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Report for You

Summary:

In which Veil reports do double as love letters, in a way.

Notes:

A meme request from Tumblr for a drabble fic based on a “then there’s tongue” kiss. Though it wound up a bit longer than a drabble…

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

At a glance, it was but a simple paper. A slip of parchment, the edges worn and dirt smudged in one corner, with several tight, neat lines of black ink scoring across. Numbers, times, geographic coordinates, and some further details, of minor difficulties and noted damages. In hand it was dry and firm, slightly creased where the leather cord had held it closed, and still smelled of the chill mountain air.

An ordinary paper, by all outward accounts.

The way it lit up Solas’ eyes, however, was anything but.

“Is it…?” he asked.

Evelyn stifled a smile at the waver in his voice and slipped the paper into his already-outstretched hand. “It is,” she said. “The report on the elven artifacts’ measurements of the Veil, just arrived from our Hinterlands agents.”

Which Leliana had passed to her with a knowing smile, but Evelyn didn’t mention that part.

Thankfully for her, Solas was already too enraptured in the contents of the report to wonder. With a small but sincere thank-you, he sat down at his desk, crossing one ankle over the other, to peruse the paper more thoroughly, humming on occasion as he apparently found some intriguing detail.

Evelyn wound her way beside him against the desk, flipping through several of the tomes stacked there with mild interest. More so she watched him out of the corner of her eye, as little fascinated her more these days than seeing him so wholly absorbed. His slate-blue eyes narrowed, his brow drawn, his lips ever so slightly pursed in that delectable way that tempted her to kiss them. She had, once or twice or more, when he’d taken too long in his studies and she was in the mind for much more, but typically she restrained herself.

Well, mostly. She settled for a light peck to his temple.

When he didn’t react, she did so again. She wasn’t terribly good at restraint.

He huffed, a smile tugging at his lips, and set down the paper before looking to her. “You are incorrigible, vhenan,” he said, laughter in his voice.

She grinned. “Anything interesting in the report?” she asked.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted,” he began, but then drew her down to his lap with a sudden pull, belying any real annoyance. She laughed aloud as she settled across his thighs and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to the dip where his ear met his head, and his fingers tightened against her waist. “Incorrigible,” he murmured again, affectionately, then turned to her, intent clear in his gaze.

But she leaned away, an eyebrow raised. “The report?”

He huffed once more, but reclined against his seat with a light shake of his head. “As I was saying,” he continued at last, “there has been little change since the last survey, save the typical fluctuations. That is, from what I can recall offhand. I will need to compare the report side-by-side to past ones to be sure. However—” He drew a fingertip along one line on the paper, and Evelyn eyed it. “—this reading has been—”

“Oddly consistent?” she interjected, then covered her mouth when she realized she had.

But Solas only said, “Indeed. Pulses still averaging twenty minutes apart, with a standard deviation of less than one and a half minutes. Curious.” Then his eyes crinkled in amusement, a grin growing on his face, and he added, “Though I am surprised you remember after so long since the last report, vhenan.”

A light sentence, from him. He could’ve easily teased her with worse.

“I enjoy hearing the results of your studies, Solas,” she said, trying to pass off an easy smile.

“Then I am glad to know my work is appreciated.”

His expression hadn’t changed, his words benign and his tone but a pleased warmth, but his blue-gray eyes twinkled tellingly. More subtle teasing, she knew, and hardly even an attempt to veil it, but still passingly light. He was in too good of a mood to do more, his smile soft and his heel tapping out a muted rhythm on the rug.

He did that more these days, she noticed.

Evelyn pressed another kiss to his temple, and he dragged her closer.

“Vhenan…”

“And your theory?” she prompted brightly.

He groaned, but with a note of amusement in his throat, and again relented. “Ma nuvenin.”

She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but at some point they found themselves lounging side-by-side on the sofa against the wall, lamplight golden and soft from above and tomes piled high on either side of them. The hour had grown and the air chilled with the coming night, but they hardly noted it, entranced as they were in their studies. They spoke in whispers, questioning, postulating, and explaining in turns, as they delved into the intricacies of Veil warps, the environmental interplay of the artifacts’ locations – both physical and the Fade – and several other topics that would’ve had Sera readying pies to throw at them had she overheard.

Thankfully, she wasn’t there to do any such thing. Instead it was peaceful and quiet, save for their own soft-spoken exchanges, the shuffling of paper in the library from its few occupants at the late hour, and the distant creak of cages in the rookery high above. That silence seemed to echo, making each small sound smaller and farther away, enclosing them in a world of their own. As if there were no others but them, no concerns but their discussion and shared warmth.

Evelyn leaned further into that warmth and shut her eyes, releasing a sigh as an arm wound around her waist and gently tugged her closer.

“Tired, vhenan?” Solas whispered.

“Mm.” She shifted her head deeper into the cradle of his shoulder, the fine wool of his tunic soft against her cheek. “Just… happy to be here. To be with you, Solas.”

He hummed in consideration, and then his lips pressed against the crown of her head, then to the corner of her ear, a reflection of her own earlier affections. Though not as easy a task for him, with her thick hair impeding the way. She opened her eyes and straightened, laughing at the sight of him plucking several strands from his mouth.

“There’re much better ways to kiss me, you know,” she said.

“Oh?” he replied, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I was not aware of this new study. Pray tell, what are these ways, Inquisitor?”

“I would propose a demonstration, actually.”

“Intriguing. Please proceed.”

With that she twisted towards him, cupped his face between her hands, and did so.

At first nothing more than a light caress, lips glancingly warm and welcoming, a touch barely more than a tease. Then, a heartbeat later, she pressed harder, soft lips giving way against one another. She moved gently against him, leisurely, then drew away for a breath, then returned, laying a kiss to his cheek, along his jawline, to the corner of his mouth, then finally another one directly upon his lips, firmer and deeper than the last, and his fingers carded through her hair to hold her closer.

And she pulled away, releasing his bottom lip with a sucking pop, and smiled widely at the flush already gathering across his cheeks.

“Well?” she said. “Wouldn’t you say that’s better?”

“Hm.” He leaned back, appearing to think it over for several overly-long moments, his fingers curling through her hair. Finally, he said, “I must agree. Though with some suggestions, if I may?”

“Oh? What?”

A grin caught in his mouth. Then his hands tangled against her and tightened, and she was dragged to it in the next breath.

He started slow, as she had, mimicking her light touch. But her teasing had evidently undone more than he could endure, and it wasn’t long before he was pulling her closer, his lips setting to hers with a fervor that had her clutching at the collar of his tunic. His hands stroked through her hair, over her shoulders, and down to her back, his arms encircling her waist and holding her tight to him, as though even a breath apart were too great a distance to bear. He enveloped her, warm and comforting, smelling of old parchment, pine, and him, the wolf jawbone of his pendant pressed sharp between them.

Just as she thought it might go on forever, he parted. Then his lips were at her cheek, her jaw, trailing up to the lobe of her ear for a second, and then he was at her own lips once more. She ran a hand across his neck and over the back of his head, drawing him harder against her with the slightest scratch of her nails.

The moan he released was a delight to her ears.

“Vhenan,” he gasped, “I…”

Evelyn pulled him back to her before he could finish, and another noise of pleasure escaped him. His hand wound up and caught in her hair once more, forcing her firmer against him, till their lips stung and their teeth clicked against one another, uncaring of the world around them.

He bore down upon her, and she happily welcomed him, bracing an elbow against the books stacked high behind her. Several of the tomes tumbled over, thudding against the floor, but she barely noticed. He was pressing against her, clutching her so close she swore she could feel near every inch of him, and then his lips parted further upon hers. A hot breath exchanged, and then his tongue swept over her lips and inside.

The feel of it pulled a soft moan from her throat, and she desperately gripped again at his collar with her other hand, jostling a couple more books loose to the floor.

But she didn’t care. Heat was rushing through her, heady and full of too much.

Flames, she wanted—

“Not on the books, you fools!”

Something thumped against Solas’ back, and he straightened with a low hiss.

“That was completely unnecessary,” he grunted, casting a short glare up at the elven archivist still scowling down from the balustrade. He rooted behind a cushion for the thrown object, then eyed the seal stamp he recovered. Again he shot a hard look to the archivist. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t throw the wax at us as well?”

The archivist only huffed. “It would hardly be worse than what you’ve already done to the books.”

“We did not—” Solas stopped himself with a sharp sigh.

A small laugh escaped Evelyn at the scene, even with the mood somewhat dashed, and she pressed a brief kiss to Solas’ cheek as she plucked the stamp from his hand. “Come on, Solas,” she said, dropping the seal on top of what remained of the stack of tomes beside her. “Let’s continue this ‘study’ elsewhere.”

If a disgruntled groan followed them out, well, they were much too caught up in their own private research to bother.

Notes:

Elven translations:

Ma nuvenin – As you wish

Vhenan – Heart