DRABBLES

[travelingtails]

From Over Here

I'll just be putting each drabble in it's own comment. :|a

Prompts:

✿Alistair and Cousland -- Can you help me out of this armor?

✿Garrus and Tali -- So what do you think of the new undead Shepard?

Alistair -- Cheese. First time.

Riley and Buffy, Collide (Prompt: The World Spins Madly On)

Tobias and Rachel, Free (Prompt: All

Comments

Cousland/Alistair: Can you help me get this armor off?

[travelingtails]

Alistair stared blankly at at the newest Warden, all mental processes having been abruptly shut down at her rather innocent question. And it was innocent, Alistair was certain. For as little as he had gotten to know the woman, he was fairly sure she wasn't cruel enough to twist like that, glance over her shoulder at him like that, tempt him like that and really mean it.

He was fairly certain.

She was posed in a slightly compromised position, sitting on the ground and twisted around to face him, one leg pulled up as she tried to work her boot off. She was surrounded by abandoned bits and pieces of armor, the shoulder paldrons fallen to the ground outside her tent, the chest piece having recently been tossed to the dirt behind her. Despite this, she hadn't revealed much, being as she wore plenty of padding underneath the heavy pieces--one had to, lest the chainmail pinch something rather delicate while fighting or walking or even just breathing. Armor was temperamental like that. Still, he liked watching her, and had convinced himself he wasn't a horrible nasty creeping peeping tom just to steal a few glances every now and then. And anyway, it was her fault for always starting the process outside her tent.

Everything had been just fine until she had bent over and started to wiggle around, apparently having some trouble with the buckles at her ankles. Her hips turned scandalous when they wiggled. He had watched her for a moment too long, completely forgetting what he had been in the middle of doing. Watched as she bent and twisted and eventually sat down on the ground to pull her knee up almost to her shoulder to get a better grip on her boot buckles.

And then, because Alistair was never allowed to too much good luck at once, she happened to glance over and meet his eyes.

And because it was Elissa, she didn't get angry and scowl at him for staring, or declare him an unfit brute of a man. No, of course not. She blinked at him, frozen in that position with her leg somewhere near her ear, and she smiled.

And asked if he would like to help.

Apparently he was taking too long to respond, because she gave him a small, amused quirk of her lips, and Maker's breath but didn't she know the power she wielded with just that little smirk? "Alistair?"

He ought to go over. He ought to act as if there was nothing wrong and he was not standing there horribly awkwardly trying to think of the proper thing to say. He ought to do anything but stare and force down dirty thoughts that would definitely get him struck down by lightening any second now.

He had no idea she was so flexible.

Instead, he blurted, "Winter. Ah-- the buckles, you know, they tend to-- sometimes they freeze. In winter. Which it is." She blinked at him a moment as he fought the urge to cover his eyes, and he stumbled, "LetmegogetWynnetohelp," and whirled to find the lady mage before Elissa could call him back and he would end up doing something very, very stupid.

He missed the slight tightening of disappointment edging in on the sides of her eyes, quickly covered by the mask she used to face down enemies and political adversaries.

He did, however, hear Zevran sigh rather loudly near the fire. "You are rather hopeless, my friend."