A/N: Yay it's done! Enjoy some fluffy morning after romance!

Disclaimer: Still not mine…

You're awake before your eyes open, realizing you're in unfamiliar surroundings. Using your other senses, you attempt to figure out where you are, and how you got there.

Without even moving, you can tell you're sore. But this soreness is different than what you usually feel the morning you awake after a battle. There is no specific area of your body that is in pain, so clearly you have not been hit by a sword or arrow during any sort of fight. You feel as if you exercised every muscle in your body to the extreme, including those you did not realize you had. Through all of your physical unease, however, you feel… content.

You next realize you're not wearing anything, not even your small clothes. That's not entirely odd. It has been quite some time since bandits and outlaws have surprised your party during the night. Summer is approaching, leaving the days hot and the nights unpleasant in your gear. For a few nights you slept in the nude, yet you're normally awoken every morning by a party member, and after giving Zevran more of a view of you than he ever deserved, you've at least kept your small clothes on. While your clothing situation may not be as strange, you can't remember where you've left your swords last night.

Finally, the position that you're sleeping in is not usual in the slightest. You've always slept on your back, whether it's been on a bed of hay or on the ground. But now you find yourself on your side. Your right arm is numb from sleeping on it, though your hand is rested on your own waist. Something else is resting on you close to your hand, but you believe it's just your faithful dog who has rolled over in the night and is now leaning on you. Your left arm is reached over a very strange feeling pillow, while your hand is holding something between your fingers.

Your head is not on a feathered pillow like it should have been, either. Whatever it is your head is resting on, it's a bit firmer than your pillow. Your cheek has a thin layer of sweat on it. The odor that fills your nose is odd… a mix of sweat and Alistair...

Alistair…

Memories from last night flood your mind, and you're now very able to tell why you are naked, and what exactly this pillow is. Without moving, you open your eyes. Neither of you bothered to throw a blanket over your bodies during the night, so the first thing you see when your eyes open is Alistair. All of him.

You feel your face ignite as you pull your view away. Careful not to move your head too much, you look around. You're lying with your head on his shoulder, his face turned to you so that his lips might be pressed against the top of your head. His left arm is under you with his hand resting on your hip. You follow the length of your own left arm across his chest and see that his fingers are entwined with yours.

Oh Maker…, you think. You've never woken up next to a man before. And Alistair has always been particular that one of you sleeps inside a tent, separated by the privacy the flaps allow. But right now, there is absolutely nothing private between the two of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering where you only a day ago. At this time yesterday, you were laying in your own tent, under your own blanket, with no one but your dog next to you. You preparing to get up soon, perhaps to find more firewood or hunt a bird or rabbit for breakfast. Your dog was stretched out beside you, begging for a belly rub and five more minutes of sleep. The camp would soon start to become alive, and you would share your tea and breakfast with Alistair, who was nothing more than a friend. But now…

Now you're lying next to him, practically on top of him, and neither of you are wearing any clothing at all. You realize that your relationship will be different, very different. Last night was the first time for both of you, and your friendship cannot return to where it was before last night.

You think very hard, trying to see if you feel any remorse, any regret for doing what you did last night. You decide that you don't feel any at all.

The question is, will he?

You sigh, gently sitting up, careful not to wake him. His arm now free of your weight, he groans slightly in his sleep and rolls over, his back towards you. You can't help yourself as your eyes wander to his rear, now exposed to you. Blushing furiously, you turn your head away. You wonder how you would feel if you caught him eyeing your naked body as you slept. You're unable to keep a grin off your face, no matter how hard you try.

You grab your small clothes and his shirt and shrug them on. You laughed quietly to yourself, remembering just how his shirt got torn in half in the first place. You pull his light blanket over the bottom half of his body, realizing he would feel embarrassed if you were covered up and he was still exposed.

You know you need to wake him soon. You need to talk about what happened and what it means to both of you. The two of you were closer than anyone in the group, but you thought it was because you two were the ones who started everything together. The two lone survivors of the Grey Wardens. For a long time, when it was just the two of you and Morrigan, the witch would often disappear once night came, leaving the two of you alone to talk. Morrigan would rarely speak while travelling, so the conversation would often be just between you and Alistair. Your party continued to grow, and while you tried to become acquainted with everyone in your group, you and your fellow Warden always found each other again. As Alistair had previously mentioned, you two have a lot of history together, so you always assumed your close bond was because of that.

Even as you think that, you know you're not being completely truthful with yourself. You've noticed how deep his eyes are. How relaxed his smile makes you. How the sound of his voice can sooth you. The roughness of his hands, the thickness of his hair, the contours of his shoulders and arm muscles…

Flushing again, you shake your head to clear it. All right, you've had feelings for him for some time now. But when did he ever make it seem that he had feelings for you?

Groaning to yourself, you smack yourself in the head. You're starting to sound like the boy-crazy elves you left behind.

You still have your doubts, however, when you gently shake his shoulders to wake him. But these doubts need to be said aloud, and not just thought in your head. "Alistair," you whisper quietly. He moans again and buries his head deeper in his pillow, muttering something you cannot understand. You can't help but trace your fingers down his back as you lean down closer to him. "Alistair, wake up."

You watch as his eyes flutter open and he brings a hand to wipe the sleep away from his eyes. He grumbles something incoherently again, then rolls to face you. At first, a smile begins to crawl across his face, and you feel relieved. But slowly, his eyes widen in horror and the smile fades from his lips.

"Good morning," you say, smiling sheepishly. He leans up, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch as he remembers everything from last night as well, and you're terrified of what the next thing will be out of his mouth.

"Good morning," he mutters, his eyes leaving yours, his face flushing.

Slightly anticlimactic, you think. Well, at least he didn't scream and tell you to leave his tent. Then, without thinking of what you're doing, without thinking of what he'll do, you lean forward and gently touch your lips to his.

His hand creeps around the back of your neck as his lips gently press against yours. Your fingers run through his hair then softly stroke his cheek, his stubble rough under your touch. The kiss itself is chaste, not showing any of the passion from the night before, but deep down you feel a strong feeling, as if your body innately knows what it's doing is right.

You pull away, leaving your hand on his cheek, while his hand falls to rest on top of your other hand. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, butterflies dancing around in your stomach. You've never woken up beside a man before, and while it's almost scary to feel so vulnerable, there is no other person better to feel that way than with Alistair.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath this blanket, am I?"

A giggle escapes your lips, and while the moment may have been broken, the overall feeling in the room has not. You shake your head no, and his cheeks flush as he toys with the end of the blanket. Still, he eyes you coyly as your stomach rids itself of the butterflies by beginning to do backflips. "Now, is that a good or bad thing?"

You feel your lips curling up into a smile and a deep, throaty chuckle escapes his lips. "Well, I guess that answers that question." He reaches back up to stroke your cheek, his hand pushing your hair out of your face. You scoot yourself closer and lean into him. Almost frightened, he leans in and hesitantly kisses you.

As he pulls away, a worried look masks his face. "So, last night…" he trails off, looking away from you. You don't respond, waiting for him to come out and say what he needs to. "I hadn't exactly planned that, you know. Not that it wasn't enjoyable! It really, really… really was. But… it was my first time. And yours too, I think." He looks up at you, waiting for you to confirm or deny it. You nod your head. He seems slightly relieved. "I always thought my first time would be a bit more… planned. Not planned… romantic? No… uh…" He looks away from you, seemingly ashamed. "Did we go too fast?"

He's asking you if you regret it. His voice was so small, so meek, and you know that he's put himself on the line for you. You reach over and grab his chin, gently pulling it towards you so he can see you. His eyes are afraid to meet yours, but they do all the same.

"Alistair, if you're asking me if I came in last night with the intention of sleeping with you, the answer is no, I did not. But am I angry or upset or ashamed? Not in the slightest. Alistair, last night I told you a story that I've never spoken aloud to anyone. I never thought I would have to. I never thought I would want to. But I found myself… needing to tell you." You inhale deeply as he begins to smile a small, barely noticeable smile. But you notice it. "I trust anyone out there," you gesture to the camp. "With my life. They're risking their own lives to help us defeat the darkspawn. But you…." You shake your head, at a loss for words. "I've never trusted anyone nearly as much as I trust you. I… I've never felt this way about someone before."

The confession hangs in the air, and you squeeze your eyes shut, turning your head away. Admitting it out loud is much more difficult than you expected. He leans his head forward so his forehead rests on your shoulder.

"I, as well," he mutters.

You smile, relieved, though logically you should have known that. No matter how caught up in the heat of passion, Alistair is not the type of person to sleep with any woman who crawls into his tent. For him to do so with you proves that there are some deeper feelings.

Chuckling, you lift his chin so that your eyes are even, and his eyes drop to look at your lips. "Could we have waited until we at least admitted our feelings to each other? Possibly. But last night felt right. You can't deny that."

He shakes his head, then closes the gap between you. You're not sure how long you stay like that, lips slowly moving together, but you don't care. Everything about being with Alistair feels right: you both know it.

A/N: Not entirely how I meant to end it that way, but that's how Alistair and Arya decided it should be. PS: If anyone's interested, I maaaaaay have written a missing chapter of the events from the night before. It also maaaaaay be a little (or a lot) racy. Once I'm finished editing it, I'll post it. Definitely needs a different rating though…