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At some point in all those hours of kissing (well, they might not have been hours, but they had certainly gone on for a while...), Logan must have dozed off, curled up with Anders in his arms. When he woke, he had no idea how much time had passed, because the light in the room was exactly the same. His mouth was dry, and Anders wasn't in his arms. He licked his lips and stretched an arm across the bed next to him and felt...nothing. The bed was empty.
Logan sat up abruptly, immediately awake. "Anders?" he said quietly, voice hoarse with sleep and strained with alarm. Nothing. He pulled a palmful of fire into his hand to light up the room further. Anders' clothes were there, right where he'd left them, even his shoes and Logan's hoodie. The door to the room hung open about a foot. He went to the door and leaned out. "Anders?" he called again, louder this time, but there was no sign of him. "Shit. Shit, shit. Oh, shit." He paced back inside the room and dressed with shaking fingers, trying to think where Anders might have gone. Could he have been pulled back without Logan? They'd arrived separately; maybe they would be taken separately. The thought shot a burst of panic through him. He hadn't even asked Anders for his number, or his address, or anything. He'd meant to. Had wanted to say 'Tell me where you live, love. If you get dropped back home as quickly as we got here, I don't want to have to wait to find you again.' But he'd lost himself in the simple wonder of kissing Anders, holding him, and had forgotten to plan ahead.
No. But the door had been open? If he'd just been taken back to their world, or...whatever, why was the door open? Logan gathered Anders' clothes in his arms automatically without paying attention to what he was doing and wandered back to the door, wondering if the tavern floor might be dusty enough to show where Anders might have gone. It wasn't. "Think. Think, Logan," he muttered, sidestepping tables to peer over the railing down into the tavern at large. Maybe Anders sleepwalked? That would make the most sense. But why hadn't it woken Logan - he was a deep sleeper from years of bunking in the same room as several other men at once, but he wasn't usually deep enough of a sleeper that a lover could completely disentangle themselves without him noticing. He paced. If Anders was sleepwalking there were all these stairs and battlements; there was no telling how he might hurt himself. Logan needed to find him. He hurried to the door they'd come in, thinking perhaps retracing their steps might be the best place to start.
Logan sat up abruptly, immediately awake. "Anders?" he said quietly, voice hoarse with sleep and strained with alarm. Nothing. He pulled a palmful of fire into his hand to light up the room further. Anders' clothes were there, right where he'd left them, even his shoes and Logan's hoodie. The door to the room hung open about a foot. He went to the door and leaned out. "Anders?" he called again, louder this time, but there was no sign of him. "Shit. Shit, shit. Oh, shit." He paced back inside the room and dressed with shaking fingers, trying to think where Anders might have gone. Could he have been pulled back without Logan? They'd arrived separately; maybe they would be taken separately. The thought shot a burst of panic through him. He hadn't even asked Anders for his number, or his address, or anything. He'd meant to. Had wanted to say 'Tell me where you live, love. If you get dropped back home as quickly as we got here, I don't want to have to wait to find you again.' But he'd lost himself in the simple wonder of kissing Anders, holding him, and had forgotten to plan ahead.
No. But the door had been open? If he'd just been taken back to their world, or...whatever, why was the door open? Logan gathered Anders' clothes in his arms automatically without paying attention to what he was doing and wandered back to the door, wondering if the tavern floor might be dusty enough to show where Anders might have gone. It wasn't. "Think. Think, Logan," he muttered, sidestepping tables to peer over the railing down into the tavern at large. Maybe Anders sleepwalked? That would make the most sense. But why hadn't it woken Logan - he was a deep sleeper from years of bunking in the same room as several other men at once, but he wasn't usually deep enough of a sleeper that a lover could completely disentangle themselves without him noticing. He paced. If Anders was sleepwalking there were all these stairs and battlements; there was no telling how he might hurt himself. Logan needed to find him. He hurried to the door they'd come in, thinking perhaps retracing their steps might be the best place to start.
