fadewalk | RP: Marian Hawke (hawke_groundzero

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.

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Logan rubbed Anders' back gently and breathed in his scent, relief flooding him. There wasn't a lot of skin to be seen when Anders pulled back, since Logan had put his hoodie back on. "Me?" He gave a choked-back laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm okay. Are you okay? There was some fire and ice in the gardens, and Marian said something about you having night terrors, and god, Anders, are you okay? I was really worried."

He let his gaze drift down Anders' body. He seemed okay, if a little grubby and very naked. Which, shit. His clothes. The clothes Logan had dropped on the dirty tavern floor at the first sight of him. "Uhm." He took a step back and bent to gather them up again. "Sorry, I went to look for you, and I figured you'd need these, so I took them with me, and jesus, you're probably freezing, here." He pressed them into Anders' hands, reaching up to cup his cheek again gently.

Hawke took a sip of her drink an pursed her lips at Anders mentioned the coat. "Yeah. Just... don't let him keep it, whatever you do with it, okay?" She reached out and squeezed his shoulder with her strong, nimble fingers, trying to take the sting out of the acknowledgement that the coat was... bad.

She twitched when Logan called her Marian, and she turned her head with a soft hmph. "Twenty sovereigns says he won't call me Hawke no matter what I say," she murmured. Louder she called, "Boys, come drink with us so we can marvel at how old you make us feel, alright?"

Anders sighed. "Fenris grabbed ahold of it the other day and I about had a fit seeing those black feathers in his lovely fingers. I won't - you know I won't take back what I did, but I would like - I don't know what I would like. Not to be reminded every moment I'm awake, as well, I suppose. Selfish." He shook his head.

He raised a brow and chuckled at her. "Well, if he's a Hawke, it has to be a bit weird, from his perspective, right? Don't worry sweetheart, I'll keep on with 'Hawke', just for you, all right?"

Anders shook his head, trying to deflect Logan's concern. "Fine, I'm-- Marian?" He flicked his gaze over to the bar, the dark-haired woman and the other him drinking together, sitting together like old friends, her with a hand on his shoulder and her tumbler in her hand. She had Logan's eyes. Sort of. "Oh. Weird." He turned back as Logan pressed the clothes at him, flushing darkly.

"I'm so sorry. Normally I take medication and I didn't think it would be a big deal because I was so worn out and... I should have known better and warned you." He looked down at this clothing and then shook his head. "I was really worried I'd hurt you," he whispered.

He started wriggling into his trousers at Marian's summons, shaking his head. "As long as you're okay," he reminded himself as he buttoned the waist and then shucked out of Anders' heavy, weird, jingly feathered coat.

Logan followed Anders' gaze to the pair at the bar and did a double take at the older version of Anders sitting there, smiling indulgently at them. A Hawke who wasn't exactly like him was freaky enough, but that Anders was...pretty near identical. "Yeah, fucking weird," he muttered.

He stepped between his Anders and the other two versions of themselves as Anders started to get dressed, a possessive surge of warmth in his chest. It was probably silly, wanting to shield him from their watching eyes, but he did it anyways, at least as much as he could with just his body to use as a block. It helped that he was big and Anders was so scrawny.

"It's okay, love," he said softly. "We weren't thinking that far ahead. I didn't even really mean to fall asleep. And I certainly don't usually sleep that deep that you could get up without me noticing." He let himself reach out to touch Anders' cheek again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. "I'm all right," he repeated. "I was worried about you, first that you'd gone back without me and then that you might hurt yourself, sleepwalking around with all these stairs and battlements and everything. I'm really glad you're safe."

"Oh Maker, they're precious. I think I'm going to be sick." Hawke took another long drink from her liquor as Logan moved to provide a broad, muscular screen for Anders. She wasn't ogling, she wasn't Isabela, after all, but there was curiosity in her gaze and more than a little worry. She had seen the edges of the lash stripes on his back just before Logan cut off her view, and in a world without magic, without Templars, she wondered who would do that to him.

She squeezed Anders shoulder again, trying to still the part of her brain that was immediately thinking up eight different ways to make whoever had done that suffer, breathing through the hot-tingle in her scalp.

In order to distract herself she looked down at the Anders sitting beside her and mused, "So, you seem a little more rested. I wonder why that would be."

"Mm." Anders was ogling, but not himself; he'd seen enough of the younger him's body earlier to know it pretty much looked like his own, down to the scars, although admittedly he hadn't been that thin until being several years older than this Anders was, when he was living on his own in Darktown. No, he was eying the well muscled back of this new Hawke with keen interest. "I have excellent taste," he murmured appreciatively, sipping at his drink, glad once again that Justice's distraction in this place meant he was free to imbibe as much as he wanted.

...if not entirely free of Justice's indignant muttering about how Fenris was equally well fit, if less...big. Anders wrinkled his nose and muttered, very softly, "Yes, yes, dear, I know how you feel about the elf. Maker, I know he's your favorite. Hush."

He shook himself and gave Marian an amused look over his shoulder. "There wasn't any caboodling, if that's what you're asking, you great busybody. We haven't reached that point where he's from."

Anders was bloody grateful for Logan's body interposed. He could tell they were watching the two of them, and it was an uncomfortable sensation since this Marian and the other Anders just knew more about everything than he and Logan did. He tugged the shirt on, and then the cardigan over it, grateful for the warmth, but looking a little longingly at Logan's hoodie. Oh well, the sweater would never make it across his shoulders, so it wasn't fair to wheedle the sweatshirt out of him now that his own clothes were dry.

"Safe. Well, that's true. I did get attacked by a tree, which I very valiantly defended myself with fire and trying to burn it down on top of me, but he--" he chucked his chin toward Anders at the bar, "--did something with an ice spell that stopped it. And then I tried to freeze myself to the grass, but you know how it goes. All in a days work for the world's most incompetent mage." He smirked, still feeling shaky and uncertain, especially with the dreams weighing on his mind, the eyes that were watching, the whispers that wanted.

He grimaced at the state of his feet but stuffed them into the shoes anyway, and when he straightened he picked up Anders' coat and carried it back over toward the bar.

Logan gnawed on his bottom lip, watching Anders' jerky movements, how uncomfortable he seemed, the self-deprecating jokes to cover it up. He stepped a little closer so he could say, in an undertone, "You didn't seem very incompetent last night, love." He offered a small smile, trying to cheer him, although he could feel his cheeks suffusing with warmth as soon as he spoke.

When Anders headed for the bar, he trailed after him, pondering the look Anders had given his sweater which he had obviously not meant for Logan to notice. He took Anders by the elbow to stop him before they could quite reach the other Hawke and Anders. "Hang on, darlin'. Here." He pulled the hoodie off over his head and held it out and then said, to forestall any objections, "You might have noticed I run a little hot."

This did, of course, reveal the 'I'm Hawke' t-shirt again, and Logan glanced at Marian awkwardly as he reached down to straighten his hem.

Edited Date: 2015-09-22 07:48 pm (UTC)

Hawke had flicked the back of Anders ear lightly when he sounded so appreciative of Logan's... assets, laughing even as she did it. Well, at least Justice had some sense of decency, if Anders' muttering was anything to go by.

"No caboodling at all? That's disappointing. I was hoping somebody was making use of all the downtime. Aside from these two, anyway." Her eyes were sparkling as they approached, watched younger-Anders blush a deep scarlet as he tugged Logan's weird hooded tunic thing over his head, though he looked deeply pleased despite the blushing.

She tilted her head as she studied Logan's shirt, Varric had called those... t-shirt? She didn't know what the T stood for, but she took his word for it. "Is that something you need to advertise where you come from?" She gestured toward the glasses that sat untouched for the two younger men. "Seems like an excellent way to get bricks thrown at your head, if you ask me."

"Ouch," Anders said without inflection or any real hint of pain at the flick. He turned his gaze from the two men to look at Hawke, shrugging one shoulder. "Well, there was cuddling, if it's any consolation. And then I had to go and ruin it with the nightmares. So." He looked down into his glass with a frown and took a large gulp. "What do you know, they're worse than usual these days. Surprise." He hunched in on himself, shoulders bowing, and went back to watching as Logan looked highly embarrassed and folded his bulging biceps across his broad chest, partially hiding the letters on his shirt.

What was it with Hawkes and their absurdly muscled arms, anyways? Maker, he missed Cosa. She would know just what jokes to make to put Fenris at ease, to stop Anders and all his shit from freaking Fenris out too much. He glanced idly between Marian and Logan and tried to distract himself from his wallowing by wondering which Hawke would win in an arm wrestling contest. For all Logan looked amazing, he still bet Jicosa could best him - she was the warrior of the three.

The byplay and banter between the other Anders and Marian was sort of cute... he supposed. He felt a little strange about the considering gaze that Anders was giving Logan's arms though. And Marian's comment about the shirt?

"What? No, no one is throwing bricks at Logan. Jesus." He sounded affronted at the very idea. "The shirts a joke. Varric gave everyone in the guild ones that said, 'if lost return to Hawke' and it's a great sleep-shirt, and..." He blushed a bit more brightly as he realized he'd just admitted to using Varric's gift as pajamas.

He hustled toward the offered drink and grabbed it, taking a big gulp that made him wheeze and his eyes water.

Logan tried to make it look like he wasn't hugging himself around the middle like an awkward child, and then his Anders was defending him indignantly, and he relaxed. The grateful look he shot his boyfriend lasted just a little too long, wonder and affection mixing behind his blue eyes until he finally looked away, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, it's a - it's supposed to be a joke," he said. "It's a comfortable shirt. I pretty much only wear it around the house, which is where I was before I got...pulled here." He went and stood beside Anders, wedging a hip against the bar and picking up the last drink. He wrapped his free arm around Anders' waist, and then moved it up to rub Anders' back when he started wheezing.

Hawke was honestly two sweet smiles and a hand on the back of one of their necks before she was going to start squealing or awwing or gagging at how cute they were. It made her a little sad too. She'd never had trouble with casual, affectionate touching with her friends, but Justice had made it clear her squeezing Anders freaked the spirit out, and things were weird with Varric.

She pulled her knees up to ward her chest and hugged them where she sat on the bar, smirking as she listened to the explanation about the shirt, her eyes slowly lighting up. "We are absolutely getting a set of those." She snickered. "I will wrestle Aveline myself to get her in it!"

Anders watched the two of them making bedroom eyes at each other with barely disguised yearning. Maker, when had it been like that with he and Hawke, or he and Fenris? Had it ever been so easy, casual touches and obvious adoration, all that affection just spilling out thoughtlessly? He didn't think it had. He and Fenris had been a secret for so long, and even when it was all three of them, he'd still wondered if both of them didn't just prefer each other and...tolerate...his being in the equation. No...he hadn't been convinced that they both loved him, him, too, until after the Chantry, and there hadn't been time, after, to learn this kind of freely given affection.

He resolved, then and there, that if he got back - when he got back - he was going to do his best to change that.

With an exaggerated groan, he teased, "Give an old man a break, you two. You're making me miss my lovers. All that youthful enthusiasm." He shivered.

He reached back and elbowed Marian where he could, which ended up being her thigh instead of her side. "I'd like to see that. I'm not sure who would win that fight." He shrugged, delicately, sipped his drink. "I'd wear it. My Hawke would be delighted." He pursed his lips. "Fenris probably too, after he got over the initial glowering."

Anders gave a little start at the snarking from down the bar, the commentary about the shirts, asides about youthful enthusiasm, and at first he felt a deep swell of embarrassment. Then he caught a glimpse of Logan's face, and remembered how unsure he was about being open about his sexuality, and how much it might be costing him to be clearly affectionate to Anders in front of those two.

Instead of stepping away he burst into laughter, shaking his head, and made a rude gesture. "Oh, piss right off, both of you." His free hand circled around Logan's waist and he leaned into his chest. If he'd been sitting the bigger man would've wound up with a lapful. As it was, Anders was doing an admirable job fitting under his chin.

Logan gave the older Anders a dubious look at the mention of lovers, plural, still a little put off by the very idea. He tugged Anders closer to his chest with a 'hmph.'

He was lifting his drink to his mouth when his Anders told them both off and curled into him, and Logan choked a little around his swallow. He set the cup aside quickly, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and chuckled.
Then he wrapped his arm around Anders in return and hooked his thumb in one of Anders' front pockets.

"You're adorable," he whispered, right at Anders' ear where the others couldn't hear him, his breath warm on Anders' neck.

Hawke broke into laughter as the two young lovers ignored Anders' entreaties for mercy and snuggled harder together. She laughed harder at the rude gesture shot their way, and leaned onto Anders shoulder as she wheezed.

"Well, I guess that's your answer, no break for you." She shook her head, swinging her legs down and hopping onto her feet. "So, I know you're both really invested in caboodling or whatever, but do you have any questions you should be asking? Do you know where to find food? Clean water? A better bed than the tavern flops upstairs?"

She circled in front of them, eyeballing the younger Anders up and down, then looking up at Logan, eyes calculating what they needed, whether they were safe, even as she smiled cheekily.

Anders gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, but he grinned at the pair of them, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"There's the matter of demons as well," he said, nodding, when Hawke stood up and started circling. "You haven't got a Justice to keep you from being possessed while you sleep, so it's back to square one, for you." He looked at his younger self. "And it sounds like the same for you - Logan? Hawke? Maker, I don't know what to call you." He folded his arms and reached up to tap his lip with one hand, complaining, "This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

Logan's whisper against Anders' ear had made him shiver with pleasure, and murmur back, "Too much?" with just a tiny crease of worry between his brows. He didn't think so, but he didn't want to overwhelm him with his desire to not be more than a handspan away from him.

He still had no intention of letting him go, but then Marian was talking about necessities and the other Anders mentioned demons, and if anything was going to interrupt his attentive snuggling against Logan it would be concerns about his safety. Because if there was something his sleepwalking episode had showed him, it was that he wasn't safe.

He shifted and turned, leaning against the bar so that he could look at Marian, frowning a little at her measuring, assessing gaze. She was a little uncanny, and the exact electric blue of Logan's eyes in her face made him shift awkwardly. Those eyes were unrelentingly compelling. "Yes, I definitely need to learn how to avoid demonic possession, thanks."

Logan shook his head for answer to Anders' question, his chin and lips brushing against Anders' hair, the arm wrapped around him squeezing reassuringly. He focused on Marian again, and hummed, thinking over what they might need now that it seemed they might be stuck here for a while.

"I think the answer to all of those questions is no. Well, I thought I saw a well in that garden we went through, so that's water, I suppose. But food, that we'll need. A change of clothes would be helpful." He glanced down at what he was wearing, wondering how many hours it had been on his body now. He was going to start to smell, if he didn't already, and Anders' clothes had been dunked in grimy pondwater and firedried and generally could use a cleaning. "And...a bigger bed might be nice." He smiled awkwardly, shooting a look at Anders.

"Also demons. Little bit of coaching on how to deal with this." He held up a hand and let lightning arc between his fingers. "That would be fantastic."

Hawke sniffed at Anders question about names. She pointed at the pair and said tartly, "He can be Logan. I'm Hawke. Seniority, since I've got at least a decade on him." She gave his shirt an appraising look, plainly thinking about stealing it right off his back.

Her eyes tracked on the changes to Anders posture as he shifted and agreed that they needed help. She hadn't decided yet which of the pair was more fragile, but plainly their weak spots were each other and it was obvious for anyone to see. Well, she wasn't going to use it against them, but somebody could.

Logan had common sense at least, agreeing about physical necessities as well as the magey stuff. She nodded in approval. "Where's your books?" she asked lightly, pulling her own journal out and beginning to flip through it, looking for the maps that someone had scribbled down.

Anders hummed and smirked over his drink at Marian. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

He watched with interest as Logan gave his Anders a baffled look at the mention of books, and then went back to observing Marian thoughtfully. She was a quick one, always watching, watching. It was interesting. She could snark back at him with the same voice and the same jokes as his Jicosa, but at the end of the day there were the extra years she had on him and her feelings for Varric and all that sharp-eyed attention, like she was waiting for everything to go to shit on her. Which...considering...it wasn't something he could blame her for, but it did make him rather sad.

He really needed to give Varric a few pointed words on the matter.

Anders wasn't sure whether or not he wanted everyone calling Logan 'Logan' which was a weird impulse to have. It had felt special, the world insisting he was Hawke, and Anders allowed to see Logan instead. He frowned and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt. "There was one in here earlier... Did it get left upstairs? I thought it was yours," he said to Logan with arched eyebrows.

If there were supposed to be journals for everyone then Anders' was probably at the bottom of the pond he'd landed in. He huffed a short sigh. "I'm not swimming for it, it had better not be that important," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

"I didn't see a book," Logan said, frowning. "But I was a little distracted when I picked everything up earlier. Maybe it's still up there." He looked to Marian. "Is it important? I can go look for it."

He reached out and brushed his fingers against Anders' in a silent question at the slight edge to his frown.