fadewalk | RP: Logan Hawke, Anders (serhealsalot)

The hallways were quiet. The kitchens were quiet. Everything had just been strangely quiet for a while now. Alistair was in socked feet, loose linen pants and a soft unlaced shirt, standing over a small pot of porridge he was cooking... for himself? It was more porridge than even he could eat comfortably, especially considering it was porridge he was making, which no one could eat comfortably.

He rubbed at his forhead. Why did he feel like he was missing something? Well a bigger more something than usual anyway.

He'd have to ask... someone. When he saw... them? Zevran, his brain whispered. How many days has he been gone? He frowned, and looked out the small window slits that ventilated the room, and the question was gone already as he wondered for the thousandth time whether it was morning or night.

It was whatever time it was, but he'd woken up alone in his bed, with a headache from too much wine and his shoes on, feeling despondent. Lonely. Which was fairly usual, all things considered. He stirred again, frowning into the whitish-brownish-greyish paste. "Probably more water," he muttered.

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"Yes, well, Elissa Cousland always managed to take what you thought was a straight forward, moral choice and make it... insane. Pragmatic in a way that left you wondering who was benefiting from all these hard choices." Alistair shook his head, scraping his spoon around the edge of his bowl, making it perfectly clean.

"And me, the idiot, falling in love with her, trusting that she really did know best. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't just Loghain. It was lots of little things. And a few big ones." Killing Connor had been one of the biggest now that Alistair thought back, but also one she'd succeeded in completely distracting him from.

"I wandered, and Zevran found me. Here. Only for him he'd found me in Kirkwall, and we'd been..." He flushed and waved his spoon indistinctly. "In Antiva for a while. Assassinating and the like." He flushed harder.

Logan pushed what was left of his meal, about a spoonful and a half, into a small lump in the very center of his bowl. It looked a little bit browner than the rest, and he gave the offending remainder a small frown, getting a tiny crease between his brows, before he sighed and scooped it all up at once and stuck it in his mouth rather quickly.

He hummed around the overlarge bite as he listened, swallowing thickly several times to get it all down. "I never thought what an evil Hero of Ferelden would look like," he mused, when his mouth was empty again. He grinned a little at the words 'the like,' blue eyes sparkling with amusement - it was easy enough to imagine what Alistair meant by that, between the blushing and the fact that it was Zevran he was with. It was kind of cute that Alistair was still as blushy as Logan had imagined he would be, despite all the differences between his history and the history of the Alistair in the game.

Anders had pushed his half-eaten bowl away. He'd probably regret it later, but it was terrible. And he wasn't used to eating a lot very often, and he'd be fine without half-burnt, half-undercooked boiled, unseasoned oat porridge.

He watched Alistair with sympathy. "Nothing quite like realizing the person you think you're in love with isn't the person you thought at all." He shook his head, trying not to think too hard about Logan's story about Rowan, or his own history.

Alistair shrugged a little at Logan's comment. "I'm still not sure she was evil. She stopped rallied Ferelden, killed the arch-demon, stopped the civil war. But she was hard, and she was cruel, and you're right, she wasn't the person I loved."

Alistair pulled the pot back toward him, took another half-congealed scoop into his bowl before offering the remainder to Logan and Anders. "So, that's the tale of the bastard son of a king and how his dumbest choices led him to share his bed with an ex-Antivan Crow." He flushed again, unable to do anything else while talking about his relationship with Zevran out loud.

He hoped Zevran didn't hear about it and decide to cut out his tongue or something. He didn't think he would. He rather seemed to like his tongue. But... he also wasn't supposed to be telling people he was here. Or had been here? He took a bite of porridge with a grumpy frown.

Logan glanced sidelong at Anders at his comment, his expression difficult to read. With the two men he'd been in love with in his life - if what he and Rowan had had could even be called love, which in light of his feelings for Anders, he has beginning to doubt - he thought maybe he'd been on either end of that spectrum now. First in realizing that Rowan was much less than the man he'd thought he was, and now...with Anders...Anders was still the same person he'd fallen in love with, but meeting him made Logan realize how much more Anders was than what he'd imagined. Logan wasn't sure it was something he could quantify, exactly, but Anders' sexuality, his insecurities, his past, his passion - it was like everything about the man was magnified in person, which just made loving him that much...more.

Logan took a breath and realized he'd been staring. He gave Anders a small, warm smile to cover for it and reached out to squeeze his hand again.

When Alistair offered the pot back to the both of them, Logan grimaced and shook his head, not entirely sure he could stomach any more. He looked to Anders and found his bowl entirely pushed away and then frowned, though he didn't say anything about it, just gave Anders a look that said there would probably be a conversation about this later.

Anders could see Logan staring out of the corner of his eye, and it was making him flush as he listened sympathetically to the end of Alistair's story.

At first he'd worried that the look meant that Anders was less, of different, than what Logan thought, or wanted. But he wasn't an idiot - at least not all the time - and he could feel the warmth of Logan's gaze, even before he chanced a short glance which confirmed the impossible levels of affection he'd suspected.

He threaded his fingers with Logan's immediately when he reached to squeeze his hand and returned the smile with one of his own, a hint of amusement in it, just a touch of a smirk, to go along with his light blush.

Alistair finished his second bowl much quicker than the first, while he sat there and watched the besotted mages moon at each other. When nearly a minute had gone on with no one acknowledging him at all, he set down his spoon, an his re-emptied bowl, and pushed back from the table.

"Well. It was lovely to meet the two of you. I'm going to leave you to your soulful longing gazes." His eyes moved between them and before letting out a gusty sigh and shaking his head. "You both look like you're about three minutes from falling onto the nearest flat surface, and I'd like to preserve my memories of this table as an eating place and not a... well." He coughed looked away.

Logan startled a little when Alistair spoke again, taring his gaze away from Anders to look at him. He wet his lips. "Sorry," he said, sheepish, ducking his head slightly.

As to the flat surface comment, he wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed or appalled. There was absolutely no room in any of his plans for pinning Anders to anything in front of other people, nope, nope. No. Definitely not. Actually the thought that he might be giving off that kind of vibe was a little bit panic-inducing. He didn't ever want to let Anders go but anything more than the looking and the holding and the casual touching with other eyes on them was - that was - Logan gripped Anders' hand a little tighter and inhaled without breathing out, shaking his head emphatically.

He kind of wanted to go crawl in a hole and die, now.

Anders snorted and rolled his eyes at Alistair's comment, but he tightening of Logan's grip on his hand made him glance over at his boyfriend and frown faintly at what he saw.

He wasn't an expert on Logan's expressions yet, but he was pretty sure that one was not good. He arched his brows and then brought Logan's hand to his face and kissed his knuckles. "Logan? Love?" He shot Alistair a reproachful look, and stood, tugging at Logan's hand as well.

"Maybe we should head back to the room before we scandalize anyone else with enjoying looking at each other." He gave an irritated sniff.

"It was a joke." Alistair frowned at Logan, then Anders, and his eyebrows curved, expression turning apologetic. "I've been told I'm particularly bad at them, it's true. No one ever laughs. Well, at me, sure. Everyone laughs at me. Like you should be doing now."

He cleared his throat, and added a muttered, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean anything." He finished gathering the dishes, keeping his eyes fixed on the table.

He had spent too much time drunk and in the company of mercenaries and the associated rabble over the past year, apparently. Now he was driving grown men into painfully obvious anxiety attacks with his jokes about how soppy they were being.

Logan exhaled all in a rush when Anders pulled him to his feet, standing up a little closer to his boyfriend than he really needed to, which you would think would make things worse really because there he was being extremely visibly sappy again. But Anders had kissed his knuckles like some chivalrous gentleman for fuck's sake and Logan was pretty sure he could feel something shuddering loose inside of him. He wasn't used to people comforting him when he got like this, or sheltering him or defending him or whatever it was that Anders was doing exactly, and it was kind of amazing and made him want to just bury his face in Anders' chest and hold onto him until it passed.

He rubbed his mouth with his less than steady free hand and willed the knowledge that he was being ridiculous to make his sudden panic pass. (Not that that ever worked). "Sorry. I, um. It's fine, I just..." He waved his hand vaguely. "It was nice to meet you, anyways, Alistair," he managed.

Anders fully believed that Alistair hadn't intended to shame Logan maliciously, and he had to admit, they probably weren't fit for mixed company yet with the longing glances and sudden need to touch each other to remind themselves this was real. Or real enough to touch.

But he was still fuming as Alistair stumbled his way through an apology and Logan clearly wasn't comfortable as he accepted it. Anders stepped closer as well, angling himself half between Logan and Alistair. He was feeling better after the food, but still a little woolly headed, but his magic was starting to trickle back.

Not enough for much more than a wisp or a spark, but it was a startling relief to have the empty well inside him refilling naturally.

"It was interesting, at least." He smiled a little sharply. "What with the crash course in templar attacks and the terrible porridge." He considered for a moment, watching the way Alistair's face colored and how hang-dog he looked. He shot a glance at Logan and then sighed. "If you wanted to meet up again for food that wasn't... that. And maybe you could teach us a little more about how templars work? We should learn how to defend ourselves and we've just been fumbling. You seem like the best candidate we've met for that job so far."

It was physically painful to watch them angle toward each other. Alistair was about to shuffle off when Anders suggested they meet again for food and... training? Sparring? He frowned a little, mostly just a slight puzzle furrow of his brows, and glanced at Logan.

"Is that something you'd want to do? There's Cullen, there's other mages, there were at least two other Alistairs with more experience than me." Having something to do other than mope and drink and sulk and worry was appealing. But he wasn't sure that he'd be able to shake the moping and the worrying either way.

Logan gave a ghost of a smile when Anders stepped partially between him and Alistair. He took a few deep breaths quietly while the two of them spoke.

"Yeah, that would - that would be good, I think." He nodded a few times. They really weren't prepared to defend themselves very well here, not as mages anyways, and there were from the sound of it worse templars about than not-templar Alistair. And between Anders' attempt to be nice and the slightly hopeful look on Alistair's face at the idea, Logan didn't have it in him to refuse.

He bumped shoulders with Anders and shot him another small smile.

Anders smirked at the way Alistair perked up at the suggestion, and turned his head to watch Logan's reaction out of the corner of his eyes. He agreed. Good. Anders hated it when his compassion ran counter to his sense of righteous indignation and it got his wires crossed and he made the wrong offer to the wrong person.

But if Logan approved... He ducked his chin, shrugging slightly, and smiled back. "Good. Well, then. We'll be in touch? I assume the journals are good for that sort of thing?" He glanced over at Alistair who nodded in confirmation.

"Excellent." He looked around the great hall, and then turned his head back toward Logan. "I have no idea which of these doors is going to lead back to the guest wing," he admitted with a wry twist to his lips.

Alistair nodded in agreement to both Logan and Anders. "Yes, the journals make excellent methods of sending dirty pictures and snarky notes. And also, arranging clandestine meetings." He grinned a little. "Or not clandestine depending on what you're doing."

He moved toward the door that would lead back to the kitchens, carrying the dirty dishes and mostly empty pot. "I am sorry about the silence thing. Thank you for healing the crack in my skull. I'd probably still be lying on the floor without it." He waved a little, looking awkward and then disappeared back to where they'd met him.

Logan arched a brow at the disappearing Alistair and shook his head. Dirty pictures and snarky notes indeed. He was not the blushy virgin he'd been in game, that was for sure. "Small wonder that man is with Zevran," he muttered, glancing sidelong at Anders.

Then, remembering Anders' comment about doors, he hesitated for a moment, weighing his desire to head back to the room and bury himself in Anders' arms until he completely stopped feeling shaky and off-balance with the fact that Anders still hadn't really eaten. Or, okay, he'd eaten, but not to Logan's satisfaction.

It was a quick battle, because of course his instincts to take care of Anders were going to decide for him. "How do you feel about apples?" He lead Anders to the door that led from the great hall back to the gardens he'd walked through with Marian, instead, seeming to remember a fruit tree or two out there.

"Apples are fine?" Anders cocked his head to look at Logan expression bemused as he followed after him. When they exited into an unfamiliar portion of the courtyard, he arched his eyebrow at him. "This isn't he way to the room, is it?"

He huffed slightly, expression becoming a little concerned. "Logan, are you okay?" He pulled to a stop, hand tugging Logan back toward him. "You seemed really shaky there for a minute. We don't need to go on a quest for apples, if you need some time." His free hand rose to cup Logan's cheek, thumb brushing across the line of his cheekbone, then his eyebrow gently.

Logan shook his head. "No, it's-" and then Anders pulled him back.

At the hand on his cheek, Logan inhaled shakily. God, Anders was perfect. Perfect. And probably owed an explanation. "I'm okay," he said automatically, reaching up to grip Anders' wrist lightly, his thumb stroking over the soft skin there. "I'm..." he laughed, a short, awkward sound. "I just, hadn't actually held hands with anyone in front of other people until yesterday, you know? So-- sex on a table, I mean I know it's just innuendo, I know he was joking, I just...it's a bit much." He grimaced. "I'm sorry."

It took some effort not to let go of Anders with either hand and step back and fold his arms or rub his face or do any number of other defensive motions Logan was used to hiding behind. "This is the point where we start over and I say, 'hi, I'm Logan Hawke, I get panic attacks over tiny inconsequential things like bad jokes sometimes, did I mention?'"

Anders' smile was sweet and worried and loving, his heart aching for Logan's discomfort. "Hi, Logan Hawke, I think you're perfect and I love you, panic attacks over bad jokes included." He leaned their foreheads together for a brief, gently bonk, and then shook his head. "And you seem to be forgetting nightmares? Somnambulent sprinting? I know I forgot to mention that before I was doing both. " His lips quirked, somewhere between rueful and bemused.

"But if you need me to give you more space when we're in front of other people, it's okay. I would have thought about it, but with the Silence, and I just wasn't..." He wrinkled his nose and met Logan's eyes, a little worry in the set of his eyes. "I wasn't thinking."

Logan snorted, tempted to say that's different, but then the reason he wanted to say that was because it wasn't something Anders could control and while it felt like he should be able to control his anxiety, it wasn't like it was his fault either.

"I don't...think so? I mean. I was okay until I started thinking about anything more than what we were doing, so there's that." He blew out a breath. "I don't know, maybe it would be be better if you did, but I don't...really want you to. If that makes any sense at all. Maybe back home, mabye more space, but here...it doesn't scare me as much." He shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip, not entirely sure what he wanted - or perhaps needed was the real question - except that it involved Anders, and removing that worried look from his eyes.

Anders nodded, watching Logan's face carefully. He could see the uncertainty easily enough. There were other, more complicated emotions and motivations underneath and Anders wished he knew how to read them all. He pursed his lips briefly and then said, "Okay, how about this: when it's just the two of us, I'm going to hold your hand. I'm going to sit in your lap without asking, I'm going to hug you from behind and kiss the back of your neck."

He took a small step away, and let go of Logan's hand. "When it's more than just us, I'll let you decide? I'll be here, Logan. I won't be offended if you don't want to put your arm around me or reach for my hand. It's your choice." His brows quirked hopefully.

That sounded wonderful, so the fact that it made Logan feel queasy inside all over again was beyond frustrating. He scrubbed a hand over his curls in the nervous gesture he'd been suppressing as soon as Anders stepped away. Anders was being absolutely perfect about all of his absurd neuroses, and all it did was make Logan feel horribly guilty. Guilt for Anders having to put up with his shit, guilt because he knew without a doubt that Anders deserved way better, just...lots of guilt. Everywhere.

He gave a rolling, shuddery half shake of his head. "I'm. I, um. You need to stop being so perfect," he mumbled. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he added, "I keep having this feeling like at any moment you're going to realize exactly what you're getting yourself into here and then you're just going to back away very quickly, and it's dumb, because I know you, love, I know you're not like that, but I just...I love you so much it kind of scares me. And I don't want to mess it up but I also don't want to hurt you." He struggled for a moment, trying to figure out how better to explain, because that didn't seem to really even cover it, but he ended up staring at Anders' hand, the one that had just been holding his, and feeling strangely bereft and wordless, before he lifted his eyes to Anders' face.

Anders wasn't sure if he were presented with Rowan right now he wouldn't beat that asshole bloody with a shoe. Shake Leandra Hawke and tell her that her son needed her to see him, and not just rely on his strength. The depth of Logan's insecurity was breaking his heart, when he was gorgeous, smart, kind, loyal and giving. Protective.

Wonderful. More than Anders deserved, certainly. He could only try to be remotely worthy.

He had tears in his eyes when Logan looked back up at him, and he blinked hard, glancing away. He nodded a little, settling his own emotions, and smiled at Logan. He held out his hand for him to take, if he wanted. "Give me a few hours. I'm sure I'll find something to be a shit about, and you'll stop thinking I'm perfect."

His eyebrows were entreating when he continued, "I love you, Logan, and I know that isn't enough to make it all better. I'm willing to do the work with you though, if you'll let me."

"Not bloody likely," Logan muttered, taking Anders' hand again when it was offered to him, but instead of lacing their fingers together, he guided Anders' arm to wrap around his waist and then leaned in against his side greedily. Logan kissed his brow and then dropped his forehead against Anders' temple and sighed.

Yeah, so that whole 'feeling less tense immediately when Anders was touching him' thing, that hadn't been a one-off earlier. It was a little bit terrifying how he immediately felt better with Anders' arm around him - he had relied on nobody but himself and occasionally Maelstrom for so long that it felt like a kind of weakness, or at the very least gratuitous. For a moment he warred with dual instincts, the one that said he shouldn't let himself get so reliant as to need this kind of comfort from another person, and the voice in his head that answered back that maybe he deserved to not be the strong one this time.

What he said was, "That sounds good, love."