The Kirkmall

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to make you one?  I promise it’ll be tasteful.”  You cajole, grabbing your bag out of the passenger side of your car, looping it over your wrist.

“While I trust your aesthetic sense, I simply hadn’t planned on wearing a mask.”  Solas replies, sounding somewhat distractedly distant, “You aren’t expecting color coordination, are you?”

“I don’t know what I’m wearing yet.”  You say, wincing slightly.

It’s been sort of a disaster.  Trying to make your budget work, trying to figure out a way not to stand out like a poor sore thumb at the ridiculous rich people party without blowing money you don’t have.  

Managing your bag, phone, and keys, you fumble your way out of the car, closing it behind you with your hip.  The morning sunshine is bright enough that it’s glaring off the snow, almost blinding you as you head up to the sidewalk, and then down towards the Hawkes’ house.

“When do you work today?”  He asks, still sounding completely distracted.

“Normally noon, but two today again, Sera agreed to cover a couple hours for me so I don’t have to be rude and duck out too early.”

“That is kind of her.  Are you there, then?  Would you tell Malcolm…”

“You say hi.  I got it.”  You reply, with a grin, “Stop reading while you’re talking to me on the phone.  You are so rude.”

“It is called multitasking.”  Solas corrects you, and then chuckles when you laugh, “Work, not pleasure, I promise you.  I will let you go, then.”

I’ll pop by after work.  

“I am by myself after six, so the company will be welcome.  As will the slight reprieve from speaking to idiots.”

“The phrase is ‘the customer is always right’, Solas, not ‘the customer is always an idiot’.”  You tell him, turning up the walk.

“Only one of those statements is true.”  He replies dourly, voice lightening when you laugh, “I will see you then.”

“See you later.”  You say, and then tuck your phone into your pocket after hanging up.

This is a little intimidating, you have to admit.  Not that you’re nervous around Hawke, or the twins, but meeting their mom and dad is a bit…

Steeling yourself, you knock on the door once.  That’s all you have time for, because it’s immediately flung open wide by someone who looks rather disappointed to see you.

Well, that’s not very nice.

“Hi, Carver.  What did I do to deserve that frown?”  You ask, trying not to let it bother you.

“He was expecting someone else.”  You hear Bethany call from behind them, just a little teasingly, “Weren’t you?”

“Not you, too…”  Carver gripes at her, and then sighs and forces a smile for you, “Thank you so much for joining us.”  He says, mockingly over-polite.

“How many people are coming?  I thought it was a family party…”  You say, letting Bethany tug you in past Carver, “Your greeting needs work, you know.”

“It is family.  Just…you know.  Family and then extra family.  Hawke tends to do that.  Mother was in a bit of a fit about it.”  Bethany tells you, linking her arm in yours, “But she’s gotten used to it.”

Can you introduce me to your mom and dad?  I should thank them for having me over.

“Of course!”  Bethany says cheerfully, dragging you on out of the entry, once you manage to kick off your shoes.

“How many people are you expecting?”  You ask curiously, already able to hear Hawke off somewhere in the house, voice loud enough to pick out, even if incomprehensible.

“Oh, I don’t know.  Six besides us?  Not that many.” 

“Well, I suppose that isn’t so bad…”  You muse, following her into what you remember is the kitchen.

It hits you the instant you wander in, the smell of sugar and things baking.  There’s a thin elven woman with blonde hair in front of the stove, next to a woman with short gray hair and a thoughtful expression.  You’ve seen the family pictures, and you’re certain that her and the man sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and an amused expression would be the Hawkes.

“…need to find a way to set aside three dozen cookies or so, or they will disappear, and I have that gathering tomorrow.”  Leandra is saying, looking a bit flustered, “And the cake.  I did mention the cake, didn’t I?”

“Yes, dear, you mentioned the cake.”  Malcolm calls over, barely hiding a chuckle, “Leave Orana be, she knows what she’s doing,  Have a cup of coffee.”

“Please don’t worry, Mrs. Hawke.”  The blonde woman says, in a quiet, high voice.

“Mother, it’s a party!”  Bethany says, laughter in her voice, and suddenly all eyes are on you.  

“Yes, dear, and they require work to run smoothly.”  Leandra says, before her attention turns back to you.

Introduce yourself politely.

You handshake all around, compliment their home, thank them for having you.  You know, all the things you need to do to ensure Leandra relaxes a little.  Having met Hawke’s friends, well, you understand a little bit.  Not in a bad way, but certainly in a chaotic way.

Despite Leandra seeming to be a bit flustered, you still end up with a cup of coffee in less than a minute flat.

“Solas wanted me to pass along a hello to you.”  You add to Malcolm, accepting a cookie as well as Leandra passes it to you, before disappearing into the dining room.

Ooh, it has frosting and those little silver ball sprinkles.  Nice.

“Well, there’s a surprise!”  Malcolm says, seeming pleased, “How’s the old man doing?  We haven’t spoken in months, I should go by and see if he has any interesting books.”

“Not pleased with the holiday crowds, I think, but he’s doing well.”  You reply, smiling faintly.

“Good to hear!  It’s funny how people can drop off the map over the years.”  Malcolm says, and then glances over to Bethany, “Poppy, did you extend any invitations for next week?”

“No, I hadn’t yet.”  Bethany says, glancing over to you, “I didn’t know if you had plans, sorry.  Sera said you might be going out of town?  I thought you might be going to visit your family.”

Yes, going to be out of town.  Sorry!

“It’s nice that you get a chance to.”  Bethany says cheerfully, “I can’t even tell you what a mess our schedule is around the holidays.”

“Why people think Freddy Fennic’s is a good holiday destination, I don’t know.”  You say, and then add teasingly, “Do they make you decorate your horns?”

“No.  Do you think I should?”  Bethany asks, grabbing a cookie for herself and then nudging you out of the kitchen.  “I think they have little battery pack powered lights you can buy. ”

You both briefly say goodbye to her father, who goes back to his coffee and book, and then you trail after her, back down the hall.

“Maybe?  But do you want to be adding more weight to that thing?”  You ask her, taking a sip of your coffee.

It’s really good coffee, actually.  Far better than the stuff you make at home.

“No.  Not at all.”  Bethany declares with a small wrinkle of her nose, “That suit is awful, actually.  They all are.  Heavy, and…uncleanable.  We have a spray, but…”

“Ew.”  You finish for her.

“Yes.  To put it lightly.”  Bethany agrees, heading into the living room.

Despite hearing them earlier, you don’t see Hawke at first.  Actually, there’s no one in here, just plastic bins stacked up, each one labeled neatly with whatever mask decoration things they contain.  As your eyes scan the room, you realize there’s a couple people outside, seen past the railing of the deck in the back yard.  

“They’re going to be freezing.”  Bethany declares, as someone gets hit on the back of the head with a snowball.  “Do you mind helping me go through these a little?  They haven’t been touched since last year.”

“Sure, of course.”  You say.

You know, I’ve been trying to shop for a holiday outfit, and I have had no luck.

You take a box labeled ‘fabric’ as Bethany passes it to you, and obediently open it after setting your things aside on a coffee table, using your bag as a napkin for the cookie.  The contents are not a surprise, but the sheer variety of what it contains is.

“We should pick out the things people will want to use.”  Bethany instructs, pulling down a box for herself, “What sort of holiday outfit?  There’s some very cute sweaters on sale.”

“I need a dress, actually.  A nice one, but not one where…”  You pause, trying to figure out a good way to say it, “Where I wouldn’t stand out?  Maybe…or look out of place.  No matter where I ended up going.”

“You mean something classic?”  Bethany asks, much to your relief.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.  Classic is good.  But definitely a dress.”  You say, decisively, “It has to be formal.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?  Things are always made so cheaply these days, it feels like you have to pay too much if you want something that will last.”  Bethany says, “That’s why I always go raid mother’s closet.”

“She lets you?”  You ask, picking out a yard or so of spangly silver fabric.

“Mother’s family used to be a bit more…money, I suppose.  She ran away with father, actually, eloped.”  Bethany says, giving a small sigh, “When they passed, it turned out they left everything to her…it was a bit sad, and a bit of a story in and of itself.  My grandmother had kept all of mother’s old things.  I don’t think she wants to wear them herself, memories and all, but she doesn’t want to get rid of them, either.  It’s a shame, they’re really quite lovely.  Except for the ones with the…big sleeves, you know.”

“It’s nice that she doesn’t mind you using them.”  You say, digging into the bin a bit deeper.

“It makes her happy, even if it’s a little bit…melancholy, I think.”  Bethany says thoughtfully, and then shakes her head, “What sort of party are you going to?  Is it back in your hometown?”

Just…a party.  There’s going to be some richer people there.  I just don’t want to look like I don’t belong.

“I suppose I can see how that would be a problem…”  Bethany says, uncertainly, “There’s always dress rental?  There are places online where you can rent designer gowns.  I would be terrified of ruining something, of course.”

“That does sound a bit nerve wracking.”  You agree, “But I guess it’s an option.  How much do those cost, I wonder?”

“You know, I don’t know.”  Bethany says, digging into her lap full of spangles, eventually coming up with her phone.

You unload some more of the fabric as she taps away at her phone,  setting aside some rather violently vibrant pieces that look like they could be thirty years old or more.  This bin of fabric is kind of fun to explore.

“Three hundred plus?”  Bethany finally says.

“I…yikes.  Really?”  You ask, and then sigh, heavily, “Maybe I should just find the plainest black dress possible and hope it works.”

“Probably a bit short notice to find a sample sale…I could ask mother if you could borrow something of hers, if you like.”  Bethany invites, “It’s vintage, at least.  Some of it’s designer, though most of it’s bespoke.”

Would your mom really be okay with that?  I did only just meet her.

“Probably?”  Bethany says, “Honestly, I’ve never asked before.  She’s happy when I borrow them.”

“I could offer to get it cleaned and everything, but I guess I don’t even know if you can do that with vintage dresses.”  You say, and then give a laugh, “That is, if anything will even fit me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.  They’re not much use if they’re just sitting in a closet, are they?”  Bethany says, cheerfully, “And not all of it is hers, some of it’s her mothers, and some even older…they never threw anything away, she said.  Luckily we got everything back before uncle sold…”

Abruptly Bethany trails off, glancing up from her phone, cheeks flushing a little.  “Can you forget I said that?  Sorry, that’s…I said a little too much.”  

“Done.”  You promise, and she gives you a warm smile.

“Thank you.  Anyways, I’m happy to ask her for you.”  Bethany promises, “Just not until she’s had a glass of wine and relaxes.  Right now she’s a bit running all over.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty to do.”  You say, setting aside the bin, and gathering up the fabric you picked out of it, “What sort of mask are you going to make?”

You spend some more time going through the bins, until you’re left with piles and piles of every sort of decorative bits and bobs imaginable.  You probably could have saved yourself some money by skipping the craft store, but on the other hand, you know you have exactly what you need now.

By the time you both have done all the work, people are coming inside, bringing with them the smell of snow…and a lot of noise.  It makes things pleasantly festive in no time flat, feeling more like a party.

Carver shouts for Bethany across the house, and she pops up, promising you she’ll be back soon.

Let’s check our messages while we have a quiet minute.  It’s going to be busy soon.

Sipping at your neglected coffee, you fish out your phone and glance at it.  A couple messages from Sera, mostly just bitching about work.  Yesterday she was trying to convince you one of her internet buddies should come to Halamshiral.  Today she seems to think it’s a good idea to invite Zevran.

You know you have to invite someone soon, and Dorian’s already told you there’s no way in hell he’s going, so that’s out.

Someone who can help be a buffer between Sera and Solas would probably be a good idea, but more than that…someone you can trust.  You’re still not sure.  It’s a ridiculously big decision.

There aren’t a ton of people on that list.  Merrill, Zev, Bethany and Carver, of course.  Fenris, maybe, or Dagna?   Well, and Cole, but you can’t imagine trying to make him go to a party like that, he’d be miserable.  You could always ask, though.

…You could ask Isabela?

Somehow, that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

You text Sera back something non-committal, and then check your daily iguana update from Cole.  Important stuff.  

“It looks as if a disco ball exploded in here.”  You hear a voice say dryly from the hallway.

Glancing up with a smile, you meet Fenris’ eyes.  He looks like he got the worst of it outside, his hair is slicked down, wet, and his cheeks are a bit red.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t going to put sparkles on your mask, Fenris.”  You tease him.

“I never make one.”  He says, lifting his glass and taking a drink.

Red wine at eleven in the morning?  Well, it is a party.

More sparkles for the rest of us!

“You are more than welcome to them.”  Fenris says, lifting his glass to you.

You lift your coffee in return, and then take a sip from it.  You sit in companionable silence for a minute (well, he stands), until he abruptly clears his throat, drawing your attention.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”  He says, almost stiltedly formal.

You’ve never really seen him be uncomfortable before.  You watch him shift his weight from foot to foot, before abruptly blinking, shaking your head.

“Sure.  Of course.  Is something wrong?”

“I couldn’t say.  No.  I meant to…”  He stops, staring down into his glass.

“Is there…”

“I was wondering if you could look at something for me.”  He interrupts you, glancing back up again, “If it is not too much of an imposition.”

“I don’t know.  It depends on what it is?”  You reply, confused, “If it’s a sixth toe or something, well, I’m not a doctor.”

“What?  No.  I meant,”  He clears his throat, and continues, “something written.  That I’ve…written.  You have said that you write, and I have never shown anyone…I would like to know if I am wasting my time.”

Of course.  I would love to.

 He seems relieved, and maybe a little bit less tense now.  Fenris doesn’t seem to interrupt you on purpose, though he didn’t notice he did it.  It’s not bothersome enough to point out.

“Thank you.  I’m certain it will probably seem somewhat…amaturish, but I do not have many people who I feel would be…”  There he pauses, and then grimaces and admits, “I suppose I could ask Varric, but he does it for a living.  It isn’t that I do not trust him…”

“Maybe you need someone a little more amaturish themselves to read it first?”  You ask.

“Perhaps.”  He agrees, and then shares a smile with you, “Thank you for not being offended.”

“I figure if you wanted me to be offended, you’d try.”  You tell him, not hiding your grin, “I bet you can insult with the best of them.”

“I have been known to cut a man down to size, should the situation call for it.”  He agrees, lifting his glass of wine, “Sera says you’re going out of town next week?”

Oh, right.  They work together.

Yeah.  Sera and Solas.  I’m just hoping they don’t snark each other to death.

“You’re brave.”  Fenris compliments, and then adds dryly, “Or extremely foolish.”

“I’m thinking maybe both.”  You say, with a laugh.

“Did Sera tell you about the time she snuck live ladybugs into his mail disguised as an express package?”  Fenris asks you, cracking a small, sly smile.

“No.  Really?”

“Really.  They were everywhere.  Fifteen hundred of them, I believe she said.”  He says, shaking his head slightly, “Meredith was incensed.  It wasn’t as if they stayed in the store, they ended up everywhere.  He never did give away who it was, even though Meredith badgered him for ages.”

“I can’t believe she hasn’t told me that story.  Or him, for that matter.”  You muse, and then laugh quietly, “I can imagine it, though.”

“Imagine what?”  

Fenris glances over his shoulder as Bethany pops into view around the corner, and you lift a hand in greeting.  She returns it, and then glances between you curiously.

“Solas covered in ladybugs.”  Fenris informs her, and she laughs.

“Oh!  I remember that!”  Bethany says, eyes crinkling at the corners, “That was when I met Sera, I think, because you told Hawke about it, and…”

“Hawke insisted upon meeting Sera.”  Fenris agreed, dryly, “Kindred spirits of a sort.”

“Something like that.”  Bethany says, and then turns her attention to you, “Mother says it’s all right if you borrow a dress.  She sighed, very heavily, and said ‘at least someone will be appreciating them’.  I think she’s a bit put out I’m not interested in one of those…society ball things.  She’s been trying for ages.”

Your mom should get with the times!  Make Carver have one.  He can wear a tiara.

You make both of them laugh, which is always a nice feeling.  Good to know Fenris appreciates a dumb joke, too.  Then again, he is Hawke’s friend.  Bethany promises to take you to look at the dresses after lunch, which has the added benefit of getting both of you out of the traditional ‘being ordered around by Leandra to put up decorations’.

You settle in to get working on your mask, with Fenris continuing to fend off you and Bethany’s attempts to get him to make one.  He doesn’t leave, though, which makes you think he’s still enjoying himself.  

Since you already have a clear idea in mind, you don’t have to fuss too much, but make sure it’s as perfect as possible.  No bubbles in the fabric, no stray bits of thread or a piece out of place.  You want it to look nice.  Professionally nice, if at all possible.

Everyone else trickles in, in various states of damp or flustered, in the case of Leandra.  It’s the group you were expecting, and everyone’s happy to see you, even Anders, which is nice.  You’re glad you took the time to talk to him, because he’s not acting strangely at all now.

It might have been a little awkward otherwise.

Merrill seems to have been the loser of the snowball battle, because she’s a bit late to join, entering in what must be some of Hawke’s spare clothes.  They’re practically swallowing her, and her hair is slicked back, drenched, but it’d take more than that to ruin her good spirits.

It’s a nice group.  Homey, but a bit chaotic and noisy.  You’re glad you came.

Eventually you’re forced to leave your mask to dry, and everyone’s hustled off to lunch.  You’re a bit surprised, but even Hawke manages to settle down for the meal.  It’s obvious a lot of care went into it- it’s a bit on the fancy side.

At first it’s just a touch intimidating, until Isabela catches you looking over the wide array of silverware uncertainly, and flashes you a wink from across the table.  You feel yourself relax a little.

You navigated more difficult things.

“I never know which spoon is which.”  Merrill announces from your left when soup is delivered to the table, “It’s not the little tiny one, is it?”

“No, that’s the earwax spoon.”  Hawke says seriously, picking up the one next to it, “This one’s for the soup, Merrill.”

“Oh, yes.  Thank you.”  Merrill says happily, picking up hers.

“The small one is the tea spoon.”  Leandra interjects in a long-suffering voice.

“For you, maybe, but I…”  Hawke says with a grin, stopping at the warning look from their father, “What?”

“Don’t torment your mother.  You have the rest of the day to do that.”  Malcolm replies, barely hiding a smile.

Leandra just sighs.

You might as well ask if you don’t know what to use.  No one minded Merrill asking.

You decide not to be embarrassed about your ignorance.  After all, when would you have a reason to learn these things before today?  Then again, did you ever expect you’d need to know florigraphy, or about street art?  It’s fun to pick up new information.  

Even if you’re not sure if you’ll ever use it.

Nobody seems to mind when you can’t tell your fish fork and your salad fork apart.  Actually, Leandra seems more pleased than annoyed that you’ve had to ask.  You assume she just likes people humoring her.  

Varric shows up belatedly about halfway through the meal, which only ruffles things a little.  The conversation immediately picks up, and by the time coffee and dessert come, Malcolm, Hawke, and Varric are arguing rather animatedly about business.  Leandra seems to have given up.

You’re watching Carver awkwardly try to flirt with an oblivious Merrill when Bethany nudges your shoulder.

“You have to work, don’t you?  Did you want to go look at the dresses now?”  

You glance down at your phone, slipping it out of your pocket.  Oh, yikes, yeah.  You’re going to have to get moving soon.  You could come back later to look, you suppose, or try to do it now.

Should we ask your mom to come with?  I think she’d enjoy it.

It’s nice to ask, you assume, since she is offering to let you borrow a dress.  Luckily, both Bethany and Leandra are pleased by the idea, and fairly quickly you find yourself being chivied downstairs.  

“In a few years if I want to keep things, I will have to get some sort of temperature controlled closet.”  Leandra declares, flicking on a light as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

The basement is finished and fairly nice, the area you’re in mostly full of bookshelves and covered furniture.  

“I’m sure you could find someone to buy them, mother, if you feel as if it’s too much trouble.”  Bethany says, and then smiles at the faint sigh, “Or we could just pack them away carefully.”

“That would probably be for the best.”  Leandra says, and then shakes her head, “I always wonder what I’m keeping them for, but at least they’re appreciated now and again.”

“I’ll be very careful.”  You promise her, and she gives you a faint smile, “I really wasn’t expecting to have to go to a party this fancy, so I’ve been caught a bit flat-footed.”

“A good fit is worth more than a label.”  Leandra says, pulling open a long, sliding door as you approach a large closet tucked between two heavy bookcases, “You seem as if you might be about my size from when I was younger.”

The closet’s full of…well, you were expecting gowns, but everything’s packed up in long garment bags, or sealed up on the shelf above, everything carefully labeled.  A bit less dramatic, but probably more sensible.

“What about that dress I wore last spring?”  Bethany suggests.

“No, I don’t think so.”  Leandra says, after a glance at you, eyes critical, “I think I may have something, however…”

Leandra knows what she’s doing, they’re hers.  I bet she knows exactly what would look good.

“Velvet and taffeta are a bit out of style, aren’t they?”  Leandra asks, and then smiles faintly when Bethany sighs.

“You know they are.”  Bethany accuses, and then laughs, “As are those huge sleeves, mother.”

“Most of those dresses I bought for myself.”  Leandra says, carefully sorting through the hangers, pulling one down, “My mother didn’t approve, but I wasn’t going to wear floor-length, full skirted thing with trains and beaded bodices to school dances and out with my friends.  I’d look horribly out of date.”

“Funny that the things grandmother picked out are the ones still in style.”  Bethany teases, and then giggles at the look her mother gives her.

You have to stifle a laugh yourself, but Leandra finally shakes her head and smiles.

“She had a good eye, but when you’re young, you just want to fit in.  No matter how ridiculous it looks in retrospect.”  Leandra agrees with a sigh, pulling down a dress at last, “Here we go.  Why don’t you step around the corner and try this one on?  I’ll find another one.”

Maybe this is a bit more in-depth than you were expecting…

But still, you want the dress to be right, and you don’t want to be rude when she’s lending you one.  Maybe you can eke out a little extra time?

Let’s try it on, and text Sera quick and beg for an extra half hour.  

You send a quick, pleading text to Sera, making sure she knows exactly why you are.  She might think your insistence on finding the ‘right’ dress is silly, but she wants to go so badly that you don’t think she’s going to kick up a fuss.  You’re still the keeper of the keys, after all.

It takes a minute for her to respond, as you pull the dress on over your pants, leaving your shirt and phone on a chair.  The floor-length dress is very pretty, clean lines and very tasteful.  You can see what they were talking about, it’s very ‘classic’.  A bit Grace Kelly.

It’s gorgeous, really, and it fits you pretty well, but it’s also very simple.

You check your phone once you manage to do up the back partway.  Sera sent a simple ‘I guess.’ which is probably the best you’ll get.  You’ll have to make up for it somehow.

You put your phone back down, and then step out when Bethany calls after you.  She gives a little gasp, and claps her hands.  Leandra just eyes you critically, lips thoughtfully pursed.

“You look so pretty!” Bethany exclaims.

It’s really nice.  I just worry maybe it’s a bit too simple?

“But it does fit you.”  Leandra replies, the measuring look in her eyes still there, “Which is the more important thing.”

“It’s not as if you could get it tailored.”  Bethany agrees, and then gives a little sigh, “Which is what mother tells me every time I want to take the sleeves off of that green dress.”

“I don’t mind lending them, darling, but if you want to alter them, you can wait until I’ve handed them down properly.”  Leandra replies, sounding fondly amused, “I’ll give in sooner or later.”

“Until then, I’ll just have to plot.”  Bethany says, and then brightens, turning to gaze into the closet again, “What about the one with the layered skirt, mother dear?”

“The tulle?  With the embroidered bodice?  Yes, that could work…”  Leandra agrees, turning back to the closet and sorting through the dresses again, finally pulling another garment bag down.

This one is a bit more full.  You assume the skirt’s a bit bigger than the one you’re wearing.

“Please do try to hang up the dress neatly when you take it off, won’t you?”  She asks you, draping the new bag over your arms as you obediently extend them.

“I’ll be very careful.”  You promise.

Ducking back around the corner again, you undo the dress you’re wearing and carefully put it away.  The new one comes out and it’s…definitely less simple than the one before.  A full skirt, and plenty of embellishments on the bodice, both parts of the dress the same color.  It’s pretty, and more decorated, but definitely not an ‘everyone in the room is going to stare’ dress.

You try it on.

I don’t know.  What do you guys think?

You step out, and do a little turn when Leandra gestures.  The skirt is fun, you have to admit, even with your pants in the way you can feel the weight of it, the way it twists around you when you turn.

You’re not going to be able to run in it, but it certainly is a party dress.

“I think you look beautiful.”  Bethany says, and then adds almost apologetically, “I think that style suits you!  But maybe not in that color.  Mother?”

“I agree entirely, Bethany.”  Leandra says, turning back to the closet, “But I know exactly what dress you need, now.”

“All…right?”  You say uncertainly, reaching back to undo the dress.  “Are you sure?”

“Certain.”  Leandra says briskly, “Completely certain.”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

Holding the front of the dress up loosely, you take the heavy garment bag from her in the other.  Time is running low, you really do have to be going.  But…do you really just want to take the dress and go?

Don’t be dumb, try it on.  If this is the dress, you’ll know once you’ve tried it.

You’re determined to get this right.  So far you’ve been pretty stubborn about finding the right thing, and that doesn’t look to be changing.

You step back around and carefully slip out of the second dress, putting it away before unzipping the third.  This one is a little bit less…floofy than the second one.  Less Grace Kelly, more Elizabeth Taylor, but still both Edith Head.  So to speak.

It is beautiful, more concerned with style and design than extra embellishments. 

Like the others, it fits you fairly well, though the skirt’s long enough you’ll probably have to wear some decently high heels to keep from stepping on the hem.  Shoes!

That’s something else you’re going to need.  Mental list.

You have some trouble with the back, still trying to fasten it up as you step out.  Bethany quickly ducks around you and handles it for you, the top fitting you snugly, though your pants make it bunch up oddly at the waist.

“This color is much better.”  Bethany says approvingly, “I really do like it, but I’ve liked all of them, I suppose.  What matters is that you like it.”

I think it’s just perfect.  I’m glad I listened to you both!

You think this is it.

Hard to really ‘feel’ the dress without the shoes and heavy duty underwear and all of that, but it fits well, it’s the right color, and it’s gorgeous.  You feel lucky to have found it, because you’re really out of time.

With profuse thanks, you get back out of the dress and into your own clothes, taking care with it.  Leandra gives you some instructions, rather stern ones at that, but it’s her dress, so you’d better follow them to the letter.

No cleaning it, you need special deodorant, keep it hung up but not by the shoulders, if you spill anything on it just dab it up as best you can, but don’t rub or…well, it’s complicated.  You’re going to have to be extra careful.

But you’re only going to this to do recon, right?  Nothing more…exciting.

Not that it isn’t exciting.

The party’s still going, but sadly, you need to leave.  You say your hasty goodbyes to the house full of people, carefully tuck the dress into your trunk where it won’t be seen while you’re working, and head back on over to the mall.

Sera’s a little annoyed with you when you get in, but not too badly.  She makes you promise to pick up a shift for her some time.  Not exactly a fair swap, but she pulled your butt out of the fire when you needed her to.

She doesn’t stay to chat, even though you have a lot to talk about.  The trip’s less than a week away.  It’s just all so strange and clandestine…and you really don’t feel comfortable talking about it in public, or telling people about it.  Not even Bethany.

You did trust Dorian with it, but he helped you out.  It really is a shame he doesn’t want to go, but you understand.  

Still, you have a ticket left, and you need to figure out who to ask.  Soon.

We should ask Sera.  We’re bringing Solas after all, it’s only fair.

You don’t have time to text Sera until your break.  Work’s busy tonight.  When you duck into the back to hide and get your breath back, you send her a message.  By the time you have to head back out, she messages you back, and says she’ll come over tomorrow to talk it over.

There isn’t much time, but luckily, not a lot of preparation to be done when you don’t know what the heck’s going to happen.  You can only run over ‘what ifs’ in your head so many times before you have to admit you don’t know what you’re doing.  Halamshiral and Fen’harel are both big unknowns.

You’re studying to be a librarian, not a spy.

Solas will be there, at least, and he’s level-headed.  Plus you know he used to get into a lot of trouble, even if he doesn’t like talking about it too much.  He obviously managed to get back out of trouble again, which is promising.

The rest of your evening at work is even busier than the beginning, but with the less pleasant sort of people that you’re more accustomed to than holiday shoppers.  The best you can usually hope for with the ‘regulars’ is that they don’t try to make too much conversation.

By the time eight rolls around, you’re ready to get out of there.

Considering the dress in your trunk, you drive across the street instead of walking, and re-park near the mall.  You did tell Solas you’d stop over, but you weren’t expecting to feel so worn out.  It’s been a long day.  A shower would be really nice right now.

And the mall is still full of holiday shoppers.

We said we’d come by, so let’s just go over there.  Hugs will ward off the tired.

Parking as close as you can, you start your trudge across the lot.  It’s cold tonight, sharp-cold, but the sky is clear.  You’re lucky you haven’t gotten sick yet, with the changing of the seasons, and hopefully it’ll hold out for a while.

The protesters are still over by the Valmont entrance, but there’s less every day.  It’s obviously starting to lose steam.  It draws your mind back again to next weekend.  What could they possibly do that will really get people to pay attention?  To make things change?  And what cause exactly are they wanting to draw eyes to?

Or do they just want the attention, and don’t actually care about anything else?

Well, you’ll find out.  And you’ll make sure the truth is at least out there, even if no one pays attention or cares.  You have a feeling Sera will make sure someone does, though.

The warmth and noise hits you like a blanket to the face when you come inside.  You’re tired enough that the earworm holiday music is more annoying than enjoyable, but at least the decorations are still pretty.

You try to focus on those, instead of the overwhelming crowd of people moving past you, often jostling you as you try to slip into the flow.

Your trek takes you past the gallery, then a jewelry shop before the fountain.  Are you going to need to accessorize?  Now that you have the dress, you can worry about things like that.

Your tired mind is full of questions, it seems.  

Antediluvia has, as always, comfortingly low lights, welcome after the glare of the broad mall corridor.  You’re really coming to enjoy Solas’ shop, with its weird mishmash of artifacts and books.  Your tired eyes adjust slowly as you turn in.  Cole’s nowhere to be seen, but Solas did say he was alone tonight.

He’s behind the counter, writing away in what looks like a ledger.  As you approach, he glances up, and his flat expression of concentration relaxes into a small, but genuine smile.

Say nothing, just flop dramatically onto the counter.

You plant your cheek on the counter and heave a long sigh, arms splaying out across it.  It’s cool against your cheek, which is still flushed from the outside to hot stuffy crowded transition.

There’s silence for a couple of seconds, and then Solas chuckles quietly, his pen clicking against the polished counter as he sets it aside.  His hand settles on the back of your neck, and starts massaging slowly.  He’s…actually really good at that.

“You can keep doing that forever.”  You suggest hopefully, and then smile when he chuckles again, “Hi.”

“Good evening.”  He greets you, long fingers still obediently massaging, “Are you all right?”

“Long day, I’ll be fine after a shower and some down time.”  You promise, and then ask, “How was your day?”

“Surprisingly busy, though things have been somewhat quieter for the last hour.  I am somewhat tired myself, I will be grateful when the holiday has passed.”

“Good thing we didn’t plan another late-night date.”  You say, finally opening your eyes again and glancing up at him.

“And here I thought we were going to break into the rare books section of the downtown library tonight.”  Solas replies, withdrawing his hand after a small caress of your cheek with his knuckles.

Next time.  I’m not up for more than a movie on the couch, if you want to come over.

“Hmmh.  Tomorrow is…”

“Sunday.”  You finish for him, and then smile at the faint ‘ah’, “Losing track of the days?”

“Only momentarily.  I would like to say yes, but I need to preface my acceptance by pointing out that I won’t be terribly energetic…though I may not be alone in that.”  Solas teases you, meeting your smile with one of his own.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly bouncing off the walls tonight.”  You agree, pushing yourself up quickly as someone enters the store, “Oops, better behave.”  

“I do own the store.”  Solas points out, and then chuckles faintly, “But you are likely correct.  Were you planning to keep me company for a while?”

“You are my social calendar for the evening.”  You tell him, and are graced with a deeper smile in response, “Though I might have to find a spot out of the way…hmm, that seat behind the counter looks pretty unoccupied.”

For a couple seconds, Solas frowns at you, but you can tell it’s just for show.  Finally he sighs, and gestures to the chair, “I suppose I can afford to be generous.”

Grinning to yourself, you duck around the counter, throwing yourself into the old leather armchair.  It’s practically a twin of the one in back- you suppose he has his preferences.  Luckily, that means it’s comfortable.

And big.

“Give me a moment, won’t you?  There’s a book that came in the day before yesterday that I wanted to show you, but I need to help this person out of my store.”  

“You mean help them find something.”  You reply to him impishly.

“If that makes them leave faster, yes.”  He replies, stepping around the counter while you laugh, fighting back his own smile.

He’s not gone for long, it seems the customer is just browsing.  Apparently watching them shop and being overly solicitous is enough to chase them out.  Solas is polite about it, but you know chasing them out was probably his plan.

You’re starting to suspect that’s half of the reason he starts lecturing people about the things in the store.  Which probably means he was trying to chase you out the first time you met him.

That’s actually pretty funny.

I wonder what it says about me that I was nosy enough to counter your anti-shopper tactics.

“That is an excellent question.”  Solas says, searching through one of the bookshelves, “I would imagine it says a great many things about your…qualities.  Your obstinacy, for one.”

“Obstinacy!”  You laugh, “Excuse me?”

“Yes, indeed.  And then, of course, there is the endless curiosity.”  He replies smoothly, tipping a book out of the row and tugging it out.

“Well, I guess that’s a little less insulting.”

“It was a compliment, so I am relieved to hear it.”  Solas says, a hint of sly humor in his voice, “And of course, your considerable charm and intelligence.  But those hardly need mentioning.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”  You say, hiding your fluster with a slow smile as he approaches the counter, “I sort of like hearing them be mentioned.”

His eyes meet yours as he leans over the counter and offers the book to you.  You take the heavy book in both hands, the textured, rough old cloth cover a familiar feeling under your fingertips.  You’re not really focused on the book, though, but the rather intensely warm look in his eyes.

“You are…beautiful.”  He tells you simply, practically breathing the word, voice low and passionate.

“What does that have to do with trying to scare me out of your store?”  You ask,  voice hushed as your cheeks warm.

“Absolutely nothing.”  Solas says, holding your gaze.

Oh, you know he’s getting kissed for that one.

You slide back to your feet without a word, setting the book down on the counter as you lean over it.  Solas is waiting for you, fingers cradling the curve of your jaw as you lean up to meet him.  

Fierce but sweet, the kiss is quick and passionate, his mouth relaxing as yours demands.  Nose bumping against the side of his, you break the kiss just enough for him to breathe out a soundless laugh against your lower lip.  

He sounds almost flustered, which makes you smile languidly.

“You are…far too dangerous.”  He accuses, and then clears his throat.

“You started it.”  You reply, and then glance down as his fingers trail down your cheek to fall to your hand on the book.

You let him draw it out from under your palms, making you straighten up.  He’s still intimately close, but things aren’t quite so intense now.

“Considering our…impending trip, and the discussion you had before, I thought you might enjoy this book about the history of Satinalia.  A unique perspective.”  He explains, relinquishing it to your hands again, but tucking his around them, “It is a bit old and outdated, but it discusses the Elvhen connections at length.”

“And it’s old and smells good, and feels nice to hold.”  You quip, with a faint smile, “Which makes it far superior to a wikipedia article.”

“I’ve always felt the same.”  He agrees quietly, and then reaches up to stroke a thumb from your temple to tuck it behind an ear, “I have some things to finish.”

I have a book!  I’ll be just fine.

He smiles at you, but not for the first time, there’s an odd sense of melancholy, distance about it.  It reminds you of your night at the planetarium for some reason.   You hold his stare until the wistfully distant smile warms, and he caresses your cheek one last time before turning away.

He doesn’t say anything.

After a minute, you pick up the book and curl back into the big chair.  It creaks when you settle into it, a comfortingly solid sound.  It’s wide enough that you could tuck up your legs if you wanted, settling into the cup of it, head cradled by the curve of the back.

The book is interesting, and absorbing enough that the time passes easily.  A few people come in, but no one bothers you, Solas seems skilled at intercepting them.  

Time passes, with a few small interruptions for a greeting caress or a brief, lightly affectionate kiss, but your mind is mostly absorbed with what you’re reading.

Until your phone vibrates gently in your pocket, and drawing it out your realize it’s about ten to ten.  Time for things to close up.

Solas is nowhere to be seen.

As you drag yourself out of your reading, you realize you can hear a muffled voice coming from your right.  Behind the heavy door that leads to the back room, it must be.

Despite the distance, you realize it sounds…angry.

Let’s go knock.

Tucking the book you’ve been reading in against the arm of the couch, you rise to your feet.  It’s odd to hear Solas with his voice raised- you know it’s him, even if you can’t make out what he’s saying.

Reaching the back room door, you rap on it firmly with your knuckles, and the argument dies abruptly.

You only have to wait maybe twenty seconds before the door opens, and Solas is staring down at you.  He looks calm.  Almost deceptively so, considering the recently-raised voices.

“Hey…”  You say, curiously, “Is everything okay?”

“I apologize.  An…issue with one of my suppliers.” He assures you, reaching a hand down instantly to caress the edge of your jaw.

“I haven’t heard you get that upset before.”  You say, only half joking, leaning into his touch, “You’re all right?”

“I will be.”  He promises you firmly.

Before you have a chance to answer, he steps around you, moving for the counter.  You turn to face him, feeling just a little off balance still.

“Have you eaten dinner?”  He asks you.

I bet you haven’t.  Are you going to let me make you something?

“Are you offering to cook for me?”  Solas asks you with surprise, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m really not up for going out, I don’t want you to go hungry, and I enjoy cooking, so yes, I guess I am.”  You say, grinning a bit at the uncertain look he’s giving you, “You can go to the grocery store and pick out what you want me to cook, you know.  It’s not like I’m going to throw a cream of mushroom soup on canned green beans and serve it to you.”

“Well, if you were planning to kill my appetite…”  Solas says dubiously, and then smiles faintly when you laugh, looking less tense now, “You’ve made it all sound so logical, how could I possibly argue?”

“Since we’re in separate cars, it seemed sensible.  I have all the basics at home, so you don’t have to worry about that part.” 

“Consider me thoroughly convinced.  All right.”  Solas agrees, and then glances towards the entrance as someone wanders in, “Excuse me, we are closing.”

As he steps away to deal with it, you move to the counter yourself, to gather up your things.

We should say goodbye and duck out now.  He knows where we live, and a quick clean-up of the apartment is in order.

Once Solas has yet again prevented someone from trying to buy something from him, you get a kiss, make sure he remembers your address, and then head out to the parking lot.

The mall is a bit less of a crush this time, though still crowded enough.  You see Cullen briefly, but he looks far too busy for even a hello, let alone a chat.  Probably for the best.

It’s frigid outside tonight, everything frosting over and sparkling in the vibrantly bright lot lights.  It’s pretty, but sadly, also means you’re sniffling before you make it to your car.  Hopefully you won’t end up sick.

Your car’s where you left it, no worse for the wear, no new dings or dents from holiday shoppers in a hurry to buy…

You stop, when you realize something’s been tucked under your windshield wiper.  Not uncommon in a mall parking lot, usually just an advertisement or one of those silly Andrastian religious tracts.  Neither of those things would make you pause, but what’s waiting for you does.

It’s a rose.  

A red one, petals dusted with frost, glittering in the light.  There’s a note tied to it.

Which might be sweet and not creepy if you weren’t all fed up with surprise notes, and if it was from the gentleman you were seeing.  Which it obviously isn’t.

Solas has been with you all evening.

Felassan’s sense of humor is not very funny any more.

You said you were all in, right?  Maybe it’s some info you need, even if the delivery method is creepy and weird.  Read it.

You’re not really impressed.  Not scared, not nervous, but also not in the least bit impressed.  Leaning over the hood of your car, you pull the rose’s stem out from under your windshield wiper.  

The note is in a small envelope with a hole punched in it for the ribbon, about the size floral cards usually are.  It’s not a card inside, though, but a small folded piece of paper.  You tug it out with two fingers, and unfold it, sniffling absently.

Here I thought you liked me.  I would really, really take it as a personal favor to me if you uninvited the old man. 

He’s no fun at all.

Trust me, I’ve tried to get him to let go, but it doesn’t work.  Ditch him while you still can.  My friend doesn’t care, but they don’t know him like I do.  

You don’t know him like I do.

I’ll be in touch with one of you on Friday, I’m heading out of town.  Got some things to set up.

xoxo,

Your Loving Husband

You read it over twice, still unimpressed.  He’s really good at being vaguely threatening, isn’t he?  There’s a few conclusions to be drawn here, at the moment.  One, Felassan seems to be somewhat scared of Solas, which you noticed the first time you met him.

Two, he seems to be trying to get you to be mistrustful of Solas.  Weird, but maybe that’s just to make you doubt enough not to bring him.  Who even knows at this point?

And thirdly, he’s really running that stupid ‘husband’ joke into the ground.

“Learn when to stop.”  You sigh, unlocking your car door and pulling it open.

Whee.  Machinations.  You’re too tired for this shit.

Rose and note go into the passenger’s seat, and then you start driving home.  You need to do some picking up before Solas gets there.  Nothing too dire, but a few dishes to be washed, and the cats should be fed and cleaned up after.

There’s a trash can in the lobby of your apartment building.  Perfect place to dispose of annoying messages.

We’re keeping both.

You decide to save the dramatic gestures, and opt not to destroy evidence.  You keep both note and pretty flower.  It’s looking a little sad after its mild freezing, but hopefully it can perk up a little.  Also hopefully, it won’t get eaten by a cat.

The flowers Solas got you had to be monitored, lest they be attacked.

Speaking of tiny terrors, they are loud and excited when you get home after a long day out.  A day of nothing but inferior crunchies is a very sad day.  The first order of business is, of course, to get them their wet food.

There is no time for petting or cuddling on an empty stomach.

You feed them, change their water, and then start worrying about cleaning up before Solas gets in.  The rose goes in a tall cup until you find something better, stem trimmed, and then you start picking up the apartment.

It doesn’t take too long, you’ve been pretty diligent about keeping up with things.  Still, even if the cleaning was unnecessary, you feel better for having done it.  The last thing you do is hang up the precious dress in your closet, and then you check the time.

He’ll probably be here soon, unless he’s the kind of guy that takes forever at the grocery store.

Yeah, changing, but come on.  We need something less ‘fuck it’ and more ‘fuck me’.

You decide to forego some comfort to look a little nicer, but since you’re not going out, there’s no need to overdo it.  Just getting changed helps you perk up a little, something about getting out of the day’s work clothes does that.

You’re not going to throw on a negligee or anything that try-hard, but a bit of cleavage (and the Good Bra and matching panties) never hurt anyone, right?  

There’s time to brush out your hair and wash your face to try and push back a little more sleepiness when you get buzzed.  The building’s old enough that you have to go down and let him in, so you toss on some slip-ons and head down.

Fen tries to come with you, but you scoot him back into the apartment.

The stairwell is a little dark and creaky, but the downstairs lobby is still brightly lit.  Solas is standing outside the door with a bag tucked into his arm, gazing up the street.  When you approach, he glances at you, and lifts his free hand.  You repeat the gesture, and then move to get the door for him.  

When you open it, the sudden blast of outside cold makes you shiver, and you quickly step back and out of the way before greetings even start.

“In, in!”  You demand, and Solas chuckles, slipping through the door.

“Hello to you as well.”  He replies, glancing around as you let the door swing closed, keys rattling.  “I do like this building.  I can’t recall if I’ve ever known anyone who lived here.”

“No?”  You ask, leading the way up the stairs, “I like it, too, even though I wish they’d done a better job looking over the place before I moved in.  I’ve had to replace door knobs and fix linoleum.”

“You are a very capable woman.  I enjoy that about you.”  He says, comfortably casual, “That can be a common problem with these older places.”

“Thank you…and yeah, I’m sure it’s a constant game of something or another falling apart.”  You agree, smiling at the compliment.

You sort through your keys as you come up on the landing, hustling ahead to get the door unlocked.  As you expected, the instant you open the door, Fen comes rocketing out, but you’re ready.

With a squeak of complaint, he gets scooped up and tucked against your shoulder.  His whining immediately turns to purring, and he digs his claws into your skin.

“He does that a lot.  Naughty Fen.”  You inform Solas, who is chuckling.

When you speak, though, the laughter stops.  He still follows you into the apartment, but when you glance over, Solas is eyeing you.

“You named your cat Fen?”  He asks you.

Nope, I named him Fen’harel.

“You named your cat Fen’harel.”  Solas repeats blankly, as you close and lock the apartment door behind him.

For some reason, you find his confusion amusing, not worrying.  You release the kitten as he squirms, and he climbs up to perch on your shoulder, staring at Solas curiously.

“I did.  He’s a troublemaker.  His sister is Atisha, she’s around here somewhere.”  You say, offering your arms out for the grocery bag.

You have to wait for a couple seconds, but finally Solas blinks, shakes his head, and lets you take the bag from him.  Fen jumps off of your shoulder to the kitchen counter, and then onto the floor.

“i would point out that naming a cat the Dread…Wolf is a bit of a misnomer, but I assume you know that, and don’t care.”  He finally says.

“Got it in one!”  You agree, curiously opening the bag and setting it on the counter.  “So, what are we having for dinner?”

“I know that you offered to cook, but you have had a long day.  I picked up some cured meats and cheese, and some good bread.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.  You’re probably right, anything too involved and we’d be starving anyways.”  You say, picking things out of the bag, “Oh, and wine!  Thank you.”

He didn’t get the cheap stuff, either.  It’s nice to have an indulgence sometimes, and fancy cheese is a pretty good one.  Especially with wine and bread to go along with.

“You’re welcome.”  Solas says, and then chuckles faintly.  “Do you have a secret admirer?”

What?  

You glance over, and realize he’s noticed the rose, which is looking a little bit sadder now.  Droopy.  Maybe it didn’t survive the frost.

Just Felassan again.  He left me a note, too.  It was on my windshield.

“Are you all right?”  

It’s the first thing Solas says at your casual pronouncement, but you can see he’s angry about it.  Not with you, but he certainly is upset, jaw tight, eyes hard.  Great.  Hopefully you haven’t ruined the evening.

“I’m fine.”  You say, turning to get a knife for the bread, and a large plate to put everything on, “Really.  Just fine.  More annoyed than anything else.  What do you feel like watching tonight?”

He doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, until you glance over at him curiously.  You recognize the expression on his face.  It’s the one he had earlier, at the shop, after the phone call that made him…oh.

On the phone with a ‘supplier’, huh?  Gee, who do you know that supplies things to him?  Felassan.  It wasn’t a lie, but it sure was close enough to one to make you uncomfortable.

“That was not a very graceful attempt to change the subject.”  He tells you.

“It isn’t a topic of conversation that makes for an enjoyable evening.”  You counter, turning your attention back to the bread, “I don’t want you to be angry.  I would much rather relax.”

“I will.  Soon.”  He promises you, still tense, “Will you let me see the note?  It might help put my mind at ease.”

Yes.

So, it was Felassan you were on the phone with earlier, wasn’t it?  Why didn’t you tell me the truth?

Fair’s fair.  If he wants to know, then he has to realize you have the right to as well.  You set the knife down and turn to pull the note out of your purse, and Solas sighs.

“Yes.”  He admits, “Though what I told you was the truth.  I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Not being honest is sort of the definition of lying.”  You counter, turning to hand him the note, “We could argue all night about the nature of truth.  I do want to respect your privacy, but can you really tell me it had nothing to do with me?”

“No.”  He says, taking the note from you, expression a bit distant, withdrawn now, “I suppose you are correct.  I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”  You say, turning back to arranging your dinner, unwrapping the cheese.

Solas reads the note fairly quickly, and then scoffs.  It almost sounds like a laugh, sardonic though it may be.

“I always thought I knew him well.”  He says, disappointment clear.

“People change?  Or, I guess maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.”  You say, and then suggest, “Wine?”

“I believe that would be a good idea.”  He agrees, reaching for the bottle, “You’re not upset?”

As long as you don’t make a habit of turning the truth into a game of three card monte, we’re fine.

You don’t quite get the laugh you were hoping for.  He just smiles faintly, nods, and then asks you where the corkscrew is.  Solas seems a little distant.

It’s actually a little worrying, but you’re pretty occupied with getting things set up.

The distance is all mental, though, once you both finally settle on the couch with your charcuterie dinner and a movie (something suitably intellectual but still light enough to be entertaining and not mentally taxing) he seems quite happy to have you tucked in against his side.

Like earlier at the shop, you’re subjected to random acts of physical affection, even if it’s just the occasional brush of fingers down your arm, or a light kiss on your head when he leans over you to get something to eat.  

You’re tired, it’s comforting, and the wine isn’t helping you be any more alert.

You never would have pegged him as being so casually affectionate, but he seems to be comfortable enough with you to let it show.  

Eventually Atisha appears and demands some of your brie, licking it from your fingers happily.  She seems perfectly content in your lap, until Solas leans over to refill your wine glass for you, and she hisses at him and poofs up, like a little calico gremlin.

Wow.  Have you ever really heard her hiss before?

At first you think she’s just been startled, but when he offers her the back of his hand to sniff, she takes a swipe at him, vicious little kitten-claws out.

Somebody doesn’t like Solas.

“She’s usually the well-behaved one.”  You say, giving a small scratch behind her ears as she curls back up in your lap, keeping one eye open to suspiciously watch Solas.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing.”  Solas replies with amusement, handing your wine glass back to you.

You take it, with a smile of thanks, and then tilt your chin up as he leans down for a kiss.

The kitten gives a little squeaky, angry growl.

Make them get along.  Try bribery!  There’s more brie.

“Here, give me your hand.”  You demand of Solas, setting your wine aside and reaching for the cheese knife.  

Not an actual cheese knife.  It’s a butter knife, but you’re using it for the cheese.  He was nice enough not to comment on it.  Or your lack of decor, or…anything, actually.

He doesn’t seem into the cats, but he’s not bothered by them, either.  Then again, he did know they were here.  If he had a protest, he would have voiced it before.

Obediently, Solas lets you smear cheese on his finger, and then offers it to the spitty, hissy, territorial kitten.  

She growls at him.  And then…licks up the cheese, while trying to growl.  At the same time.

“I don’t know if I’m impressed, or concerned.”  You remark, giving her a pet down her back to try and tame the poofing.   

“Give her time.  You haven’t had them for long, after all.”  Solas points out, reasonably and relaxed, “They have had very exciting, short lives.”

“Things have been exciting for…all of us lately.  I don’t know how I’m going to get through Halamshiral.”  You say, glancing up from the kitten when his unoccupied hand reaches over to brush down your cheek.

“One day it will all just be stories people tell, and you will look back and wonder how they could have possibly happened.”  He tells you, with a faint smile, “You won’t have time for those thoughts when you’re in the moment.  You’ll simply live them.”

Well, better to live them than to tell stories about what you could have done.

“That’s very true.”  Solas agrees, glancing down as Atisha bites his finger, withdrawing it from his range, “And far better to have something to believe in, something worth striving towards.  After all, who knows what echoes we could leave behind in history?”

“You’re very philosophical tonight.”  You accuse, and then smile when he glances at you, “Is something bothering you?”

He stares into your eyes for a few seconds, and then smiles, wistfully sad, thumb drawing along your jaw as he cradles  your chin in his hand.

“I want to protect you.”  He admits quietly, “A feeling that persists despite knowing you have no need of it, and despite knowing that there is something in this…situation that is important beyond you and I.  I should ask you not to go, but I cannot, and I…”

His words trail off into silence, and he just stares at you.  Eventually he sighs, shakes his head, and starts to withdraw.

Just kiss him.

Ignoring kitten complaints, you reach for Solas as he pulls back, drawing him in again instead of letting him retreat.  He turns at your touch, leaning in as you draw him close.

Somehow, and probably to Atisha’s disgust as she hops out of your lap to escape, you end up tumbling back against the arm of the couch, pulling him with you.  The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant on his part, but he  doesn’t seem great at self-control.

It doesn’t take long before you have him kissing you in earnest.  

It reminds you of the first time he kissed you in the dark of the planetarium, just a little desperate, a little too intense.  His hands are behaving, staying above the shoulders, but the way he kisses you is practically indecent, tongue hungry, lips starving.  You respond in kind, heartbeat thudding wildly, breath caught until you start going lightheaded.

When it breaks with a soft, wet sound, your lower lip throbs, his thumb stroking over it as you inhale sharply.

Unlike that first remembered kiss, though, he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t ask for time and space.  

He just stares into your eyes.

Kiss him again.

He might have escaped, but you lure him back in easily.  It doesn’t take much more than a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a little nip and nudge of your nose, and he’s pulled in again.

The sharp, frantic edge is still there at first, his fingers holding too tight, a drag of his teeth across your lower lip making it ache.  Eventually, though, things start to relax. 

Hard edges soften, a little tug luring him in closer, encouraging him to shift his weight off of his own knees, press his chest to yours.  The fierce kiss turns into small, more softly affectionate caresses, languidly slow.

Your neck is starting to ache a little from the odd angle, but there’s no way you’re bringing it up.

When he pulls back, you protest wordlessly this time, forcing your eyes open to peer up at him.

“It’s late.”  He murmurs down to you, so close still that you can feel his breath on your skin.

First your cheek, then your neck as he leans down and nuzzles in affectionately.

So…come to bed.

Solas goes still against you, and then gives a low, quiet chuckle, felt against your neck.  He presses a kiss to your skin, and then pulls back.  His arm rests next to your head, supporting him and enfolding you all at once, narrowing your world into a small, private space.

“It is an invitation I would be hard pressed to refuse.”  He admits, smiling slowly as you reach up and brush your knuckles down his cheek.  He turns his head, kisses your hand, and then glances back and meets your eyes again.  “To sleep?”

The question goes unanswered for a moment, as the distinct noise of cat licking draws your attention to the side.  Glancing up and over Solas’ arm, you realize the terrible kitten children have dragged the remains of a wedge of cheese to the floor and are demolishing it.

You sigh, closing your eyes, and Solas laughs, head dropping against your cheek.

“I can’t catch a break.”   You sigh, and he kisses your flushed skin.

Despite the annoyance, and the fact that you should probably separate them from their kill, the break in mood does give you a second to catch your breath.  Try to think clearly.

I would love it if you’d stay, but I’m exhausted.  I just want to sleep, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather wake up next to.

“I will have to leave rather early, but…I agree entirely.”  Solas says, and then leans down to steal a kiss.

It’s a brief one, though, considering the cheese bandits on the floor.  With a caress of your cheek, he sits up, offering you a hand.  You take it, realizing that somewhere in there, the movie had ended.   

You didn’t even notice.

“Okay, okay…”  You sigh, leaning down and rescuing the cheese from the cats.  They complain, but you don’t give in. 

Hopefully this won’t cause any…litterbox issues.  At least you have the day off tomorrow, in case one of them ends up with an upset stomach.

Solas helps you clean up, which is so comfortable and homey that it’s actually a little flustering.  It’s nice that he’s so relaxed in your home, and he doesn’t seem oddly out of sorts like he was earlier.  Despite that, by the time you’re done you’re fairly sure you’re not the only one that’s tired.

“What time do you have to be up?”  You ask, when you’re done tucking everything into the fridge.

“Six would be wise.”  He replies, a bit regretfully, “I will have to go home before work.”

I’ll set the alarm for six, then.  

“Are you certain?”  He asks, and then smiles deeper at your confirming nod.  “Well, thank you.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I wouldn’t go back to bed after you leave.”  You tease him with a smile.  “Let me just show you the bedroom, and I’ll just…go get changed in the bathroom and get ready for bed?”

Okay, maybe you’re a wee bit nervous.  Little bit of butterflies, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it?  Not that it ever seems to stop you.  

“Do the cats share your bed?”  He asks, following after you, voice relaxed.

“Oh…yeah, they actually do.”  You say, glancing over your shoulder as you push your way into the bedroom, glad you did the quick clean-up.  “I can try and close them out?  Atisha might cry, though.  She does that a lot.”

“Hmmh.  She complains until she gets her way, is apparently territorial of you…”  Solas says, amused, “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“No, what?”  You ask, moving to the dresser to grab something to change into.

Not that you’re too shy to undress in front of him, but sleep is what’s on the agenda tonight.  Just sleep.  Better not to push it.

“You’re spoiling them.” 

He has a point there.

“Probably!”  You admit, flashing him a quick smile and then going back to fishing out a shirt, “They’ve had a rough start to life, though.  I’ll go get changed.  Meet you in bed?”

“I will meet you in bed.”  He agrees.

Pajamas in hand, you head back out again for the bathroom.

Not so fast!  It would be a shame not to peek a little, right?

Yeah, no.  Go get ready for bed.

It was just a passing little naughty thought, really.  You don’t want to be disrespectful.  The cats follow you to the bathroom, Fen still hopefully begging for more cheese.  You may have created a monster there.

You wash your face, brush your teeth, and change quickly.  

You don’t have an extra toothbrush, and you hope it doesn’t bother him.  Maybe you should go to the corner store and pick one up tomorrow.  The idea is sort of a pleasing one, even if you feel like it might be a bit premature.

But, well…it’s nice having him here.

Besides, it’s an extra toothbrush.  It could be for anyone, really, just a sensible thing to have on hand.  Right?

Right.

When you return, Solas is already in bed.  His shirt and pants are neatly folded on top of your dresser…you’re not long on other furniture.  You should probably offer him the shower, at least, but he looks pretty damn tired, and so are you.  

Instead, you crawl into bed, set the alarm on your phone, and then settle in.  A slow goodnight kiss turns into a tangled cuddle, and you’re too sleepy to wake up the butterflies in your stomach. You just enjoy it.

You’re so comfortable that not even Atisha’s protesting the horrible man in her bed manages to keep you from a well-earned sleep.

Good night.

END OF DAY 12