#ive been possessed by many little ficlet snippets while sick

[thedragonagelesbian]

Something something second chances...........

“And you don’t have to worry about threatening to kill me if I hurt him,” Anders added. Where he had been sheepish before, he now spoke with that disconcerting certainty that had scared Varric so much so many times over the last year. “If I hurt him again, I’ll take care of that myself.”

Varric could’ve just let the comment go. He was tired enough as is, and Anders had already given him enough grief for a lifetime. It was probably well within his rights to let the self-loathing slip by.

Instead, he sighed and said, “Blondie, you’ve got to stop saying shit like that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. That’s why you have to stop. As a storyteller, I get the appeal of the whole tragic self-sacrificing lovers thing. It makes for one hell of a dark romance novel. But as your…” Varric’s tongue stumbled into it before his mind did. For a moment, he actually paused to try to think if he knew a word for the recently acquired partner of his partner who was also once his dearest friend until being directly responsible for ruining their lives. For all his years of wordsmithing, nothing came to mind, and he tried to cover up his faltering with a cough. “Point is, this is real life, not a novel, and in real life, sometimes you hurt people you care about. You have to be okay with that without immediately jumping to this ‘he should want me dead’ shit.”

“After what I did in Kirkwall—”

“We’re not in Kirkwall anymore!” Varric didn’t mean to snap with quite as much vehemence as he did, but there was a hole in his heart where his home used to be, and all the self-flagellation in the world from Anders wasn't going to fill it again. It just reminded him of how much his chest ached. “Cyrus made his choice. He wants you to live. Start wanting it for yourself too.”

Anders had been looking like a kicked puppy ever since he had slunk into the Gallows with his tail between his legs. He had the self-hating pout down to a damn art form, and still he managed to outdo himself then. Head ducked, shoulders hunched, spine buckled underneath the weight of what Cyrus and Varric had asked of him. He'd only look more pathetic if he was sopping wet, and damn it if Varric didn't feel his heart stirring with pity.

“Look,” he tried again. “Cyrus and I have talked about why the two of you separated the first time around. You freaked out because he did his 'please let me die for you' shtick, right? Remember how scary that was to listen to? That doesn't become a fun, cool, normal thing just because you're the one doing it.”

“I…” Anders' voice cracked. “I suppose I see your point…”

“I sure fucking hope you do, because I already have one dead-set would-be martyr in my life. I don't want another.” He paused, shook his head, and let out a rough chuckle. “Fuck, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe the two of you deserve each other.”

“He deserves you,” Anders insisted quietly. “You don't know… It's so difficult to stop thinking like this. It's hard enough for me to imagine starting down that path, let alone making the progress Cyrus has… had, until I… But even then, you were there to stop him from spiraling further. You've helped him so much.”

Varric folded his arms and sighed again. “If you stick around, I'll help you too, Blondie.”

For the first time, Anders turned away from the fire to stare at Varric, his eyes wide and trembling. “Do you really mean that?”

Varric responded with a shrug, as if this was a simple, off-hand matter. As if he wasn't still boiling with anger over all the mage had cost him, had cost Cyrus. Maybe it was. Maybe he wasn't, or at least wouldn't be forever.

“What can I say? I'm a fixer.” He glanced past the fire to the elf curled up on their shared bedroll, sleeping as soundly as he ever did, escaping from all the horror and loss and tragedy, if only for a few hours each day. “We both are.”