carl's far too big to curl up at your side anymore - he's no longer a rambunctious pre-teen with a sweet side only you could access - he's grown now. but he still fits against your side just the same, this time with too-long limbs, and hesitation to jostle you. "get off the bed, carl," ian gripes, latching onto your free hand and giving it a mighty squeeze. "she literally just had a baby."

"the baby came out of her vag, not her arm. i'm not that stupid." carl spits back, looping his arms around your bicep.

his cheek smooshes against your shoulder, and you press your own against the top of his mane of curls. "do you wanna meet her?"

the look on ian's face indicates he's forgotten about the new baby when his eyes snap over to his older brother, and you press a kiss into carl's hair to hide your smile. "holy shit, look at her. she looks just like lip." he snorts, almost nervous to touch the child, even if he'd slathered his hands in hand sanitizer prior to coming in.

"yeah, shit luck, huh?" you snort, heart dropping a bit when carl unfurls himself from you to see his new niece. "all that work for nothing."

"i did, lip." you pout. you felt like you'd done something... wrong? like lip was angry at you. you'd just brought him the lunch he always forgot. "you didn't reply so i just-"

"-you just brought it in? couldn't wait?"

"why are you- why does that even matter?" you could feel your pitch rise in that shrill, the one that meant you we teetering on a fight.

lip cringed at the sound, hovering over you so the guys couldn't see your upset expression. "you know they're gonna bust my fuckin' balls when you do shit like this. they're-they're gonna fuck with me all day about this."

"about me bringing you your lunch?" your throat burned with an all too familiar heat that meant you were close to crying- to spilling right over.

lip could see it, see it in your eyes, in the wobble of your lips. he sucked in a breath, nerves shot and itching for a cigarette desperately. "baby," though the endearment was spoken with more of a grit to it than the normal coo. "i told you to text me and i'd come to the car-"

"-why are you mad at me right now?" you squeaked, voice bubbling up with a cry. "i just brought you your lunch, lip." then the tears come. the big tears that flood your water line before rolling down your cheeks, always making lip's heart break- even more so now because he was the asshole who made you cry.

The kitchen smelled lovely - fish heads poaching on the stove, a fragrant waft of cheese from the board Gale was filling up beside it. Tara settled contentedly into her preferred chair. Her eyes had just fluttered closed for a delicious pre-dinner nap when Gale's mumbled song resolved into words.

He had come to set a dish on the table, and she could hear little snatches of lyrics. A bit rude when she was clearly trying to sleep, but oh well.

"Little laaady, tressym mine,

Fluffy feathers, eyes that shiiiine,

Flies and purrs and casts a spell,

Snores at night but hides it well..."

Tara's eyes flew open. Gale had returned to the stove, now singing loudly and confidently, though as before his tone wandered in and out of tuneful.

"Little lady Taaaaaraaaa..."

"Mr. Dekarios!"

Gale spun, looking faintly guilty. "Yes?"

"Show some respect! Why, I'm considering breaking the household ban on Fireball. What a song!"

"But you are fluffy, Tara, there's no point denying it."

"Snores at night! I never!"

"It's quite a melodious snore, really. There's a bit of a fluting sound to it."

"Oh! No respect whatsoever!"

Gale grinned, then ducked his head in apology. "I'm sorry. I'll find more appropriate lyrics next time."

Tara said nothing, instead turning in her chair to show him her back. Next time. Pfft.

"I'll find more appropriate lyrics and I'll add crab to the pate. Will that please you, Lady Tara?"

the party was loud, too loud. 

some kid from Lip’s econ class had a place to himself for the weekend and thought throwing a half assed kegger would impress everyone. 

it didn’t. it just made the house smell like stale beer and regret. 

you were standing by the back door, arms crossed and regretting the ride over. you didn’t know many people here, and the ones you did, Lip’s so called friends, had spent the last ten minutes making jokes that weren’t even trying to be funny. 

one of them, some douche with a popped collar and the confidence of a guy who peaked in sophomore year, had muttered something crass in your direction when Lip turned to grab a beer. 

you didn’t say anything, you didn’t have anything to say. 

the look on your face said it all. 

“Jesus Christ” 

Lip muttered when he returned, catching the tail end of your expression and the smug look on his buddy’s face. 

the guy laughed, raising his hands like he was innocent. 

“what? just joking”

Lip rolled his eyes, clearly irritated.

“yeah well, maybe don’t”

you didn’t wait for more. you stepped out onto the porch, letting the door bang shut behind you. 

the air was cold, but at least it was quiet. 

moments later, Lip followed, his steps slower now. he pulled out a cigarette and leaned next to you, his shoulder barely brushing yours. 

“my friends an ass, i’m sorry”

you glanced to Lip as he lit his cigarette, exhaling like it wasn’t obvious. 

it was quiet for a second, the subtle buzz of the city in the distance while you stared at the sky. 

“you always hang out with people like that?”

he hesitated, then gave a half laugh. 

“only when i’m trying to remember why i stopped”

after a minute, you finally turned to him, arms crossed over your chest. 

his eyes flickered down your body for a brief moment before he met your eyes again, flashing you an apologetic look as you spoke. 

“you gonna let him talk to me like that again?”

he immediately shook his head, looking you dead in the eyes. 

“no i swear, he’s not worth it. i’ll deal with him”

you searched his face, trying to figure out if he actually meant that, if he really saw what just happened or if he was just trying to smooth things over. 

but then he was speaking again, voice softer this time. 

“you deserve better than that, and better than me bringing you around idiots who don’t know how to shut up”

you almost smiled. almost. 

“maybe next time we skin the parties”

you said bumping your shoulder lightly against his. 

“just you, me and no assholes”

Lip grinned, taking a slow drag of the cigarette and offering it to you.

“deal”

“So… uh… I can explain…” you stammered. Two more kitten-blobs waddled over to see what their sibling was doing; one climbing onto Hermes' foot and taking a nibble of his sandal strap.

“There are infants in your home…” The god stated, eloquently.

Finally, a cream and brown tortoiseshell cat wandered out, two more babies in tow, and she sat right at Hermes' feet to stare up at him. You moved forward, ready to grab any kittens that decided to continue exploring the room.

“Well, uh, you see - I heard them squeaking last night as I was coming home. They were under my car, ya’know, because it's warm, and I couldn't just leave them in the mall parking lot! So, I ran in really quick and grabbed a box from the back that hadn't been broken down yet and a blanket from my trunk - you should always have a blanket in your car in case you break down - and the mama cat didn't even need to be persuaded! She hopped right in and I piled up her babies and I had to look for the nearest vet because obviously I've never needed one before!” Your rambling was cut off by Hermes pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Breathe, darling,” he giggled. He bent down and gave the mother cat a soft scratch between her ears, eliciting a low purr. All five kittens now huddled at his feet, playing with each other and the god’s cloak.

You smiled, “yeah. Anyway, the vet said they were all healthy. They had probably been dumped that morning, and of course the mother wasn't chipped. But the shelter in the area was full, and I didn't want them to just be left outside, so I volunteered to foster them for a week or so until they can get a better placement.”

You sat down on the floor and the kittens waddled over to you, mewing and squeaking some more. The mother, content that her babies were with a competent guardian, licked your hand and wandered back into your bedroom to retrieve her food.

“I made a little corral for them but the mom kept escaping and taking her babies into my bedroom, so I just kinda let them waddle around in there. She must have escaped again…” you said, carefully picking up a kitten.

Hermes smiled softly, “ah, a fellow artist.” He carefully moved the kittens off of his feet and walked back into the living room area, beginning to fiddle with something.

By the time you had all five kittens and mother back in their makeshift pen, Hermes was walking in behind you and taking them back out.

“Hey! They're supposed to be close together! I don't want them to make a huge mess of my apartment…” you said, following him.

There, in front of the tv, was a proper little corral, complete with a new blanket he had summoned from somewhere. It was built with a sturdy-looking baby gate, and there were plush pillows and even a heating pad and scratching board in the middle.

You stared.

“Where did you get a baby gate in two minutes?”

“One minute, fifteen seconds.” He mumbled under his breath, and then shrugged. “I had one in my bag.” He placed the last kitten in the new corral, and you decided not to ask further…

“What are you going to do about work?” Hermes asked. You frowned, trailing a hand around the edge of the pen and watching a kitten waddle after it.

“I asked for the week off. I can use some PTO hours I've been saving. My manager wasn't thrilled but didn't complain since I got the days covered.”

You felt Hermes lean against you, warm and solid, and he put his head on your shoulder.

“Did you pick a name for any of them?” He asked softly. You blushed, looking away.

“Ah, well. I don't want to get too attached, and the kittens are still too little to do much. I didn't know what to call the mother cat, and the vet suggested a name but at the time I was only half paying attention.”

“What did they suggest?” He asked, leaning more into your space with his stupid mischievous grin. You blushed harder.

“W-well, they thought a cute name would be Molly…”

At the sound of her ‘name’, the mother cat chirped and looked up.

Hermes snorted, breaking into a giggle. “Wait, that's hilarious!”

You batted at him teasingly, smiling yourself. “It's a total coincidence!! I didn't even realize it until I got home and said it out loud!” you insisted.

“Oh, suuuure! I'll be sure to keep that in mind!” he laughed. “I can't wait to tell Circe some of her moly escaped!”

The kittens began to waddle over to investigate the commotion while Molly-the-cat kneaded the pillows, making herself comfortable in the new bedding.

“Whatever!” You said, still smiling, “Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?” Hermes stuck out his tongue at you.

“What, I can't come visit my partner?”

In a quick bid of mischief, you pinched his nose, making him squeak. “Sure, you can visit whenever you want, but I didn't think you were able to stay tonight.” You said.

“Well, now I've found out my partner has infants to take care of! So, I'm going to be a good boyfriend and help them!” He retorted.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, and leaning over to kiss him. “Well, thank you, I guess.” You teased.

The rest of the evening was easy; you and Hermes sat on the couch and could both watch TV and watch the kittens at the same time. They were so tiny and squirmy; you remembered seeing some post a long time ago about the name bumper-car kittens for the stage when the babies were round and unsteady on their feet, and walked with their tiny tails straight up to help them balance. Their mother, meanwhile, seemed happy simply to watch them; occasionally she would nab one and give it a thorough washing, but otherwise she lay there enjoying the warm pillows and heating pad.

-----

You must have dozed off about midnight, leaning against Hermes, because suddenly your alarm was going off and you found yourself in bed, still in the tee shirt and sweatpants from the day previous.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the sight just outside your door.

“Help…” Hermes, laying flat on the floor. One kitten curled up on his chest, close to his shoulder. Two kittens cuddled on his stomach. One kitten trying valiantly to fight the wing on the left side of his head. And Molly with her last kitten tucked close to his side, almost near his armpit.

You did not help, instead giggling and taking many photos of the god who had apparently been bested by a family of felines. The kitten playing with his wing toppled over when it tried to jump and swipe it at the same time, and you carefully picked it up, adding it to the cuddle pile with the other two on his stomach.

He gave you a big pout, widening his eyes and silently begging for rescue. “You're just gonna leave me here?” He asked with a whine.

“Are you kidding? Those things are vicious! I'm not coming within ten feet!” You giggled, stepping carefully over him and heading to the kitchen.

“They ambushed meee!” Hermes whined again, and you laughed.

“Oh, yes, I'm sure! They sure look formidable! What did they do, cry until you laid down?”

You heard a mumble from the living room as you put some pop tarts in the toaster.

“What was that?” You called.

“One climbed up my pant leg when I tried to feed Molly…” he said, slightly louder.

“Uh-huh. And how did that lead to your current situation?” You asked. You could imagine him blushing now, and pulling his wings to cover his eyes like he did when he was feeling bashful. The pop tarts popped out of the toaster, and you carefully set them on a plate. The pair of you could share.

Perhaps…

Stepping carefully back into your living room, you set the pop tarts where the kittens couldn't easily get to them (and hopefully Molly would leave them alone…) and sat next to Hermes' head. None of the kittens even bothered to look at you, too happy to be napping on their oversized heater. Hermes made another face.

“No, really, how did this happen?” You asked again, giggling. You reached and carefully broke off a small chunk of pop tart, waving it in the god's face.

He frowned, trying to lift his head enough to reach the treat before letting it flop back down with a huff.

“Mean to me,” he mumbled; “I told you, the little all white one started climbing my leg.”

“Uh-huh,” you smiled wider, “And?”

“I didn't want her to fall, obviously, so I picked her up and set her on my shoulder for a minute while I went to get cat food, and then she put her little paws in my feathers and it startled me. And then Molly chirped at me like ‘if you hurt my baby’ and hopped out of the gate. And then all of the kittens started crying, and Molly stared at me like ‘see what you did?’ even though it totally wasn't my fault!

So, I was like fine, you little furball and I brought all the babies out and sat down with them on my lap, but then they started climbing to attack my feathers!!” he rambled through his totally accurate and believable story. You snorted, feeding him the chunk of pop tart.

“Uh-huh. Sure, love. Whatever you say.” You giggled while he stuck his tongue out at you.

The pair of you sat like that for almost an hour - him on the floor with a cuddle pile of kittens on his stomach, you feeding him chunks of pop tart in between bites of your own. It was nice. Quiet.

At some point, you also laid on the floor, taking a few kittens to lay on your chest. They squeaked in protest only a moment before settling right back to sleep, and Molly purred loudly between you and Hermes. There was a soft haze to the day; a sleepy day off. You had soft blankets and pillows, soft sleepy kittens, and a soft silly boyfriend to snuggle up to. You and Hermes chatted quietly about his work this week, where all he had to go and why. You rambled about customers at work and the book you had been reading in your downtime.

About noon, the kittens decided their nap was complete, and they waddled around Hermes' torso, looking for a way to get back down from such a great height. The god tried very valiantly not to squirm, but it was clear the tiny paws wandering his abdomen were hitting every ticklish spot he had. The wings on his head flapped once or twice, and suddenly Molly was there, sitting just next to him and sniffing in his hair.

You quickly moved to grab the kittens and put them back in their pen, much to their displeasure if the squeaking and mewing was an indicator; and you watched, as if in slow motion, as Molly carefully lifted a single paw and brought it right back down on Hermes' forehead with a thwap. The god looked stunned, staring at the cat in confusion. You giggled to yourself, wishing you had that on video.

Molly raised a paw to do it again, Hermes still making no move to stop her, and you swooped in and gently lifted the cat away. Thankfully, she wasn't upset, apparently, but she did make her own sound of confusion at where the floor had suddenly gone. You gently cradled her in your arms, realizing now just how warm and solid she was. After a few moments of confusion, she settled, rubbing her face against the underside of your chin and purring loudly. You hummed, cuddling the cat, waiting for Hermes to stand up.

He didn't stand up.

You turned around, and found your boyfriend now staring at you. His typically silver eyes had the faintest tinge of green. You giggled.

“Is someone envious?” You teased, nudging him with your foot.

He looked away, “nooo…”  You could almost hear him blushing. You laughed a little harder, carefully settling Molly into the pen and watching as she gathered her kittens for lunch.

“Oh, no? Not even a little bit?” You pressed, crouching down next to him and poking his side.

Without answering, and faster than a blink, you found yourself laying on top of Hermes (while still on the floor!) with his arms around you.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” he said, though it was muffled from his face being tucked into your shoulder.

“Oh suuuure,” you teased, carefully threading your hands into his hair. You gently moved his head, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Are we feeling a little un-cuddled then?”

He squirmed, and rolled so you were both side-by-side now. “Maaaaaaybe” he drawled. You smiled.

“Well, then, I’ll have to fix that.” He rubbed his nose against yours, now smiling.

“Mm’kay,” he hummed. You wiggled free of his arms and the pair of you moved to the much more comfortable couch; Hermes waved his hand and the tv blinked to life.

The next morning, you would receive a call from the vet office, saying they had found a foster for your little fuzzy family. You were sad to see them go, but happy to know they would all be well taken care of.

And a month or so from now, if a familiar cream and brown cat and small horde of kittens showed up in a selfie of Hermes while he visited his friend Circe, it would just have to bring a smile to your face.

Michel is handsome. Blue eyes like— Varric once called it ‘mystical blue flames’ in Volume Three of Swords and Shields, and surely it fits. They are— unique in their intensity. His yellow hair reminds her of fields of August wheat she and Anthony once roved, an absurd thought she elbows aside. He is impeccable, and that is to be admired, is it not?

He lifts his gaze to hers.

“Lady Cassandra,” he greets her, almost in expectation of her arrival.

When Cullen had asked her to liaise with the Chevaliers Gaspard sent to Skyhold, saying something about ‘the utility of her noble lineage in dealing with these stuffed-shirts’, she had reluctantly agreed. They quickly proved to be arrogant and intractable, a small army of sharp blades dulled by pride, and every attempt to goad them into becoming more useful was rebuffed by Gaspard, who hangs around Skyhold in wait of his future bride, the Inquisitor, and is widely considered to be a supercilious menace.

It was Ser Michel who offered her sanity.

“You only scowl like that if you’ve seen Ducet recently,” he observes lightly. Cassandra collects an offering of tea from the barmaid as she fights a smile.

“You may be right this time, but I am told this is just my face.”

“I can assure you, you have more than one face,” he says. “At least five by my count.”

Cassandra reminds herself that it is a Champion’s duty to be observant.

“I brought him a collection of complaints from Inquisition units. Ducet was unmoved by them.”

“I expect it was something akin to an avalanche meeting a very stout boulder,” he chuckles. Cassandra’s eyes flash with agreement. Michel leans back in his chair, meeting her eyes with self-assured candor. “I have known him a long time. He is an honorable man, but governed by the same elitist thinking as the rest.”

“You are not afflicted with the same pride,” she notes. A faint wash of blood appears in his cheeks.

“Believe me, I was. But mistakes have humbled me, have laid bare the iniquity of my earlier outlook.” Michel strums a thumb over the corner of his book, and then squares it to the edge of the table. Always careful. Always methodical. “The Chevaliers may have been promised to the Inquisition, but without a firm directive from Gaspard, they will be difficult to bring to heel.” Cassandra snorts.

“Gaspard will use them to extract favors from the Inquisitor.”

“I believe he enjoys her disapproval,” answers Michel easily. There’s a truth to it that Cassandra hadn’t wanted to articulate out of respect for her friend, Lady Trevelyan. Those mystical eyes rise to hers, sharp and soft as snow. “A fierce woman can be quite fetching.”

Cassandra’s blood quickens. The kitchen must have acquired a stronger variety of tea.

Read the rest here!

Tag list! 😘

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