Chapter Text
Anders could get used to this. It’s dangerous how easily he could get used to this. He wakes up slowly, comfortable in Rylan’s embrace. They must have turned in the night because Anders does not recall being the little spoon when he fell asleep. Rylan is breathing serenely over Anders’ upper back, hand wrapped around Anders’ waist.
The problem is Anders could get used to this. Easily. But that’s not how things are going to go. Anders has his own bed– his own room. Rylan is surely holding on to Anders in his sleep as a way to prevent him from running away again. Tonight, Anders will let him sleep alone, unbothered. But for now…
Anders indulges. Time passes as he enjoys the quiet sounds of morning, the birds outside the window, lively bugs humming and the soft wind. He floats halfway back to sleep and is determinedly ignoring Rylan stirring awake against him.
Or rather, a specific part of Rylan rising with the day. It’s normal. Totally normal. Anders has morning wood more often than not. He’s never had one platonically pressed against his ass, but new things happen every day.
What is not normal is Anders making a big deal out of it. So he doesn’t. He’s about to move away when Rylan’s grip around him tightens, when he sighs against Anders’ skin.
The full body shudder that goes through Anders is not an indicator of anything lecherous. Absolutely not.
Rylan is quicker to react, pulling his hips away as he fully wakes up. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice raspy from sleep.
Anders has never heard his voice get this kind of edge to it, and his face heats against his will.
“Dreamt of something nice, sleeping beauty?” Anders teases without tilting his face back. He can pretend to have composure.
Rylan untangles them, pushing Anders’ back just enough to make him budge an inch. “Fuck off,” he says with no bite, messing up some of Anders’ hair. “You should have woken me up,” he adds instead of an apology. It fits better.
“Oh, you were getting up just fine,” Anders smirks, unabashed, now that there is space between them and he can think clearly.
Rylan laughs at the poor pun, playfully nudging Anders’ calf. “Get your ass out of my bed then,” he says dryly.
Anders tosses his legs off, but doesn’t fully leave yet. “You sure? You were pretty attached a–”
There’s no additional warning, Rylan curls his knee and kicks Anders off the edge of the bed.
Laughter fills the room, Anders almost giddy with it. It’s been too long since he was able to fuck around like this, carefree.
“Maker,” he sighs when he gets up, jaw almost aching from the laugh. “I should be the one kicking you out of the bed.”
“You missed your chance,” Rylan says, sitting up, hair messy from sleep and eyes soft.
“Did I?” Anders wonders out loud in mock contemplation. With his best reflexes, he reaches to grab at Rylan’s ankles, yanking him to the floor as well.
Occasionally, Rylan looks the way Hero of Ferelden is supposed to be. Today, Anders woke up to Rylan- his friend. It’s easy to forget that they are both powerful mages when they act like school boys. All this to say that Anders miscalculated with his attack, not expecting to immediately be knocked down to the ground, with the Hero of Ferelden straddling him in his underwear, gripping his wrists, looking like he’s ready to take on an archdemon.
Anders’ breath is frozen, lips parted and eyes wide. Following what almost happened this morning it can’t be helped his mind is in the gutter. A vision of Rylan holding him down like this and—
“Round two?” he manages to joke with an eyebrow raised, and somehow this makes Rylan blush this time as he hurriedly flings himself off of Anders.
“Alright alright, enough playing,” Anders huffs as he rises to his feet again . Seeing Rylan flustered might just be his new favourite thing, but he is not without mercy.
Rylan doesn’t meet his eyes, standing a foot away.
Anders reaches to his pants. “Even though your dick started it,” he mutters, taking the jab to his ribs with pride. “I’m done– I’m done, I promise,” he says with a grin, holding his hands up in surrender.
—
They make it out of the room shortly after without further incidents. If Anders has to bite his tongue once or twice, Rylan doesn’t comment on it.
Rylan turns on the TV, and the news broadcast becomes their background noise while making breakfast. Or rather, while Rylan is making breakfast. Anders watches him cooking pancakes expertly, while helping him with ingredients and then organising the kitchen.
It doesn’t take long for Anders to run out of things to do. He follows Rylan frying the pancakes, losing himself in thought. “When are you going back to work?” he asks after a moment, when it comes to him. Amell cannot put his life on hold just to babysit Anders.
“I am technically never off the clock.” This much Anders remembered. Rylan is not a regular Warden after all. “I’ve got some emails to work on for today, but I’ll be heading to Soldier's Peak a few times a week.”
“What am I supposed to do all day?” Anders hasn’t had this much free time in… Years.
Rylan leans on the counter, eyebrow raised. “You mean to tell me you didn’t dream of becoming a countryside housewife?”
Anders pouts dramatically, considering smacking Rylan with a towel. “Merging with a spirit of Justice changed my priorities.”
“Don’t bring Justice into this. He would make a splendid housewife. I remember having him watch over me when I slept only to offer coffee in the morning.”
“You mean, when he was possessing a corpse?” Anders snorts. “I don’t see the appeal.”
Rylan shrugs. “I’m a necromancer.” He flips the pancake.
Anders almost chokes laughing at that. He’s wiping tears away from the corners of his eyes when the news anchor starts talking about Kirkwall. About him.
“Civilians are still being asked to stir away from the area. However, a memorial is already being set up, with funds allocated to the immediate rebuilding of the Chantry. The assailant has been identified as Anders, a dangerous Fereldan fugitive–” Rylan chuckles at the description, cooking as he listens. “Whereabouts currently unknown. Riots have been sparked at the Kinloch Hold as well as Ostwick Circle. Kirkwall’s peaceful protest for mage rights last night has turned violent, resulting in multiple arrests and—”
“It had to be big to have an impact,” Rylan tells him.
It snaps Anders out of his internal spiral. Did it show on his face? The guilt and the fervour?
“It was necessary, but I still hate that it came to it. I wish they listened.”
“They never do. Not until you make them listen.”
Anders tunes into the news again. “And now, for the weather. Over to you Jules–”
“Alright dangerous Fereldan fugitive ,” Rylan starts, pressing the remote to turn the TV off. “Breakfast is ready.”