Nasir (noturlittleman) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-07-10 23:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, maxwell trevelyan (the inquisitor), nasir |
Who: Nasir and Max
What: Dreams have excellent timing
When: 7/10, early morning
Where: Max's house
Warnings: Brief memories of sexual slavery
Status: Complete when posted
It had been, put simply, a very trying few days. With the demons and other assorted creatures, the Breech, and everything that happened with it. Max… All Nasir wanted to do was sleep for a week or two.
But that wasn’t happening, because the Dreams decided to show up, as if they hadn’t already done enough lately. Last night it had been Agron telling him that he was to be left behind - or, well, that he was to survive and Agron was sending himself to die with Crixus, which felt about the same; Nasir wanted a warrior’s death, to die glorious in battle with his lover by his side, not to run like a coward to the mountains. He knew nothing of freedom, and without Agron, the idea of it tasted like ash in his mouth.
Tonight was even worse. Naevia returned, nothing but despair and Crixus’ head in tow, and news of Agron’s capture. It was a guaranteed death sentence, and Nasir knew it. Logically, he also knew that Agron survived, or at least survived long enough to be crucified, because the man himself had said so. But it still felt horrible, churning violently in his gut, the sadness wanting to crawl out of his throat the second he jolted awake. His eyes were already burning, and Nasir fought back the tears. Not now. Not where Max could hear. He had plenty of his own shit to deal with right now what with the whole disappearing arm thing. Breaking down because the Dreams had shown him something that didn’t even hurt him (physically, anyway), that didn’t affect him in the waking world in any way...it just seemed ridiculous in the face of everything.
That thought didn’t stop the tears, only made him feel even more upset. So he managed to crawl out of bed (although getting away from Max’s clinging was difficult. Any other time he didn’t mind, actually kind of enjoyed it. Right now, it was less than ideal), closed the bedroom door, and padded quietly through the house to find the point farthest from their bedroom. The whole time, his chest hitched with quiet sobs, even though he kept telling himself not yet.
The kitchen seemed like a safe bet. Away from the bedroom, and with the added benefit of a coffee pot, because he was not going back to sleep tonight. He knew he should since he was still recovering from a week of fighting demons - it would take more than a couple of regen potions to bounce back from something like that - but the idea of sleeping, of finding out what happened next...he just couldn’t do it. So. Breakdown, coffee - plan in place. And with that thought, the tears spilled over, and Nasir buried his face in his hands to muffle himself.
Unfortunately for Nasir, Max hadn’t exactly been sleeping soundly. He didn’t at all, not since the Breach, not since waking up to demons. Especially not since he essentially passed out after closing the tear in the Veil, his left arm and the magic contained within the palm spreading and sparking wildly out of control, glowing with a power he wasn’t meant to wield. Solas had done him a favor, by saving his life - the result, arm amputation, was what he was dreading in this world too.
He hated the way he looked, hated the way he had to ask for help to do the simplest things like button his shirt, hated that even the most mundane of tasks were now difficult. Hated that he could barely even walk straight in the morning, everything out of sorts from coming out of sleep - balance and bodily coordination were severely impaired anyway, with a limb missing. He stumbled a little when he got out of bed, his right hand quickly resting against the bedside table to correct himself before he fell over and cracked his skull.
Falling was happening a lot these days too, as much as he hated that as well. But he made an appointment with the doctor who had worked with Hawke’s friend for his hand prosthetic, and was due to go in for a consultation next week. So maybe he could get used to something metal and awkward, and get some semblance of his life back.
But he knew something was wrong - as much as he liked to be close when falling asleep, during the night he and Nasir would both toss and turn; Max tried not to be a Clinger Stage 5 either, but he just sensed when he was alone and it was too early to get up. The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon yet.
The sleeve of the shirt he was wearing hung limply where there was no forearm extension to fill it out on the left side, and it had taken him far longer than he liked to get into the sweatpants - so there was no changing, not right now. He just went into the kitchen, surprised to find his boyfriend having something of a quiet breakdown over the coffee pot.
“What happened?” he asked, coming to stand beside Nasir and put his good hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Bad dream?”
Nasir jumped in surprise, fear rushing through him - someone had snuck up behind him while he was distracted, which was something he generally avoided letting himself be because no matter how much time passed or therapy he got, that would always scare the absolute fuck out of him. It had happened often, especially when he’d first been a slave, his master coming up behind him and grabbing him. He turned on his would-be attacker, fists already raised to fight - because he could fight now - but...right. He was safe. It was just Max, who wasn’t going to hurt him, who would never hurt him. Who shouldn’t be out of bed, because he was supposed to be resting, because he had been through some serious trauma and he needed to recover.
Wiping his eyes and covering his face to take a few deep - if faltering - breaths, Nasir finally looked at Max and tried at a smile. Even he knew he didn’t quite make it. Bad dream was close enough to what had happened, and he had no shortage of them, so it was a safe excuse.
“Yeah, bad dream, but I’m okay.” No he wasn’t, but hopefully Max wouldn’t call his bluff. “Didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed. Come on, I’ll help you upstairs.” Because his balance was off and Nasir would really rather he didn’t take a header down the stairs, just as a personal preference. He didn’t mind helping Max at all, especially if it would keep him from getting hurt, but even doing the little things eased his mind a little.
“I’m fine, really.” Rather than go back upstairs, Max shuffled to the kitchen table and sat there instead. He held out his hand, reaching for Nasir, beckoning closer a little - of course Trevelyan didn’t believe he was truly okay, and the fact that he wasn't made sense. It had been a lot, everything that went on, not to mention Nasir was probably still tired and sore from a straight week of demon battle royale - dreams on top of it all, well, it could just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Those chestnut eyes of Max’s were warm, but worried; he didn't have the power to make everything better with a snap of his fingers but he could listen, and maybe things were rough right now for them both but they’d make it - together.
“Tell me what happened? I think we’ve had enough of my dream drama. Yours, let’s focus on yours to even things up a little.”
Well, at least he was sitting. That was something. Nasir still got him a glass of water before busying himself with making a pot of coffee. It didn’t take long, and so, with nothing else to do, he gave in and went to Max. He wanted to crawl into his lap and be comforted but kitchen chairs weren’t exactly ideal for that, so he settled for taking Max’s hand and squeezing.
“It’s nothing, I’m just being stupid,” he started, but he knew that wouldn’t be good enough for Max. “Agron left me behind to go fight the legions. It just…” Hurt, a lot, which he knew was ridiculous and he had no reason to be as upset by it as he did. But the pain was so sharp in the dreams, like a knife to the chest (which, he had a good idea of how that felt). The Nasir in Rome was so sure that Agron was going to die and wasn’t allowing Nasir to follow him, and no matter Agron’s reassurances it felt like a blow - Agron didn’t trust him, Agron didn’t believe in him, Agron didn’t love him. The feeling carried over. His eyes prickled with tears again and he sniffed, wiping at them in frustration. “Goddammit!” he growled, bowing his head and covering his eyes.
Nasir had been more understanding than Max believed he deserved, when it came to sorting through the sticky quagmire of the emotions and feelings these memories stirred up. The least Trevelyan could do was return the favor - if anything, he probably realized how complicated things could be, how they could carry over, better than most.
“We do stupid things sometimes, when we’re in love, and we think we’re protecting that other person,” he said, reaching up to get Nasir’s hands away from his eyes - and Max gently wiped underneath with his shirt sleeve. “You’ll see him again, I’m certain. I know you’re probably afraid it is but it’s not the end.”
He remembered wanting to throttle Dorian for his decision to return to Tevinter without his lover - because he needed to make waves and inspire change in the Magisterium on his own, without the influence and shadow of the Inquisitor, but worrying from a distance - that any day he could be assassinated for those calls for reform - was downright torture, when your partner was away from you (and swimming with bloodthirsty sharks). So Max knew about that sort of ache, he did.
Max deserved his understanding, 100%, and Nasir would fight him on that. He was understanding about everything to do with Nasir - and there was plenty that would send most people running. It was only fair that he be there for Max.
“He’s one of the stupider,” Nasir grumbled, letting Max wipe away his tears. He still felt ridiculous. They were just dreams - and he knew, logically, that they were more than that (see also: fighting demons for a week, Max losing his arm, Nasir himself waking up with scars of his own), but he wasn’t physically hurt right now. He hadn’t actually lost anything. He was just experiencing emotions that weren’t even his. And compared to what Max had lost, that was nothing. “I know he isn’t dead yet, I know he survives for a little while, at least. But it’s hard to imagine him returning. Rome is ruthless and they want us dead.” He clenched his jaw against the fresh wave of emotion that brought up. “I wanted to die with him,” he said in a small voice. “I don’t know what it’s like to be free, and I don’t want to know without him. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“No,” Max chuckled without mirth, his hand framing Nasir’s face, thumb stroking the cheekbone. “Freedom is something you deserve, and what you both are fighting for. Don’t give up on the idea entirely, you could still find it. Your dreams aren’t over yet.”
He hoped that Nasir found peace, both there and here. Trevelyan’s own story had finished for the time being, and maybe Hawke was right, maybe there was more. But he felt the curtain falling for now, and the end had been bittersweet. That had been something he’d accepted though - there seemed little point in lamenting that when he had someone to love here, and a life still meant to be written and experienced.
“And don’t hold it in either. You can talk to me, you know. I lost an arm, I’m not in a coma,” he smiled wryly.
It was true - the story wasn’t quite finished yet. There was still more, the slaves still had to make it to the mountains safely, just now with several of their number missing. But it no longer felt worth it, in a way. “At least the hot pirate’s still around,” Nasir said, smile a little more genuine this time.
It was easy for Max to say, but Nasir still couldn’t help but feel selfish. He leaned down to wrap his arms around Max’s shoulders. “You’re also not dead, that’s a definite plus. I’d still rather you got your rest, though. I’m up for the rest of the night, you can go back to sleep now.”
“What is it with you and pirates - am I going to have to worry about you leaving me to swab someone’s deck?” Max wanted to know, teasingly, grasping Nasir’s shoulder and closing the distance between them to steal a kiss or two. If he had to pull the words from his partner’s mouth sometimes, he would do that - but he wanted Nasir to be able to talk to him about pretty much anything, and vice versa. Bottling everything up wasn’t healthy, and if that happened it’d spill over and end up affecting their relationship anyway along with other aspects of life - so better to just get it all out in the open.
He braced his hand on the edge of the table and stood - without falling that time, hey, something to celebrate. “Couch, maybe? Come sit with me.” Going back up the stairs, when he was this tired, seemed precarious even disregarding the lack of arm - if he fell asleep in the living room, so be it. “There’s something I wanted to ask you anyway.”
Though he at least drank all the water in that glass. He felt parched now, for some reason, maybe nerves.
“Only the one pirate, because he is a really hot pirate. I’m sorry your dreams don’t have him.” Nasir smiled into the kisses, feeling...well, not better, because there was still grief clawing at him and it still hurt, but better about the situation. Normally he was happy to talk to Max about whatever was bothering him, and he would keep doing that...at least in a few weeks. When they had time to adjust to everything else.
Something to ask him? Well now he was curious. “Sure, I can do that. Just let me get myself some coffee.”
He also refilled Max’s glass and brought it out to him, a mug in his other hand. He curled up on the couch next to Max, blowing on his coffee to cool it before he took a sip. “Everything okay?”
Well, his dreams had Isabela, the hottest pirate - but despite her penchant for group sex there, in a whole other reality here she’d actually settled and gotten married. Probably didn’t change anything or inhibit her freedom, but just goes to show that you could do things differently in this life - if you chose to. Max snorted a light laugh, plopping down on the couch and grabbing a fuzzy, soft blanket from the back of it to drape over them.
“When’s the lease on your apartment up?” he wanted to know. “I thought...if you want. Maybe you could move in? Here?”
The living room was back to normal now, with the pieces from Skyhold actually in the medieval fortress where they belonged. It was a warm and homey place, this renovated Dutch colonial, but it was also astoundingly empty a lot of the time too. When Nasir stayed over that was better. Max just thought it could potentially be more of a permanent thing.
Nasir was pretty sure Castus was hotter - no offense to Isabela, of course, but she wasn’t exactly to his tastes. But Castus didn’t matter, and neither did Agron. He was happy here, with what he had, better than he thought he could have despite a few bumps in the road. He curled up under the blanket next to Max, sipping his coffee and resting his head on Max’s shoulder. It was warm, and comfortable, and everything he wanted.
“End of August,” he told Max. “And two caveats. You still have to love me during finals time no matter what. And you aren’t allowed to judge me and V if we have movie nights because one-star Netflix movies are the tradition.”
“I’m always going to love you,” and Max would, even when Nasir was waist deep in finals stress (Trevelyan did not miss those days), even when life was worse than that too. “And I can help you study - or leave you alone, whichever is preferable. As for the Netflix caveat - “
He paused, as if in some overly dramatic way, resting his cheek on the top of Nasir’s head. A long gust of a sigh escaped him. “ I guess I can hold back on the judging when you’re watching Frankenhooker or whatever awful piece of celluloid Netflix is streaming.” But he was relieved, overall, since asking someone to move in was kind of a big deal - there was always a chance the answer could be ‘hell no, you’re impossible to live with.’
Which...everyone had their quirks but Max didn’t think he was terrible in that regard. “You can also be on spider-killing duty.” Yes, he survived Corypheus, led an Inquisition, saved the world - but was afraid of spiders. He realized it was fucked up.
“Even when I’m covered in pink highlighter and only talk to you to make you bring me coffee? Because it’s going to happen.” Nasir had no doubt, of course, about Max’s love. But it was nice to be reassured, all the same.
“I don’t know what Frankenhooker is but it sounds like comedy gold. The best movies are the really low-budget horror ones that are so horrible they’re funny.” It was still comforting to know, that Max approved. “I’m sure she’d be happy to have you join us if you also promise not to judge us when we’re laughing at someone getting their head cut off. Or we get really into cooking shows.” Because it was going to happen.
Nasir rolled his eyes. “I’m already on spider killing duty. Or did I imagine you waking me up at an ungodly hour to come kill a spider hiding in your bath tub? It’s the price I must pay, I guess. You’re too cute to be entirely perfect.” He leaned up for a kiss.
Kiss received, smack, it was also playfully returned by Max - how sweet of his boyfriend to say; Nasir got a loving bite on the lower lip to top it all off.
“No judgment at your enthusiasm for cooking shows, even if it’s adorable that you googled how to make spaghetti,” he snickered. But he guessed that after a few hundred episodes of Chopped you developed a sophisticated food critiquing skill by proxy.
Now sleep might come swifter than he originally thought. Max was just so exhausted, and trying to get back on a regular schedule with his clients to be the best one-armed therapist he could be; it was probably something of a shock to see, for his non-dreamer patients.
“I’m not going to last much longer. Feel free to put on one-star Netflix gold, I doubt it will wake me up. Since you just drank a pot of coffee.” After what felt like forever with shit sleep, not even bombs would wake him up. The body had to crash sometime.
Okay, the biting wasn’t fair. Because Max was going to end up falling asleep soon, Nasir could tell, and biting did not lead to activities that encouraged sleeping. Max was a cruel man. Not that Nasir minded that too much.
“They don’t cover that part on any cooking show I’ve ever seen. Only what to do when you actually know how to make it.” He shook his head, shoving at Max’s shoulder for laughing at him.
Nasir noticed Max drooping and nodded at his warning. “Here, let’s - “ He moved, shifting them around so that Max was lying down with Nasir resting on his chest, remote in hand. He found a really horrible looking documentary about fish or something and turned it on, content to just sit in the quiet with his sleeping boyfriend and let the day start around them.