WHO: Max and Nasir WHAT: There comes a point in your life where you have to do things you don’t want to; or, meeting the parents WHERE: Nasir’s parents house WHEN: 8/21 WARNINGS: TBA
There were a lot of things Nasir could do. He could fight, he could defend himself and those he loved. He could do some things that were less savory. And he’d learned that he could love, that he could work towards being whole again, that he didn’t have to be scared and miserable all the time. But right now, he could not get out of this car.
It wasn’t that he was trapped, exactly, the door was unlocked and Max was waiting outside. But he couldn’t make himself lift his hand and open the door, stand up, and walk up to the house. They’d parked on the street a few houses down from the little blue house that, at least according to his best 2am-desperate Googling abilities, was where his parents lived. It was nice, much nicer than anywhere they’d ever lived before. It was nice to know that they were living well at least, and he considered contenting himself with that knowledge and going home and forgetting all about this. But they were already here, and he had to admit, he wanted to see them.
Just. Had to get out of the car first. And that was still proving difficult considering he was frozen in terror. Give him an opponent twice his size in the ring, he could do that. Give him the Roman legions, no problem. Give him his mother, and he was utterly incapacitated. And he was aware that it had been more on the uncomfortable side of too long but he was stuck, staring at the house.
Max had looked for awhile, to find a really good recipe for the right cake - he settled on one that was a double dose, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, no sub-par Hershey’s involved but instead Belgian chocolate. With a touch of coffee to make it just that little bit more dark, rich, and decadent. He’d needed help making it since it was awkward to stir with a prosthetic hand, but Nasir was good for that part - and for licking the spoon. They’d stopped and gotten a dozen roses on the way too, some lavender and pink and yellow, because Trevelyan had paid attention (Nasir’s mother liked roses, both parents seemed to be into chocolate anything) and he wanted to bring something nice. He’d been raised with manners, even if his parents couldn’t exactly take all the credit for raising him anyway.
And he knew Nasir would be nervous, he might tense up, that Max might have to physically drag him to the door - oh, he was prepared. This was a big deal. Nasir hadn’t seen his parents in years - they thought he was dead, likely. They’d mourned. And it’d be a shock to find out that they would all, in fact, get a second chance.
Setting the cake carrier and bouquet of roses on the roof of the car, he in his crisp dress shirt and pressed slacks opened the driver’s side door and scooted back in next to the frozen hunk of mass that was his muscled better half. “It’s going to be alright, you know,” he said, leaning in for a kiss and to give an affectionate, big-kitty headbutt. “I’m here and you’re here, you can do this - we’ll do it together, hmm?”
Nasir untensed, just a little, when Max got into the car. For a second he had the wild thought of telling him to turn it on and just take him home, to forget about this. There was no need to put them through meeting him again, of dealing with him now that he was broken (less so than he had been when he’d first been released, barely knowing how to be a human, but still fractured).
But it passed. He nodded at Max, taking a deep breath and turning to kiss him again. It wasn’t much but it was the most he’d moved in a while, since they’d gotten into the car, at least. “Help me out?” he asked, because he still couldn’t convince himself to open his door, much less get out of the car and walk to the house. Baby steps, and easier if someone was holding his hand. Probably literally because he wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t going to bolt.
“‘Got your back,” Max promised, returning that kiss - and he’d told Nasir that awhile ago, hadn’t he? Trevelyan had his back, for all things, for everything - whatever support he needed, through all the nightmares from both their dreamworlds and loss and demons, yes, Max would be there. “And I love you. You have to carry the cake though,” a husky chuckle then, as he exited the car and went around to open the door.
The fingers of the cool metallic hand flexed and curled, traveling impulses at work to get those fingers to move and wrap around the bouquet of roses for carrying. With his good hand, he reached for one of Nasir’s and squeezed fondly. “Not a long walk. Two steps and we’re there.”
Maybe a few more, but it wasn’t the Green Mile. He trusted Nasir not to bolt, anyway.
Nasir nodded, waiting for Max to come pull him out of the car - quite literally, he didn’t quite ragdoll on him but it was a near thing, just because his knees felt so weak and he couldn’t make his muscles work. But he got upright, he was standing, he picked up the cake. Max held his hand. Just take it in steps, he could do that. He laced his fingers through Max’s and squeezed.
Okay. Okay, he could do this. He could do this. Just put one foot in front of the other. Slowly, but going. He got up to the path leading to the house like that, mindless and a little mechanical, focusing more on moving his feet than on where they were taking him to. But he couldn’t make the turn, couldn’t force himself any further. And he couldn’t look at Max either as he said, in a very quiet and defeated and so fucking frustrated voice, “I can’t do this, can we just go home?”
“Yes, you can. You can do this, Nasir. You can do most anything,” Max insisted, firm yet patient, and he didn’t let go of the hand he was holding - in fact, he figuratively dug his heels in and physically took a couple more steps to the front door. And if Nasir didn’t move, and if their arms were stretched as far as possible with Max continuing to hold on, hands linked, he still wouldn’t let go - instead, he’d simply wait for those feet to take the final steps. Might look weird to the neighbors, but whatever. They’d get up to the ‘ringing the bell’ part no matter what.
Because they’d come this far, why not go all the way. “You’re going to get up there, knock, and then I’m going to block any quick exit so don’t get any ideas,” he smiled a bit, encouragingly. He’d also take the cake too, so Nasir would have two hands free to no doubt hug his completely bowled over parents - it’d be a beautiful reunion, he was sure.
Nasir was surprised by the sudden movement and stumbled a few steps before pulling them up short again. He couldn’t be out-stubborned, he was pretty sure, but Max did give him a run for his money. For a tense moment they were at an impasse, staring at each other, both refusing to give.
But, very slowly, Nasir crept in close to him again and tucked against his side, fitting his head under his chin. Just let himself be held for a moment. That’s all he needed.
A phone rang from inside the house, shrill but distant, and Nasir chuckled. “Ten bucks that’s a neighbor calling to tell them about the two weirdos cuddling on their front walk. We’ve got about a minute to get up there before we get yelled at.” Or they could run, that was an option, but Max still had a pretty firm hold on him so he doubted that would happen, and he’d really prefer to do this on his own terms and not with one of his parents shouting at him to get off their property. So he pulled Max up the sidewalk and rang the bell.
Inside his father was on the phone with someone, saying that there’d just been a knock and he’d let them know who it was, but thanks for the warning; there were quick footsteps coming towards the door - his mother, she walked softer than his dad had, much lighter on her feet than any of them had been before Nasir started training. He had just enough time to take a deep, steadying breath before the door was cracked open and his mother peered out.
And then screamed.
And then started crying.
Shit.
His father appeared behind her, face all thunder and wrath and ready to fight - it was easy to see where Nasir got it from, looking at that expression. But it softened to shock very quickly and then suspicion, and he pushed the door open. He stepped in front of his wife, who was still wailing. Doors up and down the street were opening.
This could be going better. Nasir couldn’t even get himself together enough to introduce himself, to apologize for scaring them, to say hi - anything, really, he was just as frozen as the rest of them. He managed a very panicked glance at Max, a very distinct help, because he was back to not being able to move.
Running was not an option, but thank the Maker that Nasir had actually finished the journey to the front door. And if he tried to make a break for it, Max wasn’t above sacrificing the glory of this chocolate dessert and letting it smash to the ground in an effort to tackle his boyfriend on the lawn and pin him until he agreed to keep going.
That would have surely gotten the police dropping by.
But none of it was necessary; he simply eased the cake (which was meant to be a tool of helping to smooth things over at this point, because chocolate made everything better) into his now-free hand and nudged the frozen-in-time man beside him, urging him to make just one more step forward toward his parents. Everyone seemed to regress in age, a little, when faced with their parents though - it made sense, because this was their baby. Their baby whom they hadn’t seen in far too long.
Max would attempt to apologize, at least. Especially since the whole street seemed to want to witness the spectacle while watching from their own front porches - Andraste’s tits, mind your own business, people. “We’re so sorry, if we worried you or the neighbors,” he said - introductions would come in a moment, probably? This was your cue, Nasir. The wailing woman seemed like she could use a hug.
Nasir breathed for what felt like the first time in a long while, maybe a little too loudly but seriously, he’d kind of forgotten to. He meant to say something smart, or start explaining or something, or maybe just ask if they could move this into the house, but instead he just mumbled, “Hi, Dad,” and all but collapsed against him, shaking but not quite crying yet.
His father had been momentarily distracted by Max’s words but his son falling into him seemed to spur him into action, and after looking around he quickly pulled them all inside. Nasir’s mother grabbed him then, in turns clutching him against her and running her hands over his face, his hair, his shoulders - checking on him, or making sure he was real, he wasn’t sure - and all the while still crying and cooing at him. Nasir wasn’t much better, trying to grab her hands to hold them to make sure that she was there too. They were both a mess.
His father managed to herd them to the living room - small, but cozy, stuffed with knick knacks and the things that people tended to collect over the years (and if Nasir had any kind of presence of mind to notice, some seriously embarrassing pictures he would have panicked about anyone seeing), with a single armchair and a couch. Nasir and his mother collapsed onto the couch, still preoccupied with each other for the moment, but as soon as his father joined them they pulled him in as well, a small huddle of frantic touches and tears and reassurances. Unfortunately that left only the chair for Max, if he wanted it. The parents started babbling.
“You’ve gotten so big - “
“His hair’s so long, look at that, he looks like - “
“He looks perfect - “
“You’ve been eating well, it looks like, remember how skinny you used to be?”
“You’ve been working out though - “
“Is this a bruise?”
“Where were you?”
Nasir chuckled, wetly, letting them pull and prod at him. For a moment he was sixteen again, he’d never left home, everything that had happened to him was a bad dream.
But that wasn’t quite right. Because some good things had happened to him in that time too. And one of those things was in the room with them, probably feeling very awkward. He pulled away from his mom (who was finger combing his hair and making soft little noises while also probably checking for more bruises...probably should have given those some time to heal, whoops) and cleared his throat. “This is, um. This is Max, I should probably introduce you guys. He’s my boyfriend.” That was a start, at least.
His parents turned to look at Max, both suddenly very suspicious, shifting closer to their son and very obviously protecting him - unnecessary, but it made him smile. Tears were stowed away for now.
“And who exactly is he?” his mother asked, looking at Nasir but clearly addressing the stranger in the room instead. Nasir rolled his eyes.
Max certainly wanted the chair - he settled, scented floral offerings and baked goods set down as well, and he cleared his throat. Somewhat nervously, to accompany the bashful smile (rarely was he shy, not him, but meeting the significant other’s family tended to cause feelings like that). He just wanted them to like him, really, that was all Trevelyan wanted. And for Nasir to have his parents in his life again - but it looked to be on a good path; the way his mother was cooing over him (her baby!) was very sweet.
“It’s so nice to meet you both, I hope you still like roses? And chocolate. We weren’t sure, but didn’t want to visit without something - “ Oh, right, he should probably talk about himself a little. Any parent would want to be assured their child wasn’t involved with a weirdo. So who was he, exactly?
An excellent question - some parts had to be omitted, to protect the innocent. Nasir’s parents didn’t need to know about the inner workings of Orange County’s insanity yet. “I’m a therapist,” he offered. “It’s what I do. But Nasir and I have friends in common - we met at a dinner party.”
Mostly. Let’s also not talk about Valarnet, because why would they.
Well if it wasn’t really the whole truth it was close enough. Max was so much more but Nasir couldn’t tell them what, or really much about anything at all. It was a depressing thought, but he didn’t want them to know about...everything. So “a therapist” would settle for now. “He’s great,” Nasir told his mother. “And he made you cake.”
That seemed to do the trick - or at least a little bit of a trick, because she perked right up. Still suspicious but definitely intrigued too. “Cake?” she said, glancing at the container, and then at Nasir, who chuckled.
“All I did was taste, it’s safe to eat. I promise,” he said, and she glanced at it again and nodded. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and cut us all a piece. We’d like to talk to Max a little bit.”
Nasir rolled his eyes. He knew what that ‘talk’ was going to include...or at least he could guess. But he picked up the container of cake (and the flowers too, showing them to his mom to get her ~approval~ before he put them in a vase...wherever she kept the vases. Sorry Max, you might have to hang out with the parents for a little longer than expected).
“You stirred the batter too,” Max added helpfully, with a fond smile. But mostly, it was true, Nasir had been the taste tester - his talents lay in other areas besides baking or cooking. He was getting better though? At least spaghetti didn’t require Google’s help these days.
And ah, yes, the talk. An Inquisition he could handle (ironic, right?) and Trevelyan couldn’t blame mom and dad for being suspicious - they hadn’t seen their son in years, and all of a sudden he showed back up with some strange guy. Most anyone would be wary in that situation, so, Max would do his best to ease their worries. He expected it would go something like ‘if you hurt him, no one will find the body’ and he could understand that too. Yes sir, yes ma’am - your son was in good hands.
It even hurt quite a bit when he bitchslapped people with this prosthetic one, you know.
Nasir smiled at Max as he passed by, running a hand through his hair as he passed by on his way to the kitchen and giving his parents a Look that hopefully indicated ‘no murdering’. Unfortunately he wasn’t quite as good at Looking as he could be, so.
But he went to the kitchen, spent way too long looking for a vase and plates and forks and everything - it wasn’t like any of the places they’d lived before, which wasn’t a bad thing. This was nice, and felt like a home. Someplace they could stay for a long time. He wished that he’d gotten to help them make it this way, and at the same time some little dark part of him said that maybe they’d gotten to this point because he wasn’t around. He brushed that part off, though, and instead let out a soft noise in victory as he finally found the plates. (They were on the top shelf and he had to drag a chair over. Stupid tall people.) The flowers ended up in a large cup for lack of anywhere else to put them, the cake was put on plates, forks were uncovered, and he was headed back to the living room..
He hadn’t heard any screaming and no sounds of viscera being torn asunder - a sound with which he was fairly familiar, thank you Orange County - so he had to assume that things went well. Rounding the corner back to the living room, everything seemed to be as he’d left it, Max looking only a little worse for wear. He had probably been made aware of just how much Nasir was his parents’ son, and rather than sit back with them he leaned against the arm of the chair with his plate in hand. Max would probably need the comfort, and besides, Nasir was feeling a little overwhelmed. He’d been without his parents - or really, any person who was any type of parental - for so long that it was an intimidating amount of attention.
Nasir wasn’t good at ‘The Look’ and his parents weren’t that great at invoking teeth-clattering fear anyway (come on, they were far too sweet for that) so it wasn’t terrible - he didn’t need to be anxious. Max just smiled at him when he returned, draping an arm over his thigh and giving his knee a pat where he perched on the armrest. Trevelyan couldn’t reveal that he was a mage, or that he’d literally fallen from the sky and ended up leading an Inquisition which became a political presence in southern Thedas, during a very tumultuous time. So he’d mainly stuck to answering the questions Nasir’s parents had for him.
And questioning a little about what the baby boy was like when he wasn’t as punch-happy, naturally. Nasir wasn’t going to be able to live that down. “In case you were worried, I won’t tell anyone back home you were once skinny enough to be blown over by a stiff breeze,” Max chuckled, giving his knee a squeeze this time.
It was comfort and support too, because now that they were all in the room it was possible it’d be Nasir’s turn for questions - meaning, where had he been throughout the missing years.
Nasir smiled at Max and put a hand over his, squeezing a little. Not too traumatized then, although apparently he’d been hearing stories. He covered his face and groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t see the pictures,” he grumbled. Of course he saw the pictures. He was honestly surprised his mom didn’t have the photo albums out, but wasn’t going to say anything in case it gave her ideas.
But no. Now she was looking troubled and Nasir knew what was coming next without her having to say anything, and he clung to Max’s hand a little more.
“Where have you been? You just disappeared one day.”
It was the question he’d both been expecting and dreading, and he glanced at Max - for support, or to bail him out, he wasn’t sure. He’d thought up a couple of excuses but they all seemed to have holes in them. But there was no way he was telling his mother what really happened. So he forced a smile. “I...I was upset and I ran away and after I worked myself out I was too ashamed to come back. Since I just left you guys all alone I didn’t think that it would be right to come back. By the time I worked up the courage to do it you guys had moved out of the old apartment. But I’m fine,” he was quick to assure, because his mom was starting to get a look on her face that was far too upset for his liking. “I’m okay. I promise. I’m much better than I was then.” And he was, he so was. He had friends, a fantastic boyfriend, (hopefully) his family; he was in good health, and he was happy. Apart from the dreams he was doing better than he could have imagined even as a skinny, lonely, desperate sixteen year old. He just hoped his parents saw that.
As far as revealing what really happened, well, that was up to Nasir. Maybe one day he would tell his parents and maybe he wouldn’t but Max certainly wasn’t going to do it for him. Not his place, first of all. Secondly, the most important part was that they were reunited - it was a huge step to come over here, to reach out for those connections. Trevelyan was proud of his scrappy other half.
“He really wanted to see you,” Max added, glancing at the very emotionally overwhelmed parents. “And if you ever want to visit too, we’re in Anaheim. We’d love that.”
Might have to hide the dream artifacts (namely, the bog unicorn who had a snazzy stable in the backyard now) but that was no big deal. Eventually it might even get to the point where Max could take them all to Skyhold too, especially since he was working on converting it into a resort with rooms to rent. Who didn’t love castle in the mountains as a vacation destination?
Aaaaaaaaand his mom was crying, and his dad didn’t look like he was too far off. That was what he was trying to avoid. Nasir squeezed Max’s hand again and stood up, crossing to sit between them again. “No, it’s okay, see? I’m okay. I’m sorry I left but I’m back now, right?” He hoped that was enough, and as they both hugged him tight, he thought it was at least a start. Nasir motioned for Max to make himself at home since it looked like they’d be there a while, and then wrapped his arms around his parents and let himself be clung to.
There was a lot rawness in the room, in terms of feelings, of emotions - but Max expected that too, and he just gave a bit of a watery smile at Nasir as he observed the way his parents were holding onto him like they were afraid he’d disappear again. Of course they’d forgive him, they wouldn’t demand answers as long as their son was safe and with them - mothers and fathers were meant to love their children unconditionally. They were some of the few in a person’s life who knew what that even meant. Trevelyan didn’t believe his own parents did, but that was a bridge to cross another time.
For now, he would just let them have a moment and probably find the water glasses. Because of the gallons of cathartic tears shed they’d probably need to rehydrate, after all.