Richie and Max are gooey, and discuss the many changes happening in Vallo and their future together.
MID-JULY | PIZZA AND PDA | PG-13
Although Thedas didn’t have a festival like Pride, June was swiftly becoming one of Max’s favorite times of year here in Vallo. It was lovely, seeing everyone smiling and happy - and all the colors! - and of course the highlight of it all last year was getting engaged to his now-husband, Richie. Even though it was solidly in July now, Pride having wrapped up a week before, Max nonetheless got a sweet kick out of sharing a pizza with the man across the table from him, and it showed on his face. The world was uncertain, people were disappearing left and right, but at least they still had each other: and marinara sauce.
“Do you think more of El’s friends are on their way?” Max was asking, thinking of the young woman they’d gotten to know over the last few months. He was frankly delighted that Jim Hopper had arrived, and was in the process of trying to get the man to open up. Max was used to having to work at things, after all, having managed to charm over a number of recalcitrant people back home to support the Inquisition. Sometimes there was nothing to do but wait.
Richie remembered when they got engaged, he and Max, the heat from the pizza box seeping into his nervously shaking hands because will you marry me? was scrawled on the inside of the cardboard lid - he remembered that they both knew it was a huge risk, and that they were jumping blindly into something after only knowing each other for less than a year. Yet when you knew, you knew - it was right, a key into a lock or the last piece of the puzzle sliding into its place for the ultimate completion; so yeah, they’d done it.
Engaged and then married a few weeks later, celebrating with their friends at Skyhold and a shit ton of cereal, video games, and karaoke - Richie didn’t regret it for one second. He didn’t regret it even if he’d vanish one morning, leaving Max beside his imprint on the bed - any version of Richie wouldn’t have regretted it either, would have said he’d be a complete dumbass for not marrying someone who was obviously perfect for him.
So, you know, people were disappearing and some of them had been here a really long time - but Richie was going to continue to cling to this for as long as he could. He loved Max fierce as a wildfire and would until his own world beckoned, until it laid claim to his bones again - being married was amazing too and their relationship, like the seasons, went through changes and yet was always still beautiful to him.
Having El was great too, though he was also glad she had Hopper around now. Richie knew the kid had missed him. “I hope so,” he grinned, reaching for the red pepper flakes to add a few more shakes to his pizza. He liked this place because the slices came on paper plates, they folded, and were so hot he’d burned his mouth a few times. Worth it. “Her world is super wild - it also sucks, but most of ours do too,” he said, trying not to talk with his mouth full. “I mean, we have room at Skyhold for all her friends anyway, right? If that’s what they want. ‘Cause I know you’re a big softie.”
Like Richie himself wasn’t. Please.
“Yes, Richie, I am absolutely the one between us who immediately adopts anyone under the age of twenty,” Max agreed with gentle snark, flashing his husband a grin. Richie’s generous nature was one of the things he loved most about him. It was rare to meet someone who genuinely was that selfless - being in politics for as long as he had, Max had gotten cynical about the motivations of others. Richie just… really was that giving. Heart eyes, honestly.
Still, the thought of what El had left behind - what all her friends had left behind - made him shudder. The Upside Down. He wondered who’d win in a “what the fuck” contest - it or the Fade. “I am glad we’ve got all the room we need, no matter where everyone winds up. It’s good to have a place to fall back to. I have really enjoyed hearing voices ringing ‘round Skyhold again.” The place got a bit lonely where there was nothing but the echoes of his own footsteps.
Yeah, yeah - starting with Enola, who had teamed up with him pretty much when the both of them first arrived in Vallo, Richie had for sure began honing his wacky dad instincts like right from the get-go. “It’s good practice for Alfie,” he said and, holy shit, he still missed that kiddo. It was no doubt going to be amazing getting to nurture him from when he was a tiny half-orc in diapers - and for that, Richie was continuing to attempt to be patient and let the dominoes fall where they would.
He didn’t even scry about it much either - though given the way things were going as of recent times, he wondered if he should start. The pen infused with crystal, one meant to boost his visions and a gift from Max, was the perfect tool - he had long since accepted that there was magic breathed into him, even if it had come from a dark place like Derry. Magic that sparked and shimmered with lines that went criss-cross, histories and the future - but even that wouldn’t be enough to keep him here if he was supposed to go. So he just hoped he wouldn’t.
But, you know, speaking of that and all. Richie took another bite of pizza, somewhat thoughtful. “Been rough lately too, hasn’t it?” he frowned. “People losing...other people. And shit.” He was certain Max could put it better than he could, or had something wise to say about it all - he usually did.
“I’ve hated it.” Max never hid his true emotions, not around his husband, so he didn’t bother to do the half-smile thing he usually did when speaking of upsetting topics. Hey, look, it’s okay! That smile said. And sometimes it wasn’t; they both knew it wasn’t, and still Max would change absolutely nothing about the actions they had taken, the bond they had made. It was what it was. “I’m both so grateful and so upset when I see those lists that come out, and I have to-- quantify who’s gone. Figure out how upset I have a right to be about it, and weigh it against being so damn glad it’s passed you and I specifically by.”
Losing Enola, losing Hazel… it hurt. And there were any more possibilities just awaiting them, positive and negative.
…point of fact: “Alfie,” he said, and he grinned in earnest. “I think about him so often. I keep thinking - when is too early to start buying bowties?”
Richie laughed, feeling warmth flood his face and in his veins and just all over, really. It happened whenever he and Max talked about Alfie and Richie tried to reel it in - he didn’t want to ‘put it out there,’ due to fears that talking about it too much would mean it wasn’t going to happen. Felt like creeping along thin ice that looked precarious, a layer of plastic over water, and once he and Max actually had that green-skinned baby in their arms only then would he relax fully.
Maybe not even then. Could he truly trust Vallo? Probably not. No one could - because they weren’t locals. They didn’t belong here.
“I don’t think it’s too early at all,” he perked up, reaching across the table to take Max’s hand, flesh and blood. Yes, Richie was going to be that sap who wanted to hold hands while eating - surely his own husbando was used to it by now. “I’ve been seeing some really adorable ones lately, maybe it’s a sign.” He stroked over and in between Max’s fingers, the ones that cast all those spells - another kind of magic Richie would never know, because it ran through Max’s blood, but it was still cool to witness. “And...I get how hard it is to weigh being upset with relieved, when the notifications pop up. It fucking sucks,” he huffed. “But, you know - we all have things we cling to here. It’s different for all of us. I’m never going to let you go - and no one better expect me to.”
Then he grinned, wolfishly. “That sounds creepy as fuck but you might be into it.”
Max eyed him with an expression that didn’t seem repulsed: “You know, if this were a conversation we were having on the network, I would absolutely have sent you that video of the singing young man with the surprisingly deep voice making promises as he weaves awkwardly in a trenchcoat.” He never could remember the words ‘rick roll’. But he felt as if it were appropriate here.
“Maybe,” he said after a moment, his fingers brushing against Richie’s as he thought out loud, “we should more actively plan for the future we know we want. Pick out a nice room for him. I’d like to read up on parenting. And we could both purchase those bowties we’ve spied in window displays.” There was nothing wrong with looking forward to something. Somehow it might make it seem more real, Max thought. Feel less like they were riding the crest of Vallo’s fickle wave.
Oh, shit, Richie would have totally Rick Rolled Max - he’d put that song on the playlist he made as a Valentine’s gift, so, he was pretty fond of the ‘surprise’ that came along with fooling someone and sending them down an eighties-inspired rabbit hole. “Weaves awkwardly in a trench coat is the best way to describe that music video,” he laughed and, really, he didn’t have many greater pleasures than realizing Max actually paid attention to Richie’s pop culture lessons and then brought up shit later with his own spin on it.
He hoped they would have many more years to continue those lessons too - because Max had so much to catch up on, it was wild. Good thing he was married to someone who was a walking encyclopedia on useless crap.
“Yeah - I like that idea though,” he said, using his free hand to pick up his soda glass and sluuuuuuurp, right at the dregs of the ice. Very attractive, surely. “We could pick out a room for him. Start adding stuff, slowly - because he’ll need a lot. And definitely read up on parenting. There are classes too, right? Should we take a class?”
Did he even know how to change a diaper? Well, maybe. He’d practiced some with Lucy. But fuck, the horror.
Max pulled his hand back so he could get back to wolfing down pizza - even though he loved his prosthetic, it was really just easier to eat when he could use both limbs, and gave a big grin.
“Let’s take a class!” he agreed, because he was a nerd and had never really gotten over wanting to be graded (provided that he received a good grade, which of course he almost always did because he was a people-pleaser). “If nothing else, I’m sure there are loads of inconsistencies in child raising between your world and mine that we’ll need to be aware of. A class would absolutely cover the most important of them, yeah?”
Oh, alright, Richie supposed Max could have both of his hands for eating - even though his spouse was such a goddamn sap that he would want to hold hands while shoving pizza in his face. Richie made no apologies for it though. He was so incredibly touchy-feely when you got past the barrier of inappropriate humor and ‘I’m deflecting so I don’t show anyone how fucked up my childhood made me’ hard candy shell. But he’d accepted, ever since being in Vallo, that he was probably always going to be a little bit fucked up - it was a conversation he’d had with Catra too, sort of.
Having a shit childhood was a hell of a thing - and, no, it wasn’t like that was anything new around here. But still.
And when he considered godawful childhoods, the last thing he wanted was for Alfie to tuck one of those under his belt and thus having a requirement for therapy later. Richie was determined to be a good dad - and he knew Max was too. They wouldn’t be perfect but they would be pretty awesome. “Uhhh, yeah, inconsistencies,” he snorted in amusement, leaning back in his chair but long fingers tore at the remaining pizza crust on his plate. “Probably - I mean, you were like...stuck in magic prison for most of your youth.” That wasn’t going to be a thing here. Magic was wholly embraced, and Richie supposed reading up on orc culture as well meant that they’d figure out what Alfie could even do - they’d done some research while he’d been here ‘from the future’ but could probably stand to learn more.
“Mostly I grew up in the era where parents hadn’t figured out that spanking your kids isn’t appropriate punishment - but I think by now, it’s been fully confirmed that hitting them will fuck them up.” Like, duh. Richie would never.
“I don’t even enjoy hitting people I don’t like,” Max confirmed with a nose wrinkle. Sure, he’d killed a bajillion corrupted Templars and whatnot, but it hadn’t been his choice. “I couldn’t imagine doing it so a child. But-- you’re not wrong. The Circle…” he pressed his lips together, thinking of his childhood after his magic had presented itself. He’d had it easy, relatively speaking, because the Trevelyans had enough clout in the Free Marches to ensure that no one would behave too badly to him. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew how it could go, if you weren’t important enough to miss.
And that didn’t even touch the whole “space alien demon clown” thing that Richie had lived through. Twice.
His fingers clutched a pizza slice, so Max couldn’t return to holding Richie’s hand (that was how much he loved Richie; Richie nearly won out against pizza), and so Max lightly moved his leg forward to press against his husband’s under the table.
“Well, we both have experienced trauma that we would wish to keep in our generation,” he concluded delicately, and gave a little half-smile. “I know, you’re so significantly hotter because of it - rugged, really, weathered in a good way - but I’m good with erring on the side of making Alfie feel as happy and protected and loved as he could possibly be, instead.” That smile grew. “I know we’re good for that. Yeah?”
Playing footsie and leg entanglement under the table was definitely as good as holding hands - Richie returned the leg press, wrapped around Max a bit loosely (and his legs were long enough to accomplish this feat with at least one, so it was one advantage to being a muppet). “I’m rugged - fuck, only you would think that,” he laughed, turning a bit red because of all the words to describe him, the ones Max had just chosen were not really on The List with most people.
But Max also wasn’t most people, and Richie was grateful for that - he was sweet and kind yet stern when he had to be and he’d seemed to bring out the softer sides of Richie too which were very much there. He doubted he’d have been so eager to delve into fatherhood as a single dad, if he didn’t have Max - mostly because there wouldn’t be anyone encouraging him that he could do it. That he wouldn’t inevitably screw the kid up.
“I know we’re both good for that too,” he agreed, his eyes bright behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “But let’s talk about how hot I am. Or, well, wait - mostly about how hot you are. And how we should definitely bang when we get home.”
So subtle. He supposed he really didn’t need to be though, since they’d gotten past the initial courtship rituals.
“It’s a good thing I know you love me for more than my hot ass,” Max teased with faux annoyance, and with a decisive push closed the lid of the pizza box. “You know, it just so happens that I love cold, leftover pizza.”
Non-subtle hint returned in kind. But hey, they’d been married a whole year. Practically a lifetime by trauma standards. And Max? Was ready for another fifty lifetimes.