It seemed all Garret Hawke did these days was mediate childish disputes, especially between these two. Most of the time, he really didn't mind it. Their snarking (for that's all it truly was at this point, no matter how much they would deny it) often put him in mind of the arguments Bethany and Carver used to get into, both always looking to their older brother to pick a side. It reminded him of a time when life was, well, never simple with three apostates in the house, but quieter, easier, or seemed to be.
Today, however, all it was doing was giving him a pounding headache. They were all sitting in Varric's suite in the Hanged Man, and were supposed to be playing Diamondback and getting shitfaced. Unfortunately, those two just couldn't leave it at the door. Garret honestly didn't even know what they were arguing about this time, nor did he particularly care. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, futilely hoping that his headache would abate. He would be willing to bet every soverign he owned that neither of them, perhaps no one but Varric and maybe Aveline, remembered what today was, about what he had found in that foundry three years ago today. Void take it, that was the only reason he had accepted Varric's invitation tonight, to forget everything he had lost (father, sister, brother, mother, all dead, dead, dead).
The more he thought about his friend and his lover's inability to put aside their differences for one day, one sodding day, the angrier he got. Fortunately for them, Garret was not a man prone to loud or violent fits of anger. His anger was quiet, it sizzled beneath the surface. So, despite the desire to set both of them on fire, he simply placed his cards down on the table, quietly got up, and left.
He supposed it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, to walk home alone at night, but most gangs were still hesitant to attack him after his rise to champion. As he crossed the bridge from Lowtown to Hightown, he wondered idly how long it would take for them to realize he hadn't gone down for another drink, that he was gone.
He silently entered his house, knowing that the Feddics and Orana were all probably sleeping, and slipped upstairs. Thunder was curled up in front of the hearth in his chambers, giving Garrett a cursory "wuff" before settling back down into sleep. Garrett stripped and slipped into bed, falling into an uneasy sleep.
Sometime later, he felt the warm body of his lover slip into be beside him, tentatively curling around his back.
"I am sorry," Fenris whispered, his gravelly voice showing more grief than he was able to voice. "I did not realize-but I should have."
"It's not entirely your fault," Garrett whispered. "Most days, it doesn't bother me. But sometimes...sometimes I just want one day without a fight, or a crisis, or anything, really. Just one day of peace; one day where no one has to fight, or hurt, or die..." Garrett choked of a sob at the end.
Fenris's grip on Garrett's middle tightened.
"What can I do?" Fenris breathed against Garrett's ear. "Tell me, and it is done."
Garrett rolled over in his love's embrace, pressing his face into Fenris's chest, feeling his heartbeat pound against his cheek.
"Just-just, hold me?"
"Always," came the gruff whisper.
"I am yours."