A/N: First time really writing Anders, so I hope he's IC and whatnot. Thank you for reading!

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It was hard to breathe, like rocks had come tumbling down, pinning Anders into place. He struggled to get in a lung-full of air, to no avail. Whatever had happened, he was trapped, pinned down. However, when his panic reached for Justice, to help, the spirit did not come.

For a moment, he was terrified.

Had something happened to him? To Justice?

Where was he?

There was a pleasant smell in the air, cinnamon and baking dough.

It was such a harsh contradiction to the boulder on his back.

Was he near a home? If he shouted would someone come to help him? Or would they turn him over to the templars.

Digging his fingers into what should have been dirt, he was baffled when he felt smooth cloth beneath him.

None of this was making any sense…

He tried to push himself up against the weight, only to hear a soft whine.

Anders opened his eyes slowly, the bleary morning light confusing him all the more as he saw the furniture he'd grown so fond of. His and Hawke's dresser, the night stand, that tapestry that they both couldn't figure out whether it was depicting wolves or naked ladies—they kept it with the determination that someday they'd figure it out—all the little tokens and trinkets of affection they'd offered one another in the last few weeks.

Now that he was more awake, he could feel Justice's presence there in his mind, never more than a thought away, settled and quiet for now.

Even as he wondered why he was pinned down so, Justice heaved a tired sigh.

You'll thank me for not responding earlier. He'd not forgive you easily.

While Justice didn't usually speak in riddles, Anders was too tired to figure it out.

That is, until another whine and a sudden, sharp kick to his shoulder.

Anders closed his eyes again taking in a breath through his nose and then exhaling slowly before turning his head the best he could to see the mongrel sprawled out across his back.

"Hawke!"

He could barely yell with the damned beast on his back, and did his best to scowl at it, though the mabari couldn't see him from the angle it had lain on him.

"Bad dog!" Anders hissed, trying to push at the creature with one hand, though a lolling tongue was all that greeted his touch. "Hawke!"

There was the faintest of sounds in the distance and abruptly the mabari rolled upright, still half on Anders, an elbow kneading into his lower back for a second before it used him as a springboard to bound off the bed and down the hall.

Anders let out a sharp gasp, finally free to breathe, though the pain in his back hardly let him enjoy it.

Casting a quick heal on himself, he sat up before the blasted beast could come back and shuffled around, grabbing his clothes and heading downstairs.

He found Garrett sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating freshly baked rolls while Bodahn cooked something for breakfast. As he pulled his shirt into place, he slouched into the seat beside his lover, frowning and glancing under the table when his foot hit something.

Happy, amber eyes peered back up at him from beneath the table.

"We need to talk about your mutt," Anders muttered, reaching out and taking on of the rolls. Cinnamon had been swirled into the dough and despite wanting to stay angry, he couldn't help but let out a small, contented hum at the taste.

"Oh no, did Barkenbird cuddle up with you again?"

"Cuddling would be one thing," Anders protested, not bothering to point out for the nth time that the dog probably acted up out of humiliation of that name. "He was smothering me. I think he's out to kill me."

"Nah, if he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't be so friendly. Right boy?" Garrett reached under the table to scratch under the beast's chin, and the dog let out a happy bark in reply that was a bit louder than it should have been, holed up in the kitchen as they were.

With a sigh, Anders rolled his eyes as Garrett leaned over and gave his ear a light nip. "I will try to keep him out of the room when I'm not there," Garrett offered, pressing a kiss to Anders' jaw before moving to get another roll.

As Anders sighed, he had to lift his arm quickly when a pink tongue snaked out from under the table, after his roll. With scowl, he bent down so that he could glare properly at the dog.

"This is why I like cats."

Another whine sounded in reply.