Three's Company

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none

Author's Notes:

Dear S.D.: see, I promised it would happen! (You probably don't remember.) Don't get all excited, though ;D

Now let's see how good my writing was 7 years ago... And after all this time, NO, I still don't have a better title than this. Oh well. It's grown on me, I guess.

Three's Company

==#==

"Wynne," Bannon said softly. She turned and he touched her elbow, drawing her aside so they could speak, alone. She gave him an open curious look. "Listen," he said, "I want to apologize for Zevran's behavior earlier."

Her brows went up. "You're apologizing for him? Well, I appreciate the sentiment, Bannon, but you're not responsible for his behavior. Shouldn't he be making his own apologies?" She didn't like her spiritual bond to be cheapened into something tawdry, and her voice turned a bit sharp. "Though reprehensible as he is, I wouldn't expect it."

Bannon grimaced. "It's just... I don't think he's ever known anything like that. I was hoping you could get through to him." He slumped, head down, and turned to go.

"Bannon, wait." He turned back to her, and she searched his face. He had such a sad, thoughtful mein. He didn't often show this side of himself, Wynne realized. He wore his flippancy like a mask - like armor to shield himself from harm. As the meaning of his words and their implications unfolded within her mind, she began to realize that Zevran must be the same way. There was more to these elves - so much more - than they ever revealed. Wynne's expression softened. "I just wanted to tell you: I was wrong before, about your relationship with Zevran. I thought..."

"That we were having wild, kinky sex and ignoring our duties while the world went to hell?" Bannon supplied drolly. A touch of heat rose in Wynne's cheeks. She stammered a bit, but he didn't let her flounder for long. More gently he said, "No, I can see how you might get that idea."

"Well," she said, taking a breath, "in all the wisdom of hindsight, I can see Zevran was right. Life for a Grey Warden is dangerous and short. If you don't take time for personal pleasures, when will you ever know happiness?"

"Then our lives would be dangerous, short, and miserable."

Wynne chuckled softly, but she studied the elf's face. "I've watched the both of you as your bond has grown stronger and deeper. And I think both of you have benefited from it. When he looks at you, his whole demeanor changes. His eyes show a warmth they don't usually have. He really loves you."

"You think so?" Bannon asked.

Wynne blinked in shock. Her mouth dropped open slightly. "You mean you don't know?"

Bannon looked aside, tipping his head and his hands in a helpless shrug.

"Doesn't he tell you?" Wynne insisted. To her surprise, he only shook his head. "Well, haven't you told him how you feel?"

"I can't."

Oh, elves! Sometimes Wynne wanted to strangle them. "Well what is so difficult about telling the one you love how you feel? Why would you deny your own emotions?"

"It's not that," he said quickly. He turned and paced off a few steps. "It's just... it's been so difficult to get him to open up to me this far. I think he loves me, and I think he knows I love him..." He chewed doubtfully on the inside of his cheek.

Wynne gave a silent sigh. "Maybe he's just waiting for you to take the first step," she suggested.

Bannon faced her. "I'm afraid if I push too hard, too soon, he'll just retreat again, and I'll lose him." He shook his head. "He's not ready, Wynne."

"All right," she said gently. "You know him best."

Some tension drained from his frame. "Thanks, Wynne," he said earnestly, touching her arms in the briefest shadow of an embrace. Then he turned and hurried off.

==#==

While the estate was large, it was by no means lavish. It was not designed to hold so many overnight guests at once. The servants were scrambling to make suitable arrangements. Alistair went to his room for spare bedding. Bannon and Zevran followed, checking the place out.

"This is your room?" asked Bannon.

"Well, it's a guest room that I use when I'm here. I mean, I'm not really family."

Zevran said, "Your bed is huge. The three of us could fit in it."

Alistair turned from the linen closet, arms full of bedding and pillows. "Oh, you are not serious!"

"Why not?" Bannon asked mildly.

Alistair looked at him, then at Zevran, then back. Both had expressions of innocent query on their faces. "Gee," Alistair said, "there are just so many reasons, I can't pick only one."

"Really," Bannon told him, "in the Alienage, a whole family could sleep in a bed this size."

"You're not thinking anything lewd, are you, Alistair?" Zevran added with a sly grin.

"Of course not!"

"All right then. You should sleep in the middle, being the largest. Less likely for you to fall out."

"B-Bu-Bu-!" he stammered.

Bannon said reasonably, "I suppose Sten could fit in it, if he stretched corner to corner, but then that would leave all three of us to sleep on the floor."

"Seems a waste of space, that," Zevran agreed.

"All right, all right!" Alistair dumped a load of pillows on Zevran, and comforters on Bannon. "But just no... no..." He shook a finger at them. "No hanky-panky in my bed!"

Zevran rolled his eyes and tsked. Bannon said, "Honestly, Alistair! Where's your mind?" They carried the bedding out.

"Right where Zevran put it!" he yelled after them. "I can't believe I agreed to this."

==#==

The bed did fit all three of them. The elves didn't take up that much room, really. Besides, how much trouble could they get into, with Alistair separating them?

In the middle of the night, Bannon started moaning in his sleep. Alistair, sleeping only fitfully, rolled onto his side and put an arm over his head. Zevran sat up and jabbed the human with a forefinger. "Alistair!" He only got a tired groan in response. Zevran poked him again, this time in the solar plexus. "Get up. Let me comfort him."

Alistair sat up, clutching his stomach. "Owww," he complained. Bannon started thrashing.

"Move." Zevran pushed at the human ineffectually. Giving up, he just clambered around him. "Get out of the way."

Alistair half slid, half rolled to the edge of the bed, dragging the covers with him like a trawler with its net.

Zevran slipped next to Bannon and put a hand on his forehead. "Shh," he said, stroking Bannon's hair. "It's okay. Shh... it's all right." The Grey Warden quieted, whimpering softly.

Alistair looked over at them, a sneer of disgust curling his lip. But then he opened his eyes and really looked. Zevran's gaze was tender as he comforted his lover with gentle words. Bannon's face relaxed, horror and pain draining away. Mutely, Alistair untangled most of the bedding and handed it to Zevran.

The elf took it and drew it over himself and his companion as he snuggled down beside him.

Alistair lay back and closed his eyes.

"What is it the Wardens dream about?" Zevran whispered.

"It's the Archdemon," the Templar answered quietly. "It's calling to the Horde, guiding it. We get echoes of that. When we dream."

"That sounds rather useful," the pragmatic elf replied. "To know what your enemy is plotting."

"Well, it's not in so many words," Alistair told him. "It's... It's like singing. At first, it sounds like the most beautiful song, and you want to hear more of it. But as it draws you in, you realize... you can feel the Taint. It's like biting a fruit and only realizing it's rotten after you swallowed half of it. You feel the song - the Taint - inside you and it... it tries to make you do terrible things." The human trailed off uneasily.

"Yes, that sounds..." Zevran also trailed off. "Like quite the nightmare," he finished absently.

Alistair rolled on his side and tried to go back to sleep.

==#==

Zevran dreamt of a large ox. He tried to pat it on the nose, but the thing just opened its maw and swallowed his hand. He was surprised, but oddly unconcerned. The ox chewed placidly until it had devoured his arm up to his shoulder. Then it gave a wet snort right in his face.

He blinked awake, trying to get his bearings. He couldn't feel his right arm; it had fallen asleep because Alistair was lying on it, with his head pillowed on Zevran's shoulder. The human gave another snort, snoring with his mouth slack, drooling slightly.

"Ugh," Zevran said to himself. Somehow, Alistair drooling over him wasn't as sexy as he had imagined. "I suppose if you wake up now, this is all somehow my fault," he muttered, wondering how he was going to rescue his arm.

He shifted carefully, and the movement caused pins and needles to shoot up his arm. He winced and wriggled some more.

"Nurg," said Alistair.

"Get off, you big ox," Zevran hissed. He pushed at the human's shoulder, mentally cursing how heavy humans could be. With some more insistent shoving, he finally got Alistair to roll over, and freed his arm.

The entire length of it was lancing with pain as circulation was restored. Since it was already getting light out, Zevran wriggled out of the bed at the foot of it, leaving the two Wardens still fast asleep.

He trudged to the dining hall, rubbing his arm. Gratefully, he accepted a cup of coffee from a servant and sat on a chair next to Wynne, who was also an early riser. "Sleeping with two Grey Wardens is not conducive to a good night's rest," he grumbled at her.

Wynne rolled her eyes and sipped her own coffee. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a remark," she told him.

"What?" he protested innocently. "I'm sure you've noticed we are a bit short on sleeping space. Where are you, Leliana, and Morrigan sleeping?"

"We have cots in one of the guest rooms," she said. "Not that it's any of your business."

"No, no. Well, Sten cannot fit into any bed, and Oghren can fit in a chair. But Alistair has a really huge bed that all three of us can fit in." Zevran blew on his coffee to cool it a bit. "But those nightmares they suffer." He shook his head. "I think I may change my mind about joining the Grey Wardens."

Wynne blinked in surprise and turned to look at him. "You wanted to join the Wardens?"

"Si! Any why not? Aren't we doing all the same work, fightin the darkspawn, taking all the same risks? But all without the status and privileges of being Grey Warden."

"Status and privileges?" Wynne sputtered. "That isn't what being a Grey Warden is about! What about the responsibility?"

"What about it?"

"Being a Grey Warden means you pledge to give up your life in defense of all beings."

"Explain to me the practical difference between that and what I am doing now," the assassin countered.

Wynne opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Are you really willing to sacrifice your own life - to die - in defense of the people of Ferelden?"

"Mm, not really, no," Zevran confessed. "But I am pledged to serve Bannon. Where he goes, I go. And if he is killed... well, it will only be over my dead body," he asserted.

Wynne sighed. "That's still not quite the same."

"Bannon turned me down, though, when I offered." Zevran shrugged. He sipped his coffee a while, then asked, "Would you? Join the Grey Wardens, I mean."

Wynne frowned in thought. "No," she said finally. "I wouldn't mind giving my life fighting the Blight, but..." She sighed. "Afterward, I'd really like my life to be my own again."

"You don't think the Grey Wardens' job will be done with, after the Blight is over?" He frowned. He and Bannon didn't talk much about the future, but he was pretty sure Bannon wanted to stay together.

"Zevran," said Wynne, "it's never as easy as 'happily ever after.' This isn't a story, you know."

The elf sighed. "Yes, I know."

==#==

Bannon trudged into the washroom, bleary-eyed. Alistair was just finishing with his shaving. The elf had to stare at the bizarre process. Well, it was better than the alternative.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Alistair said. "Kinda personal, maybe?"

"What is it?"

"I've been wondering... about this two men thing? And I think I understand how it works..." Alistair hesitated, but Bannon didn't give him any help, nor stop him. "It just seems... it would be entirely uncomfortable."

"Well, it's not for everyone."

"I guess not. But... I mean... doesn't that hurt?"

"No, Alistair, it doesn't hurt." Bannon washed his hands and poked around to find his tooth-cleaning brush. "Well. A little, at first," he admitted. "Look, it's the same thing with a woman."

"It is?"

"If you do it badly, or don't pay enough attention to her needs, then yes, you can hurt her. Especially if she's a virgin. But if you do it properly, it's very good." Bannon paused in thought. "Zevran is really very... very good."

"Uhrmmm. Oh." Alistair pursed his lips. "I still don't get it."

"Well, if you try it, you might."

"Gah!"

"Or," Bannon stressed, "it's not for you. So don't."

"I didn't mean anything by asking," the human said apologetically. "I was just curious, is all."

Bannon unclenched his grip. "It's all right." He didn't want to think about that now. Didn't he have enough worries? Politics, the Landsmeet vote, Crows trying to assassinate them, Loghain trying to assassinate them, the whole Blight thing, the Archdemon eating them and destroying the world. Compared to that, worrying what people thought about him and Zevran seemed trivial.

Then he thought about telling his family and almost choked on his tooth-brush.

==X==