faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Gavin and OPEN
WHAT: After returning to the Mire, Gavin goes around delivering any mail that had arrived at Skyhold for people.
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Fallow Mire
NOTES: There's probably going to be some shippy shit with him and Maxwell sorry not sorry

Open.

Gavin has two satchels slung over his shoulder, full of mail, humming as he walked through the camp. For the letters whose recipients he knew by name, he simply went directly to them with a smile and a wave, to hand them their post. It wasn't until they'd all gotten their letters that Gavin started looking through the ones with unfamiliar names.

He frowned - because reading was hard - and had to spend several minutes mouthing out each name, or asking someone else to read it for him, before calling out for the person in question and just sort of hoping they, or someone that knew them, would hear him.

For Maxwell.

"Maxwell! Got something for you," Gavin called as he jogged up to the man, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled out the scroll. The seal had already been broken - by Leliana's spies, of course - but they'd done a pretty good job of putting it back together.

"Letter came for you, at Skyhold."

For Varric.

Of the two satchels, one, in its entirety, was for Varric. So he left the dwarf for last, and went to find him once the rest of the deliveries were finished, before holding the entire bag out to him.

"Here, you ah - you got a lot of mail. They asked me to bring it back for you, from Skyhold."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It wasn't quite the reassurance he'd been looking for, but then, he didn't really know what he wanted. He knew, perfectly well, where his place was, next to Maxwell's. Even when they'd first met, he knew those happy few days were stolen time. The Inquisition had sort of made him forget that they weren't equals. They certainly seemed to be, here. But if they managed to keep the world from ending, then presumably everything would go back to how it was. And Maxwell was a human noble, with a birthright and a lineage and all the weight that came to both.

And Gavin... well. He didn't really know what he was, all things considered. But he was no Lord. No noble lady.

All he had was stolen time.

"Threats and guilt will do little from there," He said. "Since you have no reason to read another letter they send. I'm sorry, Maxwell. I should not have read it."

It didn't seem to help: Gavin's ears still high, his face still tight. Maxwell's heart thudded, hard, against his ribs uncertain it was all still anger on his behave... or if there wasn't something else going on.

"It's alright," he said softly, hand falling away. "You didn't know. And it's good that I do. If I know what they're planning, I can better avoid it."

"If they attempt kidnappers, we'll return them some corpses," Gavin said, very firmly, his shoulders falling as Maxwell withdrew his hand. "Don't worry about them, Maxwell. I won't let them control you, or take over your life." There was a pause, before he quickly added, "As I'm sure no one else in the Inquisition will, either. Though perhaps don't tell Josie. I wouldn't wish for you to deal with two matchmakers at the same time." It was a lame attempt at a joke, but all it did was serve to make him even more miserable.

"I'm sure the Lady Ambassadors has bigger concerns than the Treveans and their disappointment of a son," Maxwell said, an equally sad attempt at humor, his gaze dropping away as he swallowed.

The silence hung for a few moments, think and uncomfortable. Then he took a breath, determined to will it away from Gavin at least.

"Thank you," he said again. "For thinking of me. Even if it was - well. I'm glad it was you."

Maxwell was so obviously miserable that it was breaking his heart. The fury had subsided, yes, but in its wake it had left a weird sort of grief. He took a breath himself, then, reaching out to slide a hand into Maxwell's hair and ruffle it gently. He'd only meant to do that - just a small reassurance - but an impulse struck that he couldn't deny, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to the very edge of Maxwell's mouth. Almost his cheek, but not quite.

"I'm always thinking of you," He said quietly as he pulled back, ruffling Maxwell's hair a little more before letting his hand fall away. He felt even more hollow, then, but he offered a sad smile. "Come on. I'm sure we can find something to take your mind off it."

It was unexpected. So much so that for a moment, Maxwell barely reacted to the light, quick kiss - if one could really call that it. (Which he wanted to. More than anything.) Caught in the warmth that bloomed under his skin, and the all together different sort of wrench his heart took.

"Gavin--" he whispered.

There was a moment's hesitation, but only one, before he was catching at Gavin's hand before the elf could pull away completely. He held it, more tightly than he should have.

"I... would like that."

It was impossible not to notice the look on Maxwell's face, or the blush, which immediately - and finally - brought a real, honest smile to Gavin's face. He squeezed Maxwell's hand back, firmly and warmly.

"Don't look so surprised," He teased quietly, though a faint blush was making his ears warm, as well. "The Mire can't be entirely a shit hole."

Maybe it didn't mean what he hoped it did; maybe it didn't mean anything at all. But that smile, and the feel of Gavin's hand in his, feel so good. Whatever his parents meant to do, he was alright in this, one, moment.

"Maybe not," he agreed.