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It wasn't the first time Zevran had woken up with a muscular arm around his waist, his body moving with the gentle rise and fall of someone else's breath.
What was new was that the arm around him belonged to the potential future king of Ferelden, a man who was currently snoring and drooling into his hair.
Zevran took a moment to consider his next move carefully. Alistair had made it clear that he didn't trust him. The man had spent at least half of the walk through the forest that day complaining about having to share a tent with him. Elena had laughed and joked with Alistair about it, but stood firm. She and Leliana would be in one tent, Alistair and Zevran in the other. She claimed it was because of modesty, but there was nothing modest about the way the two women looked at each other when they thought no one was looking.
"Why am I the one who has to share with the assassin?" Alistair had spat out the last word as if he had been talking about a poisonous snake. "Why do we have to share tents at all?"
Elena rolled her eyes and tossed a roll to the other Warden. "If we bring another tent, someone has to carry it. Are you going to volunteer?"
"I already carry the tents," he grumbled. "What if he tries to, I don't know, do assassin-y things while I'm sleeping?"
Zevran had burst out laughing at that. "Assassin-y things? It is called assassination, my dear Warden, and I have no intention of doing any such thing." Zevran winked at him. "At any rate, it is I who should be concerned about sleeping next to you. I imagine you snore quite terribly."
"I do not," Alistair complained, but there wasn't much conviction behind it. "I don't think I do, anyway."
Zevran could now confirm that the man did, in fact, snore. It was very loud in his ear, but he couldn't bring himself to move his head. If he did, Alistair would wake. He would realize that he was holding Zevran like he would hold a lover, and he would leave.
He didn't want to lose the strong arms that held him. It reminded him of when he had slept in Taliesen's arms, although Alistair was much bulkier than his former lover had been. Zevran felt his heart ache when he thought of Taliesen. He didn't know if he would ever see him again.
For now, he needed to concentrate on the problem at hand: He was being pinned down, quite effectively, by a remarkably heavy arm. He moved his own arm up, patting the back of Alistair's hand. "Alistair," he cooed softly, "It's time to wake up."
Alistair jerked awake suddenly, his arm flying back and away from Zevran with a speed that even the rogue found impressive. "Hungh!" Alistair grunted, then skittered back away on his elbows, like a crab. Zevran couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "What do you think you're doing?"
Zevran blinked in confusion, amused by the accusation. "Me? I am not the one who latched onto their tentmate in the night. What are you doing, hmm?"
Alistair looked at him, uncomprehending, for several sleepy seconds. He then frowned, and his cheeks began to turn pink. "Nothing. I wasn't doing anything."
"Ah. So your arm acted all by itself, did it? An arm with a mind of its own?" Zevran waggled an eyebrow at him. "Are you perhaps used to sleeping with a toy that you hug just so? Or one of your Ferelden hounds?"
Alistair pulled himself up into a sitting position and groped around for his shirt, pulling it over his head with a drawn-out groan. "We're going to stop talking about this, now."
"Maybe you are," Zevran countered. "I'm perfectly happy to keep discussing the matter."
"I must have thought you were someone else in my sleep. You can't blame me for what happens while I'm unconscious," Alistair protested.
"I don't blame you at all," Zevran told him, his teasing tone replaced with sincerity. "You have strong, warm arms. I have woken up in far worse places, I assure you."
The larger man was fully blushing at this point. He looked away to find the rest of his armor. "Yes, well…we don't need to tell the women about this, do we?"
Zevran shook his head as he began to put on his own armor. "Not if you do not wish to do so, no."
Alistair nodded, satisfied. "Thank you," he said quietly. He looked once more at Zevran before he walked out of the tent.
Alistair watched Zevran walk the path ahead of them, scanning the ground and the trees for traps and dangers. Glancing between the man ahead and the woman walking beside him, he tried to convince himself that he had been thinking of her in the night. He must have been, right? They were both blonde and slender. It made perfect sense that his sleep-addled brain had confused one for the other. He didn't dwell on the fact that Elena was half a head taller than the elf, with small rounded ears instead of pointed ones.
"Alistair, will you please tell me what exactly is going on?" Elena asked firmly, her arms crossed. "Do you have some sort of problem with Zevran?"
"Who, the assassin you picked up like a stray cat after he tried to kill us?" Alistair scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "Yes, I obviously have a problem with Zevran."
Elena rolled her eyes and pushed a branch out of her way with her staff. "I meant a new problem. You would at least talk to him yesterday; now it's like you're pretending he doesn't exist."
Alistair frowned and kicked a rock that was in the path. "Well. Maybe I just don't want to talk to him." He turned his attention to Elena. "What about you, hmm? You and Leliana seem to be getting very cozy."
Elena smiled at the other warden, but shook her head gravely. "I don't kiss and tell, Alistair."
Alistair waggled his eyebrows at her. "So there was kissing, then?" She shoved him playfully, and Alistair grabbed his side, feigning injury. "You've wounded me," he complained.
She rolled her eyes and kissed her hand, then pressed it to the 'wound'. There was nothing romantic about it; indeed, it was the kind of thing one would do to placate a small and whiny child. They walked in silence for a while, listening for the sounds of danger in the woods around them.
He caught sight of Zevran and Leliana around a bend in the path ahead, partially obscured by trees as they searched the ground for traps. Zevran's blonde hair caught the light, and Alistair couldn't help but think that the man was beautiful. He tried to push the thought away. What he had been feeling ever since he'd woken up that morning didn't make any sense at all, did it? "Can I ask you a personal question, Elena?"
"As long as it isn't about my love life," she told him, smirking.
"It is," he said sheepishly. "In a way, anyhow. I was wondering, with you and Leliana…" He trailed off, withering a little under Elena's gaze. "How did you know you liked women?"
She blinked, clearly having expected him to ask about something else entirely. "Oh, well, I suppose I figured it out fairly young. You know how it is in the Circle; they put all the male apprentices in one part of the tower and the female ones in another." She smirked. "Let's just say I was never interested in sneaking across the hall the way some of my friends did."
Alistair nodded, trying his best to process what she was telling him. "So you've never…you only…" He trailed off, grimacing at the thought of what he had been about to ask. "I shouldn't be asking this…maker, please just forget I said anything."
Elena studied him carefully for a long moment, then began to speak. "Alistair, we're fighting for our lives and the lives of those around us every minute of every day. Whatever safety or comfort you can find, in a friend, in a lover…it's one of the only things that can keep it all from feeling impossible. Don't push away whatever you're feeling just because it comes from somewhere unexpected."
He nodded, then fidgeted uncomfortably as they walked. He didn't know what he was feeling, not really, but he was sure it wouldn't lead anywhere good. Besides being a man, Zevran was an assassin who had been sent to kill them. Could he really ever find any safety and comfort in someone like that?
Alistair was almost relieved to hear Zevran's voice raised in warning, calling out traps on the road ahead. He unsheathed his sword and ran to catch up to the two rogues, grateful for the distraction from the jumbled thoughts in his head.
As much as he tried to push everything else aside, there was one fact about the night before that he simply couldn't deny: He had not slept that well since before his Joining. For the first time in months, he had not been woken up by a nightmare or noises in the night. He had not spent restless hours tossing and turning after trying, and failing, to get back to sleep.
With Zevran in his arms, he had slept soundly.
That night, the elf seemed to be staring across the fire at Alistair with something like concern on his face. When Alistair met his eyes, the expression changed back to his usual cocky grin. "What is it?" Alistair asked warily.
"I did not think you were speaking to me today, Warden," Zevran commented. "This is the first you've said to me since we woke, you know, and I was merely contemplating how peaceful the day has been."
"Oh, very funny, Zev," Alistair said dryly, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl and preparing to rise. "I'll just go to my tent, then, and leave you to your peace and quiet."
Zevran's grin changed into a different kind of smile, something softer, and he placed his own empty bowl down on the log next to him. "That won't be necessary, my friend…peace can be so boring, after all," he quipped, leaning back to stretch his legs out in front of him. "I think we both prefer a bit of excitement, don't you agree?"
Maker, talking to the elf was like trying to run through a room full of traps without losing a foot. He wasn't sure if there was any safe way to answer that question. "I…I suppose that's true enough," he conceded as he settled back onto his own log, frowning. "We ought to talk about our…sleeping arrangements," he began, hating that he could feel the tops of his ears starting to turn red with embarrassment.
"You needn't trouble yourself, Alistair," Zevran told him lightly. "I'm planning to take the first watch tonight. By the time I return to the tent, you will be asleep. I will settle over there, in the corner," he said, pointing to the tent, "and you can remain on the bedroll."
Alistair blinked as he considered the elf's plan. The tent was too small to set out two bedrolls with any distance between them. "You would rather sleep on the floor?" He blurted, only barely managing to stop the rest of the sentence escaping. You would rather sleep on the floor than share with me?
From the twinkle in the elf's eyes, Alistair got the feeling that Zevran knew what he was thinking even though he hadn't said it. "That is, I mean…that won't be necessary. I probably won't even notice you coming in the tent."
Zevran's raised eyebrow made Alistair's own shoot up his face, realizing what he said. "Andraste's…you know that isn't what I meant." He was fully red now, and he glowered at the elf. "I hate you, do you know that?"
"I haven't said anything," Zevran pointed out with an amused smile on his face. "You are getting all hot and flustered without me having to say a word. It's a very impressive display, I hope you know this."
"I…" Alistair started to speak, but he trailed off as he glanced nervously at the tent the two women shared. Maker, he was glad they had already retired there and weren't out by the fire to witness his bumbling. Hopefully they were asleep already, or at least otherwise occupied. Belatedly, he realized thinking of the two beautiful women in bed together probably wasn't going to help his situation. He stood up, brushing his hands off on his trousers, and indicated their own tent. "I should go to bed. I hope the watch is…uneventful."
As he headed off to attempt to sleep, he tried to avoid Zevran's amused expression. He didn't miss the elf's soft words, though, even though they were spoken to his retreating back. "Good night, my dear Warden."
Zevran sighed deeply as he realized that he was, once again, pinned under Alistair's arm. Even worse, the larger man was pressed against his back.
Reaching out to pat Alistair's hand again, he was bracing for the other man to jump and crawl away as he had the previous night. "Alistair," he whispered. "Wake up, my friend."
He felt the man stir behind him, and the arm tightened around his waist. "Zev," Alistair mumbled sleepily. "S'all right?"
The question sent Zevran's mind reeling. The warden actually knew that it was him, and he wasn't pulling away. "Yes, Alistair, everything is all right. Go back to sleep."
"Mmmkay," Alistair agreed, tucking his chin over Zevran's head. "I sleep better with you here."
Zevran let out a long breath as he relaxed back into the Warden's arms. They would have to talk about this in the morning, but for now, he was content.