Chapter Text
“Alistair, I … we need to talk.”
A weight settled in his stomach as soon as those words registered. Was she breaking up with him? Had he done something wrong? Alistair frantically searched his memory, trying to run through anything he might have done or said or … not said. That might explain the weird behavior, maybe. “Al … alright,” he started slowly, letting her pull him toward the couch. “What … what about?”
Why did he look so worried? She was just asking … to …. Regan quickly realized just how what she said could … and probably did sound, and that was absolutely not how she meant it. “It’s ok, Alistair. This isn’t that kind of conversation,” she laughed, reaching over to take his hand. “I mean, it’s important, but it’s not bad, I don’t think.” Her words started coming faster, starting to run together as she tried to figure out how to actually start. “I mean, it could be bad, I guess, depending on your point of view and how you feel about the whole idea in the long run, but the more I think about it the more I don’t think it’s necessarily bad, but I didn’t want to make the decision solely by myself because it affects you too and I just didn’t know how to bring it up and ….”
He shouldn’t have done it; he should be paying attention. But while he was listening to her ramble, Alistair’s mind drifted back to the conversation with Zevran just before he left his shift that night.
--- earlier that evening, at the mall ---
“You say her mood has been erratic lately?” Zevran leaned against the wall as Alistair finished up the final report for the evening. His shift had technically ended an hour ago, but he had stuck around to keep his friend company.
Alistair nodded, frowning as he finally saved the last incident report and logged off the security computer. “Yeah, but I mean, it could be work-stress. And Morrigan said she thought she saw Vaughn near the apartments again, so ….” He trailed off, not wanting to give the idea of Vaughn Kendalls showing up again another thought.
“And has she been, say, hungrier than usual lately, or wanting strange foods?” Zevran idly thrummed his fingers against the wall as he thought. Surely Alistair was just missing the possibility because he was too close to it, right?
“Some days, I guess.” Alistair looked over at his friend, confused. “Usually just for snacky things, nothing out of the ordinary, though.” Where was Zevran going with this? Asking about mood swings and appetite? Wait a second; was he really thinking …?
Zevran nodded thoughtfully, shoving away from the wall to rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tell me, my friend; when was the last time you two were … “
“Were … what?”
A laughing sigh accompanied a shake of his head. “Were intimate, dear Alistair. When was the last time you and our lovely Regan had ---?” He felt Alistair’s shoulders stiffen, waiting patiently. “Could she be pregnant?”
When had they … what? Alistair coughed, choking on absolutely nothing as Zevran’s question registered. “I … we … I mean we ….” He lost himself in a coughing fit again before he was finally able to actually give an answer. “We haven’t actually done that yet.” He knew that would come as a surprise to his friend, but they’d agreed early on to take things at their own pace. It didn’t matter what their friends thought, or how they’d handled things in past relationships. They wanted to be comfortable.
--- back in the present ---
“I mean, with a new addition coming we’re going to have to have more space, and really a yard would be helpful so there’s an actual place to play without worrying about cars or random strangers or anything. And I’m rambling to the point you’ve zoned out.” Regan stopped talking, looking down at her hands in her lap.
New addition? There was a new addition coming? Had Zevran been right? Was she pregnant? If she was, who was the father? He couldn’t be, unless there was a way for it to happen by dreams alone. Had she cheated on him? No, that … she wouldn’t. There had been too many times where they’d each thought that of the other and every time it had been a misunderstanding. He would notjump to that conclusion again … not without proof. “New addition?” he finally choked out, shaking his head as if to jump-start his brain. “What new addition?”
Had he seriously forgotten? He’d been so excited when she’d brought up the possibility before. And now he’d forgotten? She couldn’t help but laugh. “You really don’t remember?” she asked, finally looking back over at him, eyes twinkling.
This was something he was supposed to remember? Had she mentioned something coming recently? Something alive? “I … well, I don’t ....” Alistair sighed, shaking his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
“Coming home from Dennet’s farm …” she prompted with a smile.
Coming home from …? Wait, how long ago had that been? A couple months now? They had gone to Dennet’s farm for Cullen’s name day gift. He remembered that much. And they had had to go to the farm because Cullen’s gift had been … what? “That’s where Cullen got Baron,” Alistair murmured, looking thoughtful. He watched her nod expectantly, obviously thinking he was only seconds away from figuring it out. “There was paperwork; you said something about … breeding Jasper.” His recollection started out slow, but the answer soon shot into his mind. “The puppy!” he exclaimed, nearly smacking himself in the forehead. How could he have forgotten?
She laughed, reaching over to pat his arm gently. “Yup, your mabari puppy.”
“OK, so … what did we need to talk about,” Alistair asked, still a bit confused. “What to name it? Who is going to be on puppy-duty at night?”
Regan grinned, just shaking her head lightly. “Well, we do need to discuss at least that last one, but that wasn’t what I meant.” She grabbed a stack of papers on the table and passed them over. “The apartment isn’t going to be big enough for a puppy,” she started. “So I was thinking we … might want to look into getting a house? Or, I guess that I needed to start looking for a house, and I hope you’d move with me?”
Move. A house. “That … makes sense,” he answered slowly, absentmindedly flipping through what turned out to be a stack of real estate listings. A house with her. Why did that thought send butterflies to his stomach … good butterflies. “Of course I want to move with you; why in the Maker’s name wouldn’t I?” How long had she been thinking about this … worrying about this? That might explain why she’d been behaving oddly, right? And to think Zevran had him worried that she might have been cheating. “I assume this stack of papers in my lap means you’ve at least started looking without me?”
She nodded sheepishly, not quite able to meet his gaze. “Trev and I … mostly looked in Denerim, but there are a couple in Redcliff, Highever, and Amaranthine, just for comparison.” She didn’t really want to leave Denerim; she’d grown comfortable … even happy … here. If they did leave, Alistair would likely have to find a new job; a commute from any of the nearby cities would be rough given his sporadic schedule. “They’re looking to move as well; the landlord is apparently less than thrilled that yet another dog and is threatening to raise their rent.”
“Must be Orlesian,” Alistair laughed, shaking his head. How anyone from Ferelden could be so against mabari, he didn’t know. And Baron was an angel, even compared to Jasper, especially for the amount of time that Cullen had him. “Guess that means he won’t be thrilled when we add a puppy, huh?”
Regan nodded with a faint smile. “I mean, the paperwork I supplied the landlord covers a puppy in training, since Jasper is getting up in years, but it’s kind of vague and if he really wanted to be a jerk, he could fight it.” She reached over to skritch behind Jasper’s ears. “I’d rather not push our luck though, and really, I kind of miss having an actual yard for Jas to run in.”
“Well,” Alistair prompted, holding up the stack of listings, “Let’s get hunting. How much time do we have?”
“Dennett says the bitch he wants to breed should be ready to go next month.” Regan grabbed her planner from the table next to the couch. She flipped through, until …. “So, if the breeding takes, I’m guessing we have … 4 months or so.” She counted silently on her fingers to double check her math while Alistair flipped through the papers in front of him.
Four months? That didn’t give them a lot of time to move, but if they were lucky, they could manage. He started reading the notes on a promising-looking listing. The price wasn’t outrageous, and the yard was fenced. He passed it over. “What about this one?”