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Early morning sunlight filtered through the window, motes of dust drifting through muggy summer air, settling on Goose's sweat-slick skin. A thick fur blanket draped haphazardly over his sleeping form, barely covering his waist. Justice's glow cast a stark blue light over his muscled back, robust and sturdy yet infinitely fragile, infinitely mortal. Covered head to toe in scars that sung to him, faint whispers of events long past. Justice traces the stories with a finger, the lightest touch ghosting across toughened skin pulling forth the quiet, thrumming rhythm of battles long since ended.
Goose stirred, chest rumbling with a yawn, and Justice swiftly withdrew his hand, tucking it under his arm. Mortals were creatures of contradictions. Justice hadn't yet come to terms with his own. He had a body with a will and desires independent of his own desire to have them; it terrified him beyond description. Standing on the precipice of a yawning abyss that threatened to swallow him whole, pulling him in and away from his single-minded pursuit of justice. He couldn’t help but think that this is wrong. That he was right – Goose is a distraction.
Justice bit his tongue, squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. He dared not speak against Goose. Goose made Anders happy in a way Justice hadn't felt in years – he struggled to find the words to describe it. It was blunted on Justice's end, yes, but intense nonetheless, a sensation he had initially bristled at, but one he identified as love. Obsession is how Anders himself described it, but it was love by any other name. A deep, intense, ravenous ache, all-consuming, making it impossible to think. In truth, Justice couldn’t tell if that longing was solely Anders' – that perhaps he had gotten himself tangled and chewed up in a surge of raw emotion and desire.
"Is that... Justice?"
Goose had rolled onto his other side, and was inches from Justice’s face.
Justice jolted at Goose's voice. "Yes. I apologise. Anders should have warned you before we stayed the night. I can wake him up if you're uncomfortable–"
"Don't. Let him sleep." Goose murmured, noting the blue cracks that erupted on Anders' skin whenever Justice forced himself into consciousness weren't as bright, and not nearly as jagged. His glow was subtler. There was no malice here, only tentative curiosity. Something genuine, ready to reach out but afraid of the consequences.
"Of course, Hawke."
"You're naked in my bed. You can call me Goose." Goose half-snorted, an already exasperated fondness flickering in his eyes.
"Yes, I am. Goose." Instinctually, Justice let Goose’s name catch in his throat, hanging off the tip of his tongue for just a moment longer than it had to. Goose was beautiful, you didn’t need to be as sickeningly love-struck as Anders to recognise that, Justice almost wanted to reach out and touch his lips, run his fingers through Goose’s thick, dark beard, savour every morsel of texture – Anders has facial hair but nothing nearly as well-maintained and long and soft as Goose’s –
Then it hits him all at once – this moment is not meant for him. He is taking what rightfully belongs to Anders. He swallows his tongue, dares not speak, fingers curling into fists in a miraculous act of restraint. A flash of blue cuts through the moment like a knife, Justice quickly trying to calm himself and – there’s Goose still, not running and decidedly not screaming. Concern is writ into his expression.
“Justice? Is something wrong?” Goose whispers, reaching out, running a finger along one of the cracks in his skin, an act of tenderness that makes Justice’s skin crawl.
“No… No, that is not true. Yes. I apologise. It is hard to put this into words. It’s…”
“A new experience for you, I’m sure.” Goose furrows his brows, calloused fingertips still caressing Justice’s cheek.
He’s not sure why he likes it. He should pull away, but he isn’t, and it feels good. Goose is touching him, and he’s not afraid, he never is. Goose is a marvel of a mortal, a good man; at least to Justice, both their purposes aligned in a way that made his very soul sing with joy. He commanded respect and gave it in turn to the deserving. He would not stand for injustice – not a mage, yet using his position to aid the mages in any way he could. And so full of stories that Justice desperately wished he could hear more of, painting such a beautiful picture of a world so alien to him, so much so that he found he was often pulling himself closer to the surface of Anders’ mind just to listen.
“That is true.” Justice nodded slightly, afraid to move so much that Anders would wake. This moment – he wanted it to last longer. He had never been able to talk to Goose at length like this, and the decidedly not spirit-like curiosity that veered Justice off his course and drew him in wanted more than he should take.
Goose pursed his lips, considering his words carefully. As Goose pulled his hand away, Justice almost wanted to reach out and put it back where it was, where it belonged, yet he remained frozen in place and unable to do more than clench his fist tighter into a ball.
Then Goose sighs. Justice cannot read it, and it sends a rush of what he can only describe as fear through his body.
“Do you want this to happen? Anders and I?”
“I will not stop you. It is not my place.” Justice stated plainly.
“Not what I asked. Do you want this to happen?” Goose grunted, the emphasis forcing the question to click in Justice’s mind.
“That… I cannot answer that – not yet. I do not wish to obstruct Anders’ happiness. It would not be right.” Justice whispered. “However, I trust you. There is no one in this world or any other I trust more than you.”
Trust. That was all he could call it. Whatever other emotions Justice had were far too entangled with each other; he was afraid that if he pulled on the memories he’d choke himself out. But Goose was a good man, and Anders loved him. Goose didn’t know that yet, didn’t know that Justice could have stopped this dead in its tracks before it had even started. He hadn’t quite figured out how to want yet but he knew with striking clarity that he wanted Anders to have this, his own opinion be damned.
A weak, awkward smile spread across Justice’s face – Goose seemed almost in awe at it. Goose shifted back onto his back, a hand on his face obscuring his own uncharacteristic little smirk that Justice could eye through the cracks of his fingers.
“...Thank you, Justice. I’m glad we’re alike.”
“That we are, Goose.” Justice hummed, letting his eyes flutter closed again. Justice had not thought himself capable of happiness; perhaps he still wasn’t, but he could call himself content enough now to pull back from Anders’ mind and let him gradually stir into consciousness.