Chapter Text
The cats on campus always made him think of poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot. The tabby most likely didn’t feel the heartbreak as much as Anders did whenever he had to leave at the beginning of each new semester, but he liked to believe the cat missed kneading at his chest and sleeping on his face as much as he missed the clothing full of cat hair. There was always a sort of emptiness he felt after the first several washes in the dorm’s laundromat when all the fur was finally washed away, with no cat to shed on them for the months to come. It had Anders wishing he could pluck one of the strays from the street and remind them what it was like to be full and groomed.
There were rules against pets, but he could justify breaking them if he somehow applied the vague teachings from his introductory humanity classes to the situation. Ethics were all about keeping things fair and watching the thin mongrels dart between car tires definitely wasn’t fair. Anders was prepared to fight to keep one, too, if it wasn’t for his dorm’s resident advisor watching his every move. He’d only been trying to explain to the fellow residents in the hall that not everyone was lucky enough to nab afternoon classes and could thus stay up well into the night but somehow his complaints were more of a disturbance of the peace than the actual wall-thumping bass of the music. Fenris had been determined to catch him in the act of…anything, really, since, whether it be leaving his door ajar when he left for the vending machine after forgetting diner hours or leaving the lights of his car on in the parking lot when he returned from his part time job as a nurse’s aid at the local hospital.
It wasn’t high school – the man couldn’t right him up and send him to the dean with a pink slip – but it was frustrating at the least. The head of the housing department was taking notice, and though she Hawke was close to the woman, there was only so much the man could convince the stubborn cow of a red head to leave him alone when her associates only kept complaining of his actions.
He was content enough with pocketing cartons of milk from the cafeteria on campus and leaving dishes out on the less used paths for the strays to find. Anders may not have been able to keep his eye on them or make sure they were healthy, but he could try his best to feed them. There was always a warmth in his stomach when he returned the next free night to the bowls to find them empty and though there were other animals around the sparse patches of trees on campus, it was more rewarding to believe the cats were making use of it.
Friday was one of his free nights – Dr. Justice made sure not to have any classes before the weekend for his students to have the time they needed for themselves, though they all collectively agreed he suggesting they do their assigned thesis rather than relax, and it was more often he was called to the hospital Saturday mornings than Fridays for the aftermath of Friday drinks. The dishes were empty when he’d checked earlier in the morning on his way to his social theory class and he was running out of milk in the dorm room.
“Looking a lost in thought – all good things, right,” Hawke drawled, and Anders nearly dropped the wrap in his hands. Garrett laughed and took a hold of his hands to steady them before shifting over as the line to the register shortened. The refrigerators were just before them and the man turned to position himself between the registers and the fridges. Anders quickly pulled a carton of milk out and stuffed it in his sweatpants.
“Thanks, love,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers along Hawke’s arm. Condensation from the carton left his hand cold and goosebumps rose over Hawke’s wrist up to his elbows.
“Don’t be out too long. You’ve been out of the room for so long. It’s been such a hard day and seeing you makes it so much better.” Anders shook his head at the wide grin he was flashed.
“It’ll last longer if you keep that up,” he said, pushing him forward. Hawke reeled and stumbled back a step but he laughed through it and Anders paid for his meal – minus the hidden milk – and followed him around the seating area until he spotted the table Hawke had marked. Anders paused.
It was never hard to tell which table the man was at. Or, more correctly, it was never hard to hear where he was. Varric, correctly the creative writing major, though quiet when telling his stories, left everyone near laughing. He was a good man, a good friend, and as much as Anders liked him there was more to dissuade him from joining his friend than could convince him to stay. The residential department head, Aveline, was with them, most likely following Hawke after a class in the gym on some kind of exercise the fitness majors were taught, and Anders was not up to her ignoring her pointed looks today. Merrill, sweet as she was, just rubbed him the wrong way. She saw the good in everyone, and it was that, her inability to see the injustices of the world, that he couldn’t stand. Any debate was always put into her favor to make her feel better and he was left with an incredulous frown and an apologetic look from Hawke.
“I think I’ll eat on my way back to the room,” Anders called, already turning away. “I’ll finish my…work and we’ll talk about your long, hard day.” He didn’t wait for Garrett to protest and strode out towards the door already planning an excuse for when it was brought up later that night.
“That’s a promise,” he heard Hawke shout back, and Anders ducked his head, feeling his face heat to the tips of his ears, and shouldered his way out of the building followed by at least one whistle.
The night air was blissfully cool on his flushed face and it felt better in his lungs on the heavy inhale. It had been a long week, the days stretching out between classes and the readings and papers each were assigned along with the thesis he had to submit at the end of the semester. It was difficult to get the work done when most of his free time was spent giving check-ups. It was a nice change of pace to be able to simply walk down the sidewalk without a destination or deadline in mind.
Anders turned from the well-lit path back to the dorms in favor of a lesser traveled one. The concrete was cracked in some places and most of the lamp posts had burned out, but despite the chilling atmosphere Anders was calm as he approached the bend. He could have told himself it was because of the hint of autumn cooling the blazing heat of summer at last or the clear night that made the freedom of the weekend fell all that more attainable, but it was the sight of the bowl and the cats that prowled around it that had the smile growing against his face.
“I’m sorry I made you wait,” Anders mumbled, but a stray still scampered off at the sound until he was crouching down and reaching into his sweatpants. Most of the cats had learned the routine by now – the man would come, he would talk meaningless words and pour milk, and they’d be free to enjoy it for the next few days until he returned. They let him stretch him a hand out to scratch at their matted fur from a safe distance. Anders had learned as well, which ones were okay with contact and which would hiss, and he noticed the new strays with a tug at his heart. “It’s been a little though finding time,” he continued to explain, nails scratching at one of the more friendly strays – an orange tom that made him think of his first kitten, Mr. Wiggums. He hesitated, thinking of what awaited him when he was finished here, and the cat meowed in protest at the lack of attention and he cleared his throat with a chuckle. “Right. Shouldn’t make you wait any longer.”
The carton of milk came out and even the wariest of the strays neared the bowl. Anders felt his smile straighten out at the pace in which the bowl emptied and he made a note to try to fit another cartoon in his pockets next time. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t help all of them.
“Next time,” Anders promised, trying his best to grin even if the animals couldn’t understand. He stood, wincing at the cracks in his knees, and nearly tripped over himself when he turned around. A yowl interrupted his own surprised shout and he glanced down to find an unfamiliar stray wrapping itself around his ankles.
That was…strange. The newest of the cats were always too wary to approach until they found he would bring food with time. Not once, not even the first few that learned of the milk put out for them, would near until weeks later. Anders crouched down again, balancing on the balls of his feet, and trailed his fingers lightly down the cat’s back. The animals responded instantly with a soft meow and an arch of its spine and Anders dared to add more pressure, carding his hand through thick fur that was…not as matted as the others. His mouth twisted.
He checked for a collar, hoping that the animals had just gotten out and not that someone had abandoned him but after a light check around its neck he found nothing that suggested an indoor cat, but the soft fur still had him wondering if its owner was looking for it.
The cat didn’t protest when Anders picked it up and he lifted it to his face, looking once more for any signs of where it had come from. He couldn’t leave such a creature to fend for itself in a world it knew nothing of. It wouldn’t be right. It definitely wasn’t his selfish desires to be able to hold something to precious.
Garrett’s night was about to get a little longer.