Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Excerpts from comments under the last video posted by Ellana El, ‘the Inquisitor’, entitled “Thank you all and goodbye, for now”

This sucks. We can’t ever have nice things.

El, I’ve been a faithful reader and viewer for the last four years, I hope you know how much your channel meant to many of us! Please, don’t let the haters get you down. I get that you need to prioritize your mental health. If you ever want to get back to streaming or podcasting, I’ll still be here and I’m sure there’s lots of us who feel the same, but if you don’t, I’m grateful for all the posts. Please, pet Keeper from me, she’s always been my fave.

Guys, this is a cry for attention. She’ll burn through the money she made monetizing and be back in three months tops.

Noooooooooo. I can’t believe it. I loved her deep dive into female characters in graphic novels.

literally no one cares. This is not an airport, no need to announce your departure.

Dude, this is Inky’s channel. >You< wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care, and I for one will miss El’s videoessays.

Well, that might save Varric’s Kirkwall-to-wall podcast from sucking more than it already does. She was literally the worst guest.

I thought she looked a little chubby lately, if she’s pregnant, I called it first.

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she’s probably preggers & giving up the cats & doesn’t want to deal with (DESERVED) criticism.

El, I’m so sorry to hear all that, and I wish you the best for the future. Take care.

Maybe she got some kind of ghostwriting deal.

I cant believe that you do this to us you stupid cow

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Oh wow, and you wonder why she’s had enough. Is there a mod here?

Give me a break, she’s probably doing rhinoplasty or sth and she’ll be back in two months

This was my favourite channel :( Your essay on cats in movies was so awesome I was always hoping you’d do a second one on dogs :(

Ehh, I could tell she wasn’t this much into it anymore, the latest vids were kind of boring. D’you guys recommend sth similar? I liked the funny stuff better, not when she was complaining.

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Excerpts from comments under the so-called “Fen’Harel Manifesto”

So let me get this straight. When Evanuris hyped their services for being userbase friendly, free for all and secure, this was all just a prelude to a money grab. And also selling all our info. Wish I could say I was surprised.

I deleted all of my data but that’s probably too little too late.

It’s BS that the Veil is going to save us. They’ll just find a way around it.

Frankly, this guy sounds more like a crank, or at best, a disgruntled employee. Sure, we can assume the potential capability of the voice-activated apps to record sound is a security breach, but that does not necessarily mean it was ever going to be implemented outside of beta tests.

Honestly? Calling them “benign overlords” sounds way too kind for those a$$holes.

>>Honestly? Calling them “benign overlords” sounds way too kind for those a$$holes.

you do realise that was sarcasm, right?

I knew it was suspicious that Mythal, who was the face of the previous launch, has been conspicuously absent from recent announcements and denials. An NDA would explain why she’s not speaking out.

Tbh the way they are scrambling rn makes perfect sense in this context. First they’re whining about a small security breach, now it’s supposed to be an organized cyber attack. Things aren’t adding up.

You seem to be missing the forest for the trees—the leaked code would have enabled third-party actors to do much more than just activate the microphones and cameras in case of sensitive trigger words. It would have made mass surveillance that much easier, which is presumably why Evanuris even had those gov contracts, but the implications could have been far broader.

This kind of data could be used to track everything, from your shopping habits to your health. It could have been sold to employers, insurance companies, advertisers.

That’s not even the worst. There’s the eye tracking, too, and with the new algorithms, the goals could be to design the scroll to be maximally addictive. You think it’s bad now, imagine a society of thoughtless drones hooked on dopamine, willing to pay through the nose for the fix of this sweet sweet content.

I assume Fen’Harel was on the payroll by the competition (Forgotten Ones, probably) but it’s still fortunate that he published the evidence. I hope Evanuris gets shuttered and sold for parts.

Is it just me or have you noticed the net being slower in general since the implementation of the Veil? I thought this was only supposed to prevent the social media apps from uploading user data without permission. Instead I have to constantly click through the permissions, reject the tracking cookies, and everything seems slow as shit. The regulators going overboard as usual.

I don’t know that I’d consider that overboard. Frankly, I think the fine they made the Evanuris pay was laughable. And it looks like the only reason the management will even see the inside of the courtroom is because of the cover-up.

It’s always the cover-up.

My sister was a little paranoid in the first place, but after this broke she went completely offline. She barely wants to talk to me on the phone. Tbt I would rather not know about this. I mean, I think the code would have been bad, but the Veil, well, it really made some people go off the rails. Have you guys heard of that girl who tried to blow up a server facility?

I heard it was a guy.

It’s probably a collective. This Fen’Harel guy, too. No way it’s one person.

It’s all so that they can introduce new laws and make everything even shittier for the average user.

Who is they?

Guys, the conspiracy theories thread is next door. Please, stay on topic.

Chapter Text

Ellana Lavellan was deleting all the apps, as soon as she got home. She was going to die a spinster—did people still say spinster?—surrounded by her fifteen cats, to whom she would leave her surely sizeable fortune. 

“You cannot adopt twelve more cats,” said Cassandra, playing the voice of reason. 

It had started to snow, and Ellana’s gloves, scarf and shoes—especially shoes—were not meant to provide true protection from the elements. She was walking fast, talking on the phone, and fuming. The fuming made her a little warmer, but not precisely warm. The headphones made it possible for her to keep her hands in her pockets, but she was not quite sure if that was wise, given the aforementioned shoes and the high possibility of slipping on the slush that had quickly covered the streets.

“I know,” said Ellana. “Three is the absolute maximum I can carry out on my own in case of a fire. I’m only getting the other twelve once I’m rich enough to have a mansion with a catastrophe-proof safe room.”

“Was the date really that bad?” asked Cassandra. “What did she even do?”

“Complained about everything. Changed her mind about her order three times. Suggested I shouldn’t have ‘given up on my career’. Made a face when I mentioned I had three cats.”

Cassandra had put her on speaker, and judging from the sounds, was being productive in some way that involved clinking. “Doesn’t it specifically say you have three cats in your profile?” She knew that it did, because she had previously suggested moving it to the later part of the profile, rather than making it the lead.

Ellana sighed. “I also mentioned it approximately five thousand times in the content produced for the sake of my quote-unquote career, which my date had apparently once followed.”

Cassandra tsked. “Well, clearly, this wasn’t meant to be.” 

“You think. I’m meant to live with fifteen cats.”

Unfortunately for Ellana, the universe was clearly listening to her making that announcement, but not paying attention to the schedule she had given, because as soon as she said that, she almost stepped on a cat.

There was a cat in front of her, and it was shivering.

“Fuck. Cassandra, fuck.”

“What?” asked Cassandra, instantly alarmed.

“There’s a cat. Here. In the street. Oh no, it’s meowing.”

“Ellana, listen to me. Do not pick the cat up.”

Ellana dropped to her haunches and looked closer at the cat. She couldn’t quite tell the exact shade of its fur in the dark, but it had huge eyes, fluffed up fur, and looked distinctly unhappy. Then it headbutted her, rubbing its head against Ellana’s chest insistently, the way cats did when they knew their human friend was about to take care of all their problems. 

“Fuck. Cassandra, this cat looks lost.”

“You don’t know that. A lot of people still let their cats out,” said Cassandra, who had been at the receiving end of Ellana’s lectures on the subject for more than half a decade now. “Does it have a collar?”

“No,” said Ellana. “But it looks cold.” It was trying to climb either into Ellana’s lap or possibly under her coat. It kept purring and shivering at the same time. She was fucked. So, so fucked. “I have to grab her. She’s really small. She could freeze to death.” Probably not instantly, but the temperature dropped a lot during the night, and the cat seemed young. Possibly malnourished.

“Should I look up some numbers? What about those friends of yours who used to collect cats off the street, you told me about them… last year?”

“They’re out of town,” Ellana replied. “I think. Fuck. What if I locked her in my bathroom for the night?”

“Your cats won’t like it,” Cassandra said, reasonably. “Look, maybe the cat has a chip?”

“Fucking unlikely. And the only thing open where they could even check is the super expensive 24/7 clinic, and you know they won’t keep her overnight anyway unless I pay the hospital rate.”

“Is it a her?”

“I don’t know. Feels like a her. I don’t know, Cassandra, I will have more options tomorrow, but she has to stay somewhere tonight.”

“What about the animal shelter?” asked Cassandra in a voice that clearly knew the answer to that was going to be a negative, and that was if the shelter even picked up the phone, at fifteen to ten pm, on a Friday.

The cat headbutted her again, and gave her an expectant look.

“Fuck,” said Ellana again. At this rate, the cat was going to assume this was her name. “I’ll try to look around. Can you call the other place for me? You know, the trap-neuter-and-release people from Markham, I follow the group.” Ellana’s hands were partly full of the cat, and fully shaking, so getting her phone out of her bag, looking up a number and dialling it was not about to happen.

Cassandra was ever a problem-solver. “Sure. I’ll call you back in ten.”

“Thanks.”

This was shitty. If her apartment was any bigger, or if her first-gotten cat, Da’len, was any less nervous, this would be a no-brainer. Store the stray in the bathroom for the night, find a vet or a rescue group in the morning, check for a chip, make social media announcements, fail to identify the original owner, fail to find a new owner, surreptitiously familiarize the cat with her own herd, have four cats. But her apartment was tiny, Da’len did this thing where he’d get eye infections from stress, and Hunter and Keeper required careful socialization, and she had not budgeted for a fourth cat, not now that she’d finally gone back to stupid school to get her stupid degree. 

She wasn’t going to cry. She was an adult person and just because she’d had a shitty day, she wasn’t going to cry. Her shoulders shook a little, but that was from the weight of the cat, and maybe from her shivering. Ellana stroked the cat’s head and the little thing started to purr even louder, only to start sneezing rather dramatically. Well, so much for the cat being feral, or not being lost.

And if she wasn’t quite lost, the person who would let a skinny sneezing cat out in the snow did not deserve to keep her anyway.

“Excuse me, do you need any help?”

Ellana looked up, and had to blink snowflakes out of her eyes before she could see anything. A man had stopped a couple of steps away and was looking at her intently. “Do you know this cat?” she asked. Which was probably a nonsensical question, but it was also the first thing that came to her mind.

He crouched down next to her, considerately enough at just the right angle from her as to provide a much appreciated windbreak. The cat had managed to sneeze snot down her coat, and was currently very much in the process of clinging to her lap. 

“I’m afraid I don’t, no,” he replied.

***

“Excuse me, do you need any help?”

Solas knew it was a bad idea even as he was asking the question. The strangled sound he’d heard came from the cat he only noticed when the first words were already out of his mouth, not the person who was currently handling the cat, like he’d assumed. He really shouldn’t be getting involved.

The person—a girl—a young woman—raised her head, and he saw the world's most beautiful eyes blinking to focus at him.

“Do you know this cat?” she asked. 

He crouched to get a better look at the cat, which was truly nonsensical, because he didn’t know any cats. The cat was small, dark, and fluffy, and gave him an entirely baffled look.

“I’m afraid I don’t, no,” he said.

The woman nodded. “Yeah. Me neither. She’s clearly lost, and needs someplace to sleep for the night, and I’d take her in, but I already have cats of my own, and they wouldn’t like the company.”

It was a lot of information for this short a conversation. Solas reviewed what little he knew about rescuing animals off city streets, and arrived at, “Would there be a shelter able to help?”

“Not at this time of night,” she replied. She was stroking the cat, who was now purring loud enough for Solas to hear, even in the wind. “I mean, there’s probably someone or someplace, but I don’t know where to take her now, not off the top of my head.”

A reasonable person would have looked for a way to end the conversation at that point. Solas asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Before she had the chance to respond, her pocket buzzed loudly. She tried to grab her phone without dislodging the cat, and then realized the futility of the attempt. “I don’t want her to run off into the street,” she said. “Sorry, would you mind holding her?”

He would. The cat probably had fleas, or ticks, or both. Or worse yet, rabies. Or the Blight. His hands were conspicuously unencumbered though, and if the woman, much smaller than him and clearly a cat expert, did not appear to be afraid of contagion, it did not sit well with him to be less courageous on the subject. 

Solas held out his hands, and carefully took the cat. The cat did not seem to appreciate the change of person in charge, and gave him another baffled look, but it did not try to run off immediately.

The woman grabbed her phone and dialled back whoever had been calling her. 

“No answer?” she said after a brief moment. “No, that makes no sense. It would take you an hour to get here by car, at best, in this snow. Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

The cat was still in his arms. He wondered if it would be better to hold it to his chest, or to keep it at a safer distance. The woman bit her lip in apparent resignation.

It took a lot of Solas’s strength, but he repeated his earlier query.

She sighed. “I’ll try to pawn her off on a friend. Or a sympathetic passer-by. Just for the night, the shelter will have to take her tomorrow.” 

That should have probably raised some red flags, but instead of extricating himself from the interaction before his status with respect to being sympathetic could be gauged and assessed, Solas found himself smiling at the woman and then he heard himself say, “Well, if it’s just for the night, I guess I could help. Though I don’t know the first thing about cats.”

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t—well. It would be best to just put her in a bathroom. Sorry, this is, I’m going about it all out of order—do you even live nearby?”

Solas did, in fact, live nearby. “That’s my apartment building,” he said, pointing left with his chin, since both his hands were still full of cat. 

“Fuck, I mean, sorry, but that would make things so much easier. That’s much closer than my place, so she’s less likely to run off.” She looked deep in thought for a moment. “Can we just take her there? I think she’s really cold. I’d love to get her out of the snow.”

“To my bathroom.”

“Yes.”

He felt the sudden impulse to hand the cat back to her and take off. She would not likely follow, or be able to catch up with him. But taking back the offer of help, once made, was out of the question. Even if it had been made foolishly.

“Would you mind carrying her?” he asked. “I think she likes you better.”

The woman took a breath. “No, certainly. You’ll need to get the keys anyway, right. Um, do you live with someone? A family? A roommate? Are there any other pets?”

Solas blinked. “No. No other pets,” he said. “I’m on my own.” He suddenly realized that, even if she had been the one to suggest at least some part of this plan, she was still facing the prospect of entering a stranger’s apartment, in the middle of the night. With a cat in her arms, which was less protection and more encumbrance. “I don’t know a polite way of saying it, but do you want to text my address to that friend of yours in advance?” he asked.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” she said with apparent relief. “But don’t worry, she’d kill us both if you kidnapped me. Me for being stupid.”

Solas let out a startled laugh and gave her his address, which she quickly typed up. 

Then she looked at him again, searchingly. “Um, Cassandra asks what’s your name. Which I now realize is a question I could also have asked.”

“It’s Solas.”

She smiled. “I’m Ellana. And Cassandra will call in ten minutes to check if I’m murdered yet.”

He decided not to make a joke about not murdering people in the first five minutes of their visit, as that was the kind of thing you only said to someone you’d known for considerably longer than one conversation.

They managed another successful cat handover, and Ellana held the cat to her chest. “For the record, this is not a proper way to transport a cat,” she said. “But curiously enough, I do not carry a pet carrier around with me. But don’t worry. I’ll help you with the whole thing. It will be minimally inconvenient, I promise.”

That seemed patently unlikely to be true.

***

Solas’s apartment was on the second floor of a high rise that Ellana walked past semi-regularly on her way to one of the local bus stops. It was also considerably larger than her place, and—more crucially—equipped in doors that separated each of the rooms from the hall. In short, it was very convenient as a place to stash a stray.

“Does it have to be a bathroom?” Solas had asked her on the way. 

“It should be a small room, and ideally, come with flooring that’s waterproof. Definitely no carpet.” She hoped she didn’t need to spell out the reason why a cat of questionable bathroom training should not be given the opportunity to mark territory in ways difficult to clean.

“I have a mostly empty room,” he replied. “I haven’t really had time to decorate.” 

With the cat provisionally installed in Solas’s spare room, Ellana realized that some issues had to be addressed immediately. 

“Um, so I live like ten minutes from here,” she said. “I can run to my place and bring over some essentials? She’s definitely going to be hungry.”

The cat had decided she’d had enough closeness, and as soon as Ellana placed her on the floor, she scuttled away and hid (rather unsuccessfully) under a chair. 

Solas looked more than a little overwhelmed. “Right,” he said. “I’ll defer to your expertise.” He seemed to be considering whether she was about to ghost him, leaving him with the feline catastrophe.

“Could you give me your number? Just in case. I’ll be back really quickly, and then we’ll decide what to do with her tomorrow.”

They exchanged numbers, and Ellana practically flew out of the building, already calling Cassandra as she was making her way down the stairs. 

“I’m alive,” she announced. 

“Who even is this person?” Cassandra asked immediately. 

“A decent elven being who now has a strange cat in his apartment,” Ellana said. 

Cassandra groaned. “I hate everything about this. What if he planted the cat there for you to find so he can kidnap you?”

“To an address my friend already knows?” 

“Decoy apartment,” said Cassandra. “Decoy cat.”

“You have a dark brain. Do you spend a lot of time considering kidnapping scenarios? Are you the kidnapper or the kidnappee?”

Cassandra replied with a disgusted noise. “You laugh, but this whole thing is bizarre.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s likely that we’re talking serial killer bizarre. More like, the universe is telling me that my future is cats, not dating. In an extremely direct way. The guy just happened to be there.”

“Of course, you’re the protagonist, Ellana,” agreed Cassandra. “All the other people just live in your world.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” said Ellana. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t take the cat home with you,” said Cassandra. “You’d never be able to take it to the shelter then. It would be another foster failure.” 

Ellana refused to be cowed by facts and statistics. “Not this time. I’m finding this cat a proper home.”

“Naturally. Are you going back home now?”

Ellana felt an intense desire not to tell Cassandra the truth, but common sense won. “I’m running home for some supplies, and then I’m bringing them back to his place, to tide him over. I’ll text you when I’m there, and I’ll text you when I leave.”

Cassandra’s eyeroll was practically audible. “Is your phone charged?”

Ellana checked. “Charged enough. Okay, I’ll call you later. You’re the best.”

Cassandra made a noise that somehow clearly conveyed both that she knew that, and that she knew that Ellana acknowledging her greatness was an attempt at mollifying her that was only partly successful.

Ellana opened the door to  her place and was promptly mobbed by her own three cats.

“Good news,” she said. “You’re not getting a sibling.”

Chapter Text

Ellana possibly beat the world record, or at least her own personal best, on the way back between her apartment and the high rise, and she did that despite carrying bags that were not heavy, but very uncomfortably packed. This was clearly going to be her cardio workout for the weekend, so she might as well use it to the fullest. 

And there she was, trying to narrate her life into a social-media friendly post, yet again. When was she going to stop? 

She’d had a brief episode—well, half a decade, give or take a year—of being a blogger / social media personality. She started off during her gap year, blogging about her year abroad, travelling on a shoestring budget, and then slowly pivoted to focusing on a variety of media, ranging from popular books and comic books to obscure movies to the odd TV series that caught her attention. She kept it up and became moderately successful during her sophomore year, and ended up dropping out to focus on the channel full-time before taking her year-end exams (a decision that would naturally come back to haunt her). It had been fun while it lasted, though. Most of the time, anyway. She developed a persona that people really seemed to enjoy, this quirky opinionated “Inquisitor” El, who had opinions about everything and feared nothing, particularly once she became a semi-regular guest on Varric’s podcast.  At the height of her so-called power, she managed to popularize a couple of distinctly underappreciated indie creators, went to convents as the guest of honor, to industry events with a special media pass. She made enough money to put a reasonable downpayment on her tiny studio, and while it did take her parents’ co-signatures to get her a mortgage, she got one.

The world had been her oyster. 

Better yet, it was through her channel that she met Cassandra, Leliana, Dorian and Sera, still her closest friends, people who stuck by her when she went through her episode of social anxiety that made recording a horror and going to events—an impossibility. 

Naturally, that was when it all petered out, gradually at first, and then very quickly. There were haters, and unpleasantries, and less and less money, until one day she woke up and realized it just didn’t make sense anymore. If she wrote one more Inky El message, posted one more video of herself, or went to Varric’s latest discussion of the next tabletop gaming controversy, it was going to end with her screaming and throwing things. So she quit.

But the tendency to think of her daily activities in blog posts remained. 

She squashed this line of thinking as she pressed the intercom button at the entrance to Solas’s building. She sent Cassandra a quick text and mounted the stairs. 

Solas waited for her by the door, and so was handed the whole bundle of cat stuff she’d brought along. He stood, holding it awkwardly, while Ellana took off her coat.

“So that’s a litter box, and there’s corn litter in the bag,” she explained. “I brought two cans of wet food, turkey and tuna, and a little bit of kibble in case she’s used to dry food, though I only use that for treats with mine. I didn’t bring a bowl, but really, any small plate you can spare will do for food, and you can leave the water in a bowl or a glass. And I did bring a carrier, for tomorrow.”

“You come—prepared,” Solas said. He sounded vaguely amused. 

They went into the small room where the cat was still perched under the chair. There was a fluffy towel placed on the floor nearby, and another in a corner next to the radiator, and a third next to that one. Ellana had a strong feeling that Solas had spent the time she was away frantically looking up tips about cat comforts, since there was also already a bowl of water placed centrally on one of the towels.

“She is probably going to be shy,” Ellana warned. “It depends on the cat, but they usually take a while getting used to places and people. So you probably won’t see much of her before she’s out of your—um. Place.” Fantastic, Ellana. Really suave. 

“Do you do this sort of thing often?” he asked as she busied herself with arranging the litterbox and litter.

“Cat rescue operations? It’s my third one, so not really. And the second one is still living with me. His name is Da’len.” She really hoped the cat was litter-trained, or smart enough to figure things out. She sat down on the small sofa in the corner and took another look around, trying to decide about the optimal place for the tray with cat food, but ended up looking at Solas, giving him the first proper moment of her attention.

He was really quite tall, for an elf. She hadn’t really noticed that before, not while they were crouching in the snow, and not later, when she had her arms full of cat, and she was completely focused on not letting the creature either bite her bloody (not that it looked ready to do so, but getting a series of rabies shots was not anywhere on her schedule) or run off into traffic. 

Now, as he stood leaning back against a wall, she was struck by his height. 

She had noticed that he was bald, but now that she took a longer look at his face she had to reassess his age—he couldn’t be much older than forty, or his skin care routine was out of this world. His chin was rather pointy, but what could have looked bad on someone with less personality seemed endearing when combined with his sharp cheekbones. And then there were his eyes, piercing grey with shades that looked almost purple. Except who even had purple eyes? 

And she was clearly staring. She looked away quickly, which likely only drew attention to her behavior.

The cat chose that very moment to utter an impressive sneeze that ended with a bunch of snot hanging from her nose, and then it meowed dramatically, as though calling for help against this self-directed assault. 

“Oh dear. Do you have a tissue?” she asked, rummaging in her pockets. She’d left hers in her coat.

“Uh, here,” said Solas, and grabbed a packet that was conveniently placed on the window pane. 

Ellana took a tissue out, and crouched next to the chair.

“Okay, kitten, let me help you,” she said, and reached out for the cat’s nose. 

It almost worked. She managed to get the snot off, and would have been entirely successful, had she not lingered too long. The cat did not appreciate having her face touched, or perhaps being crowded against the wall, and so the next thing Ellana knew, she was getting clawed across her left forearm.

“Motherfuck—” she exclaimed. “Fuck. I need to—ouch!—wash this out.”

She jumped to her feet and Solas opened the door for her, letting her out of the room. He showed her to the bathroom (which was spotless, as she didn’t fail to notice; definitely more spotless than hers, and there was only so much she could blame on the litter carried around by cat feet. She was not the world’s greatest housekeeper). 

She rinsed her hand—and arm—and then grabbed the soap bottle.

“Let me get—” he said, and went to the kitchen, only to come back with disinfectant and a roll of bandage. 

Ellana sprayed some disinfectant on her forearm, once again feeling on the verge of tears. He was going to throw her out of the apartment together with the cat, wasn’t he. She would throw herself out of the apartment with the cat. Well, at least she had the carrier with her now. 

“Is it bad?” he asked. “Does it mean it’s,” and here he paused dramatically, “feral?”

“Feral would’ve been all claws and fangs in our faces when we first grabbed her,” Ellana said. “She’s just stressed by the new surroundings, probably uncomfortable due to the cold. I should have been more careful, really. She caught me by surprise.”

He nodded, apparently taking her at her word. “Do you need medical help?”

“I’ve had worse than that,” she said. Not from strange cats, admittedly. “My tetanus shots are all up to date, too. And we haven’t had any cases of rabies in the area, so that’s unlikely to be a concern.” She knew she should probably be less blasé about that, but she was not about to report to animal control. She could observe the cat and worry about things if there were symptoms.

She was going to have to take the cat home with her. She was so, so fucked.

“Aren’t there a bunch of other diseases, and parasites, that cats carry?” he insisted. Yeah, he’d definitely been researching things while she was home grabbing cans. Which she would now get to carry all the way back.

She shrugged. “Look, let me just bandage this up, and then I’ll get her, okay?” 

***

It had taken the beautiful stranger—Ellana—only about forty minutes to return with cat emergency supplies. In that time, Solas had managed to arrange a bunch of towels around the floor (motivated by the vague idea that cats liked to lie on warm, soft things, and also the less vague conviction that if it peed on a towel, it was less of a disaster than if it peed on the hardwood flooring), fill the smallest bowl he had with water, and then he started reading a bunch of articles about cats, starting from basic needs, moving to emergency procedures (if the Internet was to be believed, they should have called the shelter, after all, but also the shelter was about to snatch the cat and instantly give it cat AIDS—so that was not really conclusive), and then, he didn’t even know how, he started going down a rabbit hole of zoonotic vector diseases found in cats. It seemed they should have bathed the cat, but also bathing the cat was potentially quite dangerous if the cat’s immune system was compromised. 

He really hoped the new knowledge was not about to come in handy.

Ellana arrived with the cat supplies. She was a whirlwind of energy and cat-related knowledge, lively and determined.  She also looked, frankly, stunning. He thought she had different shoes on now than she had before, the former pair being more high-heeled, and this one more sturdy, but the dress she was wearing appeared—well. He had to remind himself to look at her face, and not her cleavage. She left a scarf on, but it actually didn’t help very much. 

And then she got scratched by the cat.

“Look, let me just bandage this up, and then I’ll get her, okay?” she said to him in the bathroom, somewhat resignedly. “I’ll try to find a friend that could keep her for the night. Sorry for the inconvenience and commotion.”

He felt like he’d missed some steps in the conversation. “I’ve already offered a place for the night,” he said. “Is there some reason to change plans now?” Was the cat dangerous, after all?

Ellana looked at him with an unreadable face. “Well, I get that you didn’t sign up for injuries.”

“I’ve not been injured,” Solas pointed out.

“You might not have expected potential injuries.”

The situation needed some rewinding and unpacking. Preferably in a sitting position. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Solas offered. “And then we can talk it over.”

Ellana hesitated, and nodded. “Sure, why not.”

He led her to the kitchen, and bade her sit by the table.

“Actually, would you mind if I just went and put a little food out for her in the bowl? I’ll be right back,” Ellana said. “Just give me a fork?”

He busied himself starting to prepare the tea. Ellana was back within the minute, before the water had even begun to boil. 

“I doubt she’ll eat anything now, but she might get more exploratory when she feels a little safer,” Ellana explained, sitting down. “So she now has all that she needs for the time being.”

Solas poured the water into a pot over some tea leaves, and produced two cups, which he put on the table in front of Ellana. Then he found sugar and honey, and even managed to locate some cookies in the cupboard.

“What was your initial plan here?” he asked, sitting by the table opposite Ellana. “Take the cat to the shelter in the morning, right?”

“Well, the shelter or the vet. If she has a chip, an owner might be found,” Ellana said. She took the empty cup and stared into it, thoughtfully. 

“Won’t it be worse off in the shelter? Given that it’s already sick?” He wasn’t quite sure if the shelter would accept a sick cat. Would they just—put it down?

“I assume they do have space for quarantine,” she said. “She should bounce back quickly. She looks young, not fully-grown yet, and she’s got the colorpoint—that’s not at all common in strays—so if she turns out to be friendly, she’ll find a home in no time.”

Solas couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince herself or him.

“The shelter’s overcrowded,” he said. He’d found out that much in his first five minutes of research. He was efficient at locating information. “May I ask what you would have done if you didn’t have—how many did you say?”

Ellana gave a deep sigh and reached for the pot, pouring some tea into her own mug. “Three cats. I already have three cats.”

“Yes. So if you didn’t, what would you do?”

Ellana groaned. “I’d probably get a third cat.” She looked up at him. He only now realized that the brightness of her eyes was emphasised by some kind of makeup, now rather smudged, and underneath it, Ellana looked horribly tired. Which wasn’t really surprising—it was well past 11 pm now, and they’d been dealing with a feline crisis for almost two hours. “Okay, but taking this question seriously. The ideal scenario is getting her to a vet tomorrow, checking her for a chip, locating her owner, getting her to the owner.” Somehow, she didn’t quite sound persuaded by that, so he assumed that scenario was not very likely. “If there’s no chip, I’d put on some ads on social media, maybe leave some fliers with her picture in the neighborhood. And I’d keep her in my bathroom until an owner is found, or until someone wants to take her in. Which might be a little while.” She put a spoonful of sugar in her cup. “But well, after the weekend, I could look for a foster home better prepared to handle the situation. It doesn’t need to be my hypothetical bathroom. Or your—spare room.”

What did it say about him that the moment the cat had drawn blood, Solas felt a surge of fierce protectiveness for the vicious miscreant? 

What did it say about Ellana? He imagined that some people, maybe most people, when clawed, would respond by withdrawing their offer of help, trying to pass the problem off on someone, but Ellana didn’t—instead, she was ready to take the cat away, to her own place, even though it sounded like it would be a much greater problem for her than it was for him. 

“Let’s keep it where it is for now,” he suggested. “See what the vet has to say. Do you have a preferred place to take her?”

At that moment, she looked at him, for the second time that night, like he was utterly defying her expectations. He’d be lying if he said that had not provided its own motivation.

“All problems look better in the morning,” he added. “Well, maybe not all. But most.”

Chapter Text

Approximately a year and a half later

The vet clinic opens at nine. Ellana is there at nine on the dot, and finds Solas already inside. Obviously.

The cat is in her carrier, hidden away in a blanket, only huge (and, as far as she is able to tell, relatively clear) eyes visible through the grid of the carrier door. Solas is standing over her, fretting like it is his first time at this rodeo. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week, which, sadly, is an attractive look on him. She has to suppress the instinct to pat his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Hi, poor baby,” Ellana says to the cat, before looking up at Solas. “Hey. Is the doctor in yet?”

“We’ve barely come in,” says Solas curtly. 

Ellana suppresses an eyeroll, stands up, and walks over to the reception desk. 

“Good morning,” she says to the slight elven girl sitting there. “We’re here with Mishap? We have an emergency appointment.”

“Right,” says the girl. “One moment. You called yesterday? Let me see—it will be Dr Gallus in Room 5, and she’ll call you in just a moment.” She smiles at Ellana. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it,” says Ellana. 

Solas gives her a side look as she rejoins him by the carrier. “Thanks for taking over,” he says. “You know she hates me.”

Ellana glances back at the receptionist, who is busy doing receptionist things and not, say, glaring at Solas. “She doesn’t.”

“She absolutely does.”

Ellana could point out that the clinic sees dozens of clients every day, and they are probably much more concerned with those who don’t follow doctor instructions, or don’t pay their bills, or simply the no-shows, than with a more-or-less responsible pet owner with a cat of questionable immunity. However, given that Solas had made it very clear that taking care of his well-being is not her remit, she just shrugs.

“How’s Missy?” she asks instead.

“I can’t tell if the eyes look redder,” says Solas. “She still sneezes. Hasn't affected her appetite, thankfully.”

That isn’t a surprise. Mishap loves her food. These days, her resemblance to an orb is becoming somewhat uncanny. But dieting is a subject best approached when the cat is not suffering from other ailments. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough then.”

She checks her phone, noting a new message on the group chat. It’s Sera, sharing a gif from some Qunari drama Ellana knows nothing about, but whose meaning (disappointment with Ellana’s course of action in handholding Solas through another vet visit) is relatively transparent.

waiting for the vet, she types. S is having kittens, metaphorically

weak men shldnt have pets, is Sera’s ruthless response.

i meant to write get pets. gettit.

Aren’t all men, by definition, weak in your estimation ? writes Cassandra. Ellana snorts.

But Sera is right. Too much fretting = bad for pets. 

Ellana sends back, is it lecture time. im barely awake. 

When she looks up, Solas is giving her another side eye. 

morning is lecture time. afternoon is intervention, writes Dorian. i know from experience.

Let us know what the vet says, Cassandra types. As if there was a chance Ellana wouldn’t. 

She deeply wants to keep on writing inconsequential messages, but it seems that people are too busy or too asleep. Fine. Awkward silence with Solas it is. She looks up at him and manages to go about a minute and a half before saying, “So, how was the trip? I never asked you.”

He doesn’t look at her when he says, “It was acceptable. Mostly productive.”

“Any good sight-seeing?” she tries.

He shrugs. “On the way from the hotel to the conference center and back. There was very little space in the schedule.”

“Oh. That’s a pity. The town is supposed to be quite picturesque.” Great, Ellana. Fantastic conversation skills. Now mention the weather.

Solas gives a deep sigh. “I wish I hadn’t gone. The stress must have caused Mishap’s infection to recur.”

Ellana feels instantly defensive. He might as well have blamed her lacking catsitting skills. Which would be ridiculous, since she is an extraordinarily good catsitter, and on the days in question, spent half of her day keeping Mishap company. The cat was not too happy to lose her favorite elf’s company, but neither was she suffering from abandonment. “If it’s stress, then she could have gotten the infection from the downstairs neighbours’ dog being too loud. You’re not the cause of everything that happens, you know,” she informs Solas. 

He raises his eyebrows. “I never claimed I was,” he says. “Only the bad and avoidable things that happen, naturally.”

Ellana rolls her eyes, but is saved from responding by the doctor calling them in. She steps into the room first and holds the door open for him and the carrier. Solas walks in and places the carrier on top of the table, then clicks the hinges open and raises the upper half, revealing the tangle of fabric, cat fur and misery inside. Mishap gives a plaintive and overly dramatic meow of protest (like owner, like cat, clearly), and then sneezes.

“How is Mishap doing?” asks Dr Gallus, stepping to the table. “I see the respiratory symptoms have not fully abated.” She quickly looks into Mishap’s nose and throat, and takes a temperature in the ear canal. “Temp’s normal.”

“She’s had no fever, no bathroom issues, good appetite,” lists Solas quickly. “I’ve been giving her the drops, and the pills, but she’s still sneezing. Maybe a little less in the morning, but then it’s back to more in the evening. I can’t tell if the eyes are worse.” Another way to say that would be that he couldn’t tell if the eyes were better, but of course, that is not how he sees it.

He is understandably twitchy about Mishap’s eyes. After last year’s saga, Ellana can hardly blame him.

“No, the eyes look fine,” says the doctor, shining a light into the aforementioned body parts. “The third eyelid is still a little pink, but that’s nothing to be alarmed by. Hmm. Is it warm at home?”

She directs this question towards Ellana, who nods. Knowing how Solas gets when Missy is a little off, it must be sweltering by this point. 

“If you’re using central heating, the air may be a little dry. You could buy human eye drops at the pharmacy, the same type you’d use for dry eye, and apply a couple of times a day. But I really don’t see any reason to worry, this is probably just what it looks like–a simple herpes outbreak, given that she’s a carrier. Between the shots, the drops to make sure she doesn’t get a secondary infection, and the immunity supplements, she’ll be better in a few days.” Dr Gallus is using a calm and reasonable tone of voice that makes Ellana immediately feel safe.

Solas looks unpersuaded. “And what about her bloodwork?” he asks. 

“I see we don’t have new tests on file.”

“I came in with her on Friday,” volunteers Ellana, “and she wasn’t being cooperative. Plus, it was the afternoon, and she’d been eating normally. Dr Lutare said we’d do the tests when we come in next, in the morning, for more reliable and complete results.”

“Oh, sorry, that’s right. There’s a note here that I didn’t notice,” says the vet, looking at her tablet. “It also says that the draw can be challenging?”

“Yep. She’s a fighter,” Ellana says. She has the scars on her left arm to prove it. 

“I’ll get the technician to come in to help us, then,” says Dr Gallus. “Assuming she hasn’t had her breakfast yet?”

Solas shakes his head. “I haven’t fed her, just in case.” Which means he absolutely wants them to draw Mishap’s blood. Or maybe anticipated that a surgery would be in order. 

A couple minutes later, they are joined by a red-haired dwarf who introduces herself as Lace, and then gives Ellana too long of a look, as if trying to remember where she knows her from. 

“Lace, glove up. I will need you to hold Mishap,” says Dr Gallus. 

The procedure goes about as well as they could have expected. Mishap initially manages to escape Lace’s clutches and tries to run away by jumping from her shoulder, but Solas grabs the cat in a practiced grip, kisses her on the forehead to maximize confusion and then tucks her, head first, under his arm, leaving the left back paw dangling. “Time is of the essence,” he announces. “The longer she has to think, the worse ideas she gets.”

 Truly, Mishap and him have been made for each other.

***

The vet visits truly never get any easier. Mishap would shudder in stress, and Solas would suffer with her. Then she would get aggressive, everyone would make noises of pretend amusement, and then it was back to the carrier, and back home, in the hope that this time the improvement would be swifter. The results are supposed to be back in a day or two, and meanwhile, it is back to the same battery of medication, vitamins, and the added pleasure of putting even more eyedrops in Mishap’s eyes. 

First, though, he has to say goodbye to Ellana.

He pays at the reception desk (the receptionist definitely hates him, even if he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it) while Ellana holds the carrier and talks to Mishap. 

“Who needs some moisturizing, huh?” she asks. Mishap, all offended innocence, doesn’t deign to reply. “Do you want a humidifier, too?”

“I think we’ll start with the eyedrops,” says Solas. “I apologize for dragging you with us,” he adds to Ellana. “It wasn’t necessary. I could have handled it myself.”

“You mean, spoken to the receptionist and the vet?” asks Ellana. He can’t tell if she is offended or not. Her eyes look bright in the morning light, and she isn’t wearing a scarf or a hat, even though the early spring wind makes the air feel quite chilly. He has to restrain the impulse to touch her hair.

“Yes. That,” he replies. “It was kind of you to come,” he adds, trying to make his meaning clearer.

“I only did it for Missy,” Ellana says, but diffuses her words with a smile. “So. Let me know when she’s better? Or will you need any help with the eyedrops and stuff?”

Eyedrops for Mishap are mostly a matter of stealth. One has to approach her with the bottle at the ready, and quickly put the drops into her eyes before she realizes what is going on. It is absolutely doable on his own. 

“I’ll text you,” he says.

“Remember, we need to give the meds time to work,” Ellana says, as she’s done in the past. “The important thing is, she has her appetite and will to fight. Don’t you? Don’t you, baby?”

Solas really wishes there was a non-embarrassing way of telling her not to call the cat baby , because every time she does, even in the ridiculous sweet voice, his resolve falters.

He offers to give Ellana a lift to her place, but she declines, and takes off in the opposite direction. He resolutely does not watch her go, and instead places and secures the carrier under the passenger seat and drives back.

On arriving home, he lets Mishap out of the carrier, and serves her a generous breakfast. Mishap gives him a look that suggests no offenses are forgiven, and no sins forgotten, but starts on the bowl without further complaining. Ellana is right, the cat’s appetite is heartening.

He checks both of his phones. There is a number of work-related messages typical for the day of the week, and a message from Felassan. How is Mishap?

Vet is optimistic. Gave her new eyedrops for moisture. He doesn’t even need to go to the pharmacy to get those—he has an unopened bottle of his own that he’s now moved to the cat’s shelf in the medicine cabinet.

Does she spend too much time on the computer? You should limit her screentime. I’m told that can be v. healthy. 

I can’t take her blood and deprive her of her devices in one day. She’d never forgive me.

Felassan sends an emoji in response. Solas frowns.

I’ll let you know if anything changes, he writes. He decides to give Mishap some time to groom and settle down before he assaults her with the drops. And now, work.

Chapter Text

Solas barely slept that first night, concerned whether the cat had everything it needed and whether it managed to settle comfortably in the strange place. Concerned about his place surviving the intrusion of an unpredictable if small creature. And then there were the noises. Every time he heard something, or thought he heard something, he would startle and run to the room occupied by his guest to check. The third time he did so, he was greeted by such a glare—clearly, he was the one keeping the cat up—that he exited the room in shame. At least he did notice some more of the food seemed to have disappeared from the plate. 

Around 1 a.m., he decided to concede the lost battle and made himself another (herbal) tea and fired up his computer. He started off with some very careful, incognito and proxied-up surveillance of some of his former friends and enemies (mostly the two groups overlapped, which said sorry things about his past choices). The search yielded no new relevant information. Justice did not seem to be swift to come, not any swifter than a month ago, in any event. 

He might have looked up his ex next, but six months into the Blight, Felassan had broken through Solas’s encryption (for the second time) and Solas, conversation-starved and lonelier than usual, ended up writing him back instead of trying to hide his trail again. Thus, instead of having to cyberstalk Felassan, he could just use his other phone to text him, even if the hour was not particularly appropriate. 

As a compromise, he scheduled his text for 9 a.m., and wrote, A young woman persuaded me to shelter a cat. 

That should give Felassan a good laugh, before he inevitably asked for specifics and explanations.

Sleep was no closer at 2 a.m. than it had been an hour before. Solas bravely did not open the door to the cat’s room—to the room in which the cat was currently staying—telling himself that the creature deserved some peace and quiet. Instead, he ended up thinking about the young woman. Ellana.

She was not merely beautiful, but striking. A force of nature. He thought that she was a little older than he’d at first assumed. When he first saw her, in the dim light of a street lamp, amid the falling snow, he’d taken her for a twenty-year-old, but that seemed to be wrong. She might have been twenty-five, an adult with a life that apparently involved three cats, a group of friends making sure she was alright when running into strangers, and occasionally, rescuing strays.  

He felt a mild pang of jealousy at that, though he wasn’t sure if it was her life he envied or the cat’s, the object of her care and protectiveness.

If he was going to go down that kind of trail of thought, he really needed to sleep instead. They were supposed to go to a local vet to get the cat checked for a chip at 10 a.m., and that was in seven and a half hours now.

They would get the cat’s owner identified, and he would have his life—no cat, no chaos-bringing elven women, no rescuing—back.

***

Of course, the cat didn’t have a chip. 

Ellana had spent a good half an hour before bed checking local websites and neighborhood groups for notices, scouring for any post about a missing cat, but no one seemed to be looking for a six-to-nine months old semi-long-haired dark colorpoint. There was a chance that she’d only just run off, and they would start looking for her the next day, but the first line of inquiry was unsuccessful. She went to sleep hoping for a chip. 

But of course, that would have made things easier, and easier was not to be had. 

“We have a bit of a mishap here,” Solas said to the doctor, who beamed.

“Oh, that’s such a cute name!” 

That solved one problem, but they were still stuck with more questions than answers.

The cat was a girl. Unspayed, naturally: it would have been too much to hope for a neutered stray. Unknown vaccination status meant starting her off on all basic shots, but only once she had fought off the cold and been dewormed. Fortunately, at least there were no visible fleas or ticks, so chances were she had not spent too long outside and could well be good on the internal parasite front.

“You could test her feces, but frankly, it’s cheaper and more reliable to proceed as if she has worms,” said the vet. “Test after a while, if you want.”

“She’ll probably be at her permanent home by then,” Ellana said with more optimism than she felt.

The vet assessed Mishap to be about seven months old and warned that she could go into heat at the drop of a hat. Solas went white at this news. Ellana added that to her mental list of things he seemed to have managed to look up since yesterday.

“She needs to get over the flu, and then we can neuter her, the faster, the better,” the vet said.

Ellana offered to pay for the visit. Solas would have none of it. Ellana insisted a little, out of good manners, but honestly, it was a relief, since a fourth cat (repeat this until it sticks, Ellana) was not in her budget.  

“I’ve already started looking for a foster home to take her in,” she told Solas when they were out of the exam room and in the waiting area. “I hope I’ll have someone by the evening. Would it be possible for you to keep Mishap until then? That way we’ll avoid the shelter, which is always doing their best, but you know. So many cats all together.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I’m very sorry about the inconvenience.”

Solas stared at her.

“Are we calling her Mishap?” he asked, clearly focusing on the relevant part of her speech.

“It is a cute name,” Ellana said, carefully not reacting to the ‘we’ of it all. “And will look good in posts advertising her for adoption. Very catchy.”

Solas looked into the carrier then, from where Mishap’s huge eyes stared up at the both of them. Her sneezing was worse in the morning, but it might have been the nerves, at least partly. He gave a deep sigh.

“It’s not that much of an inconvenience,” he said.

Ellana looked at him carefully. “It’s not?” 

He shrugged the one arm not currently holding the carrier. “I could keep her over the weekend. Now that we know she has no fleas.”

Ellana smiled. “Were you very worried about the fleas?” she asked.

He responded with a smile that was a little conspiratorial, and more than a little endearing. “It has been a slight concern, yes.”

Ellana had been more worried that the cat would turn out to be seriously pregnant, but she bit her tongue before admitting to that.

“I’ll need to come over and take some nice pictures for posts on social media,” she said. “And I’ll drop off more supplies. What time would be good for you?”

They made arrangements for the late afternoon. 

Still alive, Ellana messaged the group chat. Cassandra had already spilled the (judgmental) beans on Ellana’s yesterday’s adventure, and now everyone wanted in on the fun of teasing her about it.

Is the cat yours yet? Leliana wanted to know.

Nope. Still at his place.

Do you have pictures? was Leliana’s follow-up question. 

Either his or the cat’s would be good, suggested Dorian.

The picture of Mishap that she did have was not particularly illustrative—the light had not been great, and Mishap had after all made a beeline for under the chair—but she sent it to the group. 

That’s a cuddly looking fellow, wrote Dorian.

girl, seven months, no chip, intact (ugh), currently known as Mishap

What are you going to do about it? does Dagna have any leads? asked Sera. 

Dagna’s out of town and I don’t want to bother her on her vacation. I’ll do the usual. ads, fliers, waiting. He offered to keep her through the weekend, so finding another foster home ASAP is one thing off the immediate to-do list
btw, do any of you want to foster a cat for a little while? <3

hilarius, wrote Sera, for whom Dagna’s own menagerie had not been the dealbreaker, but definitely added to the minus column, back when the two of them had dated. 

alas, yk, my allergies :(, wrote Dorian, who never exhibited any symptoms when visiting cat-dander-infested spaces, and yet always claimed them when convenient. 

Ellana posted an eye roll gif. 

In an emergency, I may be able to do a few days, but please, only if all else fails, wrote Cassandra, who was that kind of a friend, but also not a cat person.

I can drive you wherever. No promises otherwise, wrote Leliana. Also, what is it with this guy? 

There is nothing with the guy. He’s just being nice.

riiight, wrote Dorian. please take a picture of the guy. for me. can be with the cat.

He may be using the cat to score point with you, agreed Leliana. Stay vigilant.

couldn’t u run into a hot chick? complained Sera, but the use of a single question mark signalled that it was only done half-heartedly.

Ellana spent the day alternating between writing posts for her clients, and scouring all the local lost and found pet websites and groups for any new mention of a cat resembling Mishap. The former turned out to be more productive than the latter, which was to say, nobody in the area was seemingly looking for a young girl cat, or a colorpoint of any age or sex. She did get in touch with a rescue group / non-profit that promised to help her spread the word as soon as she had better pictures, and offered information on the best value for money spays in the city. Ellana’s cats, oblivious to the still imminent threat of a fourth sibling, spent the day watching the birds outside the window and sleeping.

And then it was time to go back to Solas. To Mishap. Not to Solas. Definitely just Mishap. 

Chapter Text

Solas walked into the cat’s room ahead of Ellana’s arrival in order to clean the litter box, only to freeze in his tracks when he realized that Mishap was nowhere to be seen.

The entrance was locked behind him, and he was reasonably sure he would have noticed if the cat had tried to sneak out between his legs when he was coming in. And yet, there was no cat anywhere in the room. The window was closed. There were no holes in the walls. The cat was not hanging from the ceiling or the lamp, and he felt somewhat ridiculous to have checked.

The cat food had been eaten, and the litterbox did contain evidence of the cat not having been a hallucination. 

He looked under the furniture, and on top of the furniture, and even opened the (also closed) wardrobe. The cat was not there.

His explorations were cut short by the buzzing sound of the intercom. He left the room, once again closing the door carefully, just in case, and let Ellana in. 

She was not going to be impressed with his cat-losing achievement.

Ellana, however, turned out to be mostly amused.

“They do that,” she said, after they re-investigated the room together. “If there is one hidey hole where they can fit, they absolutely will do that. Especially when stressed. It’s great that she’s using the litter box, though. That goes a long way.” Solas agreed strongly with that sentiment.

“So what are we supposed to do?” he asked, surprised at his own petulance.

“Put out more food. And wait. I brought a couple of toys and some treats, but maybe let’s give her a little breathing room.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Patience is a big feature of living with cats. If she doesn’t come out in half an hour, we’ll look for her again.”

He was not planning to live with a cat, but he carefully filed the information away just the same.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he proposed, a little resignedly. “Coffee, tea, water?” 

“I’d love a coffee, actually,” Ellana said. He hoped it had not gone off. He mostly kept it for the very rare visitors. Or the occasional plumber. 

“So what do you do when you aren’t rescuing cats in poor weather conditions?” he asked a little while later, as they sat at the kitchen table with their respective cups of beverages. 

Ellana made a face. “Wasting my life. Sorry, sore subject. I’m writing copy and working part-time at the moment. I dropped out of university halfway through my BA to focus on work, but that didn’t work out, so I’ve also recently re-enrolled.” She took a sip of her coffee, and smiled. “What about you?”

Solas noted the pointed omissions of key facts, tabling the notion for later consideration.

He had already given some thought to couching his own backstory into an acceptable shape. “I work in IT. I moved here right before the Blight, after changing jobs. Partly to change the scenery.”

“I’m not sure we’re famous for attractive scenery,” Ellana pointed out.

“Well, it was new scenery for me. And now it’s grown on me.”

She gave him a searching look. “Was there a bad breakup, to motivate the change?”

He considered the question. “That obvious? Well, yes and no. There was a breakup, and it wasn’t great, but it was more about my former place of employment. My employers and I didn’t end on good terms. Lawyers had to be involved. It’s a long story, but I ultimately relocated a number of times pursuing new career opportunities, and then there was the lockdown, so moving again was not really an option, and then I just stayed.”

It was the truth, just not the whole truth. It also made him sound boring.

Boring was good. Boring was safe. He didn’t need to pique her curiosity about him. He just needed to help her take some cat pictures so she could find Mishap a proper place to live.

“Lawyers?” Ellana repeated, with rather more curiosity than he liked. “That sounds… intense.”

He shrugged, then stretched the truth so far it almost came full circle. “It was mostly tedious.” 

“Hmm,” she said, and sipped her coffee for a moment, her fingers curling around the mug, her eyes looking down, eyelashes throwing shadows. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, or perhaps no makeup he could see, today, but her eyes were still bright. 

“So what do you study?” he asked.

“Communications,” Ellana said, making a self-deprecating face. “It’s about as exciting as it sounds, for the most part. I need the degree.”

“Many things are easier with one,” he agreed. “So the cat rescuing is just a side pursuit?”

Having heard what came out of his mouth, Solas deeply wished for the cat to start yowling right at this moment to save him from further embarrassment. 

“Well, I actually try not to make a habit of that. But since either way I can’t get enough of cats, I do catsit for people,” she said.

Solas did not know exactly what that meant, although he could make an educated guess.

“That’s a lot of cat related information,” Ellana added, sounding apologetic. “I promise I do talk about other things, on occasion.”

“I will let you know if the subject becomes wearisome,” Solas replied. Truth be told, he was not really in a position to complain about cat-centric conversation, having cut himself off from most social contact, to no great effect on his welfare. He supposed pets offered a decent neutral topic, anyway. And given how melodious Ellana’s voice was, he would not likely object to her speaking about the state of the local roads, or comparative advantages of different types of wallpaper adhesives.

After they finished their drinks, they went back to the cat room. Mishap had eaten some more food in the meantime (proof that she had not, after all, managed to somehow claw through the walls and out, he supposed), but had removed herself again.

“Let’s see what she says to treats,” said Ellana and dug into her bag for a small plastic packet. She made sure to crinkle it loudly. “This is basically cat crack,” she explained. The cartoon cat on the packet did appear potentially intoxicated.

There was a sudden noise from under the sofa, and a few seconds later, a cat’s head appeared between the sofa and the floor. Ellana slowly approached, let the cat smell the snack and then methodically waved the treat a little away from the cat. Mishap followed. 

“These are very unhealthy,” Ellana explained, feeding the cat another treat. “But I have yet to meet a cat who wouldn’t sell their entire soul for a bagful.” She carefully petted Mishap’s head as she gave her one more treat. “Very nice. And now, Missy, do you want to show me how you do with toys?” 

She had brought something called a feather teaser, which she showed to the cat. Mishap looked entirely unimpressed, until Ellana started moving her hand, and the feathers began to glide across the floor. Then the cat’s gaze became more curious—alert—deliberate—and she pounced after the feathers. Ellana moved the teaser across the floor.

This went on for a few minutes, after which Ellana fed Mishap another treat. “To complete the hunting cycle,” she explained. He did not understand the terms, but once again, could try to guess. “Okay, could you try to play with her a little? I’d like to take the pictures now.”

She handed him the toy, and their hands met briefly. Solas could not describe how ridiculous it was that he both noticed and noted the fact.

He copied Ellana’s earlier movements. Mishap pounced at the feathers and caught them immediately. Solas gently pried the feathers away from Mishap’s grasp, feeling like some kind of criminal as Mishap tried to hold onto the toy. He dangled the feathers again, a little further this time.

Ellana walked around, finding angles and light. She snapped picture after picture for about five minutes, intent on the task. It left Solas with nothing to do but wave a stick around and glance at her surreptitiously, then chastise himself for glancing. 

She was going to notice, and it would be unbearably awkward. 

“Could you hold her?”

Mishap allowed him to grab her and even started to purr. Ellana instructed him on how to stand and took a few more pictures of the cat. “I’ll text you a copy of the bunch,” she said. 

Solas startled at that. “Sure,” he said. “But I must insist that you do not post any with me in them,” he said, hating to ask. “I am—very private.” He really hoped she would not ask him why.

“No worries. I’ll edit you out,” said Ellana. “Are hands alright? People like to see cats being snuggly.”

Solas found himself blushing, inexplicably. “Yes, hands are alright,” he said. “Uh. So once again, she’s supposed to eat half a can of wet food a day?”

“It’s okay if she eats more, she’s still growing and building up her strength,” Ellana said, and they discussed cat nutrition for the next few minutes, safely moving away from the subjects of hands and privacy. 

***

The cat was actually easier to handle than Ellana had hoped for, after last night’s mildly vicious attack on her arm. Mishap used the litterbox, ate the food she was given, played, didn’t try to run away the moment they opened the door. Her sneezing didn’t seem worse. 

The man—the man was worse. And Ellana had made him hold the cat. Like a newbie.

What did she expect, that she would be immune to that image? 

She would gladly have blamed the group chat for planting the idea in her head, but truth be told, the idea had been there ever since he appeared, tall and helpful, and in perfect contrast to her cat-averse date. She did not believe in signs, but she also didn’t not believe in signs. The universe didn’t speak, but if it was telling her something, it was to see where this went.

Admittedly, there were some red flags. He was a little cagey about his past, but then, so was she. If his worst secret was a legal dispute with a former employer, she didn’t think that was a dealbreaker. Not for a winter fling, anyway.

And she did think there was something there, judging by the way Solas followed her with his eyes. Not to mention him having spontaneously offered to foster the cat, short-term.

Did it make her very immoral, planning to use her feminine wiles to get him to keep the cat a little longer? All was fair in cat rescuing, right? 

She did get one very good shot of him, in profile, holding the cat securely as the creature gently kneaded his chest. His cheekbones were even more striking from that angle. She was going to crop the picture for the ad, but the group chat was about to see the whole thing.

If they wanted to tease her, the least they could be was accurately informed.

Besides, it was not unethical if it was also a way to ensure if he did, after all, turn out to be a serial killing stalker, there would be a way to track him down. In addition to having an address and a telephone number. 

Okay, she wrote on the group chat. I do have pics. It’s bribery time.

pass, Sera replied immediately. just give us better snaps of the cat

HEY, wrote Dorian.

u r on ur own, D. 

Leliana sent over a side eye gif. Cassandra didn’t react in any way, which probably meant that she was immensely curious, but pretending to be a better person than Dorian. 

Ellana sent them all a nice picture of Mishap, in which she was eyeing the feathers curiously.

Ooh, so pretty, wrote Leliana.

available for adoption!!!

Not a nug, not interested, sorry 

she could be socialized to get along with nugs! could be a fun new thing for you!!! Ellana pressed her luck.

There are things I am willing to do to save you from yourself but adopting Mishap just so you won’t is not one of them, replied Leliana. 

on a related topic of saving you from yourself, elf pictures, please, texted Dorian, and then i’ll be able to tell you if he’s on the apps!

do you have eidetic memory for guys on the apps? asked Leliana.

I may.

Hmph, wrote Cassandra.

snore, wrote Sera.

stop baiting and put out, wrote Leliana. Pics or he didn’t happen

Ellana hesitated for a moment. What if they said something horrible and made the whole thing weird for her. What if it turned out Dorian did know him, intimately. What if—she pressed send.

The chat responded with silence. Ellana knew they should never have been trusted. Traitors. She exited the app and went into her text messages, to send Solas the pictures she’d promised.

He responded with a picture of Mishap up on a chair. It looked suspiciously like one of the chairs in the kitchen rather than the furniture she remembered from the cat room.

did you let Mishap out? she asked.

She let herself out. But at least she doesn’t seem to be looking for hiding spaces. She walked around every room and seems to like the kitchen the best.

make sure not to leave any windows ajar, Ellana wrote before she was able to stop herself. But of course, if she hadn’t, she’d just obsess over whether to do it.

Noted, he wrote back. Anything else to look out for? I didn’t ask you about catproofing the apartment.

He used catproofing in a sentence. He asked intelligent questions. If he wasn’t trying to get into her pants, he was certainly making a good impression of it. 

I didn’t notice any plants? Chemicals? Dangling things? She hoped Mishap wouldn’t immediately turn to scratching the furniture. don’t leave any of your own food out, she might have bad habits. and don’t feel bad about locking her in again if she goes too wild or doesn’t let you sleep or whatever.

She was this close to telling him to lock the cat in again, but that was micromanaging. And if Mishap peed on his favorite shoes or even ate them, she was not holding herself responsible for his choices.

She went back into the group chat, to be greeted by a wall of text. She scrolled up, a little gratified.

definitely on none of the apps i would have remembered those cheekbones, was Dorian’s first response.

he has no hair, wrote Sera. sus.

I would’ve never supported this cat scheme if I’d known he looked like that, Cassandra wrote. Ellana was going to have to ask her what that was supposed to mean, other than a seconded "sus".

Ellana is an adult and she can engage in any schemes she wants, Dorian protested.

thats not the problem, D. ur not a grl, u dont get it

The cat seems to like him, Leliana wrote. Here’s hoping this means he’s a decent person

like u dont know cats. cats absolutely love assholes, wrote Sera.

i thought it was dogs who loved whoever, wrote Dorian.

dogs love unconditionally, cats have a purrfrence for assholes, wrote Sera, probably super proud of her pun game. It was also clearly bait specifically designed to annoy Ellana. She resolved not to respond to it.

So what’s the plan now? Cassandra asked. I was under the impression the guy part of the cat rescue was almost done. 

Cass, you can’t be serious, wrote Dorian. look at those cheekbones. El needs to seize the d-ay. or if the d-ay is not seizable, give him my number.

DORIAN. please.

yuck. also bo-ring. and he’s probably super elfy too, amirite.

The cheekbones are nice, Leliana admitted. She was probably already three steps into an investigation of who Solas was, presuming she hadn't completed it by now.

I cannot with you people, Ellana wrote, but she was smiling. It was exactly the kind of horrible she’d expect from her friends. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Mishap’s eyes have predictably gotten worse. There’s goop in the corners, and while she’s not scratching or grooming obsessively, she’s still particularly guarded, so he needs to be extra sneaky when he delivers the drops. Solas considers a range of potential horror scenarios. 

“Sorry, no breakfast for you,” he informs Mishap as she winds her way around his legs and demands her customary offerings. “We’re off to see the vet again.”

He thinks about texting Ellana, but yesterday’s visit is still fresh in his mind. He can’t rely on her for hand-holding every time Mishap needs to see a vet, and especially not if she needs to see a vet every day. He can update her when he knows more. He calls the clinic.

Of course, it’s the receptionist who hates him that picks up.

“Halla and Dales Vet Clinic, Rook speaking, how may I help you?”

He quickly recaps the situation: Mishap’s visit yesterday, expecting test results, new and alarming symptoms, a history of immune problems and the ever delightful not-so-dormant feline herpes. “Is there any chance to see the doctor now?”

“I see that you’re worried,” says the-person-apparently-called-Rook in the practiced voice of someone who’s been trained to acknowledge the emotions of their interlocutor. Solas immediately hates it. “But we don’t have the test results yet. I’ll call the lab and ask them about the ETA, and call you back, if that’s alright.”

“Actu—”

“Great! I’ll call you back soon.”

Solas stares at the phone. Mishap butts his leg. He wishes he could text Ellana to complain. In the absence of such simple comforts, he starts his computer and engages in some semi-productive work.

The phone rings twenty minutes later, when Solas has all but given up hope for Mishap’s recovery. She surely has a weird contagious disease and they are cordoning off the city.

“Hello again, this is Rook,” the receptionist says. “So the test results will be in at about 11am, we’re very sorry for the delay. Doctor Gallus will try to fit in a call before 1 pm to talk them over with you, but she does have a few procedures on schedule. Should you want to come in—” there is some clicking “—we could find you a slot at 3.45 pm.”

Solas supposes he should appreciate that Rook’s hatred of him does not extend to wanting to punish an innocent cat.

It is Ellana who texts him first, apparently able to sense the brewing trouble, or else deducing it from his silence. 

how’s missy?

In an act of idiocy, he starts typing something back only to get stuck between lying that she’s fine (bad) or admitting that she’s worse (which will invite follow-ups). The option not to respond has naturally disappeared once the message turned “read.” 

We’re still waiting for the test results, is what he finally writes back. He feels a headache starting. 

let me know when you have them. off to class

The reminder about her own life, with schedules and responsibilities, is welcome and needed. He has been right not to alarm her. It’s not his place to infringe on her kindness and on her time once again.

Of course. Enjoy the classes.

He knows she doesn’t, a lot of the time. She is the oldest student in most of them, having returned to the interrupted degree in her late twenties, and between the immature peers (a few of whom know her from her channel, which makes her all the more self-conscious), and the mixed bag of instructors (some of whom do not sound fit for the role), and the expense, she is more than ready to grab her degree and say goodbye and good riddance to education. Only a few credits and the final project separate her from that goal.

Solas quashes the desire to ask her about her schedule this last term. He’s already exceeded his allotted quota of interaction for the week, and it’s only Wednesday.

He feeds Mishap after all, deciding that even if he takes her to the vet’s in the afternoon, new tests and procedures are unlikely this late in the day. Then he returns to his work, while Mishap curls up in her cat bed by the radiator. 

The blood work results arrive in his inbox right after eleven. He comes up with three viable diagnoses based on the white and red blood counts (it might be cancer). Doctor Gallus calls some half an hour later.

“There is nothing really out of the ordinary for an infection in the results,” she says. “Elevated white cell count, that’s to be expected. You said there’s still no improvement?”

“Her eyes are worse,” he confirms. “She still sneezes—less than before, but still.”

“Hmm,” says the doctor. “And the symptoms started last week?”

“Second half, yes.”

“Does she normally have access to a balcony, or a terrace?”

“There’s a balcony, but this time of the year she only goes out for a couple of minutes,” Solas says, vaguely perplexed. Surely Mishap couldn’t have caught bird flu? Or the Blight?

“Do you air the apartment?”

Bird flu is extremely lethal in cats. “Could you tell me what this is about?” he asks.

“Well, I do have your address on file, and I’m guessing your place is right by the park, isn’t it?” When he confirms, she goes on, “So. It’s difficult to test for this in a reliable way, but I would say we’ve been going about this from the wrong angle, and what Mishap actually needs is some antihistamines. For a pollen allergy.”

“But her herpes—”

“Well, I see how that would lead us to the conclusion that her recent troubles are viral, but if this was herpes, we’d likely have more improvement by now.”

Solas remembers having aired the apartment particularly thoroughly the previous evening. “That—that makes some sense,” he admits. “It’s the beginning of the season, right?”

“We see a bunch of cats with it every year. More dogs, because they go walking. Do you still want to bring Mishap in? I can take a look at her, if that will alleviate your concerns.” 

There are two warring instincts in Solas, and he squashes the panicky one. “She does not need the additional exposure to the outside,” he concedes.

Dr Gallus sets them up with a prescription, sends him details of follow-up care and pencils them in for a visit with one of the other vets on Friday evening. “But only if there’s no marked improvement. If she’s better, call us to cancel, and you’ll just need to keep her on the allergy meds for about six weeks, then taper off.”

The news is good, and significant enough as to warrant an exception to the “no more texting Ellana” rule. He won’t even pretend that’s not the first impulse he feels, and so he’s writing her already before he even gets to the nearest pharmacy.

We have a new diagnosis. Gallus says it’s likely a pollen allergy and not feline herpes. This time.

oh wow, Ellana writes back. poor missy! 

Well, she’s off the double eyedrops and we’re switching to antihistamine pills once a day so I think she’ll see that as an improvement.

idk, i can’t believe i got you a broken cat
two of mine are practically functioning

Solas takes a moment responding, which means he spends it looking at Ellana’s messages, standing in front of the pharmacy rather than going in, grateful she can’t see him. The warranty has run out by now, he finally types. 

classic foster fail, concurs Ellana. 

Solas decides that does not necessitate a reply (even if he would gladly keep the conversation going). He hides the phone in his pocket and enters the store.

***

Ellana is on her lunch break when Solas texts her updates about Missy.

“Is that your boyfriend?” asks Evelyn, who usually sits at Ellana’s left side at Foreign Relations 302.  Evelyn is one of the few students Ellana has developed more of a rapport, and the few group projects they've done together were not actual torture, which makes her practically a friend in Ellana's book.

“Nope. Still no boyfriend,” says Ellana. “Or girlfriend. Or any kind of significant other.”

“You really should get out there,” says Evelyn, who clearly wants to get downgraded to an acquaintance. 

“What’s the point?” Ellana asks, grimly. 

“Sex is the point, Ellana. Sex.” The downgrade could proceed to the level of vaguely recognizable stranger.

Ellana laughs darkly. She’s gone on a few dates in the last months, with one or two progressing to physical activities, but neither left her desirous of a second helping. If she were to give herself a diagnosis, she’d say she’s just not in the right place for a relationship right now, and her body knows it. If she were to let her friends diagnose her, she knows precisely what they would say, and it starts with “You” and ends with “need to get over that asshole.”

It’s entirely possible they are right.

“Why are you still catsitting and going to the vet with him?” Leliana asks her on Saturday,  when they met for their monthly brunch. The weather is beautiful. The croissants are delicious. Her friends mean well, but they should get a new hobby.

“Because I saddled him with the cat in the first place. And because I love Mishap,” defends Ellana.

Leliana rolls her eyes. Cassandra groans. 

“Ellana, Solas is an adult man. He decided to adopt the cat. He broke up with you. You have no continued responsibility to either the cat or the man. Whereas you do have an obligation to yourself to limit self-harm. Of which this is a form,” explains Leliana.

Ellana narrows her eyes. “Leliana, you’re friends with most of your exes. You help each other move. You go to each other’s birthdays, and weddings.”

“Orgies, a couple of times,” chimes in Sera, gesturing with her fork.

Leliana shrugs elegantly. “Yes, and that’s okay for us because we’re a) lesbians and b) not hung up on each other.”

“I think b) is the more important part,” says Cassandra, “but I agree with Leliana’s point. You didn’t part ways on good terms, and this convenient emotional intimacy that’s all on his terms and that just so happens to provide him with high quality half-price catsitting is not serving you. You need to make a change.”

“I’m hearing you,” says Ellana. “I’ll make a change.”

She hasn’t made a change yet, but she will. Just as soon as she’s really sure that Mishap’s better. She will stop texting him first. The next time he asks her if she can catsit, she’ll tell him no. She might even get back on the apps, and look for someone less problematic, shorter, and with an entire head of hair, to avoid bad associations.

She’s going to miss Mishap’s silly little face, though.

“Are we sure he’s not doing the thing with the cat,” Sera asks. “You know, making her sick on purpose. So you have an excuse to spend time together.”

“She got sneezy when I was there,” Ellana protests. “So you might as well say I am making her sick on purpose.”

“Well, are you?” asks Sera.

“No!”

“I’ll be watching you,” Sera promises. 

“Are we talking about cats again?” Dorian asks, finally deigning to appear, forty minutes into the brunch. “And can we not?”

“We were telling Ellana to cut her losses with that man,” says Cassandra, somehow imbuing the words with considerable malice. 

“Oh, that again,” says Dorian, and pats Ellana’s shoulder. “I’m on your side, remember. Sometimes you just can’t do without toxic assholes. They add flavor to everyday tediousness.”

Sera snorts. “Asshole flavor.” Cassandra hides her face in her hands.  

“Thank you, Dorian, I’ll keep that in mind,” says Ellana. “How’s your life? Exciting and fabulous as always?”

Luckily, Dorian loves talking about himself, and he always does have stories to tell, so that is all it takes to change the topic. 

“I could set you up with my friend,” says Evelyn the following week, when they’re waiting for the class to begin. The professor is late again, and then takes forever to set up the overhead projector. That’s fortunate, because it’s the same amount of time Ellana needs to gather her bearings and ask Evelyn some follow up questions. Such as, who with.

“It’s this chick I know. She’s a little more outdoorsy than you, but she also likes cats. And nature in general.”

Ellana is saved from having to answer by the class finally starting. She spends the next eighty minutes going back and forth about the prospect. But, well, at the end of the class she decides that even if it’s bad, she will at least be able to tell her friends that she tried something new. The outdoors. A hike? “You know what, I guess I could meet that friend of yours. Is she also studying here?”

“She’s doing her PhD, so she might be closer to your age, actually,” replies the stranger who goes by Evelyn. “So, I’ll talk to her, and then I’ll get you guys in touch?”

Ellana gives her a thumbs up, and then realizes she actually needs to hurry, unless she wants to be late for her next class. And this one’s possibly her favorite, a seminar where the professor actually has them read interesting texts and then discuss them during their weekly meetings, and it does not all come down to endless debates on elven rights and wrongs.

After the classes, Ellana takes the bus home, where her three sweet baby nightmares are waiting. Da’len greets her right at the door, Keeper sits by the coat hanger, and only Hunter is late to the party, emerging out of the bedroom when Ellana has already taken off her shoes. She feeds them, and eats some leftovers while looking over her to-do list. She needs to produce some content for a couple of clients, some of which is the next part of a marketing campaign for a cat food brand; there are some posts for the pet rescue group that await her approval, and some that need to be written, mostly reminders about upcoming events. Then she has some free time before the evening portion of catsitting. On Thursdays, she has her weekly yoga with Leliana. Most of the week, she can work from home (unless of course it’s catsitting), although one of the websites she writes for encourages regular staffers to come in for a meeting and do some writing onsite at least on Mondays.

She is on her way back from catsitting—a lovely duo of ragdolls who love the feather teaser and the subsequent treats—when her phone pings. Her hearts beats faster for a moment, but it’s just Evelyn, saying her friend would be interested in meeting. How’s Saturday?

Saturday’s ok, she writes.

Great, I’ll let Merrill arrange everything with you, writes Evelyn, and sends her a link to Merrill’s profile.

Which is how Ellana finds herself setting up a date for kestrel watching right outside the city for Saturday morning.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days gave Solas and Mishap more opportunities to get to know one another. Mishap discovered that Solas was easily persuaded to provide extra helpings of food. Solas discovered that Mishap was a very effective communicator. She knew how to request food (meowing, looking forlorn, standing in front of an empty bowl), how to demand pets (meowing, looking forlorn, climbing up an elven leg), and instinctively found the best moments to interrupt Solas’s work (by meowing, looking forlorn, walking across the keyboard).  

By all accounts, she was still feeling quite poorly, although her sneezing had somewhat abated after the medication, and there were no more snot-related episodes. But, in between the petting and the feeding, she still slept most of the time, more than a young cat typically would, and insistently sought out warm spaces in the apartment (the computer was a particular favorite), leading Solas to crank up the thermostat. She was a considerate house guest otherwise, using the litter box as intended, and refraining from throwing things off shelves and tables (a habit that, as Solas’s research suggested, was quite common in the species). Ellana texted him that the cat should have more energy to wreak havoc once she was fully healed, but by that time she’ll be wreaking havoc elsewhere, hopefully , she finished the message.

On the second day Solas woke with the cat snuggled to his legs. Mishap purred loudly when he started moving, and he petted her under her chin. This led to more purring, more petting, and more snuggling. Then the cat got up together with him, enthusiastically jumping off the bed, and running straight to her bowl, indicating what services were expected of Solas. Impulsively, he took a picture of Mishap eating and sent it to Ellana. And to Felassan.

seems you still have a cat, responded the latter. Unexpected development, but happy for you.

She’s decent company and above average conversation-wise , he wrote. He’d explained the situation to Felassan over texts the previous afternoon. Felassan had been amused. He’d also joked that the cat would definitely try to run away in the night, or even as soon as she realized who her host was. Solas had ignored the jab.

looks like there’s no issue with appetite, great :), wrote Ellana. She let you sleep?

Better. Let me sleep in.

whoa. good Missy.

How’s your morning? he asked, and pressed send before he managed to reconsider. 

cat-intensive. Hunter tried breaking into a bag of treats at 6 am. but now all three are fed and I’m having my coffee.

Any replies to your posts overnight? She’d let him know that she was preparing some ads concerning Mishap, asking for help locating her possible owner, although she thought it was unlikely anyone would come forward.

someone messaged me that maybe they saw this cat on the neighbors’ balcony. Probably means nothing, but I’ll check it out just in case. 

i’ll be hanging up posters soon.

Do you need any help? he asked. 

don’t need, but would appreciate it, it’s easier with two people, Ellana wrote after a moment. but if you have other plans, it’s ok.

He really didn’t have any other plans, aside from plans to make plans concerning the same thing he was ever planning. Still, he spent a couple minutes staring at his phone, wondering how he should respond so as not to sound too eager. 

I can spare an hour, he wrote finally. I assume the posters should go up around the neighborhood? 

yeah, that’s my thinking. so can we meet next to the store where we found her? say, at 10.30ish? i should have the posters printed by then.

I can print them, just send me the file, to [email protected], he wrote. How many copies do you need?

There was a brief pause.

that is your email address, Ellana wrote finally. Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

okay. sending it out now.

Solas checked the email app. The message was there. The address she sent the file from was [email protected].

10 copies should be enough. i’ll bring tape and scissors, she wrote in the next text. 
also, this is my very private email.
please don’t share with anyone.

He had the sense she was making fun of him.

Inquisitor? he asked.

long story. not shareable before 5pm. by which i mean not shareable except over wine and snacks

He typed the answer before he managed to stop himself. Time passes inexorably, whereas wine and snacks are both obtainable.
I would be interested to hear the story.

Ellana didn’t write back immediately, which gave Solas the opportunity to decide he must have misread her text as an opening for an invitation, and so overstepped. It was almost time to leave for their planned meetup when she texted back.

white wine? anyways, see you in fifteen.

Solas felt his heart idiotically skip a beat.

***

They put the first poster up on a bulletin board by the store where they had first met, one next to a bus stop, and then went around the closest neighborhood, trying to figure out where the posters would have the biggest chance of being seen.

“This is mostly to cross the Ts and dot the Is,” Ellana said, as a reminder to herself as much as to Solas. “She might have been conveniently lost by some dicks who’ve had enough of their children’s kitty. Sorry.”

Solas made a non-committal noise. “People have a distinct tendency to disappoint,” he said a moment later. 

“Oh, assume the worst, be surprised by the less than horrible is pretty much the words I live by,” Ellana told Solas. He gave her an incredulous look. “You don’t think so?” she asked.

Solas inclined his head. Ellana’s attention was drawn to his ears, which surely had to be cold in this weather. He seemed to abhor hats. 

“You brought Mishap to my place and didn’t assume I had nefarious plans for her,” he argued. “Say, skinning her for feline leather.”

“Fur would be better. Could work as a hat.”

“Precisely,” he replied. “You’re the type of person who thinks people are good.”

“I did send your info to a friend in case I was going to be murdered,” she countered. 

“That’s not assuming the worst, that’s just acknowledging an unlikely worst. If you assumed the worst, you would have declined my offer in the first place.”

She laughed, and he gave her a curious look, as though surprised by the sound. “You might have a point. I’m not as jaded and cynical as I’d like to be,” she said finally. 

“I can recommend many different aspirations,” Solas replied, then looked at the last two remaining posters in her hand. “Do you think we should try next to the bakery?”  

It was as good an idea as any. They placed one on a pole by the bakery, and the last one on another bulletin board, bringing them within sight of her apartment. She was beginning to feel rather chipper, and her home beckoned with the prospect of hot tea, and maybe a couple of the scones she’d bought the day before. She’d even tidied a little before leaving in the morning, as insurance in case she ended up inviting Solas up, though she had the impression their relative levels of tidiness were not strictly adjacent. Still, she did live in a small apartment with three cats. Allowances had to be made.

“We’re right near my place now,” she said, a little awkwardly. “Would you like to drop by for tea? I could give you a couple more cans for Mishap, too.”

Solas seemed not to have expected the invitation. She was very much off her game if this was the effect of her charm. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said.

“You’re not being serious, right?” she asked. “You’re fostering a cat I found. We still haven’t exactly settled on the logistics for the handover after the weekend. And I think we’re also on for wine at some point in the future, right? It’s not an imposition to have a cup of tea.”

He seemed to consider it carefully. “Your logic seems sound,” he allowed.

She led him along the paved path to her apartment building, then up three flights of stairs. His building had an elevator, but hers didn’t. “At least I get some exercise this way,” she joked, then opened the two locks and entered her apartment, deftly catching Keeper from her habitual attempt at checking out the outside world.

Solas walked in and helpfully closed the door (her hands were full of a feline). 

“Um, do you mind taking off your shoes?” she asked. 

“Not at all,” he replied.

They both took off their shoes, placing them on the prepared shelf out of cats’ reach, and hung up their coats. He seemed even taller standing in her doorway, next to the hangers that she had to stretch to reach. Or perhaps it was his attire, the dark jeans and a turtleneck sweater, that made him seem taller. He looked around with expected levels of curiosity, taking note of her small living room, which opened onto the kitchen. She pointed him in the direction of the table.

“Give me a minute and I’ll prepare the tea.” She quickly washed her hands in the bathroom and then busied herself with the tea. Hunter approached Solas’s feet under the table and started rubbing himself against his ankles.

“If you have any herbal tea—” Solas said, looking uncertain if he should pet Hunter or leave him alone, in the end settling for an awkward pat over the cat’s head. Keeper, in turn, jumped on the table, gave Solas a curious sniff, and then sauntered over to the cat tree. Solas watched as she scratched the middle post and then climbed to the top, and Ellana got so busy watching Solas that it took her a moment to reply. She glanced at her teabag collection. 

“Oh. Sure. There’s some lemon and ginger infusion? Might be lemongrass, too. And peppermint, whichever you prefer.” 

“The lemon is fine,” he said. 

“I could make coffee,” Ellana offered, but Solas shook his head. 

“I’m actually not a big coffee drinker.” 

She decided to ignore that red flag, for now. “More mysteries?” she asked lightly, and Solas gave a startled laugh. 

“Caffeine doesn’t quite agree with me, that’s all there is to it,” he explained.

“So you could actually put ‘coffee addict’ ahead of some random numbers in your email, for maximum confusion.”

“The next time I change email addresses, that will be top of the list.”

***

If someone had asked Solas to hypothesize what Ellana’s place might look like, he would have probably hazarded a guess along the lines of a bright space, maybe a little eclectic, in that lived-in way places acquired over time, and possibly slightly cat-themed. He might have imagined a few cat pictures on the walls, or a cat-shaped knick-knack or two. 

Well, the cat theme was there but it had the shape of dedicated furniture rather than useless decoration. 

The apartment was small, though bright walls and large windows gave it the impression of some space. But it still, somehow, managed to contain at least two litter boxes, a bunch of cat trees, an assortment of scratching mats (some seemingly integrated into the furniture—that was some way to deal with the problem of cat-related damage), cat beds on top of the cat trees and in addition to the cat trees, and a whole system of walkways attached to the walls under the ceiling, allowing the cats their own separate way to traverse the room.

It was a lot. He did not think he’d ever seen an apartment this dedicated to its non-people inhabitants.  

One of said non-people inhabitants, an all-black creature that had tried to break free out of the apartment earlier, was giving him a sideways look from the top of the cat tree. 

Ellana was almost done with the tea, and so he helped her with the mugs and the spoons. She gave him a bright smile and sat opposite to him, her fingers curling around the mug, her legs ending up in a complicated pretzel on the chair. 

“What is the black cat called?” he asked her, looking for something to say that wasn’t either a remark about her cat furniture choices or something worse, such as telling her what amazing legs she had. 

Ellana followed his gaze to the cat tree’s occupant. “That’s Keeper. She’s a little stand-offish to guests.”

“A good name then.”

“Accident of luck. I was following up on the elven theme from Da’len and Hunter, and Keeper was the next name I came up with.”

Solas took a careful sip of his herbal tea. It was acceptable. And warm. “So you’re saying Mishap could have been Enasalin.”

Apparently ‘victory’ was not beyond Ellana’s language skills, because she snorted a laugh at that. “I think you mean the opposite of that.”

“Didn’t say whose victory she’d be named after,” he explained, “but probably hers. Your home looks like a veritable cat paradise.”

Ellana seemed to find that remark amusing. “I think it’s the nicest way anyone has ever said the apartment is completely catified,” she said. “Usually I get more of a ‘what the fuck’ reaction. Well, except for other cat fanatics, they ask me for specs and prices.”

Solas looked for a way to continue the conversation without coming off nosy or critical. “How long did it take you to transform the space in this way?” he finally asked. 

“It sneaks up on you gradually, and then suddenly you’re the owner of two large cat trees and enough scratchers to support a feral colony,” she replied. “But I think about three years for the biggest changes. And then the last year was less intense. Though to be completely truthful, that may have been a financial decision, in part. Without budgetary considerations, I might have built them a separate floor under the ceiling.”

He thought she was mostly joking, but he still congratulated himself on his decision to have ordered some cat food, and a couple of bags of cat litter, of his own, rather than continuing to rely on Ellana’s own supplies. 

“Which are their favorites?” he asked, looking from one scratcher to the next.

“You know, I’m beginning to suspect you have inferior motives,” replied Ellana. “Nobody asks this many questions about cats unless they’re really very into them or, see above, inferior motives.” 

Solas sincerely hoped he was not blushing. “You caught me,” he said. “I do have a wonderful financial opportunity in Tevinter that I would like to discuss with you.”

“That’s more like it,” sighed Ellana. “Come on, show me the pictures of the bridge.”

“So that’s Keeper. Hunter—” he gestured to the cat sleeping under the table by his feet. “And where’s Da’len?”

“Being a grump,” Ellana said. “He’s somewhat misandrist.”

“Really?” Solas asked, perplexed. He’d never thought cats could have opinions based on people’s genders.

“Well, he doesn’t love guests in general. But especially men.” Ellana looked vaguely amused. “Makes dating complicated. Or, well. The straight-ish part of dating, at least.”

Solas barely avoided choking on his tea.

“I see how that can be an issue,” he said carefully. “Although perhaps also a way to gently let down unattractive prospects. ‘Apologies, my cats found your maleness distasteful’ should serve as a convenient bookend to a less satisfactory liaison.”

“Only the one cat,” countered Ellana. “The others are bribeable.”

He shook his head. “I have on occasion found myself on the wrong end of an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, though not an ‘it’s not me, it’s my cat’.”

“Is there a right end for an ‘it’s not you’ speech?” asked Ellana.  

“There is if you’re not really interested.”

Ellana nodded, one corner of her mouth upturned more than the other, a slight dimple appearing in her cheek. “Good point. I suppose if a man was genuinely interested and interesting, he could be encouraged to engage in a longer campaign to gain Da’len’s approval.”

Solas waved his hand. “A test of perseverance and worthiness.” He had been known to be patient, when the situation warranted.

“But, to bring us back to the point, he’s also simply a little shy.”

“I think I have spent more time around cats this week alone than ever before in my life,” Solas confessed. 

“Were you more of a dog person?” Ellana asked. 

“No, I have never really had pets,” he said. “I guess there were a few more dogs around than there were cats, but never on a regular basis.”

“I’m exactly the opposite, then. I’ve always had cats, never dogs. I’ve been a great friend with some dogs, they just never happened to be mine, or my family’s,” she explained. “And cats have always been around.”

They talked about similar inconsequential topics for a little while longer, and then Solas felt that it was high time he went back to his place. He put down his cup, a little regretfully.

“I’m afraid I must make myself scarce,” he said, and started to get up off his seat. At his feet, Hunter made a slightly surprised noise. “Please let me know if anyone calls to inquire after Mishap?” Somehow, he found himself hoping nobody would call to inquire after Mishap.

“Of course,” said Ellana, also getting to her feet. “Give her some pets from me, will you?”

She grabbed Keeper as Solas put his coat and shoes back on (the cat, peacefully asleep atop the cat tree four minutes ago, was all ready for another attempt at doing a runner). He took it as an indication to hurry up in his goodbyes. 

“We’ll have to find a time for that wine and snacks,” he said, and started to open the door.

“Hey. Thank you for—well, everything,” said Ellana. Solas, halfway out the door, turned to face her (and Keeper). Ellana leaned in, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and stepped back into the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Solas stood there for a moment or two, somewhat dazed, before finally walking down and back to his home.

Chapter Text

A week later, Mishap was still staying with Solas, and Solas was increasingly getting used to living with a cat. Which distinctly differed from having a cat, he told himself. He was merely sharing him premises with a cat, on a temporary basis. 

The alternative foster home Ellana had high hopes for asked for a couple days’ delay as they were adopting off their current cat load. Solas agreed to the prolongation on Ellana’s first timid ask, as Mishap’s presence really wasn’t much of a problem. He offered to go to the vet for the scheduled checkup, during which Mishap bit the vet tech handling her, received another shot for her sniffles, and was pronounced on the mend. She made unappreciative noises at him all the way back and hid under the sofa once he let her out of the carrier, to emerge only at lunchtime. 

She might as well stay until she’s all better, he wrote Ellana that evening. 

are you sure? or are you being nice? 

Solas glanced at Mishap, sleeping over on the pile of his clothes that he’d been meaning to put away when she claimed it, two days prior. It felt mean to deprive her of a nest she clearly liked so much, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t have any other shirts.

We are getting along fine, and there’s no need for her to travel around in carriers more than she needs to.

Ellana  reacted with a string of emojis conveying her joy.

not gonna lie, that’s actually life-saving, she texted right after. the foster home would take her, but they’ll be happier getting another kitten litter, and she shouldn’t come into contact with young cats while she isn’t healthy.

Solas thought Mishap had no business coming into contact with kittens of unknown provenance who could assault her sensitive immune system with new bugs, but decided to keep that part to himself.

The vet said that Mishap could use some supplements for better immunity, he wrote instead, and they devolved into a conversation on the benefits of various cat supplements. It ended up with Solas ordering a brand Ellana recommended, and a few toys and treats for Mishap, just to offset the shipping costs.

But now it was Friday, and they were supposed to meet up for the wine and snacks and explanations of Ellana’s email address. Solas went back and forth over whether he wanted to invite Ellana to his place, or whether they should meet in a restaurant. Option number one could be read to suggest he had designs. Option number two made things less casual. In the end, he decided that a restaurant would inevitably mean having to make decisions about the way to pay the bill, and thus potentially more awkwardness than meeting at his place. Besides, they had Mishap for chaperone and potential conversation starter.

He acquired wine, cheeses, fancy stuffed olives and some crackers. Then, in a panic, he went to the bakery, and also got some breadsticks. Then he had the thought that Ellana would inevitably cancel at the last moment and he would be stuck with the olives, which were too salty and a little too slimy for his taste. 

Ellana didn’t cancel. She appeared exactly three minutes before the hour, bringing more snacks (some sort of flatbread chips, and a dip), and a toy for Mishap. She was wearing the impractical heels again, and a black dress with an open back. A different dress than the one she had been wearing the previous Friday. It immediately became committed to his memory in a way that would be pathetic if he gave it more than a fleeting thought, so he didn’t.  

“Oh, she looks right at home,” Ellana said when Mishap greeted her in the doorway to the room. She promptly dropped to her haunches to pet the cat behind her ears and under her chin. Mishap purred.  “How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Almost zero sneezing,” said Solas proudly. “She’s not very interested in playing on her own, but she likes the feather teaser.”

“She looks better,” said Ellana. “I didn’t want to say anything before, but she was a little too skinny. No issues after deworming?”

He wasn’t sure what kinds of issues he might have expected, so he just shook his head and showed her into the living room. Ellana looked around, taking in the sparse decor, the bookshelves, the paintings on the walls, and then the table spread.

“I love olives,” she exclaimed, which was a minor relief. Then she promptly sat down on the sofa and popped an olive into her mouth, which was the opposite of a relief.

Mistakes had been made.

Ellana declared the wine to be acceptable and they passed the next half an hour or so on the sort of chit-chat that could easily be boring coming from someone less charming and personable. She asked about his work, exclaimed about his books (his collection had rather expanded during the Blight), even located a couple of books on his shelf that she wanted to borrow, suggesting the intention of continued acquaintance. She had some anecdotes about a couple she regularly catsat for, who had completely new plants every time, and new furniture and decor on a regular. “The first time it happened, I opened the door with their key, and I thought I had accidentally mixed up apartments,” she said. “Luckily, the cat is unmistakable. A giant ginger longhair that needs brushing every day. Some people do not know what to do with money.”

Solas didn’t really know what to do with his money, either, but he didn’t solve that problem by spending it on new coffee tables. He could see himself devolving into cat-related purchases, though. 

Good thing he didn’t have a cat.

“So, I’ll tell you about my email if you tell me about yours,” said Ellana after her first modest glass of wine. Her makeup was minimal, but it once again drew attention to her eyes, making them appear larger and brighter somehow. She let her heels drop to the floor, and was now pretzeled in one corner of the sofa. Her hair was slightly disarrayed. She was gorgeous.

“There’s not much to tell,” Solas said. He was sitting back comfortably, his glass still not quite finished. “I simply prefer not to leave too much of a personal digital footprint if I can avoid it.”

Ellana tilted her head. “Is that an IT thing?” she asked. “You did mention being private about your photographs, which I kind of understand, but an email address that’s all random numbers seems to draw attention in its own way. Doesn’t it trigger spam detectors?”

The numbers were not random, but he declined to share that, for fear of follow up questions. “Not that I’ve noticed,” he responded. “And not so much an IT thing, as a—precaution, after my previous workplace dispute. One of my superiors took my leaving personally and continued to hold a grudge. I prefer to remain outside of my former colleagues’ radar.”

Ellana seemed not quite persuaded by his logic, but willing to let it go. “How much more wine would it take to get you to share the story of the previous employment ?” she asked instead.

Solas smiled. “Vastly larger quantities and quality.”

“Noted.”

“And what about—the inquisition?” asked Solas instead.

Ellana grabbed a few crackers and then poured herself a little water. “Well, I have the opposite problem to yours,” she replied. “Or maybe not opposite, perpendicular.” 

“What does that look like?”

“Well. You have to promise not to laugh.” She gave him a serious look. “I would say ‘and not to share with anyone outside this room,’ but I’m going to assume that’s not going to be an issue.”

Solas made a noise that hopefully conveyed his agreement with that sentiment, and decided to refill their glasses.

Ellana took a sip, and pursed her lips for a moment. “The thing is, I actually used to be moderately famous— well, internet famous—for a little while,” she said finally. 

Solas, for all his familiarity with many things digital, found himself utterly at a loss as to what that might mean.

“There was some great stuff and some terrible stuff,” Ellana went on, “but the short version is that for a while there I had a channel where I talked about a bunch of different things. It got me a good number of followers and visibility, which led to participating in various events, a bunch of sponsorships. I went to conventions, met some great people. And with some of those people, we formed this friend group that we jokingly called ‘the inquisition’.” Here Ellana took a sip of the wine and made a face. “And I was actually supposedly their leader, because my channel was the biggest, and I was recognizable. One of the guys bought up the internet domain so we could all have inquisition email accounts.” 

Solas noted that she very much did not elaborate on what exactly her ‘channel’ contained. He expected he could find out easily, if he wanted to. 

“You’re using the past tense,” he said, hoping to prompt her into providing more information.

“At one point the bad outweighed the good, and I quit,” she explained. “There’s only so much hatemail you can receive before it gets to you. I was becoming paranoid, and the money wasn’t even that good anymore.”

“But you kept the email.”

Ellana nodded.

“I kept most of the friends, too. But this whole thing is an in-joke, so it’s not my official email address. For what it’s worth. I use a regular account for work and the like, and this is more of a private email.”

She’d given him her private email, the one she shared with her friends.

“And that’s the short version,” Solas said, wondering what details he could ask about without spooking her.

Ellana gave him a pained-looking smile, and took another sip of her wine. “The really long version you might have needed to be there for. But it would contain episodes like: very angry fans of Qun media conglomerate convinced I’m a shill for the Chantry, entertainment executives from the Chantry convinced that just because they’ve given me some merch I’m no longer allowed to have an opinion other than superlatives, and eventually, my family getting death threats and deciding to stay in a hotel for a few weeks—it was not what I had signed up for.”

Solas blinked a few times. “Over a channel.”

“Yeah, over a bunch of videos and posts that I made to talk about my interests. There were also a few borderline stalkers, but that was more par for the course.”

He felt even more enraged on her behalf. At least when he had found himself infamous and in need of uprooting his life and disappearing, it had been serious . Maybe not life-and-death (only his life, and probably not his death), but certainly the stakes had been high, with tens of millions at stake, thousands of employees’ futures, government contracts, power and influence. Laws being broken, and standards, and the utter lack of simple decency .

When they had tried to make his life unbearable, it was because he had ruined their plans, and much more besides.

Ellana had been hounded out of her work because she had what, ruined some people’s afternoon by having a different opinion. 

“It sounds terribly unfair,” he said. “Though on the bright side, you do seem to have gotten over the paranoia part.”

***

For a moment there, it seemed that Solas was getting if not enraged, then affronted on her behalf, and Ellana wondered if she should give in and share more, or bravely say that it was all, thankfully, in the past. Before she made up her mind, though, it was like he had already shut a lid on all that emotion, and sailed past the topic with a “bright side” comment. 

It was weird. And also, a little agitated was—a good look on him.

“Paranoia never agreed with me,” Ellana said, trying to match the lightness of his tone. “Time helped. Also, thorough spam filters.”

“The importance of filters should not be underestimated,” Solas agreed. “I’ve done substantial work in cybersecurity and that rubs off on one.”

“So your impersonal email address and no photographs rules are professional wisdom, not a personal quirk?” Ellana joked. 

Solas looked sideways before replying, “Perhaps a little of both.”

Ellana shook her head. “So what do you do when you’re not rescuing cats or securing cybers?”

It was so easy to wind him up by mentioning his help. Blushing slightly, he looked away once again, searching for something to focus on. Alas, Mishap had chosen to make herself scarce, depriving him of a way to change the subject this easily.

Ellana took the opportunity to look at Solas more openly, taking in the planes of his face, the sharp eyebrows, the eyelashes framing his grey-blue eyes. She was reminded of Cassandra’s and Dorian’s comments about him, and suddenly she was blushing too. She had dressed up for the meeting like a date without once confirming that it in fact was one. She thought she had communicated her openness to the prospect well enough, but his signals were decidedly mixed.

Though he had checked her out when she arrived, and he was still fostering Mishap. Granted, the latter could simply be due to Mishap’s own allure. Some people simply didn’t know they needed a cat in their life until one was thrown in their lap, or put into their arms by a stranger in the street. Or at least that was what Ellana chose to believe.

“Cat saving is definitely not a habit,” Solas said, interrupting her train of thought. “It was more of a fortunate accident.”

“Certainly fortunate for me and for Mishap,” agreed Ellana. “Though I hope you are enjoying your good deed, or at least the clout you’re earning among your own friends.”

He nodded his agreement, though she was not sure if that was to the first or the second part of her statement. “As to my other pursuits, there are always books,” he said, pointing to his many and impressive shelves. “I used to travel, once, but I think you could say the Blight has interrupted my routine, and I have yet to develop a new one.”

“Let me know if you find something you recommend,” said Ellana. “My friends have been on my case to ‘get out of my shell’ and ‘try new things’.”

“You don’t seem to be very locked into a shell,” Solas said. Ellana blushed again, and thought she should have some more water. And olives. And maybe a breadstick.

“That’s what I told my friends, but apparently cats don’t count as company, and school doesn’t count as a hobby,” she said.

“What about the other way around, then?” Solas asked.

“That’s what I said,” Ellana agreed emphatically. “Still, they’ve been on my case pretty horribly to meet new people. That was the only reason I even went on that date the other week, and to what end? It was a disaster, and then I found a cat.”

“I suppose I should be thanking your friends, in that case,” he offered, and Ellana almost bit her tongue. It was a date.

Obviously, that was the moment that Mishap chose to walk into the room. She went to the center of the rug, sat on her hind legs, wrapping her tail around her paws, and gave Solas a long, judgmental look. 

“Is it her feeding time?” Ellana asked, amused. 

“She seems to consider all time to be her feeding time,” admitted Solas. “I’ve been reading all about the importance of routine, but Mishap doesn’t believe in it yet.” He paused. “Admittedly, many articles also say that when they are under a year old, they just want to eat all the time, and there should be more leeway. Especially since she’s not been spayed yet.”

“Oh, you’ve been reading, haven’t you?” 

“I prefer to approach situations as well-informed as I can,” he replied.

Ellana watched as Mishap stretched herself lazily, then started grooming her face. The cold seemed to belong to the past. It would be best to spay her now, and keep her at her current place for the process, but asking someone to look after a young cat with a cold was not quite the same as asking them to see the cat through post-surgical convalescence, even if the surgery was as routine as neutering, and as non-invasive as a keyhole spay. 

She looked up from the cat to catch Solas staring at her, lost in thought that was probably dedicated to a very different subject than hers had been. She waited for him to look away, or break the silence, but the moment stretched uncomfortably, headily, until Mishap took pity on them and walked up to Ellana to cautiously sniff her foot. 

Then she made the most perfect disgusted cat face, her jaw falling down, her eyes crossed.

“Mishap,” Solas breathed in reproach. 

Ellana smiled. “It’s called flehmen response! I bet she can smell my herd on me.” She had come to a point of decision, she felt. She could take this opening and go, or she could press her advantage and see where it would take them. All it would take might be one small push and she would know the kind of kisser he was. Probably a well-read one, but hopefully also one who valued hands-on experience.

Or it might spook him. This was a date, she was almost sure of it, but what if his pace differed from hers. And what if spooking him meant Mishap needing to be shuffled around, or—even worse—that he would still keep her a while longer, but every single conversation with him would be unbearably awkward.

Ellana made a decision. She straightened her spine. “Speaking of my herd, they do have a routine, and I think I should go and make sure Keeper gets her evening vitamins.” Not the smoothest of exits, but it had to suffice.

Solas briefly looked surprised at her abruptness, or perhaps disappointed, then tried to cover that with a blank look. “Certainly. We should talk about the next steps, though.”

Ellana blinked quickly. “We should?” It took her a second to gather that he meant Mishap’s care. “Of course. Unfortunately, if we haven’t found the previous owners by now, the chances drop exponentially. If someone was looking for her, we should have heard by now.”

Solas’s face remained impassive as he replied, “Good. I admit, I was wary of returning her to a home that would let her escape, unspayed and in cold weather.”

“I got a couple of messages asking if she’s adoptable,” Ellana said. “So that part should not be a problem. Though—I’ll be honest with you, I’d really rather have her spayed and fully vaccinated before she moves to a new place. And adoptions don’t always work out.”

“Too much stress at the same time can heighten the risk of serious feline diseases,” said Solas. 

That it did. Ellana would rather not think about that too hard, truth be told. She shook her head. 

“So how long are we talking about?” Solas asked. “Spaying, recovery, a round of vaccines?”

Ellana didn’t need to do mental calculations, she had been running them all along. “Around a month. We probably won't manage to get an appointment right away, so there might be a little wait. And it’s also likely they will want to do bloodwork first, to make sure she’s good to go under anaesthesia.”

“That makes sense,” said Solas, although she could swear that he briefly winced upon hearing “anaesthesia”. 

Mishap jumped on the table in front of him and proceeded to sniff the now empty plate of snacks.

“Not cat food,” said Ellana automatically, as she would to her own cats, and moved to get the plate out of the cat’s reach. Mishap gave her a disbelieving glare, a moment later turning to look pleadingly at Solas. 

“I suppose I should feed her,” Solas said, getting up. He took the plate from Ellana, while Mishap jumped to the floor and rubbed herself against his feet. Ellana smiled. 

She took her time putting on her shoes while Solas led Mishap to the kitchen; she heard the telltale clinks of cutlery on a dish while he talked to the cat in a low voice. Ellana paused, trying to discern the words, but all she got was the soothing, sexy tone.

She shook her head, and reminded herself he was talking to a cat . Then again, being the kind of person who spoke to a cat was a plus for her.

Ellana made her way to the hallway and took her coat off the hanger before Solas emerged out of the kitchen.

“I don’t think there should be any issues with her staying here until she’s healed from the spay and vaccinated,” he said, as if there had been no interruption in their conversation. “Do you want that vet she already knows to be doing the procedure, or do you have other preferences?”

“I was thinking I would call a few different places,” Ellana explained. “Ask for their availability, price ranges and whether they do the keyhole spay—it’s really much less of a bother for everyone involved.”

Solas nodded. “And meanwhile, hope that she doesn’t go into heat before the surgery.”

“Oh, yeah. Fingers crossed,” Ellana said, making a face.

“As to the price ranges, I will cover all the costs, of course. So should it be a case of waiting longer for a cheaper clinic, you don’t need to worry.”

Ellana was very torn between telling him that wasn’t necessary and jumping up in relief. The rescue group she’d contacted told her they would be more than okay helping to raise funds for Mishap’s medical bill, but of course, she was well aware that they had dozens of cats in their care, and many of them needed more urgent (and life-saving) treatment than Mishap.

“That’s—incredibly nice of you,” she said, and before she had a chance to think about it, she took a step forward to give him a small kiss on the cheek by way of thanks. 

She’d miscalculated the precariousness of her heels, or maybe Solas had made a slight move towards her, because the next thing she knew, she was kissing him full on the lips and he had his hands on her upper arms, steadying her, lest she would fall.

Or perhaps that was what she had meant to do all along, merely lying to herself in the process. 

They parted, though Solas was still holding onto her, his long fingers curling around her arms, their faces only inches away. His eyes looked more purple than grey in the dim light of the hallway. Ellana made a small noise. Solas took a sharp breath. 

And then they were kissing again, more properly this time. Any questions Ellana might have had about the kind of kisser Solas was were being answered as his tongue sought entry into her mouth. She met him with hers, her heartbeat frantic, her breathing shallow. 

He was a very good kisser.

Solas held her closer, one of his arms wrapped around her back, his other hand cupping her face. Ellana made another small noise into his mouth, inadvertently. 

Solas broke the kiss and took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. He made to say something, then stopped before forming the words, then cleared his throat. “I—well—We have—”

A part of Ellana wanted to wait in silence until he managed to say anything meaningful, but another feared what that might sound like. There was something about it that suggested some kind of ‘we shouldn’t.’ She looked him right in the eye. “Why don’t we talk about it later,” she suggested, then reached for his left hand with her right. “I’ve had a lovely time this evening,” she said.

He didn’t withdraw his hand from her grasp, and he didn’t look away from her. The intensity of his stare sent her heartbeat running once again. He took a deeper breath. “Me too,” he admitted.

She didn’t remember walking home at all.

Chapter Text

To her cats’ delight, Ellana digs herself out of her bed early on Saturday morning, feeds the rowdy beasts, has her first coffee and yesterday’s bagel, and sets out on her date with Merrill. They are supposed to meet at a bus stop near their destination—an abandoned plant where kestrels apparently make their nests. Ellana has read a tiny bit about kestrels over the week, even managing to find (but not read—it’s very esoteric) one article written by Merrill herself, but for the most part, she is going in blind. 

She has been waiting for about ten minutes, scrolling a reading for one of her courses on her phone, when Merrill’s bus finally arrives and her date steps out of it. She looks much like the picture Evelyn sent her, a medium-height, willowy elf with large eyes and thin lips. Her dark hair is cropped short. She wears hiking boots, green-grey military-looking leggings and top, and carries a large backpack. Her message said to dress comfortably and in something Ellana wouldn’t mind getting muddy, followed by an explanation that getting muddy wasn't necessarily going to be happening, but, just in case. That definitely took away some anxiety related to how seductive Ellana is supposed to look.

“Thank you for being so accommodating!” says Merrill after they first exchange their hellos. “I try to make it here every Saturday to track the keses’ arrivals. It’s only a short walk from here.”

Short turns out to be a relative term. They walk along the road for a little while, then turn into a footpath that cuts across a field. “There’s a road cars would use, of course, but it goes around,” Merrill explains. “Although I do realize now that I am taking you to a rather secluded location.”

“I’m not sure if you saying that out loud makes me feel worse,” admits Ellana. She is reasonably sure she could tackle Merrill if necessary, but unfamiliarity with the surroundings might put her at a disadvantage in further steps. “So is this kestrel watching more business or more pleasure?”

“It's both, but I'm not really gathering a lot of hard data now, only the basics,” says Merril. “Also, it's just picturesque.”

Ellana isn’t sure she’d call abandoned industrial sites “picturesque,” exactly, but there is something to them. Possibly the something is survival horror vibes with traces of having tetanus no further than at arm’s reach at all times.

They trudge along to a rusty side door in the wire fence. Merrill takes a suspiciously shiny key out of her pocket and lets them in. Ellana wonders briefly whether it is actually legal for them, or at least for her, to even be here: a question she might have brought up earlier, and that now seems particularly panicky and uncool.

“Look, there’s one there now,” says Merrill, pointing up at the sky. It takes Ellana a moment to catch the right perspective and see a shape, not much larger than a dot, moving like a kite hovering in the wind. Merrill silently hands Ellana a pair of binoculars. “Set it up however it works for you, I have a second pair ready,” she says. 

Ellana regulates the focus on the binoculars and looks back up at the sky. Even with the limited magnification, the bird is much more impressive seen this way, with its rusty plumage and aerodynamic shape. “Are they very rare?” 

Merrill shakes her head. “No, they’re relatively well adapted to the modern world, unlike their less common falcon cousins. You can meet kestrels in cities, nesting in tall buildings, and in the wilder areas, too. There was much population loss a couple of decades ago, due to pesticides, but they’re slowly rebuilding. That’s not why I like them, though. Common things can be no less valuable than rare ones.”

Ellana is back to watching the kes, which has started circling a little, his movements—or maybe her movements—seemingly effortless against the wind. The bird gives a loud, chirping cry  and dives after his prey. 

“If we follow a bit further in, I’ll show you where they nest,” says Merrill.  The kes returns to the sky, and they watch him carry off a small, twitching carcass. “Damn, you’re lucky,” breathes Merrill. “I didn’t see one execute a successful hunt until I’d been watching them for months.” Ellana feels stupidly proud, as if she had carried out the hunt herself. 

“There’s a number of them in the city, and once you know what to look out for, you will see them everywhere,” Merrill explains, leading the way closer to the empty plant. “They also nest in regularly used buildings, but there’s an entire colony out here. I’m tracking its behavior, breeding season to breeding season.”

“This is incredibly cool,” says Ellana. Merrill looks gratified.

“Yeah, it’s very fun,” she says. 

She points out the nest locations, many of which are still empty in the off-season, and then explains a little more about the kestrels’ behavioral patterns across the year.

“So is it only kestrels that interest you?” Ellana asks. 

“For my PhD? Yep. My supervisor said I needed a narrow focus. But I observe other birds of prey, too. Just, in less detail.”

“There’s also buzzards in this area, right?” Ellana prompts, digging facts out of her memory. Birds are somewhat interchangeable to her. 

“A little further away from the city. They prefer trees, for the most part,” Merrill explains, and points to a small building to the side of the path. “Okay, we can go inside here, this used to be a guard booth. It’s a nice vantage point, and we’ll be shielded from the wind. We can have a picnic. I have sandwiches.”

“I brought cupcakes,” Ellana says. Merrill’s messages suggested taking along something to snack on. “Store-bought, though.”

The inside of the guard booth is surprisingly un-gross. Not exactly clean, but mostly free of the kind of disgusting stuff (rat droppings, trash left by squatters, spiders ) Ellana would expect. There’s some wooden planks that could serve as a table, and Merrill digs a utilitarian-looking blanket out of her backpack to spread across for them. They pour tea into reusable cups that Merrill’s also brought, and then have a sandwich each.

“Tell me about yourself,” says Merrill. “Your life. The things that make you happy.”

Ellana goes over the most pertinent pieces of information. Getting the degree, writing copy, rescuing cats. She shows Merrill a few pictures, her camera roll dominated by her three overlords. Still, it only takes little scrolling to get to Mishap’s pictures. 

“Oh, is this a fourth cat?” asks Merrill. 

“It’s a cat I catsit sometimes,” obfuscates Ellana. “Her name’s Mishap.” She hopes no follow-up questions crop up about the fact that her phone is not full of every cat she catsits. The others get a few pictures so she can send them to the owners, often deleted afterwards. In contrast, there is rather a lot of Mishap in her phone’s memory.

The things that make her happy. Now that’s a question to ponder. She shakes her head.

“Evelyn told me you used to have a popular blog,” says Merrill. 

Ellana makes a face. “Channel, but close enough. Yeah, it was a lot, and then I hated it.”

“So you don’t miss it,” says Merrill.

“Like a hole in the head,” replies Ellana. “I have this dream where I realize I forgot to post some scheduled promotional material and now I have a prize on my head for ruining some executive’s carefully planned marketing strategy. And another where I posted something innocent like I like ice-cream, and there’s a crowd with pitchforks in front of my building, demanding my head for destroying the frozen yogurt industry.”

Merrill gives her a closer look. “That is a very specific image.”

“The issues differ, the scene stays the same,” replies Ellana. 

“I only asked because you do seem to be missing something. There is a sadness about you.”

Ellana blinks slowly, like this is a way to disarm Merrill and prevent her from continuing the attack. Sometimes it works with cats.

“Are you hung up on somebody?” Merrill asks, very gently.

“Can I have the next question?” replies Ellana. “Wow, you cut to the quick.”

Merrill seems to take this as a compliment. “I could tell in ten minutes that we were not going to date,” she explains, matter-of-factly. “No romantic potential.”

Ellana narrows her eyes. “I’ll have you know that I’m a catch,” she says, a little snittily. 

“Oh, absolutely. No doubt about it. So am I,” says Merrill. “We just won’t be catching each other. We can still do lunch, though?”

“Haven’t we just eaten?” asks Ellana, a little confused. 

“Yes, but my plan was to show you some more of the grounds, take some quick notes, grab a bus back to the city and then have a romantic lunch. But we can have a friendly lunch instead, with minimal adjustments.”

Ellana thinks, the group chat will not let me live it down, and agrees.

***

Solas wakes up early, with no small assistance of Mishap, who likes to announce her needs and requirements vocally, and if that does not help, through brutal violence perpetrated against feet. Solas hasn’t really needed to set an alarm clock in more than a year. 

He spends his morning with a book, then some light tidying (it never really stops when one has a cat), but around noon, he begins to feel restless. Mishap, having received her breakfasts (plural), and morning portion of exercise and pets, is making the best of the day by sleeping it away. Solas feels drawn to his computer, in order to tinker with his project (there are surely some new messages on the board he could reply to, or data he could review), or worse, so much worse, to his phone in order to text Ellana, which he categorically mustn’t do. 

The city of Markham offers all possible entertainments during weekends. Museums. Concerts. Theaters, cinemas and even sporting events (ugh). There are places to go alone, and places to go with friends, parks and boulevards and shopping centers. Classes and clubs and workshops and whatever else one could want.

Solas used to do things once, certainly. Back in Arlathan, he worked more than his fair share, during the weekends, too, but he had hobbies, and friends. On a Saturday, he would go out with them, or stay home and paint. Felassan took him hiking sometimes. Mythal—he’d rather not think about Mythal.

For the umpteenth time, he considers the prospect of picking up running. It’s a thing to do, on your own, it keeps you healthier, and when people ask you about yourself, you can say you run . But then, it requires you to run, so the concept gets abandoned as quickly as it was picked up.

He resolves to go out, to the city, have a walk and then lunch. Spontaneously, unplanned. Maybe visit a bookstore or two on his way. A record store, perhaps. He could start collecting vinyls. Ellana would roll her eyes so hard. 

Ellana wouldn’t roll her eyes, because she would never learn anything about it, he reminds himself. Unless Mishap blabbed on him. She does have opinions on the music he listens to, and expresses them by glaring and fluffing up her ears. He has yet to find something she approves of, and her opinions range from indifference to utter disgust (that’s anything with prominent violins).

The day is nice, for early spring, with just enough sun to make the chill in the air almost pleasant. He wears a scarf, and forgets to take a hat, and by the time he gets to the city center, having walked part of the way, he is feeling distinctly more upbeat. 

The bookstore turns out to be having an end-of-winter, airing-the-shelves sale, which Solas wouldn’t have thought to be a thing, but which he takes advantage of anyway. He leaves the bookstore with a complimentary tote bag full of freshly purchased books. This almost makes him feel accomplished enough that he considers going back home for lunch after all. He passes the bus stop and sees that he’s just missed a connection, and the prospect of having to wait a quarter of an hour for the next one persuades him to follow through with the original plan. He passes a few restaurants before stopping in front of a small cozy place that does not look like it’s either a business lunch destination or specifically catering to the college student populace only. He opens the door and it quietly closes behind him. A member of the staff is with him momentarily. “Welcome, will that be a table for one?” they ask him. 

They take him across the floor to a small table in a corner. The seat is comfortable, the table clean, the menu short. He orders Antivan hors d’oeuvres (mostly out of curiosity) and a salad (because after having appetisers, he will not have a full main). He notes that the place is mostly vegetarian. 

He takes out one of his new purchases, a non-fiction book about the polar regions, and flips through the first few pages. The ambient noise of the restaurant is oddly soothing. There are a few customers there aside from him, a couple engaged in a quiet conversation over what seems to be bowls of some kind of stew, a small group of friends, rather louder, but not so loud that he would be able to hear specific words. The wait person brings him a glass of water and some puffed rice to snack on before his order arrives.

Solas is almost finished with the chapter when the door opens again. He feels a wave of cold air first, and then hears a low, quiet voice with a marked Northern accent. He doesn’t raise his eyes from the page, engrossed in a description of weather-proofing a tent for extremely low temperature and strong winds.

Thus, he is caught rather off-guard when the arrivals stop next to his table and he hears a much more familiar voice—Ellana’s voice—address him.

“Oh, hi, Solas, what a coincidence.”

He startles almost comically, feeling as though his thoughts (he hasn’t been thinking about her that much) had called Ellana here. He looks up, and she’s standing there, her expression a little uncertain, a stranger at her side. A good-looking elven stranger, or at least good-looking if you’re into lean, big-eyed, short haired elven women dressed for hiking or possibly combat. Ellana’s wearing a similar getup, though her shoes are not as thoroughly covered in mud stains. “Yes. Coincidence. Hi.”

“Um, Solas, this is Merrill. Merrill, this is Solas. He’s actually Mishap’s owner. The, um, not-my-fourth-cat.”

Of course, it makes perfect sense that Ellana would make new friends. Or go on dates. He’s torn between being certain that this is a date and being certain that this is not Ellana’s date attire from the three (four? yes, four, counting the first night they met) times he’s seen her dressed for romantic circumstances.

“Oh,” says Merrill. 

Well, it is a date then.

Merrill gives him a long and searching look. “A pleasure to meet you,” she (presumably) lies. “You have a very cute cat.”

“Thank you.” He expects that this exhausts possible avenues of polite conversation. 

“Well, enjoy your meal, then,” says Ellana. “We’ll take our seats.” She grabs Merrill’s hand (a second? third? date) and they follow the wait person to their table, leaving Solas to his book, which could as well be gibberish for all he can see of it now.

By the time the food arrives, he  has all but lost his appetite, busy not looking at the table on his left, not listening in to the table on his left, and also not wondering what the table on his left (Ellana’s table) is up to. Presumably food and conversation.

He manages to take a few difficult bites of his appetizers and finally focuses enough to read a couple more pages. It doesn’t have to be this weird. Ellana and him are acquaintances and acquaintances can run into each other without awkwardness. Instead of speaking in monosyllables, he could have given her a more detailed yet still quick update on Mishap’s reaction to allergy meds that he’s withheld from texting as insufficiently significant to bother her with. But even if he hadn’t, that’s fine. She’s here on a date, and he’s here to have lunch. He’ll finish it and go. 

He is halfway through his main course when there’s some movement at the table to his left. Ellana’s date gets up and makes to go to the bathroom (presumably). She notices him looking, and gives him an awkward smile as she passes his table.

Ellana turns towards him and also catches him looking right at her. He would not make a very successful spy (so it’s a good thing that part of the work is left to others). She hesitates a moment, but then comes over, and sits down, taking the free chair next to him. 

“How’s Missy?” she asks, and then steals an almond-stuffed olive from his half-unfinished plate of appetizers. 

“She’s fine,” Solas says, putting down his fork and pushing the plate of appetizers a little further towards her. “Sorry I didn’t text you, I didn’t want to spam you with updates. The antihistamines made her relatively lethargic the first two days, and she’s been okay since. The symptoms have practically disappeared. Her eyes have never looked better.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ellana says, and sounds genuinely happy. “Are you planning to take her in for a checkup?” She grabs a second olive.

“The doctor said it wasn’t necessary, so we are spared that ordeal.” 

Ellana nods. “Great. But in case—” she pauses for a moment. “Well, let me know if there are any changes before our next catsitting.”

“Of course,” Solas says. “I’ll confirm the details. But now, don’t let me keep you. Your—friend will be back soon.”

Ellana rolls her eyes but doesn’t correct him on the terminology. She leaves with a third olive. That still leaves him with a handful he’s not precisely interested in eating. Her friend rejoins her in a couple of minutes, and they lean towards each other in quiet conversation. 

It would probably be weird if he brought the rest of the olives over to their table. Could be seen less as a friendly gesture, and more as staking the territory. Not that there is any territory to stake. Ellana and him are done and over with. They are on friendly terms. 

He does not bring them the olives. He finishes the salad, and most of the appetizers (they taste good, but the finer points are lost on him) before the table on his left gets their courses. He pays the check, nods to Ellana, and takes his leave.

It might have been preferable (and definitely less emotionally wrought)  to take up running after all.

Chapter Text

Solas expected that he would find sleep elusive, after their date, and the two glasses of wine, but instead, he found himself falling into dreamless oblivion as soon as he went to bed, some two hours after Ellana had left. She texted him from home, confirmation of getting safe to her place. He took entirely too long responding, choosing his words carefully, only for her to write back instantly.

Ellana was fascinating. Earnest despite the ways that she had been hurt. All next morning, he found himself waiting for her texts, checking his phone all too often, thinking about an excuse to write her first.

Instead, when his phone finally rang, it was the other phone, and for an entirely different reason.

It was a nasty clash with reality. He hadn’t heard from his lawyer in over a year, save for an occasional email, and seeing his number was alarming enough. The news he brought—a friend of his being threatened with criminal prosecution, the request for him to be deposed once again—was worse. It could well be a trap, something his enemies meant to use to lure him out of hiding. But he couldn’t let his friend take the fall, not when he had the means to clear her. 

It was also incredibly inopportune timing , given everything going on with Mishap. 

His regular phone chimed a few minutes later, Ellana letting him know that she’d called the vet clinics and found a date for the spay at an improbably named Halla and Dales Clinic. 

Solas stared at the phone for a long moment, but realized this was only delaying the inevitable. Do you mind if I call you? he wrote.

Instead of replying, Ellana called him. 

“No good conversation ever starts with ‘do you mind if I call you’,” she said. 

Solas sort of wanted to disagree on principle, but the note of humor in her voice brought him short. “I do have a bit of a hiccup,” he said, and explained that he had to leave town on a work emergency, preferably the following day, and that he would have to be absent for at least three days. He made sure to emphasize he was very sorry for the inconvenience.

“Okay,” said Ellana after what felt like a very long while. “Okay, okay. Well, shit. I’ll just take her into my bathroom after all.”

Solas thought he’d misheard. “What?”

“You’re leaving, someone needs to take care of Mishap. It’s okay.” Her tone said it was very much not okay, but she was making an effort not to make it his problem. And then it hit him: she thought he was using an excuse to dump Mishap on her. 

He glanced over to where Mishap was napping in a spot of sunlight, and experienced an intense urge to cancel everything to spend the week staring at the cat. The algorithms on his phone were already hard at work spitting out headlines informing him that just looking at pets could lower one’s blood pressure and improve overall mood. 

“I think we’re having a misunderstanding,” he said, trying hard to sound calm. “I don’t want to give Mishap up, but I am dealing with an unforeseen emergency. I wondered if I could impose on your time for some catsitting, and for taking her to the vet for the preliminary tests. I hope to be back by Friday, and I’ll just take over then.” 

Ellana went silent for so long that he wondered if she was still there.

“It would probably be better not to move her, even if you’re not there,” she said. “But are you sure you won’t mind me coming over to catsit?” she asked. “Her being so young, I would probably want to come by at least three times a day, and definitely spend a few hours with her after the vet visit, so that she won’t feel abandoned.”

“It sounds like it will be more taxing to you than to me,” Solas pointed out. “To have to come to my place on top of your usual workload.” To tell the truth, she’d been oblique enough about her work that he wasn’t entirely sure what the “usual” workload was, but he assumed it must consume some percentage of her day.

“That’s the least of the problems,” Ellana said. “I’d just bring my laptop over. But again, are you okay with me being at your place? Without you there?”

Solas paused.

It was almost funny that she was the one worried about his privacy. It hadn’t crossed his mind, mostly because all that was sensitive information was safely stored, encrypted, unavailable. His things were only objects, carrying little meaning. He liked his books, but there were books everywhere. He had a couple of photographs, but he doubted they could mean anything to her, or that she would be moved to publicize them in spaces where they might mean something to someone.

He didn’t mind her being at his place. He found himself strangely keen on the idea.

“It’s fine. I have a second set of keys.”

They made a plan for her to drop by and pick them up later that evening. She jokingly demanded bribery in the form of something sweet. Solas made a mental note to drop by the bakery before Ellana’s visit, and then went to finesse the details of his travel itinerary.

***

“He asked you to catsit,” Cassandra repeated.

Ellana nodded and realized that Cassandra wouldn’t be able to see it on the phone. “Yeah.”

“He asked you to catsit. At his place. While he’s away.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s definitely planning to murder you and he’s establishing an alibi,” Cassandra said.

Ellana huffed. “What kind of an alibi is that, if he knows I gave you his address. Also, what’s even Mishap’s place in all of this?”

“How should I know, do I seem like a deranged killer to you?” Cassandra asked, a little indignant, and couldn’t be persuaded to let go of the subject until Ellana promised updates every ten minutes.

“We should establish a code word for situations like these,” Cassandra said at long last.

“For situations of me being in imminent danger of murder?” Ellana joked.

“You laugh, but better safe than sorry.”

“There is going to be an intervention to stop you from watching more true crime dramas.”

“The joke is on you, I mostly do podcasts. While working out to maximize my physical condition in case I need to defend you all.”

Cassandra was pulling her leg, probably. But she still wanted those updates.

Solas was busy when Ellana stopped by his place to pick up the keys. He did offer her tea and some high quality baked goods, but Ellana could see that he was in the middle of packing, with Mishap sitting guard for him, both laptop and desktop screen on. She didn’t want to intrude, and at the same time she wanted to ask him so many questions. About the emergency. About what he had meant when he said he didn’t want to give Mishap up. About what he thought about their kiss. About whether he thought about it at all.

She had been thinking about it. A lot. And she hadn’t told anyone yet.

For a moment there, when she called and he told her about the emergency, she’d thought he was—ending things, she wanted to say, but there was nothing to end, was there? But that was her first reaction: that he’d hated the kiss. He’d hated her disappearing and not putting out. He was returning the cat to her, and he was out of her life. He’d had the time to think it over, and wanted nothing more to do with her. 

To be honest, catsitting had been the furthest thing from her mind.

When Ellana woke up the next morning, there were already a few text messages from Solas on her phone. She’d asked him to let her know that he got to the airport (entirely selfishly; if he’d missed the plane, she wouldn’t need to get out of her bed early), and he followed through. 

Let me know if Mishap is okay, he wrote in the last text, and Ellana rolled her eyes fondly. Classic first-time travelling for a new cat owner. Even one who didn’t yet know that he was a cat owner.

She fed her own merry band of furballs, packed up her laptop, and set out across the neighborhood for Solas’s place. 

She let herself into the building, and then the apartment, without any issues. Mishap trotted out to greet her in the hallway, and Ellana could actually see the expression of surprise appearing on the cat’s face when she realized that the person walking in was not Solas.

“Hey, baby,” said Ellana, and leaned to let Mishap sniff her hand. “How are you?”

Mishap looked at her in disbelief and walked off in the direction of the kitchen. Ellana took off her boots and jacket, and followed.

It was always distinctly odd to be in someone else’s apartment without them there. It was even more so when it was the apartment of someone Ellana had just enthusiastically made out with two days before. 

She found the can with Mishap’s food, and put it into the bowl. Mishap smelled it once, smelled it again, and walked away disdainfully. It was Ellana’s turn to stare. But, well. With no other cats around, the food could wait until Mishap decided she would deign to start eating. 

arrived. Mishap’s fine. no evidence of crazy partying, she texted Solas, and proceeded to inform Cassandra she was alive and well.

Thanks, he wrote back a few minutes later. There’s cinnamon rolls in the cabinet over the sink, feel free to eat them. And to make yourself some coffee.

You’re too kind, Ellana wrote, and went to investigate the cabinet. Do you mind if I install myself in the living room?  

He didn’t.

Ellana had a genuinely productive morning. She ate the cinnamon rolls, had some coffee, and wrote some articles. She sent periodic updates to Cassandra. She checked the litter box and changed Mishap’s water, and put some more food into her bowl after the first portion had mysteriously disappeared. Mishap wasn’t very interested in playing this time, although she did observe the feather teaser carefully, so there was that. Ellana snapped some pictures—Mishap was a very photogenic cat—and sent a couple to Solas. This time, he took the time to respond; she supposed the emergency was real and demanded his attention after all. 

The second visit was shorter; Ellana stopped by on her way to do some shopping. She gave Mishap her afternoon snacks, and checked that everything was alright. Mishap observed her impassively from on top of a tall shelf, once again refused to eat in front of curious eyes, and only stared at Ellana distrustfully when she waved a mouse-shaped toy.

“You have made your preference known, girl,” said Ellana after a while. She was torn between feeling disappointed that Mishap was so indifferent to her—her, a veritable cat expert and Mishap’s initial personal savior—and amused at how quickly the cat had bonded to Solas.

She opened the groupchat, scrolled through the latest messages (mostly Dorian recounting an anecdote about a cute guy with a dog he’d just met, and wondering how to tell if he was or was not gay), and then posted a pic of Mishap and wrote,

guys, I hate to say this, but if he does not adopt her, I am going to be so disappointed  

No shit, Ellana, wrote Leliana instantly. You get invested faster than a venture capitalist.

still alive btw, should I send a selfie to confirm my id? Ellana replied, and Cassandra sent back an eyeroll.

In the evening, Ellana did a quick inspection of the apartment, looking for evidence of potential feline crimes. Aside from a bit of litter scattered around, and some paw prints on the kitchen window, she found none. Solas’s apartment remained noticeably tidy, in contrast to Ellana’s more cramped space where there was always a little bit of chaos peeking through, in one place or another. Not to mention certain amounts of stray litter carried around on twelve cat paws.

She sent another picture of Mishap to Solas, together with a quick summary of the day. 

I am eternally grateful to you, he wrote back.

How was your day? she asked.

The three dots appeared on the screen, hung there for a while, and then disappeared.

Tedious, he wrote finally. Ellana stared at the screen, expecting some more details to come, but Solas apparently decided that had been information enough.

Sorry to hear that, she wrote. Did you at least have any decent food?

It sounded inane, phrased like that, but local food was supposed to be a perk of travelling and a safe topic for conversation. Although, come to think of it, he hadn’t actually told her where he was going, had he? Only that he needed to be at the airport at five a.m. So possibly there wasn’t any interesting food to be had where he was.

I haven’t really had time for that. I’ve only just made it to the hotel, he replied.

Room service, then? she suggested.

I’ve been thinking hotel restaurant, but you might be right, actually. 

make sure not to die of hunger, Missy seems very partial to your presence
I would probably also take offense

Solas took a long time to respond once more. He might have been pondering his reply, he might have been dealing with the room service. Finally, all he sent back was

Noted.

Ellana still assessed it as awkwardly flirty. 

***

Solas disliked travelling, disliked planes, disliked commuting from the airport to the city, and disliked hotels. He’d spent most of the day talking to the lawyer and getting prepared for the deposition, which was its own kind of hell, but at least there was some point to that. Sileal was in good spirits, for someone accused of breaking a non-disclosure agreement with a side of corporate espionage. 

“They don’t even care about her,” said Sileal’s lawyer. “It’s simply a scare tactic, to ensure no one else breaks ranks and testifies against Evanuris upper management. Frankly, the NDA is unenforceable, and I don’t expect to have any trouble getting that part of the suit thrown out. The corporate espionage is worse, but we’ll be using whistleblower statutes to argue everything Sileal did was in the interest of the public good. I can’t really guarantee that the court will see it that way, though.”

Solas was familiar with that. He had been granted his whistleblower status only with much opposition. And look how much good it had done him. He’d still ended up vilified in the press, accused of a laundry list of misdeeds, only some of which had been actually true, or his fault, and most of which had been twisted beyond all recognition from his intended goals or their actual effects. Still, it was better than allowing the company to accomplish their plans, or to silence him like they had Mythal.

He made it to his hotel tired and hungry. He needed a shower, some food, and sleep. 

His phone chimed with updates from Ellana. Upon seeing Mishap’s picture, Solas felt a little fuzzy around the edges. And then Ellana’s suggestion to order room service was an actual life-saver. In the time it took for the food to arrive, Solas took that shower and managed to achieve a state of being a little less worn out. Or, at least, of not falling down on his feet. 

Ellana sent him a picture of Mishap’s empty bowl. Next serving coming up right before I leave , she wrote. you don’t want me locking her up in the spare room, just in case?

He responded with a photo of his freshly arrived dinner, then felt silly about doing it, but it was too late to take it back. Apparently, people did that sort of thing all the time.

Give Mishap some treats from me. No locking up necessary.

she’s been very well behaved so far. a little shy, Ellana texted. 

Solas wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but Ellana had already sent another message,

and I hope your emergency is going fine?

It’s going , he wrote after a moment. 

mysterious as ever. 

Not mysterious. It’s just not very exciting for anyone uninvolved. There was no way to say anything else on the subject that would not be an unnecessary lie. Did you get your writing done? he asked, hoping to put an end to her inquiries about his day. 

yes, your place has done wonders for my productivity, Ellana replied. i might need to come over more often.

Take all the time you need this week, Solas wrote.

& thanks again for the rolls, they were delicious, Ellana sent at the same time, and then there was a slightly longer pause. 

thank you for the offer. your place is really lovely.

Another, even longer pause.

although it's even nicer when you're around.

He stared at the message a while, his heart beating wildly. He had consciously put thoughts of their kiss aside, under lock and key, for the duration of the trip, but now he was suddenly reminded of the way Ellana had leaned into him.  Of the fact that she had kissed him. 

She hadn’t acknowledged the kiss, since, but she hadn’t disclaimed it, either. Somehow he didn’t think she would opt to pretend it hadn’t happened, if she regretted it. He imagined that she would have said something instead to indicate its irrelevance, or how it had been a mistake. 

He realized he had left her message—a compliment—unanswered, but struggled to come up with an appropriate response. Finally, he typed, I really enjoyed our evening .

It was a horrible message, and he regretted it as soon as he had sent it, but there it was, already reaching her, irretrievable. Irreversible. He rubbed his face with his left hand, right still holding his phone.

good. so did I. we need to do it again sometime.

Definitely, he wrote before he could overthink it. Preferably soon. 

so do you know when you’re going to be back?

Hopefully no later than Friday. 

would you like me to do any grocery shopping for your arrival? 

You are already doing more than enough, Solas wrote, but the offer felt strangely touching. It had been a while since anyone was concerned enough—or thoughtful enough—to care that way about him. Actually, the last person to have done so would have been Felassan.

He wasn't sure if that realization was significant with regards to how few people he allowed close, or how many steps he seemed to have skipped with Ellana.

And he knew he shouldn't. Shouldn't be doing any of this, sending her messages, kissing her, definitely not letting her get close. But today—today he had enough on his plate, was too tired by far to ruminate on the shouldn'ts, and the whys. Today he was going to indulge himself by exchanging some more messages with Ellana, and his considerations would have to wait for a better day.

***

Ellana was not sure what had gotten into her. She had promised herself she’d let Solas communicate his intentions—give her a sign, a proper sign!—before she took any more steps herself, and yet here she was, inviting herself over, flirting, offering even more help. And they’d known each other for what, two, three weeks now?  

She looked down at Mishap, currently busy glaring at the bowl of food that she refused to eat while being perceived . “Do you think your elf could perhaps declare himself more decisively?” she asked.

Mishap blinked slowly. 

“Will you eat if I turn around?” asked Ellana, then proceeded to test that theory. She heard the telltale sounds of slurping after less than two minutes. 

The next morning her previous decision to continue being involved with Solas and his cat (oh, it had better be his cat) was sorely tested. Mishap needed to be taken to the vet for her preliminary blood panel and pre-spaying assessment, and she was none too happy about being put in the carrier. 

Ellana had dealt with some cats that were bad about going to the vet. Her own three were mostly unproblematic at entering any box, carrier included, even if each of them could go into hysterics during the actual tests, in their own ways. Mishap presented a level of difficulty Ellana had not anticipated. 

As soon as Ellana touched the carrier to attach its doors to the hinges, Mishap threw herself under the sofa. Ellana at least made the correct decision, at that point, to start by closing the door to the room they were both in, in order to minimize the number of escape routes. Then she tried lifting Mishap up and gently pushing her into the carrier.

Gentle was not an option. Mishap turned into an eel, her adorable little fangs clamping on Ellana’s hand, her thankfully shortened claws trying to gain purchase on Ellana’s forearm. She climbed over Ellana’s arm and her back, and jumped to the floor, where she crouched low on her legs and then practically slithered into the tight space under a coffee table.

Ellana swore.

She grabbed a blanket off the sofa, pushed the table aside,  quickly wrapped the fabric around Mishap, and finally pushed her into the carrier, head first. Mishap tumbled in and around, unhappily, as Ellana fastened the carrier locks. Even in spite of Mishap’s pedicure, there was a new cut on her forearm. The previous one had barely managed to heal.

“Alright, Missy. Time for your checkup,” she announced with a flair she wasn’t really feeling.

At the vet’s office everyone was nice and professional. Ellana warned the doctor, a young elven woman, about Mishap’s bad mood, and the blood draw took place with only moderate interruptions. 

“She looks just fine,” the doctor pronounced after a few minutes, having done a quick exam. “We will have the test results in the afternoon, and you’re scheduled for the surgery for—”

“—next Monday, at nine.” Ellana said.

“Right! Great. I’ll prescribe you an anti-inflammatory tablet to give her the day before, and if the results are fine, we’ll meet Monday morning.”

we’re leaving the vet. Mishap is ok. didn’t want to come though , Ellana wrote to Solas on her way out. they’ll send me the results by email in the afternoon, will forward to you asap.

Solas didn’t respond, and she assumed he was back to his mysterious work emergency. 

At the apartment, Mishap skitted back into a dark corner immediately after regaining her freedom. Ellana scooped some cat food into her bowl, and put the bowl next to the said dark corner, only for it to be ignored. 

She got the results while on her way back home, much later that day. They were fine, and she forwarded them quickly to Solas’s email, then sent a text explaining the highlights. Solas only replied much later.

Thank you so much. I hope she was not too much trouble.

Ellana considered a whole array of replies. I’ve probably had worse but not gonna lie, she won round one, and fouled me in round two, she wrote finally. I will accept words of praise and appreciation.

You are incredibly appreciated, Solas wrote. How can I convey my gratitude? More baked goods?

More kissing, Ellana thought, and didn’t type. 

a dinner could be nice, she wrote instead, and hurried to add, doesn’t have to be very fancy!

That could be arranged. I will bear in mind that only medium levels of fancy are to be accepted.

amazing! :) , she wrote. so how was your thing today? still tedious?

You have no idea, Solas replied. But this time I did make it to a restaurant. 

congrats. any updates on the return ETA?

Actually, yes. I was meaning to text you. I’m afraid I’ll have to return on a night flight. Are you alright to stop by in the evening on Friday?

She understood what he meant—Mishap’s evening meal, her water bowl—but Ellana’s treacherous heart, supported by her equally unreliable brain, instantly produced the image of waiting for Solas to come home. It wasn’t even a sexual fantasy, though, of course, the potential was there. It was worse than that, a fantasy of domestic comfort. Of how she might wake up from shallow sleep to see him come back, tired and bedraggled, and happy to see her.

It gave her a pang in the area of her sternum. She was being an idiot, and would schedule a session of stern self-criticism for later.

it should be fine. hope your work goes better tomorrow!

I hope Mishap doesn’t give you any more trouble, he wrote.

should be smooth sailing from now on. there’s a tablet for her to take the evening before the surgery, but that’s gonna be on you.

Solas took a longer while to respond next, almost long enough that Ellana began to wonder if he’d gone to sleep. 

Is it strange that I can’t wait to come back to Mishap?

I am not the one to judge. I’m already attached to Mishap too and she doesn’t live with me or like me half as much as she does you ;)

She switched to her groupchat and wrote, last chance to take my bet that Solas will adopt the cat btw.

no fair if ur using sex to win that bet, wrote Sera instantly.

i wish i was, wrote back Ellana. i’m just that great at matchmaking felines that need homes with persons that need cats.

Unearned claim to greatness, this one was entirely happenstance, replied Cassandra. But I am happy for you. The cat needs a home, and I’m sure this Solas will be the happier for having a companion.

she said she wishes she was having sex with him and you focus on the cats, wrote Dorian. Ellana, why aren’t you having sex with him. 

right now? he’s geographically unavailable, typed Ellana.

that’s what Maker created sexting for, Dorian responded.

The Maker certainly did not create sexting, Cassandra wrote immediately.

but u bet Andraste would have appreciated it if he had! replied Sera.

Ellana imagined the face Cassandra was making right now and snorted loudly enough to make Hunter raise his head, and regard her curiously.

it might be too early for that, Ellana wrote on the chat, thinking of the whole “not even three weeks” thing.

you’re making me sad, Dorian replied. it’s always sex o’clock.

And yet you somehow manage to make time to chat with us, wrote Cassandra. 

someone needs to try to save you from yourselves, Dorian wrote. except for Sera. she’s doing well enough without my help.

Leliana threw in a side-eye emoji. 

I am OBVIOUSLY not referring to you, queen, Dorian sent hastily.

So just Ellana and myself, Cassandra summarized. Good to know.

Ellana conducted a brief internal debate over whether to update them about her prospective dinner with Solas, but decided against it. There was no need to invite more commentary.

Not while her mood was really rather splendid.

Chapter Text

It was a relief to be back in Markham. Even though the outcome of the deposition remained uncertain, and Sileal’s freedom was at risk, there was nothing else he could do at present, and in a way, he was glad it was out of his hands. 

Solas felt guilty enough as it was without having more responsibility.

He had avoided seeing any of them. He hadn’t really expected to, other than the lawyers, but even intermediaries—their assistants, representatives, proxies—would have been enough to put him in a constant state of anxiety and anger. The reason Solas returned this late was because of taking the long, roundabout way back, hoping to avoid making it too easy for them to determine his whereabouts.

Probably a wasted effort—if they really meant to find him, they would. But he had contingencies for that very purpose.

He opened the door to his apartment and almost tripped over Mishap, twining her body around his ankles, purring loudly, climbing up his leg while he dropped his keys into the bowl next to the door and then tried to take off his heavy winter coat.

Solas experienced sudden and intense deja vu. Ridiculous, since he had never returned home from travels to be greeted by a cat—by his cat—but as he leaned down to rub Mishap’s forehead and scratch her ears, it felt as though he had done it countless times. His brain supplied a continuation of the scene in the form of a bleary-eyed Ellana, wrapped in a blanket, yawning, and telling him that Mishap had missed him.

He needed a reality check and maybe to sleep for sixteen hours. 

Instead, he quickly ascertained that Mishap’s litterboxes were both spotless, changed her water just in case, and then, guiltily, opened the drawer with cat food pouches whose existence he had accidentally failed to disclose to Ellana. They were a luxury, and slightly worse for the cat and for the environment than the cans, but horribly convenient, and seemingly considered quite the delicacy by Mishap, who started purring loudly again as soon as she saw him reach into the drawer.

He texted Ellana a quick I got home safe, Mishap looks hale and happy, thank you for taking such excellent care of her! and then almost fell asleep under the shower, and then over the sink, electric toothbrush serving as his only anchor in the waking world, before dragging himself to bed and promptly losing consciousness. He only woke up briefly some half an hour later to feel Mishap curl up next to his head, her little paw stretched to touch his shoulder.

He drifted off again, thinking, I’m keeping her.

***

Solas’s message was the second thing Ellana saw in the morning, right after she managed to get the starving Keeper off her chest. 

She fed the cats and made herself coffee while composing a text in her head. 

it was my pleasure, she wrote finally. would you like me to drop by with your keys sometime soon?

She hoped that was sufficiently neutral. Personally, she didn’t much care if her friends held onto her spare keys, but Solas might have different opinions on the subject. Plus, much as she would like to see it otherwise, they weren’t that close. Yet.

Then there was the other thing. Ellana needed to speak to him about Mishap. The supposed previous owner had not materialized, and the cat was not growing any younger. It made sense not to move her until she’d been spayed, and healed after, but afterwards, every passing week would make finding a home slightly more difficult. Much as she’d like to put her head in the sand, there were two options—either the cat was staying with Solas, or they needed to become more proactive about finding her a permanent home. 

She’d already received a couple of messages asking about her availability in response to the ads about looking for her previous home. Such a cute kitten, is she okay with dogs? one asked. Can she be socialized with a rabbit? asked another. 

Solas only responded closer to noon, leading Ellana to believe that he’d been sleeping off his trip. There is no hurry about the keys, he wrote. But if it is a subtle reminder, how do you feel about dinner tomorrow evening?

it wasn’t a reminder, I assume you remember :) she replied, and paused. Should she agree? Should she demur? She went for a semi-joke with, is that dinner as in, giving Mishap her anti-inflammatory tablet in your company?

I was thinking some food for the two of us, rather than just the feline, Solas wrote. Medium fancy, as requested. White wine?

He was asking about the wine, which meant not going out.

always. are you cooking?

A brief pause.

I make no promises, he wrote finally.

Do you have any dietary restrictions? Allergies? Or plain dislikes?

I'm pretty versatile, she typed, hit sent, and then faceplanted into her phone. Suave, Ellana. 

and enthusiastic about gluten!

but if i can be picky, then i generally can do without shellfish. most regular fish are ok though. & meat too. 

Noted. Again, no promises. Inspiration may strike but we may also end up with takeout.

Ellana sat for a moment there, phone in her hand. On the one hand, the promptness of the invitation seemed like a good sign; on the other, she’d semi-expected that even a medium fancy dinner would be at a restaurant (shallowly, she wanted to see Solas in more formal attire). Then again, there was Mishap. Then again-again, it would be easier to proceed from food to more exciting activities if they were at his place. 

She wasn’t usually one to overthink her outfits, but this time she was a little at a loss. The last time, she’d worn one of her date dresses, and they had ended up kissing. Should she count on linear progression, and wear another dress? Or try a different tack and put on something more casual? Dorian’s teasing aside, she was hoping for further developments. 

Ellana was still standing in front of her closet, looking through her dresses and blouses, when she finally attracted the attention of Keeper, who jumped into the closet, sniffed the air, rubbed her side against a jacket, and gave Ellana the judgmental look of a cat who’d almost definitely had some successful dealings with male cats before she became a lady of leisure in Ellana’s care. 

“Yeah, I know, would be much easier if I were a cat,” Ellana said, and petted Keeper’s head. 

Keeper held her gaze. Ellana petted her some more. Keeper blinked slowly.

Somewhere behind her back, there was the tell-tale scuttling of feline legs, and Hunter, who hated not being where the petting was, ran full speed into the room to join them. He twined between Ellana’s legs, headbutting her, and demanding attention. Only Da’len opted not to join his siblings, instead observing them all from up high, perched on a cat bed. 

“Silly lackeys,” Ellana said, pretending to be Da’len. “This is all mine anyway. I’m the alpha cat and you should all bow to me.” She shook her head. Talking in pretend cat voices was a habit from the time of the Blight lockdown, and while she still thought it was vaguely amusing, her friends were always quick to remind her that the emphasis was on vaguely . And also, that she should get a life. 

“Working on that right now,” she muttered.

The next day, she showed up at Solas’s place, having chosen a compromise: a pretty dress, but not a dress that immediately screamed do me . It was more of a polite suggestion, perhaps with a question mark. 

But just in case the suggestion was clear enough, and favorably considered, she had taken precautions. She had shaved her legs. She had changed the litterbox before taking off, and given her cats their evening food portions, in case she was going to return home late. Or very, very late. 

She was beginning to think that perhaps she hadn’t gotten laid in too long. But then, it would take a much stronger woman than her to be immune to the sex appeal of a man who held a cat in his arms the way Solas had.

He was holding the cat when she arrived at his apartment, too, having apparently decided that it was the perfect solution to letting someone in without giving Mishap a chance to run out the door and go sightseeing. He was wearing a button-down dark shirt, now pretty much covered in cat hair, and he smiled when he saw her. Ellana felt herself smile in response. 

He was still as tall as she remembered. She was a goner. 

“I cooked,” Solas said. “But if you don’t like it, there are takeout options a phone call away.”

Alright, now she really was a goner. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” she said, and hoped whatever it was was not covered in coriander. She stepped out of her shoes, dropped her backpack on the floor and placed her coat on a hanger. 

“How are you after your trip? How’s Mishap now that you’re back?”

“She was happy to see me, I think,” said Solas. “Though not as happy as I was to see her.”

“Oh,” said Ellana. “About that—”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to say—” started Solas at the same time. They both paused, looked at each other, and laughed. “Let me go first,” said Solas.

“Sure,” Ellana agreed, hoping fervently that he was about to say what she wanted him to say.

“I assume that, since no one has come forward for her so far, the chances of her being lost are slim?” He was still holding Mishap in his arms. She seemed perfectly content to remain there.

Ellana’s pulse was racing, which was honestly, ridiculous. “Yeah, someone could still turn up, but after three weeks, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Solas nodded. “I’ve realized that I’m dreading someone else taking her,” he said. “I know that there are difficulties I need to consider, but I’ve been thinking about her as my cat for a while now. So, um, I really hope you haven’t promised her to someone else in the last couple of days.”

Ellana stared at him for a moment that went on entirely too long, relief and joy flooding her. “Can I kiss you?” she heard herself say.

Solas blushed, slightly, but noticeably. Ellana took that as a yes, and so she went on her tiptoe and carefully angled herself so she could press a kiss to his mouth without squishing the cat.

“Thank you,” she said. 

Mishap made a slight noise of complaint. Evidently, Solas was not supposed to be distracted from admiring her . Ellana scratched her behind the ears.

“You got your elf, Missy,” she said. Mishap purred for a moment; then it seemed like she clocked on to the fact that she was reacting to the wrong person, and she shuddered, and jumped out of Solas’s arms, straight to the floor, then started cleaning her ears with malicious intent.

Solas laughed, perhaps slightly uneasily. “Uh, may I invite you to the table?” He was still blushing. Ellana swallowed and realized that there was no way she would be able to eat right now. She was buzzing with nervous energy, and a little euphoric, and seriously horny.

Which was why Ellana did the only reasonable thing she could: she stepped closer to him to whisper directly into his ear. “Take me to bed,” she said. 

“What—”

She stopped his question, answered his question, with another kiss, a more forceful one, pushing her entire body against his, his hands holding her close. “We should fuck,” she said, “and for the record, it’s not because you’re adopting Mishap, it’s because I really want to fuck you.” Admittedly, him being the kind of person who would adopt Mishap may have had something to do with the latter. 

“Ellana—” Solas tried again, but not very effectively, apparently running out of things to say after her name. She restrained herself from rubbing herself against him the way she wanted to, giving him the semblance of a chance to slow down. She hoped he wasn’t going to slow down. She might die of lust and embarrassment if he put the brakes on now. 

“Are you sure?” he finally asked, as if it wasn’t her broaching the subject. 

She raked her fingernails up his nape and took a deep breath. “Aren’t you?” she replied. 

Solas made a noise that sounded a little like a stifled laugh. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night we found Mishap,” he said. 

“I was definitely thinking more than kissing,” Ellana managed to say, despite her throat feeling suddenly dry and tight.

“That, too,” replied Solas.  

Her heart was beating wildly now, and Ellana wanted, needed, to lie back and feel his weight pinning her down. It was overwhelming. She wanted to be overwhelmed. She swallowed. “Didn’t you have a bedroom here somewhere,” she said. 

She must have finally persuaded him, of her sincerity or maybe of the rightness of this course of action. They stumbled across the hall, through the doorway and into his bedroom, the one room she’d barely glanced at the whole time she’d been catsitting. Ellana was not getting  a much better sense of it now, because all she could see was Solas, the curve of his mouth, his eyelashes as they kissed again. All she could feel was him. His tongue inside her mouth, his body, warm and solid against hers, his fingers, roaming her back, his legs bumping into her legs, bumping against the bed. “Unzip me,” she asked him when they came up for air, his shirt already untucked, her hair mussed, falling down from the ruined twisted updo.

She turned around, presenting the back of her dress to him. Solas had to get her locks out of the way first, drawing them away from her nape. She felt his mouth ghost over the skin there, the knobs of her spine. She shivered, bit her lip to keep from moaning. His own breath felt as shallow as hers. His fingers found the zipper and he tugged it down; colder air hit her skin almost painfully. He put one hand on her hip, sliding it tentatively under the fabric of the dress, and he kissed her nape again. Ellana gasped, and then gasped again when he pressed his body against her back. He was so tall that he had to lean down to reach her. 

She turned back around, stepped out of her dress, leaving it in a heap on the floor, and made for the buttons of Solas’s shirt, her fingers oddly shy as she helped him out of it. She ran her hand down his ribs, feeling and hearing the sharp intake of his breath. His skin was hot to touch. She moved closer, rubbing the apex of her thighs against his leg. She felt the shape of his cock through his trousers, hardness pressing against her stomach. Her cunt clenched in response.  

Solas froze, as if wondering what to do next and waiting for her to confirm the direction. For people as eloquent as the two of them, they clearly needed to do better on verbal communication. Perhaps they’d improve the next time. 

The next time.

She needed her brain to turn off before it came up with even more embarrassing thoughts. Fortunately, she knew some excellent tricks for that. She moved her hand to palm his erection, stroking him gently but with unmistakable insistence, feeling herself grow wetter with every moment. She was fairly sure she couldn’t come from rubbing herself against him like this, in her underwear, and standing up, and getting barely any friction where she wanted it most but they needed to stop trying to find out and locate a more comfortable position instead. She took a step back, drawing him towards herself and towards his bed. 

***  

Before Ellana’s arrival, Solas had carefully avoided any thoughts that could approach the label of expectations. But if he had given it thought (as he hadn’t), he would certainly not have come up with this scenario, in which they were, well, humping each other, before dinner, and he was embarrassingly close to coming before actually getting naked.

It had been a while for him, but he was not sure if that mattered as much as the fact of Ellana’s presence and her effect on him. He wanted, above all else, to make her come. To learn what she liked, what she sounded like, how she tasted. 

Ellana didn’t, couldn’t know the way she looked, standing in front of his bed, dressed in a pair of grey tights and a black bra, dark brown hair escaping its confinement to frame her face. Her mouth seemed darker, well-kissed. He reached out and touched her cheek, and she blinked in response. He touched her sternum and then slowly slid his fingers to the curve of her breast, over the lace, feeling the shape of her nipple. She gasped softly. He ran his thumb in a circle, eliciting another, slightly louder gasp, one he felt like a caress against his skin, and another one that shot straight to his cock. 

He circled her waist with his other hand, right above the curve of her buttock, his lips on her neck again, all the better to feel her heartbeat, to know when it sped up. 

She drew him to her, and then they were backing towards the bed until she was sitting down, her eyes hooded and dark, her mouth, her beautiful mouth, curved in a soft smile. Solas leaned and kissed her, went on kissing her. She was being gentler than he felt, meeting him with lips and tongue, no teeth, but her urgency, neediness, seemed hardly in doubt.

It was heady to be wanted like this. He had missed being wanted like this. 

Solas climbed the bed, bracketing Ellana’s hips with his knees. Ellana ran her fingers over his chest, and it was suddenly too much, too little, not enough. He took her hand in his, kissed her wrist, the pulse point, the slight saltiness of her skin, then kissed his way up, to her elbow, the softness of her underarm, the point of her shoulder, followed the clavicle to the hollow of her neck, and then kissed the swell of her breast. She bent towards him, and when he lowered the cup of her bra to finally lick her breast, she made a hungry noise he committed to memory, or at least hoped he did. Her left hand flew to his hardness, stroked him through his trousers, and he had to stop himself from biting.

He was not going to last much longer if she kept touching him. He drew away from her, the parting almost painful, but she read his mind. She sat up slightly, unhooked her own bra behind her back and let him draw it off. Her nipples were taut and dark, a sight he knew he would remember over and over again, but right now he needed to see if their color reflected how she looked between her legs.  

“Stop stalling, I need to see you, too,” Ellana scolded him, but her lazy smile, the way she drew her hands up to display herself, belied her words. 

Solas had to move away from her to follow her demands. He took a deep breath and made quick work of the rest of his clothing, a course that was never dignified and certainly less so when he was focused on looking at her and feeling her eyes on him. He didn’t give his body much thought, typically. He felt neither particularly glad nor unhappy with his looks—the body was a means to his ends only, and forgotten when its needs were fulfilled—but the evident pleasure she took in seeing him, the way her eyes grew larger and brighter as he shed the last items, made him, for once, find pleasure in his physicality for its own sake. With her body, his body mattered.

Not as much as hers did, though. Ellana lifted her hips, and, impatient, he pulled her tights down together with her underwear, revealing a triangle of dark blond hair. She parted her legs in invitation, looking up at him expectantly.

That was about the point where decision making processes short-circuited for him, and so he went to her, straight between her thighs, nuzzling her knee and then higher, lifting one of her legs for better access. Ellana’s gasps quickly turned into moans. When he finally reached the cleft of her labia, his lips only slightly open in a mockery of a chaste kiss, she gave a hissing sound and for a split second he was about to back away, afraid that he’d overstepped, acted too fast, but Ellana pushed herself against him, held him closer with her heel digging into his shoulder. Not an unwelcoming hiss then.

“Fuck,” she said, her back arching up, one of his hands sneaking under her to cup the perfect curve of her buttock. Her voice was coming in gasps. He felt horribly pleased with himself. “Please, don’t stop. Fuck, Solas.”

He didn’t stop. He slowed down though, licking her slowly and carefully, learning the intimate shape of her, her musky smell, and her taste. He chased after her sounds, guided by the pressure of her heel and then the fingers grabbing at his nape. He found his way around her pleasure quickly, recognizing when to add more pressure, when to flick his tongue, and then sliding his thumb between her folds but barely inside her, just teasing at the sensitive opening, spreading the gathered wetness out.

It was almost too much for him, and he found that he had to angle his body carefully to avoid brushing his cock against the bed and coming like this, even before her.

He was both glad and disappointed when it was soon enough for her, and she grew frantic under his mouth, pushing against him, holding onto him, grinding with more abandon than he would have expected but that he more than welcomed. He became greedier, too, licking and sucking until she finally shook and crested, her final sounds muffled by her own hand.

He licked her softly through the aftershocks, and then she drew him up to her, demanding, claiming his mouth. 

***

Ellana reached to pull Solas up to her, and she kissed him like she’d been drowning and was finally coming up for air. She was still throbbing with the last of her pleasure, and she needed to feel Solas’s weight and warmth on top of her. Right now. She threw a leg over his waist and gathered him closer. He groaned at the touch, breaking the kiss. 

“I want—” she said, haltingly. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel all of him. She wanted him to fuck her, and hold her down to the bed, and fuck her some more. She kissed his mouth again, chasing her own taste on his tongue, and reached down to touch him. Solas caught her wrist and pulled her hand up, pinning it loosely beside her head. The decisiveness sent an echo of pleasure through her.  She rolled her hips in response, in encouragement.

He gazed at her for what felt like a long moment, looking as if he was trying and failing to ask something. “Yes,” Ellana said instead, pressing her hips up against him again, bringing them as close as she could. “ Fuck me.” 

He was quick about locating and putting on a condom, but it still took entirely too long for her liking. When he finally drove into her, Ellana couldn’t help but moan. He stopped for a moment, sheathed inside her, breathing deeply. She wasn’t sure if he needed that pause, or if he was considerately making sure she had the time to adjust. 

She wasn’t that patient. She clenched around him.

“Is that—?” he asked, and gasped when she ground against him. 

“Good. More,” she said. 

Solas didn’t wait any longer. He kept close, held in her arms as he fucked her, driven by her gasps and moans. The pleasure didn’t quite build for her again, it had been too intense moments ago, but she still felt waves of sensations coursing through her in time with his strokes. His breath was hot against her ear. He brushed against her chest, her nipples still sensitive, almost too much and yet she craved more of it. She rocked against him, changing the angle a little and he adjusted his rhythm, his position, so that he was stroking against the spot inside her that made her moan louder, that sent sparks through her body. It felt like a flare to kindling.

She said something then, groaned something, but she couldn’t hear herself, disarticulated by the pleasure once more growing with every movement of his body, every roll of her hips. She couldn’t quite reach between them to stroke her own clit, and so she hovered on the precipice when his movements finally grew more stuttering, arrhythmic, and she felt him come inside her, as he gasped into the side of her neck.

She sneaked her hand between her legs the moment he pulled away a little,  and joined him in just a few quick pushes of her fingers, working her almost painful clit. She put her head against Solas’s shoulder, trying to catch her breath, and he held her as his own breathing and heartbeat steadied.

When they finally drew apart, eased apart from one another, Ellana was still feeling tender and languid. Soft. Limbs turned to jelly. It was difficult to switch on the thinking again. She sat up, tentatively, and looked to Solas, who seemed to be lost in a similar haze. After a moment, he leaned towards Ellana, and kissed her, gently, lips barely parting to meet hers.

Once more, it seemed that he was gearing to say something, but never managing to utter the words. Ellana gave him a curious look.

“I think—the dinner will have gotten cold,” he said finally. 

Ellana laughed. “I’m sure that once reheated, it will still be delicious,” she said, and paused. “Unless Mishap has eaten it.”

She almost felt bad for the delay when, at long last, they entered the living room and she saw the table he’d prepared. He’d set it up so carefully, and the food looked delicious. Well, the salad was a little wilted, and the pasta, some kind of penne with meatballs, had gone cold, but it still smelled delicious, garlicky and rich and—there were flowers. Cat-safe variety, at first glance. A pitcher of water, a bottle of wine. It was a good thing she had already seduced him and didn’t need to do so now, with the additional pressure.

“Would it be gross if I suggested eating the dinner as it is?” asked Ellana. She was, honestly, rather famished. “I don’t mind leftovers.”

“I’m not sure this qualifies as leftovers,” Solas protested primly. “But if you don’t mind, that’s fine by me.”

That concession of his only lasted about three forkfuls, at which point Solas ended up insisting on reheating his portion, and since he was already reheating the pasta, why not Ellana’s portion, too. She kept him company in the kitchen, snacking on the salad and pieces of bread, and drinking a glass of wine, watching his arms as he operated the stove. Mishap observed the both of them from on top of the fridge. Ellana said something fairly inane about cat safety in the kitchen, and failed to cringe, being way too preoccupied with Solas.

Solas was really tall. Not in an imposing way: when she wasn’t thinking about it, it was easy to forget how tall he was. She decided it was the economy of his movement that allowed for that illusion. He was focused on his actions, and expressive but in subtle ways. He didn’t take up space, blending into the background unless you knew to look for him.

She was staring at him. She needed to act normal. She was quite sure she used to know how to do that, before they’d fucked each other’s brains out. Which was a subject that clearly required some conversation. Which she did not feel up to, just yet. Not on an empty stomach, not while still buzzed on how good the sex had been. She needed clarity. Distance. She needed to think about things.

It was a really, really good thing that she could talk long-term cat apartment safety even when mostly out of it, on cruise control, autopilot engaged. 

She was wondering how much of it Solas was even getting, because she was certainly hoping she was not the only one with problems focusing right now.

***

Solas was not learning much about catproofing his apartment. It was a really, really good thing he’d spent a non-insignificant amount of time studying the subject on various websites already. He knew about the reasons not to use automatic litterboxes, and the risks of leaving windows ajar, and how to prepare a balcony for cat use, and about the importance of making sure shelves were properly secured. He was quite excited to embark on this new journey, because he wanted Mishap to love his apartment—her home— and to be safe there.

But right now, all he could focus on was the fact that they had just had sex, and Ellana looked radiant, and happy, and somehow, even more beautiful than before, basking in the afterglow. He kept flashing back to snapshots of her, in the tights, in his bed, her hair fanning out, her mouth open. 

He almost burnt the pasta.

He reconsidered his portion. He could barely taste anything as it was, eating mechanically and staring at Ellana like his brain had completely given out. 

At one point he realized that she’d stopped speaking, and was looking at him expectantly. He caught himself completely unable to recall what she’d just said. 

“I’m sorry—” he said, and Ellana smiled.

“I was just asking if the medium fanciness includes a dessert,” she explained, eyes sparkling.

“Oh. Right,” Solas said. This would be a clue to return to safer and more solid ground. Alas, his brain wasn’t there yet. “You might say I’ve already had dessert, actually, but—”

Ellana burst out laughing, and he blushed, but then laughed with her.

“I might, huh,” she said.

“I do have baked goods,” he said. He’d taken note of her sweet tooth. Admittedly, it didn’t have anything on his own. 

Solas got up, and moved to collect their plates. Ellana watched him wordlessly for a moment; as soon as he left the room, he heard her get up, pushing back the chair. 

He put the plates in the sink and was just opening the cupboard, when he realized Ellana was in the kitchen with him. He turned around to face her, and saw her looking at him with a determined expression. 

“Yes?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“So, this is a little awkward,” she said.

His heart sank. Had it—had it not been good for her? Had he overstepped somehow, said something that offended her somehow? She’d seemed fine during—well, in the moment. And during dinner. 

“Yes?” he repeated, having apparently run out of better conversational gambits.

She made a face. “Have you actually given Mishap the meds? I meant to ask you before. And then we got distracted.”

That was not at all what he’d expected. That surprise must have shown on his face because she gave him a searching look. “Right before you arrived,” he replied. “Naturally.”

“Naturally,” she said. “Well, that’s good then. What did you think I was going to ask?”

That was a bad question. He had a number of horrible ways to answer that. “Ask. Say. Inform me that you are moving to Par Vollen. Honestly, I had no idea.”

She didn’t seem to quite take that at face value, but she shook her head. “Is the real estate market in Par Vollen very cheap? Because then I should look into it. But no. On the other hand—I did want to thank you for the lovely evening.”

She hadn’t said date, but that didn’t matter, probably. He nodded. “It has been—wonderful.”

She smiled. “And I don’t just mean the food.”

“Noted.”

They had dessert, small lemon curd and meringue tartlets, and kissed a little more, searchingly, cautiously, a little shyly, especially for two elves who’d already gone to bed together, but perhaps for that very reason, too. And then it was really quite late, and Ellana took herself home, claiming the cats slept better when she was around. He offered to walk her back, but she dismissed the need. Promised to text him when she got home safe.

arrived back! see you in the morning.

He sent Ellana a picture of Mishap curled up on the sofa, and resisted the urge to check for her responses. He finally went to sleep, but lay dreamless for a long time, thinking only of her.

Chapter Text

Ellana does not live her dating misfire down, just as she’s predicted. The group chat makes fun of her for two days straight. The group chat is mainly Dorian, who just won’t shut up. Cassandra seems more sympathetic, and Sera remains torn between the comedic potential of Ellana getting such an accurate read within half an hour of meeting a new chick, and the tragic fact that this is yet another failed attempt at getting Ellana to commit to the sapphic lifestyle. Leliana shrugs and moves on.

On the other hand, Merrill and her are messaging each other all the time. She gets a number of kestrel pictures, including some kestrel memes. She responds with more pictures of her cats. Merrill becomes an instant fan of Keeper and all her imperial expressions.

It turns out that Merrill’s around campus on Wednesdays, too, and they meet up for coffee again. Merrill tells her about a class she’s started teaching, which is apparently full of well meaning but exceptionally inept elves and humans, with one long-suffering dwarf thrown in. Ellana complains about her final project, which is not coming along as fast as she’d like it too. She’s trying to get the ethics committee to okay her interview plan with an anarchist collective, but some holdouts are throwing in follow-up questions like, ‘isn’t squatting a crime,’ and so on. You’d think she’s trying to research a blood-sacrifice obsessed cult and not just some harmless luddites who abhor technology and live in an abandoned building with their own generator.

It’s only after they’ve finished their coffees that Merrill asks her about Solas.

“So—that’s Mishap’s person?” she asks. “Do you know him very well?”

Ellana knows him intimately, and she knows next to nothing. Well, she knows his identity, but that’s not hers to share. 

The question is as frustrating as it is broad.

She summarizes the most salient points, namely, finding and taking in Mishap, the subsequent flirtation, her thinking they were beginning to get places, the breakup, and then reconnecting over Mishap’s medical woes. Merrill somehow inspires confidential conversations. Ellana barely keeps herself from mentioning what she has come to think about as the Slip Up.

Merrill offers all the right responses, and some very good questions. 

“It must have been incredibly awkward to start spending time together again,” she says.

Ellana wishes that was true. It both was and wasn’t. It was tentative and sensitive, like touching an unhealed bruise. It was the most natural thing in the world, like they’d never stopped speaking, like the eleven months of radio silence had been a week. She is angry at him and she misses him, and she should stop thinking about him. And it still is awkward and difficult, because, much as she hates to admit it, seeing him makes her remember what his eyelashes look like up close. 

She sighs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Merrill looks like she has something more to add, or another question hovering at the tip of her tongue, but instead, she changes the subject completely. “Do you want to be my plus one to a thing?” she asks.

Ellana briefly wonders if that’s a weird request to make of a new friend, but there is a certain type of honesty in Merrill that cuts through the bullshit.

“Depends on the thing,” she says.

“It might not be interesting for you,” Merrill replies. “It’s sort of a hike? Alongside the river. A few of my friends have seen beavers nearby, and there’s excellent birdwatching all along, and there may be some offline purists coming along, if you’re looking for inroads into that. But mostly there’ll be a few couples there, most likely including my ex, and having a friend with me will be really really helpful.”

“Beavers,” Ellana repeats. It sounds a bit abstract. A little out there, as far as weekend activities go, literally and figuratively. But the parts of kestrel-watching trip that were not her getting rejected were a lot of fun, and Merrill is terribly nice. Ellana thinks that at some point in the near future, she will need to reciprocate by taking Merrill along with her rescue group to trap some feral cats for neutering. 

“Also maybe deer. Or moose.” Merrill scrunches up her nose. “Although my friends keep promising me moose and there’s never any.”

“That’s very rude,” says Ellana.

Merrill nods emphatically. 

“I know, right? Well, if it’s horrible, we can always say goodbye early, take a shortcut back to town and have some fro-yo or whatever.”

“Please be mindful that I’m going to trust you to know all the shortcuts,” Ellana says, and Merrill laughs. 

“You have no idea how funny that is,” she says.

Merrill promises to message Ellana with all the necessary details, and then it’s time for them to go their separate directions. Ellana doesn’t even manage to get to her class when Merrill has already texted her.

ftr if you don’t want to go it’s ok! I won’t mind! 

I’m curious about the moose, Ellana writes back.

you and me both, Merrill writes. 

Ellana smiles, and switches off notifications. There is a tiny bit in her that wishes Merrill wasn’t right and that there was a romantic spark between the two of them. They could definitely make a good run of it. But no, she couldn’t get the fun thing with the nice person who immediately wanted to introduce her to their friends. No, Ellana must have fallen for the asshole with the dark, mysterious past and no friends in evidence.

The class starts. Ellana tries to focus on listening.

***

your cat has allergies. why doesn’t that surprise me, Felassan writes in response to Solas’s latest about Mishap.

I don’t have allergies, Solas counters. He doesn’t have allergies. He did the due diligence, had the relevant tests done and they came out inconclusive. Itchy eyes when flowers are in bloom or sneezing while visiting dust-covered spaces like libraries does not mean allergies.

What if you buy her an air purifier and it turns out you’ll both be happier for it? 

A quick cross-check tells Solas that, in fact, an air purifier may be helpful for pollen allergies in cats. Well. That gives him something to research. 

He has an email waiting in his private inbox, reminding him that he’s supposed to play online chess and/or some other game with Cole in the afternoon. Yet another habit from the Blight year that maybe makes his life a little less boring.

In one of his—as Felassan would put it—chivalrous moments of inclination towards doing something uncomplicated for the betterment of the world (as opposed to doing something complicated and ill-advised), Solas had once gone on a research rampage around his new city’s charitable institutions. He hoped to find something that would align with his worldview, a charity where he could donate some money on a regular basis, and have the sense of satisfaction that at least it wasn’t all wasted. Somehow, he followed a set of vague references and arrived at the webpage of a local youth activity center, which was apparently a proper and well-known organization, but the website made figuring out any way to provide help almost impossible. (It did make it clear how to receive help, which, Solas supposed, was the marginally more important goal.) 

So he did something slightly out of character (or not at all, according to Felassan) and sent an email to the address provided on the website. Do you know that your website is awful , the email said, in a slightly, but only more slightly polite way.

The person who replied was Cole. And somehow, over the course of several emails, he talked Solas into making them a whole new website. And then into playing online chess with him. 

It didn’t take him a long time to recognize that he already knew Cole, if under a different guise. Unfortunately, Cole was capable of similar insight, becoming one of only a few people who could connect Solas to Fen’Harel, and Fen’Harel to the Evanuris.

An avoidable risk he should never have taken. An undeniable relief.

Their game takes a couple of hours, without coming to a clear conclusion. Solas is winning, but not certainly yet. Cole is better at other games, but insists on returning to chess once in a while. 

you seem out of sorts today, Cole writes as their meeting draws to a close. Solas has thought it not obvious, but Cole can be preternaturally perceptive, solely through pauses, silences and tone. 

Maybe. He would gladly attribute his mood to the project—progress on his new plan has been halted, and some of his former employers are once again enjoying ill-deserved freedom, and ill-gotten gains—but it is not the true reason, and even if it were, they do not discuss such things on less secure channels. Only the encrypted board, or rarely, in person, and only in code.

is it because of her? 

Solas narrows his eyes. Is it? He wishes he could deny it, but, yes—ever since he met Ellana at the restaurant, he’s been on edge. Which is deeply ridiculous. There can be nothing between them—there is nothing between them. She can, she should move on with her life, find someone that will be better for her, or at least, less likely to cause undue complications wherever they go. 

There was something unnerving about the elven woman Ellana was with, the way she stared at him, but that is likely his paranoia, or perhaps jealousy, an ugly emotion from one who has no right to it.

Just a mild headache , he lies to Cole. Pointless, as Cole tends to see through even innocent untruths, but it should at least communicate his unwillingness to return to the subject.

Instead, Cole writes again on a more secure channel. 

are you sure?  can I help you in any way?

Thank you. But really, I’m fine.

Cole doesn’t press further, but instead sends him a copy of a report he’s been compiling on the new social media venture of some of Solas’s former colleagues. Cole can be untraceable when he wants to be, and has been instrumental in Solas staying on top of things for the last couple of years. Solas looks through it, finally able to tether all his bad mood on to something to be turned around and analyzed without the sense of inappropriateness that accompanies thinking about Ellana. 

He spends a couple of hours pouring over data and analyzing how it will impact his plan to destroy the Veil. The short answer is not much, the long answer is, he needs to know so much more, and to accomplish so much more, if he is ever to pull off the second stage of his plan. The assistance he gets from his collaborators—Lin'thanelan, Compassion, Felassan, stepping in to cover for the loss of Sileal —is invaluable, but the goal remains ever elusive.

And being distracted does not assist their plans in the slightly.

***

When Ellana checks her email on Thursday morning, she finds an unwelcome reminder that it’s time for Hunter’s yearly checkups. She usually tries to do Hunter’s in the spring, Keeper’s in early summer, and Da’len’s in the fall; this way, she manages to only get ruined financially a little bit at a time.

She gets some writing done before she calls the clinic to schedule a blood panel and dental checkup. Hunter skipped getting his teeth cleaned the previous year, so Ellana expects this time won’t be as lucky. The receptionist, Rook, is helpful as always, trying to fit her in. 

“Would next Wednesday be okay?”

“Could it be Thursday, actually?” Ellana asks. 

Rook takes a moment before confirming, “Would 1 pm work for you?”

Afternoon is not great, for reasons of fasting, but beggars can’t be choosers. She could postpone another week and try to get an earlier hour, but once she starts procrastinating, it’s suddenly five months later and she needs to get three cats checked out all at the same time. 

“Nothing earlier, I suppose?” she tries just in case. 

“I can call and let you know if a slot opens up,” offers Rook. “But nothing in the morning on Thursday or Friday. The week after, maybe?” Ellana really doesn’t know why Solas has such a negative attitude towards Rook. She’s perfectly helpful and polite.

“Thanks. We’ll do Thursday. Though I make no promises about Hunter’s mood after fasting that long.”

Rook chuckles warmly. “We can deal with that. Looking forward to your visit!”

Ellana writes the day down in her calendar, puts it on the wall calendar, and schedules a reminder on her phone, for good measure.

“How’s things?” asks Leliana after the evening’s yoga. Leliana believes in the importance of regular exercise for physical and mental health. Ellana believes in going to yoga being less strenuous than arguing with Leliana about why she won’t come to yoga, and questions about what activity she would prefer to yoga. 

“I’m actually planning another outing with my not-a-date-after-all, if you can believe it,” Ellana says, sipping her green juice.

“Hmm,” says Leliana. “What’s her name, again?” 

“Merrill, and you don’t need to background check her,” Ellana says and laughs.

“It’s not a background check just because I check someone’s background. I don’t even call former and current employers, or comb through court data. I just engage in a little cyberstalking to make sure my friends are not getting into unnecessary trouble.”

Sometimes Ellana thinks Leliana is wasted at her PR job, and she should be running some kind of an intelligence agency instead. Then again, having a friend who does PR is much better when you write copy. If Leliana ran a spy network, she’d probably recruit Ellana for much more unsavory things than extolling the virtues of local family-owned breweries. 

“I feel like you’re doing this more often for me than for any other of your friends, though,” Ellana points out. Leliana shrugs. 

“You don’t have a great track record.”

“Just because I made one mistake—”

“Wait, let me rephrase,” says Leliana. “You don’t have a great track record letting go of people when you should. Dorian would’ve been seven thousand miles away. Sera would’ve punched the person in the face, gotten spectacularly drunk, maybe dropped some dog feces on their doorstep, and moved on. And you are still catsitting for the guy.” She pronounces the words “the guy” as if she had something unpleasant in her mouth. 

“I said I was going to move on,” Ellana mutters. “I mean, am going to move on. Just as soon as I’m done with the time I’m already committed to, next month. I’ll give him the contact info for someone from the non-profit who wants some new clients for catsitting and tell him I’m too busy for the foreseeable because of my BA project.”

That’s a bullshit excuse that he’ll see right through, and know for what it is. A boundary. It will be good for her, and can only be good for him, to close the door on that failed chapter. Chapters.

“I’m going to give you positive reinforcement right now,” announces Leliana, which kind of takes the air out of the positive. “I’m very proud of you for making this plan, and I’ll support you in carrying it out.” Somehow, she manages to sound like she has very little faith in Ellana carrying out even ten percent of said plan. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’re too kind-hearted by far. If this Merrill has nefarious plans, she’ll find you an easy mark because you trust people. And I don’t.”

Ellana has a sudden stroke of inspiration. “Well, you know stalking is not the only way to learn things about someone. There’s the old-fashioned route of meeting people. If you want to find out if my new friend is a danger to me and society at large, you could have coffee with us. Or come to the nature walk.”

Leliana does not choke on her own smoothie only through sheer willpower, judging by the face she makes. “A nature walk. She’s taking you on another nature walk?”

“Didn’t you use to be quite the accomplished hiker?” needles Ellana.

“Don’t remind me,” says Leliana. 

“You could probably gather some delicious forage for your nugs,” Ellana teases. 

“Maker, you do know how to tempt a woman,” Leliana says, deadpan. “Let me think about it.”

In the end, she says no to this particular nature walk, maybe to a future nature walk with a slightly longer notice, and yes to meeting Merrill over coffee, which, Ellana thinks, is as good as she could have wished for. She is also tasked with checking out the forage and letting Leliana know if there are any clusters of embrium to be found (the nugs apparently like nomming on embrium leaves; who even knew). Ellana promises to update her on that.

“Also, if there is even a shred of suspicion that these people are a cult, you let me know right away,” Leliana says as she drops her off in front of her apartment building. Presumably, she is joking. Ellana wouldn’t accidentally get embroiled in a cult. 

“If I think they are a cult, I will run away screaming,” Ellana promises. “Mom.”

Leliana rolls her eyes fondly. “See you soon,” she says. "Try to get back from the wilderness in one piece."

Chapter Text

Ellana started reading her messages on the way back home. There were a bunch of them.

Ellana? Hello? Are you alive?

Cassandra, please calm down.

She hasn’t posted any messages in hours.

wasnt she supposed to meet up with the cat guy today

Dorian. Not helping.

what. i just meant shes hopefully getting her brains fucked out.

STILL NOT HELPING.

dearest Cassandra, i thought we were cheering her on.

maybe u were. plz dont refer to straight sex on main

I’m sure Ellana is fine. Better tell us about your presentation. How did it go?

Ellana quickly scrolled through the rest of the conversation, consisting of Cassandra talking about her work event, and Leliana asking all the appropriate questions and providing feedback while Sera and Dorian chimed in with inappropriate gifs and emojis. She was honestly tempted to leave them all hanging, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Cassandra was planning to mount a rescue operation anyway, and Leliana was only so calm because she’d had some spyware installed on Ellana’s phone.

So she wrote, alive, well, in one piece. Thank u for ur concern!!!

she returns! Dorian wrote immediately. 

Thank the Maker, replied Cassandra, and received two eyeroll emoji reactions almost instantly. Neither was from Ellana.

Ellana simply wrote, honestly. You’re behaving like I’ve been to battle.

Dorian went directly for,  BUT HAVE U???

Which, naturally, had Sera reply with, using war metphors for sex s boring & kinda gross.

They went on like that for a while, with Dorian asking whether Sera was dating someone with radical ideas and Sera asking whether Dorian had any ideas, radical and otherwise, before attention went back to her reticence.

ok El. give us a hint.

I think it’s mostly you who needs the confirmation, Dorian, wrote Leliana, all but proving Ellana’s suspicions regarding spyware. Or possibly clairvoyance. 

I had a lovely date with the cat guy and BTW he’s officially taking Mishap in!!! 

Well that is great news about the cat, wrote Cassandra. 

did u convince him to do it by banging him? asked Dorian at the exact same time.

no bribery was necessary. he just fell in love, Ellana sent, and then quickly amended, with the CAT.

Dorian and Sera reacted immediately with a set of gifs conveying the hilarity of her statement.

Ellana remembered about another point that needed debunking. She typed, also fyi any kind of sex I have is queer anyway.

She noticed that her private chat with Cassandra was pinging.

Is he? Are you? Cassandra asked.

That momentarily confused Ellana. am I what?

In love, Cassandra wrote. Because if you are, then it’s different and I’m sorry about being difficult. 

Ellana stared at her phone for a long moment. She wasn’t. Was she? She wasn’t. They weren’t. It was too early to think in those terms. 

I don’t know, she wrote, and then instantly regretted the honesty. Cassandra, the unwavering romantic, responded with a heart emoji. and also I'm entitled to casual sex with handsome casual acquaintances who like cats.

Ellana clicked back to the main chat. 

well, anyway, it’s an early day tomorrow, we’re taking Mishap to the vet, she wrote. 

oooh. WE, Dorian responded.

we’re making sure there is no reproductive potential, that’s clearly a two-elf job.

That had the desired effect of temporarily flummoxing everyone into silence.

The next morning, Ellana set back out for Solas’s so as to reach his place at about quarter past eight. They were supposed to drop Mishap off at nine at the vet’s, but Solas was already buzzing with nervous energy when she arrived. Mishap was sitting by the fridge, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Should we pack her up and go?” he asked. “There might be traffic.”

Ellana shook her head. The impatience was horribly endearing. “She’ll just get stressed out more, waiting longer. There’s still time. Even with traffic.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said in a voice that did not convey that much confidence. Even this amused Ellana instead of annoying her. She knew the feeling. Anaesthesia was safe, and spaying was routine, but there were always outliers. Being nervous was perfectly understandable.

“She’ll be fine,” she told Solas. “I bet you’ve read the statistics,” she teased.

“Guilty as charged,” he replied.  

They packed Missy into the carrier soon later, and the drive took all of ten minutes, even with all the red lights they could hit. Mishap whined the whole way there, plaintive meows alternated with angry squeaks and alarming moans. 

“She didn’t do this the previous time,” Ellana said. “I’d have told you. But she’s absolutely fine, just—being dramatic. I’m fairly sure.”

Well, if she was having some kind of a sudden onset feline malady, they were already on their way to the specialists. 

They were the first people through the door at the clinic. Mishap only ceased her yowling when they entered the exam room a few minutes later.

“She looks perfectly fine, and the bloodwork is all within reference range,” said the vet. “Alright, we’ll take her, and you should be able to collect her at about—2 pm?”

“Of course,” said Solas. “And if anything happens—”

“Nothing will happen. But we do have your number on file. In case we get delayed. Which is fairly unlikely this early in the day,” said the doctor. Solas looked a little apprehensive. Ellana caught his hand in a gesture of comfort, but in the end, she had to practically drag him out of the clinic. 

“She’ll be right as rain,” she said again when they made it back to the car. “Maybe a little bit offended that we’ve dragged her to the vet’s. But afterwards, you will never have to worry about her reproductive health ever again.”

Solas made a sort of acquiescing noise. Ellana gave him a moment.

“Would you be able to drop me off downtown? I have a few things to do, and then I should be able to come and get Mishap back with you,” she said.

Solas nodded. “That would be very helpful. To me. I cannot tell about Mishap.”

“She probably won’t care either way,” Ellana said.

***

Solas knew immediately he wasn’t going to do much work; it wasn’t even that he was consciously worrying about Mishap—all logic said that she should be fine—but her absence was palpable in ways he didn’t anticipate. In the end, he took to doing some post-travelling, and post-Ellana’s visit tidying up, as that served to occupy his hands, if not his mind.

There had been no news from Sileal, or from the lawyers. No news was not bad news—they’d likely hear about it if new charges were being brought, or new depositions scheduled of witnesses testifying to Sileal’s supposed corporate espionage—but it wasn’t good news, either. 

He tried reading a set of documents about a small software company, Korcari Ltd., chaired by a supposed distant relative of Mythal’s, Morrigan Korcari. The information he had gathered alarmed him. There seemed to be no direct financial ties between this company and Evanuris, but some of the products bore a striking similarity. Speech-to-text capability, sound processing. The code was more familiar than he was comfortable with. Not quite Mythal’s signature style, but close enough to make him wary. Clumsier, occasionally redundant, but not so clumsy as to exclude the possibility of Mythal having had a hand in this. He would need to remember to have this investigated further.

Ellana texted him at about noon, writing all done with my stuff, back at mine to feed the band of hunger beasts.

No news from the vet, he wrote back.

no news is good news! 

He disagreed, but before he managed to put that sentiment into words, Ellana texted again.

see you at 1.30?

Then there was really not much else to do but wait. It was also Mishap’s lunchtime, which reminded Solas that he probably needed to have something to eat, even if he wasn’t filling cat bowls at this point. He had yesterday’s leftovers, which changed the train of his thoughts, drawing them back towards Ellana.

Except this subject was not really such an improvement over the previous set of anxieties.

When she left the previous night, he ended up lying in his bed, sleepless, and still a little high on life. But then he woke up early as well, no longer dazed, and regretting giving in to temptation. He’d told himself flirting was harmless. He’d even justified to himself the prospect of sex—because it would be casual, insignificant. She would go on her way and forget about him, no harm done. 

He hadn’t expected them to go to bed last night, but if he were to be honest with himself, he had facilitated that turn of events. He had invited her over. He had cooked. He had wanted her to make a move, and when she had, he had taken several more.

But what if it meant more to her than it was supposed to? It already meant more to him, and that was a mistake, a complication, a misstep he could hardly afford. Too much was at stake. He was already inviting chaos and distraction into his life by adopting Mishap. He couldn’t start—a relationship as well.

Not that she wanted one, in all likelihood. But even the fact that he thought of it was a red flag.

And at the same time, he had been so horribly happy and relieved to see her in the morning. So stupidly glad when she texted him now. He should slam the brakes hard, before they crashed.

But he could give them another day. One more day could hardly make a difference. He would let her down gently later, if need be—though, in all likelihood, she’d be letting him down gently first. 

***

Ellana met Solas at the parking lot, next to his car. She was on time. He had probably been there early, but he did not remark on that. They picked the cat up on time, no delays, little traffic. Mishap stayed quiet on the way back, still groggy from the anaesthesia, her pupils blown wide, her facial expression full of disapproval, gradually approaching contempt. By the time Solas carried her into his apartment, she had started meowing.

She got out of the carrier on wobbly paws, and started on a tour of the apartment, swaying a little bit. The keyhole surgery had gone well, and all that Mishap had to show for it was the grogginess, a shaved patch on her right side with a couple of sutures holding together a miniature cut, and a shaved paw where they’d taken her blood and then given her an IV-drip afterwards, to promote faster recovery. 

Mishap stumbled over a threshold, and Solas picked her up, very carefully, to carry her around the rooms, so she could see everything was in its right place. The cat once again purred in his arms, flattening herself against him. Ellana was close to melting into a puddle. He gave her a little water in a dish. Which Mishap tasted and then sneezed at.

The instructions for aftercare were simple and short. Mishap had been given long-acting antibiotics, but they had some anti-inflammatory tablets and painkillers for the next three days, and a scheduled check-up for the week after. Solas had asked quite seriously whether another checkup was not recommended, perhaps in 24 or 48 hours, but the vet had said that would only be necessary if they saw any redness or pain. 

When Solas did not appear mollified, the vet gave him her personal number, promising he could send her pictures of the wound if he had any doubts about Mishap’s progress.

Ellana had some suspicions about that. She’d never received a vet’s personal phone number.

After the walkaround was complete, Solas put Mishap gently down on her bed. Mishap complained immediately once he stopped touching her.

“I think you’re stuck with her,” Ellana said. She was almost certain that Mishap was putting on a show for Solas’s benefit, but there didn't seem to be a good way to suggest putting that theory to a test. 

Solas ended up sitting on the sofa with Mishap in his arms, splayed across his chest, snoring a little bit. It was the only way she would fall asleep. Ellana sat on a chair opposite them, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Are yours also this—” Solas seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Clingy?” Ellana suggested. “Da’len can be. Not after seeing the vet, though.”

“Hmm.” 

“Do you need anything? Tea, a glass of water? A snack?”

“I’ll settle for conversation,” he suggested.

Ellana racked her brain for an interesting topic, and arrived at nothing. She looked at Solas. Solas looked at her. They both chuckled.

“Nice weather we’re having,” she said. “Very… weathery.”

“So did you have any cats when you first came to Markham?” he asked. He was threading his fingers through Mishap’s fur. He had really beautiful fingers.

“Believe it or not, there was an entire stretch of about three months when I lived on campus and had no cats,” Ellana said, with difficulty. “But then I met Keeper and I moved out to be able to adopt her.”

“Right. You first came to Markham for university.”

“University. Big city life. Independence.” Ellana shrugged. “I considered Ostwick, but it is so much more expensive. And Ansburg felt too close to my family.”

“I had thought about Ostwick, too, before moving to the Marches,” Solas said. Coming from him, that was almost oversharing. “But being within a walking distance of the sea tripled the price of real estate when compared to Markham.”

“And ‘walking distance’ can mean anything from five minutes to an hour and a half,” said Ellana, who had returned to the dream of living by the seaside once her personal finances had improved, and perused many an apartment-for-sale ad before deciding that sadly, Ostwick continued to be out of her price range.

“Yes. Precisely.”

Mishap turned her head around and glared at Ellana. She seemed to be growing livelier and more awake with every minute, and directing most of her offense at Ellana.

“Do you think she’s up for a meal now?” Solas asked after Mishap started kneading his chest, her sharp claws definitely wreaking havoc on the fabric of his shirt. Possibly his chest, too. Ellana startled at the question.

“Well, it’s not quite the six hours the vet said, but I have never been that great at sticking to a timeline. Maybe just a couple of forkfuls to start, and mashed with some water?”

Mishap graciously allowed them to feed her from the overpriced cat pouch Solas had apparently purchased on the sly. She ate everything, in small, thoughtful bites, and then, having considered her options, went to use the litter box.

“I think she’ll be just fine,” Ellana said. Mishap glanced over at her, and marched through the hall in a mostly dignified way, despite the occasional slight wobble, clearly making for Solas’s bedroom. Ellana bit her tongue before starting on an exciting anecdote about cats liking spaces saturated with their owners’ scent, especially if they liked said owners. “She will sleep it off and be good as new.”

“You are very good in a crisis,” Solas said.

“This is hardly a crisis,” Ellana protested.

“I meant the whole thing with Mishap. Being there every step of the way. Knowing what to do all along. It's been very impressive.”

“Thank you,” said Ellana after a moment. She wanted to protest some more, say that she’d done a lot of flailing along the way, but it would’ve been just fishing for compliments. “I mean, it wouldn’t have gone this smoothly without your help. But it all led to you finding your cat, so you’re well rewarded.”

Solas laughed. “You make it sound as if it had all been preordained.”

“You never know. It might have been,” Ellana mused. “But I do think you fit well together. She clearly thrives on the undivided attention.” And the pouches, as it were. 

“She still hasn’t started dismantling the apartment,” Solas said. “I should probably get going on installing scratchers all around, shouldn’t I.”

Ellana chose that moment to go on the offense. So to speak. “Would it be very weird to admit that this is a very sexy question?”

Solas blushed, either at the compliment or at Ellana’s almost direct approach. 

“That’s not a line I have ever heard before,” he said. “But I’ll take it, thank you.”

“It’s not a line I have used before,” Ellana admitted. “Installing scratchers doesn’t come up very often while flirting.”

“Are we flirting?” Solas asked, all false innocence. Ellana took a long look at him, half-covered in cat fur. He absolutely needed to be liberated from that shirt.

“I’m scheming how to get back into your bed,” she clarified.

He quirked an eyebrow, gave her a half-smile. “It’s in that room,” he said, pointing with one of his elegant hands. “No scheming necessary, and very little persuasion.”

Ellana closed the distance. “How little is very little persuasion?” she asked once up close, looking up at his face, one of her hands reaching out to be placed on his forearm. “Could I get an estimate?”

She got kissed, which was an answer of a sort. The preferred one. He held onto her, tilting her backward a little, not so much as to cause discomfort, but enough that she needed to hold onto him, her fingers digging into his arms, her mouth opening to his. 

She was supposed to have spoken to him about managing expectations. Mostly hers. Clearly, that was no longer on the agenda, as her entire body responded to his closeness, her bloodflow redirected from optional things, such as thinking, and low-priority pursuits, such as breathing, to the very significant job of getting off.

They were in the hallway, which was the wrong place for that. A suboptimal one, at least. But when she broke the kiss to suggest moving along to the aforementioned bed, her treacherous body insisted on her turning around instead, rubbing herself against him, demanding to be grabbed, held, stroked from behind. He licked a path up her neck. She buckled. He inhaled sharply as she held him closer to her arching neck, guiding him to the sensitive spot behind her ear. He gently bit the pierced lobe, and she felt herself flooding in expectation.

Ellana would have thought that having been fucked in the last twenty-four hours should have sated her at least somewhat, but apparently the effect was rather the opposite, with her body acting as though it had only just remembered its favored pursuits. She ached. She ground herself against him, his hand sneaking up her blouse to pinch her nipple through the fabric of her bra. She would have told Solas that was the way she liked it, but he seemed to have anticipated the request. His other hand brushed over her hip and then her mound, only a ghost of a sensation through the fabric of her sensible jeans. She still hissed, an inhalation she had no control over. 

But there was something else she wanted first, more than his fingers, more than even his clever tongue. Something she’d thought about in detail when trying to fall asleep the previous night. 

Ellana turned back around to face him, saw Solas flushed, his eyes darkened by desire, a mirror of her own. Another kiss was an inevitability; she put her palm flat against his chest to catch her balance, and slid her hand lower, until she was cupping his cock through his pants. Solas made a small needy sound right into her mouth. Ellana’s cunt clenched.

“I’m going to need you seated,” she said. She was still touching him, his hardness evident, his reaction satisfactory. She had a plan. He was amenable. “And naked.” Enthusiastic. 

The sofa was closer, and a better fit for her height. Ellana’s world had shrunk, limited by tunnel vision, but she was still strategic enough to grab a throw pillow (thank fuck his dislike of decor did not preclude a couple of throw pillows) and arrange it under her knees. He’d used the time to undress, following her demands, to sit where she had directed him. She would replay this to herself later, the knuckles of his right hand pale where he held onto the sofa, his knees apart, his lean thighs, his beautiful cock, dark, silky to the touch. Ellana held him, stroked him, almost purred in pleasure. 

Solas stopped her with a hand on her shoulder before she could place her hungry mouth on him. She startled.

“Would you–” he paused, uncertain, but only for a moment. “Would you undress for me?”

He might be simply practical. Blow jobs were messy. But Ellana burned all the same as she shed her blouse, her bra, her jeans. A tell-tale wet stain was already adorning her panties. Solas put his hands on her hips, hooked his fingers in the band of the underwear, and gently pulled it down. Ellana took a trembling breath. They resumed their positions, her cunt pulsing insistently as she ghosted her lips over his length, one of her hands helping keep his erection in place, the other clutching at his thigh. 

She licked a line under, closed her mouth around the head of his cock. They both moaned, her throat working to provide him with more sensation. She had to be careful not to choke around him, but that effort was somehow a pleasure in itself. She catalogued every hitched breath, every twitch, every carefully prevented thrust. She could feel the way he kept himself under control and she hollowed her cheeks, sucked him in, took him deeper. She wanted him to lose it. To be unable to stop himself from driving into her. She used both her hands then, to stroke and cup and encourage until he finally started thrusting, still very shallowly, slowly enough for her to take him as easily as this ever came to her. He paced himself, and she drove faster, her mouth moving up and down. His hand returned to her shoulder, easing her off. She read the request and rose a little higher on her knees, her hand now jerking him off more forcefully until he spent on her breasts, warm and sticky, her name spilling from his lips. 

He looked at her like she was a wonder, a miracle. Ellana used her fingers to taste him and drew another long, hitched sigh out of him. She could get used to this kind of adoration very easily. She looked at him from under her lashes and he crushed their mouths together again, tasting himself on her lips.

“Bedroom,” he murmured.

“Your bed might still be occupied,” suggested Ellana.

Surprise knotted Solas’s brow for a moment. He looked adorable with his brains scrambled. “Right. Mishap.”

“No take backs on the cat,” said Ellana, swatting his shoulder lightly.

“I would never.”

They took a short detour to grab a towel, and two glasses of water. The bed was, indeed, occupied, by Mishap in a full shrimp pose mode, paw over eyes, the small bald patch on her side showing the barely visible stitches over the pale pink cut. She naturally removed herself swiftly from their proximity as soon as she apprehended Ellana’s (bare) bottom. There was no one who could judge a person quite like a cat.

They tumbled onto the bed, Ellana’s very temporarily dampened desire coming back in force as soon as Solas’s frame towered over her. He mapped her body with his fingers and mouth. His own need might have been sated for now, but clearly, that did not apply to his hunger. He feasted between her legs until she drew him up, almost overstimulated, wanting his weight on top of her more than his tongue inside her.

“Use your fingers,” she whispered into his ear. She guided him; gentle, harder, gentle, faster. Hard. She came with his fingers inside her, his thumb on her clit, his teeth on her ear. It was perfect. It had no business being this perfect. She would get used to it.

Chapter Text

The second encounter with the wilderness finds Ellana much better prepared. She dresses for the weather, she brings sensible hiking boots that should survive getting wet or muddy, she has a pair of sunglasses, a water bottle, a fully charged phone. Merrill lends her her spare pair of binoculars again, and introduces her to the group.

Hawke, whom Ellana instantly clocks as most likely to be the aforementioned ex—and whose name sounds, mysteriously, vaguely familiar—is a slim, spiky-haired human, and her boyfriend, Fenris, is the gloomiest, most emo-looking platinum-haired elf Ellana has seen since her own white-hair-and-smudged-eyeliner phase, which happened around the time she was going paranoid and giving up on her dream career. Hawke apparently comes as a set with a pretty sister, brown-eyed Bethany, Bethany’s extremely jock-type blond human boyfriend (whose name Ellana instantly forgets), and two people that Ellana just so happens to already know, if not well.

“Oh, you work at the vet clinic!” she exclaims at the red-headed dwarf girl. “You helped with a blood draw the other day. I’m so sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

The dwarf smiles brightly. “Lace Harding. I’m actually new, so right back at you. I mean, I’m not sure I would have recognized you, but I will know you now.”

“And Rook, of course!” The ever-so-helpful receptionist. She’s wearing her hair down, unlike the tidy pinned up braid she usually has while at the clinic, and she looks momentarily stunned.

“Yeah, fancy seeing you here.” Rook says after a moment. Lace makes a surprised sound, and earns herself a kick to the shin. Ellana blinks. “The boyfriend is not much for the outdoors, then?” Rook’s voice takes on a slightly different tone in the second sentence. 

Ellana blushes and hates having done so. “Oh, no, not a boyfriend. We just—share cat-stody. A little bit. It’s mostly his cat.”

“Oh, really?” Rook takes a step closer, then looks away. “Sorry for making the assumption.”

Ellana laughs awkwardly. “It’s kind of complicated. Can’t blame you! I don’t suppose many platonic friends co-own cats.” It’s not like she says they are platonic friends. She’s just letting them assume as much.

Lace jumps in with an, “I bet there’s a story there.” 

“It’s less exciting than it may seem,” Ellana says, and the evasion sounds to her extremely similar to those of Solas’s. “But how do you all know each other?” she adds, looking from Lace and Rook to Merrill. 

“Varric,” says Rook succinctly.

“You know Varric?” Ellana asks, surprised. Merrill gives her a cutely wide-eyed gaze.

“Yeah. Wait—you know Varric?”

“Everybody knows Varric,” says Fenris. “Who, by the way, has not deigned to show. As usual. Even though he’s supposed to be in Markham.”

“Varric only likes nature on that one perfect day in the spring, when it’s warm, but not too warm, and sunny, but not too sunny,” says Hawke, making everyone laugh, or nod in agreement. “So I wouldn’t take it personally. Shall we start out?”

They go down a dirt road, pausing every now and then to admire the flora. Or not just admire. Bethany, it turns out, is here to collect plants for her, as Hawke puts it, “modern witchy stuff, don’t ask.” 

“You can ask if you want to,” Bethany protests. Truly, Ellana isn’t sure where she could start.

“There’d better be wildlife,” says Merrill. “As you promised.”

This changes the conversation to a safer topic. The group starts reminiscing about past excursions and animal sightings, including the time they accidentally walked into a whole field of rabbits and scared them half to death.

“But with rabbits, everything scares them half to death,” Merrill says blithely.

“True that,” says Lace. “Horrible as pets, by the way.”  

“So, what’s the worst pet?” asks Ellana.

Opinions vary. Hawke votes spiders, Fenris votes hamsters, Bethany and her boyfriend vote birds, Lace and Merrill agree on rabbits, Rook picks tortoises, but says it’s a close call with birds. “Most birds should not be pets, really,” she says. “But tortoises—there is something uncanny about them.”

Ellana goes with rats. “Amazing animals, horrid pets,” she says. “Admittedly, I’m just very much a cat person, myself.”

“Cats are great,” says Hawke. “But dogs? Woof.” Bethany nods.

“They’re Fereldan,” Fenris explains with a slight eye roll. 

“So am I,” says Merrill. “Technically.”

So is Lace, apparently. And Bethany’s boyfriend. At Ellana’s questioning glance, Rook shrugs. “I’m from all over,” she says. 

“Marcher, here,” says Ellana. 

“Wow,” says Bethany. “I thought nobody was actually from the Free Marches.”

“I’m one of the very few,” Ellana says.

They wade through the grasses and into sparse woods, pausing every now and then so that Bethany can collect her herbs and the like. Ellana makes note of some clusters of embrium. Then they get into more muddy terrain, criss-crossed with small streams. They come right across some trees that have been gnawed on by the elusive beavers. 

“The beavers do exist,” insists Hawke. “But, well, they’re actually more active in the evening and at night.”

“We’ve done some very early morning hikes to have a better chance of seeing them,” says Bethany. 

“Some people enjoyed them more than others,” says her boyfriend.

“Some people were properly dressed and didn’t end up freezing cold,” says Hawke. They bicker in that vein for a while longer. Ellana looks to Merrill to check her mood, but Merrill seems unperturbed. She points out some birds hiding in the tree crowns, and crows circling—and making a ruckus—above them.

“They’re warning their friends we’re coming through,” Merrill explains.

“We actually get some wild corvids at the clinic from time to time,” Rook says. “Broken wings, claw injuries, the like. Occasionally a hatchling that neighborhood kids find fallen from a nest. We check them for any life-threatening injuries, and then they go to the crow sanctuary.”

“Ooh, I need to go back to volunteering there,” Merrill says. “I did that last summer for a bit. Corvids are incredibly intelligent, you know, and there was this pair that really liked it when I came by.”

“Merrill can make nice with all birds of prey,” says Hawke, not unfondly. Everybody laughs, and Ellana wonders if the joke is a well-worn one. There doesn’t seem to be any palpable resentment among the group, though. Even Fenris’s hostility appears to be just a feature of character, and not directed at anyone in particular.

“Okay, we’ll have to be more quiet now if we want to see anything interesting,” Hawke announces after some ten more minutes of walking. Downhill from them is the river, and the swampy swath of wetland at the center of which the beavers have made their dams. They make their way downward single file, with Hawke leading the way. The ground becomes even muddier, but Hawke manages to find a path safe from swamp and with only moderate amounts of standing water. She silently points out additional traces of beaver presence, and some evidence that other animals have also recently passed through here. They see a couple of woodpeckers, and a variety of small wetland birds. Rook takes a lot of pictures. So does Merrill, trotting around with a proper camera, with optical zoom. Ellana uses Merrill’s binoculars to spy on the birds, and thinks there is a kind of magic to seeing all of this wild nature.

So it makes perfect sense that that’s the moment she slips on a wet rock, skids forward and, trying to regain her balance, falls backwards, landing on her left ankle, which gives a sickening crunch. The shooting pain blinds her for a second.

“Motherfucker,” Ellana says, looking right into the bright blue sky above her. “Just my fucking luck.”

***

Solas spends another early spring weekend doing nothing in particular. He goes for a walk, and brings some baked goods home. He does some cleaning, and reading, and even takes his other laptop out for some work on the secret project, but doesn’t make any great progress in that last one. 

Somehow, he is out of sorts. 

On the face of it, everything is fine. Mishap is good, no more sneezing, no more runny eyes, no worries there, just typically ravenous appetite and purring. His own health is good. The weather is picking up, which usually has a positive effect on his mood. The project is happening, and while the progress is slow, these things take time. His social life might be a little lacking, but he keeps in touch with those he wants to be in touch with.

Except, Solas realizes, he hasn’t heard from Ellana in a week. 

And that should be fine. That should be more than fine. This has been his goal, hasn’t it. Their lives need to be disentangled, after all. Therefore, being irritated about it happening is entirely irrational, though sadly, this realization does nothing to ameliorate his frustration. Ellana’s life does not revolve around him: this is no surprise, and he should be glad that she gives him a wide berth, because that should make it easier for him to forget her. Instead, he feels resentful. And he misses Ellana. Seeing Ellana, her beautiful smile; hearing her voice and laughter. Ridiculous.

Mishap headbutts his calf, and he leans to pick her up off the floor. She purrs loudly as Solas scratches her chin. Mishap wouldn’t terribly mind not seeing Ellana again. Gratifyingly, Mishap has made it clear, time and again, that Solas is her preferred elf. It’s silly, but the validation is priceless.

One solution would be to uproot himself again, take the cat and move halfway across another continent. It is a somewhat extreme idea, just to avoid thinking about one pretty elven woman, but one that could put an end to this problem.

He knows in his bones he won’t be moving, not for that. He wishes there was a surreptitious—and non-creepy—way to check on Ellana, but her public online presence these days is (commendably) sparse. A semi-regularly updated account dedicated to the pictures of her cats is the one thing that she keeps up; she once explained to him that cats were a mostly neutral topic, and that she enjoyed having this record of them. Still, the comments and messages are turned off, after the lessons Ellana learned in the past. Solas more than understands.

He does not text Ellana. He does not look for a reason to seek Ellana out. He just needs to get used to having less of her in his life. And he needs to fill his time, and more importantly, his thoughts, otherwise. Thus motivated, he goes back to the project, and trudges on, stubbornly, until he is able to say that a hurdle has been cleared, the data on yet another suspicious corporate entity double-checked, and the day has not been wasted on reminiscing about Ellana.

***

The blond jock proves exceedingly useful, as Ellana is not at all able to walk back to the nearest road. The left ankle starts swelling, and the one attempt Ellana makes at standing has her see white from the pain. Hawke and Fenris, both surprisingly buff for their frames, take turns supporting her on the right side, while the jock holds her up on her left. Ellana does a little hopping on one leg, a little being lifted over obstacles, and then there’s a treacherous bit of meadow that causes the guy to stop for a moment, look around, say a very resigned “Nope,” and offer to lift Ellana up to carry her across.  

Ellana has already given up on her dignity for the day, so being carried it is. This new position gives the chance to notice that her left wrist also feels rather banged up, but that is less immediate on the list of concerns, because she doesn’t need her wrist to walk.  

When they finally get to an actual road that vehicles can traverse, Leliana is already waiting for them, standing next to her car. “If you wanted me to come along that bad, you could have used emotional blackmail,” she says. “You didn’t need to get injured.”

“I’d laugh, but then I’d probably start crying,” says Ellana, “and I’d rather avoid that part.”

“You’ll be fine, pet,” says Bethany. “I can’t be sure without an X-ray, but I’d say it’s a small fracture. A very unlucky fall, but nothing that rest and rehab won’t put to rights in a couple of months.”

Ellana feels the tears closer to the surface. A couple of months. What about her livelihood! What about her BA project, and the last two classes she’s been taking. 

“Ellana, don’t listen to my sister, she’s barely a doctor, and she’s not in orthopedics,” butts in Hawke. “Go see a real doctor.”

Bethany glares. “I’m a real doctor!”

“You’re a second year, and if Ellana had a stomach ache or the flu, I’m sure she’d love your help, but bones are not your area. Ellana, you’ll be okay, and please let us know if we can do anything to help!”

“It’s not your fault I cannot be trusted on flat surfaces,” says Ellana bravely. “But I may still hold some of you to it,” she adds, looking at Merrill, who actually blanches at that slightly more than warranted.

“It’s been super fun getting to know you,” says Rook. “Please, don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, and especially if you need any vet help. You have my number now.”

Ellana remembers about the scheduled visit that she will no longer be able to make. “I am afraid I may actually need to ask you for some help there,” she admits. “I am so sorry.”

Merrill insists on coming along and Leliana drives them to the emergency room, where Ellana takes a seat in the waiting area, fills in forms and experiences the internal anatomy of her foot in ways that she’d really rather not learn. There seem to be at least three types of pain that the foot produces. Bethany has told her to take off her shoe and keep the leg elevated, which is less than comfortable in the crowded arrivals bay, but nothing to be done for that. At least they are able to get some ice from one of the nurses, which helps with the pain and the swelling. 

They only wait about an hour before an orderly takes them in for the imaging, X-rays her ankle as well as her wrist, and an hour or so later, they are being seen by an orthopedic surgeon. Ellana seems to have selected a less busy time for her emergency.

“It’s a minor fracture,” the surgeon says. “We’ll put you in a cast, we’ll prescribe you some pain meds, and you’ll need to keep the leg elevated and stay off your foot for a few days. Then you should be able to get around your apartment more easily. Avoid stairs.”

Ellana can tell she will not remember anything they’re saying to her right now, other than that she’s horribly fucked.

“I’ll give you written instructions,” says the doctor. “But I’m sorry to say, the wrist will also need to be stabilized. It’s just sprained, but you’ll need to take it easy for two weeks at the very least.”

“Fuck me,” says Ellana darkly.

“That’s probably fine as long as you don’t jostle the leg,” replies Leliana cruelly.

Some time later, Leliana drives her home. Together with Merrill, they help Ellana up the stairs. The cats are flummoxed to see her in the cast, and take turns smelling the bulky thing. 

“Tell me what you need by way of shopping,” Leliana says. “Are the cats all set?”

“The cats are fine,” Ellana says. “No, that’s not right. If one of you could give them some food sometime soon—”

She feels a little out of it. Tired. Not all there. It may be the pain meds, it may be the shock. It may be that she is actually a little hungry. And embarrassed. She doubts anyone will want to take her hiking after the ankle has healed. 

“I’ll feed the cats, and make you tea,” Merrill offers. “Sweetened tea should help you feel more like yourself.” 

Leliana and Merrill take stock of the kitchen while Ellana arranges herself in her bed. It is not easy when she can barely use her left hand and her left leg is not much better than dead weight. 

Ellana has a moment of gratitude at the thought that she has recently cleaned much of the apartment, so she doesn’t need to worry about her friends loading her dishwasher or finding a stack of laundry on the floor. 

As promised, Merrill brings tea, and some cookies from Ellana’s stash. “You could sleep, if you want to,” she suggests. “I have my tablet, so I can do some reading, and wait until you wake up.”

“You don’t need to—” Ellana starts saying, but Merrill cuts her off.

“I definitely need to and it’s no problem.”

“Sleeping is not a bad idea, actually,” Leliana says. “But you should have someone around to help you out. I will go do the shopping and bring something for dinner. Well, for late dinner,” she adds, noting the hour. 

“Merrill is vegan,” Ellana says, and Leliana nods and mutters something that might be an “Of course she is.” 

Ellana ends up napping, after all, straight through evening. When she wakes up, groggy and only now truly feeling all the aches and pangs, it turns out that Leliana has already left, and Cassandra has shown up instead, and is in the middle of a heated whispered argument with Merrill.

“I’m up,” yells Ellana, and then she realizes that the reason she woke up is not that she’s rested enough, but rather, that she needs to go, yesterday. 

She could probably hop to the bathroom on her right leg, but with her luck, she would end up face-first in the middle of the floor, and need to be put in a whole-body cast for a fiscal quarter. She abandons pride.

“Gals, would one of you mind escorting me to the bathroom?” she asks.

“Taking the first shift,” announces Cassandra triumphantly. “Ellana, I thought your yoga was supposed to make you strong and supple, so such accidents are less likely,” she says as Ellana leans against her. 

“Your bedside manner is poor but your support is strong,” replies Ellana. 

She manages to pull down her pants one handed and, sitting down, considers the next few days with a mixture of pragmatism and dread. She can probably ask Cassandra to put the plastic stool inside the shower stall, so she can wash herself safely. She has the crutches to get around once she feels a little better. Well, if her wrist can handle it. Otherwise, she has one crutch, but it’s better than nothing.

She should be able to hop from the bathroom to the kitchen and back to bed, she imagines. She should be able to put on a t-shirt, and a pair of yoga pants. She can feed herself, no need for complex cooking. She can probably feed the cats, with a little extra effort. She imagines she will need help with the litterboxes, and there’s no way she’ll be able to take Hunter to his appointment on Thursday.

She should be able to type at least some of her work one-handed. It won’t be as fast, but at least she can get some work done. She doesn’t have any catsitting scheduled until Wednesday, but she’ll need to let the owners know as soon as possible. Fortunately, she knows Herah from the cat rescue group is usually up for an extra shift or three. 

“Have you died in there?” asks Cassandra.

“Not yet, but give me a moment,” she replies. “When did you get here?” she asks after leaving the bathroom, an embarrassingly long time after.

“Just half an hour ago. Merrill says she’s fine to stay with you alone, but Leliana got a little paranoid. She said you might need more help, but I think she wanted to make sure Merrill isn’t a mad stalker, about to go Misery on you.” 

“Leliana is paranoid,” Ellana says.

“Leliana is cautious,” Cassandra states.

“It’s very sweet, actually,” says Merrill when they emerge. Clearly, she’s heard the whole thing. “Also, I’m possibly not strong enough to support you properly. In the physical sense, if you fell down. But if you need something brought to you or prepared in the kitchen, I’m here for you.”

“Have you by any chance fed my fur babies again?” Ellana asks.

“Yep, they’ve made it abundantly clear they were dying of hunger,” Merrill says. “I also played with them a little bit and cleaned the litter boxes.”

“Oh, thank you so much.”

“How are you feeling?” Cassandra asks some twenty minutes later, after Ellana has availed herself to some food and liquids.

“I’ve been better,” Ellana admits. Her leg does not hurt that much when it’s elevated, but she’s not sure if that’s just a psychological effect. Her wrist, however, seems to be getting worse: she has tried to scratch her nose using her left hand and sees the wisdom of not putting any unnecessary pressure on it. “I’m beginning to realize that I am about to be less self-reliant than I expected.”

“Well, then it’s good that you have a village,” says Cassandra. “And that the worst of the inconvenience will only last short term.”

“Hopefully,” Ellana says grimly.

Leliana, Merrill and Cassandra appear to have already come up with a system of shifts for the next couple of days. Sera is, unfortunately, out of town. Dorian has been roped into dropping in on Tuesday to bring Ellana shopping and take a shift of cat litter duty, if still needed. Hunter’s vet visit remains up for grabs with no takers so far, but Ellana decides to reschedule, anyway.

“Rook messaged me that she would love to drop by and help out,” Merrill says. 

“Ellana should not let strangers into her home while indisposed,” replies Cassandra.

“Ellana has an excellent radar for people,” argues Ellana. “And Rook is not a stranger, I know her from the vet office.”

“Your radar is highly debatable,” says Cassandra. “I am staying with you for the night. Leliana will show up in the morning.”

Ellana manages to stop herself before saying something foolish like ‘that’s not necessary’ because while that’s technically true, it’s also extremely fucking helpful for Cassandra to be there and bring her the proverbial glass of water. Or get the toilet paper rolls down from the top shelf that Ellana normally accesses by means of a stepping stool. 

“You are wonderful friends, you know.”

“You’d do the same for us,” says Cassandra gallantly.

“In the unlikely event of it happening to someone who’s not me,” replies Ellana, only somewhat jokingly. She does feel a little unlucky. 

Merrill pets the cats one more time—Keeper appears to have taken an instant liking to her, perhaps sensing a fellow bird-watcher—and says her goodbyes, promising to return the next day with some provisions. Ellana tells her that she should not blame herself for Ellana’s clumsiness, to which Merrill replies with incredulity. Apparently the notion has not crossed her mind—her kindness is simply there, not a result of unnecessarily guilty conscience. 

Ellana feels slightly weepy at the thought, which might be a side-effect of the painkillers. Or possibly the adrenaline crash. 

Cassandra approaches the next hour with the same logistically-inclined mind she uses at work. She moves and places chairs in strategic places, which actually makes it easier for Ellana to try to cross the apartment on her own. She also places that plastic stool in the cabin, helps Ellana to undress and then makes sure to advise Ellana on how to avoid disturbing her cast under the shower. Her competence makes Ellana feel a little weepy again. 

“D’you want to put  on something to watch?” she asks.

“Shouldn’t you sleep?” Cassandra suggests.

“I might, but it can play in the background, I won’t mind,” Ellana says. They decide on a spy drama series neither of them has seen. Ellana manages to make it through an entire episode and a half before she starts dozing off.

“Bedtime for you,” Cassandra says, mercilessly.

“The cats—”

“I know.”

“They will be up early,” Ellana warns.

“So will I. And call for me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” says Ellana. She half-expects to be tumbling around for a while, but she is asleep within five minutes.

The next few days pass mostly in a blur. Ellana shares her time between her bed and her sofa. Bethany has, very kindly, procured a walking frame for her from a friend in ortho, and it helps a lot with getting around the apartment. She no longer needs someone with her at all times, but she still gets visited twice a day, by a rotating roster of her friends (even Dorian, though the faces he made while cleaning the litter boxes almost made Ellana just do it herself, recovery be damned). Even Varric calls, but, busy as he is all the time, he offers to pay for someone to come clean her apartment; Ellana laughs him off, but promises to let him know if he can help in any way.

She manages to attend one of her Wednesday classes remotely, the instructor being kind enough to stream the tutorial especially for her. The other lecturer sends her the slides and a reading list to complete to make up for the expected three weeks of missed classes. Ellana feels less than certain that will be enough, but she crosses the fingers of her uninjured hand and hopes for the best. Maybe she will be more mobile by then.

Herah is kind enough to take this and next week’s catsitting duties. Fortunately, Ellana didn’t have all that much scheduled for the moment, though even this means a minor blow to her budget. She finishes a couple of projects, taking much longer than she normally would, and as soon as she sends one of them in, she receives a new request from the same client. She probably won’t starve, but there are going to be no spontaneous lattes to brighten her mornings, for the foreseeable future. Then again, it’s not like she can go out and get them.

The notion of starving reminds her of the message she has been kind of putting off. She was meant to catsit Mishap in two and a half weeks. That was supposed to be her closure. Her time to say goodbye to the cat, and to her owner. Also, she hates flaking.

She decides to put it off until after her Friday check-up, hoping that perhaps the doctor will give her a clearer timeline. That plan is promptly destroyed when Solas texts her, on Thursday, asking if they could change the catsitting timeline from Monday-Thursday to Tuesday-Friday. He encloses a picture of Mishap.

She finds herself struggling to breathe, which is ridiculous.

So, funny story, I actually broke my foot and I’m not sure I’ll be allowed exertion in the next few weeks, she types. 

It sucks. Everything is horrible. But it cannot be helped.

She hits send.

Chapter Text

The following days passed in a haze of lust and sex. Solas kept putting off making sensible decisions. Worse yet, he kept putting off thinking about making those decisions, or even considering the need to make them. Moments Ellana spent in his bed (on his kitchen island, on his sofa, pressed against his bedroom door, in his shower) were moments he didn’t spend obsessing over the lack of resolution of Sileal’s situation, or the relative lack of progress regarding his project. 

Mishap healed well, and seemed to have forgiven him his trespasses. She was considerably less willing to make peace with Ellana, who instead found herself with a new puncture wound when they were putting Mishap into her carrier for the one week check-up. Luckily, Ellana had come prepared with both spray-on disinfectant and a liquid bandage. She said she’d somehow expected that very outcome, her previous encounters with Mishap having left what seemed to be a permanent mark on her arm. 

Mishap had definitely not grown more fond of being taken to the vet in the meantime. 

They were seen by Dr Lutare again, and she pronounced Mishap to be completely fine. They went over the recommended vaccination boosters and the additional rounds of deworming to be safe. They also chipped her and registered the chip to him, an official act of ownership if there ever was one. Ellana and Solas celebrated by ordering more cat paraphernalia: toys, scratchers, window safety measures, a net to secure the balcony, a very large cat tree for the living room. It was very domestic. Almost romantic. Not thinking about the expectations all of this was raising was almost enough to give him an ulcer. Mishap, at least, thrived; she had already started putting on weight.

They ended up at Ellana’s later in the week, which served to make Solas aware that he was yet unprepared for how much scrutiny three cats could offer. Mishap was prone to removing herself from the room when people were busy with each other. Ellana’s trio walked in and out, giving the two elves and their activities assessing glances. Ellana laughed when he drew her attention to that. 

“At least Da’len isn’t actively trying to make you leave,” she said. “It has been known to happen.”

“Your benign overlords might tolerate me, what a measure of success,” said Solas before he managed to bite his tongue. Ellana kissed his shoulder, and pressed herself to him.

“More,” she demanded.

“We could lock the door?” he suggested, somewhat weakly, already reaching out to run a hand over the curve of her ass, her hip, her waist.

Ellana sighed pleasurably, but focused enough to follow that with, “Trust me, if you think they are distracting now, you do not want to try to have sex while they are desperately scratching at the door to check on my wellbeing.”

Solas thought he might still be amenable to that, but decided to withhold that opinion. Then Ellana moved up to sit astride him and pressed her cunt against his mouth, and he blissfully stopped thinking at all, lost in the deliciousness of her taste and scent. 

After, she lay with her head buried in his chest, and Solas held her, mind emptied and fuzzy, until one of the cats snarled at another somewhere in the hallway. 

“Kids,” Ellana called out, not even moving.

“Do they react to that?” he asked.

“Sometimes. When they’re really fighting, they don’t react to anything,” she said. “But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about cats.”

“I am willing to talk about cats,” Solas said into her hair. “These specific cats. And Mishap.”

“Missing her already, aren’t you.”

Solas thought about the bundle of fur, claws and teeth waiting for him at home, and felt fuzzy all over again, in a wholly different way.

“A normal amount.”

Ellana snorted. “You are going to spoil that cat so bad.”

That seemed like a distinct possibility. Ellana climbed up to press a kiss to his lips and Solas pulled her to himself. 

“We could order something to eat,” he said. “Spend some more time with your cats.” Cats weren’t supposed to be left on their own for whole days on end, he’d learned. “And then go back to mine.”

Ellana gave him a searching look. “I could eat,” she said. “But it’s a little late.”

Solas checked his watch. It didn’t seem to be that late to him, but he kept irregular hours. “Do you have an early morning tomorrow?” he asked. He knew he shouldn’t have. 

Ellana’s smile was like a kick in the stomach. “Not really. Only the overlords in need of morning sustenance.”

Having said as much, it was only logical to follow with, “Then why don’t you spend the night.”

***

Ellana had already prepared a bag. She’d almost taken it along, too, on a previous occasion or two, only to second-guess herself. Solas didn’t seem like he was about to get spooked by the presumption, but then, they didn’t really know each other that well, and definitely not that long. She lived so close going back home to sleep was really the most convenient option.

But now he’d suggested staying over, and that had to mean something. It had to be a good opportunity, too, for her to guide the conversation to establishing where things stood between them.   

She felt giddy grabbing her things. A little anxious, yes, but mostly in a pleasantly expectant way. Ellana wanted to tell Solas that she thought she was developing—no, she didn’t think. She had feelings for him. It was early, and they didn’t know each other that long, but—it was so good, whatever they had. She was charmed, and he made her feel beautiful and wanted. 

It was too soon to be in love, but she was a little bit in love with the notion of falling in love. Of letting herself fall in love. Just walking with Solas across the neighborhood felt like gliding through clouds. 

Mishap greeted them in a typical Mishap manner, first weaving herself around Solas’s legs, and then flopping dramatically, shrimp style, on the carpet in the living room. She gave Solas the sad look of a cat half-starved to death.

“Oh, no,” Solas said, leaning down to her. “Really?”

Mishap blinked pitifully, then meowed.

“My poor sweetness. We need to remedy that.”

“You know she’s lying to you, right?” Ellana asked. She knew for a fact that cat had been left with a generous lunch. And a dinner portion placed separately, and now very much consumed.

“She is a very small cat. She gets hungry very fast,” defended Solas. 

“She is a very smart cat. She knows how to get elves to do her bidding very fast,” disagreed Ellana, but she was not immune to the charm of a fluffy empress. Mishap got her food (another pouch, because Solas was clearly letting the cat live it up like the upper echelon), and took to eating it with gusto. She didn’t even wait for Ellana to be out of her sight.

Ellana meant to broach the subject-at-hand (or at least, attempt to approximate it) next, but other plans took on greater urgency, because she needed to kiss this silly elf immediately. And kissing led to hands delving under clothes, and clothes being divested, and fingers stroking and teasing, her slick, him hard, before they’d even made their way to the bedroom, to the bed.

They fell into it as a tangle of limbs, breathless and laughing, Ellana ending up on top, straddling Solas’s thighs. She ran her hands down his chest, felt his breathing, the shifting of his muscles underneath her. She ground herself against him, impatient, urgent, the closeness so easy, the kissing, the touching, all coming so naturally to her. The gasp he made as she put a condom on him, the way she moaned when she rocked her pussy against him. Solas pulled her to him, hands on her back, undid the clasps of her bra, his mouth greedy on Ellana’s revealed breasts. Ellana moaned at the sensation, the rhythm of her movement stuttering. 

They could take their time. But they could take their time later, because now all she could think of was having him inside her, filling her, stretching her. She was wet, ready, and aching. 

She might have said some of it out loud, she wasn’t quite sure which part, but Solas gasped around her nipple and then moved his head back, his eyes dark, mouth still a little open.

“Ride me,” he said, his voice quiet and low and Ellana was sinking onto his cock before he could take another breath, before she could. 

It felt luxurious, almost too much, as she adjusted to the angle, the pressure. His hands held onto her hips but she took one of them, placed it on her breast. He cupped it gently, as she breathed in and out, not moving yet, only holding him inside her. 

“Or we can stay like this,” she suggested. “I like it.”

“We have the whole night,” he agreed. “As long as you’re comfortable.” He moved his thumb around her nipple, never touching the nub. She stopped herself from arching into his touch and squeezed her inner muscles instead. 

“I’m perfect like this,” she lied, smiling. Then she clenched her cunt again, a little harder this time.

Solas lost that contest of wills, his hips jerking up, just a little, but enough to push Ellana to start moving. She rose and sank back, adjusting the angle, until it felt just right, until every stroke was driving her closer and closer. He moved with her, gently at first, then with more force, more speed as she accelerated. His fingers grew tighter on her hip, on her nipple as she adjusted again, arching back. She closed her eyes. She was close so fast it was almost disappointing. But there was no turning back now, the conclusion foregone as her own hand dove between her thighs to brush against her clit. 

Ellana rode him through her orgasm, still hard inside her as she spasmed around him. She collapsed on top of him, and he stroked her shoulders and back.

“You should see what you look like when you come,” he whispered into her ear and she shivered, an aftershock going through her whole body. He flipped them around, dislodging them, moving until he was on top of her, his cock once again warm against her entrance. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him closer. Not close enough.

She was not going to be very eloquent right now. “More,” she demanded. 

“Yes,” he agreed, driving all the way into her. 

It must have been the earlier orgasm that broke some kind of dam inside her and she found herself moaning with every thrust. The pleasure did not build at first, but every stroke kept her delightfully suspended, until she rolled her hips in a rhythm with him, his chest brushing against her breasts, and she felt herself grow even wetter, even more insistent. Blood rushed in her ears. She moaned louder, and his rhythm grew erratic. She didn’t mean to, but she made a noise of complaint.

“Bossy,” he murmured into her ear, slowing down. Almost pausing. She wanted to disagree, and also to make him move but Solas brought his mouth to her ear, biting her lobe and she thrust against him, clenched around him again. “Show me,” he whispered. 

So she showed him the rhythm she needed, her fingernails going up and down his back, gentle, gentle, then not . He got it fast, and she was back to meeting him thrust for thrust, until  he fucked her into her second peak, into  a cry she muffled against his skin.

He followed her just moments later, collapsing on top of her for a brief blissful moment.

Ellana felt all fucked out when he moved so as to disentangle himself from her. Solas kissed her, just lips against her skin.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. She was tempted to say no, curl up by him and just fall asleep, but reason prevailed.

“I should take a quick shower,” she said, sitting up reluctantly. “And probably hydrate.”

“That would definitely be advisable,” Solas said with a grin. “I’ll bring us water.”

Ellana shambled into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and ended up taking a not-so-short shower (Solas had a rainfall shower head, which was just lovely). She returned to the bedroom refreshed, and a little energized, wrapped in a bath towel, only to witness a familiar scene. 

Solas had, apparently, been in the process of changing the sheets, when Mishap decided she needed to take part in the process. The bed was unmade. There was one very happy cat rummaging under the half-stretched sheet. Solas was standing over the bed and watching Mishap roll around, a mixture of amusement and vague frustration on his face.

“Neat freak,” said Ellana fondly. She spied the water glasses on a shelf, took one, and had a sip.

Solas turned to her, and shook his head. “She thinks she’s helping.”

“They always do.” Ellana tilted her head. “She should be distractible with toys.”

This turned out to be true, and so Ellana went on feather teaser duty while Solas surreptitiously finished making the bed. Mishap jumped right onto the fresh duvet, but at that point, everything was more or less ready. 

The cat dealt with, Ellana dug her nightdress (plain black cotton, thin straps, just straddling the line between comfy and sexy) out of her bag. She dropped the towel to a chair, and put the nightie on. 

Solas made an indecipherable noise.

Ellana glanced at him, and was very gratified seeing the way he was looking at her. “I am not taking a second shower,” she warned him. “There’s a planet to think about.”

“This may come as a surprise,” Solas managed after a moment, “but I am no longer twenty-two.”

“First, this is very new information. Second, that makes two of us,” Ellana said. She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs at the ankles; this elicited another slight noise out of Solas. He stared at her until she covered herself up with the duvet.

“I think I will go help destroy that planet now,” he said, sounding a little weak.  Ellana nodded.

“Let me know if there’s any development re: age afterwards.”

“If you are still awake after all my rejuvenating rituals,” he said.

She reached for her phone the moment she was alone in the room, and scanned through the chat. Leliana and Dorian were talking about a show they’d both been watching. Sera was complaining about her day, and Cassandra was guiding her into the realization that she would need to talk with her boss. Ellana waited a moment, and then sent them a picture of Mishap.

AT THIS HOUR? wrote Dorian immediately. I SENSE A SLEEPOVER.

Clearly my day has been too easy, wrote Cassandra. If I need to evacuate you in the middle of the night…

straight ppl move so slowly, sent Sera.

excuse you, who is even straight?

yes fine. no1 is straight. anywhere. m/f couples move so slowly. fucking weird.

that’s a little better, Ellana replied. also, plz focus on the lovely cat.

the cat is v cute, where is the elf? inquired Dorian, predictably.

sheesh. respect his privacy.

Dorian threw in a bawling one’s eyes out emoji. Ellana snorted.

Speaking of, Leliana wrote. I wanted to let you know. The College of Enchanters are on their bullshit again.

ugh? Ellana asked. The “College” was a gossip site that specialized in minor celebrities. Ellana, having made it to morning tv programs on several occasions, apparently counted, despite her exit from the scene.

Leliana sent a link. Another “where are they now” listicle. Nothing terrible, just mentions you. Wanted to keep you updated.

Thanks, Ellana replied, thought for a moment, and decided she was too sleepy to look at the website right now. I’ll check it out in the morning.

You don’t have to check it out at all. I did, and it’s pretty much a rehash.

night, everyone!

She switched off the phone, put it on the side table, and burrowed under the duvet. She could still hear Solas moving around in the bathroom. The bed felt more comfortable than her own, the fresh sheets cool against her body. She distantly heard Mishap digging in her litter box somewhere out in the hallway. That, in its own way, was also a soothing noise. As long as it didn’t go on for ten minutes, Hunter-style.

When Solas finally joined her in bed, Ellana was still not asleep, but only technically. Between the evening’s two orgasms, she’d  apparently grown tired enough, pleasantly relaxed enough, that not even the novelty of the situation, the awkwardness of sharing the bed with somebody, was enough to keep her awake. She fell into unconsciousness, her last thoughts being little more than sensations. Warmth, comfort, contentment. 

Chapter Text

That Solas does not sprint out of his apartment at the very news of Ellana’s accident should be considered a testament to his self-restraint. For a split second, he considers texting her,

What happened?

Are you okay?

and Do you need me to come over and help?

In the end, though, he decides to forego waiting for replies, and just calls her. Ellana picks up immediately.

“I’m really sorry,” she says. Hearing her voice floods him with relief. She doesn’t sound like she’s in terrible pain, at least. She sounds like herself, too considerate for her own good. He bites his tongue before he can tell her not to be ridiculous, though he holds the sentiment. 

“How bad is it?” he asks instead.

She laughs. He’s missed her laughing. He feels all his resolve crumble. 

“Well, it’s not phone call level bad to me, but I would be lying if I said it was great,” she replies. “I believe the technical term for what I am is ‘fucking unlucky’.”

“What happened?” he asks.

“I fought a rock and the rock won,” she replies. “Really, I had an extremely unlucky stumble. It’s not a serious fracture, but it’s really inconvenient. And I sprained my wrist, which is honestly kind of worse.”

His heart falls a little with every word she says. 

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she says. “Everyone has rallied beautifully. Now I just need to heal.” She pauses. “Once again, sorry about the catsitting. I can give you the number of a person I know that could take care of Mishap.”

On some level, Solas knows that he could, maybe should take her at her word and not press the subject. She has a girlfriend now, and she has friends, and doesn’t need his help or his pushing. On another level, he needs to know that she’s actually fine. He promises himself, if she turns him down now, he will get the message and leave her alone.

“I was just about to go out, do some shopping,” he says. “I could drop by your place with some provisions, and you could tell me how you broke your leg, and about that other catsitter.” 

“I’m really mostly set,” Ellana says after a brief hesitation. “But I have never said no to fresh baked goods.”  

***

Solas shows up at her place half an hour after their phone call, and Ellana has a mild suspicion that the shopping trip may have been less than scheduled, after all. She wouldn’t have invited him over—well, said yes to him inviting himself over—if she hadn’t felt shitty about flaking on their scheduled catsitting. On their last catsitting. The prospect of saying goodbye over the phone, of maybe never hearing him again, unless they ran into each other by accident, felt entirely wrong. So she said yes. She greets him at the door, using the walker to keep off her leg. He looks thunderstruck.

“I don’t look that bad,” she defends herself. 

“You couldn’t look bad if you tried,” he replies smoothly, “but your hand looks—really painful.”

She has forgotten that she’s wearing a t-shirt, showing the now-almost-purple bruises on her arm. “That’s another funny story,” she says, “I did that by miscalculating a step and hitting the doorframe after my actual accident.”

He doesn’t seem to find that as funny as she does. She waves her right arm around. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. Well, not compared to the ankle. Or the wrist.”

“You should be sitting down,” he says, and hesitates before adding, “Shouldn’t you?”

Ellana hobbles to the living room, and sits down on the sofa. Solas follows behind her.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to keep off the leg,” she says. “So unfortunately, I shouldn’t even offer to prepare anything to drink—I think my friends have installed a camera in here, I swear they can tell when I’ve been on my feet for too long.”

Solas finds a plate on which he puts the promised baked goods, and sets it in front of her. Then he busies himself making the tea. The cats observe him with interest.

“Are they hungry?” he asks.

“Just trying to guilt trip us,” says Ellana. Hunter turns his head around and gives her a disappointed look. “Don’t mind them. How’s Mishap?”

“Unhappy about being locked out of the balcony. Otherwise, fine and round.”

Ellana laughs. “Still no balcony? Shouldn’t the antihistamines be in full effect now?”

“It was coldish for a few days, and I didn’t want to take chances before my trip,” Solas says primly.

She’d probably be the same if her babies had gone through the saga of Mishap’s proportions, so she just nods. And then it hits her again. “Right, your trip. This is some unlucky timing.”

“Clearly, it would behoove you to pace your emergencies so that they do not disturb my schedule,” replies Solas. “But under the present circumstances, I will simply reschedule.”

Ellana stops, an almond croissant halfway to her mouth. She puts the pastry down. “I told you,” she says, “I have a friend who should probably—”

“I don’t want your friend,” he says, looking straight in her eyes. She inhales and looks away. 

“You can’t expect me to be available,” she replies. “Anytime soon, anyway.” She should say at all, because she’s not going to catsit for him anymore. “Besides, you can’t change your plans because of me.”

He looks ready to argue with her statement, which is infuriating. Where was that level of caring when she wanted it. Instead, he changes the subject.

“So, how did you break your leg.”

“I was assaulted by nature,” she replies. “Merrill—whom you’ve met—”

“Your new girlfriend?” he asks.

Ellana blinks. “What?”

“Merrill, your girlfriend.”

“How would you even get that idea? Merrill is a friend.” Who she went on a single very unsuccessful date with, but that does not need to get litigated at the moment. 

Solas looks at her quizzically. She shrugs. “Is this because I mentioned nature? I could—and in fact, have—engaged in nature walking for non-romantic reasons. Alas, that proved to be a really bad idea. As I was saying when you interrupted with your assumptions, Merrill took me hiking with her friends, and I stepped on a rock.”

He stares at her as though looking for holes in the story.

“It was a really unfortunate way of stepping on a rock,” she explains. “Long story short, it’s a simple fracture, nothing that bad, but it means bedrest for me. Well, apartment rest. And I’m supposed to be careful with the wrist—” she shows him the tape on her left hand, “—because it’s also a little banged up.”

Ellana would swear that he turns a little green at that point. She’d never taken him for a wuss like that. He’d always been decent when patching up her wounds after her encounters with Mishap.

“And then the bruising,” he says. “I don’t think you should be left to your own devices.”

“There’s someone here with me most of the time,” Ellana counters. Well, there has been, so far. She thinks she’s really fine scaling down on that, at this point. She has developed a decent system, as long as someone helps her with the litterboxes (far too much stooping), and the shopping. Maybe opening some of the more stubborn cans, just for convenience. If need be, she can sit down and open even a jar one-handed. Probably. “I have a checkup tomorrow,” she says.

“Why don’t I drive you,” he offers immediately. 

“You’re probably working. It’s around noon,” she replies. “Besides, Leliana has offered to take me.”

“It’s not a problem for me to shuffle things around,” he counters. He looks oddly insistent. “Please, let me do this for you,” he adds. “You helped me during my crisis. It’s only fair that I help you with yours.”

Redressing the balance. She can understand that. She can even see that this is a way for him to apologize for the other part of it, the earlier part, when he was the crisis. Which means that a part of her wants to leave him indebted and off-balance, but the other—well. 

He is tall, and it should be easier for him to help her down the stairs than it would be for Leliana. Well, less easy than for Cassandra, but Cassandra shouldn’t take a whole day off work to drive up to Markham just so she can taxi her to the doctor.

“Oh, fine,” she says. “If it’s so important to you.” 

***

Solas arrives in front of Ellana’s building with way too much time to spare, and sits awkwardly in his car for a few minutes until his phone buzzes with a message.

you know I can see you in the car, right, Ellana texts.

Instead of replying, he gets out and lets himself in, using Ellana’s code. She has left the door unlocked, and when he enters, he finds her sitting on the sofa. “Well, since you’re here, I will put you to menial work,” she announces. His heart skips a stupid beat.

“Does it involve feeding a hungry horde?” he asks. Hunter headbutts his ankle, and he leans down to scratch the cat’s ears. 

“What if I told you it’s only part of the journey,” replies Ellana. 

He makes quick work of the litterboxes, dispenses food, and then quickly unloads the dishwasher. Ellana looks ready to protest but instead thanks him. That takes care of the extra time, given that he’s not quite sure how fast they’ll be on the stairs.

The answer is very much: not fast. After the first flight of stairs, Solas informs Ellana that he will carry her the rest of the way down, and then go back up for her things. Ellana pauses, as if to protest, and then gives him a small shrug.

“Can you hold on to my neck?” he asks.

She isn’t heavy, and gravity is on their side, but it is still an uncomfortable trip down, the cast being only one of the problems. Ellana clings to him with her healthy arm, throwing the other one awkwardly over his shoulder.  She smells like fresh laundry, deodorant and herself , and it’s just pure torture to have her so close. He holds her waist, and tries to maneuver in such a way that her bad leg won’t bump into every single wall.

“I’m sorry,” Ellana says no fewer than seven times.

“How did you get up to your apartment after the accident?” Solas asks, when she is safely deposited in his car, and he leans against the roof to catch a breath. 

Ellana shakes her head.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I was quite hopped up on pain meds.”

“Ah.”

He goes back for the walker, and her bag. When he finally gets into the car, Ellana is watching him carefully.

“Thank you,” she says. “It’s really—it’s very nice of you to be helping me.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” Solas says.

“You could literally have said ‘I’m very sorry for your temporary loss of mobility’ and left it at that. Or offered to do my shopping, and nothing more,” Ellana says. 

“It’s just settling the score after all the times you’ve helped me take Mishap to the vet,” he repeats.

“It would have been easier if I could just fit into a carrier,” she says, somewhat wistfully. 

At the hospital, Solas has Ellana wait in the car while he locates a wheelchair. He then wheels her right to the appropriate hallway, and settles her into the queue next to her doctor’s room. 

“You don’t have to wait with me,” she says. Solas huffs. 

“I’m not going to leave you here on your own.”

“I just meant, you could go back to the car, or have a walk around,” Ellana explains. “And I would text you if I needed you back. But you can hang out with me, sure.”

Solas stands awkwardly by her side. Ellana looks into her phone. 

“I have to let the groupchat know I’ve made it here,” she says. 

He checks his own phone. No messages. 

“I have to say, it’s kind of funny in a horrible way how much time we’ve spent together waiting for medical assessments,” says Ellana after a moment. Solas shudders.

“Mostly it’s horrible. We need better hobbies,” he disagrees.

“Honestly, I’d rather be the injured party than bring Mishap to the vet.”

Solas snorts. “I’m not sure which would be worse for me to say here, disagreeing or agreeing.”

Ellana elbows his hip. “It’s okay to admit that it’s better. I’m a much easier patient than Mishap.”

“You could probably apply your own eyedrops, which is a plus,” he concurs.

“That’s a low bar, but I’ll happily take this praise,” says Ellana. 

She is asked into the doctor's office just five minutes after the given hour, which, he supposes, is quite a win. Solas paces the hallway , reading and re-reading the posters on the walls, as he waits for Ellana to re-emerge.

When she does, she is uncharacteristically subdued.

“What is wrong?” he asks, immediately. Ellana shakes her head and refuses to answer until they are halfway back to the car, at which point he’s ready to commit violence if that could solve Ellana’s problems. Unfortunately, it can’t.

“The doctor gave me quite the dressing down, since apparently I’m not healing as well as I should be,” she says finally. “It’s strict bed rest for me for the next week .” She sighs. “Guess I shouldn’t have been joking about being a better patient than Mishap.”

Solas bites his tongue so as not to point out that Mishap would need to be confined to a carrier in order to achieve something in the vicinity of bed rest. That might be—overly familiar a comparison to make.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead. “If you need any help—”

“I do not want to impose any more than I already have,” replies Ellana in clipped tones. 

Solas replays the conversation in his head while assisting her into his car, and again while taking the wheelchair back to the foyer. He returns to Ellana typing furiously on her phone with her one uninjured hand.

“You haven’t imposed,” he says. “I offered to help because I want to help.”

“We’re all good now,” says Ellana, pointedly looking to the side. “Your obligations are discharged.”

“Helping you is not an obligation,” he tries again.

“I’m not a stray cat that you picked up and are now stuck with even after a break-up,” says Ellana. “Besides, I’ll do fine on my own. Well, with the help of my friends.”

Solas sighs deeply. Ellana replies with an angry yelp that sounds almost like a stifled sob and feels like stabbing pain right in Solas’s gut.

“It sounds like you’re angry with me,” he says.

“Why would I be angry with you?” Ellana replies angrily.

Solas shrugs. “I could probably come up with a couple of valid reasons.” 

Ellana glares. “Thank you for the permission to have valid reasons.”

“Though I suspect a part of it is that you’re not angry at me, just angry, and I’m conveniently located.”

“You’re lucky you’re sitting on my left side, and I’m supposed to rest my left hand, so I can’t respond to this ridiculous claim with violence,” says Ellana, sounding a little less biting this time. “Besides, I’m not even angry.”

“That’s great. I wouldn’t want you to be angry with me.”

Ellana sighs. “I probably am a little angry with you. In general.”

Solas nods. “I know.”

“Is that why you want to help me? So I’ll stop being angry with you?” she asks after a moment. “Because I may need to inform you that I can absolutely stay angry with you while accepting your assistance. Just look at today.”

Solas considers her question carefully. “That’s probably a part of it,” he says. “But it’s not all. I know things went badly between us, and it was my fault. But then, later, when I asked for your help, you would have been well within reason to tell me to take Mishap to the vet and deal with her on my own. You had no obligation to help me.”

“I was helping Mishap,” she replies immediately.

Solas takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to minimize your input, because you were very helpful with her, but if I had to, I would have managed to cope by myself. I wouldn’t have let her get worse.”

“I know,” replies Ellana. “Still—”

“What I don’t know is how much of a wreck I would have been if you hadn’t supported me at that time.”

She doesn’t even know all of it. It wasn’t only Mishap, after all. He had already been distraught, back then, after the whole situation with Sileal. But Mishap’s illness and deterioration had been the last straw, and without Ellana’s support, he might well have fallen apart. 

Ellana takes a moment before responding. “Well. I’m glad that I helped.”

“You were a better friend than I deserved,” says Solas. “But I want to be the kind of friend you deserve. I know you have your—group chat people.”

“Yeah.”

“But you have me as well.” He suddenly thinks that he’s really doing great at this whole disentangling thing. As in, at jettisoning the concept from space.  “It’s not because you’re an obligation. Or if it’s an obligation, it’s a good one.”

Ellana snorts. “You’re changing your story.”

“I’m finding the right words. It will be my pleasure to help you. It’s not an imposition. I live close by. I can bring over my laptop to work from your apartment. I can take some time off—I have a lot of accumulated time off. And I can open cans of wet food.”

“That will be the least of it,” says Ellana.

“Why don’t you let me help you today, and then you’ll reassess.”

Ellana glances into her phone for a second before slipping it into her pocket.

“Okay. Today.”

Solas starts the car.

“Thank you,” she says. “I know I’m—well. Thank you.”

He looks at Ellana in the mirror. She looks horribly tired. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Solas woke up to the vague sensation of being watched. He opened one eye, then the other, and saw Mishap’s face—but at this moment, she was focusing her gaze on someone else. On Ellana, who was lying on her stomach practically in the middle of the mattress, hair hiding much of her face, one hand tucked under her pillow and the other thrown across half the bed. At some point during the night, she’d migrated to the center of the bed, with Solas ending up closer to the edge. She’d also appeared to have hogged her own duvet and a part of his.

She looked peaceful, and utterly beautiful. 

Solas tore his gaze away from Ellana and looked at his watch with a pair of very bleary eyes. The numbers he saw there were not right in the cosmic sense. That was what he got for bragging to Ellana how Mishap let him sleep in, he supposed. He decided to play the hero, and very quietly and slowly disentangled himself from the small part of the duvet that he’d been left and made his way out of the room, four paws following with less care for decorum. There may have been some excited chirping, but at least it was happening away from Ellana’s face.

He removed Mishap’s night bowl first and then changed her water (untouched, of course) and portioned off half a pouch into a clean bowl. Mishap jumped on the counter while he was in the middle of things, and was swiftly and delicately moved to the floor, then given her bowl.

She purred like a rocket engine even after she’d already started eating. Solas sometimes worried she might aspirate food by doing so, but she seemed to be doing fine so far.

He brushed his teeth (Mishap giving a couple of yowls at the closed door) and finally made his  way back into the bedroom. Ellana had not stirred. Either she was a heavy sleeper, or she was doing her best impression of one. She was still hogging the duvets. Correction, she’d managed to hog more of his duvet.

It was still at least an hour early for him to be up. He climbed back into the bed and tried to delicately tug his covers loose.

Ellana made a noise of protest and opened her eyes.

Solas froze.

Ellana blinked sleepily.

“Hi,” she murmured, and turned away from him, rolling on top of her duvet, and revealing a gorgeous half-bared ass. Solas slotted himself behind her, embracing her waist, and, assuming she was going to go back to sleep, tried wordlessly negotiating for more duvet instead of following his body’s baser impulses.

That was when Ellana craned her head slightly to look at him. “ Hi,” she said again, her voice low and sleepy and sexy.

“Hi,” Solas said  into her ear.

“You’re awake,” she said, pressing herself against him, her ass brushing against his half-hard cock. Before Solas could think, he pushed against her in response, going from might still go back to sleep straight to wide awake. Ellana made a small but seemingly appreciative gasp.

“Are you—awake?” Solas asked, cautiously, still not wanting to impose. Well, the more rational part of him did not want to impose.

“I don’t have to be,” said Ellana, rolling her hips against him. “If you do most of the work.”

“It’s hardly work,” he said, sneaking a hand between her thighs. Just as he’d surmised from his earlier view at her derrière, she didn’t have underwear on. She was already a little slick, if not quite slick enough.

Solas kissed her neck. Lay small kisses under her ear. Eased his hand away from between Ellana’s legs, leading her to make a vague noise of protest, which then blossomed into another pleasurable sigh when he palmed her breast through the thin fabric of her nightdress. She was soft and warm—pliable—and the way she was breathing in reaction to his touching went straight to his cock. She angled her own hand back, tugged at the waistband of his shorts.

“I want to feel you,” she murmured. He stopped his ministrations for a moment, pulled down his shorts, threw them aside and put on a condom; he rearranged Ellana slightly against himself, maneuvering his arm to be able to wrap her in a tight embrace. She rocked against him, and whimpered.

He touched her—slowly, leisurely, carefully—for what felt like long minutes, or no time at all. Ellana continued making noises, and rocking against him. Her breasts were peaked and lovely under his fingers. 

“Emma salin,” she told him finally, breathlessly. 

Solas was all too eager to oblige. The noise she made when he entered her was throaty and obscene and perfect. He held her for a moment then, revelling in how wet and hot she felt around him. He dug his hand into her upper thigh, fingers just ghosting towards her clit; Ellana moaned. He tried to keep in mind the rhythm she’d showed him the previous evening, but soon that was forgotten, lost in the torrent of sensations. Ellana’s slickness. Her gasps. His own heavy breathing. The slight, stuttery movements of her hips as she pressed herself to his fingers, and then planted her hand firmly on his to guide him to her clit. Her nipples, hardened to pebbles under his other hand. Her cunt clenching, pulsating around him as she came, trapped between his hand and his hips. His final thrusts, delivered almost mindlessly, mouth pressed to Ellana’s shoulder, blood thrumming in his ears. He came buried deep inside her, panting his pleasure against her skin.

He could have gladly just stayed that way, all tension absent from his body,  Ellana soft and languid in his arms. She sighed deeply when he finally slid out of her, and snuggled closer to his chest just a moment after.

“Back to sleep for me, now,” she said. Within minutes, her breathing evened out. 

Solas dozed off as well, and woke up some half an hour later, only to catch Ellana in the process of divesting him of the duvet again. She was, apparently, still fast asleep. Unlike Solas. And Mishap, who was now sitting perched on the bed, right next to his feet, eyeing the two elves suspiciously. Seeing that Solas was awake, she blinked at him imperiously and let out a tiny meow. The expectations were clear, even though she couldn’t possibly be hungry again.

He got up just the same, took care of necessities, elven and feline (the latter included the other half of the pouch, to Mishap’s slurpy appreciation), and then decided to prepare breakfast. If Ellana declined it, he’d just have the sandwiches for his own lunch.

Ellana joined him in the kitchen before he was through, a long shirt thrown over her nightie, her shapely legs bare. Her hair was an absolute mess, for reasons that he remembered quite distinctly. She was absurdly beautiful. He was staring.

“Breakfast,” Ellana murmured seductively. “I could murder for a cup of coffee.”

“Give me a few minutes and no homicides will be necessary,” promised Solas. He should have started with the coffee. He tended to forget.

“That’s perfect. I’ll get dressed,” said Ellana. 

Solas disagreed that her getting dressed had any business being connected with the notion of perfection, but he kept the thought to himself. Instead, he prepared a cup of coffee for Ellana, herbal tea for himself, and then waited for Ellana to emerge from the bathroom.  

When she did, the effect was quite striking. She’d put her hair up and thrown on a casual oversized long-sleeve t-shirt and a pair of black leggings. He felt quite sure, this time, that she had no makeup on. It was probably the very opposite of what passed for a seductive, sophisticated look. Solas was utterly seduced. With a sudden clarity, he knew that he wanted to have other mornings like this. He couldn’t imagine anything more desirable than being near her. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Ellana, to recognize every single one of her moods, know every face she could make. Happy, sad, annoyed, sleepy, flirtatious, ravished. 

It was too early. They’d only just met. But somehow, she’d changed everything. He needed her to know what she meant to him.

In the moments it took Ellana to cross the floor and walk up to him, kiss him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the next thought arose, a cold, unwelcome realization. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted her to know everything about him. But he couldn’t tell her. It wasn’t only too early, though it was that. It was also untenable. He had no right, no right whatsoever, to entangle her in his plans. It would surely bring her nothing but pain.

This was all a dreadful mistake.

“What are you thinking about?” Ellana asked him.

He was being ridiculous. It was too early to worry about some distant future. “Nothing important,” he lied. 

They ate in companionable silence, Solas carefully keeping his thoughts at arms length, focusing on Ellana’s face instead. She savored her coffee to an almost ridiculous degree. It almost made Solas want to have a cup. 

As soon as she was done with her toast and her coffee, her phone  made a noise in the bedroom. She brought it over, and seemed to look through some messages; after a moment, she grew suddenly much more subdued and discontented. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked as she scrolled through something, her brows furrowed, her mouth tense.

“It’s no big deal,” she said, instantly raising his hackles. “Just, typical tabloid bullshit.”

“Oh?” Solas asked, now more concerned.

“They have nothing better to write than some kind of random ‘where are they now’ listicle about former influencers. I barely even make the cut, except to round out the number.”

Solas schooled his expression as best he could. “They’re writing about you,” he prompted.

“If you can call it writing,” she scoffed. “Look, it’s just a bad picture and a bunch of sentences that all come down to ‘went back to school and does boring work for shitty money’.” She handed him her phone. He zoned in on the text first, vague on detail and short on information, but somehow managing to insinuate that ‘The Inquisitor’ was adrift and burnt out, a cautionary tale. Only then did he scroll up to see the first sentence of the part of the article referring to her, and then kept scrolling to see that the scarce text was accompanied by no fewer than five photographs of Ellana, including one from a few years before—a publicity shot, he would guess, with the trademark white hair, makeup, airbrushing—contrasted with a few that were more recent, including one that they must have grabbed from Ellana’s social media, and a candid photograph that must have been taken in front of her apartment. 

Solas recognized the clothes. It was what she had been wearing the day they put up the posters about Mishap. It could have been taken that very day. 

He felt himself go terribly cold. 

“This seems like a horrible invasion of privacy,” he managed to say, handing her the phone back. 

“Well, nothing I can do about it,” she replied. She tried to sound nonchalant, but didn’t quite manage it. 

“There are ways to scrub one’s online presence,” he said, almost automatically. “It might make it more difficult—”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she interrupted. “I’m not letting them win. The channel doesn’t bring in much of anything anymore, that’s true, just peanuts now and again, but I’m not being chased off. It’s enough that I changed the hair. These things were more popular at the beginning anyway. It’s the first time in like half a year. I’ll be forgotten soon.”

“Right,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

There was a moment of loaded silence. Ellana stared into her cup of coffee. Solas forced himself to focus on the present moment. 

“Would you like some more of that?” he asked, and refilled her cup as soon as she nodded. That actually reminded him of something. He moved to open the cabinet, and took out the paper bag containing Ellana’s favorite cinnamon rolls. He put one on a plate and placed it on the table in front of her.

“Oh,” she said, sounding pleasantly surprised for a change.

“It’s no longer fresh, I’m afraid,” he said. 

“It’s still delicious,” said Ellana. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

This time it was his phone that chimed. Solas stepped away to check the message. For a moment, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Then he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Sileal’s trial was coming to a close, and the news was bad.

***

Ellana watched Solas’s face go very white as he looked at his phone. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I—” he started. Paused. Didn’t even look at her, still staring at the screen. “I’m sorry. Something has come up that requires my attention.”

Ellana blinked. The morning had been wonderful. The barely awake sex, the sleeping in, the breakfast, the kissing. The way he’d looked at her. But now—now she was feeling increasingly weirded out.  

“Should I grab my things and go?” she proposed. She would be leaving soon anyway, what with the hungry herd waiting for her at home.

Solas nodded absently. “Yes. Yes, that would be the best, I think,” he said, without looking up at her. 

Ellana tried hard not to take it the wrong way. There could be a perfectly good explanation for why he was freaking out over the message he’d got, but—this dismissal was raising her hackles. She couldn’t quite tell why, but it was like a door had slammed in front of her face.  

She quickly corralled her stuff, and put on her outerwear. 

“You need to grab the cat,” she said, and Solas emerged into the hallway to take care of Mishap. His expression softened somewhat as he looked at Ellana in the doorway. Her heart skipped a stupid beat.

Ellana went on her tiptoe and they kissed briefly, over the squirming feline.

“Call me later,” she said. Solas nodded again.

After getting to her apartment, she sent him a quick photo of the eating cats; there was no reply. She kept checking her phone throughout the day, as she went about her tasks, and it remained suspiciously silent. 

Somehow, she didn’t feel like she could complain to the group chat. They would just call it a red flag that she got worried after a few hours of no messages, and tell her to cut her losses. Or, well, Cassandra and Leliana would, Sera would say something about how men in general couldn’t be trusted, and Dorian would demand to know if the sex was good enough to justify going through anxiety when he went radio silent. 

There was no need to think about second chances. It had only been a few hours. Perhaps his work emergency consumed him so completely he never even checked his phone. Perhaps it had died.

And the sex had been excellent, and that was a non-insignificant part of the problem.

But also: he was thoughtful. Sweet. He’d taken the cat in, for fuck’s sake. She shouldn’t spiral just because of one weird thing. 

Instead, she went all in on the long overdue cleanup of her apartment. She washed the litter boxes. She organized the cat food. She gathered all the errant cat toys and even threw away the ones that remembered pre-Blight days. She went through no fewer than three drawers of her own various and sundry, before moving on to her shelves. She put aside books she meant to return to her friends, or the library. Somewhat desperately, she even cleaned up her sock drawer. 

Still, no messages.

Yesterday at this hour they had been fucking in her bed. She was being ridiculous. But on some level, she knew something had gone wrong, and the other shoe was about to drop. She just couldn’t put her finger on why.

***

Solas commenced a flurry of activity as soon as he closed the door behind Ellana. It was the worst case scenario, and he’d prepared for it, they’d prepared for it, but it was still a blow. Not least because it meant Evanuris was still capable of enough influence to pervert the course of justice. 

That should not have been a surprise, but it stung nonetheless.

He would not be going anywhere near Sileal. It had to be assumed that she would be watched, and he would be expected. His collaborators would do all that had to be done to prevent Sileal’s arrest. Lin'thanelan was already on her way, and others had been conveniently placed in the vicinity to facilitate the implementation of their plan. 

He texted the codewords, confirmed the connections, spoke to the lawyer. There was very little time, almost too little to be sure they would bring this off. 

Compassion texted him updates, as much as was feasible and reasonably safe. They did tend towards cryptic, but that was both expected and for the best.

At some point, Solas realized that he hadn’t eaten anything, and that Mishap’s insistent headbutts were not actually an expression of friendship as much as a demand for long overdue sustenance. 

He fed the cat, and heated up some leftover sauce he had stored in the freezer; he ate it straight out of the pan, with flatbread he had in the cupboard. Thinking became easier once he had eaten. 

If he were given to praying—in fact, if he were given to religion at all—he’d be praying right now that they managed to pull it off, and smuggled Sileal to safety. He wanted to remind Lin'thanelan about planting seeds that could implicate Evanuris in the whole thing, and give them some bad press, if nothing else—but he had to trust that she remembered.

Trust was another thing he was not given to, but had to practice today.

He didn’t even take a look at his other phone until late in the evening, when he knew things were going to be fine. There were two messages from Ellana, both from early in the morning, and then nothing at all. Solas felt momentarily guilty. He should have let her know he would be busy. She was probably worried. He should let her know he was fine.

He stared at the phone. 

Or, perhaps, not.

Today might not be an outlier, but a foretaste of things to come. There would be more days like that. And Ellana—Ellana didn’t need any of that in her life. Worse—it was possible that Ellana, still in the public eye as she was, could actually be a hindrance to his project.

He didn’t like the thought, but he couldn’t really discount it. The article that she’d shown him in the morning was proof enough that her presence in his life could invite scrutiny into his. And he didn’t need that. He needed to be anonymous, keep to the sidelines as much as possible. Not wake up one day to find his picture in some online rag, linked to a former minor celeb. 

He had to break things off before it was too late. 

Of course, that point was moot. It was already too late. The considerate thing would have been to nip it all in the bud after the first kiss, but no matter what he did now, he couldn’t erase the past two weeks. So the next best thing was to end it all now.

So Ellana was going to think he was a jerk. She would get over it. 

Solas wondered briefly if he could get away with sending her a text. That way, he could avoid seeing the hurt on her face, hearing her upset voice. He thought it was an option—albeit crude and inducing self-deprecation forever after—if he followed it with putting Mishap in a carrier, grabbing a suitcase and disappearing from the Free Marches for good. 

Except, and the thought was thoroughly laced with irony, the carrier actually belonged to Ellana. Fuck. She could probably get a new one, but it felt unnecessarily cruel to add petty theft to the situation. 

He needed to think. He took his phone and finally wrote Ellana back.

I am sorry. There has been a complication. I will text you in a couple of days.

He turned the phone off to avoid checking it for her replies.

***

“In a couple of days?” Leliana repeated, incredulously. 

“That is strange, right?” Ellana asked.

“It’s not strange. It’s fucking dickish,” said Cassandra.

“Prob’ly his wife came into town,” said Sera, and scowled when they all turned to face her. “What. That would explain some things.”

Having received Solas’s message—and then no response to her own follow up questions—Ellana gave in and called her friends for an emergency meeting. She chose a bar they’d once drank at to forestall any discussions of location. They all came; Dorian was just now bringing them another order of drinks.

“I wouldn’t jump straight to being a married cheater,” Leliana disagreed. 

Dorian shrugged. “Cheating might be an option, and I could see this being a case of ‘I forgot to mention I’m encoupled’, but imagine coming back home to your husband or longterm boyfriend and discovering that he’s mysteriously acquired a cat. I vote no secret wife.”

“Come up with a better ‘splanation, tho,” said Sera. She grabbed her shot and downed it in one gulp. 

“His is not a married person’s apartment,” said Ellana. “I had the keys, for fuck’s sake. And I don’t want to come up with any explanations. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dorian took her hand. “Dear, I’m afraid until a better explanation presents itself, you may need to just assume that you’re in the process of getting ghosted.”

They’d never even put a label on things. That red flag was pretty evident.

“I think he freaked out when he saw the article about me. But it makes no sense. I’ve told him about these things.” But now that she’d said it, she remembered he’d also been weird, awkward, when she first mentioned the Inquisition, and her small amounts of fame. He claimed to be private—perhaps that wasn’t the right word. Perhaps he was secretive. And paranoid. 

Ellana hadn’t wanted to see it, because the dick had been just that good. Worse, the company, the time spent together had been just that good. 

“Maybe he’s really dealing with some kind of work emergency and in a couple of days, he’ll explain everything, and I’ll feel really stupid about freaking out and making you all come out and comfort me,” she said.

She didn’t think any of them believed it. She certainly didn’t.