Chapter Text
If one were to ask anyone of the Inner Circle who was the most innocent of them, the answer would have been clear as day. Cole, the young spirit boy who just wanted to help. Cole, the constant prattler of personal information to everyone. Right now, though, Cole didn’t feel such lofty title fit him. Especially when the man on top of him looked like a bright pink lantern by the way he was blushing. Cecil coughed and swallowed, looking away. Cole sat up a bit, touching Cecil cheek gently to show the mage it was all right.
They had been sparring, or as much sparring that someone who fought on the front lines of a war and someone who hid in the shadows could. Cecil had been dodging the spirit, trying to land a decent hit without being near enough to get hit himself. He had tripped on his legs, and the whole seven feet of him had crashed on top of Cole. Varric’s books had a lot of scenes like this, but with less nosebleeds and bruises.
The mage shook like a leaf, despite knowing full well Cole was safe. Cole had taken Cecil’s behaviour as nervousness about being ‘together’, as humans put it. But outside adrealine filled hugs and kisses after combat, Cecil didn’t touch him. Or, remove his nearly full body black outfit much. His thoughts were like a nervous tangle of uncertainty and fear. Of what touching another meant. And a lot of images of the rest of the Nightmares not being as chaste, even in front of Cecil.
“You are not them, Cecil. We don’t have to be like them” Cole said as he tried to calm the mage down, making Cecil only whimper.
“It’s not 'em, just…why aren’t ya pushin’ me away?” the shade asked, icy blue eyes wide and rimmed with all the lost sleep and hunger the mage felt. Somewhere in Cole’s mind, a devious side of him told him to hug Cecil, just to see how much redder the mage would get. Cole shooed the thought away fast, not the right time.
“You fear a punch, a blade or a kick. 'Never let someone compromise ya, kid’ the man with bright eyes said, as you watched him with bleeding lips. But, I’m not him, we are not fighting” Cole tried again, and Cecil just sort of…flopped on top of him. Flopped was not the most eloquent word Cole knew for it, but Cecil becoming limp and letting go of any resistance had no real alternative. The mage placed his head on Cole’s chest, shaking still.
“Not fightin’, but not fuckin’ either. If someone sees us, will they beat us?” Cecil mumbled and sighed, clearly just speaking out of nervousness. Cole smiled at the nervous wreck of a mage, stroking his hair now. Cecil took deep breaths, closing his eyes and clinging to the spirit. It was a strange moment, Cole holding onto the mage and rocking him slowly. Despite their awkward position, Cecil calmed down eventually and relaxed into the hug.
From that moment on, Cole knew he had his work cut out for him.