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sweetmage · 4 hours

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For the writing prompts, Anders is always so certain that Hawke would be better off without him, are there any times where it's the other way around and Hawke's the one in need of reassurance?

Hiiii! Thank you so much for this request!! 💖Got super angsty in this one 😭

@dadrunkwriting

⚠PLEASE MIND THE TAGS!

Words: 2000+

Pairing: Hawke/Anders

Characters: Garrett Hawke, Anders, Marian Hawke (mentioned)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Alcohol abuse, vocal suicidal ideation, breaking things, threats of self-harm, grieving, twin!Hawke AU

Summary: After losing his twin sister Marian to the Fade, Garrett tries to drown his sorrows alone in a room with Anders. However, his sorrows soon begin to drown him and he spirals into dangerous levels of self-deprecation and self-destruction as Anders tries desperately to pull him back from the edge.

There was nothing wrong with drowning one's sorrows now and again, but the more Hawke drank, the more his sorrows seemed to drown him. He knew Hawke had just wanted to take the edge off, maybe forget his troubles for a spell. But it would seem the ale had slipped past his defenses and steered him in a dark direction. He was hurting, deeply, and it showed. The worst of his self-loathing had given way to anger. No, anger wasn't the right word, not even rage. Hatred, for himself, for the whole sorry mess he claimed to have wrought. A great big pile of misery and regret.

Honestly, Anders was a bit frightened. In their years together, he'd seen Hawke frustrated and sad, distraught and hurt, but not like this. This was a shade of Hawke he wasn't familiar with and he didn't like it. The way he treated himself, spoke about himself, was beyond self deprecating. Every foul epithet and cruel joke was directed towards himself, every heinous word or wishes for the worst all turned inward to tear himself apart. He looked like he wanted to murder the man staring back at him in the liquid surface of his drink, a man who, according to Hawke's own assessment, had betrayed his sister, abandoned his friends, and didn't deserve the air in his lungs.

He was spiraling downward faster than Anders could hope to stop him. Even his reassurances, gentle touches, and soft words could not penetrate the wall of hatred he'd constructed around himself.

"Anders?" Hawke's words are thick and slurred, his eyes bleary. His hands are shaking where they rest around his mug, and a fresh trail of tears has left its tracks upon his cheeks. "You believe in the Maker, right?" He asked, looking up to him for a moment before his eyes dropped to the table.

"Why?" Anders asked, reluctant to give a response since much of what he said Hawke simply weaponized against himself.

"M'not sure. Maybe I want to talk to her," Hawke shrugged, swirling his drink and watching the amber liquid slosh around. "Marian was so good... I bet the Maker took her right to the side, said, 'Good job, you're the best, have a seat by me and let's chat'. Bet they're friends. I want to see her. Do you think if I...?"

"I already told you, we aren't thinking about that," Anders said firmly for what must have been the thousandth time tonight. "You need to stop doing this to yourself." He reached out, laying his hand atop his forearm in what was hopefully a comforting gesture. Hawke did not flinch away, but the tension did not fade.

"As if the Maker would even have me. I'd be in the bloody fucking Void. Right where I belong. Everyone knows it so why do they even bother pretending?" He chuckled and smirked, swishing his drink again. "I go today or I go in forty years, what's even the difference? Doesn't even matter, does it?"

"Of course it does. I want to spend forever with you. I need you," Anders said softly. He squeezed his arm, then rubbed his hand up and down. "You can't say things like that, love."

"You can't be this nice, this sweet to me," he slurred, sounding on the verge of tears again. "You're lying. What d'you hate the most about me? I'm not gonna judge, promise. Just tell me. I deserve to know. Tell me."

"Absolutely nothing, love." The answer was simple, honest. He hated to see him like this, of course, but he didn't hate a thing about him. "How about I start listing all the things I love about you instead?" he offered, desperate to get Hawke to stop tearing himself apart.

"Yeah, okay..." Hawke snorted, taking a big gulp. "No. I don't think I can handle that. It's pity. 'Cause you're afraid I'll... y'know... if you piss me off enough, I guess. Or maybe not pissed... Just... yeah. But I'd go and get away from you anyway because I love you too much and I don't want you to have to look at me after when I'm all gross and... gone."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you won't be doing that and will be staying right here with me," Anders forced out quickly, his panic slowly rising as Hawke fell into another loop of degradation. It was like he was acting as his own personal torturer, secluding himself in a place Anders couldn't reach.

As though he'd said nothing at all, Hawke continued. "Then you'd cry. Don't want to make you sad. I did my best, always tried not to make people sad. Piss-poor job of it though."

"Love, I think you've had enough," Anders suggested lightly, concern marring his features as he placed a gentle hand upon Hawke's wrist, a warning as he tilted back his drink and drained the last of its contents. Hawke swiped the back of his hand across his lips and looked his way, his movements sluggish and unfocused. "Come on, why don't we get to bed? You're not doing yourself any favors."

He'd already downed enough ale to knock a horse on its ass, but he seemed keen on setting his liver to ruin. "I'm not drunk enough," he muttered, his gaze returning to the empty bottle at his side.

"I'd say you've had far more than plenty," Anders countered, sounding as uneasy as he felt. "You're making me nervous." He reached out to take the new bottle Hawke was grabbing for, but he snatched his arm away and his fingers tightened protectively around it.

"I'm fine. You need to stop worrying." His voice sounded wrong, slurred. He peered across the table and met Anders's eyes, as if only just now remembering he was there. "I'd stop if you told me you wanted me to stop."

"I just told you to stop," Anders said carefully, his heart hammering away in his chest, his whole body tensed to dive across the table and wrestle that bottle from him. "You're not alright. We can't keep doing this. Just give me the bottle, love. Don't fight me on this." He took him by the wrist again, urging him to meet his eyes. He could sense Hawke fighting with himself, between the depressive haze and his better judgment. His eyes were deep and dark with sorrow, shame, hurt. "Let's just go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."

Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. Anders hadn't the faintest clue anymore but anything had to be better than this.

"You're only telling me to stop because you're tired and I've talked too much and I kill everyone I love and you know it's true and you're sick of dealing with it. But you're too bloody sweet to tell me." He put his head in hand, doing something between a laugh and a sob. "I know how to shut up but sometimes I don't want to, you know? Shut me up, Anders, go on. I mean it." When Anders didn't immediately respond, he tried again. "Please. You love me, right?"

A lump formed in Anders's throat at his words, at how perfectly reasonable they seemed to him. Weaponizing what they shared, using their love to justify a hurtful command. And to what end?

The dam that had kept Anders's emotions at bay for most of the day had been crumbling, and now it finally broke. His vision blurred with tears, his chest felt tight, his breathing ragged. "Of course I do." It was all he could manage but he himself fell apart. "Of course I do!"

Anders grabbed for the bottle and wrenched it free from his hands with a strength he hadn't realized he possessed. Hawke barely put up a fight, but when he did, Anders wasn't having it. He raised the bottle above his head and smashed it against the table, sending shards and ale in every direction.

"Anders!" Hawke was startled out of his stupor. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision and get his bearings. "What are you do— Why are you crying? I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." His eyes were bloodshot and glassy and full of shame. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Can you put that... can you put it down? Please?" His voice quavered with unease as he gestured to the jagged edge of the bottle in Anders's hand.

"No," Anders said flatly. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. He'd been running on empty since Hawke returned with news of his sister. Now, he was spent.

"That's sharp, sweetie. You're gonna hurt yourself," Hawke tried, his brows pinching together with worry. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fighting for his balance.

"And what good did that do when I told you that all night? Huh? Is it so different just because it's me?" Anders knew his words were cruel and insensitive, but he couldn't control himself.

"Anders, please. Just... just put it down. I'm sorry." He reached out to him slowly, trying to coax him to drop it. He touched his fingers to his forearm. "It's late and I'm an ass and we can... we can talk about it and do better tomorrow." He brushed his thumb over the bare skin beneath his coat sleeve, a soothing touch. "Okay? Don't do anything crazy. C'mon baby, don't scare me." His slurring tone was shifting towards panic.

Hawke closed his hands fully around Anders's wrist, but Anders had lost his for threats and drastic measures so he allowed it, loosening his grip on the bottle to let Hawke lower it and take it from his hands. It clinked as he placed it on the table behind him, then pulled him towards him by the arms.

Hawke was heavy upon him, barely holding himself up, but Anders didn't mind the added weight. His face was hidden against Anders's neck, breath warm as he peppered his skin with clumsy kisses. "Scared me," he murmured, then let out a shaky breath. "I love you. Don't hurt yourself. M'so glad you didn't, I'm so glad. Thank you."

"I don't want you to either." Anders carded his fingers through Hawke's hair, the other smoothing up and down his back, keeping him close. "Sorry. I was being selfish. I can hardly imagine what you're going through, losing your sister. I want to be there for you, but I don't really know how. Everything I say makes it worse. I'm so frustrated with myself and so sad for you. I'm angry and I'm hurt, but not at you. I'm scared to lose you. I could never come back from that."

Hawke's breath hitched, then shuddered, a prelude to more tears. "I know. I'm trying. I promise I'm trying for you. I'm going to try harder, 'kay? For you."

He would have much preferred that he found that will and resolve for himself, but for now, it was something. Perhaps that was enough.

"Thank you. I'm glad," he replied. "Shall we go to bed? Maybe sleep will help." It certainly couldn't hurt. "Wicked hangover aside, maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

"I want to hold you," he murmured as Anders turned with him, leading him back across the room to their bed. "And kiss you." He sat down on the mattress with a heavy thud and then flopped backwards, awkwardly swinging his legs up.

Anders followed him in, and helped him get settled, tucking him in beneath the blankets and furs. He delivered just what he asked for, kissing him slow and deep and sweet for a brief moment, his hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck. It was a tender touch, gentle and loving. "There," he said as he pulled away, "That should keep you happy until morning."

"No" Hawke mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut. "Not enough. C'mere. He reached out and tried to drag Anders closer to him, but the motion was awkward and uncoordinated, and he mostly succeeded in tangling the covers around his legs and causing the bed to creak ominously beneath him.

"Quit that," Anders scolded him lightly. "Before you send us both to the floor. They don't exactly splurge on beds here, you know." Still, he moved in, offering another kiss, arms around his waist. "Just a kiss, alright? Don't you start getting any funny ideas." He was only partly joking, knowing Hawke's wandering hands and how easy it was for him to get carried away when they were all over one another.

"Funny? Who's funny?" he asked with a half-delirious smile. "You're funny." He nuzzled his cheek, kissed his jaw. "C'mere and kiss me more."

Anders preferred him like this. It did little to ease his fears and worries, but it was far easier to handle than that terrible look he had before, the way he'd been teetering over an edge Anders couldn't have hoped to pull him back from. And now he'd done it himself. It had taken some drastic measures on his part, but the worst of the night had passed, he hoped.

Selfishly, part of him hoped Hawke was so inebriated he would forget his outburst come morning. Maybe he'd tell him the bottle had simply shattered accidentally. Perhaps he could sweep the entire incident under the rug, literally if he must. He had more than enough to worry about without Anders's own unstable tendencies and emotional fragility to deal with.

The day had been kind to no one. Hawke most notably, of course, but Anders too was mourning, it just didn't feel the place to mourn aloud. The world had lost a good soul, one Anders had come to see as a sister and a friend. The same world had lost one of its most ardent champions, one who stood proud and vocal against its injustice. They didn't always see eye to eye, and he wasn't blind to the fact that he played a role in her downfall by pushing the first domino, but he cared for her no less.

Still, he'd always thought himself the protector. Even when it was hard, painful, and thankless, he took it upon himself to bear the burdens. He hadn't meant to break like that. He'd been fighting a battle with his emotions all day, one he thought he'd won, or at least kept out of sight. He hadn't expected the dam to burst so suddenly, so violently.

"Anders?" Hawke's voice was low and groggy, and Anders wondered just how long he'd been lost in thought.

"Right here, love," he whispered back. Hawke had his arm around him, a leg tucked up over his waist, his nose pressed against his hair, breathing deeply. He'd gone quiet a few minutes ago and Anders had assumed he'd fallen asleep.

"You okay?" Hawke mumbled, sounding like he was halfway there already. "You're shaking."

Anders hadn't realized it, but he was. The day's events and his breakdown were weighing on him, and the adrenaline had faded, leaving him with a mess of anxiety. He took a deep breath, held it, then let it go. "Yeah," he lied. "I'm alright. Don't worry about me. Go back to sleep." He was afraid his voice would betray him, give away the turmoil that was still very present and alive within him.

"Mmmkay." Hawke was fading fast, but not so much that he was blind to his distress. "I love you. I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass."

"Aren't we all sometimes?" Anders whispered, his throat growing tight. He was a mess and Hawke was apologizing. "Don't apologize. I love you too, more than you realize."

"Mhm." Hawke nuzzled against his neck and kissed the underside of his jaw. His lips lingered for a long moment, warm and soft, his beard scratching pleasantly against his skin. His breathing evened out after a moment then trailer off into soft snores.

Anders sighed and ran his fingers through Hawke's hair. He loved him so dearly. He didn't want him to think himself undeserving. Anders didn't have much time left, another decade or two if he was lucky, but he wanted to spend every waking second by his side. Hawke had to be okay, he had to heal, and move forward. They had so little time together and he'd already wasted the better part of a decade rotting away in Kirkwall, he didn't want to lose another moment with him. He didn't want to lose forever.

He found himself growing heavy, lulled by the press of Hawke's form and the warmth of his breath against his skin. The calling persisted, its sinister notes and haunting melody ringing loud and clear and the nightmares were sure to follow, but Anders was certain he could endure it all with Hawke alive and safe beside him. The most he could ask for after a night like this.

#hurt/comfort?? angsty hurt comfort for you????#i quite like this one so you WILL be seeing it again fjsjfj #dragon age 2 #hawke #anders #handers #twin!hawke au #dragon age

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sweetmage · 17 hours