Can't Let You Go

                Sunday afternoon rolled around, The Hanged Man closed that day, and Douglas was sifting through ordering forms and other paperwork for the club on everyone else's off day.

                Isabela walked into the office, flopping herself into her normal seating arrangement, asking him, "So, how did it go last night?"

                Douglas looked up at her with a smile.  "Perfectly."

                "Well, don't leave me in suspense."

                "What is there to say?  He accepted my scrawled dinner request.  We went out, had a good time.  We weren't interrupted this time, and I took him home."

                "And?"

                "And I slobbered all over him in the back of the car like a high schooler in heat.  Happy now?"

                Isabela laughed, "I remember you as a high schooler in heat."

                "I remember you snapping my heart in half like a fortune cookie, too."

                "Please, babe, we were always going to be better friends than lovers."

                Douglas laughed, "I know that now but I had bought the line my mother told me about people in love."

                "Honestly, I am still amazed that was your first time; Hawke men must have natural stamina and ability." 

                Douglas chuckled, "I'll just take your word on that."  He shook his head, looking back down at the piles of paper in front of him.

                They sat in silence for several minutes before Isabela announced, "I'm thirsty.  Do you want a drink?"

                "Might as well since I'm buying."  He grinned wickedly at the desk as she smirked back at him and with a shake of her head she sauntered out of the room. 

                His cellphone rang a minute later as he was filling out the hardcopies for Norah to input in the computer later and he pressed the speaker button.  "Hello?"

                A male voice asked, "Did you pick up the package I told you about yesterday?"

                "Yes."

                "What about the contact I told you about Friday; did you speak to her?"

                "Of course, I thought I told you that yesterday.  You still must have been asleep."

                "Did she tell you when..."

                Douglas cut him off, "I have to go," and hung up the phone without waiting for response.  Hawke squinted at his new uninvited guest.  "How did you get in here?"

                Nathaniel Howe answered, "One doesn't spend their whole careers chasing slippery bastards like you and not pick up a few tricks."

                Douglas leaned back slightly, placing his arms on the rests.  "What do you want, Mr. Howe?"

                "I want you to leave Anders alone."

                "Why?"

                "He's too good for someone like you, Hawke."

                "Someone like me?"  Douglas asked with an arched eyebrow.

                "We both know what you are.  Leave him alone."

                "Does it really bother you that much?"  Douglas said with a smirk.

                "Yes, and we both know perfectly well that's why you are doing this.  Why don't you just fuck him, break his heart and get it over with?"

                Douglas laughed, "Is that what you did?"  Nathaniel growled in response, and after a few moments Douglas' eyes opened wide in realization of what this man really wanted and he chuckled again, "Oh, I get it, you just want to be there to pick up the pieces."

                "I didn't want to see him hurt at all, but I know that's all you are going to do to him.  You would have to involve an innocent person in your little game of revenge."

                "You really are a conceited prick, aren't you?  I couldn't possibly just actually like him."

                "No, you can't like him.  You are just a heartless ass good at talking his way out of everything."

                Douglas inclined his head slightly.  "You know what surprises me?  You obviously haven't told him your lies yet.  Or did you and he not believe you either?"

                Nathaniel's face flushed red.  "No, I didn't tell him.  I figured your true colors would show through soon enough, but your silver-tongued devilry has already started taking hold it seems."

                Douglas chuckled again, "You know, I may have some competition in that department.  Anders is proving quite skillful with his own tongue."

                Nathaniel's fists clenched in rage, "Well, I hoped you enjoyed it, because it won't last.  I will prove one day you killed Lilley and it will be a good thing you like men when you are somebody's pretty little bitch in prison."

                "I didn't kill your partner."  The declaration was calm and flat.

                "You can't lie to me.  You were there and so was the evidence."  The response was more heated and frustrated.

                "I may be a lot of things, Mr. Howe, but stupid isn't one of them.  Do you honestly expect if I killed someone to allow you to find me standing over the semi-cold body?"

                "Yes, you obviously are that stupid."

                "And yet here I sit, free as a lark.  Why is that?"

                "I don't know.  Screwed Cullen?  That's probably why you sent your sister away, so you could have him all to yourself."

                Douglas felt his eye twitch with that one, indicating he needed to end this now.  "Well, Mr. Howe, it seems we may be at an impasse."  Douglas leaned forward slightly with his arms still on the rests.  "I'll tell you what; I'll continue to see Anders until you get me thrown in prison, and then I will send letters telling you all about our conjugal visits."

                Nathaniel advanced quickly across the room toward Douglas.

                "Are there any good seats left?"  Isabela's voice stopped him in his tracks, the woman having slipped in mid-conversation unbeknownst to the ex-cop.

                He looked at both of them, obviously now not liking his odds and with one last 'I'm going to kill you' glare toward Douglas, he left the room.

                Isabela followed him out, returning quickly once the man was completely gone.  She flipped the daggers she was holding hidden against her forearms and Douglas placed the pistol he had concealed on the desk with a relieved sigh.  She raised an eyebrow at him, "Conjugal visits?"

                "A man can dream, can't he?"

                She shook her head at him.  "Something else he isn't going to find out about?"

                "No.  If he found out we'd have another body on our hands pointing directly at me."

                The two grabbed their stuff and went back to the estate after that, an unusual silence between them.  Douglas was lost in his thoughts, one hundred percent certain Anders would find out about Lilley now.  Nathaniel was right; it had been good while it lasted.  Maybe he should end it before he got further entangled; before he got his heart broken again.

                The car rounded the circle from the wooded drive, stopping in front of the arched, wooden double-doors of the tan brick mansion, the biggest house in the area.  The sun shone on the many spotless windows, glittering cheerily back at him beneath the eaves of the blue tiled roof.

                They went inside, Bodahn, the head butler, greeted them as customary when he opened the door after the gate called ahead, and Douglas grumbled back.  When Fenris met them in the main hall, Douglas told him, "I hope you enjoyed your day off; it will probably be your last one for a while."

                "We went surfing.  Why, what happened?"

                Before an answer was given, another question was posed.  "What the hell was that about?"  A deeply tanned man in a black wife beater, ripped jeans and bare feet demanded as he stalked down the stairs.  He was well muscled without being overly bulky and slightly sweaty, most likely coming from the gym upstairs but his short, wild, silvery-white hair looked more like he had just rolled out of bed.

                At the tone of the man's voice, Isabela and Fenris beat a hasty retreat, leaving the two men alone.  Douglas walked over to the entry table, internally cursing the cowards but outwardly riffling through the letters before responding with an indifferent, "What?"

                The man stopped a few feet from Douglas.  "You know damn well what I am talking about!"

                Douglas set the letters back down, turning to the other with a shrug.  "I had an unexpected visitor."

                "Who?"

                "It doesn't matter."

                A 4 inch scar across the other man’s right cheek started ticking in agitation.  "It matters when you hang up on me."

                Douglas smirked.  "I think you are getting a little too used to people jumping at your every whim."

                "And I think those expensive ties are cutting off the blood to your head."

                "Don't mistake my love for you as free reign to treat me like your bitch, I won't ask how high when you say jump."

                "And my love for you is the only reason you aren't an unrecognizable bloody stain on this floor."

                "You wouldn't do that, just think how much it would cost to replace this imported white marble."

                The man narrowed his eyes, growling back, "Some things are worth the cost."

                "Well, this has been enlightening as always, but I need to go change.  I have another appointment."  Douglas brushed past the man, heading for the stairs.  He had almost made it to the first step when he turned to catch a small statuette flying at his head.  He looked over the small hawk in his hand, checking it for any damage before sitting it down on a table next to the stairs and wordlessly continuing his ascent, knowing his lack of response would only piss the other man off more.

                Douglas went to the bedroom, shutting the door audibly without slamming it as the man below growled in rage and stormed after the two who had also done a disappearing act to try and get answers.  Douglas changed out of his suit, opting for a pair of designer straight-legged jeans, a pale blue polo shirt with a small embroidered hawk on the left and black shoes, transferring his wallet and cellphone to his current clothing and hanging up his previous attire to be dry cleaned with the shoes orderly underneath to be shined.

                Douglas grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and took the back staircase to the kitchen, wanting to avoid any further conflicts for the day.  The large kitchen was sparkling, the industrial stainless appliances, dark wood of the cabinets and granite counters perfectly maintained by Orana, the cook.

                Douglas smiled at the woman.  "Do you have the food I asked for this morning?"

                "Yes, sir," she turned and pointed toward a basket at the end of the counter.

                Douglas walked over, kissing the tiny blond woman on the cheek.  "Our secret right?"

                "Of course, sir."

                "Thanks."  He smiled at her before picking up the basket, walking through the back of the house to the garage and snatching keys off the hook.  He headed to his red Italian sports car and climbed in, quickly speeding away from the estate, hopefully unnoticed.

                Douglas sped across town, the tires screeching to a halt in front of Anders' house.  With one last check of his black hair, he got out and bounded up the path to knock on the door. 

                Anders answered, looking him over appreciatively, "Okay, do you ever not look good?"

                "Not if I can help it," Douglas said with a smirk, pulling the blonde in and kissing him deeply.  He broke away with a large happy smile.  "Ready to go?"

                "Yes." 

                They walked hand and hand to the car, and Douglas opened the door for Anders as the blonde studied it with surprise.  "How many vehicles do you own?"

                "Personally?  Just this one and the motorcycle.  The others are more for the estate."

                "Estate?"

                Douglas blinked at the slip, before giving a large smile.  "Just a fancy word for a rich person's house."

                "Are you are trying to impress me, Mr. Hawke?"

                "No!"

                Anders laughed at the exclamation.  "I was just teasing.  I'm sure it seems clear by now, money is not my thing."

                Douglas nodded as the other man climbed in.  It was pretty clear, not only did Anders work for free at a job he could be paid really well at; Hawke knew Howe came from some money also.  The thought had never occurred to impress Anders with the car; he liked it, so he bought it.  His one big splurge to himself when he had his own money to spend instead of save. 

                Settling back behind the wheel, he gave the still grinning man a wink before starting his baby's engine back up.  Douglas took his time, chatting easily and driving toward a secluded place near the edge of the woods.  The weather was nice for early March and recently dry.  He grabbed the blanket and basket, spreading them on the ground in the deep shade of the trees, pulling Anders down with a smirk.

                He pushed the blonde on to his back, looking into the amber eyes and tracing a finger along the angular jaw.  Douglas looked at him for a long time before asking, "Do you ever not look good?"

                "Sweetheart, I think you need your eyes checked."

                "Or you need to check a mirror more often."  There was a small pause, and Douglas raised an eyebrow.  "Wait, are you suggesting something is wrong with my eyes?"

                Anders gave him a lopsided grin, "No, they are nearly the most beautiful thing about you."

                "Nearly?"

                Anders nodded, "Nearly," and pulled Douglas down for a kiss.

                They kissed each other breathless, Douglas leaning into the man below him, one arm braced on the opposite side as Anders' hands ran across his back.  Douglas felt a light tug on his shirt, and he broke away, smiling at the other man before pushing himself back up into a seated position, placing Anders' head into his lap.  Douglas pulled out the ponytail holder and started running his fingers through the blond hair.  "So, tell me about your family."

                Anders answered quietly, "I don't have any to speak of."

                Douglas' brow furrowed.  "None?"

                "No, I was told my parents died when I was very young, I was passed around foster homes until my mid-teens..." the blonde shrugged like it didn't matter.

                "Why were you passed around?"  Douglas couldn't believe this sweet man being a product of such a system.

                Anders shrugged again, "Most of the families were just out for the money involved, so I picked up a habit of running away."  He gave a lopsided grin.

                "I didn't know fostering children to be so lucrative.  Did no one ever want to make the arrangement permanent?"

                Anders swallowed thickly, looking down at the hands lying across his chest.  "At first, but I was never quite what they had expected or maybe hoped for in a son."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Do I look the jock type to you?  And it was Tennessee, in the early 80s.  Men wanted their manly sons, and it didn't take too long for them to figure out I clearly wasn't it.  I never got past the try out phase.  So, I got older and no one wants an older kid, there has to be somethin' wrong with ya they figure, then ya go to makin' the rounds in foster homes.  Free money from the government and free work force as yer 'kids' to boot."  The accent drawled thicker as Anders got clearly more upset at the non-fond memories.

                Douglas blinked, and blinked again, speechless for the first time in a very long time, wanting to press because surely that could not be completely accurate, how could people do that to a child.  But Anders was clearly pained, so he scrambled for something else.  "Wait, if you don't have any family and you work for basically free, how did you or do you pay for your medical degree?"

                The hurt expression softened, much to Douglas' great relief.  "One time, when I ran away, I ended up gettin' hurt pretty bad, and I was found by this old country doctor.  He fixed me up, no questions asked, and then to pay him pack for his hospitality and help, I worked in his clinic without him ever asking for a thing.  Eventually, the cops caught up with me though and tried to take me back, but he offered to adopt me with my blessing.  I agreed, and continued working and living with him.  I enjoyed it and I guess he thought I had potential and paid for my schooling."

                "So, where is he?"

                "He passed away while I was at med school."

                "I'm sorry," Douglas said, frowning slightly.  "Didn't you have bills after?"

                "No, he made sure it was all paid for."

                "That's amazing."  Douglas ran his hand through the soft, blond hair, smiling at the man in his lap, "I'd bet he'd be proud."

                All the unpleasantness left as Anders beamed back.  "What about you?"

                "My younger sister, Bethany, is off at medical school and I have an uncle here in Kirkwall..."

                "Another doctor in your life?  And I thought I was special."

                "You are," another smile.  "I will admit though, I am a little excited, she should be back home soon.  Next year is her last."

                "What about your parents?"

                "My father died about twelve years ago and my mother a little over three now."

                "I'm sorry."

                "You're feeling sorry for me?"  Douglas shook his head in amazement. 

                Anders studied the man above him for a few moments before he sat up and straddled Douglas' lap, looking him directly in the eye.  "I'll make you a deal; you don't feel sorry for me and I won't feel sorry for you."

                A small smile brushed Hawke's lips.  "Deal."

                The second pair of lips lowered into a kiss and then hands started roaming across each other.  Douglas' breath caught when the other man's lips moved to his neck and teeth gently grazed the sensitive skin.  Fingers reactively pressed into Anders' back and the blonde's hips responded, rubbing forward against the ones below, inducing a groan from Hawke.  Anders tugged at the blue shirt again.  When a hand snaked underneath and brushed across a bare back, Douglas snapped to his senses and swallowed nervously, asking, "Are you hungry?"

                The lips moved linearly to his ear, leaving a trailing of moist kisses in their wake.  Anders' breath caressed his answer, "Absolutely," before running his tongue along the lobe, causing Douglas to shiver as his brain started to melt.

                Hawke blurted out, "Good, because I missed breakfast."  Douglas knew that wasn't what Anders meant and the blonde pulled away with a raised eyebrow.  Douglas slapped a smile on his face.  "The cook prepared us a special picnic.  We wouldn't want it to get too cold."  Another nervous swallow followed the statement.

                Anders still looked very confused, but moved off of Douglas who fought off a sigh of relief before digging around in the basket for two glasses and pouring the white wine, handing one of them to Anders.  The food was spread out between them, fruit, cheese and crackers, grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, salad and fresh biscuits.  "I hope this is okay."

                "Sure," Anders sounded slightly upset.

                Douglas handed him a plate and after serving themselves, they ate in an uncomfortable silence for a long time.  Finally having enough, Hawke set his plate down and moved over next to the blonde, grabbing the plate and putting it down before clasping the doctor's hands.  "Anders, I..."

                Douglas was about to spill his guts and explain everything to the man when his phone started ringing.  Hawke grimaced at forgetting to turn it off before picking Anders up, and after releasing the hands in his, fished it out his pocket.  "Hello?" Douglas answered grumpily.

                "Where the hell are you?"  Fenris growled back.

                "I'm fine, don't worry about it."

                "That was not the question, Isabela told me what happened!"

                Douglas looked at Anders before standing up and walking away, "I had an appointment.  ...  No, if I wanted you to shadow me, I would have told you about it.  ...  You wouldn't dare tell him.  ...  Fine, from now on, I'll tell you where I'm going.  ...  No, not this time; I'll be back later."  Douglas hung up the phone, making sure to switch it off this time then turned back to Anders.  "Blasted Fenris."

                Anders chuckled off the strange conversation.  "You know, I am still a bit surprised he's your bodyguard."

                "Just do me a large favor and don't test the theory."

                "I wouldn't dream of it.  Although, I do get the sense he's not just a bodyguard."

                Douglas smiled, sitting back down across from him.  "We were friends first.  We've known each other for quite a while, over eleven years now."

                This time they talked while they finished eating, and Douglas repacked the basket.  He pulled Anders' head back into his lap so they could chat and they stayed that way, Douglas idly running his hand through blond hair until the sun started to set.

                Douglas looked at his ever present, but necessary, watch and sighed when he discovered he only had two hours until his next meeting; barely enough time to drop Anders off and go home to change.  He gave a disappointed smile.  "I'm going to have to go."

                The ride back was tinged with disappointments of differing varieties and when they got back to Anders' house, Douglas gave him a long kiss; agreeing to lunch in a couple of days.

                Once safely back in the car, Douglas pulled out his cellphone and turned it back on, dialing the estate.  "Bodahn, have the car ready to leave when I get there and make sure Fenris is ready also.  …  Thanks."  He sped off through town, hoping he wouldn't be late.  He was never late.