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Let It All Go - 30_hugs prompt

Title: Let It All Go
Fandom: Dragon Age Origins: Awakening
Theme: #13; euthanasia
Characters and Relationship: Nathaniel Howe/Moira Cousland, eventually romantic
Rating: G
Summary: Many things come to light upon hearing that his sister is alive.


“I’ve been meaning to give these to you.”

Nathaniel looked down at the bundle of papers Moira held in her hands. “What are they?”

“I found these when we were searching the cellars,” she explained. “I forgot about them, but I finally had a chance to look closer at them today. They’re letters from your sister.”

“Delilah? What did they say?” He took them from her, already unfolding the first one.

“I don’t know. As soon as I recognized who the handwriting belonged to, I stopped reading.” She and Delilah had been pen-acquaintances for years. Once she had seen the delicate way that the D looped in the word Dear, she’d known who the author was. “I thought that you might want to have them.”

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, tucking the letters away in his bag. “I shall read them thoroughly once we get back from today’s errands.”

“I certainly hope we can find Kristoff. Varel suggested looking in any inns.”

Nathaniel rubbed his chin with his hand. “I’d start at the Crown and Lion. It’s one of the more popular inns in Amaranthine. There are one or two others, but they’re tiny and out of the way; not something that someone unfamiliar with the area would initially pick.”

“You taking anyone else with you?” Oghren asked, looking up from the whetstone he was sharpening his axe with.

Anders put up his hand. “Oooh! Pick me! Pick me!” Ser Pounce-a-Lot mewed from his perch on Anders’ shoulder, upset that his nap had been interrupted.

Moira laughed. “I don’t think this investigation warrants more than two people,” she said. “Think of this as a day off.”

“I can live with that,” Oghren said, testing the edge of his axe with his thumb.

“It would give us a chance to get better acquainted,” Anders reasoned, sidling up to Velanna.

She arched her eyebrow at him. “Come any closer and you’ll regret it.” There was a crackle of electricity around her and the throne room was filled with the scent of ozone, like the air before a storm.

Anders backed up a step, his hands out in front of him, even as he winked at Velanna. “Pretty and deadly. I don’t know if I should be cautious or intrigued.”

Moira grinned and shook her head. “Just stay out of trouble. We’ll be back before nightfall.” She and Nathaniel were walking into the courtyard when Moira remembered that she had a few ore samples to give to Herren. She also wanted to report a sizeable granite deposit in the Wending Wood to Voldrik, hoping that it would add to the Keep repairs he had been contracted to do. Nathaniel hung back while she concluded her business, but someone nearby caught his eye.

“Samuel? Groundskeeper Samuel? Is that you?” He walked towards the older elf, not believing his eyes. “I’m so glad that you’ve stayed on,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Nathaniel? Why it is little Nate! I’d know that face anywhere. It’s so good to see you back, my lord.” Samuel took hold of Nathaniel’s hand in both of his.

“Please, just Nathaniel will do. I no longer have any rank.”

Samuel smiled as he shook his head. “Old habits will die hard.”

“Have you heard anything of Thomas and Delilah?” he asked. “I’ve been away for so long that I haven’t been able to find any definite information.” He had been putting off thinking about his brother and sister, focusing his anger on the fact that his family name had been disgraced instead. It had been the safer route at the time, but now he knew that he had to know exactly what his younger siblings’ fates were.

“Lord Thomas died in the war,” Samuel said. “They found him in Denerim.”

Nathaniel’s heart plummeted. “I was afraid of that. Do you know how?” In his heart of hearts, Nathaniel knew that his brother and sister had very little chance of surviving, especially after the way that people spat on the Howe name. If darkspawn hadn’t gotten them, then angry mobs might have.

Samuel shrugged. “No, but I do know that our new Arlessa personally saw to his burial. She called him a good and honorable man in her eulogy for him.”

“Moira knew?” He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Moira had known about Thomas’ death but had failed to inform him. It’s not like you would have given her any opening, he argued. What did you expect her to do, say “Remember your brother? He’s dead, Nate.”

“But Lady Delilah…she’s still alive.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “Alive? Where?”

Samuel shrugged. “The last we heard of her, she had married a storekeeper in Amaranthine.” He shook his head in pity. “Poor girl. She deserves better.”

“Thank you for your information,” Nathaniel said, grasping the elf’s hand again. “You don’t know how much this news puts my mind at ease.”

“Is everything all right?” Moira asked once Nathaniel came back to her. His expression was unreadable; he looked to be sad about something while being elated at another.

“Everything is all right,” he replied, his smile going from one ear to the other. “I just found out that my sister is alive.”

Moira put a hand on his arm. “That’s wonderful news! Where is she?”

“She supposedly married a shop owner in Amaranthine.”

I have a sister in Denerim, Moira couldn’t help but think of Alistair and Goldanna. Do you think that we could visit her? Do you think she’ll like me? Maker, I’m nervous. She shook herself out of the sudden flashback in time to see Nathaniel looking at her expectantly. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” she inquired.

“I said, would you think it would be possible to make a side trip and see where she is? I mean, we’re going to be in Amaranthine already.”

“Of course we can.” The two of them headed past the main gates and started down the path towards the city. Nathaniel took the lead, breaking his habit of trailing several steps behind to act as a rear guard. Moira didn’t mind; if their roles had been reversed, she was certain that she would have already been running down the road as fast as her legs could carry her. Nathaniel was more restrained, but as it was, Moira had to lengthen her stride to keep up with him.

They were halfway to the city when Nathaniel slowed his pace. “Why didn’t you tell me that my brother was dead?”

The question threw Moira for a loop. “I thought that you knew,” she told him, biting her lip. “If I had known that you were unaware, I would have said something.”

“Samuel said that he died in Denerim.”

“He did.”

“He also said that you gave Thomas’ eulogy.”

“Yes, that’s true. He’s buried in your family mausoleum, if you ever want to pay your respects.” She looked at him. “Your father is there as well.”

Nathaniel stopped walking. “Why?” He turned towards her. “If my father did what you said he did, then why show him such mercy?”

She took a breath. “Because Rendon could have put my father’s head on a pike and left his body to rot for the crows when he attacked my home, but he didn’t. No matter what he did to us, he deserved the same courtesy in death.” Fergus had been against her wishes, wanting to burn Howe’s body and leave the charred skeleton by the roadside, but Moira had argued against it. Alistair had taken her side and there had been a small, private funeral for both deceased Howes consisting of Moira, Alistair, Varel and Garavel. Rendon’s had been short; no words had been said over him besides the basic funeral rites, but Moira had spoken kindly of Thomas.

Nathaniel bowed his head. “Do you know how Thomas died?”

She nodded. “He died saving my life. He put himself in front of an Emissary’s blast that would have hit me instead.” She clasped her hands, wanting to do something to comfort Nathaniel. “We tried to save him, but his injuries were too severe.” She could remember the heat from the burning buildings, the way that sweat had made tracks across Thomas’ soot stained face as he stared up at her.

“I want to thank you, for saying something about Thomas. For calling him a good man.”

“I knew Thomas since he was born. He was a good man.” She reached out and lightly touched his arm. “He had a good role model.”

“And who would that be?”

“You.” She looked up at him and saw that some of the pain in his eyes had disappeared. She didn’t have anything else left to say, so she turned and continued on the road towards town. Nathaniel stood and stared at her back there in the middle of the road for a little while before joining her.

***

“That’s her,” Nathaniel said quietly when they reached the market district. He gestured at the woman who had her back to them. “We passed that shop at least three times; how did I miss her?”

“Perhaps she’s been away and has only just come back,” Moira suggested. “Or maybe she was inside. There aren’t any windows facing this side of the street.” The last time they had been down this alley, they had been fighting smugglers. No one in their right mind would have stepped outside in the middle of a knife fight.

“She looks so thin.” Nathaniel twisted the gold ring on his left index finger in a rare display of nerves. “Will she even recognize me, after so long?”

Moira put a hand on his shoulder as a show of support. “Why don’t you find out?”

His eyebrow quirked. “You aren’t coming along?”

She shook her head. “No.” He was going to ask her something, but she interrupted him. “This is something personal for you. My being there might put a damper on your reunion.” She didn’t know what Delilah thought of her, and she was not looking forward to two Howes joining forces in blaming her for their family’s misfortune. “Please, take your time. I’ll be waiting in the Crown and Lion.” She turned to leave, but stopped when she felt a tug on her hand.

“Thank you,” he told her, his face sincere. “Just being able to see her again, to know that she’s alive, means so much to me.”

She gave his fingers a brief squeeze before stepping away. “Good luck then.” She watched as he walked away, his hands slicking his hair back away from his face. She continued to watch as he called out to his sister, who turned and recognized him instantly. It was only when she saw the two siblings embrace that she left, letting them have their privacy.

Moira decided to spend the time alone in Amaranthine wandering the streets. Luckily no one knew her on sight besides the city guards. She had been pleased with the discovery; it had been far too long since she had traveled unnoticed. The layout of the city was sprawling, but not so much different from Highever. Dressmaker shops were next to the shoe shops, vendors selling protective gear were flanked by weapon stands. There were bakeries, eateries, and other small shops along the way. The Chantry took up a large portion of the eastern side and it seemed as if there were tons of tall buildings acting as housing for the city’s population. It wasn’t as bustling as she remembered it being several years ago, but she figured that had to do with the effects of the Blight.

Stealth allowed her to eavesdrop on several conversations, giving her an entry point to butt in and ask everyone she met about Kristoff’s whereabouts. For good measure, she even inquired about the Dark Wolf, but unfortunately got nowhere on that end. It was upsetting, because she had hoped to get the nasty little detail of someone trying to assassinate her cleaned up as quickly as possible. She hadn’t wanted to believe Ser Tamara when she had warned her several days ago, but the fact that the woman had precious little to gain from supplying Moira with false information, not to mention Moira’s own gut instincts, had led her to believe the accusations. Moira had spoken with Varel after the nobles had left, but she hadn’t liked his suggestion of having several of their guards trail after each of their guests to see what they might be planning. Moira had always liked doing her own dirty work, even if it meant that she would more than likely be spending a great amount of money gathering resources.

Entering the Crown and Lion, the innkeeper confirmed that the missing Warden had indeed been staying there and that his room was paid up until the end of the month. Moira had easily charmed the spare room key from his hands by saying she was a friend of Kristoff’s and made her way upstairs. The room was tidy, but looked as if no one had been there for quite some time. Three chests were sitting in plain view. Moira pulled her well used set of lock picks out of the pouch hanging from her belt, opening each chest and sifting through the contents, hoping to find a hint about where Kristoff might have gone. The only things she found were some of the Warden’s mementos, his journal, and a letter from a woman named Aura, whom from the content of the letter, Moira surmised was Kristoff’s wife. She put all three of her findings into her pack and was about to head back down to the common room when something tacked onto the wall drew her attention.

“Where were you going?” she wondered, staring at the map of Ferelden. There were areas marked out on the map and notes written in Orlesian along the sides, but what really got her attention was the bold circle around an area of Amaranthine called the Blackmarsh. Tapping her finger against the circled area, she pulled the map down, rolling it up and sticking it in her pack as well.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the innkeeper asked when Moira handed him back the spare key.

“I think so,” she replied, pulling out several silver pieces from her money bag. “Are you the man to go to for a drink?”

He pocketed the money. “Aye, that I am.” He went over to a battered looking bar and took down a cup from a rack. “Will it be ale or wine or something stronger?”

“Wine, please.” She had a strong aversion to ale after the night Oghren had talked her, Zevran and Alistair into a drinking contest. As usual, Oghren had won, and the only thing Moira had gotten out of the contest was a quick buzz and a foul taste in her mouth. She had quit the contest after only one tankard.

“So, are you traveling through or staying for a while, Stranger?”

Moira thanked him and took a sip, happy to find that the house wine was a rather pleasant tasting merlot – the distinctive tart flavor of cherries and plums hit her tongue and left a slight trace of black pepper in the background. “I’m thinking of staying for a while,” she replied.

“By the looks of the weapons on your back, I’d say you’re quite the scrapper. Might want to try your luck getting in with the guards stationed at Vigil’s Keep. I hear their numbers are pretty scarce.”

Moira smiled into her cup. “I might try that. Thank you for the tip.”

“The new Arlessa’s supposed to be an all right sort. Hero of Ferelden and all.” The innkeeper wiped down the bar and leaned forward. “Killed the Archdemon with her bare hands, she did.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t say.”

“I do say. I also say that if she wants to get in good with the people here, then she might want to start hiring some of the young lads and lasses to get that rusty pile of a Keep running properly, like it used to. Would go a long way to getting everyone to like her if she used local help instead of bringing in others.”

“What else do you know about her?” she asked, curious to see what the local gossips had to say about her already. Her father had taught her long ago that if one really wanted to put their finger on the pulse of a kingdom, teyrnir, or arling, all one had to do was ask the common folk what they thought of their respective ruler. Bryce Cousland had been well respected and loved by the people of Highever, not because he had ruled with an iron fist, but because he had taken the time to see that everyone under his care fared well. She and her brother had been taught from an early age how to properly run a teyrnir and even though she had fought Alistair when he had given her the arling to rule, she was determined to make her father proud.

“Not much to say, really. She’s still new and all, but her brother’s the Teyrn of Highever. Good sort of fellow, Teyrn Cousland is. He takes good care of his people much like his father did. I just hope his sister is the same.”

Moira thanked the innkeeper for her drink again and walked over to a table near the corner. Keeping her back to the wall and digging Kristoff’s journal out of her bag, she settled in to wait until Nathaniel came to collect her. She had been telling the truth when she told him that the meeting between him and his sister should be a private one. She thought back to the moment she had laid eyes on Fergus for the first time since the Blight had ended. They had been in the Landsmeet chamber, and she would have preferred that she hadn’t have had an audience full of strangers watching as she launched herself at her older sibling, both of them crying and laughing all at once and talking a mile a minute to make up for lost time. In the end, she hadn’t really cared that anyone had witnessed their reunion, but she still would have liked a more private experience. Slouching in her chair, she tried to make out the writing in the journal. While she might be able to understand Antivan as well as a native thanks to her sister-in-law’s tutoring, her grasp on Orlesian was minimal at best. She only knew a few phrases that would have gotten her through a conversation with polite company, and she could barely make out every other word she read in Kristoff’s notes. It was frustrating, but at least attempting to translate portions of the journal gave her something to do with her time.

She didn’t have to wait long. Nathaniel stepped through the inn’s door a little over an hour and a half later, looking pleased with himself. “How did it go?” she asked, judging by his smile that the reunion had gone well.

“She wants me to come back, to meet her husband,” he said, sounding overwhelmed. “She’s due in the spring.”

“That’s fantastic news! You’re going to be an uncle.”

“It’s a little much to take in all at once,” he admitted, watching as Moira put a book back into her satchel. “We had many things to discuss.”

“Are you certain that you’re ready to go?” she asked. “We can always return to the Keep later on.”

“No, you told everyone that we’d be back before nightfall. I hadn’t realized just how late it was getting.” He held the inn’s door open for her. “Delilah would love to see you again, Moira. She misses you dearly.”

“I…” Moira put a hand to her throat. “I’d like that. Maybe I’ll go with you when you see her again.”

“I’d like that as well.” Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “Did you happen to find anything about Kristoff?”

“I did. I have everything in my pack; we’ll share it with the rest once we get back to the Keep.”

“And anything about this Dark Wolf we’re supposed to get to spy for you?” Nathaniel didn’t like that option, thinking that it would have been better to have someone else less…shadier find information for them about the people conspiring to kill Moira. He also found that idea quite unsettling, even though Moira blew it off as if it weren’t an important matter.

“Unfortunately, no, I didn’t. We’re going to have to come back later to see if this person is actually here in Amaranthine at all.”

“Perhaps we could show up with Oghren next time,” Nathaniel said. “Despite him being the smelliest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming across, he does tend to have an air of intimidation about him. Maybe his presence would get better results.”

Moira laughed. “I think you might be right.”

The remainder of the trip back to the Keep was spent in a slightly tense silence. Moira stole glances at Nathaniel’s profile as they walked, noting how his jaw tightened and his hands flexed into fists. For all the positive things it seemed he got out of his meeting with his sister, he was exceptionally deep in thought. Even as they rejoined the rest of their party and Moira shared what she learned, she couldn’t help but notice how he kept to the corner of the room, saying nothing and looking distracted the entire time. Plans were made to visit the Blackmarsh the next day, Anders requesting that they first stop back in Amaranthine to upgrade the magical equipment he used that none of the merchants at the Keep kept in supply.

“Is everything all right?” Moira asked, once everything was settled and everyone else left the throne room for the evening. “You’ve been awfully quiet ever since we left the city.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Yes.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stem a headache. “No. Can we speak in private?”

“Of course.” She gestured towards the door leading to her study, but he shook his head. Without thinking, he held onto her hand and guided her down one of the side halls. She was beginning to wonder where he was taking her when they stopped at an informal parlor, the large windows overlooking the Amaranthine Ocean out in the distance. Moira had a memory of the two of them sneaking away to this very room from some party or another his parents had hosted once. No one had thought to look for them and they had spent the evening curled up together on the window seat sharing tentative kisses and whispered promises of young love.

“I owe you an apology,” Nathaniel started, looking down and twisting the ring on his finger again.

She figured it must have had something to do with something Delilah had told him. “No you don’t. Its fine,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back.

He frowned at her. “Yes, I do. And no, it is not fine. Delilah…she said that Father,” he swallowed hard and tried to collect his thoughts. “She said that Father deserved to die, that everything that had happened to our family was because of his actions. She told me everything; how his political ambition had blinded him, how his need for power had led him to do terrible things to people.” He stared at her and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. “How it had led him to betray those that had trusted him the most.”

“Nathaniel…” She held her hands out to him, wanting to do something for him, especially when she saw how hard of a time he had dealing with the information his sister had given him.

He stepped out of her reach. “No. I…” He raked his hands through his hair and ran them down his face. “Instead of looking deeper, I was petty and acted like a child would when someone told them that the hero they had worshiped for years was actually a criminal. I thought he had his reasons for doing the things he did; we were at war, for Andraste’s sake. How could he have changed so much over the years?”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Moira told him.

“But what if it is?” he asked. “I didn’t have much of a choice, but what if I had never left in the first place? I could have talked some sense into Father. I could have…” Nathaniel held onto her upper arms, his hands squeezing almost to the point of pain. “I could have stopped him from murdering your family. And how could I have ever thought your father would have betrayed his country? Bryce was a man I looked up to and admired. To instantly believe the worst…Can you ever forgive me, Moira?”

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. He let out a shaky breath, his arms going about her waist, holding tight as if he feared she’d slip through his fingers. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she breathed, her lips near his ear.

“I’ve treated you with such contempt. I feel like a fool.” He turned his head so that his nose brushed against hers. “Why haven’t you screamed for vengeance? How could you be so forgiving of his crimes?”

Moira stepped away and walked towards the window. The last of the day’s sun made the sky outside a soft lavender color that was quickly bleeding to the dark blues of twilight. “I’ve already gone that way, Nathaniel,” she said quietly, her arms wrapping around herself. “It wasn’t a pleasant choice. Anger and a need for revenge were what kept me going most days, as did the thought that once I brought your father to justice, I’d feel some sort of peace, that I could finally let my parents’ memory rest.”

He watched her from where he stood. Her body language told him that she didn’t want anyone close at the moment. “I take it that you didn’t.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” Her mind went back to the dungeons. She could remember that while fighting Rendon, the scent of burning wood had assaulted her nose while the shouts and cries of her dying guards rang in her ears. Her parent’s parting words had echoed in her head, even as her blades clashed with Howe’s axe. She had seen the expression on Ser Gilmore’s face that last time in her mind’s eye; the grim set of his mouth telling her that he knew he would die long before the sun came up. With the arl’s final breath, all the voices suddenly went silent, leaving her trying to catch her breath while she clutched at her side, her blood dripping from between her fingers. “Instead of feeling peace, I felt empty. There was no sense that I had avenged anyone at all.” Her father had asked her before she left him to die in the larder to not let Rendon destroy her spirit, to not let a need for vengeance poison her. It was only when she was sitting in Fort Drakon with Rendon’s blood staining her hands that she realized just how close she had been to losing herself to her rage.

“How,” Nathaniel closed his eyes tightly, his hands fisting at his side. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the next question, but he had to know. “How did he die? Was it painful, or did you finish him quickly?”

Moira turned to him. “I won’t lie to you. He didn’t die quickly, but I didn’t draw his death out either. I’ve never had the stomach to cause unnecessary suffering, and your father was no exception.” At her side, her right hand curled around an imaginary sword hilt as she remembered the way her family’s blade had gone through the front of Rendon’s armor and out his back, how she had to yank at the sword to slide it out of his body. “He lived long enough to curse at me one last time.”

“He caused so much hardship,” Nathaniel said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “And now it seems as if the last of the Howes are better off without him. It’s difficult to wrap my mind around it all.”

She leaned against him, her forehead resting against his shoulder. “Take your time.” Her hands splayed over his back and her breath hitched at the familiar feel of his arms around her again. Now that everything was out in the open, she thought that the healing process could truly begin, not just for her, but for him as well.

“There had been a good side to him once,” Nathaniel murmured, his cheek against her hair. “It still doesn’t excuse his actions, but I guess that was the side of him that I had looked up to, the side that I thought he still possessed. How could I have read everything so wrong? I feel horrible for the way that I’ve been treating you. And here you’ve been nothing but gracious and,” he slid his hands down until he was able to grasp hers. “And something of a friend to me, even while I was acting like an ass. Or am I reading that wrong as well?”

She stared down at their joined hands. “No, I would like to… I do consider you a friend.” She looked up at him and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “And I would hope that you could consider me one as well.”

He let out a breath. “Good.” Then he looked at her in a way that made her stomach flip and her heart beat faster. “Good,” he said softly, his thumbs running over her knuckles. “So, where does this leave us now?”

She shrugged. “Wherever we wish to be.” Secretly, she held onto the hope that he would want to rekindle their past relationship, but realistically she knew that it was a poor time to do so.

He looked at her and felt the tiniest flare of hope. “It’s been a long time since I last wrote you,” he said, leading her towards the window seat.

“Two years,” she agreed, sitting down with him.

“That’s an awful lot of ground to go over, but tell me, what have you been doing?”

She gave a watery laugh and blinked several times to clear her blurred vision. Here was the Nathaniel she had known. Maker, how I’ve missed you, Nate. Leaning against his side, she spread her hands. “Well, I guess I should probably start at Ostagar. As a friend once put it, the one good thing about the Blight was how it brought people together.” She dove into her tale and Nathaniel listened raptly, draping his arm over her shoulder, his fingers playing with the strands of her hair. Here was the Moira he had left behind. A feeling of contentedness washed over him and he couldn’t help but think that of all the things that his father had stolen - from the Couslands as well as his own family - Nathaniel was grateful that he had been able to regain this.

He gave Moira’s shoulder a squeeze. Out of all the treasures in Vigil’s Keep, this moment and what it represented was the most priceless of them all.

Comments

( 7 comments — Leave a comment )
auds1978
May. 30th, 2010 07:29 am (UTC)
So I got behind in my fan fiction and just read like 7 of your hug prompts all in a row and wow. Love where this story is going, wish you could talk to Nate in the game
iceprincessd
May. 31st, 2010 01:59 am (UTC)
Thank you. :) I wish you could talk to him in the game as well - I keep on interacting with him, knowing that I'm not going to get anything besides "we should move on" but still. And of course, I think I speak for a lot of people when I wish that we could romance him.
auds1978
May. 31st, 2010 04:00 am (UTC)
I would replay and not romance anyone during the game so I could romance Nathaniel in awakenings;) I hope if the continue dragon age two with the same characters that he become a romantic option. Sort of like Mass effect when you get no love interests.
ssrobajo
Jun. 1st, 2010 01:07 pm (UTC)
Love this. Well done!
iceprincessd
Jun. 3rd, 2010 02:26 am (UTC)
Thank you!
phoenixblaze
Aug. 1st, 2010 12:59 am (UTC)
Oh my god I think this is my favorite so far. XD

Totally wanted them to kiss right there.
iceprincessd
Aug. 1st, 2010 06:39 am (UTC)
:D

But if they kissed, where would all the UST go?
( 7 comments — Leave a comment )

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