Nathaniel Howe

"Pranks? Fun pranks, or revenge pranks?" Between the crackling of the fire and the sound of rain and thunder and the warmth of the blankets and of each other, Nathaniel is feeling a fuzzy contentment, a sleepiness that doesn't compel sleep so much as stasis. He could spend hours like this. At the rate the rain is going, he probably will. He tucks Anders' head beneath his chin and cuddles closer.