Carver yawned surreptitiously as he made sure the front gate was locked and the alarm set. He might have landed his dream job, as a security guard at the sprawling estate owned by his teenage idol, but the night shift was still kind of hard to get through.

And anyway, he mused as he started his first round of the gardens, it wasn't as if he'd caught more than a glance at her from afar in the three months since he'd begun working here. Meg Cousland rarely ventured out into the gardens, all too aware of the paparazzi lurking everywhere, equipped with helicopters and high-powered telephoto lenses. Most of them would sell their souls for a candid shot of the former Antivan Angel or her partner, rock guitarist Nate Howe.

As a matter of fact, keeping the photographers off the grounds was one of the main elements of his job description. Sure, the stars were afraid of burglars, too, or of crazed fans trying to get too close to them. But up here, in the hills above Cumberland, behind the high fences of their gated communities, their main worry was the press.

There was no reason to expect trouble on this particular night. The air was balmy, and the lilac bushes were in full bloom. Carver inhaled their scent, allowing himself to indulge in one of his favourite memories. Meg Cousland, dressed in a swirling white dress, her red-golden hair tousled by the breeze, smiling at him from her car window as he waved her through the gate. He sighed happily. He had adored her ever since he'd been a teenager in Lothering, with big dreams and little hope of achieving them.

Rounding a corner, he paused in his tracks with a frown, trying to ascertain if he'd just imagined the noise. No, there it was again. A faint scraping, a rustle, and was that a giggle? A few quick steps took him to the wall of the house and, sure enough, a shadow was visible against the white paint. Someone trying to climb into a first-floor window, with the help of a rope. Though how that person had gotten past the fence and the alarms-

Carver didn't hesitate any longer. "Hey there!" He shone his strong flashlight directly at the intruder.

"Oh shit!" There was another rustle, a squeak, and then the climber slipped and tumbled downward, straight into Carver's arms.

He caught the falling body by pure instinct – after all he had little reason to save a burglar from the consequences of their criminal activities. From one moment to the other, he was suddenly holding a warm, firm body, breathing in a delicious, fresh scent, feeling a mop of fine, fluffy hair tickle his nose. He was still trying to process what exactly was going on here, when a hoarse voice sounded from above.

"Damn it, Meg, I told you this was a crazy idea. When will you ever listen?"

Carver froze. Meg? Exhaling slowly, he carefully set her down, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. She turned in his arms, placing her palms on his wide chest, and smiled up at him, that sassy, wicked smile he knew so well. Only it had never been directed at him, and he wouldn't have dared-

"You can let go of me now, you know." Her voice was warm and amused. "And thank you for breaking my fall. I hope I didn't hurt you."

Carver blushed even more furiously. "No. No, you didn't. I'm sorry I frightened you. But why in Thedas-" He swallowed hard. Shut up, Carver. She can do whatever she wants. It's her bloody house.

"Good question." Howe's voice again, dry as dust.

He was leaning out of the window, squinting down to see them. Carver could only make out the outline of his shoulders, but it was obvious they were bare. And she… He risked a glance at his employer. Meg Cousland was wearing what obviously passed as pyjamas for her, consisting of a thin tank top and very short shorts.

"Look, I'm sorry to have bothered you." She looked suitably chastened. "I was sitting at the window, enjoying the night air, and then Nate came in and somehow my blankie…" She pointed to a flannel blanket decorated with mabari puppies on the ground next to her feet. "It's my favourite, and I can't really sleep without it, so I decided to climb down and…"

Carver's expression must have been more eloquent than anything he could have said, because she trailed off, visibly embarrassed. "Yeah. It was a stupid idea."

"I… I would have gotten it for you." Yup. Definitely not too eloquent. Carver cleared his throat.

But, she just smiled again, and his heart skipped a beat. "You are so sweet. And I'm so sorry for making your job even more difficult than it already is."

"It isn't. I love it here. I really-" just want to be close to you. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but once again, he stopped himself just in time. Way to sound like a creepy stalker.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to read too much into his words. "Well, that's good. Anyway-" She turned and grabbed the blanket, winking at him. "I guess it's bedtime for little Megs. Can you unlock the door for me…?" She gave him a questioning glance, pointing at his name tag. "I'm sorry, I can't read it in this light."

"Carver. Carver Hawke. Of course. I have all the keys." He did his best to sound natural, struggling not to imagine her climbing into bed, where Howe was waiting for her, embracing her… Stop it, man. Pull yourself together!

One more radiant smile and she was gone. Carver leaned back against the wall with a deep sigh. It would take more than just the usual amount of discipline to focus on his job tonight.

"Oh, look, Nate. There's that cute security guard again. The one who caught me when I fell." Meg turned away from the kitchen window with a sunny smile. "He was such a sweetheart about the whole thing, don't you think?"

Nate glanced up from the oven where their pizza was nearly finished, rolling his eyes at her. "We're his employers, Meg. He didn't really have a choice."

Walking over to her, he glanced out past her shoulder. Yes. It was definitely the same guy. Tall, broad-shouldered, thick, black hair, a shy smile. He was chatting amiably to the pool boy, but he kept an eye on the fence all the time, alert and wary. She's right, though. He is kinda cute.

"He probably didn't know what hit him," he said aloud. "After all, he has no experience with crazy pop starlets."

"I am not a pop starlet!" Meg's eyes were sparkling with indignant fury. "And I'm not all that crazy either." Her expression became thoughtful. "You're right, though. It wasn't really fair to him. Do you think we should ask him to join us for lunch?"

"Meg!" He tried to hold her back, but it was too late.

She had already opened the door and was waving cheerily at the guy. "Hey, Carver!"

Hawke raised his head hesitantly. "Yes, Miss Cousland?"

"It's Meg." She was bouncing up and down on her bare feet. "Could you come over for a moment? Please?"

"Of course." He was blushing again, Nate observed. In the bright daylight it was obvious how young he was, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Twenty at the most, he decided, and as fresh-faced and innocent as they came.

Nate sighed, suddenly feeling very old. True, he was only twenty-six himself, but since DARKSPAWN!'s big breakthrough, he had seen enough of the world to feel much older.

"Do you like pizza?" Meg had taken Carver's hand and was dragging him inside. "Of course you do. Everyone likes pizza."

"I do, but-" The boy glanced shyly at Nate. "I really don't think I should-"

"Nonsense. There's far too much for the two of us anyway, and I want you to have some. It's ham and mushrooms, nothing fancy, but with lots of cheese."

Before Carver could process what was happening, Meg had seated him in one of the uncomfortable designer chairs, placing a plate in front of him. He looked dazed and confused, but not unhappy. Welcome to my world. Nate chuckled dryly.

The pizza was just about done, and it was delicious. Carver managed to tuck away an impressive amount, but they really had plenty to spare, so Nate didn't mind. Meg kept chattering on, about how glad she was that he'd saved her from breaking a leg, about how good it was to have reliable guards, about her blankie and how it reminded her of the puppy she'd had as a child.

Carver was remarkably stoic about it, answering quietly whenever a reply was required, and watching her in between, the expression in his big, dark eyes betraying nothing but- Maker, he adores her. Nate actually had to look away for a moment when he noticed the intensity of feeling behind that admiring gaze.

Not that he could blame Carver. From the moment he'd first met Meg, four years ago, he'd been putty in her hands. The other band members hadn't understood what he saw in her, or why he would even consider settling down with one girl when he could have had his pick of willing groupies, male or female, every night. Anders had actually called him an idiot. But he only wanted her. Sweet, crazy, headstrong Meg. His girl.

When Carver had finished his meal and left, politely thanking Meg for the invitation, Nate sat back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Well, that went well, don't you think?" Meg bounced back from the door, settling on his lap, brushing back a strand of his long hair. "Awwww, he has the sweetest puppy eyes I've ever seen."

"You like him." Nate kissed the spot just under her ear, where the skin was softest, humming with pleasure when he felt her shiver. "Don't you?"

"Well, you have to admit he's nice to look at." Meg grinned. "All big and strong and muscular. Enough to get a girl all hot and bothered." Her small hand dove under his shirt, trailing down to scrape a nail against his nipple.

She was teasing him, he knew it, but Nate wasn't so easily flustered. He could play this game as well as she could. "Would you like him for your birthday then?"

It was said lightly, but her reaction was extraordinary. Her green eyes went dark as her pupils widened, and she went taut in his arms, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Nate! You've got to be kidding!"

"Maybe I am." He pulled her into a long kiss, claiming her mouth more fiercely than he had in a long time. "Or maybe I'm serious." He wrapped a few strands of her hair around his hand, pulling back her head to make her look at him. "I could talk to him, Meg." Her mouth was half-open, and her breath was coming in fast, hard gasps. It made him dizzy with want to see her like this. "Would you like that?" His other hand cupped one of her breasts. "That strong, muscular body, all yours? Those big hands on your skin?" He lowered his voice to a whisper, flicking his thumb against her taut nipple. "His cock inside you?"

She mewled at this, and he grinned triumphantly, picking her up and carrying her over to the next room, where he dropped her unceremoniously onto the couch. Her clothes came off at amazing speed, and so did his. They didn't talk any more, not for a good long while. But, when he was done with her, she was hoarse from screaming.

Those of you who have read "Thirty Times Three" may have noticed that this is sort of a sequel to the "Idols" chapter - because I can't bear to leave Carver without a happy ending :)

As usual, hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven.