Chapter Text
Anders looks up from his patient, his hands tingling with healing magic. He is tired, exhausted even, and his magic reserves are nearly used up. But someone just came through the door and he can only hope that it's just a minor injury. He doesn't have it in him to heal a large injury anymore, not tonight.
His vision is blurry and he blinks a few times to clear it but there is no mistake: Fenris stands in his clinic, looking at the beds and chairs filled with overnight patients with a sneer of... something. Anger? Disgust? Pity? It's hard to tell.
Fenris doesn't have a sword in his hand and while he doesn't need that to be a deadly weapon, Anders doesn't get the impression that he came here to fight. They recently have come to a careful state of peace between them. A rather fragile peace, but one that gives Anders plenty of opportunity to look at Fenris; which he really likes to do.
"Fenris, are you hurt?"
"No."
Anders turns his focus back to his patient, spreading the rest of his magic to knit tissue together. At last, the deep cut is healed, the rest of the wound can be treated with bandages and a poultice to heal naturally. Lilith is already at his side, holding bandages at the ready and shoos him away.
"You have to rest, Healer," she says firmly and waves his meek protest off.
"Fine, fine." Anders holds on to the table for a moment, swaying, before he finds the strength to walk over to his desk and fall into the chair. He closes his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.
"Anders."
Fenris' deep voice has Anders snap to attention in more ways than one. Does the elf even know how amazing his voice is? Does he know how beautiful he is? Anders slowly turns his head to find Fenris standing next to him. He's looking down on Anders, a concerned frown on his forehead and he is more beautiful than anyone has any right to be.
"Sorry, what can I do for you?"
"You're not well."
"Nothing new under the sun. Not that we see much of the sun here in Darktown."
"I..." Fenris' mouth is open but no more words come out. He looks down at the small bag he holds in his hand and throws it in Anders' lap as if it's on fire. "For you," he says and turns. He's by the door before Anders has the chance to check the bag for its contents.
"Wait, Fenris, what...?"
But Fenris is already gone, swallowed up by the fog rising from the water. Anders looks at the bag in his lap and pokes at it. It doesn't move, so it's not a kitten or something like that, which is a bit disappointing. He carefully opens it and finds several small packages inside, wrapped in clean cloth. He takes one out and folds the corners back and does the same with the next packages until he has all of them spread out in his lap.
"He's bringing me food?" Anders stares at the neatly prepared slices of bread, each covered with butter, cheese and a leaf of lettuce. One package contains tiny sweet pastries that smell divine.
"Your friend knows you well," Lilith says as she walks by. "You need to eat more and we can use those linens for bandages too. Very thoughtful, your friend."
"My friend?" Anders mumbles. He has already wolfed down the first bread and now forces himself to go slower or he'll get the hiccups again. His thoughts are stuck on Fenris and him being friends. Are they? They haven't yelled at each other for weeks now, that much is true, and ever since Hawke visited her sister in the Circle with Fenris, he has gotten really quiet in his declarations of general mage evilness.
Anders is certainly not complaining. It gives him plenty of opportunity to nurse his crush on the elf. It's never going to happen but in his fantasy, Fenris has already brought him several kittens and they all sleep together in a big bed with clean white linens.
The thought is so absurd that he chokes on a bite of pastry.
The next day, Anders has almost forgotten about Fenris' strange visit — no he has not, he has in fact lost sleep over wondering about it — Fenris turns up again. This time it's later and Anders has already sent Lilith home with the few coins that made it into the basket by the door. He cleans, sending a cleansing spell over his table and putting the used bandages and linens into a bucket of soapy water. With a snap of his wrist, he throws a fireball into the bucket to bring it to a boil.
A gasp behind his back has him turn around, only to see Fenris stare at him with wide eyes.
"Oh," Anders says rather stupidly. "I didn't hear you come in."
Fenris looks at the bucket and frowns. "You shouldn't bring it to a boil like that."
Anders stops himself from rolling his eyes. "Sorry, if I'd known you were here, I wouldn't have done it in front of you. But surely you have seen people use magic like this before, it's not all just for fighting, magic can be used to cool food for storage or heat water like this. Magic has many uses and — "
"No," Fenris interrupts. He unbuckles the scabbard from his shoulder and leans the sword against the wall. "I meant that you should wash the bandages in cold water first, the blood stains will set in hot water."
Anders stares at him with his mouth open.
Fenris stares back and slowly his frown turns into a grin. It's like watching the sun come up behind dark, thunderous clouds.
"You..." Anders has trouble forming words in the light of Fenris' smile. "You're right, I... I forgot."
Fenris is still smiling and Anders is sure that he will faint if he watches that any longer. He turns away, hiding the blush that is surely showing on his cheeks. Just for good measure, he casts an ice spell into the bucket, even though it's probably too late for the bandages.
"Can I sit?" Fenris asks.
"Do you want to?"
Having Fenris here, in his clinic, is unsettling already; Anders can't wrap his head around the fact that he now wants to stay. "Uhm, here." He wipes accumulated stuff from his second chair and places it as far away as possible from his own chair by the desk.
The frown returns to Fenris' forehead, he takes off his sharp gauntlets, lifts the chair and places it closer to Anders'. He sits down, setting his bag on his lap and looks at Anders, the grin on his face clearly a dare.
Anders wipes over the operating table once more. Not that it needs it, he already cleansed it of everything organic but it gives him a moment to think. Unfortunately, he still can't make sense of the whole situation.
Anders turns to Fenris, wiping his fingers clean on a rag. "Um, why are you here?"
"I brought food." Fenris takes out a large package from his bag and unfolds the wrapped linen to reveal a whole wooden plate of cheese and ham and slices of buttered bread.
The image of Fenris standing in his derelict kitchen, cutting bread, cheese, and ham into slices, fails to take hold in Anders' head. Maybe spirits did it. But it's food and he's hungry and the whirlwind of questions in his head can wait until his stomach isn't growling anymore.
Anders takes a long step over the buckets and boxes on the floor and sits down in his creaky chair, scooting further towards his desk to give Fenris more room. Fenris frowns at that.
"Are you afraid of me?" Fenris asks.
"No, I mean, I know you're dangerous but I don't think you would just grab my heart for the fun of it... I hope." Anders takes a piece of buttered bread and a slice of ham and starts eating. No matter where this conversation will go, he'll get at least one good meal out of it.
"No, I wouldn't." Fenris stares straight ahead, his frown getting even deeper. He gestures toward the difference between their chairs. "Why this?"
Anders takes another piece of bread and some cheese and starts stuffing his mouth. He chews fast, swallows too much and, predictably, gets the hiccups. He holds his breath, patting his own chest.
Fenris steps up to Anders' chair and holds a glass of water out to him, watching as Anders takes a few hasty sips. He takes the glass back, but stays in front of Anders, his knee almost touching Anders'. He looks down to Anders, his frown slowly softening.
The way Fenris looks at him, Anders thinks he now understands how a mouse feels when a cat looks at them. He presses himself against the back of his chair, causing it to creak dangerously.
Fenris licks his lips, looking even more like a cat. "If you're not afraid of me, why are you moving away all the time?"
Anders swallows hard. "I'm just trying to give you space. You hate me, everyone knows that."
Fenris' expression softens. "I don't hate you." He steps back and walks to the operating table and then to the wall and back.
For a moment, Anders fears that Fenris is going to leave but instead he is pacing between the table and the wall. His shoulders are drawn inward and he walks as if he still carries that hefty sword on his back and expects to be attacked at any moment. He stops abruptly and turns to Anders. "I don't hate you."
"Since when?" Anders watches Fenris as he takes another piece of bread from the plate left on Fenris' chair.
Fenris stops his pacing and stares at the wall. "I don't know. I have come to tolerate you — "
"Oh good." The last piece of bread and cheese finds its way into Anders' mouth. "I always wanted to be tolerable."
Fenris throws his head back. "Will you let me speak, mage?"
Anders swallows the bread down and leans back in his chair. "See, if you're done with hating me, you could, maybe, not call me 'mage' like that."
"Like what?"
"Like it's disgusting. Like I'm disgusting."
"You're not..." Fenris turns to him and the corner of his lip twitches upwards. "You're not disgusting, Anders."
Predictably, Anders feels himself blushing. Curse his stupid crush on the angry elf. "That's good to know, I'll make sure to let Justice know. Oh right, Justice, the spirit that lives in me, for which you love to call me an abomination, have you met him?"
Fenris frowns and looks anywhere but at Anders. "I am aware of your... your spirit."
"Well, aren't we all." Anders' mood has taken a deep dive into the dark, for reasons he doesn't understand. His belly is full, Fenris apparently doesn't hate him all that much anymore — he should be in a good mood. But looking at Fenris is like looking at a cake in a shop window that he can never have and he still keeps pressing his nose against the glass.
"I better go." Fenris turns to the door to pick up his sword.
"No, I'm sorry!" Anders jumps up from his chair.
Fenris looks at him, a strand of his hair falling into his face. "I don't understand. Why are you angry?"
Anders kneads the skin of his face with both hands. "Maker, I don't even know. You brought me food, that officially makes you my favorite person."
"But you're angry with me."
Anders sighs and sits down. He leans his head back on the back of the chair and closes his eyes. Exhaustion creeps into his bones, the lack of regular sleep had to catch up with him at some point. "I'm not really angry, I think I'm just confused. I guess I can't deal with you being nice to me, it upends the order of my world."
Something touches his face, calloused fingertips brush over his cheek and Anders' eyes fly open. Fenris leans over him, stroking his face. He brushes his fingers into Anders' hair, tracing the outline of his ear and smiles at him.
"If I'm upending your world," Fenris says, his voice dangerously deep, "I should do it right." He presses his hand on Anders' cheek, holding him still and leans down. He kisses him.
For what feels like several years, Anders is frozen. His mind is white, not even Justice making a peep. Fenris' lips on his are soft but firm, caressing and demanding. Anders finds himself following that demand, opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Without thinking much, it's easy to follow Fenris' lead, to take the kiss like an offering and answer in kind.
Fenris moves away a fraction, drawing a breath in between their lips. Anders gulps in air with sudden desperation, as if he has forgotten to breathe and needs the reminder. He takes in the taste and scent of Fenris, already familiar and he wants more.
This time, Anders moves. His hand finds Fenris' neck and pulls him closer. He finally remembers how kissing works and if this is just a strange dream, he wants to take everything that he can. He opens his lips, dipping his tongue forward, licking Fenris' lips.
Fenris takes a harsh breath and then he's on Anders like a force. He straddles Anders, his armor pressing into his chest and his fingers carding through his hair. The chair creaks but Fenris keeps pressing forward, holding Anders' head in his hands, kissing him, his tongue exploring his mouth.
After the initial shock, Anders melts into the kiss. He moans, taking what Fenris is offering him, holding on as best as he can. The armor is annoying, his searching fingers only finding hard leather and metal but then his hands slip lower and he grabs Fenris' ass. The surprised gasp from the elf makes him laugh.
The chair creaks again and Anders grabs Fenris' head. "You have to get up."
As if he slapped him, Fenris jumps up and backs away. "I'm sorry, I — "
"No." Anders hurries after him, one hand up but he halts when Fenris flinches as if he expects to be slapped. "It's just the chair. The chair will break."
Slowly, the frown disappears from Fenris' forehead and he steps forward. He seems to grow several lengths as he comes closer, the tension leaving his shoulders and his body straightening from its hunched up posture. He takes Anders' hand that he still holds up, and pulls it to his face. Watching Anders with burning eyes, he places several kisses on the wrist.
Anders' knees go weak and a gasp escapes his lips.
Fenris keeps watching him, kissing softly along the inside of Anders' arm.
A shudder goes through Anders' body. "Fenris," he whispers.
Fenris stops kissing his skin, his lips hovering over Anders' arm. "Yes?"
Before Anders can say anything, his awareness is pushed aside and he can only watch blue light breaking through his skin as Justice surges forward. "You will not hurt him!"
Fenris takes a step back, hunching his shoulders again but he keeps holding Anders' hand, despite the angry lines casting blue light onto him. "I have no intention to hurt him."
Justice seems to consider that and Anders fights to get into his awareness again. But Justice isn't done. "This is a distraction."
Anders pushes hard, the annoyance at Justice giving him strength. With a rush, reality slams back into him, Justice retreating back into the hidden part of his mind. "Don't you dare, Justice," Anders spits out when he has control over his mouth again. "You don't get to destroy the one good thing happening in my life." Only now he notices that Fenris is still holding his hand. He almost doesn't dare to look at him.
But Fenris smiles. "The one good thing?"
"I..." Anders looks down on his hand in Fenris' and then back into his incredible eyes. Deep green eyes he wants to drown in. He's so close, he can see flecks of gold in them. His voice gets stuck in his throat. "I don't know what's happening but I'm not complaining."
Fenris pulls and Anders finds himself in Fenris' arms. "What do you want?" he asks.
"Could you kiss me again?" Anders asks carefully.
Fenris pulls him closer, his breastplate still an annoyance but he kisses him again and Anders forgets the meaning of time.
***
"I knew it!" Isabela drapes herself over Anders' chair and grins. "I knew all that hissing and frothing was just you two having the hots for each other. Damn, I wrote that story!"
"I don't think I want to read that story." Anders rolls up clean bandages, most of them even white, despite his blunder with the hot water a few days ago.
"What story?" Hawke asks as she strolls in.
Anders tosses another rolled up bandage into a basket. "Is my clinic the new Hanged Man?"
Hawke waves his complaint off and steps up to Isabela's chair, kissing her.
"Be careful with that chair," Anders says.
Hawke looks over her shoulder to him. "Why? It can't take some hot kissing?"
"Well..." Anders shrugs.
"Oh!" Isabela cries out. "You fucked in this chair! In this chair right here!"
Anders rolls his eyes. "We didn't fuck."
"Oh, to be a mouse in these walls," Isabela says with a dreamy voice.
"There's too many mice there already," Anders says. "And rats."
"Come on, babe," Hawke says, pulling Isabela to her feet. "There's a dwarf outside who wants to speak to us."
"And here I wanted to hear all those juicy details..." Isabela saunters out of the clinic and they hear her greeting someone outside.
Hawke walks after her but stops at Anders' side. "You have to be careful with Fenris."
"What do you mean? You think he's dangerous?"
"No, that's not what I meant." Hawke sighs and looks at him. "When he was Danarius' slave, he was abused. He doesn't like talking about it but I think he was sexually abused. He may not..." Hawke sighs again, her voice thick with emotion. "He may not be ready for — you know — everything."
Hawke squares her shoulders and turns back to the door. Looking back, she fixes Anders with a glare. "Be good to him."
"I will, I promise." Anders watches her leave, wondering if Fenris is even aware of how much Hawke worries about him.
It has been a quiet day at the clinic and he hasn't much to clean, but he spent the day before and the morning with Hawke on Sundermount and collected as many plants as he could carry. That haul has to be cleaned now and the herbs prepared for salves and potions. It's simple busy work and his mind begins to wander.
He has only a vague idea of what life in Tevinter is like. In his youth, he even idolized it for a while, it seemed to be a dream to have a country where mages were not hunted but worshipped instead. It took several books from the Circle's library and especially Fenris' few stories of his life as a slave, to convince him that Tevinter wasn't the paradise that he wanted it to be.
What had happened to Fenris while Danarius owned him? Did he have to kneel at his master's feet? Did he have to attend to him, pleasure him whenever his master ordered him to? Anders groans quietly. There is something arousing and forbidden in that image. Not that Anders would ever wish such treatment forced on anybody, but if it was part of a game? To submit to someone, to give up his own will for a while, to only do what one is told? He isn't ashamed to admit to himself that he finds that hot.
Anders has to adjust his pants, his cock showing a definite interest in that scenario.
These are not helpful thoughts right now, their relationship hasn't come close to that yet. They've been kissing, and Fenris is a phenomenal kisser. Apart from that, they talk a lot, avoiding certain subjects. And Anders is aware that this avoidance, the way they don't talk about mages and mage rights, gives their relationship an end point in the near future. Such differences are not simply overcome by kissing.
But for now, why shouldn't he enjoy what they have, even if it isn't forever?
"Anders."
"Ah!" Anders' hands jerk at hearing Fenris' voice next to him and the bundle of herbs he was trying to hang up flies away in a great arc, spreading itself out in leaves and twigs all over the floor.
"What are you doing?" Fenris asks with an amused smile, looking at the spread of herbs on the floor.
"Obviously covering the floor with flowers for you, so that your gentle feet may never touch the dirty ground," Anders says and sighs, staring at the mess he made.
Fenris chuckles and takes Anders' chin in his hand, turning his face towards him. "I'm delighted." He smiles down at Anders and it's frankly ridiculous how beautiful the elf is. Anders can only stare, his heart beating way too fast, his body reacting to Fenris' presence with heat that floods him from his head to his toes.
After a moment, Fenris places a kiss on his cheek and then steps back, holding out his basket. "It's still warm, we should eat it now."
"What is it?"
"Rabbit. At least that's what the butcher said, he grills them in an oven at the market."
"It smells delicious, let me just pick up these herbs." Anders slides down from his chair onto his knees, crawling forward to pick up the herbs. He hears Fenris setting the basket down hard on the table and turns to look.
Fenris' eyes are wide and he's blushing. It takes Anders a moment to realize that he's on his knees, and his face is only a handwidth away from Fenris' crotch. The crotch which shows a definite bulge right now. Anders stares at it, his mind emptying until all he can think about is tearing Fenris' leggings off and tasting him.
Anders slowly looks up into Fenris' darkened eyes. The tips of his ears twitch. With a breath, Anders leans forward, still looking into those stormy eyes, and places his open mouth over Fenris' clothed cock. He kneads the bulge with his lips, drooling over the fabric.
Fenris sucks in a breath. "Anders." Fenris' voice is nothing more than a harsh whisper.
"May I?" Anders puts his fingers on the lacing of Fenris' leggings, waiting for an answer. "Please?"
A growl rises from Fenris' chest. "Fasta vass, yes."
Never in his life has Anders undone the lacing of anything so fast. The fabric parts and Fenris' cock strains forward, right against Anders' lips. He grabs Fenris' hip to steady himself and kisses the tip of his cock, looking up to Fenris and relishes in the gasp he causes. Closing his eyes, he wraps his lips around the head and sucks.
Fenris keens and slides his fingers into Anders' hair. His fingers clench, scratch, pull at his hair in delicious tension and Anders follows the pull, moving closer and taking Fenris deeper. He slides the tip of his tongue around the head as he slowly works his way down. He gets about halfway before he hits the back of his throat and he covers the remaining length with his hand. The pressure on the back of his head keeps him there, gently pressed against Fenris' crotch and he moves his head and hand up in a slow slide and even slower back down again.
A tremble goes through Fenris' body, Anders feels it in his hand and on his tongue. A slew of words falls from his lips, words that Anders doesn't understand but then —
"Anders!" Fenris cries out and comes.
Oh, how Anders loves to hear his name like that, with that voice, with that rasp of pleasure in it. He swallows what Fenris gives him, greedily, and then moves his lips back up, gently massaging Fenris' cock a few more times before he sits back on his haunches to look up to him. He can't help but grin, proudly.
Fenris opens his eyes and stares for a moment. Then, with an almost angry growl, he falls to his knees down between Anders' legs and presses a bruising kiss on his lips. Anders has to plant his hands on the ground behind him to hold against the force of Fenris' weight.
He kisses like he fights, is the one thought holding in Anders' brain. He demands, pushing forward, taking whatever Anders can give. His arms go weak and they fall backwards, crushing the herbs under Anders' back. The smell of elfroot and embrium mixes with the distinct smell of lust and desire as Fenris presses against him.
"This is a distraction."
Anders frowns at Justice's voice in his head. The spirit is usually not so forward. He tries to focus on Fenris again but Justice keeps pressing into his mind, reminding him of what he has to do. Mages die or are made tranquil every day and he wastes his time here, with this distraction.
Sensing Anders' loss of focus, Fenris lets go of his lips, slowly moving back. He sits up, one hand resting on Anders' thigh, and looks at him. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry," Anders says and wipes his face.
Fenris is up in a flash, tying his laces. "It was a mistake."
"No!" Anders scrambles to get up and pulls Fenris back by his arm before he can grab his sword and run out. "It was not a mistake, please, don't leave."
"But you..." Fenris makes a vague hand gesture that means nothing and everything.
"I know, but it's not like that." Anders wipes over his face again. He finds a drop of Fenris' spend sticking on his cheek and takes it off with his finger. Watching Fenris, he puts his finger into his mouth and licks it off.
Fenris stares. His eyes go from Anders' mouth to his eyes and back several times. At last he frowns at Anders and grabs his hand. Anders' finger leaves his mouth with a pop. "I don't understand — " he stares at Anders' hand "— this."
Anders grins helplessly. "It's not you, it's me? Is that an expression you know?"
Fenris' frown turns darker, if that is even possible. "If you're toying with me, if I disgust you —"
"Maker, no!" Anders shakes his head and uses the hand that Fenris holds to touch his cheek. "Andraste's arse, don't you know how amazing you are? You're smart, educated, principled, articulated. And you're so hot, it's wholly unfair."
"Then why don't you want to kiss me?" The scowl has disappeared and Fenris has never looked more vulnerable as now, staring at Anders with wide eyes.
"But I do!" Anders puts both his hands on Fenris' cheeks and pulls his head closer, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "I want to kiss you all the time, everywhere. I want to taste you, feel you." Another kiss, this one turning urgent when Fenris opens his lips and Anders finds his tongue with his own, sliding softly against him. His hips begin to grind against Fenris'.
Anders pulls back for a breath. "And I want to suck you off, so bad, I want... I want everything, I just want you."
"A distraction."
"Ugh," Anders groans, throwing his head back in frustration. "Damn you, Justice."
"It's your demon," Fenris states. "Your spirit."
"Yes, spirit, thank you." Anders sighs and lets his hand slide down Fenris' arm. "Can we sit while we talk?"
Fenris nods and pulls the chair closer before he sits down. The heavy smell of embrium hangs in the air, the crushed herbs still spread on the ground between them. Anders sits down opposite of him and takes his hands in his.
"It's not just Justice." Anders takes a deep breath and stares at Fenris' hands. "Believe me, it frustrates me too. I'm a Warden, we have stamina for days, I could... But my mind goes a mile a minute all the time, I have so much to do, so much to think about."
Anders absentmindedly strokes over Fenris' knuckles with his thumbs, feeling more than hearing the song of the lyrium in his skin.
"Without this clinic," Anders says, "people die down here like flies and nobody cares. When I'm not here, some child will die of an infected toe because these people have nothing. And my fight for mage rights is not just a silly thing to waste time on. The templars kill mages or make them tranquil every day and again — nobody cares. Every day I don't find a way of raising awareness, of changing this, more get killed or get their personhood erased. Justice keeps reminding me of that and that can be annoying but it's not just Justice."
He looks up to catch Fenris' eyes and loses his train of thought. "Maker's breath, you're so beautiful."
Fenris' ears perk up and the tips turn deep red. "You're distracted. But you were not distracted when... when you sucked me off." He scowls for a moment but then a grin spreads on his face.
Anders laughs out. "No, by the Maker, I was not distracted then and it was wonderful. You're wonderful." He can't look away from his eyes, mapping every single golden fleck in all that green to his memory. "You're wonderful and I loved doing that for you and I want to do it again and you don't have to reciprocate. That's not what this is about."
"But..." Fenris looks away and his hands tighten on Anders' arms. "You're not my slave."
"That's not —" Anders halts, looking at Fenris. "Is that what he did?"
Silence stretches between them but Anders waits.
"A slave's pleasure is not the master's concern," Fenris finally says.
Anders steps closer, moving his arms to free them from Fenris' iron grip. He puts his hands on Fenris' face, wiping his thumb over his lower lip. "There's no slave and no master here. I wanted to make you feel good and I'm glad I could and it made me feel good too. I'm sure Justice will get used to it, to us, in a little bit and then..."
Fenris opens his lips and kisses the pad of Anders' thumb.
"I... I...," Anders stammers and his gaze goes from Fenris' lips to his eyes. "I forgot what I wanted to say, please kiss me."
Fenris shoves his hand into Anders' hair and holds him by the scruff of his neck. He kisses him with the same single-minded dedication that he does everything with, thoroughly taking his words away.
Anders melts into him, moaning as their tongues slide against each other. He breathes him in, clinging to him like a man drowning and maybe that's what he really does, drowning in Fenris. He forgets to think, to wonder, he lets himself drown in this moment with Fenris.