Characters/pairings: Anders, Fenris, Hawke (female mage), Varric, Isabela, Merrill; fenders
Rating: M
Warnings: m/m smut, inappropriate use of magic, swearing
Summary: Anders and Fenris finally give in, and begin some sort of a 'relationship', though they both try very hard to deny they have actual feelings for each other. / Written for Fenders February '17
Feedback is very much appreciated.
A/N: going back to writing fenders after a longer while, so some things (like characterization) may be a bit off. This is supposed to be a relatively short and simple fic written for a fan event. So I guess don't expect too much..?
Title from Undisclosed Desires by Muse.
Hawke's laughter echoed in the cave as she weighted a bag of coins in her hands.
"Look what we have here! I told you this place was worth checking out!" she beamed at the rest of the group.
Varric shook his head. "Let's hope the bandits have enough coin for all of us."
"Judging from the state of their armours, I'd say they weren't the richest men in the Free Marches," Anders added with a bitter expression on his face.
Fenris didn't pay much attention to looting dead corpses of their enemies, instead he took a calming breath. Normally he welcomed the feeling of adrenaline rushing through his body, yet for the past couple of days he didn't feel that good. His whole body was sore after fighting. Perhaps he simply needed some rest.
Feeling someone staring at him, he glanced around. His and Anders' eyes met for a brief moment, then the mage quickly turned his head away, pretending he wasn't looking. Fenris gripped his sword with a force that could break a man's leg in half.
It was infuriating. It wasn't the first time he felt the Anders' eyes on him when he thought the elf wouldn't notice. Staring at him like he was some... specimen. Fenris felt anger rising in his throat, his markings flickering for a split second, reacting to his emotions. He should have killed this man long time ago, Hawke would have understood. Maybe she would even congratulate him, after all Anders got her involved in that worthless mage underground thing that was nothing but trouble.
Thankfully Hawke asked him to check the crates by the wall. Much to her disappointment they didn't find anything valuable. Fenris didn't care that much as long as he could finally go back to Kirkwall and get some much needed rest.
It took Fenris a whole week to convince himself that he should, in fact, visit a healer. On his way to a small clinic in Darktown, he tried to justify his decision. Finding a healer who would want to treat an elf would be difficult enough, so there really was only one person in all Kirkwall who could help him.
With a heavy sigh, Fenris stepped inside Anders' clinic.
The furnishings were sparse: rickety beds for patients, currently empty, a bookshelf with some scrolls, bottles and vials. A sheet of fabric covered an entry to a smaller room which was most likely Anders' bedroom.
The mage himself was kneeling on the floor, putting pieces of meat to a small bowl for a large black cat. The animal shot Fenris a glance but paid no attention to him once the bowl was full. Anders patted the cat, then stood up and turned. Seeing the elf he froze, startled.
"Fenris. I didn't hear you come in."
It's a miracle you're still alive if you pay no attention to your surroundings.
Fenris resisted the urge to comment, reminding himself that he's not here to quarrel.
"I'm here to ask you something," he said. The fastest way of getting out of here was to state his business and hope Anders is cooperative enough. "You are a skilled healer, are you not?"
Anders observed him for a moment, his face blank. There was a hint of doubt in his eyes, as if he couldn't quite believe Fenris was here willingly.
"Sit down on the cot," the mage gestured at a narrow bed covered with an old blanket, grey as every other piece of fabric available in Darktown. "Is it an old wound? Let me look at your leg."
Fenris blinked, baffled. He didn't say a word about his leg hurting, yet the mage knew. Of course he did, he was a healer.
"I'm fine."
"You can barely walk."
"I said, I'm fine!"
You certainly aren't, said the mage without words, giving him a look. Fenris gritted his teeth. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go!
"I came here to purchase a salve. Varric mentioned you gave one to Sebastian the other day," he tried to keep his voice calm.
"It won't do much, if it's a bleeding wound." Anders wouldn't stop staring at him, as if trying to pierce the elf's armour and clothing with his intense gaze to check what was the problem. It was getting ridiculous.
"It's not," Fenris barked, tips of his pointy ears getting red.
"What is it, then? You need a salve for your sore muscles, am I right? You shouldn't have waited so long. Hawke needs you in battle, she has no use of a warrior that can't take proper care of his injuries. Your muscles started hurting around the time we came back from the Wounded Coast a week ago?"
Blighted mage, noticing every small detail.
"Yes," he admitted with resignation. "Now, since we agreed on something, would you sell me a salve?"
"No."
"N..?! Fasta vass!" His hands curled into fists. It would be so easy to rip the mage's heart out, thus solving all their problems. "I'm not here to steal your medications from you, I'll pay you good coin for..."
"I'm not selling you anything, Fenris," Anders interrupted, clearly amused by this whole situation.
Was the man... toying with him? Anger rose in his throat. Fenris closed the distance between them in two steps, so fast the mage could only blink before being pushed to sit down on the cot behind him. As the elf's metal gauntlets grabbed his coat, his expression changed, smugness replaced by panic.
"You always brag you're here for the people," Fenris growled, resisting the urge to twist the man's neck and be done with it. "Healing the poor, helping every fool, not taking anything in return. And yet, when I offer you to pay for a medication, give you some actual coin you're obviously lacking, you say no, because your healer's code means nothing when a person you hate asks you for help!"
"I'm not selling you anything," Anders repeated, this time with a panicky uneasiness in his voice. "You're getting it for free. Sebastian didn't have to pay, and I can't stand the guy. You're both fighting by my side. By Hawke's. You have to be in your top form. Of course I'll give you any medication you need!"
The growling stopped, but Fenris still held him firmly, nearly ripping the coat to shreds.
"Listen, I... uh..." Anders licked his lips, his face turning red. "I'm an ass, I know. I thought teasing you would be a good joke, you're always so serious about everything… Well, it clearly wasn't. Now, would you please let me go? This is the only coat I've got."
With a snarl Fenris let go, and took few steps back mumbling angrily in Tevene. Seeing his furious gaze, Anders replied with an apologetic smile.
"Let me have a look at your leg. You're getting the salve, but if it's your muscles that hurt then it won't do much."
"What do you suggest?" Fenris narrowed his eyes. He was already getting a headache; honestly, every conversation with this man was exhausting and resulted in a severe migraine. He could just punch him in his stupid head, and be done with everything.
"It's best to massage the sore muscles," Anders shrugged as if what he was suggesting didn't involve something that Fenris hated – being touched. "Sebastian blushed like a maiden, but let me tell you, he liked that. Obviously I'm a great masseuse! Though I imagine he had to scrub his skin after he got back to the Chantry, because an apostate touched him. His back is significantly be–"
"No."
The mage rolled his eyes. "I know you don't like people touching you, but listen..."
"It's a waste of time," Fenris announced, ready to leave. But when he turned, he couldn't quite hide the sour look on his face caused by a sudden eruption of pain in his thigh. Anders was, obviously, right; his muscles were sore, additionally his lyrium markings also hurt like seven hells, which was the reason he felt almost paralysed this morning.
After waking up, he laid in his bed, cursing, then spent the whole day battling with the idea of going to the Darktown clinic for help. It wasn't an easy decision, his pride was strongly against it, but in the end his sore body won. Then Anders had to make everything so bloody difficult, instead of just giving him some damn salve!
Anders' hand on his shoulder was unexpected, yet Fenris didn't oppose. "Sit down, please. And put your sword aside."
Without a word, Fenris let the mage guide him to the cot to sit down. At least the place was empty, so there was no one else to witness this foolish situation.
"I guess telling you to take of your leggings would be too much."
"..." If looks could kill, Anders would be a pile of ashes by now.
"All right, then," he cleared his throat, perhaps finally realising that it was no use joking with this particular patient.
"I'll start with massaging your feet..."
"Do NOT touch my feet!"
The mage put his hands up. "Okay, okay, relax! You elves..." he mumbled something more, irritated.
He deliberately placed his hands very slowly on the elf's right calf, his skin strikingly pale on the dark fabric. He kept his eyes fixed on the leg, so he wouldn't see the murderous glare Fenris was giving him.
"I believe you'll tell me when you're uncomfortable," Anders took a deep breath. "Let's begin. It's just a massage. You already know my touch, it'll be something like healing you after a battle. But with more touching," he blabbed. "Uh, I'll shut up now."
Finally, the elf thought.
"And for the record, I do not hate you. I obviously disagree with you on most subjects, but hate is a strong word reserved only for templars and people who drown newborn kittens."
His large hands massaged the elf's calf, radiating warmth that was pleasant and soothing. Fenris would never admit he liked it, that would ruin his reputation, wouldn't it? Instead he glared, ready to strike if Anders did something suspicious.
The mage simply continued, concentrating on the task. Calmed by his touch, lyrium under Fenris' skin gradually stopped hurting. It felt rather odd because the markings hurt all the time since he could remember. He grew so accustomed to this particular kind of ache, the lack of it was unnatural.
Anders moved his hands to massage his thigh, kneading the sore muscles but not doing anything else. Thankfully, he also kept his mouth shut.
It was... pleasant, yes. The mage certainly knew what he was doing. During his life in the Imperium, Danarius used to hire professional healers to tend to the wounds on his precious slave (that sometimes were a results of his foul experiments or treatment; the problem was that the slave was easily breakable, not that the master was a sadist). Fenris received a massage only twice in his live, he remembered his body responding to the healer's hands, all tension disappearing. That was only a figure without a name, another slave summoned to use his talents, just like Fenris did when ordered. He had to do it, or else face death for disobeying a direct order from a magister.
Anders, however, was doing this because he wanted to. It was his idea, after all. And his hands radiated warmth, markings responding to his will. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was a mage, a powerful one and with a Fade spirit inhabiting his body, on top of that.
Fenris shook his head. It didn't matter. He let out a sigh, his body relaxing bit by bit. Anders still didn't say anything, focusing his attention on the other leg.
Fenris had his eyes half–closed, enjoying the feeling. Then he winced, outraged, feeling something dangerously close to a spark of desire awakening somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
"That's enough." He pushed the mage who landed heavily on his ass as disgracefully as possible.
"I'm not done!" Anders complained with an ugly frown.
"I said, enough." Fenris stood up, his ears burning. This is ridiculous.
Enraged by his body's response, he grabbed his sword and nearly ran to the door. What he failed to notice was that his muscles were not hurting anymore.
"Fenris, the salve!" Anders called out after him. "You need to–"
But the elf was already gone.