A/N: Another, almost random, idea that came to mind and demanded to be written. All thoughts are appreciated! By all means, feel free to comment! I was overdue for another Anders piece – this will be finished in a couple of chapters.
Disclaimer: They all belong to Bioware but I like to have my fun.
"You are going to be fine Hawke."
Drenched in sweat and over tired, Hawke gave a soft nod. A sigh of relief slipped through her parched lips. She swallowed thickly and gestured for some water. After a moment of the cool, refreshing liquid, she felt a little better. With some help, she managed to get herself upright in the massive pile of pillows on her four poster bed.
"You are certain?" She croaked the question.
"Quite sure," Anders murmured as he brushed the hair back from her sweaty brow, "the danger has passed."
"Maker," she sighed, "I really thought that was it. That I'd finally run out of luck."
"Not quite yet," he chuckled. He was quick to sober up, his amber eyes holding a stern look she knew all too well. It was one she got often from this healer who'd quickly become her best friend, all those years ago when she came to Kirkwall fresh off the boat from Ferelden. "You need to be more careful, Hawke. This was a close call. You're getting a little careless...you can't just keep running into battle thinking you're going to come out unscathed."
"I know, I'll try to be more careful." She grinned cheekily and held up her pinky. "Promise."
Seemingly satisfied, Anders began to go over what it was she needed to do in his absence. Hawke couldn't bring herself to listen, not when she was a mess inside; this could have been it. She had literally been inches away from Death's door. It was all such a blur, but that she remembered. After barely being healed after the Arishok's blade impaled her, she'd developed a raging infection from the remnants of the wound. An infection that had fought Anders inch for inch, almost successful in it's attempt to claim her.
She lifted the tankard of water Anders had brought her, her hands trembling. She was the last living member of the Hawke family line and she had nearly joined the rest in the afterlife. She'd seen the light, heard her loved one's voices; then she'd been jerked back into her body, forever changed.
Something had to change, she knew that much.
She just wasn't sure what that something was. Yet.
Hawke fidgeted nervously outside the door to Anders' Darktown clinic. Maker, mortality or not, this was a horrible idea. Why she had even decided upon it was beyond her, but she wasn't going to die without this happening. Considering what had happened a couple of weeks ago, that time could very well be limited. The qunari threat may have been quelled but she knew that they hadn't been the real threat; the real threat was forever brewing, if Anders' continued rumors were even the tiniest bit true. Her life had to change, somehow, and this was the course she'd decided upon – she had to do this, and her best friend was the only one she knew would help her.
She gathered the courage to knock but when she went to do so, the door opened and Anders appeared. His dark brows rose and he looked genuinely surprised to see her on his stoop. "Hawke? It's late, what are you doing here?" He took a look around and then grabbed her hand to pull her into the safety of his clinic. He shut the door behind them and leaned against it, his gaze level and assessing.
"How did you know I was here?" She bit her lip and wrung her hands nervously.
He frowned as if his answer made him uneasy, shrugging his shoulders. "You are a mage, like I. Justice is a being of the Fade and, even as warped as he is now, he can feel the threads that connect you and I to the Fade. I felt you outside."
"Oh I see."
"Why are you here?" He lowered his voice, whispering almost angrily. "The Templars have been snooping around here, Hawke. It's not safe. Didn't you promise me you were going to start being more careful?"
She bit her lip again and nodded. "I...needed to talk to you."
"This couldn't wait until the morrow?"
"No," she shook her head adamantly; that would mean talking to him with the others in earshot. She needed to talk to him alone. She would be mortified if this were done in public. "I needed to speak with you alone. It's important."
His lips pressed together, brows furrowing in concern. He came toward her and cupped her shoulders in his calloused palms. "What is it Hawke? Is everything alright?"
Now or never Hawke. Here goes nothing.
"I need a favor," she whispered, wringing her hands.
"You know I would do anything for you, Hawke."
"Iwantachild," she breathed out in a rush. When he stared at her blankly, she sighed and repeated herself softly, "I want a child."
His brows nearly jumped into his hairline and his jaw slackened. "A child?" She nodded and he pulled back, folding his arms over his chest. "Why now?"
"It is as you said Anders. The way I'm living my life, it is only a matter of time before something happens to me. I've always wanted a family," she breathed nervously, "I've always wanted to be a mother. But I have no one, no love, and I'm running out of time. All I have is you – I don't want to make a child with a stranger. I know you were in love with Bethany and, honestly, it is a bit cruel for me to ask you to help me in this, but...please, Anders. It has to be you."
To say he looked shocked would have been an understatement. He rubbed the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. "Hawke... listen – I'm not exactly a fit parent...you should wait for someone who is, someone who loves you. I mean, I do love you Hawke – as a friend. Bethany was..."
"I know," Hawke sighed. She lifted her eyes to his and reached out to take his hand with her's. "You're a good person, Anders. I've always seen it in you, whether or not you believe it anymore. You wouldn't have to be a father, if that isn't what you wanted, or if you think your presence would only make things worse. But please, I have no one else. My family is all gone and this is something I need."
He shuddered and shut his eyes, inhaling a steadying breath. "Hawke..."
"Please, Anders."
"Are you certain this is what you want?..."
"Aye," she trembled anxiously.
"You cannot take this back, Hawke."
"I know."
He took his hand from hers and cupped her cheek in his palm. He looked almost sad, but she knew she couldn't go back now. She had come too far to turn back. Anders was a good man and the only one she could even consider to do this; she didn't want a stranger and there was no one she knew better than Anders.
"You know I can deny you nothing. Come," he took her hand again and tugged her after him.
You can't go back now Hawke. Maker...her subconscious glared at her the entire length of her trek to the back of Anders' clinic, where his meager bedroom lay in wait. Hawke tramped her down stubbornly as Anders took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. It wasn't unpleasant. It was quite nice actually and she felt herself responding, even if it felt somewhat awkward. She disentangled herself and took a step back, deftly undoing the ties to her robes. The material slid from her shoulders and then down her arms, before it pooled on the floor at her feet. Her bit her lip as his warm gaze took in her naked form, Hawke having forgone any undergarments in hopes that he would agree.
"I know I'm not who you want –" she knew all too well that he had fallen for her sister before she had perished in the deep roads, " – if it makes it easier, you could pretend I am someone else..."
He put his finger against her lips, his expression reproachful. "I don't need to pretend you are anyone but you Hawke. You're beautiful." She trembled and nodded. His fingers went to the snaps of his coat, undoing them one by one. He laid the coat on the nearby chair and then sat to slowly unlace his boots. Next came his shirt and soon, he was left in nothing but his breeches and his socks(oddly enough she took a moment to realize those said socks had holes in them). It touched her that he was willing to do this for her. Trembling, she reached out for him and he came willingly into her arms. He scooped her into his own and carried her to the bed where he laid her carefully.
He moved to undo the laces of his breeches, but he froze and gave her a cautious, wary look. "This is your last chance to change your mind Hawke."
"I can't." She swallowed and brushed his hands away gently, undoing the laces herself. "This is something I need to do."
"As you wish." He gulped as she helped him remove his breeches. Then his small clothes until they were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other, completely nude. He took in a deep breath, reaching out his hand to cup her cheek. "Ready?" Hawke nodded and he laid her back, kissing her gently. His hand brushed across her neck and down her chest, before gently enfolding her breast. She bit her lip, biting back a moan against his lips as his calloused fingers touched and brushed over her sensitive nipples.
His lips followed and smoothed down her slim neck. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she trembled, his other hand sliding down across her slim abdomen, before slipping between her thighs to brush against her sex. She nearly jumped from her skin, suddenly feeling awkward to be here; this was her friend.
Don't you dare wimp out Hawke.
"Want me to keep going?" He breathed against the swell of her breast. Her nipple budded in awareness and she nodded, biting her lip. He hesitated a moment but then nodded. His palm brushed against her clitoris and she let her head fall back as a moan slid free from her lips. He did it again, then again, and soon she was eagerly pushing herself against his hand, all awkwardness evaporating in the wake of her desire. He dipped two fingers into her, caressing at her walls, making her keen with pleasure. Soft thrusts prepared her for what was coming as he laved her nipples warmly with his tongue, teeth tugging at the budded peaks.
He listed his head, his gaze warm and assessing. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she breathed on a shudder.
He took his fingers from her and dipped his body into the cradle of her hips. His head dipped back down to tease her breasts as the head of his length brushed against her clitoris, before gently probing between her lips in a shallow dip. She shuddered and gripped his shoulders, arching her body against his. He didn't wait any longer; suddenly he was filling her in one sharp, quick thrust and she cried out, clutching at him as she to his invasion. Mindful of her, he began with shallow, teasing thrusts making her more eager by the moment.
"I'm okay," she gasped, "please."
He paused a moment, then thrust deep making her moan loudly. Then he was kissing her as he started with a more vigorous rhythm. In and out, faster and then harder, and she responded as if he were truly her lover and not just a friend doing her a favor. Her nails bit into his back as she wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him to her and bringing her body angling up to accept his every thrust. She didn't want him to stop. He was stirring something within her she'd long forgotten, but that wasn't what she'd come for; she wanted a child, she reminded herself even as the pleasure heightened to the point where thinking coherently was becoming nearly impossible.
His calloused hands cupped her breasts as they reached for their peaks, thrust eager and fast, hard and mind boggling in their pleasure. She went eagerly toward the precipice, biting down on his neck as she gave in. She came apart around him. Head back, she cried out, her walls clenching down on him like a vice as it bathed his length in her sweet, almost cleansing, release. He groaned, thrust hard a time or two more, and then he too came apart, spilling his seed within her to forever brand her and, hopefully, gift her for the thing she longed for most.
Together, they fell to the bed. He sighed softly, pressed a kiss to her hair, and brought the covers around them to cover their nude flesh. Now that the act was over, she was once again self conscious and feeling awkward. She wondered if she should just leave but, exhausted and uncertain, she just allowed herself to drift off to sleep in his bed.