In the second half of Nanowrimo this year I realized I didn't have the energy to hold down five gigs and finish writing my complicated final arc for Devil's Due, my SWTOR Inquisitor rewrite, but I still wanted to finish Nanowrimo so I could get that discount on Scrivener (I like it! I think it's really useful). So I turned to fluff instead, and since I'd recently restarted playing DA2 with yet another rendition of my D&D warlock Reid (now with an actual family!) I needed to write some FenReid friendmance.

So this is all pretty messy writing by my standards, and I don't care, it's for the fluffy fluff and the feels. Some headcanons and character build: Reid's autoattack spells in this story aren't determined by his staff, but by what he learned to control personally (so he only ever uses lightning as an auto, not fire or force or whatever); he has some of the Primal tree, all of the Entropy tree, and a little Blood Mage and Force Mage specializations; I played on Easy so there's no friendly fire. I downloaded a freckle mod, and the Vow of Pride robes mod (though I didn't give those to him until Act 2; in Act 1 I wore the default gear for the RP).

This fic is going to be a lot of short little vignettes (with longer setpieces when setpieces occur). This first part borrows a lot from the game but I also like to branch out and put in inbetween scenes, hope you like them. Bo is the name I gave the dog.

Spoilers: Isabela leaves (I didn't have her approval high enough), Anders dies (sorry, Anders fans)

This story is rated M for incessant swearing and occasional sexiness.

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Please Stay

First Meeting

The first time they met was a clichéd moonlit night; Isabela and Carver were slightly bloodspattered from the strange, carefully nondescript mercenaries who had attacked them, but Reid and Varric were doing all right – at least in terms of cleanliness. And now there was this nondescript armoured jackhole getting in their way… "I don't know who you are, friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here."

"I feel like I'm not your friend, pal, the way you say that," Reid said.

The mercenary snarled an order. "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

Slowly, another merc staggered out from around the corner and wheezed his last breath as he fell on his face into a pool of his own blood.

"Your men are dead," said a deep, smooth, slightly nasal voice, and Reid's attention was transfixed by the slender armoured figure rounding the corner and descending the stairs towards them – he saw bare feet first, and then the gracefully twining tattoos visible through gaps in the tight leather and steel armour, and then the enormous dark eyes, dark brows, pointy ears, and smooth white hair. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."

The elf moved and spoke with the unconscious confidence of a seasoned fighter, as he walked casually past the merc and towards Reid, who stared at him unabashed. There was a giant claymore strapped to his back, but he didn't draw it.

"You're going nowhere, slave!" roared the merc – who had apparently lost all sense of self-preservation, for he – without any back-up left – stomped forward and grabbed the elf's shoulder.

The tattoos flared lyrium blue, and before Reid could react, the elf spun, slamming his entire fist through the man's chest with a squelch. Reid jumped, still staring.

"I am not a slave," the elf declared, as the man fell dead at his bare feet, and turned back to Reid… recovering his cool instantly. "I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so numerous."

"So you're responsible for all this," Reid said. What an entrance! He was very impressed. By contrast, he'd just stood there like a lump. He'd have to make up for it later.

"Yes," said the elf. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters, seeking to recover a magister's lost property. Namely, myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"Glad I could help," Reid said. "I'm Reid, Reid Hawke. Carver Hawke, Varric Tethras, Isabela. Mind telling me a little more?"

Fenris answered his questions patiently while searching the body of the mercenary, then said: "My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you're not done with your questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I… will need your help."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "You send me into a trap, then ask for my help?" Of course he was going to help; slavery was even worse than being held in a Circle, especially Kirkwall's circle. But that didn't mean he could just be cajoled into doing anything for anyone. Even by a pretty face. And a sexy voice. …Well… thinking about it…

"If Anso had told you everything up front, would you have still taken the job?" Fenris asked sardonically. Well… the average person might not have; maybe the elf had grounds to be wary.

"Regardless, I am not lying to you now. I cannot win my freedom alone. Please, help me do this."

"Oh, all right," Reid said. "Where is he?"

"A mansion in Hightown," Fenris said, relaxing just a little with barely perceptible relief.

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When Fenris kicked the door in to the mansion and shouted Danarius's name, he wasn't entirely prepared for what happened next.

Well, he was a little prepared to be swarmed by shades; he was prepared for the dwarf to fire his crossbow and the younger human with the greatsword to charge and the slutty pirate to duck around to flank. He was not prepared for the redhead to pull the staff from his back and start spewing lightning bolts out of it with deadly accuracy and casual concentration. Fenris caught his breath in sudden apprehension, remembered trauma spiking fear and rage into his gut.

He swore to himself. He'd thought that the staff was for martial arts, but he should have guessed. The leader of this little band was a mage, a fucking apostate. With his luck he'd be an abomination, too. Would he never get away from them?

But he set his teeth. That could be dealt with later. For now, he'd set one mage on another and see what happened.

It was especially too bad because the human was handsome and funny, and seemed generally to be decent overall. At least he didn't appear to have any overt prejudices against elves, which was nice.

But when it became evident that Danarius had fled, Fenris left Hawke's little group to get outside, away from them, to think for at least a few minutes. It was difficult. His thoughts were all jumbled up.

First of all, Danarius was gone. It was horribly disappointing. There was no closure from this, and the tension of waiting for him to return would weigh on him – for he would return. On the other hand, Danarius was afraid of him, which was invigorating. No more was he a beaten dog to stand chained and obedient, but a wolf to be feared – and fear meant respect. But he would come back, and Fenris did not know when, and the uncertainty was going to pester him.

Secondly, what was he going to do about Hawke? Apostate or not, he had helped him without hardly a murmur, and had pulled his weight in the battle without resorting to blood magic. He seemed to take everything in stride – he hadn't even been overly surprised at Fenris himself, and in fact had seemed very interested in everything he did – though not in a weird, creepy way, like Danarius had… No judgement, just… curiosity, without salacious fascination. It was… nice. It was like no experience he'd ever had before, as far as he could remember.

He was still resentful that this man was also a mage. Why did it have to be this way?

"It never ends," he said, as he heard them coming out of the door.

"Hello to you too," Hawke said. "What never ends?"

"I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul."

"Wow," Hawke said with undertones of admiration; the dwarf next to him seemed to be making notes.

"And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage." He turned and advanced on Hawke with squared shoulders, wary of the mage suddenly turning hostile. "I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were."

Hawke shrugged. "It's to my benefit not to go casting spells in plain view of just anyone. Lightning tends not to be subtle."

"Indeed. Tell me, then: what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

"Survival," Hawke said simply.

"Yet I have seen many crimes done in the name of survival," Fenris rejoined.

"And how many of them were your own?" Hawke asked shrewdly.

Fenris pulled back his intensity; this sort of answers meant Hawke was not going to turn on him randomly. "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised."

"You know what," Hawke said slowly, "I think you might need it more than I do."

"I don't need it at all," Fenris said. "And I owe you a debt."

"Sod the debt," Hawke said. "I'm not taking the last coin of a man just trying to get free."

Fenris glared mildly at him. "Fine. Then instead: Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago." Hawke's eyes narrowed to amber slits. He could be intense too, when he wished, it seemed.

"You are not Danarius," Fenris said evenly, meeting that intensity head-on. "Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen."

"I have other apostate friends as well," Hawke said. "Will you have a problem with them?"

"Only if they have a problem with me."

That seemed to relax Hawke a lot. "I think I would like your company a lot, then, if you're willing." The younger human punched him lightly in the arm. "Shut up, Carver."

Fenris shrugged. "I have nothing better to do while I wait for Danarius to return."

"You're so certain he will? He must want more than just a runaway slave."

Fenris snorted. "He doesn't want me at all, just the markings on my skin. They are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet." Hawke's eyes really did flash with interest at that, drifting down to the tattoos across his throat and arms, and Fenris regretted explaining. But he would have had to explain sooner or later. Now if he could just get this mage not to see him as an experiment… "And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse."

"Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf," said Hawke, looking away from the tattoos and back into his eyes, smiling impishly at him, and Fenris, taken completely off-guard, laughed before he managed to turn it into a cough.

He hadn't just… laughed in a while. No one had made a joke for him instead of about him in a while.

And even that… was it a joke? Hawke – Reid did seem to be eyeing him closely, with maybe a slight tinge to his freckled cheeks. Hard to tell in the torchlight.

Best to move on. "The truth is, I know nothing of the ritual that placed these markings on me. It was Danarius's choice, one he now regrets."

"Well, if he comes back, let me know, and I'll help you kick his ass," Hawke said.

"Me too," said the slutty pirate with a wink.

"Sounds like fun," said the dwarf.

The younger human sighed and didn't say anything.

"Thanks for the back-up," Hawke said. "Very well, Fenris, I am planning something soon – maybe we can talk about it in more detail sometime. It's late, though, and I'd like to head home, if you've no more need of me."

"Good night, then," Fenris said, and watched them file off into the dark streets.

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When Reid went with Varric and Isabela to the Hanged Man – Carver went home – Isabela poured him a drink, then smirked at him. "You're gone."

"I beg your pardon," Reid drawled. "The hell are you talking about?"

She smirked some more, jerked her head in the direction of Hightown. "The elf, Fenris – I'd say it was love at first sight, if I believed in it. And I'd be jealous, if I cared. You wouldn't be willing to share, would you?"

"I don't know," Reid said. "You're hot, he's hot… how's a poor bi to choose?" She was hot. And hilarious, especially when something dirty popped into her head. He'd been enjoying bantering with her – but he hadn't yet made up his mind if he wanted to sleep with her.

"So don't choose," she purred. "Have us both at the same time."

"If he was into that."

"If he was into that," she agreed. "Are you into that?"

Good question. "To be perfectly candid, not really. I…" How to phrase it?

She waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'll clear the field for you, go for it. But if you want me, you know where to find me."

"Didn't know that was your type, Hawke," Varric said. "You always go for the broody ones?"

"I used to be a broody one," Reid said. "Didn't work as well with red hair and freckles. White hair and lyrium tattoos are a lot more appropriate. What's wrong with brooding?"

"He has a solid aesthetic," Isabela said critically. "Love the tattoos, as you say. And the fisting thing. Would you let him do that to you in bed?"

"Probably not in the chest," Reid said. "My body needs to keep the blood. But you're getting ahead of yourself, Bela dear. He doesn't like mages. Not just his specific mage, but all mages, in general."

"You're charming enough, I think you have a shot," Varric said. "You know, if you want it."

"I'm a sarcastic asshole," Reid said.

"Like I said," Varric said. "Charming enough."

"You don't like slavery, that's a big point in your favour," Isabela pointed out.

"Low bar, there, I'll try not to trip on it." Reid pushed away from the table. "Going to get some air, head home early. Good night, you two."

He went outside. The moon was dipping towards the horizon – morning would be coming soon. He flexed his wrists. Maybe he'd overextended in the battle, and he was pretty tired. But he wanted to walk a while and think about Fenris some more. He'd caught him by surprise with the flirting, and he'd laughed, and it had been spectacular. The man was breathtaking in every way, in every mood. Now if only he didn't dislike him so…

At least Fenris was interested in helping out with his jobs, his quests, his… life? Familiarity bred contempt, but it could also lead to disassembling prejudices and creating friendship. He could hope. Because damn what wouldn't he give to touch that lean, hungry face and watch it soften in affection.