By the time his last patient had left the next day, Anders felt like he could face the rest of the group over cards at the Hanged Man. He knew that he would have to bear up under some pitying looks, but he would have to face that sooner or later. At least after talking to Fenris he felt confident that no one was going to outright rub his face in it.
In fact, after he had time to think it through, the elf's visit had been oddly heartening. For one, it was good to know that even someone that he thought blindly hated him could still take his side over Hawke's. He'd never thought that would happen with Fenris. Which was the second heartening thing… it was possible the Tevinter didn't hate him quite as much as he thought.
He'd been assuming that Fenris wanted to see him made Tranquil ever since they had that conversation, and the thought that the elf had hated him that much had fueled a lot of his own dislike. Granted he still thought the elf was unreasonable about the templars and mage freedom, but he certainly couldn't begrudge anyone their revenge fantasies when he'd indulged in a few of his own.
He could feel Justice's approval at the direction his thoughts were taking and he grimaced. He and the spirit had never seen eye to eye regarding the ex-slave. All the spirit saw when he looked at Fenris was a life of injustice gift-wrapped in lyrium. So Anders' changing views on both Hawke and Fenris were generating a lot of told-you-so attitude from the presence in his head.
By the time he had cleaned himself up and made his way to the tavern most of the gang were already gathered around the table in Varric's suite. The first person he saw was Hawke who, despite the fact that Varric was technically the host, always sat at the head of the table facing the door. He looked up as Anders got to the doorway and gave him that familiar cheeky grin. In spite of everything Anders felt a little flutter in his stomach and he hated himself for it.
Everyone looked over and greeted him just as if nothing were different, but things were different and it was obvious just from the seating arrangements.
Varric and Isabella were seated opposite each other in the middle of the table, which was normal for them since they took turns dealing and it was easier from there. Merrill was seated at the far end from Hawke, because she was the only one of the party besides Sebastian who wasn't too paranoid to sit with her back to the door. Sebastian himself was seated to Hawke's left as always, but there was an empty spot to his right.
Previously whoever got there first out of Fenris and Anders would be sitting in that spot. Even after whatever had happened that night between the ex-slave and the warrior, Fenris had still always sat near him if possible. Tonight however, he looked quite comfortable sitting between Varric and Merrill.
That left Anders to choose between the open seat next to Hawke, or the spot between Isabella and Merrill. He held the warrior's gaze as he deliberately sat down between the pirate and the little blood mage, so he didn't miss the slight narrowing of eyes and tightening of the jaw that showed Hawke was not happy with his choice. But the warrior noticed him noticing and smirked meaningfully at him. Anders flushed and looked away, suddenly not sure if he was ready for this.
Even as he thought that he felt a hand on his leg give him a pat and then a reassuring squeeze. Startled, he turned to the pirate in time to see her give him a wink before she lifted her hand. Anders straightened in his seat and faced the table to find Fenris looking at him. The white-haired elf was already wearing the look of bland indifference he always put on for card games, but there was a certain, unaccustomed warmth in those moss green eyes as he gave the healer a little nod of acknowledgment.
Rather abruptly Anders felt his spirits lift as a small smile crept onto his face for the first time in weeks. Apparently he had just been indoctrinated into the fucked-and-dumped-by-Hawke club. The hazing had been a bitch, but at least the members were all really good-looking. Picking his cards up from the table, he turned his attention to figuring out what to do with the hand he was dealt.