Got a prompt on Tumblr asking if Sebastian and Fenris from Eye of the Storm could hook up. And immediately thought of a time when it could have occurred. Had to wrestle with the story a bit to get it to come out without either too much exposition, or too much angst (or both), and this is the end result.

Sebastian started at the sound of a loud knock on the door to his room. His deerhound, Gyfeillgar, a descendant of Anders' old dog Ganwyn, scrambled to her feet and barked excitedly. Someone the dog recognized, then, he realized, even before a familiar voice called out.

"Sebastian – open up. I know you're in there."

Fenris' voice. He rolled off the bed and stumbled over to the door. There was another thunderous knocking just as he reached it.

"Sebastian! Open up or I'll open this door myself," the elf called out.

That drew a faint smile to Sebastian's face; he had little doubt the elf would make good on the threat if necessary. "I'm opening it, just a moment..." he called back, and fumbled with the bar that held the door shut.

The door swung open. Fenris took a half-step forward, stopping in the open doorway with Gyfeillgar fawning at his feet. He stroked her head as he ran a sharply evaluative eye over Sebastian; a look that made him glad he'd actually rose from his bed long enough to bathe and change that morning, though his clothes were rumpled from lying on the bed most of the day.

Fenris looked much as he always did – his hair having been white as long as Sebastian had known him, there was no real change to it, other than the length at which he now wore it, a long sleek ponytail. There were, all told, little signs in him of ageing – slightly deeper lines across his forehead and bracketing his mouth, crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, a slight loosening of the skin of his neck. Still as handsome as he had ever been, handsomer if anything, as he now had the self-assured posture and manner that he'd been lacking in his youth.

"You look better than I'd feared," said Fenris, the head-to-toe examination over. "Ewan asked me to look in on you; he and Niawen have been worried about you, you know."

Sebastian grimaced and stepped back, gesturing for Fenris to enter. "I suppose they've been having regular reports from the servants since Anders' died," he said, then sighed and scrubbed at his hair for a moment. "I won't say they're without reason to worry, not when..." he trailed off, looking around the room.

"Not when you've barely left this room in the three months since lighting his pyre?" Fenris asked, voice gentle.

Sebastian winced, and nodded. "Yes. It's just..." he broke off again, shaking his head, and turned his back to the elf, unable to continue. "Seventeen years together, and now he's gone," he choked out, fighting back tears.

He heard the door close, then Fenris took ahold of his shoulders, turning him back around and pulling him into a hug. "It's okay to grieve," Fenris said quietly. "Go ahead and cry."

So he did, leaning on the elf and letting the tears flow. Not that it was the first time he'd cried since bringing home Anders' empty, tainted shell and seeing it consigned to the waiting pyre. Far from it. But it was the first time he'd openly shared his grief with another, dampening the shoulder of a friend instead of the pillow on his bed, or the fur of one of their – his – pets.

At some point Fenris guided him over to sit down on the edge of the bed, hand rubbing soothingly up and down Sebastian's back, holding him until the storm of tears had ended, and even afterwards, while he just leaned on the elf's shoulder and felt... comforted. Not alone any more.

After a while he sighed, and straightened up. "Thank you," he said, voice still thick from crying.

"You're welcome," Fenris said, and smiled, one of those honest, open smiles he'd learned to make some time in his first few years with Zevran. "And now you are to go wash your face, while I fetch us a tray from the kitchen, and then we will talk."

"All right," Sebastian agreed, and went off to his bathing chamber while the elf disappeared off to the kitchens, the deerhound following along at his heels with tail waving. The elf returned to his bedroom not long after he did, carrying a large tray in both hands and without the dog. There were two bowls of fragrant stewed chicken with vegetables, a plate of slices of bread baked just that day, thickly spread with fresh butter from the village, and a dessert of stewed berries spooned over sweet cornbread and topped with clotted cream. Sebastian did not feel much appetite at first, but he couldn't refuse to sit down and eat with Fenris. He picked at his food at first, but a glare from Fenris made him take a few real mouthfuls of food, and once he'd done that, it was easier to continue eating normally than not.

Fenris chatted while they ate, not expecting or even waiting for any response from Sebastian but just talking, on a number of subjects – how well his vineyards were doing this year, the latest news from Kirkwall, gossip about the other nobles of Starkhaven. Niawen, he informed Sebastian, was likely pregnant again, though she was waiting until the first few dangerous months had passed before making any formal announcement. And his favourite mare had thrown twin stallions, both with the grey-speckled coat and creamy mane and tail of their infamous grandsire Ari.

"How is Ari?" Sebastian asked, smiling slightly as he remembered the day he'd gifted the horse to Fenris. There had been a near-instant bond between the two, and the stallion had gone on to be the premiere stallion of Fenris' horse-breeding efforts.

Fenris smiled. "Very well. I rode him here; perhaps tomorrow you'll join me for a ride and can see for yourself."

"I'd like that," Sebastian said, then looked curiously at the elf. "How long are you planning to say? Not that I am in any rush to get rid of you, you understand..."

Fenris nodded. "Of course. And the answer is, as long as it takes for me to be sure you're sufficiently recovered from Anders' death and won't do yourself a mischief, either intentionally or by neglecting yourself."

Sebastian flushed, both touched that the elf would want to do so, and embarrassed that he clearly felt it necessary. And... he couldn't deny that it wasn't. No, not intentionally, not when, unlike Anders, he was still hale and hearty, his health as good as it had ever been, bar a lengthy period of little sleep and not eating properly. But he had lost considerable condition over the last three months, yes, and really should be taking better care of himself. It was just... so hard to care about anything, with Anders gone.

Fenris pushed away his now-empty bowl and rose to his feet. "Go have a bath, Sebastian – I'll take care of this and then go check on my horses, and then come back again," he said, and started moving dishes back onto the tray. Sebastian was startled to see that he'd eaten pretty much everything that had been set before him.

"I bathed this morning," he protested.

"Bathe again. A good hot soak bath. I'll be back in an hour," Fenris told him sternly, picked up the tray, and left.

Sebastian did as told, filling the capacious tub with steaming hot water and on impulse adding some of the bath oil he had not used since Anders' death, the bergamot scented one that Anders had so loved him using. He was tense when he first got into the tub, but the heat and the lemony scent soon relaxed him, the scent in particular making him remember some particularly memorable moments over the years with Anders. He cried again, but quietly, lying back in the tub with tears leaking out from under closed lids rather than the outright sobbing of earlier. The water was cooling by the time he sat up, rinsed his face clean, then rose from the bath. He wrapped a towel around his waist, then returned to the bedroom.

To his surprise Fenris was already there, sitting in a chair and reading. The elf looked up at him as he entered. "I was beginning to think I should look in and be sure you were all right," Fenris said, closing and putting aside his book, then rose to his feet, looking Sebastian over again. "You look better," he said approvingly.

"I feel at least a little better," Sebastian agreed. "Err... has a room been arranged for you for the night?" he asked, feeling rather self-conscious to be dressed in just a towel before Fenris. True, the elf had seen him dressed in substantially less a time or two at festivals and suchlike, but that was... well, there was a huge difference between wearing nothing but a loincloth for the harvest fest, and being near-naked in the privacy of his bedroom. He felt him blushing as Fenris continued to look steadily at him.

"I will be sleeping here," the elf said, to his surprise.

"Here...? But..."

"You have been too much alone since Anders died. I will be spending the nights here," Fenris said firmly, and gestured to where his saddlebags were set on the floor in a corner of the room. "I will change too; it is almost time for bed anyway," he said, then turned his back and walked over, his hands already working at the laces at the neck of his shirt.

Sebastian hastily turned away, walking over to his own wardrobe. He quickly pulled on a clean nightshirt, only removing the towel once he was covered. He kept his back turned, giving the elf time to change.

"I am changed," Fenris said, voice amused, and Sebastian turned back around.

It was... decidedly odd, to see the elf dressed for bed. They'd shared a camp at night more than once, both years ago back in Kirkwall when adventuring with Hawke, and occasionally in the years since, notably during the wars. But Fenris had usually shared a tent with Zevran, and even when they did sleep together for one reason or another, it had been in partial armour, or at least well clothed, ready in case of unexpected attack, not in nightshirts.

Fenris was not in the least perturbed by their state of dress, and walked over to the bed, turning down the sheets. "Which side do you prefer?" he asked.

"Err... furthest from the window," Sebastian said hesitantly and walked around the bed, Fenris passing him as they changed sides. Fenris climbed into bed and lay down without any hesitation. Sebastian joined him, feeling, if anything, even more self-conscious. He lay almost rigidly awake, not finally relaxing and falling asleep himself until long after Fenris' breathing had evened out in sleep.

He woke late the next morning, having slept soundly for the first time in months, to find Fenris sitting up in bed beside him, already dressed and reading again from his book. Fenris insisted on him getting up and dressed, eating, and then going on a long rambling walk around the nearby countryside with the elf. He was out of breath by the time they returned to the farmhouse; months of doing little but lying in bed grieving had put him in poor condition. He meekly obeyed all Fenris' suggestions – mildly phrased orders – about sleep and diet and exercise over the next few days.

"You're looking much better now," Fenris said one evening as they prepared for bed.

"I'm feeling much better," Sebastian admitted, before turning away to change into his nightshirt. He'd taken off his shirt and was reaching for his nightshirt when a hand touched the skin of his back, making him yelp and flinch, then spin around, eyes wide. They widened even further when he saw Fenris standing right there, dressed in nothing but his smalls. "F-f-fenris?" he stuttered, shocked.

A wry smile twisted Fenris' lips, and he glanced away and down for a moment, cheeks flushing slightly. "You're looking very well," the elf said again, quietly, then turned back to meet Sebastian's eyes. There was heat, there – heat, and a question, or an invitation.

"Oh..." said Sebastian, softly, standing frozen.

He had always been attracted to the elf, from the first time he'd ever seen him, pacing along at Hawke's side, graceful as a hunting beast and wary of everything. It had been the elf's physical presence and beauty that first attracted his attention, and then, later, as he grew to knew Fenris better and they became friends, it had been far more than just that which drew him; the elf's intelligence, his questioning mind... But he'd had his vows, back in Kirkwall, and Fenris had his own reasons to have no wish for a physical relationship with anyone. And he'd been content in their close friendship. After Kirkwall... well, they'd gone their separate ways at first, and by the time Fenris had appeared in Starkhaven, there was Anders, whom Sebastian was already falling in love with, though it had been some time before he'd realized, or at least admitted to himself, that he was. And for Fenris, in time, there had been Zevran, who had taught him not to fear.

"Zevran..." he began to say, mind filling rapidly with the thought of what a bad, bad idea it might be to become involved with the lover of an assassin.

Fenris smiled. "Who do you think told me that I should come spend some time with you? He and I have a very open relationship, though he is the one who most often takes advantage of that. How did you think we fathered our heirs?"

That distracted Sebastian for a moment, as he frowned in confusion. "I assumed they were adopted..."

Fenris shook his head. "No. Philena and Jehn are twins of one birth, but Philena is Zevran's daughter and Jehn is my son," he said, then held up one hand when Sebastian started to ask a second question. "Philena is my heir and Jehn is Zevran's because we wished it done so. And Daren we're not sure which of us fathered, as he takes very much after their mother. If something were to happen to Philena or Jehn, he would inherit. But enough talk of heirs; it is not talk I wish right now," Fenris said, and stepped closer.

He could have refused, could have stepped aside, avoided the elf's approach – but twenty-three years of friendship and, yes, attraction, bade otherwise. He stood still, as Fenris moved closer yet, reaching up to twine fingers in Sebastian's greying hair and pull him down the slight distance needed for a kiss.

Sebastian shivered, then settled again, his own arms rising to wrap around the near-naked elf, as heat flared between them. It should have felt wrong, he thought, after almost seventeen years of Anders. It did for a fleeting moment, but then Fenris pressed up against him, the elf's mouth dropping open enough to invite exploration, and it began to feel very right indeed.

Fenris' hands were soon at the laces of his leggings, helping him remove his remaining clothes, and then the two of them were on the bed together, naked. He was nervous at first, but Fenris was not, and after a while he forgot anything but the slide of flesh against flesh, the desire to touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed. They were a moving, surging tangle of limbs and lips and fingers, with murmurs of reassurance, moans and cries of pleasure, a warm chuckle of amusement. And in the end, a long crest of pleasure, followed by tears again, and further comforting.

He felt better than he had since even before Anders' death, as he finally curled up for sleep, his and Fenris' legs still tangled together, their arms around each other. His love was dead, and that had not changed. But he was reminded now that there could still be lovers, and pleasure, even passion. There was still warmth in the world, even if it was a banked flame compare to the bonfire of emotions he'd felt with Anders, and still people who loved him, and whom he loved. It was enough.