Feb 082015
 

Title:  Afterthoughts (Something About Mushrooms 4/4)
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Fenris , Anders , M!Hawke
Rating: T (L2 N0 S0 V1 D2)
Warnings: Exhausted Anders is exhausted, purple!Hawke is a little too purple, Fenris reaches through somebody
Notes: Anders is tired. Hawke’s a dick. Fenris is not thrilled with any of this.


Anders swore he’d just finally closed his eyes, when the door smacked open, and the room filled with Hawke’s voice.

"Rise and shine, o you divine creature, light of my life!"

Fenris hauled the blanket over his head, with a loud groan, trying to remain as unconscious as possible.

Dragging himself to his feet, Anders stumbled into the front room, trailing the blanket still draped over his shoulders. "Hawke. Hawke, I love you, but shut up. Right now," he hissed. "I have been up all fucking night dealing with some critical shit, and I am not done yet. I’ve barely had a nap in two and a half days, and then I walked into this, last night, on my way to bed."

"Not done yet?" Hawke looked around. "I don’t see— Oh, in your bed. That kind of critical, is it?"

And that was when Anders lost it, the fade-glow crackling around his fist as it closed in the front of Hawke’s robe, hauling the other mage off the floor. "Isabela. So, don’t you start with me about that shit," Anders hissed, with the last breath that was his own.

"YOU WILL GO, NOW," Justice boomed. "THE ANGRY ELF IS ILL, AND THIS IS SOMEHOW YOUR FAULT."

"What, Fenris? I haven’t seen Fenris in days! What are you talking about? Put me down!" Hawke argued, quietly. If that was Fenris, Anders was right, he shouldn’t be making cracks about that. Justice was probably the better end of any thumping he might get for a gibe like that.

"WE HAVE NOT SLEPT BECAUSE OF THE ANGRY ELF, WHICH IS NOW ALSO YOUR FAULT."

And then there were suddenly more hands than parties present should have, as a translucent glowing blue one sprung from Justice’s abdomen and spread up across his chest. A quiet, soothing sound issued from somewhere behind Justice.

With Justice distracted, Anders regained his wits and promptly lost the benefits of Justice’s strength and control, dropping Hawke on the floor, without warning. Fenris leaned out from behind Anders at the sudden thumping and cursing.

"You can thank me later, Hawke," Fenris encouraged, retrieving his hand and catching Anders as the mage slumped, exhausted and way past his limits. "But, right now, you’re going to help me put the healer in bed."

"How is any of this my fault?" Hawke demanded, getting up and taking Anders’s legs with him.

"I tried to clean the foyer, because of your years of incessant whining. It was trapped." That was sufficiently vague, Fenris thought. "I was poisoned. I came here."

"You cleaned?" Hawke teased, obviously ready to bring the whole of his wit to bear on the subject.

"I know where Anders keeps his keys. I know where you sleep. I don’t think I would pursue the subject, if I were you. There are far worse things than death." Fenris peeled back the rumpled blanket with his foot, before they deposited Anders on the bed.

Fenris stepped back and let Hawke tuck Anders in. "Stay with him, Hawke. Make sure he sleeps. And get him a warmer blanket, you cad, it’s freezing in here."

"He hasn’t bought himself a better blanket, and I’m the cad?" Hawke shot back.

"He doesn’t think of himself, and you know it." Fenris glared as if he meant to cut a hole in Hawke with his eyes. Hawk, of all people, should have known better, should have been better.

"You’re starting to sound like you care."

"He just finished saving my life. Don’t get used to it." It was a bit of an exaggeration, but the drama would serve his purposes much more cleanly. "When he wakes up, tell him I’m fine, and I’ve gone home to sleep. And if he’s going to come barging in to check on me, like I know he will, not to wake me up."

"I was going to take the two of you up Sundermount with me, this afternoon—" Hawke started.

Fenris grabbed his cloak and shot one more glare at Hawke. "He needs to sleep. I need to sleep. Take the blood mage and your idiot brother with you."

Stomping off didn’t work well, without boots, Fenris had noticed, so he shut the door of the clinic forcefully after himself — just loud enough for Hawke to have no mistake about it, but hopefully not loud enough to wake the abomination. He swung the cloak over his shoulders, lifting the hood to cover his ears, before he set out back toward Hightown. There was no sense in inviting a fight, down here, after a night like that. Strangely, he didn’t want to go. Or, more to the point, he wanted to take Anders with him. He owed the mage that, at least — a long morning in a huge, thick, soft bed, with piles of ratty old down blankets. Something better than a few hours in a tiny, lumpy bed with Hawke.

They’d been dating for years, now, and Fenris had always figured there must be some amazing secret side of Hawke that only Anders knew, because there was no way anyone would spend more than a night in Hawke’s company otherwise. Says the man who has been following him through the Marches for six years… But, no, they were mages, both, and they had some strange and totally foreign ways with each other. Some secret language only they spoke. He didn’t understand, and he wouldn’t ask. Mages. Whatever.

But, he’d go and buy a bed, once he’d finished sleeping off the last bit of skittering in the corners of his vision. He’d buy the best bed that could be made to fit in that damp, little room, and a fine warm blanket. He’d made a fool of himself, and he’d be left owing nothing for the privilege of so doing.

In the bright light of morning, Fenris ducked through a few alleys and under a fence, before letting himself back in through a window. He’d take the crates of bones and filth out, after he slept. This would never be the world he wanted, but just maybe, it could be better than this reeking heap of mushrooms and decay.