Fenris was so used to being alone that spending hours at a time in the mansion didn’t faze him all that much. What he wasn’t used to was having all of these people, some he liked, some he didn’t, surrounding him. A random collection of misfits that Hawke collected on his adventures.
Everyone was here except for Anders, partaking in what Hawke was calling a ‘Spring cleaning party’. The mage had burst in, Orana, Bodahn and Sandal in tow, carrying trays of food and large kegs of wine. He had begun setting up the trays and fussing over placement while Fenris, bewildered, watched.
When asked what all this was about, the mage had straightened his shoulders and fixed him with uncharacteristically stern look.
“Fenris, there are rotting corpses in your hallways.” Hawke crossed his large arms. “It is disgusting and makes everything smell, so we’re having a party to clean your house.”
Fenris was standing in one of the nearby shadows when this was said, and his raised eyebrow was probably missed by the mage.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Everyone will be here in about an hour.” He grinned. “We’ll have fun.”
Perhaps they were having fun, but Fenris was still stuck on the fact that there were so many people tromping around his home. Merril was in a distant corner, humming a soft tune while poking at the cobwebs he hadn’t bothered to destroy. Avaline and Varric were lugging skeletal remains and tossing the bones into a sack while Isabela made lewd jokes. Sebastian was doing the least amount of helping that could actually be considered helping, running a feather duster over the same section of railing over and over again.
Hawke, however, was downright fanatical in his mission to clean. Already he had righted fallen furniture and soaked the floors with water (Conjured in the palm of his hand, no less), and now he was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet with a stiff brush. Bubbles lifted the grime from the carpet in steaks of red and black.
Fenris wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing. Everyone had chosen a job at random, it seemed.
“You look confused, Fenris.” Sebastian had completely abandoned his dusting and had sidled up next to him, blue eyes fixed on Hawke with a tiny smirk.
“I am not used to so many…People.” He tucked himself further into the shadows of the staircase, trying to decide which one of them to look at. He settled on Tarjal, whose short white hair had always amused him compared to Carver’s dark black.
“I see you staring at our fearless leader when he isn’t paying attention, you know.” The Prince sounded smug. “Perhaps you should put your efforts towards righting the wrongs you have committed. If you did that as intensely as you stared you would be a great force for good.” Sebastian chuckled and went back to the railing, where he began to dust a little further up. It occurred to the elf that Sebastian might have been attempting a joke.
All of this commotion… it seemed frivolous. Unessary. Isabela was now sitting on Hawke’s back while he scrubbed, legs crossed.
“I’m riding side saddle.” She giggled. “Don’t ever say I don’t pay attention to you, Hawke.”
“I’m starting to regret inviting you.” But he was laughing. None of them appeared to care that Fenris wasn’t helping, or that he had hidden himself in darkness and watched with wary eyes as they scrubbed, swept, and cleansed his house.
It went on like that for an hour before they trickled out. Merril went first, back to her hovel in the alienage. Then Varric and Isabela left together, and Sebastian not long after that. Avaline took the sack of bones and clothes with a wrinkled nose and waved goodbye.
Then it was only Tarjal Hawke and his insane notions.
“So are you going to come out of there now?”
Fenris blinked at him. “What?”
“You’ve been hiding in the corner like a frightened cat.” Hawke tossed some more cleaning supplies into a bucket, then stood and arched his back into a stretch. Fenris felt his eyes fallow the curve of Hawke’s chest.
“Cleaning the house was not necessary.”
“Says you.” He chuckled. “The place was terrible, Fenris. No one should have to live in that state.”
“I’ve lived in worse.”
Hawke didn’t seem to have an answer to that, so he stooped and picked up his bucket. “I’ll be over tomorrow to get the trays. Bodahn would have my head if I didn’t bring them back. That smirk was back on Hawke’s lips. Warmly inviting. Fenris lowered his eyes.
He was surprised when Hawke was suddenly there, body too close for comfort, eyes fixed on him. The darkness had stolen over his face, leaving half brightly illuminated by torchlight and the other clouded by the twisting shadows. Fenris tried to back up, but his skin was already pressed against the cold stone of the wall.
Hawke gazed at him intently for a moment before leaning in ever so slightly and pressing those lips against his. Fenris didn’t move. Couldn’t. If he moved then something might break this strangely enticing moment.
Not moving seemed to have the same effect, because Hawke broke away and moved a few steps back, to a safer distance. He smiled brightly. “See you tomorrow, Fenris.”
And then he left. But as he was walking through the door, Fenris felt his foot take a step forward to fallow. He blinked in surprise at how bright the place seemed.
He stood there like that for a long while, half in the shadows and half out, wondering what the next step would be.
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.....Well that got away from me, didn't it? XD
Hmmz. I suspected as much, because you really get that hint... I would interpret it as sexual abuse, although Danarius speaks of 'affection' from Fenris' side... I will give it a little more thought.
Retour en haut
My Hawke is pushing me aside and grinning at a very nervous elf.
)
