Chapter Text
Anders flinched.
"Try to hold still," Marian pleaded. "You're just making it worse when you jerk away like that."
"If you'd just--ow--let me do it..." he complained.
"You're not supposed to strain yourself, remember?"
"How is this NOT straining myself?"
She lowered the hairbrush and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll try to keep you relaxed." She moved closer to where he was sitting and lightly kissed his neck. He leaned against her as she continued to work at his hair.
"Varric wrote you, didn't he?"
"Mhm"
"That's funny. Back at Skyhold, he told me he didn't know--"
"Ow."
"(Sorry!) ...know where to find you. Come to think of it, though, he DID say it a little loudly."
Anders flinched again, and she moved to work on a different tangle. They were both silent for a while, not counting light protests over pulled hair.
"I know you won't tell me about what happened in the bandit camp," Marian finally said, "but how did--"
"Ow."
"How did they catch you?" She smiled. "If it's not too embarrassing of course."
"Not for me at least...it was one of YOUR Wardens who tricked...ow!."
"Archer? Brownish hair? Weird tattoo on his face?"
"Ow! Yes, why do you--Ow!"
Marian was working at the knot faster and faster, her mind drifting from what she was doing as she angrily contemplated the full extent of the traitorous Warden's--
"OW!" Anders tried again. Then, more melodramatically, "Just cut it off already and spare me the pain!"
"Shh," she forced a smirk. "You'll scare the poor passers-by." Tracing her fingers backward from the knot she was working on, she gently rubbed at his head with her fingertips. "Last time most of them saw you, tangled hair was the least of your worries."
He put his hand over hers. "Marian...do you think I should have kept the beard?"
"...the...what? No!" Before she could help herself, she'd dropped the brush.
Anders was laughing. "You should see your face right now."
She blushed. "You should have seen YOUR face! I don't know how you put up with that...hairy creature for so long!"
He tensed and was suddenly quiet. She felt a hand on her knee and quickly put hers over it.
"It's okay," she murmured, squeezing his shoulder with her other hand. "I'm here now."
Most of the knots had been worked out, so instead of looking for the brush, Marian began to run her fingers through his hair, gathering it up at the base of his neck, letting it slip free and fall around his shoulders, then gathering it up again. Eventually, she would part it down the middle and tie it back in a low ponytail, but he was responding so well to her touch that she continued to stroke his hair, from forehead to neck, as he leaned against her once more.