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The light filtering in through the crack in the curtains definitely had that particular washed-out, reflective quality that meant there was snow on the ground outside, thought Fenris.
Fenris did not particularly care for snow.
Seheron had never achieved snow. Seheron rarely achieved temperatures below ‘sweltering’, being mostly jungle. As far as Fenris was concerned that was what weather should be like, and the refusal of the more southerly countries to admit this was frustrating.
He closed the eye he’d deigned to open, but the fragile sunbeam persisted in casting its watery brightness over his face. He considered turning over, but the problem with that was the bulky body wrapped around him from behind.
He still… wasn’t quite used to waking up tucked against a broad chest, warm breath ruffling through his hair with every raspy snore the man behind him let out. It had only been perhaps a month since this had become the new normal, since the pressure and the desire had burst out of him in a way he’d been sure would ruin everything and instead made it better. Everything was new, really. Sometimes it was so much he still felt the urge to run away.
This morning was not one of those times, he was sleepily pleased to discover, not least because he could feel the wintery chill creeping in from outside to press at his cheekbones. He’d had his fill of snowy days in the old mansion, with the wind whistling in from every chink in the neglected brickwork and the blankets he’d pulled off the unused beds smelling musty and mildewy. It had never quite been warm enough , no matter how many of them he’d claimed or how big a fire he’d built, and the memory made him shrink back into the heavy warmth of comforters and body heat that currently enveloped him.
The movement made the source of said body heat shift and grunt faintly, then yawn in a way disturbingly reminiscent of his mabari hound and press closer. It had very quickly become clear that Theodore Hawke was not one of those people who struggled to get comfortable when cuddled up to their lover. In fact, from the way the dog reacted, it was evident that Fenris’ new place as the little spoon had previously been filled by him . Fenris had not been quite sure what to make of that, especially since the animal’s name was Fenrir .
Theo had assured him, awkward and earnest in a way Fenris couldn’t help finding oddly endearing, that not only had the dog been named that since well before Theo had known Fenris existed and was usually called Fen besides, they’d been sleeping tied up in each other since Fen was a tiny puppy. Fen himself had applied a slobbery tongue to Fenris’ hand and given him the sad eyes, and Fenris had been somewhat astonished at how quickly the looming discomfort and humiliation had retreated sufficiently that he could make a dry joke about it clearly being fated.
The sound of Theo’s laughter made his heart feel like someone had filled it with bubbles.
Where was the dog? His snores usually drowned out Theo’s, since absolutely nothing had worked to persuade him he couldn’t sleep on the bed at all. Carefully tilting one ear towards the door picked up the sound of muffled voices and the clickity-click of canine claws on tiled flooring; playing with Sandal, then. How late was it? The sunbeam that had woken him was unhelpful, and he’d not yet learned to decipher the grandfather clock Varric had gifted Hawke for a birthday a year or so ago.
While he was wondering, Theo yawned again, exhaled strongly enough that Fenris felt his hair ruffle, and rolled his hips forward to- Fenris jerked forward, startled, still unused to direct reminders that their relationship could be sexual. The movement evidently pulled Theo properly into wakefulness; he grunted, moved away again, and one of his hand patted clumsily at Fenris’ chest.
“Mmf- wha’- y’kay?”
Fenris, embarrassed and a little angry at himself, pushed himself up into a proper sitting position and immediately regretted it as the cold struck his skin. Theo peered up at him, one eye still gummed shut with sleep, his usually perfectly-groomed pale strawberry blond hair in disarray across his forehead, his cheeks flushed; he looked warm, cosy, kissable.
Fenris was allowed to kiss him now.
“...Fenris?”
Before he could talk himself out of it, Fenris bent and pressed his lips against Theo’s, the angle awkward and upside-down. Theo huffed a surprised little laugh, but kissed back as best he could before Fenris pulled away, then smiled.
Fenris… smiled back, before he even realised he was. That reaction made Theo’s smile wider, and he pulled himself up to sit beside the elf, gently leaning their shoulders together.
“Did I disturb you?” he asked.
“I was awake,” Fenris replied, a little evasive. He leaned slightly closer to Theo’s solid presence, and was rewarded with a muscular arm slung around his shoulders. Isabela was fond of making suggestive jokes about their differing physiques; both of them wielded massive two-handed blades, but where Fenris was built as slender as most elves and his muscles were steel wires, Theo was built on a massive scale, his chest a barrel and his biceps as wide around as Fenris’ thighs. As was to be expected, Isabela had plenty to say about what this meant for their sex life; Fenris would never let her know the real reason he liked it so much. She really did not need to know how safe it made him feel to be able to be so completely wrapped up in someone he loved.
“...Hm. I wonder how late it is,” Theo said idly. “Still morning, I think.”
“It’s snowed,” Fenris told him, unable to keep the disgruntlement out of his tone. “It will be terrible outside.”
“Snow isn’t that bad,” Theo returned, shifting his arm so he could run his fingers slowly through Fenris’ hair. “You enjoyed it when we had that snowball fight last winter.”
Fenris considered this, his head slowly tipping into the contact. “Only because I successfully buried Anders in a snowbank.”
“Yes, well,” Theo says, trying and failing to muffle his smile, “You can always try the same thing again.”
“Hmm,” Fenris said, unconvinced; by now he’d worked himself across by degrees until he was leaning against Theo’s chest, one cheek pressed against rough, pale hair. Theo’s hand had wandered to trace one of the lyrium tattoos along his arm, fingertips running up and down, up and down. They tingled, and Fenris felt his arm muscles tense automatically, poised to push the intruding hand away; he forced them to relax, determined not to overreact. If there was anyone who could touch his marks so casually, it was Theo.
...Who had noticed his discomfort, and moved his hand away already, settling it instead on Fenris’ hip. Fenris hated the relief that washed over him.
“We should get up at some point,” said Theo, after a while.
Fenris, who had been dwelling a little on his own foolishness, was abruptly distracted by the deeply unwelcome notion that he might have to leave the bed. He immediately shifted himself so he could wrap his arms around Theo’s waist.
“Why? Kirkwall isn’t even pretty in the snow, and you have almost nothing to do today. I saw your diary.”
“ Almost nothing,” Theo said, but he was already pulling Fenris onto his lap properly, pressing a soft kiss against his temple. The erection that had startled Fenris earlier was gone; part of him expressed relief, but another, increasingly loud part was informing him he’d missed an opportunity. He decided he wasn’t going to miss any more.
“A meeting with a pandering Orlesian fool where you speak to him about things he does not care about is not worth snow. There are better ways to spend your time.”
Theo buried his face into Fenris’ shoulder, scraping the stubble he could never properly get rid of across the skin, arms tightening around the elf’s slimmer body, and made the mumbling, sighing, muttering grumble sound that Fenris knew perfectly well meant he’d won. Not that it had been a hard fight.
“What about breakfast?”
“Bodahn will look in eventually. Tell him to bring it here.”
“Breakfast in bed,” Theo mused, planting another line of soft kisses along Fenris’ jaw, idle, like it was the equivalent of tapping his foot while he thought. Something about the casualness was reassuring. “I haven’t had breakfast in bed since- since I was a child and came down with something.”
“About time, then,” Fenris told him, a touch triumphant perhaps, stretching and settling himself more comfortably on Theo’s lap. If they were indeed staying in bed, then he wasn’t about to give up this particular spot any time soon. Nor was he about to point out that he himself had never had breakfast in bed at all. If Theo hadn’t already guessed, he wasn’t the man Fenris knew he was.
Theo had started stroking his hair again, carding calloused fingers through the pale strands, tugging gently at tangles until they unravelled; his hand brushed past an ear, made it flick and tremble, and Fenris could feel the way his amusement rumbled through his chest. Fenris flicked the ear again deliberately, an exaggerated nonverbal brush-off, and was treated to a rub along the edge up to the very point that made his whole body shiver in response.
He wasn’t used to feeling like this. He wasn’t used to wanting and then being allowed to have .
But this seemed like one of those opportunities he’d decided not to pass up.
He reached up and pulled Theo’s head down to kiss him, hard.
“ Ah-” Theo said, when he was allowed up for air; he sounded slightly dazed, and just as wanting as Fenris felt. “When you said there were better ways to spend your time- did you have something in particular in mind?”
Slowly, Fenris smiled.