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It’s often hard to tell the time in Darktown; one has to listen hard for the Chantry bells’ descending echo and peer through what little sources of light there are for evidence of sunshine or moonlight.
When Anders’ eyes crack open against his will, he doesn't know what time it is. He doesn't even know if it's morning or night. All he knows is that his bed is not empty and that the flat length of Fenris’ nose is being nuzzled furiously against his neck.
That must be what woke him then. Anders waits for his lover to settle so he can go back to sleep, but even after many long moments, Fenris doesn't. He nuzzles on, moving his face against Anders’ long, stubbly throat like he just can’t get enough. His ears wiggle too, like little bat wings flapping against Anders’ ticklish skin, and his calves rub slow against Anders’ much longer legs in cricket-like circles. All the while, that deep, rumbling purr shakes his chest, vibrating throughout his diaphragm and shaking his entire body along with it. It shakes Anders beneath him, too. The sensation is a rare one, to say the least.
Anders is in awe. Now that he’s awake enough to realize what Fenris is doing, he finds himself somewhere between affectionate laughter and that deep heartache of visiting the tiny town Chantry with his mother for the first time and knowing suddenly that there was a god who loved him.
Fenris is a man who keeps to himself. He’s private, even with his lover. Anders has long since accepted this fact. It doesn't bother him much; Fenris shares what he does and he keeps what he doesn't and that is entirely for him to decide. It’s hard now for the both of them, sharing their lives as free men. Like Fenris keeps his thoughts, Anders keeps his privacy in his own ways - bathing alone, dressing in a separate room, occasionally taking a meal to himself… This is the way they must function.
But... Fenris sometimes hides himself in ways that Anders can't imagine doing. Where Anders keeps his emotions on his sleeve, finally able to properly share how he feels and understand those feelings too, Fenris instead often shutters his expression and shares only snippets of thoughts. Sometimes it feels like this isn't even on purpose. Sometimes Anders meets Fenris’ eyes, watches him try to convey his feelings, and feels that Fenris’ privacy is entirely accident. And when Fenris is confused or frustrated that Anders doesn't know his thoughts… Well, perhaps he isn't always as coy as Anders’ own irritation will make him want to believe.
Now, though…
Rarely is Anders privy to an unguarded moment like this. He isn't certain what Fenris is doing really, but it must feel nice; he’s making that little noise he sometimes makes when he’s very comfortable or very excited. The sound is hidden in his purr, but it’s definitely there. It’s not quite a hum and not quite a groan - Anders would call it a whine, but the connotations of the word don't quite fit.
He often swallows it down, but Anders knows by now that when Fenris makes that noise, he’s very happy. Sometimes when they kiss, he'll hold it in his throat, just loud enough for Anders to feel it there. Or, when he bites into a food he particularly likes, he'll make the noise almost without realizing it, his chewing making it bounce higher and lower. Anders always prays no one will point it out, so Fenris doesn't try to hide it in shame.
Now, he's making it unabashedly.
Anders doesn't want to ruin the moment. After a moment of watching, his heart swelling with love for the man beside him, he finds he can't just sit and observe. In a motion he knows Fenris loves, he claws his hand and runs his fingers firmly up and down Fenris’ back.
The noise rises into a near yowl before gentling out again, a little louder this time. His face stops in its rubbing for a moment, still pressed against the growing pin-prick of stubble, and he sighs deeply, purring all the while.
“Morning, Love,” he whispers, so as not to break whatever spell this is. And yes, he realizes suddenly, it must be morning - Fenris always wakes early, a holdover from his life in Tevinter.
Fenris grunts and resumes his nuzzling. His legs stop moving, though, and he cuddles closer, flexing and clenching his toes sporadically against the fabric of Anders’ sleep pants.
“You like these pajamas?” He tries again, just as quietly as before. “They're quite soft. Should I wear them more?”
Despite his face being rather squished, Fenris still manages a tired, “Yes.”
“I will, then.” When Anders kisses his forehead, Fenris lets loose a long exhale.
Neither of them have much else to say then. Well, Anders has quite a few things to say, given that he's hungry, has to relieve himself, and needs to open the clinic, but all of that matters so much less than Fenris. It's hard to think about eggs and toast, or even the ill and injured, when his lover - always so alert, always so aware - is sharing something so intimate, so carefree.
“I love you,” Anders whispers.
Fenris doesn't reply, but even by the dull lyrium glow, Anders can see his bright smile.