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“So, you and Fenris, hm?”
Anders paused in his healing of Isabela’s leg wound (relatively minor, it had stopped bleeding before she’d made it to the clinic but was still large enough to pick up a potentially nasty infection without treatment) to meet her mischievous gaze. He supressed a sigh. That one of his companions would probe into his ‘not quite friends not quite enemies with benefits plus something else’ not-relationship was inevitable and the smart money was on Isabela broaching the subject first. After all, she gossiped like a housewife (and wouldn’t she just love that analogy) and could never resist prying into the affairs of her companions when there were potentially sordid sexual escapades to hear of. If he was lucky, she was asking only for her only curiosity and not also fishing for info for the betting pool she had going with select members of their ragtag group. Hawke and Varric came to mind. “What about me and Fenris?”
“Don’t be coy, sweet thing. You know exactly what I want to hear about you and Fenris.”
Briefly, Anders considered how much would be safe to tell. It was pretty tough to weigh up how much Isabela would be satisfied with against the length and severity of the blue balls Fenris would inflict on him if he ever found out Anders had divulged anything to the pirate. On second thought, Fenris would likely be more than happy to neuter him and remove the problem of blue balls permanently. Clearly the only solution was to avoid the conversation entirely.
“No, you’ll have to be more specific I’m afraid. Do you want to know about the dragon me and Fenris helped Hawke take down the other day? Me miraculously winning five sovereigns off of Fenris at Wicked Grace night last week? Me removing the shards of half a wine bottle from Fenris’s foot the week before last?”
Isabela just chuckled at his admittedly pathetic attempt at diversion, her jewellery glinting in the dim clinic light at the movement. “I mean, you and Fenris doing the nasty behind our backs for the last half year.” She leaned in, as though to whisper in his ear, though the volume of her voice remained the same. “I want to know all the filthy, sordid, depraved details. How did it start? Who takes who? What does it take to break that broody exterior? What sound does he make when he comes? And then some.”
Anders gulped and clamped down on the half fantasies half memories her words invoked. Hitching breaths and snarled Arcanum, nails leaving tracks on dark skin interrupted by lines of lyrium, panting breaths against his ears as fingers probed deep into his body, heavy pulsing weight in his mouth as he did the same in return. He hastily reminded himself that responding to Isabela’s questions with an erection was not at all likely to help him avoid said questions. Instead he forced himself to think about old man Sanderson’s leg sores, fresh in his memory from that morning. The images of wrinkled open skin oozing smelly yellow pus promptly diverting the flow of blood away from his cock and (hopefully) back to his brain. “Ah, well if that’s the information your after I’m afraid I can’t help you.” He said as he tried to pull away.
Isabela pouted, halting Anders’ attempted retreat with a casual hand on his shoulder that held more force than the gesture implied. “Why not?”
“Because” Anders squirmed under the imprisoning hand.
“Because?” Isabela shuffled forward in anticipation, running her fingers through the feathers of his coat.
“Just because.”
“You’re no fun.” Isabela hummed softly, plucking a feather out in revenge. “Guess I’ll have to invent the stories about the most unlikely coupling in Kirkwall that need spreading around the Hanged Man.”
“Save the guilt trip for the man whose lover isn’t able and willing to rip the still beating heart from his chest.” Anders smiled, but as he about to move away he heard Isabela’s bracelets clink together as her withdrawing hand froze and saw a look of surprise flash briefly across her features.
It took a second to figure out what in his words had shocked her. Anders mentally cursed as he retraced his sentence and found his unintentional use of the L-word. It wasn’t that he hadn’t meant it, even if he’d only ever dared use it in his head before, but meaning it didn’t make it strictly true. He had no clue why Fenris had chosen to get involved with him of all people, but he was sure that all he was to the elf was a convenient and reliable source of orgasms. At most, it was a one sided affection on his part. Drastically different world views aside, it was little wonder that he’d fall for Fenris. He was strong, fierce and loyal, with a dash of carefully guarded vulnerability and a rarely heard yet thoroughly enjoyably acidic kind of wit, all of which was wrapped in a gorgeous package of green eyes, lean muscle and enticing full body tattoos.
But despite the relative frequency of their intimate encounters, Fenris still hated everything Anders stood for. A mage who actively worked against the circle and was even possessed by what Fenris mistakenly believed to be a demon? That he could move past that enough to fall into a purely physical relationship, stubborn in his beliefs as he was, was enough of a miracle for one Age. That he would return Anders’ unexpected affection in equal measure was too much to hope for.
Something of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face since Isabela started to run soothing strokes through his hair. “Any mans’ lover can do that, sweet thing. Metaphorically at least.”
There was something in Isabela’s smile that was more genuine than he’d ever seen in her before, and Anders felt the unexpected urge to confide in her some of what he was feeling rather than keep it in as he had been. Maker knew he needed someone more Earthly than the Fade spirit who shared his body to help him wade through the complex miasma of conflicting emotion he was currently neck deep in.
But that wasn’t quite the reason why he wanted to talk with her, he realised. He was slightly surprised at himself, somewhere along the line he’d forged with Isabela the kind of friendship where he felt comfortable enough to speak of such things. Apart from Hawke, who actually had an equal chance of cracking a joke at Anders’ expense than having a serious heart to heart, he hadn’t formed that kind of connection with someone since his days with the Grey Wardens. His relationship with Fenris was obviously more touch than talk based, hence the reason he was feeling so lost in the first place.
He rose from his position on the floor. Whilst he suspected Isabela would be happy to have this discussion with him still knelt between her thighs after healing her, he’d much rather be comfortably seated. He gestured towards an empty cot as an alternative, offering his other hand to help her down. She accepted as far as jumping down off the exam table, but chose to hobble towards the cot on the power of her own healed but still injury stiff leg. She sat with an unnatural grace and Anders fell beside her.
Anders took a deep breath in before beginning. “To be honest, I’m not really sure how the whole Fenris thing started. I mean, I know how it started, but why…” He stalled, laughing self-consciously before finally deciding not to pick and choose at his words.
“I never thought I’d have another relationship period, after joining with Justice. He’s pretty dead set against any… uh, lustful intentions I might have had. He thinks it’s a distraction from our cause, and let me tell you there is nothing worse for your sex life than a voice in your head telling you to go heal the sick or write a manifesto whenever you so much as think of making a move on someone.
“It’s different with Fenris though. I guess who could say that Justice… likes him? He told me once, before we joined, that lyrium, as in solid lyrium, ‘sings’ to him. It reminds him of being home in the Fade. I think he can hear the song when I’m touching Fenris, so he likes being close to him, and he stops nagging me for long enough for um, stuff to happen.”
Isabela was silent for a little while, frowning in thought as she waited to see if Anders would continue. When she was satisfied his rambling had finished she asked, “So are you with him just because the friend in your head wants it? Or because there isn’t another option?”
“No!” The cry was more of a reflexive denial to both possibilities than an actual answer. Anders continued, softer this time, “It’s true that a year ago, I never could have imagined being with Fenris or… feeling like this. But I do. Feel. And it is me that feels, I’m sure of it.” What exactly the ‘feeling’ was he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice a second time, but he thought that Isabela seemed to know what he meant, and probably would have even without the accidental slip from earlier.
“So let me get this straight, you’re in love with him, and he’s chosen to be with you. What’s the problem?”
Anders laughed bitterly. “I guess you wouldn’t get it.”
Isabela flicked him in the side of the head. “Not the tone to take with the woman who’s spending her precious time listening to your romantic issues, Lover boy.”
“Ow! Right, right. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you wasn’t a great idea.” And maybe, Anders mused internally, the friendship with Isabela that had led him into starting this conversation in the first place was about as mutual as his relationship with Fenris.
Irritation not placated, Isabela crossed her arms over her ample chest and raised an eyebrow. “What, am I not a good enough romance guru for you?”
“It’s not that,” Anders gulped, casting around for an explanation that didn’t involve mistaking their level of reciprocal rapport, he didn’t think he could take that particular rejection in words at that moment, “It’s just that there isn’t really anything anyone can do to help.” He finished lamely.
“Try me.” She challenged, sighing when Anders remained silent. “Well then, let me guess. If the problem isn’t why you’re with him it has to be the other way around. Why he’s with you. Am I right?”
Hesitantly, Anders nodded.
“Then let me tell you something I learned recently. Love is more of a risk than anything else. You won’t get anywhere if you don’t gamble a bit, but the bigger the bet you put on, the bigger the reward when you win.” She stood and stretched. “Speaking of, I have to go back to my wonderfully filthy rented room and collect from Varric. He bet me fifty silver that I wouldn’t get you tell me anything. Not that he gets to hear the details, that’s just what he gets for having so little faith in my abilities.” She winked, the upturned corners of her lips letting Anders know that despite her words, that wasn’t the reason Varric would have to stay in the dark at all.
“Isabela.”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for listening. And… everything else.”
“You’re welcome, Sugar. Now go sweep that broody elf off his feet and you can say Thanks with drinks at the Hanged Man later.”