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Standing just outside of the weight room door, ratty gym bag clenched in one hand, schedule held in the other, Anders pondered the wisdom of just dropping the class. He could make it up in spring semester...right? While he was doing the other classes he had to finish during the spring semester...
Or he could just stay one more semester. What was one more semester? Though one semester where all he had was a physical ed class...one class between him and getting into med school. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and pushed open the door to the room.
And was immediately assaulted by the twin smells of body odor and ass.
There were some pretty hefty men in one corner lifting weights that looked the size of his head. Right,he thought, he'd just avoid that corner. A short, hairy guy was braced on the leg press and looked to be handling about three hundred pounds. Three hundred pounds.
"Hey, who're you?" The voice belonged to a tall, hairy man wearing very tight, very small shorts, tube socks, and sneakers. He was shirtless...impressively shirtless.
"Ah...I'm Anders. I've got weight lifting?" Anders waved his schedule at the hairy man and tried to not stare at the amazing amount of muscles bunching under the amazing amount of dark hair. "Er...this is the right place? Yes?"
"Yeah. I'm Garrett, but everybody calls me Hawke." The man held out a wide, broad hand and flashed a big grin, blue eyes tracking down Anders' body. "Nice pants."
Sweet Maker. He had worn the only work-out clothing he had - black yoga pants and a blue tank. "I, ah, didn't have anything else. I wear them to yoga." The hand engulfed his much slimmer one and squeezed warmly.
"That explains your ass," Hawke laughed, peeking around Anders' and winking.
"Hawke, I need you to spot me." A shorter, darker, but just as muscled man glided over the two of them. "Who is this?"
"Ahh...I'm Anders. Here for weight lifting?" He waved the schedule at the other man and tried to not eye the tattoes covering him from head to feet. He realized he was staring and flushed, shuffling. "Did I get the time wrong?"
"Naw, you just sign in over there, stow your stuff on the shelf, and then lift. It's self-timed. Though the prof checks in regularly." Hawke finally let go of his hand, slapping his back once. "Alright Fen, whatcha got?"
"Deadlifts," Fen said. "I'm Fenris by the way. Don't hurt yourself."
"Right. Haha. I'm a med student. I could probably...fix...it ok..." Anders watched as the two muscled guys ambled off, Fenris gesturing at a bar holding plates bigger than his body. He stretched, bent, got a good grip, and hefted the bar like it was nothing.
Right. Don't hurt himself. He could manage to do this for one semester. Right?
***
Ten minutes into class and it was apparent to Anders that he may not make it the entire semester. After waffling over the equipment, some of it making him scratch his head in both confusion and fear, he settled on the pull-up bar.
Now, he did work out. He liked to run and he took yoga twice a week in the evenings - mainly for stress relief. He was a pretty lean muscled guy. The pull-up bar should have been a piece of cake. If he had any sort of grip. Hanging there, legs like two limp noodles, Anders strained to pull himself up for one.
A glance to the side showed Fenris on a bar and smoothly lifting himself over and over again. Form perfect, his arms didn't shake and he didn't seem to tire. Hawke had the third bar and was doing some sort of modified pull-up that had his hands gripped together. He was covered in sweat, arm muscles bulging, and did not seem to need to slow down. Or breathe.
Anders gave another go, arms shaking with the effort. He made it half-way up before his muscles gave out. He sighed, hanging from the bar with his head drooping. The sound of a throat clearing had him looking down.
"Allow me to spot you." It was Fenris, face looking mildly embarrassed - whether it was for himself or Anders was hard to tell.
"Oh...no...you don't have to. I mean, I'm sure if I go try something else...ok..." Anders squawked slightly as Fenris gripped him around his calves.
"You have good muscle definition. It's just lean. Not a weight-lifter," the shorter man murmured, "Pull up and I will brace you."
Anders started pulling up, aided by Fenris' grip on his legs. His chin made it over the bar and he grinned. One.
Unfortunately, all that hanging and straining had made Anders' hands sweaty. When his chin touched the bar, his grip slipped and he let go. Letting go caused him to sway forward and he fell...on Fenris.
Lying there, mortified, and trying to find a safe place to put his hand that didn't involve tattooed skin or shorts, Anders thought perhaps an extra semester was the way to go. He could take ballroom dancing. Or swimming. Or anything else, really.
A firm grip on the collar of his tank was all the warning he had before he was yanked up. Dangling from Hawke's hand he glanced over to see Fenris in the same position only in Hawke's other hand. "You two lovebirds ok?"
"Haha. I think we need to work on his grip," Fenris muttered. "Put me down, Hawke."
"Sure thing, Fen." Hawke dropped Fenris, offering the man a grin before turning laughing eyes on Anders. "So."
Anders dangled there, unsure just what to say or do.
"Want down?" Hawke was full on laughing now, shoulders shaking. "We'll work on it."
"Oh no...I'll just..."Anders fumbled as he was set on his feet.
"Drop the class? But then I couldn't stare at your ass in those amazing yoga pants." Hawke gave an even bigger grin, giving Anders a wink. "Come on. Let me show you something easier. And safer. Ever done a chest press?"
"Er...no?" Anders followed the bigger man across the room.
"Well have a seat and let me explain how this baby works," Hawke said, patting the padded bench. Anders looked up into bright blue eyes and found himself grinning back, flushing a bit when Hawke raised an eyebrow and gave him a lopsided smile.
Maybe weight lifting wasn't so bad...