Work Text:
They had been caught unaware in a downpour after their most recent adventure into the maze of sewer tunnels that ran beneath Darktown, the overcast skies opening up and sending a deluge of hot, summer rain down into the streets of Kirkwall. It was simultaneously disgusting, as it dampened clothing and turned dusty, dried dirt into mud, and a welcome relief from the heat that had not abated over the entire week.
Hawke was soaking wet by the time he reached the estate, a pair of equally soaked elves in tow. Merrill had been coming to visit with Leandra, a habit she had gotten into when the Hawke family had still been living in Lowtown with Gamlen - Merrill and Mother Hawke had struck up a friendship of sorts as Leandra took the Dalish elf under her wing. Fenris had been similarly on his way back to the manor he’d been squatting in for the past four years - Hawke guessed that meant it belonged to the elf now, but Fenris still called it Danarius’ mansion, and each time he did Hawke felt his growing hatred for that man rise in his veins, but he never commented . Needless to say, with the blinding rain out, Fenris had not made it back to whoever’s home it was.
Not without trying, but Hawke had snagged Fenris’ arm before he could leave and dragged him into the estate. “I would prefer you didn't drown out there,” Hawke said as he pushed the elf inside.
“It is just rain, Hawke,” Fenris protested, but he didn't put any heart behind. Instead he shuffled in the foyer, wet feet leaving prints on the marble.
“I've never seen it pour like this before, do you think Darktown will flood? I'm glad we got out of there before the rain started, I wouldn't fancy being down there with all this draining into the sewers - Can you imagine the mess?” Merrill chattered as she tried her best to wipe rainwater from her sleeves.
Hawke laughed. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying. Fenris flinched away from him to avoid the spray. “I'm sure Darktown will survive, but if Anders shows up looking like a drowned cat, we may have to mount a rescue.”
“Do you think we’d need boats?” Merrill asked.
“Probably,” Hawke replied.
Fenris shook his head. “If Darktown floods, rescuing the people down there would be the least of your concerns - it would mean far worse for the city.”
“We were only joking, Fenris,” Merrill said. She stared at him with wide eyes, hair dripping, a look of concern plastered on her face. “Could you not tell?”
Fenris looked away from Merrill, hunching his shoulders with a shrug. Colour flooded the elf’s cheeks, which he tried to hide behind his damp fringe. Not before Hawke saw the flush, however.
He grinned, prepared to say something, but he heard his mother call from the main hall of the manor.
“Garrett! Dear, bring your friends inside. You all must be soaked to the bone from this rain.”
“Leandra, it's raining cats and dogs outside- that is how you say it, isn't it?” Merrill asked as she wandered out of the foyer. She was gone before Hawke could tell her she had the phrase correct, leaving him and Fenris behind.
Hawke looked to Fenris, patted him on the back in a show of camaraderie - or something. He left his hand to rest between Fenris’ shoulder blades. “Cheer up, I'm sure my mother will feed you, in the least.”
Fenris glanced up at him, tugged at his sleeve as he continued to drip onto the floor. “I do not mind spending time with you, Hawke… Your mother and Merrill, on the other hand.”
Hawke chuckled. “Aw, don't be mean. Merrill is sweet when you get past her bluntness.”
“And your mother?”
“Well… That I can understand. She tries, at least.”
Fenris smiled at him, nodded. He looked away, surveilling the dark foyer. His green eyes caught the firelight drifting in from the main hall, shining like muted emeralds. Hawke stared at him as he spoke, “I would prefer her company to being alone in Danarius’ mansion tonight, I believe. The ceiling leaks.”
Hawke ran a hand through his hair. He sighed heavily. “You should move, that mansion is falling to pieces around you.”
“I have nowhere else to go, Hawke,” Fenris said quietly.
The urge to tell him he did, he could stay here, rose in him, but Hawke managed to keep his mouth shut - only by pinching his lips into a thin line. By the look on his face, Hawke had a feeling that Fenris knew what Hawke was thinking - the fact that he didn't run away immediately kindled some hope in Hawke.
“Are you two coming? Your mother has made tea, Hawke, and there's lovely biscuits - Oh, am I interrupting something?” Merrill poked her head back into the foyer, eyes locking on the hand Hawke still had resting between Fenris’ shoulder blades.
He had not even noticed, and quickly removed his hand, letting it drop to his side. “We’re coming, Merrill,” Hawke told her after he’d cleared his throat.
***
“Garrett, welcome home dearest,” Leandra greeted her son when he and Fenris finally appeared in the parlour. “Goodness, the both of you look like someone just pulled you out of a river.”
Hawke looked down at himself. He was utterly soaked through, his hair sticking to his face, clothing plastered to his body under his armour. Fenris was in a similar state, Hawke realized, now that he could see him in the light. “It's raining quite a lot,” Hawke said by way of explanation.
“I can see that. Before we settled down for tea all three of you need to dry off, I won't have you catching colds. Or dripping on the carpet.”
Hawke looked down at his feet, wet patch already forming underneath them.
“There are fresh towels upstairs,” Leandra instructed. “Merrill, if you would like I can lend you a set of Bethany’s old clothing.”
“I wouldn't want to be a bother,” Merrill exclaimed. “Though I would not mind it, all this leather is rather uncomfortable when it's sopping wet.”
“It's no problem, darling, Maker knows Bethany isn't using them.”
“O-oh, alright!”
“I'll get Fenris and I sorted,” Hawke said. He looked to Fenris, gesturing towards the stairs. “After you?”
Fenris nodded stiffly and led the way out of the parlour, up the flight of stairs. He faltered when he reached the top, looking back to Hawke. “I- ah… I am uncertain which room is yours.”
“That one there.” Hawke pointed at the door just down from them, there was a coat of arms hung on the door - his fathers, with a stylized red hawk in it.
He saw Fenris’ slight smile. “I suppose I could have guessed.”
Hawke grinned back at him. He heard his mother and Merrill coming up behind them. “You can use my bathroom, just help yourself to whatever you need.”
“And yourself?”
“I'll use the guest bath, it's not a problem.”
Fenris looked as if he wanted to protest, but he nodded instead and let himself into Hawke’s room.
Before he could be cornered by his mother, Hawke ducked into the bathroom on the second floor and closed the door behind him. He started to undo the buckles on his armour, stripping down to his underclothes as he tried very hard to avoid thinking about the fact that Fenris was in his bedroom, probably in the process of removing his own armour. Hawke couldn't help but wish he could be the one doing it, stripping the elf down to his smalls and helping him dry off with one of his large, fluffy towels.
He buried his face in the one he was now holding, drying his beard. He couldn't think like that, not only because it was unkind towards Fenris, but also because he couldn't bare to get his own hopes up. Fenris had never stated directly that he was as interested in Hawke as he was in him, but the elf had also never told Hawke to stop his flirting. Sometimes, he even returned it.
However, no matter how much he wanted Fenris, he wanted him to be happy more. So he calmed his thoughts, got himself mostly dry, piled his armour nicely in a corner, and left the bathroom to knock at the door to his own room.
He got no response, so he let himself in. “Fenris? I need to get some-”
He stopped dead, staring at the elf, who stood across the room from him. Wearing a pair of Hawke’s trousers and in the process of putting on one of his shirts.
“-clothes…” Hawke finished belatedly.
Fenris turned scarlet, looking anywhere but at Hawke. “Ah, I apologize I should have- My clothes were soaked through, and you said to help myself to anything.”
Hawke stared at him. He was gaping, he was sure, but he couldn't help himself. Fenris had yet to finish doing up the buttons to the shirt, and a long stretch of his dark, tattooed chest was still visible. Hawke’s clothes were a few sizes too big, his feet swallowed up by the cuff of his trousers.
“No, no it's fine!” Hawke said when he finally recovered from the initial shock of seeing Fenris wearing his clothes. “I just was not expecting to see you… In them…”
Fenris hummed as he did up the last few buttons. “They are a little large,” he commented.
“Yeah, I'm taller than you are.”
Fenris chuckled. “Yes, Hawke, you are.”
They stood there, Hawke clutching a damp towel in his hands, and Fenris standing with his hands clutching the hem of his shirt.
“Did you need..?” Fenris eventually broke the silence that had fallen around them.
Hawke shook himself, looking away from Fenris. “Ah yes, I need to- You know, I'm dry enough. Should we go entertain my mother?”
Fenris quieted a brow, but he nodded and let go of the shirt. He did eye Hawke when he approached, however, probably noting how damp the man’s clothes still were. “Are you sure you don't want some fresh clothing?” Fenris asked. “You have plenty in your wardrobe.”
Hawke laughed. “Alright, just wait a moment, I'll get changed.”
Fenris nodded and wandered back across the room. He stopped at Hawke’s desk, looking down at the myriad of papers Hawke had strewn about. Hawke pulled clothing from his wardrobe, hoped that he didn't have anything too embarrassing in there, and quickly stripped to his smalls, pulling fresh clothes back on.
“Do you usually put your trousers on backwards?” Fenris asked him.
Hawke flushed immediately, not even bothering to glance down at his trousers before he yanked them off again, fixing his mistake. “I'm just distracted, that's all,” Hawke exclaimed.
He heard Fenris laugh, and turned to see him hiding his smile behind his hand. “Distracted? What could be the cause…”
“I think you know,” Hawke accused.
Fenris continued to laugh. “Hawke, as much as I appreciate your, ah, musculature. Perhaps you should put on a shirt and we should go visit your mother before she suspects anything.”
Hawke flushed once again. “You like my musculature?”
“Hawke, your shirt.”
“Right, right.” Hawke hastily slipped it on, doing the buttons up, a goofy grin plastered in place on his face. “Let's go.”
“Lead the way, Hawke,” Fenris said and gestured to the door.