Chapter Text
“Name?” asked the elven barista, holding the empty cup in one hand and hovering the black marker right over it with the other. His green eyes looked at him expectantly without a hint of a smile to them, and the rest of his face wasn’t much friendlier – not that it made it less pleasant to look at.
Anders turned his face to look behind and confirm that there was no one else here, since not a lot of people needed coffee at midnight and it was pouring down rain. He quirked a brow at the barista who was obviously a new hire and thus was probably drilled to follow every rule even if it was unnecessary in certain circumstances, and decided to see if he could turn that frown upside down.
“Just draw a cat,” he said with a small shrug and a smile. “I’ll know it’s for me.”
The elf looked at him wordlessly for a few seconds before those green eyes dropped down to the cup. Tattooed fingers started the drawing with hesitation, but it was clear the barista started to have fun with it by the time it was turn for the whiskers. While the elf was focused on his task, Anders had the opportunity to note that those tattoos continued all along both arms of the man, disappearing into the well-fitting black polo shirt. The name tag spelled “Fenris,” a name foreign to the Free Marches, and he wondered if the man was a foreigner like him.
“Are you new in town too?” Anders asked, but just when the first sound left his lips the elf pressed a button on the coffee machine that turned on the bean grinder. High-pitched noise filled the air and the elf’s face twisted with impatience when he looked at him and asked ‘What?’
Anders waved a hand in the air to signify that it was nothing, and proceeded to wait until the noisy business of making his triple espresso was completed. At that point, the elf covered his cup with a lid, put it down on the counter, and looked him straight in the eye when he flatly called out:
“Cat man.”
“That’s me,” Anders nodded, his smile dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s a lot of caffeine for so late at night,” the elf noted, surprising Anders who just picked up his cup. He hadn’t had the opportunity to hear quite so many words come out of this ‘Fenris’ mouth at once thus far, and so it was only now that he noticed just how strikingly beautiful that voice was. When he said nothing in response, the elf added: “Are you also a night shifter, then? Or is it just a cat thing?”
“A cat thing?” Anders chuckled, surprised that a man with such a severe face would make a joke.
“They stay up all night, do they not?”
“Mine does,” he admitted, then took a sip of his well-made coffee and said as energy granted by the drink already started to course through him: “But yes, I work nights at Divine Justinia’s hospital. I’m a paramedic.”
The new shade of emotion that washed over the elf’s face softened his expression, and Anders preferred to think that it was respect that he saw in those features. People often looked at him like that when he revealed his occupation – it was the sort of job people either respected you for, pitied you for, or thought you were an idiot for putting yourself through that. It was rough sometimes, definitely, but Anders actually enjoyed the challenges it brought. One of those challenges being having to stay awake from midnight till noon two to four nights in a row, but the coffee definitely helped with that, as well as pleasant banter.
“What about you?” Anders asked curiously. “Was working nights your choice, or did they put you here as punishment?”
“It was the only job I could find on short notice. I only just moved here,” the elf revealed, and by his tone Anders knew that he will hear no more details for now. So, half-joking, he said with an easy-going smile:
“I knew we were kindred spirits!” Then, after another sip of coffee and then adjusting his hold around his folded-up umbrella that was still dripping rain water, he added: “I’ve only been here a couple of months myself.” When no reply came despite the elf looking at him attentively, Anders let out a helpless chuckle and said: “Well… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I don’t work tomorrow,” the elf said flatly, leaning against the counter with a hip and crossing his well-toned arms.
Unable to stop himself from shaking his head at the lack of friendliness in the elf’s voice, Anders looked over his shoulder before he left the shop and playfully smirked at him:
“Then I’ll see you around.”
- - -
It took three days for the blond paramedic to come back into the shop while Fenris was manning it by himself. It was about quarter to midnight, just like the first time, and this time instead of being damp with rain the man walked in with snowflakes all over the hood of his jacket. Fenris had never lived somewhere that could snow before, and thus was completely unprepared for it when it started snowing when he was a half hour away from his house already. It was definitely a bad day to wear sandals, which was something he was so accustomed to he hadn’t stopped despite the weather.
“Good evening,” he greeted the man, mostly because he had to, the greeting returned to him with only a nod. Eyes the color of honey looked at him hauntedly, dark eyebags under them obvious on the especially pale face. He looked like he was at the end of his shift rather than the beginning, and Fenris looked at him with sympathy when he asked: “Same as before?”
“No,” the paramedic replied with a shake of his head, pulling the hood back and looking up at the menu. He sighed so heavily it moved the few locks of white hair on Fenris’ forehead, and then finally said after a long hum: “Just… chamomile tea, please.”
Fenris nodded in acknowledgment and took out an appropriately sized cup while the man paid for his order. He felt strangely shy when he asked without looking up:
“What is your name?” Then, before the other could reply, he looked up at him and assured: “I will still draw the cat. I only want to know what to call you.”
The sound of the man’s tired laugh left a pleasant warmth in Fenris’ chest as he proceeded to draw the outline of a fluffy cat’s face while the man replied:
“I’m Anders.”
With a nod, Fenris drew a pair of sleepy eyes on the cat and said:
“Fenris.”
“Well met,” Anders nodded in return and put his hands in his pockets, sniffing his nose and shivering.
“What is your cat’s name?” Fenris asked, suddenly curious. Anders did mention he had a cat, did he not? The elf looked up and saw an embarrassed expression on the other’s features before he heard him admit with a chuckle:
“His name’s Ser Pounce-a-lot.”
Fenris raised his brows as he processed the answer, imagining having to say that multiple times a day. It seemed like quite a mouthful to him. Puzzled, he asked:
“What do you call it when it misbehaves?”
“Little shit, usually,” Anders replied on such a matter-of-fact tone that it made Fenris laugh as he worked on preparing the ordered drink. With a deepened smile, Anders added: “Or knicker weasel, when I’m feeling particularly whimsical.”
The wind outside picked up, larger clumps of snowflakes pelting the tall windows and the glass door that led to the rarely used this time of year patio. Anders looked at that door for a time, his expression betraying his apprehension, and then shivered again and asked with a defeated tone:
“Can I smoke out there?”
Fenris looked up from the carefully measured tea leaves and flicked his gaze between Anders and the glass door multiple times before finally shrugging and carelessly stating:
“You may just do so here.”
“Really? Is that… allowed?” Anders asked, bewildered. His reached up with a hand and untied his hair, the thin black elastic slipping down his hand to rest around the wrist, and his chin-long locks of hair falling down to frame his unshaven face. With a few rough stokes of his hand the man massaged his scalp and rearranged the hair to make it more presentable, but it was obvious by his face that even this small change brought a level of comfort to him. Fenris felt sympathy, and actually wanted the paramedic to find as much comfort as he could – it sounded like a rough job to have.
“Not exactly,” Fenris replied, his eyes detailing Anders’ face that grew hopeful with every passing moment. Then, secretively, he leaned over the counter and quietly said: “But there’s no one here to stop you.”
Anders smirked at him appreciatively, looking up and down his face with a spark returning to those tired honeyed eyes. Fenris mirrored the expression on his own face, then looked down and continued to prepare the ordered drink.
The smell of chamomile was pleasant, and he breathed in a full lungful before cigarette smoke had the chance to taint it. Glancing up at Anders that took a seat at a table cornered by windows, Fenris found himself taken with the sight. Long fingers opened a pack of cigarettes and Anders’ lips fished one of the rods out, a few locks of hair coming down to hang in front of his face. Then with a strangely boyish gesture his hand flicked open a shiny steel lighter to let the flame touch the tip of the cigarette. Anders’ amber eyes lit up with orange as he looked down at the flame, his dark brows furrowed in focus. He sat back and his chest and shoulders rose as he took in a deep breath, his eyes closing and his tired features relaxing. After a moment of holding the smoke in his lungs and letting his cigarette be balanced between two fingers, Anders slowly released a cloud of smoke out of his nose and just sat still, seemingly deep in thought.
Fenris had no desire to interrupt the man’s meditative state, and thus quietly completed to prepare the drink. He made sure to hold it in a way that would show the cat drawing clearly to Anders, and headed over to the table to serve it there. It wasn’t the usual practice to do that, but since no one else was here he thought the special treatment would be appreciated by the only customer.
“Cat man,” he said, careful not to do it too loudly, and placed the cup in front of the man on the table. Anders smiled before he opened his eyes, and started to say words of gratitude before his eyes finally opened and stumbled on Fenris’ feet, widened in shock, and shot back up at his face as Anders asked incredulously:
“What in Andraste’s name are those?”
Fenris looked down and lifted one of his feet off the floor to roll his ankle and examine his foot. He placed it back down and shrugged with a simple explanation leaving his lips:
“My shoes.” Then, crossing his arms defensively, he added: “It’s sandal season all year round where I’m from.”
Anders continued to look at his face with a highly amused surprise lighting up his features. He took another drag of his cigarette without looking away, and politely released a cloud of smoke to the side away from Fenris before he said, squinting:
“Fenris… It sounds Tevene. Is that where you’re from?”
“I’m from Seheron,” Fenris specified, his eyes darting away. He didn’t like thinking about Seheron and what he left behind. Anders seemed to understand, nodding his head and noting:
“It must’ve been rough there.”
“There are worse places,” the elf dismissed with a shrug, looking back at the man that released another cloud of smoke politely away from him. Anders’ gaze lingered on the window, and at the almost horizontal lines of snow falling to the ground at high speeds.
“Like this one?” he suggested jokingly, pointing at the weather outside with a nod. He smirked as he added: “I’m from Ferelden, myself. This would’ve been considered a nice day there, just so you get the picture.”
Despite feeling perfectly warm inside the shop, Fenris shivered just from those words and thought that he did a good thing by deciding not to move any further south than Kirkwall. Somehow, he didn’t think a Fereldan winter would’ve agreed with him. He looked down at Anders’ feet, which he extended from under the table and crossed his ankles, and noted just how heavy those tall army boots must’ve been to wear. Fenris was definitely not a winter person.
Anders took the lid off his tea cup and placed it upside down on the table to use it as an ashtray. A few clumps of ash calmly fell into the lid as Anders tapped on the cigarette’s filter with his thumb. He hummed, took another drag of the cigarette, and released it out of his nose again. Fenris thought the man looked like a dragon when he did that, and found the thought endearing. Anders, meanwhile, looked up at him and asked as he pointed at the cigarette with his chin:
“You sure your manager won’t give you shit for this tomorrow?”
“Not when I look at her like this,” Fenris assured the man with a smirk, before slipping his face into the kind of expression most people found irresistibly pitiful. Anders raised his dark brows, clearly impressed, and nodded with a defenseless smile:
“That’s really good, I’d certainly forgive you.” When Fenris only continued to look at him with amusement, as if he caught Anders somehow, the man shook his head and raised a hand in defeat: “Forgive me as well, I’ve been awake for thirty hours and have no clue what I’m saying anymore.”
“That’s too bad. There I was, already coming up with things you’d have to forgive me for,” Fenris rolled his eyes in feigned disappointment. He gave Anders a last look that was borderline suggestive, and decided it was time he returned to the counter and cleaned up after making that tea. He couldn’t see it, but he was certain that Anders was looking at him walk away, and found the thought rather enticing.
- - -
Spring breeze whipped Anders’ hair around as he headed towards the front door of his favorite coffee shop, so he decided to tuck his hair behind both ears so it no longer blocked his view. He wasn’t expecting his favorite barista to be there at this day and this hour, but he was pleasantly surprised to find Fenris there after all, with his cap on backwards and his eyes in his phone. It was almost surreal to see the elf while the sun was still out, as they’ve gone months only ever interacting sometime around midnight with no one else around. Fenris’ darker skin tone looked particularly good in natural lighting, he noted internally, but decided to cast the thought away before it colored his cheeks with something he wasn’t willing to admit to the world quite yet.
“Good afternoon,” Anders greeted the elf first, who looked up at him with surprise and nodded back. “I didn’t expect to see you here, I thought you didn’t work these hours.”
“I don’t. Just covering for someone,” the elf replied flatly, and then put his phone away into the back pocket of his jeans and asked back: “Aren’t you supposed to be off today?”
“Yes, and tomorrow!” It was difficult to contain the joyous smile that brightened up his features, and he decided to see what Fenris thought about his realization when he playfully shared it next: “Isn’t it fun how we learned each other’s schedules already?”
“I think it’s less impressive than me knowing your cat’s name,” Fenris said matter-of-factly, and already reached for the medium sized paper cup as he asked: “Triple?”
“No, no, I’m feeling rather energized as it is. Just a latte, please, and… what’s your weirdest syrup?” Anders purred, tapping a finger on his chin and being awfully curious to learn a little more about the elf’s tastes.
Fenris looked up from the large paper cup with a serious expression, and then cast his gaze behind himself to look at the row of syrup bottles. He cringed with indecision, scratched the back of his head under the cap with the back of the black marker he was holding, and said, his tone entirely unsure:
“Rhubarb?”
Anders cringed in return and shook his head. If he wanted more of that, he’d have stayed in Ferelden.
“Orlesian cream cheese?”
“…Fine,” Anders answered, strangely suspicious. He had no idea what would that taste like in a coffee but he was willing to find out. The elf quirked his brow in something that read as ‘Your funeral,’ and input the correct order into the cash register.
The elf looked up at the other two patrons of the shop, both occupied with their computers on the opposite sides of the floor, and declared:
“I’m going to write it out to Anders today.” Then he returned his gaze up to meet Anders’ own and added with an intimate smile just for him: “But I will also draw the cat.”
“I like the way your wear your cap,” Anders said in return thus changing the subject completely, pointing at the white hair sticking out from under the cap and through the hole above the adjustable strap. He was almost entirely sure this was against healthcare codes to have hair exposed like that, but he personally really didn’t care. Leaning back and searching for his wallet in the back pocket that should’ve been in the front pocket but somehow wasn’t, Anders observed: “It must be a lot of trouble getting them so bright and white if your true color is as dark as your brows.”
Instinctively, Fenris reached up and touched a lock of his hair before he attempted to tuck it away under the cap. He had to press a button on the register’s screen to continue to await payment since it’d been over a minute now since he input the order.
“It is,” the elf admitted, raising a brow at Anders who now looked almost panicked and still without his wallet. “Not everyone gets to be born as a perfect blond."
The patting of the man’s hands over his pockets stopped, and he looked at the elf with a pair of alert eyes, seemingly startled by the bluntness of his words. Fenris looked at Anders’ face, then slipped his gaze to the admittedly perfect blond hair, then to the silver earring in one of the man’s ears that Fenris had never seen before, then down to the unusually ‘going out’ kind of outfit, and then finally back up to his face. He met the semi-panicked gaze casually and asked:
“You clean up well, are you going to a party?”
Before the man could respond, the coffee machine made its usual amounts of noise as Fenris pressed all the correct buttons and flipped all the right tumblers and steamed all the appropriate amounts of milk. Anders used this time to readjust his shirt and make sure he indeed ‘cleaned up well’ and that Fenris wasn’t being sarcastic when he said that. But yes, he looked okay, and no, he never did find his wallet. Did he leave it at home?
“For the cat man,” Fenris announced as he placed the cup down in front of Anders, right next to the payment terminal which still blinked with a pending payment screen. Anders found himself distracted by the well-shaped arms of the elf now being totally exposed with his sleeves being rolled all the way up to the shoulders, turning the black polo shirt into a tank top, but he was only distracted for a moment. He decided to start with something positive and said:
“So do you, those sleeves must bring a lot of tips!” Then, his face turned apologetic and he leaned against the counter with both hands and guiltily admitted: “Sadly, not from me today, since I appear to be without my wallet.”
Fenris rolled his eyes and blindly tapped his digital watch with a finger, and then reached over to the terminal, flipped his wrist, and allowed the machine to accept the payment from the device. Anders gratefully shook the hand attached to the wrist the bore the watch, and found amusement in the way Fenris looked at him. The elf’s hand was kind of limp in his at first, but he eventually returned the shake and then withdrew his hand still looking as confused as before.
“Thank you, I owe you a drink.” Realizing an opportunity, Anders looked at Fenris with hope and asked: “Say, do you need to work the night shift tonight too?” When the elf curtly shook his head, Anders took out a napkin and started writing on it with a marker as he explained: “I am going to a party, my friend is opening his pub tonight. So, if you are free, perhaps you could come over to this address after your shift, and I’ll get you that drink?”
Fenris looked down at his hand, the one that was so casually shaken just before, and then up at the napkin that was being offered to him. The address written on it wasn’t far, and it was about time he tried going out and meeting people. Still, he was a bit hesitant as he reached out and accepted the napkin with a nod, studying it as if it was a whole book rather than two lines written with a hurried hand.
“Deal,” the elf replied, and couldn’t help but mirror the smile that appeared on Anders’ features at his word. He already started wondering what sort of drink could he order that would set him back the most…