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He didn’t know what was worse: losing the warmth of Hawke’s arms around him or knowing now that eventually, he’d most definitely have to get up out of bed. A bed he most assuredly did not deserve to be sleeping in.
With a languorous stretch, Anders reached his arms overhead, letting his fingers grasp and paw at the plushness of the covers underneath. It wasn’t the first night he’d spent actually staying at the Amell estate, but even now, the fact that he no need to worry about leaky ceilings, drafty, cold chambers, and the feel of a rickety, stiff cot at his back when he laid down to sleep baffled the mage.
Still, he refused to open his eyes, convinced that if he didn’t acknowledge the morning, he’d be allowed a few more moments of comfort. Warm, morning light peeked into the room through the large windows, blanketing over him and threatening to lull him back into a contented, secure slumber. He was nearly on the cusp, until the rustle of sheets next to him brought him back to the realm of consciousness.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were a cat in a human body.”
“Hmm…” Anders hummed, eyes still closed as his hands moved from overhead and stretched in front of him. “That’s certainly not the worst thing to be called.”
He turned fully to greet Hawke, silently overjoyed that he only had to lean in part of the way for a chaste but sweet kiss which he now deemed absolutely required upon waking.
“Good morning, love,” Anders said as they parted, eyes raking over the glorious sight that was a very naked Hawke. “Sleep well? Looks like it,” he teased, alluding to the endearing mess that was always the state of Hawke’s hair in the morning.
“Mm, I slept wonderfully - that seems to happen when you’re near,” Hawke answered, sleepily regarding him with a lazy smile. “You seem so acclimated; every time I turn to look at you, you fit in so naturally, like you were meant to be here.”
The words were spoken with fondness and kind regard, but the deep, pinching feeling in his gut at the thought of enjoying luxuries that so few of their kind could, left him with the prickling heat of shame in his cheeks and a sudden thought that perhaps he shouldn’t be enjoying his time at the estate as much as he was.
“...it’s…still hard to think of this place as my home,” Anders confessed, quietly, frightened that even speaking the words would manifest Darktown’s walls around him, enclosing him in the daily struggle of worrying whether he’d sleep without Carta thugs or Templars crashing down his door. “Every time I remember others…what other mages don’t have compared to what we do, I just don’t think I-”
A gentle touch of Hawke’s knuckle to his jaw focused his thoughts, staring once more into Hawke’s eyes.
“Anders,” Hawke began. “You’re here because I asked you to live with me. You enjoying your stay here so far doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly forgotten the plight of mages. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can’t continue fighting for them. Unless you don’t want to be here, then that’s a different matter entirely.”
Quickly, Anders clasped his hand over Hawke’s, holding it against his cheek. “No,” he breathed. “Of course I want to be here with you.”
Smiling, Hawke slowly moved closer, their noses nearly touching. “Then can’t you allow yourself to enjoy the warmth of our bed without having to mentally degrade yourself for it?”
Our bed. It pleased him terribly to hear Hawke speak of things as if they belonged to them both. He believed himself a stranger in the vast estate, but Hawke’s more than gracious invitation and welcome had helped immensely with the abrupt transition.
“I know,” Anders conceded. “You’re right.”
“Good, because I intend to spoil you in such a way that will have you wondering why you ever thought of such things,” Hawke stated matter-of-factly, letting the fingers of their free hand weave their way into his hair, dragging him closer for a kiss, which he eagerly leaned into.
With a dramatic sigh, Hawke separated, flopping their head against the comforter. “Do we have to get out of bed?”
“I’m afraid so. No amount of pouting and whining will take away our duties. Believe me, it never works,” Anders grinned, remembering days long gone, in his youth, spent attempting to shirk from chores at the Circle by hiding under the covers in his bunk.
“No matter,” Hawke said, sitting up and moving to swing their legs off the bed. “A hard day’s work just means our reunion in this bed later tonight will be all the sweeter.”
They tossed a wink over their shoulder at him and Anders blushed, wishing he were already out and done with the day simply for the chance to come back home to his Hawke.
–
Though he was nearing a week coming to live at the estate, Anders still felt dwarfed by the entire place. The hallways were certainly less cavernous than Darktown’s twists and turns of corridors, but there were doors upon doors, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever remember what led to where.
The afternoon had, like many others recently, been lacking in patients at the clinic. Rather than staying later and risking a nasty shake-down by Templars, he decided to return to the mansion, divulging himself for once to take a tome he’d found interest in and simply read for the remaining time he had until Hawke returned home. Though that had unfortunately been a longer and longer wait period, with Hawke now closing in at four days away on a task with a few of the others.
With tome in hand, Anders was certain he’d found himself in front of the door leading to the study. He opened it without much caution, only to have his book tumble to the floor in his fright upon seeing it occupied. Moreso, by whom it was occupied.
“Lady Amell,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry to disturb you.” He knelt down for his book, already feeling the tips of his ears warm at her now undivided attention when he’d been trying to avoid it altogether.
It wasn’t their first encounter - that had been an official, and more proper, he supposed, meeting the very next morning after Anders’s first evening spent with Hawke. But since then, he hadn’t had much chance to speak with her. He convinced himself, daily, that it was obviously because he didn’t want to rock whatever calm waters currently between them. She was the mother of his loved one; the last thing he wanted was to offend her and ruin things.
“Disturb me?” came Leandra’s voice, collected and quiet, yet somehow still demanding attention to her and filling the otherwise empty study. She sat elegantly, like any proper lady, on a chaise situated near the fireplace, eyes so apparently inherited by Hawke fixed on him. “You’ve done nothing of the sort.”
Good. At least he had avoided any damage. “Then I shall excuse myself,” he began, turning toward the door.
“Hold on.” Her voice paused Anders’s step and he looked at her. She gestured toward an empty chair just across the chaise she occupied. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t share the study - it’s large enough, don’t you think?”
He had hoped to slip away back to his shared bedroom without much incident, but even Anders admitted to himself that Leandra was correct and leaving simply to avoid her now would be rude.
Nodding, he cleared his throat and took the offered chair, perched in such a way that given the need, he could simply stand just as quickly and briskly walk to the door. He opened his tome to a random page, the script’s meaning all but lost on his preoccupied consciousness. The sound of the gently crackling fire may as well have been deafening with his senses on alert; he didn’t have to lift his head to know that the only other occupant in the room had her eyes set on him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Maker, if there was a spell to have the Void consume him just to avoid the awkward tension that snapped that very moment, he would have cast it in that instant. Instead, his hands fumbled, catching his book and turning to regard Leandra. Her face betrayed her words - where he assumed there should have been a scowl, a playful smile, not unlike that of Hawke’s, spread over her lips.
“Do I offend you, Anders?” she questioned. “This isn’t the first time we’ve met, after all.”
“No, Lady Amell,” he quickly interjected. “Not at all. It’s just-”
How else could he explain that all of his fears of speaking with her stemmed from a frustrated confession from Hawke before they were even together; one that involved Leandra remarking on finding a suitable spouse for her child. Surely that meant she had her own opinions on her child’s ultimate choice of partner; he was hardly the type any respectable noble would choose.
He must have paused too long, for she was speaking again. “I hadn’t exactly planned on my children to follow in my footsteps. In this case, quite literally,” Leandra said as she closed her book. “As you know, my late husband was an apostate.”
Anders nodded slightly in confirmation, and she seemingly took that as her permission to continue. “The things we faced together in our relationship are things I’d never wish repeated on anyone, especially my children.”
But the child you’re alluding to is a mage themself, Anders thought, and the temptation to say something - anything - bubbled inside him, and he wondered if it was his own feelings on the matter or Justice’s thoughts mingling with his own, nearly compelling him to speak. He was glad to have held his tongue, when she continued.
“But when he would look at me…nothing else seemed to matter. I’d be reminded of the love between us and I believed we could overcome anything.” Leandra’s gaze seemed to be far off, recalling some moment in time that now only existed in her mind. “And I think…I’ve seen that same look from you toward my- well, I suppose you and the others all refer to them as ‘Hawke’.”
“I used to tease them, you know? About how I noticed how you look at them when they’re not watching…” And then Leandra turned her head, setting her book down and clasping her hands in her lap. “You truly love them, don’t you?”
The tension in Anders’s shoulders slipped away as he registered her quiet, but pointed question. Even now, she stared intently at him, and he felt not fear, but a need to answer her in kind.
“...with all my heart,” he replied, voice unwavering. More than he thought humanly possible - to a point where he feared loving Hawke more than they loved him. He’d confessed such to them that first evening they shared - not openly saying he loved them now would just be a flat lie that he could never forgive himself for uttering - not when Hawke so selflessly gave him their love in return.
There was no true way to be certain, but he swore her eyes shone in the light of the fire, as if filled with unshed tears. “The past few years have been so difficult for my darling child,” Leandra explained. “I know how happy you make them. And I have to thank you for loving them so.”
“It is I who should be saying thank you, Lady Amell-”
“Leandra, please,” she stated, lifting a hand in opposition to the reference. “I may have reclaimed my title, but I’d like to think that perhaps we could be friends while you’re here,” she smiled. “After all, this is your home now.”
Home. The word still felt foreign to him but he smiled in return, eager to get along with the woman. “I’d like nothing more, Leandra.”
–
The loud, echoing splash of water sloshing out of the tub and onto the tiled floor beneath hardly phased Anders as he dunked himself into the warmth of the bath, resurfacing moments later with a rattled sigh. He pushed his hair back, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back, trying to let the bath soak away the wariness of the day.
After nearly an entire day spent at the clinic with the largest surge of patients he’d had in weeks, and then attending to chores with Leandra as soon as he’d returned to the estate, he all but shambled back, quietly asking Bodahn with assistance in filling up the tub in the bathing room for a much needed soak.
He usually never stepped foot in the room, content with merely washing himself with a quick rinse in cold water and finding the idea of filling up an entire tub with warmed and scented water completely superfluous, even if he were already living in a mansion. Today, he was somewhat ashamed to say, he hadn't felt enough guilt toward the luxuries that an estate provided to prevent him from taking advantage.
There were still things that gave him pause: being called Master Anders by Bodahn, eating an actual dinner with others at a table, as opposed to a piece of bread and whatever scraps he could find at market while huddled on his cot, sleeping in a large, warm bed, even the act of coming home to such a large dwelling still had the shame in his gut rumbling. Though in a way, they were all more tolerable, and much more able to be enjoyed because he knew Hawke was waiting for him back at the estate.
Beyond the steady drip of water echoing off the walls, the silence and relaxing warmth of the bath nearly lulled Anders into a slumber, until there was a soft knock at the door.
“Anders, it’s me. May I come in?”
“If you don’t mind a wet, naked mage, then why not?” It took him a moment to answer - pondering if he valued privacy or companionship more at that moment. Though he greatly appreciated Hawke’s consideration, as he was far too used to others barging in on his space even when bathing while at the Circle.
The door opened, revealing Hawke who looked nearly as tired as he had earlier in the evening. They closed the door behind them quickly, to prevent the heat from escaping into the dressing room.
“Now why would I mind such a sight?” they asked with a smirk as they moved to take a stool sitting in the corner of the room and settling next to the tub.
Anders lifted a dripping hand out of the water, gripping Hawke’s that had already moved to seek his, their fingers interlocking. “I missed you,” he commented, though that simple phrase did not encompass just how much he did.
“I’ve only been gone for a few days at most,” Hawke claimed, with Anders mentally noting it'd almost been two weeks. “But I missed you, too, love.” The grip of their hand flexed and they smiled. “How’s it been here at home? I’m surprised to find you here in the bathing room. You always seemed to avoid it.”
He hummed in contemplation. “Well, scheduled, guaranteed meals are nice…having shelter that doesn’t leak during a storm, or reek of sewage in the evening is also a bonus. I suppose using a bathtub to its full potential was only a matter of time.”
“And do you feel at home yet?” Hawke asked, moving to grab a washrag from the bucket sitting next to the tub. “Or is it still hard to think of it that way?”
Hawke held the rag up and Anders nodded in confirmation, sitting up and away from the edge of the tub, baring his back and neck to his lover. The ripples from the rag being dipped into the water tickled at his skin before feeling its moist texture placed at the nape of his neck, Hawke rubbing in firm circles.
“It’s…no, it hasn’t been as difficult lately to think of this place as my home. It does feel strange to say it, I’ll admit, but to think it? No…in fact, it rather feels nice, especially when I know you’re here.” Whether he was being completely honest with Hawke, he wasn't certain. There was some truth to his words, but it just felt more right when Hawke was there with him.
He shivered, all but melting when Hawke’s lips placed a delicate kiss to his shoulder.
“You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” they murmured against his skin.
Anders reached a hand behind, gently holding onto Hawke and keeping them in place. “Then I’m all the more glad to say it.”
“Have you been in the bath long?” Hawke whispered. “I brought you a gift and I want you to see it.”
“Long enough, though I wouldn’t mind a bit more soaking,” he admitted.
“Then I won’t stop you. In fact, let me help.”
With a nod of permission, he allowed Hawke to help him wash his hair and simply enjoy the remaining warmth of the water, practically purring as he felt Hawke’s strong fingers rub at his scalp, feeling far too doted on but not nearly enough to feel ashamed. Undeserved, perhaps, but not overly ashamed.
“Your gift’s in the dressing room,” Hawke announced as they assisted him out of the tub, an eager smile on their face.
It seemed a bit silly to become so excited about a gift and normally, Anders would not have made such a big commotion, though Hawke’s excitement at his apparent seeing it is what brought him joy. “Is it a basket of kittens?”
“Oh, oof. No, but that’s a good idea…I’ll have to write that down for future reference.”
They walked through the doorway into the dressing room. “No one’s perfect,” Anders joked, catching sight of a wrapped box sitting on the dresser to the side.
“That’s for you. I’ll wait for you while you get dressed, but make sure you open that first, alright?” Hawke left him with a quick peck to his stubbled cheek before rushing out into the adjoining hall that led to their bedroom.
As he dried himself off, his curiosity kept him wondering, keeping an eye on the otherwise unremarkable parcel innocently perched atop the dresser. Finally, he took hold of the string holding the lid, unraveling it and removing the cover to see something almost glossy, reflecting dimly in the candles of the room. He reached in, smoothing his hand over it; the texture was far more luxurious than anything he’d ever touched. With a dry mouth, Anders’s suspicions were realized when he pulled the item out, quickly realizing what he held in his hands were trousers completely made of silk.
Pure black in color, they unfurled with hardly a whisper, and Anders nearly considered himself a thief for only holding it; how much had Hawke spent purchasing these? The thought alone brought back the thoughts of being so shamefully undeserving of such attention and gifts. Baths were one thing but this? He wasn’t sure if he could accept.
With a brief glance into the box, he noticed that the trousers weren’t the only item included. Matching color slippers of velvet sat inside the box, and he very nearly ran after Hawke to ask what this was about. But rubbing the material against his fingers, and with a wiggle of his toes against the cold stone beneath his feet, he was suddenly reminded of his nakedness with a shiver.
This is ridiculous, he thought as he slipped on the trousers, which without resistance, slid on easier than anything he’d ever worn. The sensation against his skin was like nothing he’d ever experienced and stepping into the slippers was like having two clouds cushioning his each step. I am the very definition of excessive in this, he thought as he walked toward the bedroom, quickly opening the door.
“Hawke-”
“There you are! Oh, they look fantastic on you, love.”
“Hawke, how much did you-” With a press of Hawke’s finger against his lips, he stopped.
“Wait. Before you say anything else, I have one last part of this gift for you,” they said, moving away toward the bed and picking something up, turning back only to have another article of clothing, though this one had sleeves. “Can I help you put it on?”
Wordlessly, Anders watched Hawke with some intent on getting his word in before the evening was over. He outstretched his arm, allowing Hawke to slip the top on and realizing, once both arms were covered, that it was a robe of some sort.
“Hawke.”
“Shush. Come, come!”
He felt Hawke’s hand in his as he was dragged over to the large mirror on the other side of the chamber. Stubbornly, he refused to look, still frowning at Hawke, determined to speak his mind.
“Please look?”
He did so, slowly, and widened his eyes at the image in his reflection. The robe was a royal blue color - not silk like the trousers, but made of an equally fine and soft wool. All together, the ensemble greatly resembled Hawke’s own set of house robes. He lifted his hand up to the robe top over his heart, where an embroidery of the Amell crest stood out proudly.
“You look amazing,” came Hawke’s voice from the side, as they appeared in the reflection, smiling back at him. “What do you think?”
What could he say? Other than the kindness that Hawke had shown him through their love and support, the exceeding display of gift giving, as touching as it was, truly had him questioning if he was deserving of any of it.
“Told you I would spoil you,” Hawke teased with a nudge to his side, though his lack of reaction must have worried them, for they soon laid a tentative hand on his arm. “Is it not to your liking?”
“No,” Anders answered quickly. “It isn’t that at all. I just-,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why?”
“Because…I wanted to. And I wanted to let you know that without a reasonable doubt, this is your home. It’s official, see? Amell crest and everything, I’m afraid.”
Still at a loss for words, Anders shook his head. “They must have been so expensive. I c-can’t wear these. I can’t-” The room seemed to be getting smaller and more than ever, it seemed like every step he’d made in feeling he belonged at the estate with Hawke had only gone backwards about one hundred paces.
There was another squeeze to his arm, Hawke’s hand gently tugging him to turn and face toward them, their hands placed on his shoulders. “Anders…is this really about the clothes?”
“I don’t deserve any of it, Hawke. The longer I stay here, it becomes clearer and clearer. Leandra’s friendship. Your love.” There were no tears, but just an emptiness he associated with his thoughts when it came to wondering about the blessings he currently had in his life, despite how little of them there were. “No matter how many times I try to convince myself that this is my home here with you, it feels like I’m lying to myself.”
“My love, for as much as I say how much I want you to feel at home here, you don’t realize how much you’ve also made me feel home.”
“In your own house?” Anders questioned, confused.
“The house doesn’t matter!” Hawke almost laughed. Their hands slid down his front, choosing to hold his hands instead. “If I could wake up next to you here, in Darktown, on a boat, or out in the wilderness, then that’s where my home will always be.”
They gave his hands a quick squeeze and shake. “I won’t say you aren’t deserving of the high life because I think anyone should be able to. None of the fancy stuff matters in the end. Just think of it as a gift, and remember that you’re my home as much as I want you to feel at home here. Both in this place…and just with me.”
Hawke leaned in close, lips hovering over his and Anders closed the gap, wanting nothing more than to feel that closeness. He reveled in Hawke’s hands wrapping around him, gripping at his back and holding him tight, content to simply stay in their arms once they broke liplock.
“Thank you for the gift, Hawke. I’m afraid I made things awkward,” Anders laughed breathily, feeling somewhat foolish for bothering Hawke who’d been away from home for days with his emotional insecurities.
Clicking their tongue, Hawke led him by the hand toward the bed. “Nonsense. You're just passionate,” they claimed as they ushered him under the covers, shortly following suit. “How about we…cuddle tonight…and have some breakfast in bed tomorrow morning,” they suggested, leaning in again to place a kiss on his forehead “…and then see where the day takes us from there?” they grinned. “I know it’ll take some more time to get used to these high life sort of things, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy the perks while we have them.”
As they settled down close to begin said suggestions, Anders smiled. “As long as I wake up next to you, I believe I can manage them a bit a time.”
“Mm. Good.”
“Oh, and Hawke? I forgot to say this when you came in earlier.”
“Yes, Anders?”
“Welcome home, love.”