FENRIS + GARRETT HAWKE
FENRIS GETS SOME POST FEAR-COMA TLC
G | COMPLETE
Fenris was not a pile of valuables tucked away in a dark cave, but Hawke still felt like a dragon, protecting the thing most precious to it. He’d ordered a mountain of Indian food, thinking the spices would be good to warm Fenris from the inside out. And good wine was necessary too. He’d plundered their own special occasion stash for two bottles. If awakening from several days of magically enforced sleep wasn’t special, he wasn’t sure what was.
He juggled the bag of delicious smelling food, two coffee mugs, and the two bottles of wine into the bedroom. Sure, he could’ve set it up at the table or even the living room, with proper glasses and real plates, played something bland and comforting on the television, but Fenris had made a beeline for the bedroom and Fade if Hawke was going to be the one to draw him out of there before he was ready. He set his offering down on the nightstand.
“I told them to make it so spicy we see forward into time itself, but I got the impression they didn’t take me seriously.” Hawke put one knee on the bed to climb up, a bottle of wine in one hand and a mug in the other.
Later, Fenris would want to go hit something. After he’d hit some things, then he’d be ready to talk to and see people who weren’t his fiance. For the time being, all he wanted was the quiet and comfort of his own space, and Hawke was the only one allowed in it.
He hadn’t looked happy at all since he’d awakened, not until the moment Hawke was climbing onto the bed with a bag that almost certainly included samosas. That, and the suggestion of food so spicy that they would see the future, was enough to finally bring a faint trace of a smile to Fenris’s face. He shifted over promptly, making a bit of extra room and then moving to press his shoulder against Hawke’s as soon as Hawke was settled. He wanted the reminder that touch didn’t mean pain anymore.
“And wine as well,” he remarked. “You are very good to me.”
“I’m just buttering you up for the inevitable bout of hovering headed your way.” Hawke pressed his face to Fenris’ shoulder for a long moment and then dropped a kiss there. Experience had taught him that Fenris would open up as he was good and ready – at least with him anyway – so he went about pulling pouring wine into the mug and handing it over. Once that was passed on, he turned to pulling containers out of the bag.
“I know we don’t eat in bed, but I thought maybe just this once…” He glanced sideways at Fenris, eyebrows raised and eyes full of gentle concern. “We can burn the sheets if they can’t be saved.”
“Just this once.” Fenris hated crumbs in the bed, yes, and he knew chomping on food all over the place was how you got vermin in your house. Today, however, could be an exception to the rule, because he was very hungry and also very uninterested in setting foot outside their room yet. He could also appreciate food and not making a mess with it as a pleasant distraction from being trapped by his own fears. He would talk to Hawke eventually, tell him what happened, but he wasn't quite finished enough with processing it to do that yet.
Hawke smiled softly and handed Fenris a container of samosas. Then he pulled out a stack of napkins. He’d normally have slotted them between his and Fenris’ thighs, but he was enjoying pressing up against the length of him without obstruction. He reached blindly and put them on the headboard behind them instead.
“I know it makes me a bit of a hypocrite but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t go anywhere I can’t follow ever again.” It was said lightly - knowing full well Fenris didn’t choose a nightmare coma. “Barkspawn missed you terribly. There was a great deal of whining.”
Fenris huffed a little bit of a laugh. He imagined that both Barkspawn and Hawke did a great deal of whining, or at least pacing and fretting. He knew how Hawke hated problems that he couldn’t solve. He also knew that Hawke tended to make jokes when he was worried as much as he did any other time.
“I will do my best to avoid it,” he said, and that was certainly true. Fenris had discovered that he far preferred facing problems with Hawke by his side or at his back than he did trying to do it on his own. He took a bite out of his first samosa before continuing--the flaky fried pastry and spicy filling tasted better than ever, after a few days of not eating. Eating also gave him a moment to think before he told Hawke what had happened.
“I was back in Minrathous, a slave again. My master had no face. I owe Luke thanks for helping me see the path to freedom.”
Hawke plucked a samosa out of Fenris’ container and took an enthusiastic bite. His appetite had been brutally absent for days and his stomach had been punishing him in that hollow grinding way he remembered oh-so-fondly from his trip across the Waking Sea. Luckily, he swallowed properly before Fenris spoke again or he might have inhaled his food.
“That—“ He swallowed again, giving Fenris a heartworn stare. “That’s terrible. I hate so much that you had to go through that again, dreamscape or not. If…” His eyes dropped away, but he pressed closer and reached to squeeze Fenris’ forearm. “If we had more than a shadowy possible culprit, I’d pack a hunting bag right now.”
“When the culprit is less shadowy, I will be first to join that hunting party,” Fenris grimly replied. Being back in Minrathous, being enslaved again, being so terribly alone again...it was the worst scenario he could possibly have imagined for himself. Which, he supposed, was how he had ended up there. Regardless, he had a sword to bury in whomever sent him there.
But now he had Hawke, and their comfortable bed, and samosas. He crossed his legs on the bed and leaned into Hawke a little, as if that could ground him more firmly in reality. He missed Thedas on days like this, regardless of how important the mission in Atlantis was.
Hawke had rarely reacted well to feeling helpless, but he swallowed the instinct to complain about feeling ineffectual here. They were supposed to be doing a job, but some days he was convinced they were just there to be tortured in a variety of imaginative ways. Still, Fenris was his primary focus, so shoving that aside was shockingly easy.
“Something to look forward to, then,” Hawke sighed, lifting an arm to brush away from Fenris’ face. He hadn’t hesitated to touch him in a long time, but he did worry the dream might have made too much touch loathsome. “I interrogated a dream walker, hoping I could get to you that way. His own daughter was still asleep at the time though so I suppose I should’ve known that was asking too much.” Another samosa was claimed but Hawke only nibbled at it.
From anyone else, Fenris might have objected to any touch. Hawke was such a long-standing safe person, though, that Fenris actually appreciated it. He took one of Hawke's hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, just to make that clear.
“I assumed that you and Varric did everything you could think of to help,” he said, because he also wanted it clear that he knew Hawke had done his best for him. It was the kind of thing Hawke would worry about. “And I will be fine. I merely need a day or two in which I do not have to talk to anyone but you.”
Everything was a stretch. Hawke was sure there’d been a dozen things at least he hadn’t thought to try and another dozen that would’ve gotten him instantly arrested. Maybe he was out of practice at annoying his way to a solution without ending up in the stocks. He lifted their clasped hands and pressed his mouth to the back of Fenris’, resting his face there for a moment.
“Take as many days as you need. I’ll fend off the well-meaning sharks,” he quipped. Bethany might sad face at him, but he knew she’d understand. Since he was in no hurry to let go, he dropped their hands into his own lap and used his free hand to grab a fork and stab a samosa. He held out the fried offering with a soft little smirk. “I mean, not without being a bit of a well-meaning shark myself, but thank the Maker you’re used to it.”
“You are different.” Hawke always had been a class unto himself. After so long together, Fenris had found that there were many times when he once might have preferred to be entirely alone but now preferred Hawke’s company. After the time they had spent apart while Hawke aided the Inquisition and Fenris sailed around killing slavers with Isabela, Fenris was particularly glad to have him close by. Hawke was a comfort that nothing else could be, even spicy fried pastries.
The pastries were very good, though, so Fenris took a few more bites to finish his samosa off before leaning into Hawke’s shoulder. “It is strange to feel so tired after sleeping for days on end,” he commented as he settled in. “I do not want to sleep, but I do not particularly wish to move, either.”
It always did something to Hawke’s heart to hear Fenris mark him as special. Obvious as it was, it was still nice to hear and, even more, it was nice to answer with an equally special kind of softness reserved for Fenris alone.
“How about this…” Sensing that the food could take a break for a bit, Hawke gingerly took the containers and set them off on the nightstand. “You can sit there drinking wine while I read you something less terrible than the drivel I’ve been reading you while you were asleep or you can set that mug aside and I can give you a massage.” He lifted his hands and waggled his fingers, though his gaze was more patiently loving than suggestive.
Even after ten years, Fenris was still sometimes a little surprised at Hawke’s ability to say or do exactly the right thing for him. The man was so gifted at saying the wrong thing, usually because he thought it was funny (and it often was), but with Fenris, he nearly always got it just right.
“Wine first, and then the massage?” Fenris asked, a little hopeful note entering his voice. The wine would be perfect for helping him relax a bit, which would make the massage even better. Throw in the soothing sound of Hawke’s voice as he read to him, and that all stacked up into a day about as perfect as one following a nightmare prison stay could be.
For his part, Hawke smiled soft and wide, and leaned over to give Fenris a light kiss. He reclaimed the wine bottle and filled both mugs before rolling sideways to rummage through the nightstand. “I set a book aside for when you woke up. The librarian tells me it’s dramatic and vengeful, with some treasure, romance, and heartbreak thrown in.” Coming back up to the bed with The Count of Monte Cristo in hand, Hawke slotted back into place pressed against Fenris’ side.
“It seems only reasonable that the opera-addicted love of my life should enjoy such a spectacle.” Hawke lowered his voice to a smirking whisper as he opened the book on his thighs. “But just elbow me when you’re ready to move onto the massage portion. I have an actual bookmark and everything.”