soft little fenders ficlet because the mood struck <3
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Anders has been growing his hair out. It hangs past his shoulders now; sometimes he ties it back, other times he leaves it free, lets it fall where it may, not minding when the wind swirls it into tangles. On such occasions, Fenris finds himself running his fingers through it, gauntlet removed and touch gentle, easing the knots loose. Anders' hair is soft, and running his fingers through it feels nice.
From the smile Anders always gives him after, it feels nice to him too, so Fenris keeps doing it, even if he is unused to--and therefore unsure about--giving such simple affections.
It's warm enough on the northern border between the Free Marches and Antiva that Anders ties his hair up in a messy bun more often than not when he goes to work in the tiny garden they've started behind the cabin they're currently inhabiting. It's a nice cabin, and easily defensible, too--they may stay here longer than they've stayed anywhere else.
While Anders tends to the plants, Fenris fills a wash basin and cleans the pile of laundry that has gathered over the past week. His attention is divided, half on his soapy hands, half on Anders. Some strands of his hair fall loose from the tie. If one gets in his face, he blows and shakes it away, still intent on his work. His hands move with practised motions, firm and precise.
By the time Fenris is pinning up their clothes to dry, Anders is finished. He takes the washing basin with him when he goes inside, off to wash up himself.
Fenris follows once he's done his task, and finds Anders sitting on the end of the bed they share, his hands clean and working a brush through his untied hair.
The sight of him makes Fenris still just to take him in, even though he's been treated to the sight of Anders relaxed, in loose, plain clothes, and with the lines of his face smoothed out, many times now. Almost every day, as Kirkwall fades into the past, relinquishing its hold.
Fenris finally steps over to him, and Anders lifts his face to meet his gaze. "Beautiful mage," Fenris murmurs as he cups Anders' cheek and leans down to kiss him.
Anders' fingers clutch the back of Fenris' tunic as he returns the kiss, holding onto him. He always does something of the sort when Fenris initiates, like he needs him closer, needs him to linger as long as possible.
Fenris draws his fingers through Anders' combed hair, both enjoying the sensation and as a gesture of reassurance. When they part from the kiss, Fenris takes the brush from Anders' hand and settles on the mattress with him, picking up from where he interrupted Anders' brushing.
As he passes the brush through Anders' hair, Anders goes boneless, shoulders completely loose and head tipped forward. Fenris can't resist sweeping his hair aside to kiss his nape, which earns him a soft sound of approval.
The last of the tangles are smoothed out easily, then Fenris sets the brush aside on the patchy blanket, bringing both hands up to gather Anders' hair within them. The tie is around Anders' wrist; he would hand it over, if Fenris offered to put his hair back up, but that hadn't crossed Fenris' mind, initially. He only wants to touch, and wants to soothe.
Still, an unexpected inclination comes over him as he's running his fingers through. He parts Anders' hair into a few narrow strands, beginning to weave them in a way that starts forming a braid, even though Fenris has never learned how. At least, he has no recollection of learning how, but muscle memory takes over, and soon Anders' hair is pulled into an intricate braid that starts wide and tapers to a tiny point.
"I didn't know you could do this," Anders says as he raises a hand and brushes his fingers blindly over the braid, feeling the weave of it.
"Neither did I," Fenris admits. "Maybe... I did this for Varania, or our mother. A long time ago."
Anders turns enough to look at him, taking his hand in a comforting hold.
Thinking of his family doesn't sting as much as it did after Varania's betrayal. Fenris is almost at peace with it, almost able to accept a past he doesn't remember but was still important to him, once upon a time. Regardless, Anders is his family now, and the others too, even if they've mostly gone separate ways. Anders is the one here with him, holding his hand and looking at him with love in his eyes.
"I like it," Anders says. "Will you do it for me again?"
Fenris nods. "Whenever you like."
Anders smiles and shifts closer, leaning in to rest against Fenris' chest. Fenris wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, as eager as Anders always is for there to be no space left between them.
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