Written for intentandinvention! Non beta-ed but hope you like it! Went mostly off of the "Hawke looking after Anders and enjoying it" prompt but also includes Modern AU and a little bit of Hawke blushing :)
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Anders was undoubtedly the most difficult person that Hawke had ever shopped for.
Anders claimed otherwise, of course.
“I am not hard to shop for,” Anders said, personally offended at the insinuation. He huffed. “I like lots of things. You know me well enough to pick something.”
Hawke shook his head. “Anders, we’ve been together for five years. I know what you like. Problem is, I think I’ve bought every single type of coffee that Le Masques stocks, the number of sex toys under the bed outnumbers the days in the year, and we already have 3 cats.”
Anders shrugged, his eyes darting to the couch where Pounce lied curled up in the middle. “Another cat, maybe?”
“No.”
They were not getting another cat. Ser Mittens had utterly destroyed every piece of reachable paper in the house the last time they had been out to dinner. This included both toilet paper and Hawke’s tax returns, though Hawke had been more upset about the toilet paper if he was being honest. Beyond that, Pounce had taken to sitting at the end of the bed every time they had sex, his curious little eyes boring into them as Hawke pounded Anders into the bed. Hawke wasn’t sure what he’d do if another cat joined the audience.
So, no. No more cats.
“Do you want anything other than a new cat?” Hawke asked.
“Not telling you.”
Hawke pressed a finger to his forehead and rubbed. “You are the worst, you know that?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Anders said, a smirk on his face. He pressed a kiss to Hawke’s cheek, the full beard scratching lightly against his lips. “You always do. You’re the best Satinalia shopper.”
“By some manner of miracle,” Hawke muttered.
****
It wasn’t that he disliked buying Anders gifts. Quite the opposite, in fact; he loved caring for Anders, and giving him the perfect gift was one of Hawke’s favorite ways of showing it. The only problem was Anders’ overwhelmingly niche interests. Hawke was positive that their bookshelf was filled with every book on social anarchy that was available on the market. Their cupboards were overflowing with coffee, as Anders would brew just one cup before moving onto a different type, throwing the other beans behind an old, probably expired box of pancake mix.
So Hawke found himself at an impasse. His usual go-to’s weren’t going to work and he had no bloody clue what to do about it.
His first thought was food. Everyone loved food, right? And alcohol, too, which is how he found himself at a small wine and cheese shop just outside of Kirkwall. Hawke wasn’t too familiar with the intricacies of wine himself, as when he did drink, he usually found himself face down on the bar after a fair amount of well liquor.
Anders liked wine, though, and Hawke liked how Anders’ cheeks grew increasingly rosy with each sip. With an aura of feigned confidence, he grabbed a bottle with an Antivan label and looked it over studiously, pretending to parse the foreign words as a clerk walked by him.
It was red. It didn’t look any different than the other red wines surrounding him, but Anders usually drank red wine, so it would have to do. He then grabbed the most expensive salami he could find and shoved it into the crook of his arm before dropping it in front of the clerk at the checkout. As the clerk asked him if he had tried that particular wine before, he bluffed, though she didn’t seem too convinced.
****
Hawke could have stopped there. Anders would have likely been satisfied, but Hawke knew it wasn’t enough. With the wine and salami stashed safely away at Fenris’ house, where Anders would never find it, Hawke decided to rethink the whole cat business. Anders loved cats. What was a fourth when there were already three? It would make Anders happy and that was all that mattered to Hawke.
With that thought in mind, he made his way to the local shelter where they adopted Pounce. It was cacophonous inside, the cats and dogs alike screeching and barking for a moment of attention. Hawke regretted the decision to enter immediately and soon after turned to exit, but noticed a large shelf of haphazardly placed toys and treats to the right of him.
Maybe a cat was Anders first choice, but Hawke doubted that he’d be opposed to a large pile of various cat toys.
Ser Mittens would love the stuffed nug.
****
Two days later, he approached Varric for drinks.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hawke said. The Hanged Man was nearly empty besides Varric, himself, and the usual Tuesday night drunkards. He brought a glass full of beer to his lips and downed half of it in one gulp. “I just want him to be happy.”
“For crying out loud, Hawke. You’re going to be fine. He likes what you get him every year.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” Hawke asked. “I’ve run out of ideas. I don’t know what to do.”
“Alright,” Varric said. “So, you told me you bought some wine, right? Make a night out of it. You don’t have to always get him a thing, you know. Give him an experience.”
Hawke cocked his head. “An experience? We drink all the time. Wine is hardly special.”
“Then make it special. You know him better than I do. Plan something nice, make a nice dinner, whatever. Get him loosened up with all of the romance, touch him, make him feel loved and then take him to bed and –”
Hawke choked on a mouthful of beer and dropped the empty glass back onto the table. “I don’t need instructions on how to have sex with my boyfriend, but thanks.”
“I’m just saying, you have more options than you think you do,” Varric said.
“Maybe,” Hawke sighed. “But I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to set me up.”
“Oh, come on,” Varric said. “Would I lie to you about something like this?”
“Absolutely.”
Varric hummed. “Maybe to someone else, but not to you. Trust me on this one, alright? Blondie’s a huge romantic sap, he loves this shit.”
Hawke signaled the bartender for another round. “If you’re wrong, all of this is on your head.”
“And if I’m right?”
“Production rights to the movie.”
****
The morning of Satinalia was spent with Hawke’s family, as per tradition. There had been one minor argument over who was on dish duty (Carver), but despite that, the morning had been remarkably idyllic.
Or, it would have been, if Hawke hadn’t been spiraling internally the entire time. He hid it pretty well, but as Anders discussed their own gift-giving that would occur later in the day, his anxiety began to break through his façade.
As they returned home for their own celebration, Anders cornered him as Hawke clicked the front door shut behind him.
“Alright, something’s wrong,” Anders said. His eyes narrowed as they travelled up and down Hawke’s body, searching. “Tell me.”
“Nothing,” Hawke said, a bit too hurriedly. Anders looked unimpressed.
“You can’t lie to me. I know all of your tells.”
“Alright, then it’s nothing important,” Hawke said. He pointed to their tattered old couch that sat across from fireplace. They had lit it in the morning but the fire had dwindled, tiny little flecks of embers crackling and leaping off of the smoldering ash. “Go sit down, I’ve got something for you.”
Though Anders was completely unconvinced, he nevertheless followed Hawke’s instructions, throwing his coat on the rack before settling onto the couch. “I’m sitting,” he said, his voice a low drawl.
“Congratulations, you can follow directions,” Hawke said. He took a few steps forward until he was standing directly behind Anders and he placed his hands at the base of his shoulders. He began to rub, paying extra attention to the bony knobs of Anders’ spine. Anders spent most of his days working long, hard shifts at the hospital, and as a result his back creaked and cracked like a 70 year old woman’s.
A few minutes passed and Anders groaned. He tilted his head to the side so he could catch Hawke’s gaze. “Maker, have you taken classes or something?”
“If you consider YouTube a class, then sure,” Hawke said. There hadn’t been any time to take any real classes before Satinalia, but thankfully a few videos seemed to be doing the trick.
Anders laughed. “Well, my thanks to them, then.”
Hawke continued his motions, alternating between rubbing the pads of his thumbs into Anders’ shoulder and gently caressing the base of his neck. As his fingers began to ache he leaned down and nipped as Anders’ jaw, causing a shiver to run through him.
“Oh, just trying to get into my pants then?” Anders asked. He rubbed at the gooseflesh that Hawke’s kiss had left behind, a contented smile on his face.
“Maybe,” Hawke said. “I’ll be right back.”
Fenris had dropped the wine and meat off the previous day while Anders was at work, and Hawke had managed to keep the wine suitably hidden behind a rarely used tower of plastic containers while the salami sat behind a bag of untouched mushrooms. He grabbed the wine and a pair of thin stemmed glasses before returning to the sitting room where Anders sat, his left eyebrow cocked expectantly.
“Wow, someone really is trying to sleep with me.”
With a smirk, Hawke slipped next to him onto the couch and gave him the bottle. “You can have the honor of opening it.”
Anders looked it over. “Antivan teroldego? I’ve been wanting to try this one! How the hell did you know?”
“Satinalia magic meaning a lucky guess, right?” Anders chuckled. “You have a supernatural ability to know just what I want.”
A light flush coated Hawke’s cheek and he couldn’t even blame it on the wine yet. “As I said; magic.”
“Sometimes, I have to wonder if that’s true.” He uncorked the bottle with relative ease and poured a half glass for each of them before setting it on the coffee table. He brought his glass up to Hawke’s, clinking them together. “To my boyfriend, who is acting incredibly weird despite the wonderful wine and massage he has given me.”
“So you do like it then?” Hawke said. He quickly brought the glass up to his mouth before any other words could fall from it.
“Yes, of course.” Anders paused and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, is that why you’re acting so weird? You thought I wouldn’t like…what, you pampering me?”
“Well, I usually get you something more substantial,” Hawke admitted.
“You’re ridiculous, Garrett,” Anders scoffed. “Of course I love it. I love you.”
“We’ll see if you still believe that after I give you your next gift.” He sat his glass of wine onto the table and grabbed a poorly wrapped, lumpy looking gift from underneath their small tree.
“Ah, I was wondering about that one,” Anders said as Hawke dropped it into his lap. He offered the glass to Hawke. “Hold this for me.”
Hawke did and Anders opened the gift, a small burst of giggles escaping him as he unwrapped the life-sized stuffed nug. “Maker,” he said, choking back another laugh. “It’s not a cat, but it’s the next best thing. Mittens will love this.”
“Maybe she’ll stop destroying the damn toilet paper if she has a friend.”
“Doubtful.” He set the plush onto the floor next to him and took his glass of wine back from Hawke. “Now come here,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. “We can open the rest later.”
“I like where this is going,” Hawke said, a playful grin on his face.
Anders leaned forward and pressed his wine-stained lips to Hawke’s own. “Mm, the alcohol has undone my tightly wound chastity, I think.”
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2015-12-20 11:28 pm (UTC)--------
Anders was undoubtedly the most difficult person that Hawke had ever shopped for.
Anders claimed otherwise, of course.
“I am not hard to shop for,” Anders said, personally offended at the insinuation. He huffed. “I like lots of things. You know me well enough to pick something.”
Hawke shook his head. “Anders, we’ve been together for five years. I know what you like. Problem is, I think I’ve bought every single type of coffee that Le Masques stocks, the number of sex toys under the bed outnumbers the days in the year, and we already have 3 cats.”
Anders shrugged, his eyes darting to the couch where Pounce lied curled up in the middle. “Another cat, maybe?”
“No.”
They were not getting another cat. Ser Mittens had utterly destroyed every piece of reachable paper in the house the last time they had been out to dinner. This included both toilet paper and Hawke’s tax returns, though Hawke had been more upset about the toilet paper if he was being honest. Beyond that, Pounce had taken to sitting at the end of the bed every time they had sex, his curious little eyes boring into them as Hawke pounded Anders into the bed. Hawke wasn’t sure what he’d do if another cat joined the audience.
So, no. No more cats.
“Do you want anything other than a new cat?” Hawke asked.
“Not telling you.”
Hawke pressed a finger to his forehead and rubbed. “You are the worst, you know that?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Anders said, a smirk on his face. He pressed a kiss to Hawke’s cheek, the full beard scratching lightly against his lips. “You always do. You’re the best Satinalia shopper.”
“By some manner of miracle,” Hawke muttered.
****
It wasn’t that he disliked buying Anders gifts. Quite the opposite, in fact; he loved caring for Anders, and giving him the perfect gift was one of Hawke’s favorite ways of showing it. The only problem was Anders’ overwhelmingly niche interests. Hawke was positive that their bookshelf was filled with every book on social anarchy that was available on the market. Their cupboards were overflowing with coffee, as Anders would brew just one cup before moving onto a different type, throwing the other beans behind an old, probably expired box of pancake mix.
So Hawke found himself at an impasse. His usual go-to’s weren’t going to work and he had no bloody clue what to do about it.
His first thought was food. Everyone loved food, right? And alcohol, too, which is how he found himself at a small wine and cheese shop just outside of Kirkwall. Hawke wasn’t too familiar with the intricacies of wine himself, as when he did drink, he usually found himself face down on the bar after a fair amount of well liquor.
Anders liked wine, though, and Hawke liked how Anders’ cheeks grew increasingly rosy with each sip. With an aura of feigned confidence, he grabbed a bottle with an Antivan label and looked it over studiously, pretending to parse the foreign words as a clerk walked by him.
It was red. It didn’t look any different than the other red wines surrounding him, but Anders usually drank red wine, so it would have to do. He then grabbed the most expensive salami he could find and shoved it into the crook of his arm before dropping it in front of the clerk at the checkout. As the clerk asked him if he had tried that particular wine before, he bluffed, though she didn’t seem too convinced.
****
Hawke could have stopped there. Anders would have likely been satisfied, but Hawke knew it wasn’t enough. With the wine and salami stashed safely away at Fenris’ house, where Anders would never find it, Hawke decided to rethink the whole cat business. Anders loved cats. What was a fourth when there were already three? It would make Anders happy and that was all that mattered to Hawke.
With that thought in mind, he made his way to the local shelter where they adopted Pounce. It was cacophonous inside, the cats and dogs alike screeching and barking for a moment of attention. Hawke regretted the decision to enter immediately and soon after turned to exit, but noticed a large shelf of haphazardly placed toys and treats to the right of him.
Maybe a cat was Anders first choice, but Hawke doubted that he’d be opposed to a large pile of various cat toys.
Ser Mittens would love the stuffed nug.
****
Two days later, he approached Varric for drinks.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hawke said. The Hanged Man was nearly empty besides Varric, himself, and the usual Tuesday night drunkards. He brought a glass full of beer to his lips and downed half of it in one gulp. “I just want him to be happy.”
“For crying out loud, Hawke. You’re going to be fine. He likes what you get him every year.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” Hawke asked. “I’ve run out of ideas. I don’t know what to do.”
“Alright,” Varric said. “So, you told me you bought some wine, right? Make a night out of it. You don’t have to always get him a thing, you know. Give him an experience.”
Hawke cocked his head. “An experience? We drink all the time. Wine is hardly special.”
“Then make it special. You know him better than I do. Plan something nice, make a nice dinner, whatever. Get him loosened up with all of the romance, touch him, make him feel loved and then take him to bed and –”
Hawke choked on a mouthful of beer and dropped the empty glass back onto the table. “I don’t need instructions on how to have sex with my boyfriend, but thanks.”
“I’m just saying, you have more options than you think you do,” Varric said.
“Maybe,” Hawke sighed. “But I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to set me up.”
“Oh, come on,” Varric said. “Would I lie to you about something like this?”
“Absolutely.”
Varric hummed. “Maybe to someone else, but not to you. Trust me on this one, alright? Blondie’s a huge romantic sap, he loves this shit.”
Hawke signaled the bartender for another round. “If you’re wrong, all of this is on your head.”
“And if I’m right?”
“Production rights to the movie.”
****
The morning of Satinalia was spent with Hawke’s family, as per tradition. There had been one minor argument over who was on dish duty (Carver), but despite that, the morning had been remarkably idyllic.
Or, it would have been, if Hawke hadn’t been spiraling internally the entire time. He hid it pretty well, but as Anders discussed their own gift-giving that would occur later in the day, his anxiety began to break through his façade.
As they returned home for their own celebration, Anders cornered him as Hawke clicked the front door shut behind him.
“Alright, something’s wrong,” Anders said. His eyes narrowed as they travelled up and down Hawke’s body, searching. “Tell me.”
“Nothing,” Hawke said, a bit too hurriedly. Anders looked unimpressed.
“You can’t lie to me. I know all of your tells.”
“Alright, then it’s nothing important,” Hawke said. He pointed to their tattered old couch that sat across from fireplace. They had lit it in the morning but the fire had dwindled, tiny little flecks of embers crackling and leaping off of the smoldering ash. “Go sit down, I’ve got something for you.”
Though Anders was completely unconvinced, he nevertheless followed Hawke’s instructions, throwing his coat on the rack before settling onto the couch. “I’m sitting,” he said, his voice a low drawl.
“Congratulations, you can follow directions,” Hawke said. He took a few steps forward until he was standing directly behind Anders and he placed his hands at the base of his shoulders. He began to rub, paying extra attention to the bony knobs of Anders’ spine. Anders spent most of his days working long, hard shifts at the hospital, and as a result his back creaked and cracked like a 70 year old woman’s.
A few minutes passed and Anders groaned. He tilted his head to the side so he could catch Hawke’s gaze. “Maker, have you taken classes or something?”
“If you consider YouTube a class, then sure,” Hawke said. There hadn’t been any time to take any real classes before Satinalia, but thankfully a few videos seemed to be doing the trick.
Anders laughed. “Well, my thanks to them, then.”
Hawke continued his motions, alternating between rubbing the pads of his thumbs into Anders’ shoulder and gently caressing the base of his neck. As his fingers began to ache he leaned down and nipped as Anders’ jaw, causing a shiver to run through him.
“Oh, just trying to get into my pants then?” Anders asked. He rubbed at the gooseflesh that Hawke’s kiss had left behind, a contented smile on his face.
“Maybe,” Hawke said. “I’ll be right back.”
Fenris had dropped the wine and meat off the previous day while Anders was at work, and Hawke had managed to keep the wine suitably hidden behind a rarely used tower of plastic containers while the salami sat behind a bag of untouched mushrooms. He grabbed the wine and a pair of thin stemmed glasses before returning to the sitting room where Anders sat, his left eyebrow cocked expectantly.
“Wow, someone really is trying to sleep with me.”
With a smirk, Hawke slipped next to him onto the couch and gave him the bottle. “You can have the honor of opening it.”
Anders looked it over. “Antivan teroldego? I’ve been wanting to try this one! How the hell did you know?”
Internally, Hawke preened. “You know. Satinalia magic.”
“Satinalia magic meaning a lucky guess, right?” Anders chuckled. “You have a supernatural ability to know just what I want.”
A light flush coated Hawke’s cheek and he couldn’t even blame it on the wine yet. “As I said; magic.”
“Sometimes, I have to wonder if that’s true.” He uncorked the bottle with relative ease and poured a half glass for each of them before setting it on the coffee table. He brought his glass up to Hawke’s, clinking them together. “To my boyfriend, who is acting incredibly weird despite the wonderful wine and massage he has given me.”
“So you do like it then?” Hawke said. He quickly brought the glass up to his mouth before any other words could fall from it.
“Yes, of course.” Anders paused and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, is that why you’re acting so weird? You thought I wouldn’t like…what, you pampering me?”
“Well, I usually get you something more substantial,” Hawke admitted.
“You’re ridiculous, Garrett,” Anders scoffed. “Of course I love it. I love you.”
“We’ll see if you still believe that after I give you your next gift.” He sat his glass of wine onto the table and grabbed a poorly wrapped, lumpy looking gift from underneath their small tree.
“Ah, I was wondering about that one,” Anders said as Hawke dropped it into his lap. He offered the glass to Hawke. “Hold this for me.”
Hawke did and Anders opened the gift, a small burst of giggles escaping him as he unwrapped the life-sized stuffed nug. “Maker,” he said, choking back another laugh. “It’s not a cat, but it’s the next best thing. Mittens will love this.”
“Maybe she’ll stop destroying the damn toilet paper if she has a friend.”
“Doubtful.” He set the plush onto the floor next to him and took his glass of wine back from Hawke. “Now come here,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. “We can open the rest later.”
“I like where this is going,” Hawke said, a playful grin on his face.
Anders leaned forward and pressed his wine-stained lips to Hawke’s own. “Mm, the alcohol has undone my tightly wound chastity, I think.”
“Well, thank the Maker for that.”