Title: In Confidence
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: PG
Length: 960 words
Content notes: No content warnings apply.
Author notes: Written for the ‘cut’ prompt in fan_flashworks.
Summary: After getting injured on a solo job, Fenris needs Anders’ help. Anders obliges but extracts a promise on Hawke’s behalf.

***

Fenris put his hand to the back of his bicep. When he pulled it away, it was bloody. Venhedis. He thought that last slaver had gotten him. He arched his neck to look over his shoulder at the wound. It was open and ragged. He wouldn’t be able to reach back there to stitch it. He needed help, preferably magical in nature.

He hadn’t been to Anders’ clinic since the night he had spent with Hawke. Anders clearly knew about their liaison, but from his snide comments, it seemed that he knew little of the detail. Fenris would not disabuse him of the idea that Hawke had chosen Anders over himself. It was better than the alternative.

Fenris took another look at the ragged wound and sighed. He quickly picked through the belongings of the slavers he had killed, pocketing any coins or letters he found, and set off for Darktown.

Anders was just finishing up with the last of his patients when Fenris arrived. The mage looked tired. His hair had fallen out of its customary tie, lank locks falling around his face, and his eyes had dark circles beneath them. Fenris waited just outside the door as Anders showed a child how to walk on crutches. It wasn’t until the child had hobbled away and Anders came out to extinguish the lantern that Fenris made his appearance.

“Andraste’s ass!” Anders swore as Fenris stepped out of the shadows. “What in the Void are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” Fenris said. He twisted his arm so that Anders could see the gash along the back of his upper arm. Anders’ lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fine,” Anders said with a sigh, and turned back into the clinic. Fenris followed him in.

Anders gestured at a table in the centre of the room, and Fenris walked over to stand beside it. He waited while Anders ducked into the room out the back. When he returned, he had some cloth and a bowl of water, which he placed on the table.

“How’d you get this?” Anders asked as he dipped the cloth in the water and washed the wound. The water in the bowl soon turned pink from Fenris’s blood.

“Slavers,” Fenris said with a grunt. He had been sloppy, careless. They shouldn’t have been able to get behind his guard.

“Where’s Hawke? I would have expected her to accompany you here.”

“Hawke wasn’t there.”

Anders glanced up, his eyebrows rising, before returning his focus to the injury. “Moonlighting on your own?” he murmured. “Sara wouldn’t be pleased to hear that.”

Fenris could feel a blush darkening his cheeks but was unsure which part of Anders’ comment was the cause. That Anders was implying he was, in some way, betraying Hawke? That he was doing something that would displease her? Or just the simple use of her first name, which recalled to him their night together? More than that, he didn’t know why Anders would care.

“She does not need to know,” Fenris said, and he wasn’t sure if it was a simple statement of fact or a request.

“Mmmm,” Anders said noncommittally. He placed the blood-soaked cloth back into the bowl of water, and picked up a dry one. He patted the wound dry, though Fenris’s blood still stained the white fabric.

“I’m going to need to manually position the sides of the wound together to ensure it heals correctly,” Anders said.

Fenris just nodded. Anders put down the cloth and picked up a small vial. It contained a faintly glowing blue liquid that Fenris would recognise anywhere. Lyrium. Anders popped the cork with his thumb and downed the contents of the vial in one go. He closed his eyes as the lyrium coursed through him, his skin briefly crackling with blue light. When he opened his eyes again, the tiredness seemed to have left him.

Anders reached out and Fenris braced himself. When Anders placed his hands on the skin of his upper arm, the magic within him resonated down Fenris’s brands, setting up a reverberation that made him clench his teeth. And it was about to get worse. Anders spent a couple of minutes testing and repositioning his hands, until he seemed satisfied with the effect that he achieved.

“Okay,” he said. “This will hurt.”

“Get on with it, mage,” Fenris said with a growl.

He closed his eyes as Anders drew from the Fade. The magic coursed into him, setting his brands on fire like lines of oil in his skin. Fenris did not scream, though it was agony. He was good at staying silent.

And then it was over. Anders looked critically at Fenris’s arm, then gave a nod that spoke of satisfaction. Fenris twisted his arm and looked over his shoulder. The gash had been perfectly joined up. Even the lyrium brand that had been severed was completely restored. Whatever his failings, Fenris had to admit that Anders was one of the best healers he had ever seen.

“Thank you,” he said.

The tiredness was back in Anders’ eyes. He nodded, and Fenris reached for his coin purse to pay him for his services, but Anders waved his hand away.

“Just do me a favour,” he said. “Quit the solo act. If you got yourself killed, and she knew I knew, I’d never heard the end of it.”

Fenris blinked, then nodded reluctantly. Anders raised his eyebrows, clearly expecting more of a response. Fenris sighed.

“I won’t hunt down any more slavers alone,” he promised.

Anders seemed satisfied with that. He picked up the soiled cloth and bowl and took them into the back room. A moment later, he yelled out, “And make sure you shut the door on your way out!”