"Is it true?" Hawke asked Anders one evening in the clinic after Anders had just finished patching up the scratches and wounds from their latest encounter with Lowtown bandits.
"Is what true?"
As he turned, Hawke's eye was caught by the glint of light off Anders's hair. He paused, imagining for a moment that he could be the light and just touch Anders fleetingly whenever he liked.
"Hawke?" Anders cocked his head to the side. "Are you alright?"
"I was just wondering," Hawke continued, "if it's true that a kiss can cure what ails you."
Hawke watched the color rise to Anders's cheeks. "What do you mean?" Anders asked, taking a step closer to Hawke.
"You're the healer," Hawke insisted, smiling. "Surely you've heard that a kiss is a cure for all troubles. My mother used to tell me that, although she was no mage so maybe it didn't work."
Anders raised an eyebrow, an expression that Hawke loved inducing on him. "I think that's a ploy for mothers to get their children to stop crying," he suggested.
Hawke found his hands on Anders's hips; they were close now, so close that he could feel the other man's warmth. "But how do we know unless we test it?"
Anders smiled perhaps a bit shyly. "If kisses were cures, we would have no need of healing magic."
"Maybe, but I still don't believe you." Hawke gently pulled on Anders's hips, drawing him closer yet. His next words were spoken just a breath away from Anders's lips. "Maybe you should prove it."
Anders was the one who closed the space between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that changed slowly into nibbling on each other's lips and then into hands on cheeks and behind necks and bodies pressed against each other and Hawke left breathless.
The one to pull away first was Anders, who wore a lopsided grin. "Is that your proof?" he teased, looking down at the still-healing scratches on Hawke's arm.
Hawke looked between his arm and Anders's face. "Hm," he murmured, leaning forward towards Anders again, "margin of error. We should do more trials." He pulled Anders to him, their bodies meeting, their eyes locked on each other's. "Just to make sure."
Anders/Hawke, PG-13
"Is what true?"
As he turned, Hawke's eye was caught by the glint of light off Anders's hair. He paused, imagining for a moment that he could be the light and just touch Anders fleetingly whenever he liked.
"Hawke?" Anders cocked his head to the side. "Are you alright?"
"I was just wondering," Hawke continued, "if it's true that a kiss can cure what ails you."
Hawke watched the color rise to Anders's cheeks. "What do you mean?" Anders asked, taking a step closer to Hawke.
"You're the healer," Hawke insisted, smiling. "Surely you've heard that a kiss is a cure for all troubles. My mother used to tell me that, although she was no mage so maybe it didn't work."
Anders raised an eyebrow, an expression that Hawke loved inducing on him. "I think that's a ploy for mothers to get their children to stop crying," he suggested.
Hawke found his hands on Anders's hips; they were close now, so close that he could feel the other man's warmth. "But how do we know unless we test it?"
Anders smiled perhaps a bit shyly. "If kisses were cures, we would have no need of healing magic."
"Maybe, but I still don't believe you." Hawke gently pulled on Anders's hips, drawing him closer yet. His next words were spoken just a breath away from Anders's lips. "Maybe you should prove it."
Anders was the one who closed the space between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that changed slowly into nibbling on each other's lips and then into hands on cheeks and behind necks and bodies pressed against each other and Hawke left breathless.
The one to pull away first was Anders, who wore a lopsided grin. "Is that your proof?" he teased, looking down at the still-healing scratches on Hawke's arm.
Hawke looked between his arm and Anders's face. "Hm," he murmured, leaning forward towards Anders again, "margin of error. We should do more trials." He pulled Anders to him, their bodies meeting, their eyes locked on each other's. "Just to make sure."