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"This is... opulent," Anders whispers.
"You always know the best words," Hawke says, nudging him with his elbow.
Isabela twirls her skirt and adjusts her golden mask over her eyes. The masks leave the lower part of their faces uncovered and Isabela's smile is visible and predatory. "So much gold everywhere, we should really help them with redecorating."
"But first we dance," Hawke says and takes her hand. They look good on the dancefloor, Isabela's dress is surprisingly tasteful and Hawke looks dashing in soft brown leathers, with a mask resembling something between a wolf and a dog. A little too fereldan, maybe.
But at this ball, he isn't the only one looking more like a rugged highway man than a dressed up peacock. Which anyone with eyes can appreciate. Anders grabs a glass with something sparkly from a passing tray and lets his eyes wander over the people on and off the dancefloor. At last, he finds who he is looking for. Standing next to a massive bouquet of flowers, Fenris glares onto the dancefloor through a plain black mask, which doesn't distract at all from his looks.
Anders makes his way over to him, around the dancefloor, not feeling guilty at all for letting his eyes feast on Fenris. A dark vest, accentuating his slim waist, dangerously tight trousers made of black leather. And a cape! Shimmering black fabric with silver patterns woven in, which he wears draped over his right shoulder. His white hair brushed to one side, looking like spun silver in the lights.
He looks incredible. If someone would draw a painting of him, Anders would hang it up in his bedroom — which he doesn’t have — and stare at it every night.
And in other incredible events — he smiled at Anders today. He nearly missed it, it was gone so quickly, but he did, just when they climbed out of the carriage. Anders saw a bird and made a joke, something silly, he's already forgotten what it was, but he still remembers the little smile on Fenris' face at his joke.
And Anders was never one to be careful and shy, nor the testing the waters kind of guy. If Fenris smiled at him today, really smiled, and looks at him like that, who is he to deny this. And if he looks at him — oh he looks at him. Anders stumbles, spilling some of that sparkly drink. To be caught in Fenris' gaze like this, he was not prepared for this.
But his feet carry him forward and he tries to lean against the flower arrangement to greet Fenris but of course, it doesn't hold him and he stumbles into the thing but then a strong hand pulls him back. Fenris, gloved hand holding his arm and pulling him up, sets him back to his feet.
"Hello, handsome stranger," Anders huffs with a breath, putting on his most winning smile.
"You should be more careful, madam," Fenris says, for a second lingering on Anders' lips and then quickly looking away.
Wait a minute.
Glad that his frown is hidden under the red and yellow silk mask he wears (with the feathers and the glitter, oh it was the prettiest thing anybody has ever bought for him and he will be forever grateful to Hawke for getting it for him) Anders replays what Fenris said with that kind of detached voice.
He doesn't recognize him! He didn't see him get dressed in this dream of yellow layers, a long dress with a swinging skirt and glittering embroidery and the red gossamer shawl he draped over his shoulders. Fenris doesn't see him, he sees just some rather tall woman.
Leaning a little closer to Fenris, Anders lets his shawl drop over his shoulder. This isn't the first time he experimented with his gender expression, making his voice sound lighter, more breathy with a little bit of an accent, he’s done this before. "Are you hiding here in the dark, handsome stranger, or are you waiting for someone?"
Anders brushed his hair for half an hour today and put in some of that fancy stuff found in their rooms, it shines now, flowing over his shoulder. He catches Fenris glancing at said shoulder and its silken cover, but he quickly looks away again.
"I am waiting for someone."
"But for the time waiting," Anders lets out a high pitched sigh and holds out his glass, "could you get me another drink?"
"Certainly," Fenris says and briskly walks over to the bar, ordering something. He doesn't even notice the stares, how every man and woman he passes looks at him, their mouths open as they forget to keep talking. He is truly the reason for the word 'stunning' to exist.
Fenris returns with a big glass of something pink and blue, overloaded with fruits for decoration. He hands it to him with a small bow, his gaze lingering on Anders' lips again for a second and then he briskly turns back around, facing the dancefloor again.
"Thank you my dear, this looks delicious." Anders has to eat some fruits first to even get to the drink, but when he finally can access the straw, it is indeed delicious. "This is so good, would you like to try it?"
Fenris eyes him, lingering on his lips again, and then leans over to suck on the straw and, oh dear. There is something about Fenris' lips wrapped around the straw that he just had in his mouth, that makes him all tingly inside. Especially combined with that look from under his — if Anders had anything to say about that — illegally long lashes. Hopefully his masks hides how much he is blushing.
"It is indeed very good, thank you, madam." Fenris turns to face the dancefloor again, his eyes roaming over the crowd.
"So, who are you waiting for?"
“A friend.”
Anders forces his voice into a higher, breathier register. “A lucky lady?”
“A lucky... lord,” Fenris says, halting at the last word.
Anders pouts over the edge of his pinkish drink. “Well, how unfortunate for me.” He dramatically throws his hair back and turns away. “Then I wish you luck with your... lord.” And he lets his skirt flare out after him as he strides away.
He gets rid of the glass and weaves in and out of the crowd, until he is sure that nobody’s watching him and slips through a hidden door. Isabela’s plans prove to be accurate, he is in an empty corridor of the servant’s wing. The long flowing skirt is not very useful for sneaking through the hallway, and he takes off the upper layer, leaving him in a knee length skirt. He brushes over the beautiful embroidery before he leaves it in some servant’s room. Maybe someone else will be happy about the fabric.
Upstairs, he knocks on the door, like they had planned, and it opens to Isabela’s smiling face. “Right on time,” she says and lets him in.
Shoving the mask into a pocket, Anders steps in and checks out the tea cart with drinks and fruits. There’s a few strawberries in the bowl he picks out and pops one in his mouth when the door opens again. Turning around, his eyes fall on Fenris, still with the mask on, one hand on the door handle and he stares at Anders. Anders holds his gaze, setting another strawberry between his lips, letting it sit there, until he sucks it into his mouth with a pop. Fenris’ eyes widen under the mask.
Hawke tells them to wait for the signal, and then sneaks out with Isabela, leaving Anders alone with Fenris. Who is unnervingly quiet, still standing near the door and looking at Anders.
“Did you find your lord?” Anders asks, just to fill the silence.
“You.” Fenris’ voice is suddenly right behind him.
Anders startles, taking a quick step backwards from Fenris’ angry gaze. “What? What did I do now?”
“You pretended to be a woman.”
“Oh, come on, it was just a little fun.” Anders picks another strawberry from the bowl. “Or did I scare your admirer away? If so, I apologize.”
Now Fenris looks more confused than angry. “What admirer?”
“The one you were waiting for.” Anders holds the strawberry to his lips, taking a bite. He wonders if the juices paint his lips red.
“What do you mean?”
Anders gestures with the half strawberry. “Your Lord, whoever he was. Not surprising that you found an admirer so quickly, everyone was watching you, they were all —“
“I was waiting for you, idiot mage,” Fenris growls, taking the strawberry away from him. He licks the bite and then puts it in his mouth. “I was hoping to find you.”
There is that smile again, that little twitch of the corner of his lips. And Anders was never one to be careful. “Well, you found me,” he says, leaning closer. “And you stole my strawberry.”
“Is that so?” Fenris voice has dropped into a lower register, sending shivers down Anders’ spine. And he stares at his lips.
“Yes.” Anders leans even closer, his lips brushing against Fenris’ and in the next moment he finds himself pressed against the wall, and Fenris kissing him senseless, devouring him until he runs out of air. He kisses down Fenris’ jaw, just to be able to take a breath. “You know,” he mumbles between kisses, “there is a perfectly good couch over there, and I’m wearing a skirt.”
Fenris groans, setting his teeth against Anders’ neck. “On the couch, now.”
He should definitely wear pretty dresses more often.