I’m sorry i’m late!! But if you’re ok with an extra prompt for November, I remember an ask thing awhile back where one of the questions was about fenhawke and gift giving, and you mentioned that the gifts Fenris gives are often strange & at times even Hawke needs them explained to him, and it’d be so interesting to see how this would go??
“It’s a…harness,” Hawke said.
“Yes,” Fenris answered. “Did I get the size wrong?”
Fenris looked utterly impartial, except for the brightness in his eyes. He was excited about the gift, but worried about showing how excited. Hawke chewed his lip for a moment, and lifted the harness against his chest.
“Well, I…I don’t really have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, but I’ll give it a try.”
Fenris’s brow furrowed. He frowned. “What?”
“I’m not opposed…or anything. I guess. I mean, I just haven’t thought about it before. How – how would we…?” He tried to put it on.
Fenris looked more confused, and a little upset.
“It’s not for you,” he said. “It’s for a plough horse.”
Hawke dropped his arms as much as he could. He was hopelessly tangled in the harness. “Um…right.”
They stared at each other. The moment stretched, a little too long. Twisted awkwardly in the harness, Hawke’s back began to hurt.
“I don’t own a plough house,” Hawke said at last.
“You said you wanted to get a farm one day. After things had settled.”
“So this is…for then?”
“You…thought it was for you to wear?”
Hawke tried to get out of the tangle he had made. He couldn’t. He wasn’t a man who embarrassed easy, but his face felt aflame. For once he was the one having trouble meeting the other’s eyes. “Look,” he said, “I think it’s better we never talk about this again.”
Fenris’s chuckle was not entirely welcome, even if it was the kind of laugh that burst forth without control or conscious decision. The elf approached, his bare feet silent, and his hands were sure as he began the task of untangling Hawke.
“You were really going to try it. For my sake.”
“Well,” Hawke said. “You wore that outfit for me…”
Fenris cleared his throat. His hands stilled only for a moment. He said, “That was hardly an ‘outfit’ and I think it should be added to the list of things we don’t discuss.”
“Kaffas how did you get your arm at that angle?”
“Right, this falls under talking about it.”
Fenris laughed again, low and warm. Hawke peered at him as he worked.
“Fenris,” he asked.
Hawke came free suddenly and straightened, rolling his shoulders, watching the way Fenris examined the gift to make sure it had not come to harm. He could see now what a fine thing it was, well crafted and expensive – better than anything his family had owned in Lothering.
“Why did you buy me a harness for a plough horse I don’t own?”
“Oh,” he said. “It’s for that farm you’re always talking about retiring to one day. We would require a plough horse, wouldn’t we?”
Hawke stared at him, so blunt and earnest. “You would live on a farm with me?” he asked - in wonder not only that he would be willing to try, but that he had been thinking of their future at all.
“I know little of farming, but I assume you would not be opposed to teaching me the necessary skills,” Fenris said, unaware of the riot going on in Hawke’s heart. His attention on the harness, he missed the expression that crossed the other man’s face. “I can take it back if you like,” he offered. “Aveline suggested I buy you a nice tie, instead. There was a…” he trailed off, looking up as Hawke reached for him, and he stepped without question into the mage’s embrace.
“Don’t take it back,” Hawke told him.
Fenris smiled. “For your next birthday,” he said, “I will buy you a set of shears.”
“For the sheep. You’re always talking about – Hawke?” he looked startled, though not troubled, when Hawke lifted him bodily and began to carry him toward the door. “Where are you taking me?”