In which Fenris is cold and doesn’t like cuddles, but secretly actually likes cuddles. Blame @fenedhiss. This makes references to Klexos, and can be set in the canon of that fic between two chapters that haven’t released yet. No spoilers.
“This is ridiculous,” Fenris grumbled, lying down with a huff on to his bedroll in the rather squat tent. Despite Dorian being the one to lose their extra tent, of course he had to be the one forced to share with someone else. Lavellan must just like Dorian too much to inconvenience him. “The altus should be the one being punished.”
The enclosure was dark as Fenris faced the wall of the tent, hearing it writhe under the rhythm of the constant winds from outside. The desert was staggeringly cold at night, a hard contrast from the hot Wastes they had endured during the day. From behind him he hear Solas speak. “Would you prefer him lying here instead?”
Fenris narrowed his eyes at the mage’s tone, straightforward and irritatingly neutral as always. To suggest such a thing so easily…
“Or perhaps he would take your place.”
The churn in his stomach at that was less disgust and more a greener mood, and the elf fought against it. This was not the time to be dealing with his conflicting attitudes and emotions right now. Not with their main object within such close proximity. If he had to be honest with himself, this was how he would prefer the party be divided, and for far more selfish reasons than he’d like to admit. He let out a frustrated sigh and shuddered at the cold, clenching his teeth together.
“Do not be ridiculous,” he grumbled, hoping to sound irritated but finding his tone closer to sulking instead. The mage chuckled, at any rate.
“Then I suppose we must endure our assignments,” he responded, that little smile evident in his voice, easier to hear than it was to see on his face at times.
Fenris closed his eyes and attempted to relax his furrowed brow. The chill was being somewhat thwarted by the structure surrounding them, but it wasn’t quite enough for Fenris to loosen his muscles in order for him to get to sleep. He huddled in a fetal position in an effort to contain as much of the eat escaping his core as he could, and yet he still found his torso shaking ever so slightly. Freakish temperature, and for one who was finally getting used to the air in Skyhold, this was a rather pathetic turn around.
Deciding to think about something besides the cold, his thoughts turned to the mage behind him, granting him a sense of warmth that he found more aggravating and borderline shameful than it was a comfort. It was not as if they didn’t spend time together, a generous amount in fact. Ever since the elf had agreed to help him with his memories, they had seen each other nearly every day for extended periods. Considering the knowing looks he caught Lavellan giving him throughout their current mission, he almost wondered if she didn’t devise this all on purpose.
He felt a brush against his back and froze, relaxing once he realized that it was Solas’s back as well. The rise and fall of his breathing seemed to indicate that he was asleep, or very close to it. He let out a sigh as he listened to his breathing, trying to allow it to lull him to sleep. The wind had almost ceased entirely, the dead sounds of the desert making each breath louder, the barely audible stretch of fabric pulled tightly over shoulders in tandem with each inhale.
Despite their disagreements and their rather stilted companionship early in the Inquisition, Fenris was surprised and frustrated in equal parts to find himself warming up to the mage, even so far as to desire his company. There were worse candidates for that, certainly, but he still wasn’t sure what exactly to make of the change, his emotions changing more rapidly as they met for their daily appointments. He was attractive, there was no real doubt about that, but even still. Fenris would almost hesitate to call him a friend, and not entirely for the normal reason he almost never called anyone his friend. Surely he must be going at least a little mad. Perhaps it was the rush of new memories setting him off balance, learning more and more about who he used to be and how that affects who he is now. Of course, the simplest answer was likely the correct one, but that would just make things…complicated.
It took the small point of touch against him pulling away from him to realize that he had started shaking again with the cold, that patch of skin below his shoulder blades now that much colder for having lost that contact. He let out a sigh through his nose, listening to the rustle of Solas moving about on his bedroll. What was he--?
The arm coming up over him was enough to surprise him and answer his question all in one fell swoop.
The warm chest and torso pressed against his back was a near euphoric feeling against the chill he’d been enduring since the sun had fallen below the horizon. He could not rest easy however, he would not accept this at face value.
“Somniari,” he muttered in a warning tone.
The hot breath on his neck sent a spread of goose flesh down his spine as Solas chuckled from behind him.
“I had decided that this would be preferable to magic. Do you not agree?”
This question was a crafted one, leaving Fenris no real option to rebuke. He should, really, but he couldn’t find it in him to remove the man bodily. He could feel the mage’s aura on his markings, but he had become so used to it now that he barely even noticed it anymore. That was also somewhat troubling, or at least he should find it troubling. He wasn’t quite sure if he did.
“I do not cuddle,” he tried, the edge in his voice dulled by the warmth spreading pleasantly through his body. His muscles had begun to finally loosen, the cold fended off successfully and retreating back towards the edges of the tent.
“Perhaps you will make an exception,” he answered, his voice tipping to a deeper tone as he neared sleep once again, the sound of it sending a different kind of warmth through Fenris. That one he had the decency so be somewhat ashamed of, at the very least.
He would have to make it seem as though he were enduring it, and only once. Even if he was sure that Solas could see straight through his prickly exterior by now, or perhaps he simply chose to ignore any of the biting comments he would let loose every now and then. They were coming less frequently, replaced instead by companionable silence and the occasional, baffling moments of genuine affection. Fenris decided that he would at least keep the front up, if nothing but only to keep his pride intact, and potentially to dissuade the ache in his chest that was begging him to turn over.
He made sure to exaggerate the sigh to compensate for the lack of anger that would be absent from his reply. “For now.”