"Something smells good here."
Anders sniffed the air curiously while he tried to tug off his soaked boots. Hawke was already grinning.
"Orana is at it again. It always smells good when she makes her pastries."
Fenris however... he had perked up as if Satinalia had come early, suddenly in a hurry to wipe his feet and take off his armour.
"This is no pastry, Hawke. This is much better."
"Something from Tevinter?" Anders watched Fenris curiously for a moment before following his example and working off his pieces of armour. Looked like they weren't leaving again tonight, if it were up to Fenris.
With a shrug and a laugh Hawke followed suite, piling his heavy plate with his greaves and gauntlets for Sandal to clean.
"Seheron, actually. But the magisters import the beans to all corners of Tevinter as surely as slaves. I never had the opportunity-" Fenris paused, inhaling the scent deeply before a small, proud smile appeared. "I tasted it for the first time with the Fog Warriors. A luxury of the magisters, but now it was for me. I doubt Orana knows how much this means to me, but it is a treat regardless."
Anders dropped the last piece of his under armour and wrapped his arms around Fenris, startling the elf with a deep kiss. He had only been halfway his last gauntlet, forced to stop with his arms full of mage.
"I know what you're thinking," he told his elf, "but you're wrong. You're not a magister's equal, Fenris. You are far more important."
Fenris' nose crinkled, something between a stifled laugh and a frown, and Hawke swooped in to give each a beardy smooch on the cheek followed by helping Fenris out of his last gauntlet. Anders only released the elf from the hug when they were all ready, shooing Fenris into the parlour.
"To the fire with you! You've gotten too cold outside again."
"I am not-"
"Listen to the healer, sweetheart." Hawke shoved Fenris ahead to the fire, and while Anders grabbed them a stack of blankets he let the Champion go see Orana.
Anders all but wrapped himself around Fenris, blankets and all, nuzzling the nape of his neck while they waited. He would gladly have dozed like this - he was already halfway asleep as soon as his face hit the elf's shoulder, in fact - but Hawke was already back again, practically pouncing them on the couch.
"It looks disgusting but it smells so good!"
Anders figured Hawke was speaking of the treat Orana made, humming an acknowledgement while letting Hawke jostle him to get comfy as well. More blankets were added, more and beefier arms to wrap around them, a hot and excited breath like a mabari in his neck - Hawke was so much like his dog, Anders complained about it lovingly every other day.
Then there was Orana, smiling mischievously and curtsying with her tray with mugs and cookies.
Lots of cookies.
Huge, steaming mugs.
She placed them on the coffee table where only Hawke could reach, greeting them shyly and leaving them immediately again. Hawke distributed the mugs, and while Fenris wrapped his hands around his to blow on the contents happily, Anders was a little thrown.
Something white was floating in the brown, opaque liquid.
It reminded him of... bird poop, to be fair.
"Hush," Fenris chastised immediately, giving him a stern look over his shoulder. "Enjoy it. And be careful not to burn that chatty mouth."
Anders rolled his eyes and sniffed his mug. It smelled so sweet, and much nicer than it looked. Hawke was moaning indecently at the taste too.
Fire can't hurt a dragon but not everyone could have a throat like Hawke, so Anders blew on the white stuff in the brown stuff for a little while before being the last one daring to take a sip.
To be honest, he had to or he'd lose his mug to Hawke. Disgusting as it looked, he really wanted to know what the fuss was all about.
The flavour though... it somehow invaded all his senses, sticking to his tongue sweetly and Maker... oh Maker.
He hadn't realised he closed his eyes, nor that he had moaned just as indecently as Hawke had. But both his boyfriends were smirking at him, Hawke mildly distracted trying to steal Anders' drink.
He hogged it close, sipping it again quickly so Hawke couldn't steal.
Here, between the men he loved in front of the fire, with the Maker's liquid shit as the most blessed drink ever, Anders could truly taste freedom.