(no subject)
Fan fiction? In my journal? Unheard of! ...Seriously, though. The last fic I posted anywhere in any shape or form was in June of 2008. I don't even know. *dusts off Microsoft Word*
It's not long. I wrote it for a prompt over at the Tuesday prompt fest at dragon_age, but me being me, by the time I decided to actually post it, it was... already Thursday. *facepalm*
Title: Tea (or “I Don’t Know Whether To Kiss You Or Smother You With A Pillow”)
Author: veridium_falcon
Rating: PG
Word Count: 245
Character/Pairing: Anders, M!Mage!Hawke
Summary: Hawke is sick and bedridden. Anders may or may not be trying to kill him.
Author's Note: Take's place sometime in the middle of Act II, but there aren't any spoilers.
“Drink this.”
Hawke, in a rare moment of agreeability, took the cup from Anders and drank. He didn’t sniff at it first, he didn’t ask twenty dubious questions about the ingredients, he didn’t grouse. Maybe he was growing as a person. Or maybe (and much more likely) he was just feeling so miserably and violently ill that if Anders had handed him a cup of molten lava and told him to drink it, he probably would have.
He swallowed, hard enough that it hurt his already tender throat, and even though the tea had only swished around in his mouth for a few seconds, he could already tell it had been a few seconds too long, because his taste buds were screaming in mortal terror and threatening to move back to Ferelden.
He coughed and grimaced and, without his usual eloquence, said, “Urgh.”
Anders looked entirely too amused.
Hawke tried again, “What in the name of Andraste… what was that? Poison?”
“It’s just tea, Hawke. It’ll help.” That smile. That smile was insufferable. "I promise I'm not trying to kill you."
Hawke liked tea. He enjoyed tea. Whatever that sludge was, it was certainly not tea, and he swore that when he was well again - when his head no longer felt like a hundred ogres were dancing on his skull and he was able to breathe through his nose without sounding like a strangled goose - Anders would pay for this.
It's not long. I wrote it for a prompt over at the Tuesday prompt fest at dragon_age, but me being me, by the time I decided to actually post it, it was... already Thursday. *facepalm*
Title: Tea (or “I Don’t Know Whether To Kiss You Or Smother You With A Pillow”)
Author: veridium_falcon
Rating: PG
Word Count: 245
Character/Pairing: Anders, M!Mage!Hawke
Summary: Hawke is sick and bedridden. Anders may or may not be trying to kill him.
Author's Note: Take's place sometime in the middle of Act II, but there aren't any spoilers.
“Drink this.”
Hawke, in a rare moment of agreeability, took the cup from Anders and drank. He didn’t sniff at it first, he didn’t ask twenty dubious questions about the ingredients, he didn’t grouse. Maybe he was growing as a person. Or maybe (and much more likely) he was just feeling so miserably and violently ill that if Anders had handed him a cup of molten lava and told him to drink it, he probably would have.
He swallowed, hard enough that it hurt his already tender throat, and even though the tea had only swished around in his mouth for a few seconds, he could already tell it had been a few seconds too long, because his taste buds were screaming in mortal terror and threatening to move back to Ferelden.
He coughed and grimaced and, without his usual eloquence, said, “Urgh.”
Anders looked entirely too amused.
Hawke tried again, “What in the name of Andraste… what was that? Poison?”
“It’s just tea, Hawke. It’ll help.” That smile. That smile was insufferable. "I promise I'm not trying to kill you."
Hawke liked tea. He enjoyed tea. Whatever that sludge was, it was certainly not tea, and he swore that when he was well again - when his head no longer felt like a hundred ogres were dancing on his skull and he was able to breathe through his nose without sounding like a strangled goose - Anders would pay for this.