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The Darkspawn were tenacious, Nathaniel would give them that.
Even as he filled them with arrows, shafts sticking from their torsos so densely they resembled quillbacks, they pressed forward, howling and snarling and chittering in nightmarish tones. Their motivation, whatever it was, defied nature and self-preservation in a way he had only encountered before in rabid animals, and like rabid animals, the only option was to put them down.
They would, Nathaniel knew. Even as they rushed the Wardens, he was calm and confident, pulling arrows from the quiver on his back, notching them, and firing with a cool, fluid precision. He could hear the crashing of steel as his companions clashed with the enemy and somewhere behind him he could feel the mages casting, the magic making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They were like a well-oiled machine, systematically working together, organized in their assault, almost thinking in sync.
The prickles along Nathaniel's neck unexpectedly increased in temperature, stinging like a painful sunburn. On the heels of the sensation came the reason for it, as a wave of fire roared around him. The flames licked at his armor and elbows, filling his nostrils with the scent of singed hair, but seemed to part around his body leaving him unburned. The Darkspawn were not so lucky, however. As the torrent of fire hit them, the abominations were set ablaze like tinder. Weapons fell from their grip as they screamed and clawed at the flames, skin blackening and eyes rolling to unseeing whites as they were consumed by magical fire. They collapsed, one after another, as the tide of destruction passed through them until the last, choking on the smoke of their own combustion.
“Wow!” Anders exclaimed excitedly. “Did you see that?! Even for me, that was impressive, you have to admit.”
Nathaniel was too busy patting at his own scorched body to respond right away, but when he did, his frustration was evident in his voice. “Bloody hell, Anders! You almost roasted me alive!”
Anders scoffed, coming up behind him, twirling his staff. “Oh, come off it Nate. You barely got warm.”
“What even was that?” He snarled, turning on the man.
Shrugging, Anders set his staff down and leaned on it. “New spell of my own creation. I'm calling it a Firestorm.” Nathaniel's ire did nothing to dilute the prideful smile on his face. “Needs a little tweaking, admittedly, but for a first field test I think that went remarkably well.”
“Remarkably well?!” Nathaniel bellowed. “You nearly set me on fire with your little test! I cannot believe you would be so irresponsible. No, actually I can. This is so like you. Flagrant disregard for the safety of others? Showboating? I don't even know why I continue to be surprised by your antics.”
Anders' brow furrowed, though his smile remained. “I just decimated an entire Darkspawn scouting party with no losses or serious injury, and you're upset about showboating?” He shook his head. “The risk was worth the result.”
Nathaniel's teeth ground painfully together. “And how far would you be willing to go, what would you risk?” He was fuming, his hand clenched so tightly around his bow that lesser materials might have snapped. “Perhaps when you kill us all with your unnecessary fumbling for accolades you'll finally find yourself satisfied!”
For a moment, Anders' eyes shifted, the skin around them wrinkling as if in pain. He looked hurt. In that moment, Nathaniel bit his tongue, wishing he could pull the words back. It wasn't that he wasn't angry, he was, he was furious. This sort of behavior was exactly the kind of thing the Chantry trotted out as evidence of the danger of mages. It was the example they used to keep people locked away, and Nathaniel couldn't quite disagree that such displays were a frightening reminder of the power mages could wield. But the vulnerability in Anders as Nathaniel's words hit him tugged at something in the archer's chest. He hadn't intended to wound him.
Then the moment passed.
Anders' smug smirk returned in full force, and any soft feelings Nathaniel had been about to struggle with fizzled out.
“Unnecessary, hmm?” Anders asked suggestively, leaning closer. “Accolades from you might just cool my fiery wiles. Or fan them into an inferno, if you said them just right.”
He winked, and Nathaniel instantly regretted everything that had led him to that point. His cheeks went hot and his tongue went limp as he struggled to form a rebuff, or a response of any kind. That was just like Anders too. Nathaniel had been flirted with plenty of times before in his life, but when Anders did it it was like his brain stopped functioning.
And Anders knew it.
Growling incoherently, Nathaniel threw up his hands in defeat. “Do as you will,” he stormed away from Anders, no destination in mind other than out of the man's presence. “You're going to regardless of what I say anyway.”
He wasn't wrong. Anders endangered himself as much as the rest of them using untested magic on the battlefield. Unless Anders was an idiot, which Nathaniel was beginning to question, he should have understood that. As much as he doubted it was likely, Nathaniel did hope that something of his chastisement had sunk in.
Next time, if there was a next time, Anders might not be as lucky.
They had been making camp when the ambush came.
Nathaniel was barely armored, firing arrow after arrow into the Darkspawn that had encircled the Warden's position and were now bearing down upon them. Elsewhere he could hear the others making their own frantic defense, steel clashing against steel and hurried shouts, but he couldn't pay them any mind. If he stopped or looked away, even got an instant, the horde would be upon him.
They must not have gotten all the scouts. It was the only explanation. A stray Darkspawn in normal circumstances didn't pose much threat, but things were far from normal and the idea that information on their location could have been passed on by a survivor was no longer as unbelievable as it had once been.
An arrow sang past Nathaniel's face, its fletching just catching his cheek in a stinging line of pain. He hissed, stumbling back several steps as he notched another arrow. He was losing ground. Every shot stuck true, each mark went down, and yet they seemed to keep coming.
He was going to die.
The thought felt more like inevitability than fear. After all, he had been living on borrowed time ever since he had been thrown into the dungeons of Vigil's Keep. It was always likely to end this way, he just hadn't expected it to happen quite so soon.
“Nathaniel! Get down!” The bark was Anders' voice, and insistent enough that Nathaniel didn't think to question it or look for its source. He dropped to one knee, firing a final arrow up into the neck of a Hurlock bearing down on him, then rolled back into a crouch.
Fire exploded around him. It was the only way to describe the inferno that suddenly and viciously roared around him. The firestorm that Anders had cast against the scouts was like a flickering candle flame compared to the sea of destruction that tore through the Darkspawn, and yet the flames passed harmlessly around Nate. He could feel the heat of them, sending rivulets of sweat pouring down his neck, but they did not touch him, did not singe his hair and armor like they had before.
Swiveling his head around, Nathaniel saw Anders, his face screwed up in concentration, his knuckles white as he directed the destruction with his staff. He didn't look at Nathaniel. Based on the sweat on his brow and his clenched jaw, Nathaniel guessed that he couldn't spare the attention.
Before Nathaniel, the fire ripped across the battle, immolating Darkspawn the moment the flames touched their skin. The smell of burning, putrid flesh was heavy and Nathaniel gagged, pushing himself further from the remains and towards Anders. He could not tear his eyes away from the horrific scene, hypnotized by the destruction and the knowledge of how narrowly he had escaped his own demise.
A cheer went up from the other Wardens, separated from Anders and Nathaniel by piles of charred corpses and ash, and Anders took a deep breath, relaxing and letting the spell fizzle out.
“You alright, Nate?” He asked, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.
Nathaniel started, pulled out of a daze by the man's touch. “Yes,” he exhaled. “I think so.”
He looked up, expecting to see a cocky smile gleaming down at him, but he was wrong. Concern thinned Anders' lips, even as he smiled tightly, and his brows drooped in relief. Nathaniel felt self-conscious under the unexpectedly intimate expression and looked away, swallowing hard.
“Good.” Anders patted his shoulder once, then straightened up. “Got to check on the others, then we'll probably want to move camp. Can't imagine getting any sleep with this smell.”
Nathaniel chuckled softly, the sound escaping unbidden, probably due to his shock. “Go. I'll manage.”
Anders nodded, a gesture Nathaniel saw out of the corner of his vision as he was still pointed not looking at the man, then jogged off around the destruction. Once the man's movement disappeared from Nathaniel's periphery he got to his feet and took his eyes off the ground to observe the carnage once again.
To observe the place where he should have died.
They did move camp.
It was well past dark by the time they found a suitable location well away from the site of their ambush. Nathaniel should have been exhausted, but his head buzzed unpleasantly from the fight and he could not settle enough to sleep. Instead, he sat by the fire, watching the flames dance, an occasional shiver rattling down his spine which had nothing to do with the cold.
Around him, he could hear the others settling into their tents, their quiet rituals playing soundtrack to his melancholic stupor. He envied them, to be able to return so easily to mundanity after battle. It would come with time, he supposed. All of them had more combat experience than him by years.
Or most of them at least.
“Can't sleep?” Anders sat down beside Nathaniel, startling him slightly.
Nathaniel noted the dark circles under the mage’s eyes, and imagined he wore similar signs of fatigue. “No. Need to settle a bit first after all the excitement.”
Anders nodded. “I'm still not used to it,” he commented. “Maybe in another year or two I'll be able to sleep like they can after something like that.”
The acumen of his statement made Nathaniel momentarily suspicious, but he sighed, dismissing that immediate reaction. It was not suspect that Anders felt similarly to him, it was logical. It just felt strange to agree with him on anything.
He should thank him, Nathaniel knew. Anders had saved his life. An apology for his earlier verbal attack also seemed prudent. After all, it was the spell he had so viciously chastised him for that had made Nathaniel's salvation possible.
“About that,” he began tentatively. “The battle, I mean…” his words trailed off as a smug, prideful smile spread wide across Anders' face.
“About me saving your life with my irresponsible spell?” He asked glibly.
Nathaniel's lips thinned, his expression souring. “Yes,” he responded curtly.
Anders' expression, impossibly, became more self-righteous and punchable. “I expect an apology is forthcoming? Considering I was absolutely in the right and my field test undoubtedly led directly to your survival?”
Nathaniel found he didn't much feel like expressing his gratitude anymore.
He stood up, no longer wishing to be close to the mage. “I was going to thank you, actually, but it seems you're doing enough patting yourself on the back for both of us so I won't bother.”
“You're welcome,” Anders said cheerily, ignoring the majority of Nathaniel's words. “It doesn't need to be a formal apology. Just admit I was right. You know I was.”
Anders could pry Nathaniel's apology from his cold dead hands.
“You're unbelievable. For a moment I had the briefest thought that you might care about someone other than yourself,” he shook his head. “But no, my mistake.”
“Hey!” Anders had the decency to sound indignant as he got to his feet. “I care! You think I'm out here in the cold for fun?”
Nathaniel turned on him, poking one finger into the man's chest. “You're out here to gloat. Don't pretend it's anything more than that.”
Anders surprised Nathaniel, genuine anger flooding his face. “I can be proud and give a damn about you, you know? The two aren't mutually exclusive.”
“You could,” Nathaniel agreed. “But you don't. Just admit it. It was simply convenient for me that saving my life provided you an opportunity to show off.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Anders was shaking he was so mad, his face flushing with rage. “You really think I would have let you die?”
Nathaniel pressed closer, his face inches from Anders'. “Why not? How does the continued existence of Nathaniel Howe benefit Anders? Maybe you'd miss having someone to toy with, but I'm sure you'd recover.”
“Toy with!?” Anders snarled. “That's what you think this is?”
His anger wasn't surprising, but the focus of ire was. Why would that be the part of Nathaniel's tirade he found the most insulting?
“You think I'm so naive as to not see it? You delight in my discomfort. Revel in my humiliation. Why else would you carry on the way you do?”
Anders' brow furrowed, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Why else—?” He shook his head, growling in exasperation and grabbing Nate by the shoulders. “You blind, oblivious, stupid idiot.”
Nathaniel didn't know what was happening, his mind unable to comprehend the strange turn of events as Anders pressed their lips together. His kiss was insistent, as brusque and brazen as the man himself, his fingers digging into Nathaniel's shoulders as he pulled them together. Nathaniel felt sure he should be pushing him away, pulling away from his touch, shouldn't he? Instead, his lips fell open, and his hands grasped at Anders' hips, his body returning the kiss with a ferocity that surprised even him.
The concept that Nathaniel wanted this blindsided him completely. Anders was infuriating, obnoxious, and proud; not someone Nathaniel would ever be attracted to. Or so he had told himself. But as Anders put his arms around him, his tongue slipping into Nathaniel's mouth, he couldn't deny how good it felt and couldn't stop the way his body reacted.
He tugged Anders' body flush with his, his erection digging into the man's hip hard enough to make him gasp. Anders got a hand between their bodies, eagerly rubbing his length through his pants and making him moan softly. Nathaniel felt dizzy; the taste of the man's mouth and the touch of his hand sending his blood rushing away from his head. He didn't realize Anders was losing the laces of his breeches until the man's hand was against his skin, his calloused palm wrapping around Nathaniel's cock. He moaned again, his lips breaking away from Anders' and leaving him gasping as the man continued kissing down his neck to his collarbone, his hand moving up and down his length.
There was a fervent urgency in the way they clung to each other; Nathaniel's hands in Anders' hair pulling their lips together again, Anders' hand pushing Nathaniel's shirt up to caress his chest as the other worked between his legs. It was difficult to focus on details like when his shirt came off or how they ended up on the ground, Anders kissing down his bare chest.
Nathaniel knew he should have been concerned by the fact that they were in the middle of camp. Anyone could hear them and stumble out of their tent to discover the lewd display. He almost said something, almost stopped Anders, then cool night air touched his sensitive skin, immediately followed by the searing heat of Anders' tongue rolling up the underside of his cock.
He bit his lip, muffling his moan as best he could, and wound his fingers into Anders' hair which had come undone at some point during the chaos. The mage lapped at the head of Nathaniel's cock and he hissed at the sensation, his body shuddering anticipatorily, then Anders' eyes rolled up and met Nathaniel's gaze as he took him into his mouth.
Nathaniel's back arched, his hands tightening in Anders' hair as he clenched his jaw to hold back his moan, still acutely aware that they could at any moment be discovered. He watched, unable to tear his eyes away as Anders enveloped his length with his burning mouth, tongue and lips working in tandem as he took more and more of him. Anders' head dipped low, his golden hair obscuring Nathaniel's view, and he felt his tip constricted by the man's throat. It sent his head falling back, eyelids fluttering in pleasure, and a gasp broke from his lips despite his attempts to hold it back.
Anders' fingers were digging into his hips as he began to bob his head, his mouth working vigorously up and down Nathaniel's length. Nathaniel moaned wantonly, unable to cease the stream of sounds pouring from his lips, and clung to Anders' hair as the building pressure of euphoria ripped through him, dragging him closer and closer to release. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving his cock into Anders' throat again, the delicious friction at the back of his throat making Nathaniel choke. Instead of pulling back, Anders hummed, a sound like a purr that vibrated through Nathaniel, and hungrily swallowed around Nathaniel's tip again.
His climax came upon him suddenly, like a dam violently collapsing under the insurmountable weight of the pooling pleasure flooding Nathaniel's body. He bit his lip hard, only partially succeeding in muffling his cry as he came, tremors rocking his hips into Anders' mouth and pumping his release down the man's throat. The mage moaned around his cock, greedily swallowing his load and lapping at the oversensitive and softening flesh of his length. Nathaniel shuddered, hissing softly between jagged, panting breaths, his limp limbs twitching slightly as his lungs struggled to recover.
He could hear Anders heaving breaths and felt the man's head resting against his thigh, but lacked the stamina to do anything but lie flat on his back. His mind recovered more quickly than his body, thoughts whirling in spirals around the shocking turn of events. He needed to compose his appearance in case any of the Wardens woke and investigated the disturbance. What did this mean, if anything? He had wanted it, wanted Anders, that was clear, but how did they progress from here? Could they? Did he want that?
Raising his head, Nathaniel looked down his body at Anders where he rested, eyes closed, focused on his own physical recovery. Was he contemplating the same things? Or was this a thoughtless fluke to him?
A shuffling sound from one of the tents roused Anders, his eyes snapping open and meeting Nathaniel's. The archer couldn't identify what he saw in those eyes; satiation, certainly, but there was something more complex, something he couldn't identify below that.
“Fuck,” Anders breathed, eyes flicking to the line of tents and brows dropped, his expression settling into a more identifiable anxiety. “Let me get you covered up.”
Nathaniel raised one hand, intending to stop him, but he was still sluggish, throat too dry to form words. Anders was surprisingly delicate in his redressing, conscious of the sensitivity of Nathaniel's body and avoiding unnecessary touches as he re-laced his trousers. It was intimate, almost more so than what had preceded it, and made Nathaniel feel even more self-conscious about the meaning of their spontaneous tryst.
He pushed himself upright as Anders scanned the ground around them, finding and grabbing Nathaniel's shirt after a moment of looking. “Here's your shirt,” he offered, holding it out. His voice sounded unusually sheepish, an intonation rarely heard from the man, and he didn't meet Nathaniel's eyes.
“Thanks,” Nathaniel croaked, taking the garment from his hand and pulling it over his head. “I, um—”
Anders shook his head, sitting back. “You don't need to say anything. My fault. I—” he chewed his lip, considering his words. “Hopefully you'll be able to sleep now.”
Humor. He was deflecting, which meant he was as disconcerted as Nathaniel.
“I think I will,” Nathaniel responded, still waiting for Anders to meet his gaze again. “What about you?”
Shrugging, Anders chewed his lip again, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Yeah. I mean, in a bit.”
Nathaniel's brow furrowed, then smoothed out again as he gleaned Anders' meaning. “Can I… help?”
Shaking his head again, Anders turned slightly away. “You don't need to do that. Like I said, my fault.” He took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Don't do that,” Nathaniel told him softly.
That made Anders look up, finally meeting Nathaniel's gaze. “Do what?”
Nathaniel sighed. “Act as if I didn't have anything to do with it.”
“It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't kissed you,” Anders murmured.
“It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't kissed you back.” Nathaniel fought the urge to look away. He wasn't going to try and deny the way he felt, the way Anders had made him feel.
Anders studied him for a moment, the camp eerily silent apart from the campfire’s crackle and sputter. “Well… what are we going to do about it?”
Nathaniel sighed. “I don't know,” he admitted.
A smile cracked Anders' pensive visage. “A rare occurrence indeed.”
Despite himself, Nathaniel chuckled softly. But Anders was like that, wasn't he? Even when it annoyed him, the man could always make light. “Some sleep would probably be a good place to start.”
Anders tilted his head to one side. “And tomorrow we'll continue on as if nothing happened, I suppose.”
That was an option. They could just forget the whole thing. It had been a mistake, a fluke, nothing worth troubling themselves over. Easier to just pretend that nothing had changed.
“I don't want that.”
Anders' brows raised. “Really?”
Nathaniel nodded soberly. “Really.” He shrugged. “You're brash and obnoxious and I often feel the strong desire to knock you out, but…”
“Some other desires are clearly knocking about there too?” Anders offered, his smirk returning in full force.
“I like you, Anders,” Nathaniel admitted plainly. “I'm trying to be honest about it.”
Anders raised his hands apologetically. “Sorry. Force of habit.” He pursed his lips. “I'm just… surprised. I thought you knew, how I felt I mean. I wasn't exactly being subtle. Just thought you weren't interested.”
“I didn't know I was, I think.”
Anders nodded, as if Nathaniel's statement explained everything. The silence began to stretch out before he spoke again. “Start with sleep,” he agreed. “It's awfully late for soul searching.”
“Agreed. I'm feeling exposed enough for one night.” Nathaniel got to his feet, dusting himself off before offering Anders his hand. Anders took it, easily rising with Nathaniel's help.
Nodding his thanks, Anders headed for his tent, half watching over his shoulder as Nathaniel did the same, but he stopped as he reached it. “Hey Nate,” he called back. “Is that offer to help with my problem still on the table?” He grinned roguishly, a flick of his eyes indicating the general downward location of his problem.
Nathaniel shook his head, chuckling. “Goodnight, Anders.”
Anders' grin softened into something more genuine. “Goodnight, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel watched the man duck into his tent, a smile still lingering on his lips, then followed suit, and was able, at last, to get some rest.