Fingers close around the ring and Hawke holds it so tightly he can feel the shape of it in his palm as he kisses Anders. It's slow and affectionate, made up of the things that he can't find the words for and he finds he's still a bit shaky. When they pull apart, he feels a warm drop against his hand and immediately brings the one not desperately curled around the ring up to wipe his face.
He doesn't apologize, can't because of both the lump in his throat and the welling of pure love for this hesitant, careful, yet so utterly passionate man that is somehow still here even when all logic says that they shouldn't have found each other again. Mages don't get happy endings. Rebels don't get happy endings.
But maybe they do get happy continuance.
A hard swallow and Hawke uncurls the fingers around the ring, taking it to slide into its rightful place on the ring finger of his left hand. He's already decided that's where it will stay permanently. He may as well have it grafted on.
"I love you." He still sounds throaty and hoarse but still so full of affection it's almost fit to choke. "We'll find you one to match. I don't want to be the only one wearing it. This is for us. Together."
no subject
He doesn't apologize, can't because of both the lump in his throat and the welling of pure love for this hesitant, careful, yet so utterly passionate man that is somehow still here even when all logic says that they shouldn't have found each other again. Mages don't get happy endings. Rebels don't get happy endings.
But maybe they do get happy continuance.
A hard swallow and Hawke uncurls the fingers around the ring, taking it to slide into its rightful place on the ring finger of his left hand. He's already decided that's where it will stay permanently. He may as well have it grafted on.
"I love you." He still sounds throaty and hoarse but still so full of affection it's almost fit to choke. "We'll find you one to match. I don't want to be the only one wearing it. This is for us. Together."