A little short I’ve re-written. In honor of Pride month, kinda? It’s just some Handers cuteness. ️
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The stillness inside the clinic filled every corner, laying like a blanket over the room and the only sounds among the quiet ambience were human made. Potion bottles clinked together and pages of notes ruffled in a breeze as deft hands quickly tucked them back into their proper place, bound within a worn journal. Faint voices from somewhere in the depths of the sleepless undercity were barely whispers beyond the doors for once.
Wyatt let his mind wander, letting it stretch beyond the empty clinic to fonder places, leaving him to stand around in silent contemplation about everything and nothing. He leaned too confidently on the broom held in hand and rested his eyes on Anders’ retreating form, watching him wordlessly restore order to his sanctum as he organized the space for the next day. He fixated first on his lover’s hands - everything he expected a healer’s hands to be - with long and nimble fingers, calloused and scarred as they were. They were beautifully merciful hands that knew much pain and suffering, capable of knitting flesh and tissue leaving only the fleeting taste of the fade as the magic did its job. A sigh of fatigue slipped past his lips and Wyatt fought the creeping urge to close his eyes and doze right there on his feet.
“You look tired, love. Go home. I can finish up by myself.” Anders, who had long since shed his heavy overcoat, crossed the room wearing a gentle smile in his honey-colored eyes.
Wyatt returned the smile, reaching for him with a free, grasping hand. “Ah, sorry. I said I would help, but I don’t think I’ve been of much use.”
Anders liberated the broom from him with laughter on his lips just before he pressed them gingerly into Wyatt’s open palm. “I appreciate it all the same. Now go, I promise I’ll be up soon.”
It was easy to admit defeat to such a pretty face, especially in his current state, fading fast after a long day. His palm traveled from Anders’ lips to the loose wisps of gold framing his face, then cradled the crook of his neck where he gently massaged for a few passing moments. Any longer and Anders would be quick on his heels, practically melting into him like warmed butter. He knew his love’s habits, knew which buttons to push and which reactions he’d get from them. Wyatt would even daresay he understood Anders so completely and as well as the man knew himself. Just as Anders could say about him, surely. “Fine, fine. Chase me out. I know when I’m unwanted,” Wyatt teased as he grazed the tip of his lover’s nose with a kiss. It was one of Anders’ best features, and certainly one of his many favorites…
He had to stop before he found his self-control waning and his hands started working the ties on his partner’s trousers. A drowsy smile settled easily onto his face as he withdrew. “Don’t make me wait long or I’ll come back down here and throw you over my shoulder. If that’s what it takes to have you.”
For a moment too long, Anders paused and Wyatt recognized the look of genuine contemplation on the man’s face. The corners of his lips twitched coyly, “Is that a promise, then?”
Confound him for being so enticing. Wyatt struggled to resist his baser urges, but found his tired mind and body not fully up to the task. “I make lots of promises, darling. But you can consider that one a threat.” He flashed his beloved a halfway feral grin and bedroom eyes as he leaned against the doorframe of the clinic. “I love you, but if you don’t hurry up, I may not even bother hauling you up the stairs at all.”
That got Anders’ attention. A blush colored his fair face and he stopped sweeping entirely. Wyatt was sure he was leaning heavily on the broom, clutching it tightly. He chuckled and crossed the space between them once more to peck his lover on the cheek. “Now that I’ve given you something to think about, I’m going to head upstairs. See you in a bit.”
