Chapter Text
At every PTA meeting, there was always that one parent. The combative one, the one that organizes rallies at educational board meetings and argues for curriculum changes in the Kindergarten classes. The one who brings in fresh baked brownies at one moment then tells a PTA mother to “Fight me, Marsha, I'm ripped!” in the next. Some parents just shine a little brighter, Fenris reasoned. Some parents just stand out a little more.
If those few parents glowed with a sort of inner light, then Constantine Anderson was a terribly bright explosion in the middle of a war zone. He had all the subtly of a mage-crafted bomb. And that was fine, Fenris thought grimly. Wonderful. A parent should do their best for their child to the best of their ability. If a parent refused to go to bat for their own child, certainly nobody else would.
Fenris understood being proud of your child, of course he did. His adoration for Victoria started the moment he held her, squalling and red-faced, in his arms and swore that this child would never have to live the life he and their ancestors did. But this Anderson fellow did not have to be so obnoxious about parenthood. The man argued at every PTA meeting, demanded reforms and curriculum changes at every step. It did not matter that Fenris agreed that the math workbooks for the first grade class were ridiculously unhelpful, or that the beginning magic courses were too religiously based for a public, non-Chantry funded school. The point was that Fenris knew it was out of the teacher's hands, and problems would not be fixed by shouting at them. But Anderson would fight, argue, and be a general pest at the PTA meetings. Meetings that he attended dressed in nurse scrubs with absurd patterns of bright colors, messy paw-prints, and dancing cats. Yet the scrubs were some of the least offensive aspects of Constantine Anderson.
Who in their right mind went to children's soccer matches with a literal herd of strange animals? Nugs, parrots, cats, snakes, and even a giant lizard (Fenris suspected it was a baby dragon) attended the soccer matches alongside Anderson. There were the PTA meetings, where Anderson hustled in fifteen minutes late with a pan of sugar cookies cut into cat shapes and a giant folder filled with his complaints about the school lunches and the latest offense against the mage students. And then there were the baked goods. Anderson would show up with a container that smelled sweet and delicious and artery clogging. The treats were always so tempting, but Fenris was determined to set a good example for his daughter. There would be no sweets before dinner, and he would not be a hypocrite and break his own damned rule. So Fenris was left to glare at the ever dwindling pile of desserts and silently curse the man who made them as the meetings dragged on and on.
Suffice to say, Constantine Anderson was an impossible pest.
“Papa!” A high pitched, whining voice echoed off the mirrored walls of the studio where Fenris was stretching after he ended his advanced ballet class. Fenris carefully folded his legs underneath him, his thigh muscles pleasantly burning from the deep stretch. “Papa, papa, I have a question!”
“I'm listening, Victoria.” Fenris said as his daughter bounded into the room and collapsed on the wooden floor in a pile of skinny limbs and bony joints, her red hair coming out of their uneven pigtails. Her eyes, big and green like his own, gleamed brightly in her small and angular face. Even her pointed ears twitched in excitement, and Fenris marveled at his daughter's boundless energy and cheery demeanor. He could not remember being so carefree as a child. He remembered very little of his childhood.
“Can I have my friend over to play? Can I, can I, can I?” She asked eagerly, her words slurring together in her excitement. She was bouncing on the floor, her whole body practically wriggling in delight. “Please, papa, I won't ask for anything ever again, I promise!”
“Don't make promises you cannot keep.” Fenris said calmly in the face of Victoria's now impressive pout. “Who is your friend?”
“Nick!” Victoria exclaimed. “We play soccer together, and we're in Ms. Merrill's class, and we have magic lessons together, and he's really smart and quiet and doesn't ever start fires, papa, I promise he won't be any trouble!”
“Hmmm.” Fenris hummed, then easily got to his feet. “We can work something out. His parents can come by the studio tomorrow to drop him off.”
“Yay!” Victoria squealed in delight, launching herself off the floor and into Fenris's stomach, wrapping her skinny freckled arms around his waist. “Thank you, papa!”
“Of course. Now show me your homework.” He returned the hug briefly before his daughter shot off and clambered up the stairs to their apartment. Fenris sighed and shut off the studio lights before heading upstairs himself. He trusted Isabela to lock up the front when she ended her ballroom dance lessons in an hour.
Nick. That was a familiar name. Victoria must have mentioned him before, but Fenris could not think of when she talked about him or what the conversation could have been. He was a little wary, inviting another mage into his home, but this Nick couldn't possibly be worse than Victoria. Teaching her to control her magic had been worse than pulling teeth. Neither of them knew what they were doing, and Fenris's wariness of magic was difficult to overcome. In the end, Hawke's younger sister Bethany took over the lessons, scolding Fenris severely for his lack of empathy. But he was better now, more understanding and less severe, and Victoria bounced back with her customary vigor and cheer. So Fenris pushed the matter out of his mind, already thinking of what he could manage to scrounge up for dinner and wondering if he should pull out his much battered dictionary to help Victoria with her writing homework. It hardly mattered who Nick was. Mage or not, he must be special for Victoria to want to invite him over for a playdate. If Victoria liked him, then Fenris was determined to try and give him a chance as well.
Despite Fenris's harsh opinions, Constantine “Anders” Anderson did not mean to cause a stir. He just loved his son very, very much, and wanted him to have a safe and happy school life. And if he happened to change the injustices of the educational system while he advocated for his son, well, Anders thought, so much the better. He would fight anyone to make sure Nick never had the experiences he did: taken away as a child from an abusive home, raised in a Chantry run foster care system that tried to drum the magic out of him, teased and hurt because of what he couldn't control- Anders would not let his son, or any other mage, suffer like he did. Their magic would be valued and not feared, and his son would have a happy childhood with his family, small as it was. Anders would make sure of it.
“Daddy?” Nick whispered the question, so quiet Anders barely heard him over the mewling of the kitten he was trying to medicate. But Anders did hear, and he put down the now empty dropper of medicine and turned to face his son.
“Yes, Nick? What is it?” He asked patiently. Nick scuffed his shoes, hiding his face behind his messy golden blond curls. “Is something the matter?” Nick shook his head vigorously and glanced up, his light gray eyes meeting his father's.
“I... I wanted to know... um...” Nick bit his lip before taking a deep breath. “May I go to a friend's house tomorrow to play?” Anders beamed at his son, heart swelling with pride because Nick was asking for things and it was so, so good to see his son asserting himself instead of being passive. He set the kitten back down in her box where she romped about with her brothers and sisters to give his son his undivided attention.
“Of course you can, Nick! That's a wonderful idea.” Anders said cheerfully, smiling. Nick returned it, his smile smaller and shyer but still brilliant. “Who is your friend?”
“Victoria Gatti.” Nick replied. Gatti... that was a familiar name. Anders was certain he had heard it before...
“Mr. Gatti's daughter?” Anders asked, the furrow between his brows deepening at the thought of the enigmatic Mr. Gatti. His son nodded, but he also caught the expression on his father's face, and his eyes crinkled up anxiously. Anders reached out with a hand and smoothed Nick's wild hair away from his face.
“Do you know him?” Nick asked, obviously seeking his father's guidance and approval.
“No, no, not at all.” Anders said soothingly. “But we will soon, won't we? What would you like for dinner?” He added, changing the subject. Nick waited a moment, studying his father's face for cues on how to react and what to say. Anders knew his son always wanted to please him, and would form his answers based on what he thought his father wanted to hear. Anders refused to let his feelings and opinions on Mr. Gatti color his son's fragile new friendship, and kept smiling encouragingly at his son.
“We can have spaghetti. Or stir-fry.” Nick said, finally satisfied with his inspection of his father's feelings. “I can start the rice cooker!” He added hopefully.
“Stir-fry it is, then! Get the ingredients out, I'll clean up in here and join you in a minute.” Anders said before ruffling his son's hair with his hand. Nick smiled and left Anders's office, almost skipping in excitement. Anders sighed and did one last check-up, letting his magic flicker over the kittens before he left, assured that they were healthy and happy and would make a full recovery.
Anders knew Victoria Gatti. She was a small, skinny elven girl with dark red hair and an energetic manner. She was on Nick's soccer team and a student in his second grade class. Moreover, Anders knew Victoria's father.
Fenris Gatti was slender, like most elves, and awfully grim. He sulked in the back of PTA meetings and tended to keep his mouth shut, preferring to be a brooding presence that lingered and terrified the other parents. He constantly dressed in black, and Anders was convinced that the man's sour personality was what turned his hair prematurely white. He would be handsome, Anders thought, if he would only attempt to smile and try to engage in the PTA meetings. Of course, it could be that Anders noticed the frowns because he most often received them. He had no idea what he had done to offend Fenris Gatti so much, and he had long given up trying to discover what it was. But Nick had made a friend, and the boy had so much trouble making friends. Anders could make peace with Fenris Gatti for the sake of his son. He would just put his best foot forward, and try not to shove that foot in his mouth.
“Papa! Papa, they're here!” Victoria exclaimed, peering out of the studio's giant front window. Fenris glanced towards the door and stood up from his desk, where he had been calculating the latest electric and water bills. He straightened his plain shirt and hoped that Nick's father wouldn't take offense. Victoria was friendly but had so much trouble making friends, her elven heritage and magic already stacked against her in the more conservative city-state of Kirkwall. He wanted to make a good impression, if only to help his daughter keep a friend she spoke so highly off.
“Manners, Victoria.” Fenris instructed firmly, all too aware that Victoria's exuberance could be a bit overwhelming at times. “You must try to control yourself.”
“Yes, Papa.” Victoria parroted, bouncing on her toes. Fenris sighed and straightened his daughter's pigtails before the front door to the dance studio swung open with a jingle of bells and two people, a small boy and his father, stepped inside. Fenris's entire body froze as he took in those Maker-damned nurse scrubs with the smiling cat faces.
“Hello!” Constantine Anderson said cheerfully, and for the first time in years Fenris felt the urge to let out a sob of frustration. “You must be Victoria's father!” The man thrust out a plastic container filled with... were those cat-shaped cookies? Covered in frosting? “I just whipped up a family favorite, thought I'd share.”
“Nick!” Victoria said cheerfully, rushing towards her friend and taking his arm in her hands. “C'mon, we can play upstairs!” She paused for a moment, turning back to her father with a mulish expression on her face. “Please.”
“Patience, Victoria.” Fenris warned. Her lips thinned and she took on an expression that looked too much like his own, her own dark eyebrows slanted down to give her a rather impressive scowl for a girl who only just turned eight.
“Bye, dad.” Nick whispered to his father. Anderson knelt down and gave his son a kiss on the center of his forehead. Fenris thought it was a little over-dramatic, but did not comment on the moment.
“Be good, okay?” Anderson murmured before standing up and patting his son's curly head. “Now go play!” He said encouragingly. Victoria tugged on Nick's arm, still glaring at her father. Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the hall that divided the downstairs space into two studios- one for Isabela and the other for himself.
“Go ahead. Do not use the oven or any magic unless I'm there to supervise.” Fenris warned his daughter, who nodded before pulling Nick down the hall, chattering loudly about the awesome new game she got and that she can't wait to play it with Nick- Fenris turned his attention back to Anderson and hesitantly took the container into his hands.
“This was unnecessary.” He muttered gruffly. “You did not have to bring this, Mr. Anderson-”
“Anders, please.” Anderson, no, Anders, said cheerfully. Fenris was just waiting for him to start ranting because wasn't that how it always was at the PTA? Anders brought the cookies and then started shouting, usually about magic classes and unjust punishments for mage students.
Only Fenris's excellent control over his body prevented him from shuddering as Anders's fingers lightly brushed against his own and he felt the twinge of magic running up and down his arms. He was used to magical discharge because of Victoria, but dealing with a rambunctious child's beginning spell work was completely different from feeling the sheer mass of power this man let sleep just under his skin. The only people who wielded this sort of force- Fenris took a deep breath. This was not Tevinter, and he was no longer helpless. Nothing could happen here.
“I'll pick Nick up at five.” Anders informed Fenris, cutting through the anxious thoughts that were spiraling out of control in Fenris's mind. “Unless there's an emergency at the clinic, then he might be picked up by a friend of mine. Ah, phone number?”
“What?” Fenris's voice was harsh, biting, meaner than he intended.
“Your phone number. So I can call you in case there's a problem.” Anders repeated patiently, ignoring Fenris's tone. “Here's mine- cell and work, just in case.” Anders reached into the shirt pocket of those hideous scrubs and handed him a business card. Kirkwall Veterinary Clinic, Dr. Constantine Anderson. Fenris flipped the card over and barely made out Anders's scribbled down number. At least he cares about his son, Fenris thought grudgingly, even if he dresses like a lunatic.
“Wait here a moment.” Fenris said, retreating to his office to pull out his own business card and scribble his cellphone number on the back. Had he been taking Victoria to a friend's house, he was sure he wouldn't be able to relax until he inspected the entire household for danger. Anders's request for a personal phone number was perfectly reasonable, Fenris reminded himself. It only felt invasive because he was such a private person. This was for Victoria, and he would bear any troubles for her sake. Fenris exited his office and practically shoved his card into Anders's hand.
“On the back.” Fenris said cooly to Anders's bewildered expression. “Does Nicholas have any allergies?”
“A minor reaction to ant bites, nothing more.” Anders replied. “He's not picky, just quiet.” Fenris nodded. Victoria was currently in her “red food stage,” and Fenris despaired over the amount of tomatoes the girl had eaten. If Nick was anything less than that, Fenris would take it and be grateful. But the man brought over pure sugar, obviously for the children. How was Fenris going to handle two mage children hyped up on sugar cookies? The man must have done it on purpose, Fenris concluded. That bastard.
“I guess I'll be going now.” Anders said reluctantly, glancing behind Fenris and up the stairs that led to the apartment. Even down here Victoria's loud, clear voice rang through the halls. Fenris tried not to wince. She forgot to close the doors again.
“Wow! Not even Aunt Isabela got this far in the level! You're amazing, Nick!” She cheered. It was that new game Isabela purchased for Victoria's birthday, Nug Racers or something.
“They will be fine.” Fenris assured the man. He was obnoxious, but he was a father. Fenris knew that he would be anxious to leave Victoria at a stranger's home as well. “I will call you if there are problems.” Anders lingered for a moment more before leaving the studio, and Fenris shut the office and went upstairs. He could look over bills another time. Right now he had not one but two mages who needed supervision.
Fenris was certain Nicholas would be as irritating, obnoxious, rude, and outspoken as his father. He was surprised to find that the boy was completely not what he expected. He was quiet, just as Victoria said, so quiet that Fenris almost forgot he was there. Victoria's loud chatter covered almost everything the boy said. His clothes were neat and surprisingly normal, considering his father's penchant for ridiculous fabrics. His curly hair kept tangling up and getting in his face, and he balanced Victoria's energy with a peaceful sort of calm far more mature than his age. He let Victoria talk and talk, and paid great attention to her every word before adding a few words of his own.
And the rudeness Fenris feared? Well. Well.
“Are you hungry?” Fenris asked the children after they finished with their game and Victoria pulled out her adventure and comic books for Nick to read. “There isn't much, but I can make something.”
“Tomatoes, papa!” Victoria exclaimed, already racing to the fridge to pull out her box of cherry tomatoes. Fenris sighed. Two weeks ago it was oranges and carrots, this week it was tomatoes. At least she loved her fruits and vegetables, Fenris thought. Better than the sugar and caffeine that other parents stuffed their kids with. While Victoria washed her tomatoes, Fenris turned his attention on the boy. Nick's gaze was focused somewhere near Fenris's feet, and he was standing very straight, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Is there anything you would like, Nicholas?” Fenris asked, adopting the gentle tone he used when addressing his youngest students. Nick slowly lifted his head, his gaze settled firmly on Fenris's chin. The worried look in his eyes pierced at Fenris's heart. Nick didn't want to say the wrong thing. Fenris knew the look from his own youth- to say something wrong meant punishments of all kinds, and Fenris understood that anxiety. He knew that fear- but what could this boy possibly be afraid of?
“I don't want to trouble you.” Nick mumbled. Shy. The boy was shy. His behavior was so easy to understand, because Fenris knew what it was like to be uncomfortable and uncertain of your place in the world. How could he have ever thought this boy would be like his father?
“It is no trouble. You're our guest.” Fenris said firmly. “I'm not much of a cook, but if it isn't too complex I will try.”
“Ohhhh, papa has apples! Nick, do you want apples?” Victoria asked, and Nick's eyes lit up before he looked up and met Fenris's eyes, the trust in them faint but promising.
“Victoria says you like apples. Me too.” He said, just a little louder, more confident and sure, and Fenris realized he could never, ever hate this boy.
“Was he good?” Anders asked breathlessly as he waited in the apartment doorway. There was a minor emergency at the clinic with a stray nug and the jelly donuts in the break room, but Anders was certain Lirene could handle taking care of one nug overstuffed with jelly and sugar. He rushed to the dance studio and raced up the steps, waving a quick hello at the very gorgeous, very familiar swarthy woman downstairs teaching the tango to a flustered blond man and his petite partner.
“Yes. Extremely so.” Mr. Gatti said with such fondness that for a second Anders wondered if this was a different man in front of him. But no, the dark, tight clothing were the same, as were the long legs and the clear, dark skin and bright lines of white tattoos running down his limbs and long-fingered hands. And no one could mistake those eyes, green as elf-root and twice as sharp.
“Glad he didn't give you any trouble, Mr. Gatti.” Anders said, inching ever so slightly closer. He knew it was a stupid idea, by Andraste's ample assets he knew it was idiotic, but Anders never had the best self-control. When someone as gorgeous as Mr. Gatti showed up, he just had to flirt. It was a part of his nature.
“No child could be as troublesome as Victoria.” The elf said easily, brushing his white hair out of his eyes. Were his eyebrows black? Anders hadn't noticed. “And Fenris, please. No one calls me Mr. Gatti.”
“Of course, Fenris.” Anders replied, stepping fully inside the apartment. The room was surprisingly cheerful, Anders thought. Fenris's severe personality was such that Anders thought his home would be as bare-bones and harsh as he was. But the kitchen was clean, the breakfast nook's walls were painted a buttery yellow. The bookshelves in the living room were cluttered with books, and the walls covered with pictures. This home looked lived in, Anders realized. Lived in and comfortable.
The pictures featured a series of a serious faced Fenris and a grinning Victoria together throughout the years. Occasionally they were posing with the beautiful woman downstairs, eating ice cream or staring at the nug exhibit at the zoo. There were also a few photos of Victoria and Fenris with a tan, blue-eyed, auburn-haired man. One was of Victoria dressed in her soccer gear and kicking a ball to the handsome stranger while Fenris sat back and watched. He swore he recognized Aveline Vallen, one of the more outspoken PTA moms, in the photos. She was bandaging Victoria's knee. It was a recent photo, Anders was certain of it. Then there was one of- was that Hawke carrying a tiny Victoria on their shoulders? Anders was positive it was Hawke. No one else could possibly be that tall or ridiculous.
There was one photo in the center of an otherwise empty side table, there was an older photo of a smiling, red-haired elven woman, heavily pregnant, who looked so much like Victoria that Anders knew she had to be a relation. Victoria's mother, perhaps? A small incense burner lay under her picture, the incense unlit. The table was very, very clean, and Anders just knew it was something sacred, something that shouldn't be messed with. Naturally, because he was contrary by nature, Anders wanted to get closer and figure out what this makeshift shrine was all about.
“Victoria, Nicholas's father is here!” Fenris called out, but there was no response. Anders tried to subtly get a better look at the photo on the table. She was very pretty, Anders thought absently, though her makeup was a little heavy for her strong features. Familiar features, though he couldn't quite place from where. He reached out to pick up the photo and get a better look, but a long fingered tattooed hand firmly grabbed his hand and kept the picture frame on the table.
“What are you doing?” Fenris hissed out under his breath, and Anders was painfully aware of how much stronger the elf was, despite his shorter and leaner frame.
“I was just-” Anders protested, flexing his fingers against Fenris's iron grip. There was no escaping him.
“Do. Not. Touch anything.” Fenris nearly growled, and as stupid as it was Anders felt his pants tighten at the growl and the warm breath ghosting across his ear and cheek. No, nope, stupid stupid stupid.
“Let me go!” Anders hissed back, keeping his voice low because the children should not hear the adults fighting, and he knew he was in the wrong. He shouldn't have been touching things, especially things that were so obviously private and personal.
“Let go of the picture.” Fenris replied, his grip only tightening over Anders's hand.
“Fine! Hands off!” Anders exclaimed, keeping his voice low. The moment he let go, Fenris did as well. Anders slowly backed away from the picture and the table, and Fenris firmly placed himself in front of the little shrine as if his body was the only defense he could utilize.
“Never. Never touch that.” Fenris said, his eyes dark and angry and terrifying. Anders was about to say something, to try and soothe the rage that lurked under this man's skin and bone and was all-consuming, but it was at this point that Victoria and Nick chose to appear.
“Papa!” Victoria practically sang out. “We're here!” Anders marveled at how quickly the hot anger in Fenris's eyes diminished, extinguished by his daughter's presence. He cast a wary look towards Anders before turning his attention to Victoria.
“It's time for Nicholas to go home.” Fenris said.
“He can't stay any longer?” His daughter whined.
“Victoria.” Fenris warned, his voice brooking no argument.
“Fine.” Victoria sighed loudly before turning to Anders and smiling brightly, as bright as the sun, the same smile as the pretty elven woman in the picture without that tinge of sadness in her eyes. “Thank you for letting Nick come and play today, Mr. Nick's Dad.”
“You're welcome.” Anders replied automatically. “He can come by anytime you and your father would like. Or you could come visit Nick at our house.”
“Ohhh!” Victoria hopped over to her father. “Papa, can I? Can I visit Nick sometime? Please please please, I'll never ask for anything else-”
“No promises you can't keep, Victoria.” Fenris said automatically, glancing over to Anders before looking down at Nick. Nick, who hadn't said a word, but was gazing up at Fenris with a shy, hopeful look in his eyes. Anders saw the moment his resolve crumbled, and was surprised, so surprised that it was Nick, his gentle, sweet, shy son, who broke the steel of Fenris's harsh personality.
“I... I suppose we can work something out.” Fenris said grudgingly.
“Thank you, Mr. Fenris.” Nick whispered, his own grin so trusting and admiring that Anders knew, just knew that Nick had Victoria's father firmly wrapped around his finger.
That was how it began, really. The children got along so well that it was only natural to have them play together. It was convenient for Anders and Fenris to come up with a carpool schedule (“Pick the kids up from school and drop them off at soccer practice, I'll pick them up afterwards.”). They were in the same class, had the same magic lessons, and they got along so well it just made sense to make the effort to let them play together. If their parents couldn't stand each other, well, they were adults and could handle their mutual dislike perfectly well. It wasn't as if they had to interact with each other beyond the few minutes it took to pick up, drop off, and shuffle the children between them. It would be very simple and neat, practical for two single fathers with a lot on their plates.
But nothing is simple. Anders and Fenris were starting a dance all their own, their feet unconsciously slipping into position as they carefully avoided conversation and eye contact. Anders would muse over why Fenris brooded and fussed so much over his independent minded and cheerful daughter, and Fenris would wonder how a man who was so powerful and outspoken could have such a shy and polite son. Neither of them would be left wondering for long.