frikadeller:
and then the stream descended into madness, perv, shoulder beavers, and ye olde thong.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this; I look ridiculous.” Anders’ voice was strained, an octave higher than normal as he shouted through the wooden door. “I’m not coming out until you give my robes back!”
“Oh please, I bet you’re irresistible.” Isabela leaned across from the door, Anders’ Tevinter robes slung over one arm, tapping the toe of her leather boot impatiently as Zevran stumbled out of the room, pushed, and the door slammed behind him.
“I look like a bloody fool!” Anders shouted.
“He is lying.” Zevran grinned knowingly at Isabela, making a hand gesture as though he were cupping something rather large. “The mage has been holding out on us. You would not believe the kind of physique he is hiding under those robes.” Isabela raised an eyebrow and made a similar hand gesture, an impressed look crossing her face when Zevran nodded.
“Why don’t you just come out and show us, Anders?” She pushed off from the wall, handing the robes to Zevran and trying the door, frowning when she realized it was latched. “What could be the harm in just a little peek?”
“Oh, you’ll get more than a little peek. You can see bloody everything.”
“Even better! The sooner you come out, the sooner we can give you our professional opinion, and then you can have your robes back.”
“Professional opinion, my arse! You two are mad, and if you think I’m coming out there looking like a confused Orlesian prostitute then you’ll be standing out there for a very long time.” There was rustling from inside the room as Anders spoke, and Zevran lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle a chuckle at his comment, pressing his lips firmly together when Isabela glared daggers at him.
“Just let me see, might as well get it all out into the open now.” Isabela tried the door again, pouting when it wouldn’t give.
“You know, this would be less embarrassing if I were completely naked. I look like I forgot to put on trousers in the morning!”
“Mages do not often wear trousers in Ferelden, do they?” Zevran asked, looking at the robes he was still holding.
“My point still stands.” After a sigh, a pause, and a realization that neither Zevran nor Isabela were going to let up, Anders opened the door and stepped in front of it, not yet leaving the room. “There, are you happy?” He crossed his arms over his chest, just under the gold chain that spanned the distance between his nipple rings, his cheeks red as ripe apples.
“My, but the Ferelden circle grows their mages big and strong,” Isabela said, her voice lowering to a purr as she followed the dark trail of hair on his stomach to the impressive bulge in the smallest pair of smallclothes they’d been able to find for him. “And they decorate them as well, apparently.” She glanced at the nipple rings, a smirk on her lips.
“I told you this was a bad idea. Just give me my robes so we can put this all behind us.” When neither of them made a move to do so, Anders stepped out into the hallway and crossed to Zevran to yank them out of his hand. He froze at hearing the dry, sardonic, familiar voice from down the hall.
“Well,” said Nathaniel, “no wonder you always wear robes.”
