There’s a split second when Anders considers what he’s doing – he loves it, yes, this ridiculous piece of clothing and it is funny in its own right – but the look Fenris gives when his head slowly lifts from behind his book is absolutely priceless. And somewhat dumbfounded. “What do you think?” He asks, grinning wide, trying not to laugh when the expression spreads across Fenris’ face. There are a few seconds of silence in which he simply glares at the teal sweater, presumably trying to burn away the embroidered kittens and brightly colored décor with his eyes alone. “I think I would like to know what in the Maker’s name it is. It’s hideous.” If the way he’s staring it down didn’t say enough, the disgusted tone he takes now does. “Where did that thing come from?” “It’s my cat sweater! What, you don’t like it?” There’s no way Anders can fathom him missing the sarcasm, but either way, it’s far too entertaining to try and lead him on regardless. “I wear it every Feastday that rolls around. It’s tradition, love.” “Yes well, I think it is time to start a new tradition together of burning garments that should never see the light of day.” Anders’ response is to put on his best mock-pout – still accompanied by a near damnable smirk – made only more so when he pulls out a box from behind his back. “Well, hopefully that tradition doesn’t apply to your gift. It took me forever to find this.” There is nothing short of a suspicious look on Fenris’ face as he takes the wrapped gift, carefully tearing the colored paper and lifting the lid free, quite possibly glaring even more now at this than he was at Anders only minutes before. “Anders.” The irritated growl is his only vocal reaction to the bright red sweater at first, covered halfway up from the bottom in wide-eyed puppies knit directly into the design – if that’s what it could be called. “No. I will not wear this ridiculous thing.” Even Wiggums is wary, straying out of Fenris’ path as he’s stalking toward the fireplace, making a show of holding it toward the hearth. “Wait, wait wait.” Anders exclaims through a quieted chuckle, already on Fenris’ heels before he’s even made it to the licking flames. They’re both stopped for a moment, Fenris glaring almost murderously at Anders and then to the fire, obviously only willing to spare but a moment before he condemns the sweater to his desired fate. “Come on,” Anders begins, taking the sweater from his hands and holding it up. “They match your puppy eyes.” With that, Fenris is convinced it’s only the irresistible smile that keeps him from giving him a piece of his mind, but he resorts instead to simply crossing his arms and leaving no mercy with the ire in his stare. “There are no puppy eyes. I also certainly hope this is your idea of the ‘pranks’ associated with today.” Anders is still quite convinced that it was worth it. “Don’t worry.” While he’s walking toward the closet under the stairs, Fenris watches, skeptical of what he might have planned next – and when Anders emerges, a much larger box in hand this time, he raises an eyebrow more out of curiosity than anything. “Sit down.” Anders says simply, and he does, taking the carefully wrapped package in his lap when he sets it there. “This is your real gift, yes. I had to have a little bit of fun first though, you know.” The box is relatively heavy, and for the size it’s understandable, but at the same time he has to wonder what it could be. “You didn’t have to-“ Fenris begins, but he’s cut off by a hand held up to still him. “Just open it.” He makes short but careful work of the wrappings, revealing a black case tied with a red ribbon underneath – and the shape is immediately recognizable, something that makes him smile instantly, especially after the last ‘gift.’ There is a moment spent unlatching it, the slow lift of the lid letting firelight shine on the deep red of a pristine violin, brand new and polished until his reflection was near perfect on the surface. “Anders… it’s beautiful.” His fingers trace over the strings, testing the familiar feel and it’s perfect, the soft smile on his lips a welcome contrast from his the scowl there before. “Thank you.” “Far more beautiful than the sweater, I hope,” Anders says, shifting closer and placing an arm around Fenris’ shoulders, brushing his lips against his cheek as he inspects the instrument from within its case. “It’s custom made, and I know you have some already, but I figure it’s always nice to have an extra.” Their mouths are meeting before Anders realizes it, and it’s sweet, the taste of wine and dessert still present on Fenris’ lips, eager, wanting, but slow. It’s intoxicating and he’s lost in it, but then it’s gone too soon, opening his eyes soon after to meet intent green eyes and a smirk that has him wanting even more. “Speaking of the sweater,” Fenris says quietly, closing the violin case and setting it carefully on the floor, “I believe it is about time you take it off.” Before Anders has a chance to object, long fingers are sneaking beneath the hem of it, tracing teasing lines up his chest until the ridiculous piece of clothing is lifted over his head and discarded to the floor. Perhaps there is some practicality to wearing hideous attire; it’s worth considering. The idea is dashed from his mind when there are insistent hands on him again, all warm caresses and touch that have him moaning softly into the crook of Fenris’ neck, quieted only when he hears the husky voice in his ears. “You’ll get your gift when we’re done here.” He whispers, but it’s all Anders can do to wonder what could possibly be better than this
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