It's a familiar position if not a familiar situation (although given Hawke's occasionally horrifically close brushes with death it might well not be unfamiliar either), so he pushes himself up a little to make a better surface for draping on, mostly out of instinct. All the previous tube and needle removal gets instantly forgotten, inasmuch as he probably had a score of ridiculous bubbling up on the subject, in favour of wrapping his arms around Anders' shoulders and back, cheek pressed against the crown of his hair.

"Anders--" Not quite an inquiry, despite the questioning tone colour. Even after so many years he sometimes just--panics for a second when faced with this much raw feeling, because Anders is always going to be much better at demonstrating that openly despite the overall intensity of the way they generally exist at each other. Once he's a little less fuzzy he'll probably move right into feeling heinously guilty for saying terrible shit like 'it'll be fine' and then, apparently, proceeding into directly not-fineness, but for now he's just going to make meaningless shushing noises into the top of Anders' head.

"It's all right," he murmurs eventually, like he can basically make this true through, perhaps, sheer force of personality.