This was a present for my friend who presented me with a one-way ticket to hell for my birthday. Hint hint, it was Dragon Age 2, and I have become unhealthily obsessed so I quickly wrote this out for her as we both are in love with Anders. I hope you enjoy.
Anders' obsession with cats is absolutely wonderful. I hope he finds one some day and that the people of Darktown did not eat them all.
Disclaimer - I not own Dragon Age 2.
She could feel their eyes on them, could feel them change from looks of adoration for their Champion to questioning glances of confusion at what she was carrying. She didn't blame them. She wasn't quite sure why she was carrying it either.
How had it happened?
She'd been about to go to the Hanged Man, see Isabela, talk dirty for a couple hours over the rat piss being sold as ale, and then talk business with Varric, make sure he wasn't telling the merchants she had strangled an ogre with her mind or something equally ridiculous.
And then she'd heard it.
A pitiful chorus of sounds, creeping up from a sewer door embedded in the ground, being carried by devilish fate on the wind to her ears.
Always one to rush to the source of the problem, Hawke had veered off course, ripped open the door, and climbed into the sewer without a thought for how she'd reek afterwards. She whipped out her staff, summoning fire to the tip, and made her way through, following the sound. That was when she-
Bam!
A thief rushed by her, strands of pearls and glittering rubies strung on his arms, guards shouting after him. She would have stopped him then, but she could feel the box falling, the sounds from within growing shrill, and with a startled cry she scrambled to adjust the box, plastering an arm over the top to keep the lid from popping open. Eyes wide, breathing deep at the momentary rush of adrenaline, she peeked through a crack and spied her cargo. Maker bless, they were safe. Clearing her throat and ignoring the amused giggles of the spectators, she shifted the box to one arm and summoned a fist of rock with her free hand, punching it after the thief and hitting him square in the back. A guard sent her a hesitant nod of thanks, and with a grin too wide to not be awkward, she turned right back around, pressing the box firmly into her stomach to keep it steady.
Right, where had she been?
Oh, recounting how she'd come into possession of her… unique box of goodies.
Ahem.
That was when she realized what she had raced into the sewers for.
Kittens.
Half a dozen, at least, but she couldn't be sure, because all she really was certain of was that there was so much wriggling fur and they were making these pitiful sounds and suddenly a very distinct face was coming to mind. The face of a person who worked too hard and bemoaned the loss of a certain Ser Pounce-a-lot.
She should have just turned around, ignored them completely, never to think of them again, but that would be heartless. She at least had to give them to someone else, place them on a doorstep to be distributed by some soul with more patience for the adorable balls of fur than she had. It wasn't that she didn't like them. It was that she was scared of what would happen if she took them.
This dilemma made her stare at the kittens for far longer than necessary. The longer she stared, the stronger the image of that face became, with that awkward smile and the blonde hair partially tied back and eyes that held hidden pain and a spirit who's existence he regretted.
Anders loves cats.
She didn't quite remember how the box got into her arms after that though, or how she left the sewers with them safely pressed to her chest, but she had, and now everyone was staring at her as she neared the estate.
She tried to send them daggers with her blue gaze, because how dare they question The Champion carrying a box of adorable and impossibly irresistible kittens, as if they wouldn't have done the same. After what felt like forever, she finally entered her mansion and ignored the letters on her desk – there were always letters on her desk, trying to convince her that her flag was flying half mast – and made her way to her room, where she knew the reason for the box of animals was waiting.
He glanced over at the sound of the door opening, eyes lighting up at her entrance. But then he furrowed his brow at the way she seemed to be panting heavily and the unfamiliar package in her arms.
"What do you-"
"I got you a present," she interrupted as he stood to investigate what she was carrying.
"You didn't have to," he replied gratefully with a chuckle.
"I thought I didn't have to either, but I was evidently wrong." Anders' expression grew perplexed as she moved passed him and set the box, contents now silent, on the bed. "Pick one."
"Pick one… what?" he asked, following Hawke and staring at the box curiously.
Growing frustrated that he wouldn't open the box – even if she hadn't told him it was okay so it was actually her fault – she sent him a glare. He didn't understand. He didn't know how she had suddenly lost her mind at the very thought of him seeing the kittens and had recklessly picked them up. He didn't know.
She reached over and opened the lid a little roughly, yet careful not to shift the box. "Pick one," she repeated.
Hesitant and extremely concerned for his lover's sanity, Anders leaned over. Hawke watched him with baited breath.
And then he froze.
"Kittens…" he whispered.
Uh-oh.
Did he not like them?
Shit, what was she going to do with half a dozen cats?!
"Kittens…"
He was saying it again? Maker, she'd made a mistake. That's what she got for losing her mind and picking up the box in the first-
"Kittens." His voice had changed, and his eyes were wide in awe as he slowly stretched out a hand, allowing his fingertips to hover over their soft, warm heads.
"Uh… yes?"
He turned to her, and suddenly all the questioning went away when she saw how absolutely happy he looked. "Why?" he asked.
She cleared her throat, not sure how to explain what had happened down in the sewer when she had mindlessly taken the kittens. "You live here now, and honestly, the mansion is empty. We could use a cat… don't you think?" she asked, a smile slowly forming on her face. "Pick one." And then she left, leaving him to sort through all of them.
It had been two hours and he still had not come down with a decision. She was getting real bored of rereading the advertisement for what would turn her into a man all other men would envy, what would turn her into the man she deserved to be.
Did they even know who lived at Hawke estate?
Frustrated with how long it was taking, Hawke finally shoved away from the desk and made her way up to the stairs again, reaching over and slowly opening the door to her room.
"Anders, have you made a-" Her voice died the moment her gaze fell on… whatever strange event was occurring on her bed. "Decision," she finally finished softly.
Anders was currently sprawled on the bed, eyes wide in horror as one kitten slept on his chest, another chewed on his hair, and the remaining four – or five? Maker were there six? – crawled all over him.
Had they killed Anders?
But then he blinked, and she realized his chest was abnormally still because he didn't want to disturb the kitten.
How are you so adorable? she wondered in shock.
Slowly he turned to her, and she then remembered that he still looked absolutely terrified. Why?
"I can't pick."
She blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. "What?"
"I mean… I can't decide."
Oh.
Oh.
He was afraid of telling her that he couldn't pick. That he wants all six – seven? – of them.
"Alright," she murmured in return, coming over to sit at his side on the bed and take his hand in hers. "The house is big. You don't have to decide."
Anders went to sit up quickly and object, but stiffened when he remembered the kitten on his chest. "No," he told her firmly instead. "You're too good for me as it is. I can't have you giving me everything when I don't deserve any of it."
Hawke replied with a wicked grin. "You can't lie to me as it is. And you most certainly can't intimidate me when covered in kittens," she informed him. "All of them. They're yours. I have no where else to put the others anyway."
"I love you," he whispered to her softly, looking pained at her generosity. He honestly believes he doesn't deserve it.
"I love you too," she murmured in return, leaning over and pressing her lips to his.
The kiss lasted longer than it probably should have been if they were in public, but the bedroom was their room, and they were going to do whatever they wanted to.
Or so they thought. It was only after they were both moaning into the kiss and Hawke reached to place her hand on his chest and encountered a warm furry body instead that they remembered something.
They weren't alone.
The kitten mewled loudly, and Hawke jolted back, staring at it in horror. Anders looked mortified for the briefest of moments before he decided the whole event was more amusing than not and started to laugh at Hawke's expression.
She narrowed her blue eyes at him. "Oh you laugh now," she started out, voice low as her hand trailed away from the kitten and further down Ander's chest. Lower. Lower. "But you just remember you found this funny while you lay here for the full duration of this thing's cat nap. Try your best to remember, because I imagine it will be very hard to." And then, with a devilish grin, Hawke stood and left.
It took no more than a second for Anders to register the meaning of the words.
No amount of kittens could make up for the sudden wave of despair that overcame him.
I wrote this one-shot during a rehearsal so I do apologize if it is a little jumbled, I was surrounded by dozens of people and constantly having to leave in the middle of this.
Helpful critique, praises, and thoughts (both about my one-shot and Dragon Age 2) are welcome. Thank you very much for taking the time to read this one-shot.
Sivo
