(i'm on tumblr as gayrretthawke and on ao3 as Bruh, formerly Danes)
When Hawke entered the Black Emporium and entered the Antiquarian's field of view, a small, pained, but genuine, crossed the living corpse's face. "Ah, my dear Hawke! how good to see you," Xenon said. "I have a very special item that I think you'd like."
"Nice to see you to, Xenon. You're looking positively stunning today," Hawke replied. "Though, I think I'll pass on your 'special item', if it's anything like the painting you sold me. I don't think I'll ever sleep again."
A laugh warbled through the air. "No, no! Nothing like that. I think you might like this item. I had Thaddeus set it by the catalogue- it is quite interesting."
The Fereldan mulled it over- most of the items he got from Xenon that weren't made specifically for battle were... terrifying, to say the least. However, after the incident with the painting, he'd let the old man know of his dissatisfaction (to put it lightly), and had been promised that he would do his best not to sell anything /too/ interesting.
Finally, Hawke gave into curiosity and made his way to the table behind Xenon's perch. On the table was a flash of dark liquid- his first look told him it was blood, though he quickly perished the thought; Xenon was no swindler.
"So, uh... what does it do?" Hawke asked, picking up the bottle and inspecting it. A shiver ran down his spine; he could feel the magic emanating inside.
The corpse laughed again. "Something to unlock your unknown 'potential'. Useless to someone like me... but I think you could find it quite interesting."
"I don't like the sound of that."
"Hush! If you wish for me to sweeten the deal, I'll give you a discount."
"Now I really don't like the sound of it. You never give discounts. I'm finding this really suspicious."
Xenon growled. "Fine! It's on the house. Take it before I change my mind."
Well, he certainly wasn't going to pass up on that offer. Hawke placed the flask in his potions satchel and quickly left the Emporium.
The urchin watched Hawke leave, waiting until the door closed to turn to his master, who chortled. "Don't worry, little one. I think this will be very interesting for all of us."
"Broody, quit staring at Hawke's ass and play your hand."
Fenris was snapped back to reality by Varric's voice, blushing has he raised without looking at his hand. Anders scoffed and folded, while Varric, once again, explained to Merrill that she wasn't supposed to show him her cards.
The blush on the elf's face persisted, embarrassed at having been caught ogling. He couldn't help it, though; Hawke was... hard not to look at. He was a giant compared to other humans, more akin to the qunari more than anything. It also didn't help that, when out of his armor, his clothes accentuated his muscular body a little too well.
Of course, if Hawke's favouritism to him was anything to go by, Fenris was certainly given leave to ogle him as he would.
Fenris watched Hawke take a tray of mugs from the bartender, probably flashing smile as he did so, and return to the table, handing everyone a mug (with two extra for himself), then sat down next to Fenris.
The night passed quickly, with Fenris ending up as the most sober, and Hawke the drunkest, as always. While the others went to their own homes, the tiny elf was forced to carry the giant mound of muscles that made up his friend.
"And then..." Hawke babbled as Fenris struggled to carry him up the steps into Hightown. "Then I met this corpse guy! And he was like, 'Good'-"
"Garret. Please be quiet," the elf finally snapped. "I am sure the story is very interesting, but I would really rather you be quiet, lest we attract unpleasant company."
"Well, well! Look what we have here!"
Void take him.
A small group of bandits blocked their entrance, the Blooming Rose at their backs. The leader, a cocky young human with a beard that looked like pubic hair stuck to his face, sneered down Fenris.
"Jinx," Hawke whispered in Fenris's ear, poking his cheek.
"Hawke." The elf sighed and guided the larger man to lean against the wall as the leader began to state his demands in an overly exaggerated fashion. "Just. Stay here while I deal with this."
Without waiting for an answer, Fenris wielded a small dagger (he'd left his sword at home, but had the sense to wear his armor unlike his drunken friend), engaging the bandits in a quick and bloody fight.
While Fenris fought, however, another figure dropped out of the shadows, wielding a knife coated in poison. The Crow had hired the thugs to distract the Champion's accomplice, buying them time to kill their target.
A hand covered Hawke's mouth as the knife plunged deep into his back, twisted for effect. The man groaned and clawed at the assassin's hand on his mouth, his feet scrambling for purchase as his body succumbed.
Of course, just to the assassin's misfortune, the elf happened to kill the last of the bandits and turn around. A knife soared through the air, plunging itself into the assassin's forehead.
Both assassin and champion fell to the ground, the former's lifeless body crushed beneath the latter's. Without a moment of hesitation, Fenris pulled the knife from Hawke's back, stifling the blood with the assassin's body.
Once he was sure his makeshift pressure job wouldn't kill his friend immediately, he rifled through his satchel, pulling out the first poultice flask he could wrap his hand around, uncorking it with his thumb and pressing the opening into Hawke's mouth.
It took some coaxing to get the half-conscious man to drink at first, but, as the elixir filled his stomach, its healing effects quickly taking effect, he was suckling at it like a babe on a teat.
"Slow down," Fenris scolded softly, holding Hawke's head in his lap. "You'll choke."
Of, course Hawke paid no attention- he was far too transfixed on how /good/ the poultice tasted, not to mention how amazing it made him feel. After a while, the bottle ran dry, and the warrior was able to sit up without much trouble.
"Wow... I don't know what was in that, but I feel like a new man!" Hawke muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead. His entire body pulsed, a tingling in his skin make him feel a little too good for a public setting.
While Hawke attempted to stand, Fenris searched the Crow's body, coming up with a coin purse, a letter, and antidote, the latter of which was ingested by the other man.
"If you're okay to stand," Fenris said, "We should get you to your estate. Get that wound dressed up."
Hawke nodded in agreement, completely sobered by the strange sensation in his body and the stab wound in his back. He was forced to lean on the elf once more, though not completely dependent, as they made their way back to his home, where a distressed Orana and Bodahn quickly cleaned and dressed Hawke's wound.
Fenris allowed himself to be convinced by Hawke's servants to stay the night, just in case something else happened during the night.
Not because he wanted to, of course.