Title: Comfort
Author: SnowChaser
Pairing(s): Hawke x Anders (between Acts I and II)
Author's Note: First in a series of one-shots involving Hawke and Anders which I am calling "Moments". Prompts and requests, in the form of one to five words, are accepted and welcome. These, unlike my 'What Have You Done?' and 'Come To An End', are meant to be fluffy. Artemis was a Spirit Healer, not a Force mage, so she was a bit more delicate in personality then Kiya, and much more eager to please. This is a little known author fact, but I am *terrified* of storms when they roll in off the coast (I live in New England, so we see them frequently), and so, Temmi has developed the same fear.
Summary: She never did see why she couldn't choose the most appealing solution to her problem…

'CRRAAACCCCKKKKK!'

The sound of thunder, ominously booming overhead, woke the woman with a start. For a brief, terrifying second, she flailed, crying out and trying to untangle herself from the mess of blankets her unease had created, before she managed to free herself to sit upright. A flash of lightning streaked past her window, which was being battered by rain without mercy. At the foot of her bed a mabari lifted its head, whining as if it sensed the fear radiating off of his mistress. Loki, for that was this hounds name, knew she feared storms, and sympathetically came to her, nudging one hand with a wet nose, and 'woofing' softly.

"It's okay, boy." Her voice shook, even as her body began to point out signs of distress. Rapid heart rate, swift breathing. Of course, she wanted to say. I'm scared! Instead, she slowly released her magic in a swirl of color, bathing the room in its radiance as she sought to comfort herself. Another peal of thunder raced overhead, and she looked to her door. Once, as a young girl, she would have run to her father, who would hold her until the storm had passed.

"Little Temmi, do not fear the storms, my love." He would whisper. And then he would call down the lightning, let her taste the rain… and will the storm to do his bidding, if only to calm his daughter's fears.

Now, as an adult, she had other ways of coping. Usually, she would read something absurd ('Hard in Hightown' came readily to mind), or recite the Chant of Light backwards- or forwards- to distract herself. Her other option was to drop in on one of her friends. But who?

Varric immediately came to mind. Her dwarf friend was warm and secure, with a heart the size of the city-state they lived in for his friends. There was nothing he would not do for those he called friend, she realized. But Bianca- or, more accurately, her memory- stood in her way there. Besides, as much as he loved her, she doubted he'd allow her to share his bed after a mile walk in the rain- she'd be dripping wet and probably resemble a drowned rat. So, no, no dropping in on Varric.

Isabella she crossed off for the opposite reason. Much as she loved the glamorous pirate from Rivain, she knew that the woman would gladly share her bed. It was no secret that 'Bella was interested in bedding her, at least once, and she shook her head. No. No, she would not encourage that to develop. They were close friends, but she could never, ever, imagine taking the pirate as a lover.

Merrill… now, that did hold a certain appeal. The petite elf was a mage, like her, so she didn't have to worry about lingering spells, or hurting her should she have a nightmare. But that mirror thing she kept in her room worried Hawke, and she could never, ever condone a Blood mage. Sweet as Merrill could be, there was something dark that took root in the soul when one used Blood magic, and she did not want to sully herself with that. No, the elf was no longer an option.

Fenris wasn't a viable option. No doubt he'd keep her warm, but he would do it by fisting her through the chest, and probably wouldn't want a wet mage crawling into bed with him. Not only that, his mansion was, to put it mildly, creepy. She didn't like the thought of being there, alone, with him. As sexy as that dark voice could be (and even she had to admit the tone did things to a girl), she rather liked breathing, thank you very much.

Aveline was another option- and a viable one- but Hawke couldn't do that. She was too familiar, too close. Her relationship with Aveline reminded her of her relationship with Bethany, only the Guard Captain was the older in this situation. She could be a friend, a sister, and in the next become a motherly figure, and she didn't relish waking the redhead, only to receive a lecture as to why she shouldn't wander Hightown so late at night.

Sebastian… and she snorted in amusement. He would be utterly mortified if she tried to crawl into bed with him. Not to mention he'd feel the need to wash and pay penance for seeing her in the dead of night. Besides, even with his bright eyes and curling auburn hair, he was a bore. She liked men with more spunk…

Which left the most appealing choice.

Anders had the build of a sprinter, all long limbs and lean height, giving him a decidedly streamlined appearance at first glance. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a very muscular man (and why would he be, mages did not need bulk), but he did have some definition to him, along with a reserve of strength that sometimes puzzled her. He was confident in his abilities, borderline cocky. So sure of himself- or was it so sure of his abilities as a Grey Warden? Still, his glorious mane of red-gold hair, aristocratic cheekbones, warm honey-colored eyes, and slightly crooked smile all added to the package, and she liked what she saw. Besides Varric, Anders was a constant companion- she loved his wit and watching him move with that baffling grace he had. Hell, she just *liked* him, period. She assumed it had to do with the 'L' word, but she refused to even think down that road. He was… a friend. Nothing more.

Still, out of the group, Anders was the most appealing choice. Besides, she reasoned, she didn't have to get wet to see him- the cellars of her new home reached to Darktown, and would put her out right next to his clinic.

Which left her with a choice: read, recite, or snuggle?

She saw no reason not to make the most appealing choice.

"Loki! Do you want to go see Anders?" She pitched her voice in a way that had the dog wriggling in anticipation, tail wiggling happily. "You do?" She pulled on her robe with a chuckle. While Anders was a cat man, she knew he secretly adored the hound (if he didn't, he would never have allowed the animal within his precious clinic), and the massive animal made her feel safe. "Shall we go see him, then?" She pulled on her boots, lacing them loosely. "C'mon, boy!" She opened her bedroom door, padding quietly down the stairs. She paused by her writing desk, penning a quick note to let her mother know she was alright, and safe, before she headed towards the cellars, dog in tow.

She loved the smell of the cellars. They smelled slightly musty (a scent she knew quite well from Lothering), but also of cedar and oak- both freshly cut wood and seemingly ancient, scarred barrels. She had decided to bring breakfast along as well (it was the least she could do- and Anders needed some meat on his bones). It had become a ritual, of sorts- she never came to Darktown empty-handed, giving him a way to indulge his Grey Warden appetite at least once a week. He never complained, often joking that she brought enough to feed a small army, only to wolf most of it down like a starving cat upon cream.

Inhaling, she smiled. Yes, she did love the smell of the cellars.

When she dropped down into Darktown, however, the scent changed, became almost disgusting. Trying not to retch, she swayed unsteadily against the ladder for a moment. Loki, who had been calculating the leap down, paused to whine and lick his mistress' cheek. She smiled, kissing the massive head before backing out and inviting the clumsy beast to come join her. In a solid leap, the hound landed, skidding only slightly, and she giggled. "You're such a good dog." She hugged him tightly, kissing his head again. Underground, the storm wasn't nearly so loud, and she sighed.

Yes, this was a good idea.

The lantern was lit over the door, meaning that, while Anders was most likely sleeping, he was within. For a moment, she hesitated. What if he was busy? What if he had another woman in there? But that thought made her shake her head- she would know if he did. How? Well… she just would, is all. Pushing open the door, quietly, she stepped inside, taking care to close the door behind her with a quiet 'click'. Instantly the calming scent of lavender enveloped her, and she smiled in spite of herself. Anders had a habit of lighting lavender-scented incense at least twice a day- to create a calming atmosphere, he claimed, but she knew better. It was to drive away the scent of Darktown, and it was why there was always a faint hint of lavender in his scent, mixed with elfroot and a tiny hint of patchouli.

However, regardless of the reason, it did have a calming effect- already she was starting to relax. "Loki, lay down." The dog laid near the door, instantly. "Good boy. Stay." A wagging stub of a tail was her response. With a smile, she headed for the alcove where she knew Anders slept, and had to smile.

The lanky mage was asleep on the edge of the straw-stuffed mattress, one arm dangling over the edge. He was, for the most part, fully clothed as well- it was as if he'd stretched out for a moment, just a short rest, and had no more energy to move. His breathing was slow and steady- a faint hint of a snore on the inhale. The image was too adorable, and she felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. He needed a keeper, she thought.

"Anders?" She called him softly- his only response was to mutter a brief 'wha-' then shift in his sleep. That made her smile- he wasn't disturbed by her presence if he was remaining that relaxed. "Anders?" She called him again- this time a groan and he actually rolled over, now facing the wall, back to her. This was another encouraging sign- he never turned his back on anyone, yet he let her see his vulnerability. Slowly, she crossed the room. There was enough room for her to crawl onto his pallet, but that wouldn't solve the newest problem, which was that she was cold.

She should have brought a blanket.

Shivering, she made a snap decision, and claimed the empty spot in the bed. She pressed in as close as she dared, hoping to absorb some of his body heat. Almost as soon as she began to settle, a pair of fuzzy brown eyes opened, confusion written in their depths.

"Hawke? What're ya doin'?" His voice was heavy with sleep, and he slurred his words, the trace accent he had becoming more pronounced. Even still, his arms wound around her, sleep momentarily keeping Justice at bay, and he tugged her into the warm nest of blankets he'd created. "C'mere, ye're shiverin' like a leaf in tha' wind." She didn't protest as he tucked her safely beside him, tangling his long legs with hers.

"I'm sorry… I just…." she attempted to explain, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

"Don' care. Sleep now." He snuggled into her further, and she hesitantly relaxed into his hold. She'd never slept with a man before, and even though they were only cuddling, being this close was strangely intimate.

She drifted off with her forehead against his neck, his chin nuzzling the top of her head in dreams.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night's sleep, or the last time he'd felt so rested. With a yawn, he shifted, hand encountering something warm and soft… and he blinked open his eyes. A wildly curling mass of gold-streaked brown greeted his eyes, and he speed focused to realize that he was sharing a bed with a woman.

Not just any woman- Hawke.

And it was *his* bed.

She was curled into him, body completely limp in his hold, a hint of a smile curling up the edges of her lips. She fit perfectly into the nest of blankets he'd created, her curvy little figure flush against him, every curve hit by a plane of his body, like she'd been made for him.

She was in *his* blankets.

And, he realized, their legs were apparently tangled together, because he found he couldn't move without waking her.

"Hawke…" he whispered her name, drinking in the faint scent of peppermint and lavender on her skin. She smelled divine, and her warmth was comforting. And… her lips were so close. It would be so easy to lean down and discover just how sweet those lips were- their unique texture and flavor. To delve deep and satisfy the curiosity he knew they both had for one another. He mentally shook himself- no, no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't.

"Hawke… sweetheart, wake up." She protested violently, with a half-growled insult before curling in closer, face buried into his neck. Oh, sweet Andraste, having her body heat so close was such a comfort… but no. He had to wake her up. Now. Before he dipped his head in and kissed her. "Sweetheart, open those pretty green eyes for me."

She did, but it was only to give him a welcoming, sleepy smile, and a protest. "Cozy."

"Yes, Hawke, it's cozy." He tried to stay stern, but he could never be mad at her, even for a moment, and gave in to rest his forehead against hers on the pillow. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"You mean you slept through that storm?" She raised a brow as she yawned.

"What storm?" He blinked.

"The gi-bloody-normous one that came in from sea last night! I thought for sure it would wake even the dead." She sighed, and he reached up to caress her cheek in an effort to soothe. He knew her fear of storms rivaled his fear of enclosed spaces, and so he comforted.

"No… I'm sorry. I'm used to the sounds of storms- someone was always casting something in the tower, so I just sleep right through them now." He sighed. "That still doesn't explain why you're in my bed, sweetheart." Not that he minded- he was enjoying her warmth.

"I- it was lonely. I wanted some company…" she trailed off, feeling remarkably stupid. He cupped her chin, forced her to look into his eyes.

"No, don't hide." His eyes were earnest.

"It's a stupid fear." She sighed.

"No, honey, it isn't." He sighed. "You know I've a fear of enclosed spaces; you helped me through it in the Deep Roads." He knew her gentle touches to his shoulders had soothed him, even as her voice had. She'd stayed up with him during his watches, and allowed him to tentatively curl up near her, making sure to let him know he wasn't alone. "It's nice to know that you trust me to watch over you when you're afraid." His free hand now cupped her cheek, thumb caressing along the zygomatic arch.

"I trust you to watch my back, always." She whispered it, enjoying the warm, practiced touch of his hand on her cheek.

"Mmm… I'm glad." He purred it, her proximity driving away Justice for the moment. "Why didn't you wake me, though?" He looked confused.

"I tried." She smiled. "Twice. You didn't want to wake for me. And then when you did wake up, it was to snuggle me into your arms and go back to sleep."

"Snuggle?" He tilted his head. He was, he knew, a naturally affectionate creature, and he always had been. Still, how any red-blooded man could be confronted with Artemis Hawke crawling, half-naked, into their bed and merely snuggle was beyond him. Even his heart flipped at the sight of her. "I had you crawling into bed with me, dressed like that, and asked for a cuddle?" She laughed, causing his pulse to increase and adrenaline surge. He had to restrain himself from lowering his head to capture that sweetness with his lips. This woman was beautiful, intelligent, wise. Had the Maker given him creative control to design his perfect woman… well, even he couldn't have created a creature as fascinating as the woman who was tangled in his arms.

Perfect. She was bloody perfect for him, and to him.

He was, he realized, falling in love with her.

"Hey, where did you go?" He snapped back in time to see those gorgeous sea-green eyes batting at him in an adorable gesture. He laughed, lightly, before dipping in and rubbing noses with her impulsively. She giggled- the sound musically ringing through his empty clinic. "I brought breakfast. What were you so intent on?"

"Breakfast?" His eyes lit up. "What did you bring?" His focus was back on her, now. Or, more specifically, on what she may have brought him for breakfast.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She smiled impishly, pushing up on her elbows. He nudged her back down, shaking his head. She looked- right- in his bed. He didn't want her to leave.

"Stay." He rose, smiling. "I'll get it and come back here." Dark eyes flicked over her, taking in how fragile she looked in his bed, and a sudden, fierce urge to protect came over him. He sighed, though- she wasn't his, and paused to light a cone of incense before trekking out into the chill of his clinic. His eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering down, and therefore was calm when Loki raced over to leap and lick. He crouched, tousling the silky ears and chuckling. He had a fondness for the mabari- he wasn't sure why, exactly. "Where did your mistress leave breakfast, hmm?" He asked with a chuckle. I response, the dog leapt away and came back with a wicker hamper in his jowls, which Anders accepted with a cringe. "Thanks for slobbering on it, mutt." But it was said with affection, and he smoothly crossed back to the alcove which served as his 'bedroom'.

Hawke was still curled into the blankets, carelessly perusing one of his books. Her chin rested on a delicate hand, and she'd propped herself up on an elbow, looking completely at ease. He'd never seen her so relaxed, even in her own estate. Just like that, he knew he'd found home in the petite Spirit Healer. Her gaze shifted, suddenly, and she grinned as she beckoned him closer with one finger. He reclaimed his half of the bed, and she snuggled into his side instantly.

"Mmm… so this is why you smell like patchouli." She indicated the incense. "It smells like you. Warm. Enticing. Mysterious." He chuckled, nuzzling the wealth of her dark hair.

"I *think* that was a compliment, so thank you, dear one." One hand lifted the lid to the basket in his lap, and he sighed in appreciation. "Are those….?"

"Double chocolate chip muffins with powdered sugar dusting the caps? And blueberry scones?" She grinned. "They *could* be. Possibly."

"Very funny." He tried to look stern, and failed miserably. Her proximity centered him, and he chuckled as he dug into breakfast. "Maker, these are positively criminal…" his voice darkened to a sensual growl.

"I outdid myself, didn't I?" She grinned, then took a bite out of a scone. "Oh, these *are* wonderful."

"That's it, I'm spoiled on muffins for life now!" He was halfway through his second, having pounced on the food as if it were his last meal. A tiny dab of chocolate flirted with the corner of his mouth, and she found it fascinating. With his flame-hued hair free to tumble around his face and a loose, dangerously low-cut shirt, and days' growth, he was still the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He glanced up, caught her staring. "You *have* seen me eat before, Hawke., haven't you?"

"Sorry." She blushed.

"Don't be sorry- eat." He nudged the basket towards her. "Before I devour it, basket and all." He smiled, making that chocolate even more tempting…

What happened next was inevitable. Some call it fate, others chance, and, still others would call it the work of the Maker.

She leaned forward, looking like a siren, her lips ghosting over his as a clever pink tongue darted out to lick off the offending confection, a tiny sound of delight escaping her throat. His head was instantly spinning, making conscious thought impossible. One hand, of its own accord, came up to cradle her neck as he returned the kiss, deepening it. She moved closer, and his free hand snaked its way up her torso, caressing her taught stomach before continuing its assent, where it settled over the proud swell of a breast. He could have sworn she was purring like a cat, because, had he the proper vocal chords, he knew he'd have been.

Hawke was in his arms, where she belonged. In his clinic, where she also belonged.

For this one moment, all was right in the world.