blow thou winter wind
Winter in Kirkwall is an interesting time for all its inhabitants. Fenris gets sleepy. Hawke misses Ferelden. Varric tells Merrill no, he's not interested in snow angels, but perhaps Aveline is. That sort of thing.
i. of strawberries
"Fenrisss!"
The elf shook himself awake at the sound of his name being called. He had fallen asleep in Hawke's study, the book he'd been working through still open on his lap. Hawke's voice came from downstairs, loud but without the note of fear that would have made him rush to her aid. Instead, he had to force himself to rise from the soft chair and wander his way to the kitchens, patting down his tousled white hair as he walked. If he didn't know the estate so well, he might have tripped - the house was almost pitch black in the night.
"Asteria?" His voice was hoarse from sleep, and warm spot before the lit fireplace looked ridiculously appealing. The mage glanced up from the counter, looking vaguely sheepish with a flush on her cheeks. Her hands were wrapped around a small jar tied off with a plaid ribbon – preserves of some sort – and her fingertips were red and raw looking. "What's wrong?"
"I –" She flushed harder, and then shoved the jar towards him. "It won't open, and I've been trying for ages-"
Fenris twisted the cap with an idle flick of his wrist, eyes still bleary.
Pop.
Hawke stared at him open-mouthed while Fenris stilled the urge to yawn. Used to the heat and humidity of Seheron and the Imperium, the winters in Kirkwall tended to leave him more tired than usual. Asteria usually found it adorable, much to his irritation. At the moment, the angry pout on her face was, Fenris admitted, rather cute. She'd probably freeze him solid if he said so.
"It is not my fault that you are so...delicate," he teased, a faint smile on his lips. Hawke made a small growling noise as she snatched the jar of strawberry jam back.
"I am not delicate! You're just too bloody...Stupid warriors and your stupid muscles, if it's not you it was Carver..." She stuck her finger into the jar and then stuck it into her mouth, pouting around it. "It's a Ferelden thing I think- winter means preserves. Mother used to make them every year but..." Her voice trailed off, and she swiped her finger through the jam again to hide her pause.
The warrior frowned slightly, still sleepy but aware enough to know that letting Asteria continue with that train of thought was bad. The warmth of Hawke's bedroom seemed more and more promising with each passing moment, and so Fenris took his mage by the arm and pulled her towards the stairs. "I will open all the jars you ever want if we can go back to bed," he told her.
Hawke's face broke into a small, shocked smile (ever?), and she tilted her head up to kiss him softly. She tasted mostly like vanilla, but now there was the sweet undertone of fruit. He licked his lips when they parted.
"I'll hold you to that. Come on sleepyhead, let's go up."
Short, fluffy fill of Asteria and Fenris, filled for the following (abridged) prompt on the DA kink meme:
"Okay so, no matter how powerful a mage she is, Hawke is still not going to be as strong as Fenris physically. I would really, really like to see Fenris take advantage of that some way. Nothing non con. Maybe Hawke gets irritated when he smugly opens jars for her, but secretly loves the fact that he can..."
Most of the drabbles in this collection will be pretty lighthearted. It's something for me to work on when I need to unwind from the more serious pieces. It's also bloody cold in the New England area right now, so I feel this is appropriate.