Here you are IrishxCoffee, a Fenris/Hawke scene just for you! well, technically, I was writing it anyway but your review made me smile :)

All I own is Bell. That is all.

Hawke POV

There was something on me. Soft, warm and…snoring? I opened my eyes slowly and let them adjust to the dim, candle-lit room. Then I smiled.

There was Bell, laying buried under mountains of sheets and drowning in a golden sea of her own hair.

"What am I to do with you?" I whispered softly then leaned over to kiss her forehead without waking the sleeping beast.

Bell snorted gently, groaned, turned away and resumed her sleepy song.

I rolled out of bed, quite as a mouse and wobbled on my feet. The room spun like I'd had one to many Hanged Man specials…without all the violent vomiting, of course.

"Ugh." I braced myself on my bedpost until the world calmed down then stumbled over to the wash basin. The water was fresh as newly fallen rain; clear and cool. I cupped some in my hands to drink and slicked back the hair in my eyes with the rest.

I took a tentative but deep breath and smiled happily. Breathing without daggers stabbing one's insides was a feeling one tended to take for granted. Never again.

Speaking of which…

My fingers brushed against the spot on my stomach and found naught but smooth skin. Not even a scar.

Anders must have been here, I thought. Certainly wasn't Bell's work, Maker love her. Poor dear couldn't heal a stubbed toe to save her life.

Lit a fireplace like a champ, though.

I gathered my hair into a loose tie and quietly dressed myself in a tunic and leathers. Dawn might still be some time coming but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. As I slipped on my boots, one of the daggers sewn to the side came off with a loud clang.

"Bugger and Hell." I yanked the small dagger off the floor and waited for Bell to wake. She didn't. Thank the Maker for small miracles.

I crept silently to the windowsill because stairs were echoes waiting to happen and I was half convinced that blasted elf Orana never slept. and Windows were just see-through doors, really. A bit inconvenient but they got the job done alright.

With my daggers situated at my hip, I swung myself over the awning and came face-to-face with a weathered lion's stony eyes.

"Hello, hello." I used his gaping jaw as a handhold and let myself drop onto the balcony below. This was Mother's balcony. From here, you could see the whole city in all its bleak, smelly glory. Still, it was home. Rats, bums and all.

I climbed onto the balcony's ledge and made a leap for the vine-covered lattice. From there on, scampering down to the ground was easy.

It was a thief's favorite kind of night. What little moonlight there was seemed ripped to shreds by overhangs and decoration. The shadows practically screamed 'please, take my gold."

I sighed as I walked, my thumbs looped lazily around my belt. It was a content sigh. Right now, the physiology of my thoughts hindered entirely on left foot, right foot and repeat with a bit of 'try not to fall arse up on the cobblestone' thrown in for good measure.

And it was lovely.

Silence, even in my own bloody head, was like a rare and precious jewel.

So I walked, listening to the infernal squawk of seabirds overhead and crickets crunching under my boots. During the summer months, Kirkwall was all but overrun with the annoying, creepy little buggers. Crickets in the street, crickets in the drain, crickets on the walls and, Maker, I swear they smelled worse than the fish-gutters down at the docks. Like rotted leaves and sour milk.

And they made it right impossible to move quietly. Step. Crunch. Step. Crunch. Step. Crunch; almost like walking in black, living snow.

I walked up some stairs and took a left, not really minding my way. Let my legs go where they may, the rest of me was just along for the ride.

Then, as if by instinct, I stopped. My eyes rose to a gloomy door I'd seen many times; the wood was chipped and splintered, the paint scratched. It really was a terrible door and easier to pry open than a courtesan's legs.

I looked down at my own legs, looking all innocent in the face of guilt.

"Right." I said. "Well, you don't get to make the decisions anymore."

Still…I was here. It'd be rather rude of me not to drop in and say hello, wouldn't it? Mother would be absolutely appalled at my lack of decorum.

I grinned brightly and tried the knob, knowing full well it'd be unlocked. Maker love him, he did try but I think at some point he realized locking the door was all but pointless.

That wasn't my fault, really; I did knock but he'd never answer and I wasn't just going to go away. Besides, what did he have that someone might wish to take? The market for dusty, hole-filled curtains was not quite a booming one.

"Fenris?" My voice echoed off the empty walls. He was up, I was sure. I'd come to the conclusion that he, like Orana, never slept. It was fascinating but, when I asked, all he'd say was that he preferred the night. Of course, then I'd asked him if he was a vampire and it'd all gone downhill fast from there. What a priceless face he'd made though.

That…smoldering smirk. Mmm. Mmm.

"Fen-ris…"

The fireplace wasn't lit in the foyer but, then, it never was unless I was here. Shame, too; the warm glow did much to alleviate the dreariness of this place.

"Fenris, if you're ignoring me on purpose…" I called. "I'll thump your ears so hard, you'll not be able to hear for a week."

I turned the corner and stepped deftly over a trip wire rigged to dump an arseload of silverware onto the stone if tripped. Not dangerous, but quite bothersome if one wanted to remain undetected.

I'd half a mind to trip it on purpose.

Just as I passed a darkened archway, all I saw was a flash of blue and suddenly I was thrust up against the wall. The force knocked the breath from my chest and I hissed as my eyes clouded over.

"Hawke?"

Fenris was out of focus, blurry and very, very angry.

"Are you insane?" he growled. "It's the middle of the night. I could have killed you."

"I did call out." I regained my sensibilities enough to breath. "But, clearly, you are deaf."

His face softened. "I…did not hear you. I am sorry."

Oh, those lips. They drew in my eyes like nothing else; watching them work was an art form. Using them only to form words seemed such a horrendous waste of talent.

I grinned in the darkness. "So should you be. Attacking poor, helpless little me."

Fenris raised a snowy brow. "Helpless? Hawke, I've met Qunari more helpless than you."

His breath smelled of spiced wine and warmed my cheek and I shrugged my shoulders just to hide the shiver of pleasure this agonizingly small detail caused.

"Fenris, sweetie? Rough play is fun and all," I said, drawing his eyes to mine. "But my arms are going numb."

"Ah." He pushed himself off me and looked away as I rubbed my sore arms. "I apologize."

"No need." I straightened my shirt and brushed the hair from my eyes.

"Why are you here?" Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and watched me wearily.

"Why? To see my favorite glowy elf, of course." I smiled brightly. "Where's the wine?"

I ducked into the darkened archway and saw that it was, at one time, a study. Now the only thing the bookshelves collected was dust. Still, big, fluffy chair called out to me and I flopped into it.

"Nice room."

Fenris grunted as he lit a candle then reached for a glass bottle on a stand not too far away. "It suffices."

"Sarcasm, Fenris." I yanked the bottle from his hands and took a massive swig. Wine was always best straight from the bottle and this wine was smooth and fruity.

"Noted." He grabbed the bottle back with a smirk and settled down in the chair beside me.

"Hawke…are you…" Fenris cleared his throat nervously. "How are you feeling?"

"Like rainbows and candy." I reached out to steal the wine back but he was faster, pulling it just out of my reach.

"Hawke." He warned.

I sighed. "What do you want me to say, Fenris? If you're asking about the gaping hole in my side, it's closed, I'm alive and all my inside bits are where they should be."

Fenris eyes flared angrily as he all but slammed the wine bottle down on the small table.

"Why did you take the hit for me Hawke?" He growled.

I froze; a momentary lapse, nothing more but a mistake nonetheless.

Well, weren't we as blunt as ever.

I pulled myself together quickly and snatched the bottle up with a fixed smile.

"I'm quite sure I have no idea what you mean." I took a large drink and licked my lips. "Wrong place, wrong time, wasn't paying enough attention. It happens."

"Nothing just happens." He said. "Not to you."

"The Blight." I countered.

"Of which you were well ahead of and do not change the subject." Fenris took the bottle from my hands mid-drink and ignored my heated, narrowed eyes.

"Alright. So I took the hit." I folded my arms in challenge across my chest. "My company, my rules, love."

"That…" Fenris sighed heavily then all but guzzled the wine as if washing down whatever he might have been about to say. When he finally came up for air his eyes had lost their fire. "It's my job to protect you, Hawke."

"Oops. See, I knew I'd gotten it mixed up." I gave him a sweet smile and held out my hand. "Wine, please."

Fenris handed me the bottle with a shake of his head; it still shared the warmth of his skin.

"Do not…" he paused. I watched him over the rim of the bottle as I took a drink. He looked deep in thought, as if searching for the right words.

When he looked at me, I saw fear. "Do not do that again."

I lowered the bottle slowly. My eyes swept over his lithely muscular body, free of all that nasty, prickly armor; just a simple black tunic and bottoms. Elegant and masculine.

"I'd suggest paying attention then." I purred then slipped my lips over the bottle's opening in a manner not meant for drink.

A thrill ran through me to watch his gaze darken as it latched on to my lips. Even better, the very tips of his ears flushed red.

How so very adorable.

"Hawke." There was roughness in his voice not caused by the alcohol. It made my belly go all gooey with heat.

"Yes." Bugger it all. That came out far more breathless than I'd have liked.

Fenris smirked knowingly. "You have still not told me why you're here."

"Oh, that." I motioned casually with the wine. "That…yes, that. Be a dear and pretend I'm drunk, would you? And, perhaps, forgive me this little midnight dalliance? Hmm.?"

"I can do that." He said, his voice washing over her like black velvet as he leaned in closer.

"Good." I felt drawn in by him; his scrumptious scent, those big, intense eyes that looked through me, into me.

The chair creaked underneath me as I met him halfway until our lips hovered just inches apart.

"You know," He purred dangerously. "What I want, Hawke."

Maker, yes. "Do I?"

"Hmm."

Suddenly my precious wine was wrenched straight out of my bloody hands and the culprit flopped back into his chair grinning like a mad king.

"I…what…sodding elf, that's my move." My chin fell heavily into my palm and I pouted. Pouted for all it was worth.

"I learned from the best." He shrugged then stood and offered her his hand. "Come. There's more, if you so desperately wish to drown yourself in wine."

I grinned brightly and took his hand. It was warm and pleasantly callused. "Yes, please."

Hours passed. We drank, Fenris lit a fire and we talked. A lot. About nothing, really. I needed this senselessness, this moment; free of impending doom where the most important discussion was why I liked the color blue and how very adorable he'd be if he'd only stop frowning for five blighted minutes.

Eventually, in the wee hours of the morning, I finally fell into a wine-induced slumber. When I woke, sunlight was beaming in on my face from a broken rafter and I was very comfortable and quite warm despite the fit my head was throwing.

The source of the warmth laid beneath my head; an arm. I smiled sleepily and nestled back down beside Fenris and closed my eyes.

Chaos might be the story of my life and, eventually, I'd have to go back to it all with a chirp in my voice and a smile on my face. But not right the second.

Take your pleasures where you can, that's what I always say. And here, now, just feeling his warm chest beneath his shirt rise and fall to the rhythm of his heartbeat was good enough for me.