Dragon Age 2 isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. So is Fenris and my version of Hawke and all the wonderfuness of the world of Thedas!

I blame all written works on the bioware community for inspiring me to write about the stuff in between the years for Angel Hawke and Fenris. Much love to be had by all. Be kind!

A/N: So I blame the BSN Anders thread for a sudden departure from the DA2 universe in favor for Mass Effect and an unhealthy obsession with Thane, Kaiden, and Garrus. These three men are wonderful characters and I've got a couple of stories I'll be posting once I get them out of my dreams! I apologize for the abrupt non-updating of this story!

Heat

Angel flopped on to her bed, an utterly ungraceful motion. She bent one tired arm over her forehead, the sweat of the day's adventure rolling heavily down the back of her neck. Her dark hair fanned out behind her head, having finally managed to escape the red leather strap she'd been wearing in an attempt to tame it. As she lay there, sweating, dirty, and exhausted it dawned on her that she should ask Orana to draw her a cold bath. Instead, she just continued to lie there, sweating.

The heat from the summer sun had warmed the stone walls of her bedroom, making the room nearly unbearable to be in. Even though the cooled evening air was spilling into open windows through billowing curtains, it did little to soothe the humidity. The weight of the air was stifling, causing her to take slow, deep breaths to really feel as if she were getting any benefit from the act.

As she lie there, slowly breathing in and out, she let her mind wander over the events of the last few weeks. As Champion of Kirkwall she had been expected to take care of all sorts of silly little problems. She assumed the Vicount used to have to deal with these things, but there was no longer a Vicount. Knight-Commander Meredith was to busy trying to save Kirkwall from the impending doom of "Blood Mages Swooping Down Upon us". Thus, these Hightown disputes had ended up piling up in her mailbox.

She half believed that Aveline and Bran had been conspiring to drive her insane. The Seneshal was doing his best, but anything he didn't have time for ended up on Aveline's desk. Which meant anything that wasn't directly crime-related ended up on the desk of Angel Hawke. Not that she didn't appreciate Aveline and the difficult nature of her job. Of course Angel understood. After all, she'd been instrumental in the red-head's promotion to Guard-captain almost 7 years prior.

In fact, it was nearly the anniversary of their meeting, Angel Hawke and her strange band of friends. She'd met them all over the course of her first two years in Kirkwall, and while there was no exact date, they'd always chosen to celebrate it on the anniversary of Carver's death. It had been, and always was a fitting tribute to her brother.

She'd have to get with Varric to start planning. Her brain mulled quietly over details of this years party for a bit, weighing the idea of having it at her home this year, instead of at the Hanged Man. The heat wouldn't allow her to linger on one thought to long though, and her heat and sweat soaked mind continued to wander, bringing up memories of her friends.

She'd met Aveline first, the strong ginger big-sister type. They'd met the day that both Ser Wesley, and Bethany, had died. The combined loss had bonded the two, and Angel had long ago accepted the older woman as a surrogate-sibling. She could never replace Bethany in her heart, but then Aveline had never tried. She wasn't a replacement, just an addition to the family.

Varric had been next in the list. She'd met him when She and Carver were desperately trying to find a way to get their mother out of her horrible uncle's shack-of-a-home in Lowtown. A spasm of pain shot through her chest as she thought of her brother. One more family member lost to her, Carver had died when they'd finally managed to get what they were searching for. The Deep Roads was a way for them to make enough money to hide behind, enough money to get their mother out of the slums.

The Dwarf was Angel's best friend in the whole world. He knew everything about her. Aveline may have been the long lost sister she never had, but Varric was the dwarven male version of herself. He and she had minds alike, with their joint ability to make every uncomfortable situation ten times worse with a badly timed joke. Angel's mother had teased the dwarf once, that he must have been my father's love child, rather then a Tethras.

Varric still hadn't forgiven himself for Carver's death. Angel hadn't either. It hadn't been either of their faults, but 6 years later they still toasted to him, and together they mourned the man that he'd never be able to become. Angel rubbed her arm across her eyes, brushing away the tears building up in her eyes. It was to hot to cry. Instead she took a slow, steady breath, and let her mind wander to the next person she'd met that year. Isabella.

Isabella was fun as hell. She was like all of the crazy, flirty, dirty, fun, naughty bits of Hawke, manifest into the most sultry dark skinned beauty to ever walk Thedas. Isabella was a pirate, a pirate queen, in fact. Bela was what Hawke always wanted to be like, but was never quite brave enough. Bela was Hawke's partner in crime, eager to go on amazing shopping sprees with her, especially since it was Hawke's money they were always spending.

They'd gone through a lot, her and Bela. The Quinari presence had been directly Bela's fault. She had been a different person when she'd come to Kirkwall, and Hawke's insistent need to 'do the right thing' had eventually proven to Bela that she was a better person then she'd given herself credit for.

She really, truly was a good person, underneath the booze, sex, and self indulgence. Angel had know it almost right out of the box, but it had taken the rest of her friends a bit longer to come to terms with this. What had show this to Hawke had been the pirate's ability to take just about everything in stride, even things she disagreed with. Isabella had taken Hawke under her wing, and opened the whole world up to her. She'd done something similar with their friend, Merrill.

It had taken Angel a long time to truly trust and respect Merrill. Carver had always liked the elf, developing the most adorable crush Angel had ever seen. For herself though, the younger woman had felt threatening. It hadn't been long enough since she'd lost Beth, and this adorable, tooth-achingly sweet mage set every single one of her hairs on end. Obviously Merrill wasn't a replacement, but for a while it had felt that way.

It also didn't help that the elf was a Blood Mage. Angel was a lot of things, including dangerous, but never would she entertain the idea of Blood Magic. Malcolm had gone to great lengths to instill a healthy dose of religion in their lives. The whole lot of them might have been dirty, no good Apostates running from the chantry, but there was no way in Void that they would become Malificars.

It was actually one of the big reasons why she and Anders had gotten along so swimmingly. Anders. Had they'd been in another world, another life, another time, Angel Hawke and Anders might have been lovers. They might have married, run off together like her father and mother had..

She and Anders were alike in so many ways. They both believed firmly that Mages were people too. They believed that mages should have the opportunity to live. Live, by being able to freely marry, to be able to stay in the arms of loving parents rather then being torn forcefully from them at 5 or 6 years old. The basic rights every human, elf, dwarf, and quinari were granted. These things should be extended to mages.

Yes, Mages were dangerous. There was never any doubt to this fact. The issue wasn't that they were dangerous, but that they were prisoners! They needed training, education. Her father had taught her and Bethany how to use their gift for good. They were free to be mages and people in their home. The problem was, that they weren't free to be both in the rest of the world.

A passionate cause, and a passionate man. He was golden and gorgeous, righteous and strong. A towering flame burning for a cause, her cause. The man was sexy as hell, and had Angel met him at any other point in his life.. Or perhaps not. From what he had told them over the years, she probably would have avoided him like the plague.

Angel herself was a flirt, a tease. It had been the one thing she could always control in her life, the attention of every and any man she'd chosen. She had been virgin, not quite brave enough to go completely all the way with someone. Besides, it had always been about the chase. Once she actually had what she wanted, it was boring and she'd move on to the next doe-eyed man.

Anders had been a 'take what you want' kind of man in his younger years. If she'd have met him before his joining with Justice, they probably would have hated each other. She was a tease, and so was he.. but for him, winning was the conquest. Winning for her was the moment before the conquest, when she simply would turn the object of her current game down and walk away. Drop him like a brick and pick a new target. It would have ended up a disaster.

Truth be told, the reason she and Anders hadn't worked was because of the last person in her group to touch her life that year. Had she never met him, Anders and her probably would be horrifying Bohdan with amazing apostate sex every night. Or they would have gone insane teasing one another until they died of sexual frustration. One or the other, really.

The final person, the one who she had met last and liked the least had been an Ex-slave. Fenris. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the white-haired elf. She licked her lips, remembering that first meeting. She hadn't ever bothered to even look at a male elf till then. Who would? Elves kept to themselves, and she had been far more interested in teasing the Templar recruits in Lothering then bother to care what the elves in the barns thought.

Fenris, with his taught, muscular body and dark emerald green eyes. Fenris with the deep voice that always sent shivers down her spine. Fenris, with the lyrium burned into his flesh and the brooding and .. and.. and suddenly it was hot in her bedroom for an entirely different reason.

She licked her lips again, her cheeks flushed, goosebumps erupting over her flesh as she lie there, eyes closed, thinking of the one man in all of Thedas that she'd allowed into her bed. He had been worthy of her. He was strong, and steady. Even if he disagreed with everything she believed about the freedom of mages, things she shared in common with Anders... He, Fenris, had been the only thing she'd ever truly wanted for herself.

Fenris. When she'd met him she'd instantly disliked him. He was gorgeous, mind you, but irritating. He'd tricked them into fighting slavers for him. That alone pissed her off. He should have just ASKED. Angel hated slavers. Mind you she didn't really give a shit about elves, but slavery in general was just sodding wrong. In fact she and her bother had murdered a half-dozen of the ilk while exploring the basement of their 'should be' home in a fact finding mission to find their grandfathers will not five hours previous.

Then to top it all off, he had the sodding nerve to insult her for being a mage after she'd just helped him for free. The indignity of it all had sent her mouth running, and she'd done the only thing she knew how to do. She flirted with him. Easier to flirt then get mad or be irritated, or let someone know that they got under her skin. Especially when it was a man.

Make them like you, then dump them on their ass. It was her favorite game, and Fenris became the new target. He'd gotten under her skin, and she wanted him to know just what kind of mistake he'd made. Unknown to her though, was that the game had turned into something much, much more.

She started bringing him along for everything she did. Any time she'd leave the city, she'd bring him with her. Trips to the coast meant skinny-dipping with Bela while he stood guard. Trips to the mountains meant only one tent. Nights at the Hanged Man meant partially-drunken dancing in VERY short skirts, games of strip poker, truth or dare, and wicked grace.

All this in the first year, and he didn't even FLINCH. It drove her insane. He didn't bite, didn't budge. It was if she was a piece of wood, with the amount of interest he had shown. What's worse, was that Isabella had been making more progress in the "Attract Fenris" department then she had. It had almost made her hate the woman. Almost.

It wasn't until the deep roads, that Fenris finally showed his feelings. After she had put the knife to her brother, she'd been inconsolable. She'd found the farthest corner of their camp that she could and still remain safe, curled up into a ball, and let herself crumble into little pieces. He'd simple sat next to her, and given her a strong shoulder to cry on. Varric had never been very good with women crying. Not to mention that he was blaming himself and in no state to comfort her. Fenris, in all his awkwardness at not being able to relate, simple sat and let her cry. He had run his fingers through her hair, kissed her forehead, and just let her cry. She stopped trying to tease him, after that..

A deep laugh brought her back to reality, and she opened one single golden eyeball to peer in the direction of the voice. Fenris had materialized in her room, standing by the window. He was good at that, just appearing, when ever she thought about him. She closed her eye, a wide grin spreading across her face. He didn't technically live with her, but he no longer let her spend her nights alone.

He stared down at the dark haired woman sprawled out over the red silk bedsheets. Every time he looked at her, he fell in love all over again. This time was no different, even if she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and dirt. He chuckled lightly and moved to take his armor off. He never traveled around Kirkwall with out it. It just wasn't safe enough, especially in Hightown at night. Once inside the Amell estate, though, he didn't need it. Once he was down to just his leathers, he spoke.

"You really should get out of that armor, Angel. You're going to sweat to death, and then what would I do?" His deep voice rumbled, sending goosebumps down her flesh.

"Mmh, to hot. Come do it for me?"

"Tempting, very tempting." his voice was closer now, and she felt his hands slip around her middle. She didn't bother to open her eyes as she felt herself being lifted off the bed and into his arms. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck and bare shoulder.

"Lets go take a bath." He said simply, and carried her towards the bathroom.