Dinner had not been that bad indeed. At a certain point Fenris had even started to enjoy it. Leandra was a gentle woman, and she had not made any suggestions towards something going on between him and Hawke, which he had feared she would do. It was nice to feel welcome in someone's home.

Tonight, he had decided to join the rest in the Hanged Man again. He had skipped at least three of their meetings, but now he almost longed for the careless company they offered.

He was late. Everyone else was already sitting around the large table in Varric's suite, except for Aveline and Sebastian, who both had other duties this evening. The first thing Fenris noticed was his usual seat next to Hawke being occupied. Anders had taken his place. He thought he could see a satisfied smile flash across the abomination's face when he saw Fenris enter. Fenris fought back the anger he felt at that and took the last empty chair next to Isabela. She smiled at him as he sat down. The greater the distance to Hawke, the better.

"Good to see you have finally decided to join us again, Elf," Varric said cheerfully.

"Did you miss me?" teased Isabela.

"Very," he replied dryly. She chuckled at his tone.

"I'm still dying to hear the details."

"Then die, because I won't tell you a damn thing."

"Details? About what?" The blood mage interfered in the conversation. "Have I missed something?"

"Oh Kitten, how can you have missed it?"

"I don't know. I always miss the exciting things it seems. But it's not very nice of him to say you should die. I don't want you to die, Isabela."

"Aw, thank you, Kitten."

"Are we going to play cards or not?" Fenris grumbled.

"Alright, alright." Isabela fished a much-used deck of cards out of the folds of her white linen 'dress' and began to deal them.

His cards were bad, as far as he could see. Soon after the game started, Fenris quickly glanced in Hawke's direction. He appeared to be in a serious conversation with the abomination, who was softly speaking to him. Being at the other side of the table, Fenris could not hear what he was saying. He only knew that he did not like how much Anders bent towards Hawke so that Hawke could still hear him while he was speaking as quietly as possible. Hawke shook his head at something Anders said.

"Your turn, sweet thing."

Fenris turned his attention to the cards in his hand. He really had a lousy set. He tossed one of them on the table. Isabela pretended to think hard about her move. As she finally laid a card on the table, Fenris thought he saw her slip another card between her breasts. She caught him looking and rewarded him with one of her seductive smiles. Embarrassed and annoyed, he looked away.

Varric began one of his tales. Fenris quickly looked at Hawke again to see if he was listening to Varric. He was still talking to Anders. How can that man possibly have something so interesting to say? He grabbed one of the tankards that was on the table and took a large gulp. Ale. He did not like ale; he preferred wine. Still, it was better than nothing.

He lost the first game. Isabela dealt new cards around.

"Don't forget the one in your... blouse."

She held it up. "You mean this one?"

"Isabela! Are you cheating again?" Merrill.

"I always cheat, Kitten. That's why I always win."

Why is Hawke so interested in everything that abomination has to say? Fenris hoped Hawke was actually bored and just did not know a way to make Anders shut up, but he seemed to amuse himself well enough. His loud, thundering laugh that suddenly resonated in the room was impossible to miss.

With a mood that was rapidly getting worse, Fenris stared at his new set of cards. Again not much good.

"Your turn again," Isabela purred. "Are you distracted? Perhaps by seeing these beautiful walls here..?"

Fenris shot her an angry look and threw one of cards on the table without seeing which. He emptied his tankard and gestured at the serving girl that he wanted another one.

"I think they would look prettier with flowers. I could paint them for you, Varric."

Varric chuckled. "I don't think the owner would appreciate that. Perhaps Hawke would like a few flowers, Daisy."

"What flowers do you think he would like?"

"I bet something with thorns."

How funny they all are.

"You mean roses?"

What is Hawke talking about? The abomination looks too content... and Hawke as well.

The blood mage giggled. When he looked at her, he saw her big eyes were aimed at him.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are in love."

He blinked. "I am not."

"You keep looking at Hawke with sad puppy eyes every time he is not looking."

"There are no puppy eyes." And I am not in love.

"Oh, he really has puppy eyes, doesn't he?" Isabela joined in.

"He does make a very broody puppy," Varric added. "I'm not sure puppies are allowed to be that broody."

Hawke's interest awoke when he heard the others laughing. "What's so funny?"

Fenris got up. "Nothing. I'm leaving."

"Oh, so soon? Okay. Uhm... tomorrow still reading, right?"

"Yes. Have a nice evening."

He already made it through the door when he heard Isabela say she was going to get more drinks at the bar and caught up with him.

"Why did you dump Hawke?" she asked.

When Fenris did not answer, she continued: "Because it's obvious you like him."

"I am not in love."

"Fenris."

He stopped in front of the exit and turned to her. "What?" he snapped.

"You are afraid of hurting him, aren't you?"

He stared at the ground.

"Look, I am not the person who can give you much advice about love, but... Hawke can handle himself. All I know is that he likes you too."

"You're right. You are not the person to give any advice about this." He left without waiting for what else she might have had to say.

Once he got back to his mansion, Fenris immediately went to the cellar to open a bottle of wine. He had bought a few at the Lowtown market earlier today. No doubt it would taste awful, but right now he did not care. He took large gulps out of the bottle and soon it was half empty. He stared at it, then smashed it to the ground. Glass splinters and wine flew through the room. The scent of alcohol filled the air. Curse that stupid blood mage. He kicked a table upside down and even pulled one of the shelves of the wall, smashing the bottles that were stored there. Letting out a shout of helpless frustration, he slammed his fist against the wall.

"I am not in love!"

He slammed again and felt the skin of his knuckles break open against the cold stones.

"I. Am." Slam. "NOT." Slam. "In. Love." He felt something in his hand break. Panting, he turned around and leaned with his back against the wall.

"I am not in love."

Slowly, he slid down to the ground, in the pool of glass splinters and liquor. He kept repeating the words, as a mantra. I am not in love. I don't love him. I can't. I don't want to. I want to hate him. Hating is easier.
But I want to stop hating as well. I am sick of it.
I am not in love. I don't know what love is. I barely know who I am anymore. Or I have never known.

It took him a long time to regain his calm. Finally, his breathing slowed and most of the frustration ebbed away. I should not let the thing that stupid blood mage says get to me. No reason to get upset for something like that. She's a fool. The things she says don't mean a thing. No reason to lose control.

He got to his feet, albeit a little unsteadily. His hand hurt. It was swollen pretty badly and looked almost twice as thick as it normally was. He would have to let Hawke heal it; there was no way he could hold a sword like this, or even a quill.

He ignored the glass that cut in his bare feet while he staggered back to the stairs.

Hawke arrived early in the following morning.

"There's trouble and I could use your help," he said. "Something with the Qunari."

"I'll come with you, but first I need healing." Fenris held out his right hand, with the scraped and broken knuckles.

"How did you get that?"

"Bad judgment. I made a mistake during a job. Mercenary work," he added as Hawke raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"When did you have the job? Yesterday night?"

"Yes. Night work."

"And there was a guy you had trouble handling. At a mercenary's job. You had trouble."

"It's not like he beat me," Fenris felt almost offended by Hawke's reaction to his excuse. "He's dead now."

"It looks like it hurts. Give me your hand and I will heal it."

Hawke's warm fingers closed around Fenris' hand. The welcome feeling of the heeling magic spread through his hand. The lyrium veins lit up. The small bones of his hand shifted back into place. The skin of his knuckles melted together. The pain disappeared.

"Done."

Fenris looked into Hawke's piercing blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to look through him and made his stomach clench. His hand felt cold and empty in the absence of Hawke's fingers.

I am not in love.