A/N: Aaand here we go again! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews! They really keep me going. 3
"Am I the best, or am I the best?" Isabela grinned as she cornered Hawke on the way back from the bathroom.
"What did you do?" the mage asked, glancing furtively around.
"I just gave Varric a little kick and directed his attention to Fenris, who I swear was about to burn a hole in the wall with his glare. And then Varric caught on right away and—shit you not, do you know what he said?"
"No, what?"
Isabela grinned widely, then adopted her best impression of the dwarf. Dropping her voice, she jerked her head to the side and said, " 'Go get her already, Broody.' "
Hawke felt her cheeks burning, her breath catching in her chest. "He said that? And Fenris didn't punch him?"
"Of course not! He just got right up and stormed over to you and Anders, looking like he was about to murder him, and—well, you know the story from there. He's a hell of a dancer though, isn't he?"
She nodded, a giddy smile reaching her lips. "He's a very good dancer."
"And?"
"And?" she asked, looking at Isabela uncertainly. The pirate prodded her side, trying to get more details.
"Come on, tell me more than that!"
"It was a very nice song?"
"And?"
"And—he's very strong."
"Is that all? Was he angry? Did he flirt?"
"I-I don't know. I don't think he was flirting. He looked angry until the end."
"Well when he stopped looking angry, why was that?" Isabela urged her, glancing around furtively to make sure no one was listening in.
"I don't know…"
"What were you talking about?"
Hawke hesitated, glancing away. "He asked if I was interested in Anders, and I said no."
The pirate grabbed the mage by the shoulders and shook her enthusiastically. "That's great! Do you not know what that means? He's totally interested in you and he's happy that you aren't interested in his biggest competition!"
"I—I dunno, Isabela. I mean, that'd be nice and all, but Fenris isn't like other men."
"Trust me, sweetie, when it comes to beautiful women, all men are the same. It doesn't matter how different they are in any other situation. If they both want a woman, they'll operate with the same thought patterns."
Hawke smiled weakly and shrugged. "Maybe."
The pirate huffed and let go of her. "You're both just being difficult. Just go try to get some alone time with him! Ask him to walk you home, or something."
Hawke let out a sigh. She was starting to remember just how exhausted she was. Maybe it was a good time to go get some sleep. Forcing a bright smile onto her lips despite her weariness, she headed back to the common room, tapping Varric lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, Varric."
He turned and gave her a warm smile. "Heading home?"
"I think I ought to. It's getting late, and I could use a good night's sleep."
"I hear that. I think everyone's having that idea. Aveline left a moment ago, and Junior and Daisy snuck off. Even Blondie went home."
Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. "Did he?"
The dwarf chuckled. "I think he bowed out when he realized he wasn't getting any tonight."
She playfully punched him on the arm and headed for the door. "Have a good night, Varric. Thanks for the party!" Stepping outside into the cool, crisp night air, Hawke drew in a deep breath.
"Would you go for a walk with me?" That deep, irresistible voice spoke up, and Fenris stepped out of the shadows by the door. "I know it is late, but…"
"I'd love to." She replied with a smile. Maybe Isabela was right, after all. Before he could step away, she reached out and laced her fingertips with his own.
Fenris glanced down, surprised, but didn't pull away. After a moment he relaxed, and his fingertips clasped around her own hand. Hawke didn't say it, but the gesture felt right, somehow. They set off down the street, Hawke's heels clicking against the stone in a light staccato, Fenris' footsteps as silent as ever.
"I had fun tonight. Did you?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied quietly, sounding as if he himself could hardly believe it. "Yes, I did. You… you look—beautiful."
It had been a nice compliment from everyone else. Hearing Fenris say it made Hawke's heart pound against her ribcage in fierce satisfaction. "Thank you."
As they neared the steps leading to Hightown, she hesitated. Fenris glanced at her, his brows furrowing. "Ah—were you planning on sleeping at home tonight?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh! No," she said with an awkward laugh. "Not if you don't mind me crashing at your place. I was just looking at all those steps. I have to get these shoes off first." Grasping the elf's arm for balance with one hand, she shifted her weight from side to side as she pried the heels off, sighing in relief as she let her bare feet rest against the ground. "Ohh, that's better."
"Were they very uncomfortable?" he asked as she picked the shoes up, holding them in her other hand.
"Ugh, like you wouldn't believe. You wanna try them on and see for yourself?" she teased, grinning.
He shook his head, peering at the shoes as if they would detonate. "No thank you. But you had me fooled. You were very graceful in them. I would never have guessed they were causing you such discomfort."
Hawke felt her cheeks burning as they started up the stairs. The satisfied feeling in her chest turned to a proud sort of ache in light of his compliment. "To be fair, you'd never seen me dance before. Maybe we should do it more often."
Fenris was quiet for so long that she was starting to think she'd said the wrong thing, somehow, when he finally spoke. His voice was tentative. "You… do not have your eye on anyone else?"
"We're the only ones here, aren't we?" she asked quietly, glancing up at him as they reached the top of the stairs that marked the beginning of Hightown.
"Answering my question with a question isn't really an answer at all, you know." He reminded her gently.
She smiled faintly, glancing away. "I'm sorry. No, Fenris. I don't have my eye on anyone else."
"I'm an elf and an escaped slave, squatting in a borrowed mansion. That doesn't bother you?"
"And I'm a Fereldan refugee and an apostate mage, spending more and more of my time lately living like a freeloader in said borrowed mansion. That doesn't bother you?"
"You did it again."
"Did what?"
"Answered my question with a question." He murmured.
"Come on, it was an appropriate response that time!" she protested, laughing gently.
He just stopped and looked at her, dark brows raised expectantly. Hawke found herself wondering if his hair was white as a result of the ritual performed on him. What would he look like with dark hair? Still devastatingly handsome, she thought. But he was still waiting for a response.
"No," she said. "Of course it doesn't bother me. What about you?"
He stared at his feet for a long time, not meeting her gaze. She supposed he was thinking hard about his answer. This would decide it—this would determine whether or not he was able to put aside his hatred of mages enough to make an exception for her. Meeting her gaze at last, he smiled just the tiniest bit. "It does not bother me."
Hawke could have let out a whoop for joy, and she nearly did—until she remembered where they were, and that the rich fuddy-duddies of Kirkwall would not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night by her exuberant cheering. So she just grinned at him, giving his hand a little squeeze, and they resumed walking.
As they entered Fenris' mansion, the elf released her hand at last and he locked the door behind them. In comfortable silence, they headed upstairs, though he hesitated at the door to the guest room he'd prepared for her. "Well… here we are." He announced unnecessarily.
"Yeah… thank you, Fenris. For everything." She murmured, glancing up at him. Her eyes met his own and she froze, unsure of what to do.
"You do not have to thank me. I like seeing you happy." His hand reached out, tentatively, thumb brushing along her jawline. The contrasting sensation of the warm, calloused pad of his thumb and the cool, smooth edge of his gauntlet set a shiver of pleasure up her spine, and Hawke leaned into the caress before he could interpret the tremble in the wrong way and withdraw.
"And I-" she never got to finish whatever vague, half-thought statement she was trying to reach for. Because the elf leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a slow, gentle kiss. The mage's breath caught in her chest as she returned the kiss, her full lips dancing against his own narrow ones. Neither of them tried to press the kiss further or deepen it, but it went on and on with a slow, blissful kind of ease that left Hawke dizzy with want. Her arms looped around his shoulders and he drew her in against himself, allowing her to nestle against his lanky frame. Somewhere along the line, her shoes fell from her fingertips and landed with a pair of loud thumps on the floor, but neither of them paid any mind.
At last they both pulled back to catch their breath. Hawke's cheeks were hot. Fenris' eyes were dark. "We—should stop. Lest I act with greater haste than a lady deserves."
Hawke was torn. Part of her was about to melt into a puddle because he was so determined to be a gentleman. But the rest of her wanted more, wanted him. But she knew, for his sake moreso than her own, she couldn't try to push things. They'd already come so far. And she didn't want to frighten him away. So the mage smiled up at him and gently disengaged from him. "Good night, Fenris." She whispered.
He released her, his fingers lingering at her hips for a moment longer before he pulled away. "Good night… Noel." He replied, voice hushed, before he took off down the hallway toward his room.
Hawke shut the door to her room behind herself and leaned against it, feeling a giddy smile on her face. She clapped her hands against her cheeks, handing sliding backward to curl her fingers into her hair. Had that really happened? She hadn't been dreaming, had she? No, she could still almost feel the pleasant weight of his hands at her hips and she could taste him on her lips. Crossing the room, she headed for the bed, fumbling with the corset as best she could from behind. But it was no good, she'd never be able to get it off on her own.
Isabela had thought of everything, it seemed.
Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Hawke stole down the hallway and tapped on the door to the master bedroom.
"Just a moment," Fenris called and, a few seconds later, the door opened. He'd already removed his tunic, revealing that gorgeous, perfectly-sculpted chest for the second time that day. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
She laughed nervously and turned away from him. "Would you mind getting me out of this corset? I don't know what Isabela did, but I can't get it off."
Fenris' deft fingers brushed along the red ribbon that formed the lacing for the corset, settling at last on the bow at the very bottom, just above her rear. Hawke tried her hardest to calm the nervous pounding of her heart. "She double-knotted it. No wonder you couldn't get it untied, not being able to see it." He murmured, going to work on the bow. He began unlacing the corset with swift, precise movements, finally drawing the ribbon away from the material completely. Hawke caught the corset before it could fall off her, and Fenris set the ribbon aside on a dresser.
She turned, smiling at him gratefully. "Thanks. I never would have been able to get to sleep with that thing on."
He nodded, not yet shutting the door. "Ah… did you—have you gotten the fire going in your room, yet?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. Getting out of the corset was priority one."
The elf swallowed—Hawke could see his adam's apple bob—and regarded her almost nervously. "Well… I have… I've already gotten the fire going in here. It's a little too cool to sleep without one. Would you… would you like to share tonight?"
Hawke felt that bright smile on her lips once again. "Okay." She said happily, and he ushered her into his room. Shutting the door after them, he motioned toward the bed as he began to move toward the corner. The mage touched his arm lightly. "Fenris? What are you doing?"
"I am letting you have the bed." He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Look here," she huffed. "The bed is big enough for two, and if you don't join me in it then I'll just have to sleep on the floor with you."
"Hawke, I don't want to rush thi-"
"We don't have to do anything," she mumbled, cheeks burning. "I just meant… you know, sleep. But I won't be comfortable with stealing your bed while you sleep on the floor. So either we share the bed, we share the floor, or I go sleep in my room and you can do whatever you were going to do in the first place."
"And there is no changing your mind, is there? Stubborn woman." He mused.
"Nope!" she chirped proudly, resting her hands on her hips.
"Alright, alright. You win." He said. Pleased by this, Hawke pranced to the bed and climbed under the blankets. Fenris followed more hesitantly, but eventually he did settle down under the covers. Hawke instinctively nestled against him, and he didn't pull away. After a moment, he gingerly draped his arm over her.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently, peeking up at him.
He nodded. "I am not used to this."
"I'm not either. Have you never…?"
The elf looked away, flames reflected in his eyes. "The ritual that put the markings in my skin, I—the pain was… extraordinary. It wiped away everything. All my memories. If there was anyone before then, I have no recollection."
"And no one since then?" she asked, blushing.
"Who could I trust? No, there hasn't been anyone since," Fenris murmured. "What about you?"
"Me? No. Maker, no. After all, who could I trust?" she asked with a small smile. "I could never have gotten close enough to anyone in Lothering, even if I had been attracted to them. And since then, well… I certainly wasn't about to get involved with anyone else working for Athenril. And you and I met shortly after I parted ways with her group."
Fenris nodded in silence. Tentatively, he spoke up. "What will your mother say?"
"I don't care," she grumbled. "She didn't even welcome me home. Too busy wrapped up in fussing about Carver leaving."
"She does love you." He said quietly.
"I know. She just picks a shitty way of showing it," Hawke replied, pausing to yawn. "Oh well. Tomorrow I'll go home and she'll apologize and I'll apologize and everything will be more or less alright again."
"I admire your certainty."
"That's how it's been for years now. Ever since Father died and I had to step up and take care of the family."
Fenris' hand traced tiny, gentle circles along her back, lulling the woman toward sleep. "When did he die?"
"Mm… about three years before the Blight." She mumbled, eyes lidding.
"And you spent a year working for Athenril. And then all this time getting ready for the expedition—so it's been over four years?"
"Time flies when you're having fun." Even she couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her tone, despite how tired she was.
Fenris just breathed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Sleep well."
"You too." She mumbled happily, surrendering at last to the bliss of rest, wrapped safely in his arms.