A/N: prompt from tumblr: eternity
Fenris was a light sleeper.
Such a light sleeper, in fact, that Hawke considered it a little victory whenever she managed to wake up before him. It was always strange–waking up on mornings like this, with Fenris' still form curled up on the other side of the bed. Whenever Hawke did manage to catch him sleeping, he was always in the same position, far from her and taking up as little space as possible. She didn't mind, though; when morning came, that empty space between them didn't last long.
Carefully, Hawke propped herself up onto her elbows and leaned towards Fenris, her eyes tracing the lyrium lines and the scars and every inch of bare skin. Moving slowly, she reached over and flicked an errant lock of hair out of his face, smiling because after everything–the arguments, the waiting, the uncertainty–there was no better feeling than waking up beside this one stupid, infuriating, perfect elf.
Fingers locked around Hawke's wrist, pulling her from her thoughts. Fenris smiled up at her, his green eyes playful. "Good morning."
"Isn't it?"
He chuckled, a sound she was quickly becoming accustomed to, and he released his grip on her wrist, his fingers moving to intertwine with hers.
"Let's just stay here," Hawke suggested lightly. "We'll never leave–just let the city crumble without its Champion." There would always be more templars, or more mages, but mornings like this were rare, and Hawke wanted to make it last.