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The power is only out for about a minute before Hawke says, “I have an idea.”
Fenris glances up from the kitchen drawer he’s been digging through. “I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing,” he comments with a half-smirk as he retrieves what he was looking for: a lighter.
Hawke bounces over to him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We should build a pillow fort.”
Fenris closes the drawer and raises an eyebrow. “A pillow fort?” he repeats, lighter in hand.
“Yes!” Hawke says. “It’s dark and cold and stormy outside, and the power’s out, and my phone is on fifteen percent battery life. It’s perfect.”
Fenris isn’t quite sure he completely follows Hawke’s logic, but that’s not uncommon. “I don’t know how much help I would be,” he says, shifting his weight.
“That’s why you have me,” Hawke says without missing a beat. “We Hawkes are experts at building pillow forts.”
Fenris chuckles. “Alright. Sure. Just let me light some candles first so we can actually see in here.” He holds up the lighter.
Hawke beams, a smile that could probably light up the whole of Kirkwall on its own. “Great! I’ll start grabbing the pillows—and blankets!” With that, he rushes over to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Fenris shakes his head and tries not to smile.
Ten minutes, five candles, seven pillows, and four blankets later, Hawke and Fenris are sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank piece of scrap paper on their coffee table. Hawke taps his pencil against his chin, deep in thought. Fenris glances out the window, at the torrential downpour currently engulfing the city. A flash of lightning brightens the room, followed by a crack of thunder a moment later.
“Well. Clearly we’ll need to take the couch cushions out,” Hawke says, as if it’s obvious.
Fenris can’t help but laugh. “You sound so businesslike. As if you’re a scientist setting up an experiment.”
“I think I’m more of an architect, actually,” Hawke says as he starts to sketch out the “blueprint” of their pillow fort. Reflexively, Fenris smacks his hand against his forehead and laughs again.
“I’ve got it!” Hawke says, snapping his fingers and gesturing to the recliner on the other side of the room. He draws it on one side of the paper, fully reclined so that the footrest portion is sticking straight out. Then, on either side, he draws a couch cushion, with another large pillow to finish the “roof.”
“Will that work?” Fenris asks.
Hawke puts a hand against his chest in mock offense. “Fenris, your skepticism wounds me,” he says dramatically. Setting the pencil down and standing up, he says, “Let’s get to work!”
They start, as Hawke suggested, by removing the couch cushions. Then Fenris pulls the lever on the recliner so that the footrest is all the way out, like in the drawing. Hawke grabs one of the couch cushions and shoves it right underneath one end of the footrest. Height-wise, it fits perfectly—the only way it would ever fall over is if someone pushed it. It’s a bit longer than the recliner and sticks out a bit, but that just makes the fort bigger.
Fenris does the same thing with another cushion so that they’re matching on either side. Hawke nods approvingly and reaches for a blanket. When Fenris stares at him in confusion, Hawke says, “Well, we’re not just gonna lay down on the carpet. What are we, barbarians?”
Fenris helps him spread the blanket out on the floor. (They realize simultaneously that they probably should have done this first.) Then Hawke grabs a pillow from their bed and rests it on the gap between the two cushions that isn’t covered by the footrest. Fenris grabs another blanket and spreads it out on top of the “roof.”
“Yes! Good!” Hawke says with a grin, grabbing a few more pillows and tossing them inside the fort. “Let’s check it out!”
Before Fenris has the chance to point out how small it looks, Hawke crawls on his elbows and stomach into the pillow fort, so Fenris shrugs and follows his lead.
When they’re both inside, they find themselves shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, squished up next to each other. Their feet are sticking out of the fort, and they can barely lift their heads up without hitting the underside of the footrest. “Hawke, I don’t mean to criticize,” Fenris says slowly, “but it’s a bit…small.”
Hawke seems to be thinking the same thing. “You know, I just realized something,” he says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “The last time I did this, I was eleven years old and about four foot ten.”
Fenris snorts and buries his face in his forearms. “Well, we tried.”
But Hawke doesn’t seem completely ready to give up his quest. “No. It needs to be better than this,” he says, furrowing his brows. “There has to be another way.”
For a moment, they lie on the floor in silence—Hawke thinking deeply, and Fenris watching him. His chest swells with fondness at Hawke’s constant determination, his drive, no matter how big or small the task. There’s a part of Fenris that suddenly just really wants to kiss him.
“Eureka!” Hawke shouts suddenly, leaping up automatically and banging his head against the “ceiling” of the fort. Completely unfazed, he crawls out of the fort. “I’ll be right back!”
By the time Fenris exits the fort, Hawke is already gone, but he soon returns with a giant bed sheet. Fenris raises an eyebrow. “And this fixes all our problems...how?”
Hawke throws the sheet onto the ground, on top of their unused blankets and pillows. “Clear the living room,” he says without answering Fenris’s question. “I’ll explain then.”
So they tear down their first attempt at a pillow fort and push the recliner and the coffee table closer to the wall. “Okay,” Hawke says, clapping his hands together. “Now. We need three dining room chairs.”
Fenris cocks his head to one side in confusion, but he doesn’t question it. He’s learned over the years that there is (usually) a method to Hawke’s nonsense.
As he carries one of the chairs from the dining room into the living room, he calls over his shoulder, “I thought you said you would explain this to me.”
Hawke appears in the dining room entrance with one chair on each shoulder. “I will. After we get these chairs.”
Fenris can’t help it; he laughs so hard he nearly drops his own chair. “You look absurd,” he says. “How are you going to get through the doorway?”
“Sideways, baby!” Hawke proclaims, turning his body to one side and bending his knees so that the chairs don’t hit the top of the doorway. Sure enough, ridiculous though it seems, this method allows him to successfully inch his way through the door and into the hallway.
“Surely there are easier ways to carry those chairs,” Fenris says as they make their way to the living room and set the chairs down.
“Yes, but they’re less fun,” Hawke replies with a grin.
Fenris just smiles and shakes his head. “So, what’s your Plan B?”
Hawke cracks his knuckles. “Okay,” he says, grabbing one of the chairs and setting it down at one end of the living room area, facing the couch. “We’re gonna put these chairs in a triangle formation.” As he speaks, he takes a second chair and positions it on the other side of the room so that it and the first chair are back-to-back. Fenris, picking up on his idea, grabs the third chair and positions it equidistant from the other two, with its back facing them.
“Great! Perfect!” Hawke says, rushing over to their pile of bed accessories and grabbing the bed sheet. “Now we’re gonna spread this out on top of them. It’ll be our ceiling. With any luck, we’ll be able to sit up inside the fort without hitting anything.”
Hawke takes one end of the sheet, and Fenris grabs the other. They end up pushing the first two chairs a bit closer together, and then they spread the sheet out and drape it across the chairs, making sure that it covers each one almost completely so that it’s less likely to fall. Then Hawke grabs a few random books that were lying around the house and puts one on each seat to hold the sheet down.
The next thing they do is spread out some blankets underneath the “ceiling.” (Evidently, they did not learn from their mistakes and once again forgot to do this first.) Then Hawke props the couch cushions up against the chairs to create something resembling walls. He leaves the area between the first two chairs open and tosses some of their extra pillows into the fort.
“Pillow fort, round two!” he proclaims. “Let’s see how this one feels.”
It already looks a lot better (and bigger) than their first one did. Hawke crawls into the fort, and Fenris follows suit, pleasantly surprised to find that they’re not squished right up next to each other. He’s also pleasantly surprised to find that, just as Hawke hoped, they’re both able to sit up without hitting or bumping into anything.
“Well?” Hawke says expectantly, lightning illuminating his face for a brief moment. “How is it?”
Fenris is suddenly aware of Hawke’s eyes on him. “It’s much better,” he says truthfully. “I like it. Why?”
Hawke shrugs. “Well, I know you never really got to do these sorts of things,” he says slowly. “So I wanted your first pillow fort-building experience to be perfect. Which isn’t hard to do when I’m involved, but...” He laughs a little, but behind the joke, it’s clear he genuinely wanted to make Fenris happy with this whole affair.
Fenris smiles and leans forward, planting a kiss on Hawke’s cheek. “It was perfect,” he says quietly, and he means it with everything in him. “Thank you, Hawke.”
Hawke opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by a yawn. “It’s getting late,” he comments. “We could sleep in here tonight. Y’know, if you want.”
“Of course,” Fenris agrees. Already he can feel his eyelids growing heavy.
So they sleep on the living room floor, two blankets underneath them and two on top, surrounded by pillows and the sound of the pounding rain and rumbling thunder. Fenris rests his head against Hawke’s chest and wraps an arm around him, holding him close.
“I could stay like this forever,” Hawke breathes as he drifts off.
Fenris lifts his head up and kisses him softly on the lips. “So could I, Hawke,” he whispers. “So could I.”