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Hawke really did know he went too far, sometimes. He just didn’t understand why they got upset. No one ever explained it to him! They just gave him a dirty look, maybe a “Really, Hawke?” or a “Not now, Hawke”. But never an explanation as to why he shouldn’t say what was on his mind.
For example.
Hawke entered Aveline’s office, wanting to ask her to come with him on a job to the Wounded Coast. He found her sitting at her desk, staring wistfully at her husband’s old, beat up shield. She was stroking it, her gauntlets making a slight scraping noise as they glided gently along the surface.
“You still have that?” Hawke asked, shaking his head.
“Yes, ever since that day you tried to sell it,” Aveline glared at him, “I’ve kept it with me.”
“I don’t even think anyone would be willing to buy a piece of junk like that,” Hawke tilted his head, “It probably couldn’t block an attack from a butter knife.”
“What do you want, Hawke? Did you come here just to antagonize me?” Aveline asked, frowning at Hawke.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to come to the Wounded Coast. But, uh, right now.”
“Not today, Hawke,” Aveline sighed, “It’s the anniversary of Wesley’s death.”
“Are you still on about that?” Hawke asked, knowing by the look on Aveline’s face he had gone too far again but unable to stop talking, “It’s been years, Aveline.”
“And what about you?” Aveline said hotly, her voice full of anger. She stood from her seat and approached Hawke meaningfully.
“What about me?” Hawke asked, “I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”
“Did you even grieve for Bethany? Or Carver, for that matter?” Aveline asked sharply, jabbing a finger into Hawke’s chest.
Hawke cocked his head at the question. Of course he did. Bethany was his favorite. He had been so, so sad. Carver had been an asshole, but he was still his brother and it had been partially Hawke’s fault he died. If she had been there when he died, she would have known Hawke grieved for him. But it had been years. It was time to move on.
“Yes?” Hawke furrowed his brow. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop the words forming in his head from being spoken if Aveline didn’t let this go.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Aveline said, still glaring up at him.
“What, because I don’t whine about it all the time? Not all of us are such drama queens, Aveline.”
He should have expected the punch, really, but those gauntlets. They were not kind to him.
Aveline didn’t speak to him for almost a month after that. He refused to apologize and so did she. Not until Varric had a conversation with her and somehow convinced her to speak to him again.
And he was having one such conversation, now.
“Maker, that’s all you go on about, huh?” Hawke said in exasperation as Anders went on another rant about mage freedom. Anders paused.
“What?”
“Mage this, mage that, it gets so old so quickly,” Hawke complained.
“I agree,” Fenris chimed in from a little behind them.
Hawke had set out to the Bone Pit with Anders, Fenris, and Varric. He was starting to regret bringing Anders, though, and things were crazy awkward between him and Fenris at the moment. Or, well, things should have been, but both Fenris and Hawke were pretending nothing happened. Both of them knew Hawke would snap someday and say something, though.
In truth, Anders had been talking the. whole. time. It began to piss Hawke off around the 20 minute mark, but over an hour had passed and Anders hadn’t stopped talking. Hawke thought his right ear may have permanent damage.
“You’re a mage!” Anders was clearly outraged by such a small comment, “How can you not care about your own people!”
“It’s not that I don’t care, Anders, but every conversation with you always goes to mages again. Don’t you have anything new to talk about? A nice book you read, maybe?” Hawke asked hopefully.
“It does not!” Anders protested, “And even if it does, it’s for good reason!”
“Oh, please, tell me all about it, again,” Hawke said viciously.
“Okay, okay, I think we all need to cool down,” Varric intervened, pushing himself between the two. Hawke stuck his tongue out at Anders, who made a noise of frustration.
“You two, don’t talk to each other for the rest of the hike. What am I, your dad?” Varric shook his head and forced Hawke to walk next to Fenris.
“Oh, thank the Maker, he’s not allowed to talk to me anymore,” Hawke sighed in relief, making sure his voice was loud enough that Anders could hear. Evidently he was successful, as Anders turned around and shot a glare in his direction. Varric shot him a warning glare, as well.
Hawke didn’t always fight with Anders. Actually, he didn’t always fight with anyone. But he was in a bad mood today. Anders’ constant blabbering, which Hawke decided to tune out, was bad enough, but Anders looking over at Hawke every few sentences as if asking for his input? Hawke couldn’t explain it, but it drove him mad.
“At least he’ll shut up now,” Fenris mused from beside him.
“Oh, don’t try me, mister dine n’ dash,” Hawke warned, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
If Fenris was at all bothered by Hawke’s comment, he didn’t show it. Hawke wasn’t sure if that pissed him off or not. Fenris was actually the one who yelled at Hawke the least, but Fenris also happened to be the one Hawke went after the least. Well, aside from Varric.
Sometimes Hawke wondered if Fenris avoided him for so long after leaving that night because he was afraid Hawke would say something that would ruin their relationship. Hawke himself was afraid he might say something too hurtful to Fenris, lose him forever. It had happened before, back when he was young and hadn’t learned to contain himself around his favorites.
“We’re here,” Varric called from where he was walking, a few feet ahead of them with Anders, “Maker, it smells horrible!”
It did indeed smell horrible. Like burnt flesh. Hawke wrinkled his nose.
“Another dragon?” Hawke couldn’t stop himself from grinning, “Finally something fun!”
Hawke saw the corner of Fenris’s mouth quirk up the same moment the corner of Anders’s mouth quirked down. He must still be mad, then. Personally, all the time he spent walking quietly next to Fenris had brightened Hawke’s mood.
“And what of the people killed?” Anders asked. Interesting, Anders didn’t usually ask him things like that. He must be really mad.
“What of them?” Hawke cocked his head, full of the urge to make Anders even more mad just for the sake of it, “They’ve been burnt to a crisp, what do you want me to do about it? Learn blood magic and bring them back?”
“And you don’t care at all? All these lives, lost, and you don’t care?” Anders’ eyes narrowed. Hawke frowned.
“Anders, of course it’s sad that they died, blah blah blah. It’s done, though? I’m no necromancer, that’s gross. Let’s go kill that dragon!”
Anders shook his head, but he followed Hawke anyways. Hawke didn’t know what Anders had expected, really. He was only being realistic.
They followed the smell of fire and burnt flesh to a wide open clearing. This looks like the right place, Hawke mused to himself as he took in the space. Right on time, a dragon dropped into the clearing. A high dragon.
“Hell yes!” Hawke pumped his fists, and even Fenris seemed a little excited. Hawke was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. He loved dragons. Varric looked apprehensive, to say the least. Anders looked downright unenthusiastic.
The fight was long and hard. Fenris and Hawke stuck to fighting the high dragon, while Anders and Varric picked off the small ones as they came. Fenris got injured a few times, but his wounds were quickly healed by Anders. There was one time he narrowly avoided the dragon’s teeth, which would have surely killed him.
Finally, Fenris delivered the killing blow and it fell with aloud thud. Hawke had to dodge to the side to avoid getting crushed by its corpse. He let out a whoop before approaching the dragon and taking everything it had on it.
“This is so cool,” Hawke sighed in joy as he lovingly caressed the souvenirs he took from the dragon.
“It’s almost creepy how much you liked that,” Varric commented, humor in his voice. Hawke ignored him.
Now that Hawke was in a good mood, he felt like now was a good time to try talking to Anders. Well, as good a time as any. He didn’t feel like fighting with Anders anymore.
“Anders,” He called, and Anders begrudgingly got closer to him, “Sorry I went too far, earlier, you just wouldn’t stop talking. Made me a little mad.”
“It’s fine, I guess,” Anders grumbled and looked away, “At least you apologized this time. But try not to be such an asshole! I swear, Hawke, I won’t keep letting this slide!”
He totally would.
Hawke didn’t always argue and fight with people. In fact, his lack of a filter could be a good thing, at times.
Another example.
Hawke was carding his fingers through Fenris’s hair, humming contentedly. They were laying on the floor, reading a book. Both Hawke and Fenris were laying on their stomachs, Hawke’s feet kicking in the air while Fenris’s remained still.
“Fenris,” Hawke said, still carding his hand through his hair.
“Hmm,” Fenris rumbled in response, attempting to focus on the book. The fireplace behind them crackled, its warmth coupled with Hawke’s current position making him sleepy. And with sleepyness, came the looseness of the tongue.
“You know, Fenris,” Hawke braced his head in his other hand, “I’ve always loved your voice. From the first moment I met you.”
“Really,” Fenris asked, looking away from the book and giving Hawke an amused smile. Hawke grinned back.
“Really!” Hawke insisted, “I feel like your voice alone could make me weak at the knees.”
“Have you been drinking, Hawke?” Fenris asked with an amused chuckle, reaching his fingers out to feel Hawke’s forehead. Hawke leaned into the touch.
“No,” Hawke sounded extremely offended, “What, I’m not allowed to find you attractive?”
“No,” Fenris seemed a little suprised. Hawke couldn’t imagine why. “You are.”
Hawke just chuckled and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Fenris’s lips before pulling back.
“You’re cute,” Hawke commented, grinning sleepily.
Fenris stared at him for a second, before grabbing the back of Hawke’s head and pulling him in for another kiss. Unlike the first one, this kiss quickly became rough and passionate, Fenris keeping a hand fisted in Hawke’s hair.
Hawke had to brace both hands on the floor to keep from falling over. This was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Fenris hardly ever initiated. He took control quickly, but he preferred to let Hawke initiate anything.
Fenris pulled back, leaving Hawke gasping while he pushed himself up onto his knees. Hawke barely had enough time to get up with him before Fenris’s mouth was on his again. Hawke was pushed back down onto the floor, his head nearly bonking onto the hard wood floor in Fenris’s haste.
Fenris’s lips moved from Hawke’s mouth to kiss his nose, cheek, and finally, his neck. What had started out as a startled lough became a quick intake of breath. At this rate, Fenris was going to leave a mark.
“Slow down, Fenris,” Hawke pushed at Fenris’s head until he moved, “You’ll leave a mark.”
“And?” Fenris asked, his pupils blown wide. Hawke glanced down at where their hands were intertwined.
“Well, personally I don’t feel like explaining to my mother where it came from, do you?” Hawke asked pointedly, giving Fenris’s hand a squeeze. That got him to back off.
Hawke leaned in and pressed another kiss to Fenris’s nose before they both returned to the book.
They spent the night together a week later. That was the night Fenris left.
Plus, two weeks later his mother died anyways.
Hawke glanced over at Fenris after recalling that old memory. It had been three years. Surely Fenris was ready to talk about it by now? Hawke had left him alone because he didn’t want to risk scaring him off, but three years? Come on.
As they were walking back, Hawke quickly became tired. He also thought making camp would be a good opportunity to get Fenris alone.
“Varric, I want to set up camp,” Hawke said, in his best whiny voice.
“But Hawke,” Varric protested, “We’re halfway there. We could be back home within the next few hours and sleep on a real bed.”
“Speak for yourself,” Anders commented.
“But Varric,” Hawke whined, “I’m tired. If I die of exhaustion, it’s your fault. You guys heard, right?”
Anders and Fenris nodded. Hawke couldn’t help but grin at them going along with it. Varric huffed out a breath.
“Fine,” he relented.
Hawke spent the next couple minutes creating his plan of attack. Confront Fenris, make up with him, make out a lot. ‘Don’t be such an asshole’, as Anders put it.
Of course it didn’t work out like that.
It must have been because Hawke was still riding the high from killing a high dragon, but he was too optimistic.
He had succeeded in getting Fenris alone. He had volunteered to gather firewood, and so had Fenris. He thought it might be a sign, maybe he was meant to confront Fenris today.
After a few minutes of collecting firewood together, Hawke spoke up.
“Fenris,” Hawke called. Fenris startled a little, obviously not expecting any conversation.
“Yes?” Fenris asked warily, as if he could sense where this was going.
“You know, it’s been three years. We never talked about it,” Hawke said, a light tone in his voice but in reality he was starting to get nervous.
“Hawke, I don’t-“ Fenris started.
“Don’t what, Fenris? Don’t want to talk about it? It’s been three years, you still don’t want to talk about it?” Hawke asked, pursing his lips.
“It’s not that simple,” Fenris said, eyes darting around as though he was ready to bolt at any second.
“Fenris, I get it if you need time but hasn’t it been long enough?” Hawke sighed, “At this point you either want to get back together or you don’t. I’ve taken less time to decide whether someone should live or die.”
Fenris was still looking for somewhere to bolt. Hawke was beginning to get pissed again. Pissed and a little scared. It made him defensive.
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t have even bothered when it’s so obvious,” Hawke scoffed, “I mean, aren’t I the one who was stupid enough to wait for years for someone who obviously doesn’t want me?”
“Hawke, let me explain-“ Fenris began, but Hawke wouldn’t let him.
“No, let me explain. Basically, I give you more than enough time to come seek me out because I wanted you to be able to take the first step. But you’ve always been sort of shy about that, shy widdle Fenris. It’s kinda cute so it’s okay. So, after three years I decide to take the first step. And you still won’t answer me! I’m not waiting for you forever, Fenris.”
Hawke really had wanted to say something funny, maybe ease the tension (or make it worse). But he couldn’t bring himself to. Wait, why did he think this was a good idea? This was a horrible idea. And now he was stuck here.
“I didn’t want to leave,” Fenris said quickly, “Well, I did at the time, but I regretted it immediately.”
“You regretted it so much that you waited until I confronted you to tell me?” Hawke crossed his arms.
“I thought the wound might be too fresh, then you never brought it up and I...”
“Right, because I’m so scary that you didn’t want to bring it up first,” Hawke accused. Fenris gave him a look.
“You are scary, sometimes,” He said truthfully, “You can be so cruel sometimes. But never to me. I couldn’t help but wonder. Were you thinking insults and jokes, but you never said them out loud in fear of offending me? Or do you really not have anything to say about me?”
“I could,” Hawke felt like he was going to regret what he said next, “You whine and cry about being oppressed and then you turn around and do the same thing to mages. You told me ‘magic destroys everything it touches’, what about me then? What do I do? And don’t start telling me I’m different from other mages because I’m not. Anders and I wore the same robes once. Worst day of my life, and my entire family is dead, so that should tell you how bad it was.”
Fenris tried to say something, but Hawke was on fire.
“Anders is irritating as hell but he’s got a point sometimes! And so do you! But you two are so far into your own asses you won’t listen to anything anyone else has to say. Also, you need to clean those corpses out of your house, I’m not doing it for you no matter how long you leave them there. Your corpses, your responsibility.”
Hawke stopped talking before he could say anything else, something cruel and hurtful and unfair. Should he stomp off? He felt like he should stomp off.
“Hawke, you know I didn’t mean it that way,” Fenris frowned. Oh, so now Fenris was getting mad? Good. That would make this easier. It was easy to turn serious conversations gone wrong into arguments if you were good enough at pissing people off.
“How did you mean it, Fenris? Seemed pretty clear to me.”
“It wasn’t about you, you know that,” Fenris was getting more and more frustrated at Hawke’s clear intent to misinterpret anything he said.
“Since when do you know what I know?” Hawke shook his head, “Not a good one, actually. But, you know. Could have just told me.”
“I didn’t know it was an issue,” Fenris said through gritted teeth. Oh, Hawke was going to regret his next words, he knew before he even said them.
“Right, because everyone has to watch what they say about mages around you, but you can say whatever you want and since you were a slave that makes it okay. I forgot.”
“What?” Fenris exclaimed, looking incredulous.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Hawke asked with a mocking expression he usually reserved for people he didn’t know, “Being an ex-slave gets you a free pass to say whatever you want to whoever you want and they’re not allowed to be mad about it because your feelings are more important than theirs - Maker forbid they’re a mage, how dare they! Shouldn’t they just kill themselves as soon as they find out-“
The sound of a branch cracking made them both jump. They both swiveled toward the noise, pointing their weapons at the offender. Anders raised his hands in surrender, his eyes wide.
“Varric sent me to check on you two,” Anders explained, eyes darting between the two, “I heard shouting.”
Hawke took in a deep breath, pointedly refusing to look at Fenris.
“It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “Already started missing me, did he? I was only gone for a few minutes, how sweet of him.”
Hawke knew he went to far. He knew he said unfair things, he knew he said hurtful things. But, he was tired of Fenris talking about how much he hated mages when Hawke was right there, and Fenris did ask. So. It also just happened to be an easy way to steer the conversation off topic.
Hawke and Fenris didn’t speak on their way back. They barely spoke over the next month, Hawke opting to bring Aveline when he needed a warrior.
That was, until today.
Hawke heard a loud knocking on his door. He wanted so badly to ignore it, catch a few more minutes of sleep. He snuggled into his blankets as though that would stop Bodahn from yelling up at him.
It didn’t.
“Messere Hawke?” Bodahn called, “Your elf friend is at the door, do you want me to let him in?”
Elf friend? Him? What was Fenris doing here?
“Go ahead,” Hawke called down. He quickly got up and got dressed before going down the stairs to greet Fenris.
Fenris looked upset, to say the least. Even in Hawke’s foyer, he was pacing. He startled a little when Hawke entered his periphery.
“Hawke,” Fenris looked like he regretted coming here.
“What could be so important that you would come knocking at my door in the ass-crack of the morning after avoiding me for weeks?” Hawke yawned and stretched. Fenris frowned.
“I could argue over who was avoiding who, but I don’t have the time,” Fenris started pacing again, “It’s my sister.”
____
Hawke couldn’t help but wonder, sometimes, how he got himself into these situations.
He couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter when Danarius asked him to return Fenris to him.
“Why in the name of Andraste would I do that?” Hawke managed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “You’re the worst man I’ve ever met, and your taste in robes is so last year, why would I ever hand Fenris over to someone like you?”
Danarius’s eyes narrowed, but before he could retort Fenris sprung into action with a roar. Hawke brought out his staff, too, still wiping tears from his eyes while summoning a circle of lighting around his foes. Despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken in weeks, and as a result hadn’t fought together in weeks, Fenris and Hawke still fought in perfect harmony, as though they were made for each other.
Hawke stayed towards the back of the Hanged Man, raining down lighting on their foes while Fenris worked his way through them, fast and deadly. Varric and Isabela joined in on the fight, Varric hanging back like Hawke and Isabela leaping into the fray.
Pretty soon, though, Hawke and Varric were overrun. Fenris and Isabela were doing their best, but they themselves had quite a few enemies to deal with. And there, standing at the top of the stairs, was Danarius, grinning through it all. It made Hawke’s blood boil, and he couldn’t imagine how it must have made Fenris feel.
He should change that.
Mustering up all of his strength, Hawke created a large lightening storm, picking off the weaklings quickly. Using his staff as a melee weapon as he was still being overrun, he jabbed the end into an attacker’s stomach, then another. It seemed like without the small fry to slow them down, Fenris and Isabela were quick to take down stronger enemies.
Hawke felt rather than saw the assassin behind him. The knifes slammed into his back, causing him to make a small gurgling noise. The attack went unnoticed by his companions, who were busy fighting their own battles. All the better, then.
Usually, when Hawke had a small injury, he liked to whine and complain about it over and over again. With serious injuries, though... well, Hawke didn’t like to be serious.
He chugged a health potion, one of his last ones. He felt the majority of the wound close, but it was still sluggishly bleeding down his back. Whatever. There were more important things to do.
Turning to face the assassin who was right behind him, Hawke tried to slam the sharp end of his staff into his attacker’s gut like he had done before. This one was quick, though. It was times like these Hawke wished he knew how to cast glyphs. Or had Anders to do it for him.
Casting a mind blast, Hawke stumbled backwards to narrowly avoid getting his throat sliced. Honestly, this guy wasn’t even who Hawke wanted to kill. Glancing behind him, Hawke saw Fenris charge Danarius. Probably more poetic that way, anyways.
Thankfully, since Fenris was free that meant Isabela was, too. She joined him in attacking the assassin and with her speed and skill, they were able to take the man down. At the same time, they heard Danarius curse and fall. Fenris delivered the final blow.
And then, Fenris tried to kill his sister.
“Fenris, do you really want to kill your sister?” Hawke asked, surprised that Fenris would even think of such a thing.
“Yes,” Fenris snarled, looking her in the eyes.
“I don’t think you do. Take it from me, Fenris. My siblings are dead. Do you want to end up like me? Living sad and alone in a mansion by myself? Oh, wait, you already do that. Never mind,” Hawke waved the idea off.
Was the room spinning? Hawke felt like the room was spinning. Did Danarius cast some sort of room spinning spell?
Hawke didn’t hear much of what happened next, but he thought Varric was able to talk Fenris out of killing his sister. Good. But the more they kept talking, the blurrier the room was. That shouldn’t be happening.
“There’s no way that blade was poisoned, is there?” Hawke murmured to himself, nearly inaudible. Only Isabela, who was standing right next to him, heard.
“What? Poison?” She asked, placing a hand on Hawke’s back. Hawke winced.
Isabela’s hand came away red. Her eyes widened, and she turned to tell the others, or something. Hawke didn’t really know, he passed out soon after. But he liked to think she was concerned for him. How sweet.
____
Waking up wasn’t painful, per se, but it was extremely uncomfortable.
For some reason his friends hadn’t considered taking off his bloody robes, so now his robe was sticking to his back. Nasty.
Well, at least he assumed his friends had panicked, rushed him to the medic, and worried over his bedside while he was asleep. A quick glance to his left confirmed that yes, Fenris was at his side, sleeping, though. A shame.
Then, Hawke remembered their fight the other day. But Fenris came to him for help with his sister, so were they still fighting?
Although thinking about it, it may have been more of a one-sided Hawke talking and making himself upset scenario than anything. He did that sometimes. Whoops.
Hawke looked over at Fenris again, who was resting peacefully. His head lay in his crossed arms, his face an eternal scowl. His white hair was shining in the moonlight streaming in from the window, and Hawke resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hair. Instead, he carefully got up and removed his robe, heading to the bathroom to wash off the blood. He did suppose Anders hadn’t been there.
Hawke really did wonder, sometimes, what it was Fenris ever saw in him. He wasn’t exactly a nice person, he wasn’t even particularly handsome. Not to mention moody. Sure, he was rich now, richer with every passing day as he took on miscellaneous jobs, but was that all?
Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, he returned to his room to find Fenris sitting upright, staring at the drying blood on the bed.
“Fenris,” Hawke greeted, “Close call, huh? Anything fun happen after I was out?”
Fenris didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at Hawke, face blank.
“You’re awake,” he rumbled finally, his voice still thick from sleep. If Hawke was being honest, it was kinda hot.
“Are you still half asleep?” Hawke asked, cocking his head to the side. Fenris’s hair was a mess now that he was looking at it, pieces sticking up all over the place. “Cute.”
Fenris looked confused for a second, so Hawke helpfully gestured to his hair. Fenris’s cheeks were tinted red as he smoothed down his hair.
“Nothing important happened,” Fenris finally answered his question from before, “But, Hawke, you need to be more careful. Why didn’t you drink another healing potion?”
Fenris looked upset, pursing his lips. Again, cute.
“Honestly, Fenris, the thought didn’t come to mind,” Hawke answered, “I was too busy making sure you didn’t kill your sister.”
Hawke couldn’t tell what kind of expression Fenris was making now.
“You...” Fenris looked away, as though he didn’t really want to be saying this, “You frightened me, back there. I thought maybe Danarius had...”
Hawke was surprised at the honesty. And a little touched.
“Aw, Fenris, you were worried?” Hawke grinned and clutched at his heart, “How sweet, I’m swooning! Want to get married right now?”
“Not at the moment, no,” Fenris answered, finally smiling. Hawke grinned and sat down, patting the bed next to him.
“Listen, Fenris, about the other day, I know I may have been a little unfair towards you. I know you’ve been through a lot and everything so I know why you act the way you do, I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Hawke rambled. He felt like he had more to say, but then Fenris started speaking.
“I was thinking, afterwards,” Fenris said, scooting a little closer to Hawke, “You know, you aren’t entirely wrong. I... can he a bit cruel, sometimes. I guess we have that in common.”
“I guess,” Hawke laughed a little, “It’s okay, though, I don’t usually take it to heart. It’s Anders you have to worry about.”
Did this mean they weren’t fighting anymore? Judging by the way Fenris was still scooting closer to him, only stopping when their thighs were flush, it did.
“So...” Hawke rocked forward, “Does that mean we aren’t fighting anymore?”
“If you want it to,” Fenris said, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. Hawke grinned again and brushed a lock of hair behind Fenris’s ear, almost instinctively. He nearly jerked his hand away, but Fenris leaned into his touch.
“Uh,” it wasn’t often Hawke was at a loss for words, “So. Did you want to try getting back together? You know, we don’t have to have sex. I don’t really care. I just. I missed you, you know.”
“And I missed you,” Fenris confessed, “It is a tempting offer.”
Hawke and Fenris sat in silence as Fenris mulled over it. Nervously, Hawke was still rocking back and forth, lightly. Fenris’s hand on his caused him to still.
“I would like to try again with you, if you still want to,” Fenris wasn’t looking Hawke in the eye, instead down at their joined hands, “We will have to take it slowly.”
“Well, duh, we don’t need another love ‘em and leave ‘em scenario, do we,” Hawke leaned his weight onto Fenris’s shoulder, nuzzling into his soft hair and sighing. He missed that smell.
“No,” Fenris answered with amusement, playing with Hawke’s fingers contentedly, “I suppose we don’t.”