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Fenris doesn’t get drunk, his tolerance for alcohol rivaled Varric’s, but sometimes Hawke couldn’t stop himself from worrying. Hawke himself wasn’t a stranger to downing a bottle or three but Fenris took to it a bit more seriously. So once in a while, Hawke did what any concerned partner would do.
He hid all the spirits and liquors in Fenris’s mansion, even the ones the elf stashed away because it certainly wasn’t the first time he’s done this (an odd moment of genuine fear and maybe arousal when he did hid them the first time) into a locked chest. Then he’d head back to the estate and do the same with his own collection, including the ones Fenris liked to stash away too.
(While Fenris still stayed in that deteriorating mansion, he’d become used to spending days at a time in Hawke’s estate before returning back to his mansion. It was Aveline’s hope that Fenris would eventually just settle in with Hawke, for Fenris’s own sake and the patrols that conveniently avoided the mansion.)
When all was done and locked away, Hawke went about his day as normal. It wouldn’t be a quick thing, Fenris didn’t seek out a bottle for no reason, but he would surely notice within a day or two as he usually did. However, when Fenris didn’t look for him to accuse him of treachery, Hawke merely figured he must have missed a stash. The days passed and Hawke forgot about the locked liquors until one night…
As soon as Hawke reached his room, he stripped of his armor and clothing, down to his underclothes as he threw himself on his bed. He groaned in relief, body aching from having helped Aveline with slavers and thieves that had holed up in a cave near the Wounded Coast. It ended up being an ambush and what was supposed to be a relatively easy task ended up being long and drawn, ending with a chase and one last stand at the Bone Pit.
“I’ve missed this bed so much,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillows he buried his head against. He heard the soft footsteps of Fenris and the clink and rustle of his armor being taken off. He expected the elf to join him but instead felt his presence beside the bed.
“Hawke,” was all he said. The man rolled to his side, gazing up at Fenris, eyes following the Lyrium tattoo over his stomach and chest.
And Hawke really couldn’t help himself (his mouth spoke quicker than his mind sometimes) as he said, “Come here often?”
The corner of Fenris’s lips lifted before he schooled his features, scowling again. “You keep locking up my liquors.”
Hawke had to think for a second, wondering why he’d brought that up when he realized he’d forgotten to unlock them. “I figured it was time to run a healthy living environment.”
This time Fenris chuckled, “Funny how you attempt that so often with my liquors as well.”
Hawke propped himself up, sitting against the headboard of the bed. “I would enlist Varric if it weren’t an impossible task. Besides, I’d forgotten I locked them up. When you didn’t come at me with your puppy eyes, I figured I must have missed a few bottles somewhere.”
Fenris stuttered, whatever words he want to say choked back as he looked at Hawke, “I do not look at you with puppy eyes. Nor do I demand things of you with them.”
Hawke grinned, “I can personally attest against that. Merrill can back me up.”
Fenris sighed, this was a conversation he clearly had no way of winning. Especially with that grin on Hawke’s face. So he moved on to what he actually wanted to say before Hawke spoke again. “You don’t need to hide my liquors. Your worries are baseless.”
“I know they are,” Hawke said. “It won’t stop me from worrying though. I’ll go unlock them.” He made to move, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed but Fenris stopped him from standing. He looked up as Fenris and waited as Fenris searched for his words.
“You locking them up is not a problem,” He started. “While I enjoy drinking and playing diamondback at the Hanged Man with Varric and Isabela, I like coming here for a quiet drink at home. And that’s-”
At this point Hawke stopped listening, staring at Fenris as he continued to talk. Fenris tailed off when he noticed the intense stare from Hawke’s honey eyes, and there was that smile, impossibly charming and a bit goofy. Then he was suddenly pulled onto Hawke’s lap, being kissed as if Fenris had come home from a long journey.
“H-Hawke, wait, I-”
“’Quiet drink at home’?” Hawke repeated, joy sweetening his words. Fenris paused, having realized what he’d said. How casually it slipped from his lips.
At what Hawke had repeated.
He watched as Hawke took his arm, the one with Hawke’s favor, and kissed his wrist. Hawke’s happiness was contagious.
“To clarify, I don’t mean this estate,” He said, draping his arms around Hawke’s shoulder. “My home… is where you are at.”
Hawke smiled, pulling Fenris closer by the waist, head pressed against the elf’s neck, kissing the skin. Fenris chuckled, fingers running through his hair. He gently pulled back Hawke’s head so he could look at the man. “If it’s alright, I think I want to move out of the mansion. Can I-”
“You don’t even have to ask me, Fenris,” Hawke interrupted. “But, if you need any more incentive, don’t forget about Dog.”
Somewhere outside the bedroom, Dog happily barked. They both looked out the door, seeing the hound pace about in front of the door before settling back down on the floor. They returned their gaze to each other, smiles on their lips, as Fenris spoke, “Oh, when you put it that way.”
“Tempting, isn’t it.” Hawke said. “But, I believe this occasion calls for a drink and the liberation of all the liquor bottles.”