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"Just what we need in this place! First the mages and now a tatted-up knife-ear!"
Hawke whipped his gaze on the man who had just spoken; there was only one elf with markings that had walked by and that was the elf that currently was stood shoulder to shoulder at his side. He didn't check Fenris's reaction, but it didn't matter either way, no one was talking to his love like that, he would lay into them, Inquisition or not.
As it turned out, he didn't need to.
Because a chorus of voices rang out to drown out his own protest, a series of "hey!"s and "excuse me?"s and "watch your tongue!"s.
"Your Inquisitor is also an elf, lest you forget," Cassandra said. Her tone was like ice, as was the look on her face.
"An elf and a mage," Dorian said, fingers seizing into his palms. He appeared calm and still there was murder in his eyes. "Do you truly want to play this game?"
"If you have a problem with our Inquisitor, you have a problem with our Inquisition," Cullen said, hand on the hilt of his sword. "This man is an esteemed guest of aforementioned Inquisitor, and you will treat him as such. Do we need to discuss this further?"
"N-No, Commander Cullen! I didn't mean- it was only a jest, Commander," the man stammered, evidently surprised to see several of the Inquisitor's personal companions ooze out from the woodwork.
Hawke was, too, to be honest. He had been talking to Varric, Fenris studiously by his side, and now? They were surrounded by half of the Inquisition itself. Surrounded by half of the Inquisition, standing up for elves, standing up for a rude comment made to Fenris.
He glanced sideways at Fenris. The elf was regarding the group with a neutral expression - neutral to anyone but someone who knew him. But those green eyes were slightly widened, lips turned down at the corners, contemplative.
"Your taste of a joke is very poor, my dear," Vivienne said idly.
"One day, someone's gonna pull a joke on you, yeah?" Sera said, leaning into the man's face. "One day you're gonna wake up and- bam!" The man flinched. "No breeches!" Sera continued. "Or worse!"
"Got a problem out here?" Iron Bull ducked his head out of the tavern, looking at the group gathered.
Hawke might have grinned when the offensive, nasty little man flinched a step away as the Qunari moved into view.
"Nothing the Inquisition's guard dogs can't handle, Tiny," Varric said with a little sly smile. He'd say something to Fenris about all of the fuss as soon as they were out of earshot, Hawke was certain of it.
"All under control," Hawke said, stepping in. He had to say something himself, too, even if their new friends had suddenly jumped to their (and their Inquisitor's) defense. "We don't have a problem. Right?" And he snaked his arm around Fenris's waist, dragging him close. Fenris staggered against his side with a soft huff, and did not pull away.
"Of course not, serah! I did not intend to offend!" The man sunk into a bow, now directed to Fenris. "I apologize."
Fenris dismissed him with a flick of his fingers. "Go."
The man went, and so did the rest of the group, with only a few farewells and it was nice to see yous, vanishing back to wherever they had materialized from.
"Well, Broody." And there was Varric's comment. "You've got the Inquisition eating out of your hand. How's that feel?"
Fenris shifted against Hawke's side, as Hawke hadn't let him go. "They aren't eating out of my hand. They are standing up for their leader. That is all."
"You didn't see that man insulting the Inquisitor when they all pounced, though. He was insulting you."
"I'm not sure that qualifies as an insult," Fenris remarked.
"Well, I wouldn't have let them off if they'd said it if it had been just me and you, either," Hawke said.
"Yes, but you're sensitive," Fenris muttered.
Hawke kissed the top of his head. "Yeah, so are you."
Fenris shook his head like a wet dog. "I am not."
Hawke grinned.
"Hawke."
"Love you!" Hawke chimed.
Fenris rolled his eyes.
"What a happily married couple. I'll need details on the wedding, make sure I get it right in my next book," Varric said, a little dryly. He was smiling.
Hawke gasped dramatically, grabbing at Fenris's hands. "We're married, Fenris?! Why didn't you tell me!"
Fenris looked like he was going to roll his eyes again, but a tiny smile plucked at his lips instead.
"Lovebirds," Varric mocked, nudging Hawke. "I'd be disgusted if I wasn't happy for you two."
"Thanks, Varric." Hawke clapped his free hand on his shoulder. "Great to have friends supporting us!"
"We should prepare for travel," Fenris interrupted. "Isn't that right?"
"We are preparing for travel, Broody, I'm taking you to see the smithy. Keep your pants on."
"Or take them off," Hawke muttered under his breath.
"My pants remain firmly on," Fenris said loudly, earning a few glances from curious on-lookers.
Hawke grinned and allowed the conversation to ebb back into tactic and warfare. Fenris didn't want to dwell on the lovey-dovey just as much as Hawke knew Fenris didn't want to dwell on the fact that part of the Inquisition - total strangers - had stood up for him. Definitely partially because of who their Inquisitor was, but Varric was right; that tit had been complaining about Fenris, and they had stood up all the same.
Fenris, who wasn't used to people standing up for him at all.
Hawke grabbed at Fenris's hand and clung onto it tightly, and smiled warmly when Fenris squeezed at his fingers and ran his thumb against the back of Hawke's hand in return.