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“That was you being jealous.”
Hawke pretended that he didn’t see Fenris tense up next to him, the way the elf’s olive eyes flickered to him and then away when he saw he was looking. Oh, he was looking. Just as much as that Antivan had been looking at him earlier. Hawke had noticed that, too. He noticed when people stared… they did it so often, right? Right? Well, Fenris did. That was enough.
A quiet, derisive sniff, and Fenris turned away fully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Zevran knew,” Hawke replied, and if the hackles could have raised any further without words, they would have. Okay, he had had his fun. “Come on, Fenris,” he said, slipping his arm around Fenris’s wrist, pulling him over. Fenris huffed, but did not pull away. “You know you’re the only one in all of Thedas for me.”
Fenris hummed without a comment. And still his body melted against Hawke’s side just ever so slightly, leaning into his touch.
“He was a flirt, though,” Hawke said. Bendy. Maker preserve us. The cast of characters that they met across Kirkwall was endlessly entertaining.
“Yes,” Fenris replied. “So are you.”
“Am I?”
“Hawke.”
He could concede; he was. He chuckled and passed his fingers against Fenris’s ribs. “Maybe. But I had to impress you somehow, right?”
Fenris turned to look at him. “Have you impressed me?” he deadpanned. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Hawke’s laughter drew the attention of more than one irritable noble in Hightown. “Maker, I love you.”
Fenris’s lips twitched into a smile, hand falling down to rest over the one of Hawke’s that had settled on his hip again. He said nothing; the motion spoke for itself. Hawke smiled softly.
“Seriously, though,” he continued, after a moment, “you can do the jealous thing a little more. It’s cute,” he said, bumping his shoulder.
“It is not.”
“Really cute.”
“It is not,” Fenris repeated.
“Adorab-mmf!” Hawke’s hand slipped from Fenris’s waist, the words muffling into incoherency as Fenris pressed in to kiss him. He raised an eyebrow in question when he pulled away.
“I had to quiet that mouth of yours somehow.” Fenris smirked, and stepped away, fingers searching for Hawke’s hand.
Hawke was all smiles and warmth. “You were jealous,” he accused gently. It barely mattered now. Zevran seemed so long ago, and he and Fenris had only just made it back to Hightown.
“Maybe,” Fenris admitted. “But I trust you.”
His smile only got larger, the warm feeling sinking into his chest. “Thank you,” he said softly, because, all the teasing aside, Fenris’s trust was by far the biggest compliment of all.