#buglite

shhh they're sleep

Oh my god…what if we take our cookies into the forest and have a forest picnic and then I can give YOU leaves too <3

Thank you, hun :D Ik you don't know them but I am on a huge Fenris & Hawke kick as you do know! So read if you wish but I shall not be upset if not! I got to write it which is the fun bit!

Read on AO3 too!

It’s a testament to just how attuned he is to Fenris that he doesn’t sit up from his slouch over the table in a battle-ready panic when a hand runs through his hair. No gauntlets today, just the sparking scrape of nails against his scalp. Hawke, eyes still closed, hangover headache making itself known, turns his head on his arms.

“Goodmorning,” Fenris says quietly, tugging out a cot.

Hawke’s pouts but struggles to keep it up when Fenris huffs a laugh. He grumbles his own greeting, tongue heavy and mouth tasting foul. Fenris’ fingers leave and Hawke fusses, twisting on his chair to give blind chase.

“If you want to avoid the masses in Hightown whispering about the state of you for the next week, I’d recommend coming home with me before they crawl out of their hovels.”

He groans loudly, too tired to be bothered with forming words. Footsteps move away. There’s the sound of rummaging on one of Varric’s shelves and then Fenris’ return.

“Drink this.”

He sits up, squeezing his eyes tighter closed against the candle that has been lit on the table. Fenris sighs, the kind that is always accompanied by the quirk of a smile, and takes Hawke’s wrist in hand, directing searching fingers to the bottle of hangover cure that Varric has on order from Anders for this exact situation. Hawke tips it back in one, catching Fenris’ hand before he can disappear again, tangling their fingers together. He tugs lightly and feels Fenris lean down to meet him.

“What is it, Haw-- Mhm,” Fenris hums into the kiss, nipping at Hawke’s bottom lip in revenge for cutting him off.

Hawke grins helplessly. This man. This wonderful, wonderful man. He is everything. He is the whole world. The best of it all.

“If you keep smiling,” Fenris mutters against Hawke’s mouth, “then you cannot keep kissing me like you so clearly wanted.”

“Can’t I have both?” Hawke asks, voice scratchy and deeper than normal.

Fenris shifts, using the height he currently has over Hawke to catch him up in a deeper kiss than before. Hawke whines when he moves away again, this time opening his eyes at last.

“You need sleep.”

“But that’s so far. Can’t I just keep sleeping here? You could join me?” He waggles his eyebrows playfully in the face of Fenris’ consternation.

“I am not sleeping on a table, Hawke. Come home.”

“Well, as you asked so nicely.”

***

Hawke wakes a second time that day to Biscuit barking. He holds still for a moment, straining to make out voices downstairs. Orana is easy to tell from her cadence. The other woman is not. He tries to roll over but is hindered dramatically by Fenris’ strong grip around his stomach. The elf butts his head up against Hawke’s chin in reproach.