Fenris/f!Hawke: Always Smiling

A Fictober 2018 prompt fill for @cutieink! The prompt: “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

Thanks for this prompt – it’s helping me to move my Fenris series forward, which is exactly what I hoped these prompts would do! XD 

Read on AO3 instead.

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Hawke’s saunter was slow and casual as she led Fenris, Anders and Varric into the Blooming Rose. Once they reached the main room, she shifted her weight to one hip and folded her arms.

“Ah, Uncle. Always a pleasure.” Immediately she wrinkled her nose and shot Fenris a regretful grimace. “Ugh. Terrible choice of words, here especially.” She turned back to Gamlen and raised one eyebrow. “I hope you have a speech prepared to explain all this. Or better, a dramatic soliloquy in three parts! I do love a good melodrama.”  

Gamlen glared blearily up at her from the floor. “Rynne? What the hell are you doing here? I don’t want to see you!”

“You should’ve thought of that before you picked a fight with a group of angry dwarven moneylenders in the middle of Kirkwall’s finest whorehouse,” she replied smoothly. She tipped a friendly wink at Porfiria, who was passing by.

“He was shouting up a storm as well, Serrah Hawke,” Porfiria murmured. “Very unkind things indeed, about… about you, and Missus Amell…”

Fenris watched silently as Hawke continued to smile. “Ah, that’s just his way of expressing his affection,” she replied. “If he starts throwing things around, watch out: that’s when things really start getting mushy.” She bent down and reached for Gamlen’s elbow. “Now come on, Uncle, let’s get you-”

“Get off!” Gamlen snarled, jerking his arm away from Hawke’s touch. “Nobody asked you to come here! In fact, nobody asked you to come to Kirkwall at all. You should have stayed in Lothering with the bones of your good-for-nothing father. But no, you had to come here, leech off of my hospitality and then leave me alone in the dirt!”

Anders scowled. “It was either Hawke or the City Guard,” he said sternly. “Guard-Captain Aveline tipped us off that you were making a scene. You should be happy to see Hawke.”

Hawke shook her head. She was still smiling. “Don’t bother, Anders. The only part of me he’s ever happy to see is my backside when I walk out the door.” She wrinkled her nose again and elbowed Fenris. “Ugh, poor choice of words again. Somebody stop me.”

Fenris waved a careless hand toward Gamlen’s disheveled form. “Shall I?”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “So chivalrous. Yes, please, that would be helpful.”

Fenris unceremoniously hauled Gamlen to his feet, ignoring the older man’s attempts to struggle against his grip. As he marched Hawke’s uncle toward the door, he overheard Hawke making some playful crack to Madame Lusine about getting a discount the next time she visited.

He shook his head in exasperation. Always with the jokes, he thought. Even in the most dire situations, she never stopped cracking jokes.

He shoved open the brothel door and pulled Gamlen outside. “Breathe. Try to clear your head,” he said.

Gamlen twisted his arm in Fenris’s grip, then stumbled back as Fenris abruptly released him. He glared at Hawke as she strolled out of the Blooming Rose to join them. “You tell your pet elf to keep his fucking hands to himself,” he yelled.

Fenris took a deep breath, his shackles instantly rising at the slur, and Varric took a step back. “Oh shit,” he muttered.

But before Fenris could move or speak, Hawke stepped between them. Then she took two slow steps closer to her uncle. “He is not my pet,” she said. “He is nobody’s pet. Never call him that again.”

Still she was smiling, and her voice was light and friendly. But Fenris watched with vindictive satisfaction as Gamlen shrank away from her.

She slapped her uncle on the shoulder – ostensibly a friendly pat, but Gamlen jolted forward from the impact and his own inebriation. “Come on, a nice little nighttime stroll home,” she chirped. “Your stink will keep the bandits away.”

Gamlen muttered resentfully to himself during the walk back to Lowtown. Occasionally he lashed out at Hawke, spearing her with insults and pointed commentary about Carver joining the Templars and Leandra wishing Bethany was still alive. And still Hawke just smiled, deflecting her uncle’s words with flippant replies and somehow making Anders and Varric laugh despite the fug of awkwardness that hovered over the group.

Fenris followed in silence, watching carefully in case Gamlen decided to strike her with his fists instead of his tongue. He was glad that Anders and Varric were laughing, because he couldn’t bring himself to be amused.

It was enraging, in fact. Gamlen’s insults, the unfair accusations, the abuse – Fenris couldn’t understand how Hawke was still fucking smiling. By the time they bundled Gamlen back into his Lowtown hovel, Fenris’s jaw was aching from the effort of holding back his anger.

Once back on the street, Hawke sighed, then smiled at them. “All right, boys, it’s been a ball, but you should all go home,” she announced. “I know, I know, I treat you so well – dragging my drunken uncle home from the whorehouse, so much excitement! – but I don’t want to spoil you with these scintillating side trips.”

Anders frowned. “Are you sure? We could have a drink at the Hanged Man, if you like. This was…” He winced and shook his head.

“Good idea, Blondie,” Varric piped up. “Come on, Hawke, it’s on me.”

She shook her head. “Ah, no, there’s no need. Look!” She reached into the back of her trousers and pulled out a bottle with a triumphant flourish.

Fenris inspected the bottle: it was whisky. He raised one eyebrow. “You took this from Gamlen?”

She blinked up at him. “It was for a good cause,” she said innocently. “We don’t want him drinking any more, do we?” She unscrewed the cap and took a swig, then grimaced. “Tastes like paint thinner. But it’ll do the trick.” She took another gulp, then waved the bottle dismissively at them as she turned and headed back toward the street to Hightown. “Go on home, you lovely specimens. Rest your gorgeous heads. I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

“Hawke, wait-” Varric called.

“It’s all right,” Fenris interrupted. “I will make sure she gets home. We’re heading in the same direction.” He jogged after her without another word.

She blinked in surprise as he caught up to her, then affably linked her arm with his. “Fenris! What are you doing here?”

He gently disentangled his arm from the warmth of her fingers. “I’m following your suggestion and going home. We are practically neighbours.”

“Right, right,” she drawled, then took another sip from the bottle, and Fenris noted that it was already one-quarter empty.

She must have noticed his gaze, because she offered the bottle to him. “Drink?”

He hesitated, then took the proffered bottle and took a cautious sip. And promptly sputtered in disgust. “This is vile,” he announced.

“I know,” she crowed. “It’s terrible, right? Come on, come over to mine. I can offer you something better. I know how much you love that fancy Tevinter wine…”

Fenris pursed his lips, but he couldn’t deny her claim. And one glass of wine couldn’t hurt. “Fine,” he said.

She beamed at him and hooked her hand around his arm again, and this time Fenris permitted the friendly touch as she led them through the quiet streets of Hightown.

She kicked off her boots the second they stepped through her door, then waved her hand at the bench in the foyer. “Hang out here for a second, okay? It was a bit of a mess when I left. Sandal was doing some… interesting experiments. I just want to make sure it’s not a total disaster before I let you in.”

It hardly mattered if her house was tidy – most of Fenris’s mansion was a mess of cobwebs and dust, after all – but Fenris sat on the bench anyway. “I’m not staying long,” he told her.

She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “What if I give you a really, really big glass of wine?” she said. Then she disappeared around the corner.

Fenris smirked and shook his head, then leaned back on the bench to wait. But when a full five minutes passed and she didn’t return, he started to wonder.

He rose to his feet and cautiously made his way into the main room. The main hearth was dark and cold, but a gentle fire-orange glow spilled through the door of her study.

Fenris quietly approached the study, then stopped in the doorway. Hawke was sitting silently on the floor in front of the fireplace, her face obscured by the dark curtain of her hair and her shoulders shaking.

Fenris froze. A chill rippled through his chest, almost like a cold spill of panic, and an instinctive voice told him to back away. This was not the Hawke he knew. This was private. If she wanted him to see this – if she wanted anyone to see this – she would not be crying silently in the back room of her house. If Fenris was in her place, he would hate to disturbed like this.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment. Then he slowly entered the room and crouched at her side. “Hawke,” he said quietly.

She jumped, then hastily wiped her face. “Sorry,” gasped. “Sorry, Fenris, I was just – I didn’t forget you were here, I was just…”

Her voice was thick with tears, and the cold feeling in his chest throbbed painfully. He slowly sat beside her and pretended not to notice as she surreptitiously wiped her face on the slender red scarf around her neck.

“He is a drunk,” Fenris said eventually. “His words hold no value.”

Hawke sighed tremulously. “He’s not usually that bad, you know. It’s just…” She trailed off, then ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m tired, Fenris,” she said softly. “When we first came here, I kind of hoped… I don’t know. That he’d be more helpful. Someone to share the load. But he’s just another person to look after. One more worry to add to the pile.”

She reached for the abandoned bottle of whisky, and Fenris watched sadly as she took another deep drink. She exhaled, then turned to him with a tiny smile. “Maker’s balls, what kind of host am I? I didn’t even get you that glass of wine.” She started to push herself to her feet.

He reached out and took her hand before she could rise. “Leave it,” he said. “It is not necessary.”

She stopped in a half-risen position as she met his gaze. “But then I’ll have no excuse to keep you here.” Her tone was playful, but her smirk didn’t quite meet her amber eyes.

“I’ll stay. For a short while,” he assured her.

Fenris watched as the corners of her eyes crinkled with a smile. Then he realized he was still holding her hand.

Hastily he released her, then stretched his legs out in front of the fire. She settled herself beside him and stretched her own legs out. “I’m glad,” she said. “Because, well, I have to tell you something.” She lifted the whisky bottle to her lips again and shot him a little smirk. “I have no wine.”

Fenris shook his head. “You’re a terrible host,” he drawled. “And a liar. I shall never come back.”

She swallowed her whisky, then groaned dramatically. “Oh come on. Then who will I stare at during our card games? You’re my favourite eye candy.”

He snorted. She really was irrepressible. Except… perhaps she wasn’t as immune to the harder edges of life as Fenris has thought.

They sat in front of the fire for some time, making idle chat and passing the bottle of disgusting whisky back and forth until it was almost gone. Hawke’s voice began to slur as time went on, and when she leaned her head against his shoulder, he didn’t move away.

Eventually she fell silent, her head becoming heavier on his shoulder, and Fenris nudged her gently. “Hawke.”

She murmured softly in her sleep, but didn’t stir. Fenris sat quietly for another moment and mulled over his options. Finally he shifted away from the weight of her head, then lifted her carefully into his arms.

Halfway up the stairs, she slung her arm around his neck. “So strong and manly. You can carry me anytime,” she muttered. “How ‘bout the next time we go to the Bone Pit?”

He nudged open her bedroom door with one foot. “No,” he said flatly. “That blasted place is dangerous enough without carrying you around like a sack of gold ingots.”

She chuckled lazily as he laid her on the bed. “That would hurt my feelings if you hadn’t said ‘gold’. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Her voice was so muffled with sleep and spirits that she was barely comprehensible. He positioned her on her side and propped a pillow behind her to stop her from rolling over, then pulled the blankets over her. “Go to sleep, Hawke.”

“‘Kay,” she muttered, then promptly fell unconscious.

She looked so serious in her sleep. It was odd to see such a somber expression on her face. Her ever-present smirk used to infuriate him, but he didn’t mind it anymore.

He was quite fond of her little smirk, actually.

Finally he left, closing her bedroom door behind him and slipping out of the silent mansion. But his mind remained with Hawke as he padded through the quiet streets of Hightown.

Always smiling, he thought. She was always smiling, always joking around with everyone. She was always quick a glib remark when she was threatened, always armed with a snappy comeback when anyone insulted her. Her levity had irritated him when they’d first met, but over time it had become one of the things he most appreciated about her. If he was completely honest, it was one of her most attractive traits.

But somehow he’d never really thought to question whether there was something darker beneath her jocular demeanour.

A little pang of guilt jolted at his belly as he stepped into his house. He’d known Hawke for some three-odd years. It had been long enough that he could now admit that he’d been attracted to her for most of that time. But somehow it was only now occurring to him that they barely knew anything about each other.

Maybe it’s time to change that, he thought. But he wasn’t quite sure how. Hiding had become so natural to him, it was simply… easier.

But tonight, Hawke had shed her tongue-in-cheek veneer, whether she’d meant to or not. Tonight, she’d let him see a glimpse of something more – of someone who might understand him better than he thought.

Maybe Fenris could try to do the same.