Title: Promise you'll stay
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: M
Length: 1,155 words
Content notes: No content warnings apply
Author notes: Written for the 'breakfast’ challenge in fan_flashworks.
Summary: Hawke asks Fenris for just one thing when he spends the night with her and Anders.

***

The next time it happened, they were drunk.

It was Wicked Grace night, and Hawke had been feeling flush with gold. With the ale flowing, they had been easy pickings for Isabela and Varric, who had lightened their pockets then sent them on their way. The copious alcohol seemed to loosen something up between them. As they walked back to Hightown up the seemingly endless stairs, Fenris’s arm bumped up against Hawke’s, and she caught his little finger with her own, eliciting a giggle from her and a shock of adrenaline through him. Anders was silent on the other side of Hawke, the most sober out of the three of them, but Fenris could feel his watchful presence press upon him in the cool night air.

They paused outside Hawke’s estate, like they did every evening. Normally, Fenris would say goodnight, move on and try not to think any more about it. But he was unsurprised tonight when Hawke turned hopeful eyes upon him.

She had been flirting with him all evening, stealing his ale and his cards, and giving him long, cheeky looks when he objected. A couple of times, she had leaned close and he had thought she might be about to kiss him. Though he knew it was a bad idea, it had sent his heart rate soaring. But she had always turned away at the last moment.

Fenris glanced at Anders. The mage merely quirked an eyebrow, as though challenging Fenris to make up his mind. When Fenris turned back to Hawke, she must have read something in his expression because a smile lit up her face. She extended her hand to him, and Fenris took it.

She drew him in through the front door of the estate, through the foyer and hall, and into the library. As she tugged him over towards the banked fire, Anders went to the liquor cabinet by the mezzanine wall.

“Drink?” he asked. Fenris could only nod, unable to take his eyes off Hawke, mere inches away, her face rosy in the light of the fire. The golden highlights in her brown eyes caught the warm light of the fire, making them almost look like they were glowing. Or maybe that was the ale. His gaze moved down to her lips, and he unconsciously licked his own.

She moved closer, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around his neck. He ran his hands down the strong muscles of her back and waist, admiring the way they moved. Her chest was pressed up against his. He wondered if she would be able to feel the way his heart was pounding.

Venhedis, he loved her.

“Hawke-” he started, wanting to say something about what she meant to him, how much he had missed her. But she cut him off. Swaying a little, she removed one of her arms from around his neck to press her finger over his lips.

“Shhh,” she said. “Do you want to be here? With me?” She glanced over at Anders, “With us?”

Fenris looked over at Anders, who was putting the wine down after having poured three glasses. He turned back to Hawke. Despite the mage, there was only one answer, and it was pounding through his veins.

“Yes,” he said. Then tried again, “Hawke, I-”

She didn’t let him finish. She swayed forward and kissed him. Her lips tasted sour like the Hanged Man’s ale, but they were soft and yielding, and Fenris’s attempts to converse fled. He slid his arms further around her and pulled her close, the feeling of her hips against his own fully rousing him. For a long moment, nothing else existed outside of the two of them.

Then Anders coughed.

Fenris pulled back and took a deep breath, glaring at the mage.

“Drink?” Anders said blandly, offering each of them a glass of wine.

Hawke laughed and unwound herself from Fenris. She took the glass and drained the wine, her eyes sparkling over the rim. Fenris was a bit slower to take his, fighting the urge to throw it in Anders’ face for interrupting them. Anders only looked at him with irritatingly knowing eyes.

As Fenris drank from his glass, slower than Hawke had done, Anders fetched his own and moved to Hawke’s other side. Holding the glass in one hand, he tilted Hawke’s head to the side with the other, and leaned down to kiss his way from her hairline, along the side of her jaw, to her neck. Hawke closed her eyes, her mouth falling open with a small gasp as she reached back and up over her head to tangle her fingers in Anders’ hair.

Fenris felt jealousy stab through his gut. Not of Anders, per se – but of the feelings he was evoking in Hawke. He wanted... He tried to sort through his feelings. He wanted… to be the one who was causing her pleasure.

Anders looked at Fenris over Hawke’s shoulder.

“Do you want us, love?” he asked in a low tone that was nevertheless pitched to carry.

“Mmmm, yes,” she said, not opening her eyes.

“Both of us?” Anders asked.

“Yes,” she said, and opened her eyes to look beseechingly at Fenris. “Fenris – please?”

He could not refuse her. He stepped closer again, so that she was pressed between him and Anders, and she hummed with pleasure before reaching out to take his hand and draw it to her waist again. He pulled her hips against his own and she looked at him with eyes that were warm with desire.

Fenris briefly registered that Anders was doing something with her hair before it fell loose down around her shoulders, enveloping them all in some kind of herbal fragrance. Fenris inhaled deeply, wanting to preserve every sensory memory, then leaned in to kiss the other side of her neck from Anders. Her answering moan sent a flush of pleasure from his heart down to his groin. Hawke’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear as she tilted her head down to murmur,

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” he vowed, meaning it with his whole heart.

“Promise you'll stay for breakfast this time.”

He drew back to look into her eyes, unsure if she was teasing, but her expression was serious as she regarded him.

“I... will,” he said, a little uncertainly, then added “- if you want me to.” He wasn't sure how they would feel about having him still around in the morning. What passion might tolerate in the evening could become an irritant by morning.

Hawke smiled with satisfaction, then suddenly, confusingly, stepped away. Despite the liquor she had consumed, she was still light and steady on her feet, and easily twisted out of their embrace.

“Come,” she said, offering a hand to both Fenris and Anders with a smile. And when they each took it, she drew them up the stairs to her bedchamber.