It was the yelling that alerted Fenris to the visitor, not the banging on his door. Only slightly irritated, he put down the wine bottle and headed down the stairs. As soon as he opened the door and saw who it was, he immediately wished he hadn't.

"What do you want, mage?" he growled. Of all the people who would come calling on him this late at night, it had to be Anders. If not for Hawke's insistence that they both "play nice," as she put it, he would've gotten rid of him long ago. At the slight thought of Hawke, Fenris felt his heart clench. It had been six months since that night. The night that had been the best of his life, right before his world was crushed. By his own hand.

"Your mouth being sewed shut, for starters," Anders replied with his usual sarcasm. His expression was somewhere between annoyance and slight urgency. "I'm not here to have a midnight chat with you, however."

"Thank the Maker for that," Fenris muttered. "So why are you here? If it's not important, leave before I snap your staff in two."

Anders' brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. He exhaled with exasperation, then said "It's Hawke."

Fenris' heart now skipped a beat entirely. He could feel the lyrium in his veins react to his panic, uncomfortably heating his skin. "What has happened? If any harm has come to her and you've been standing here wasting my time, I will-"

"Do you really think that I'd be wasting my time here, talking to you if she was actually hurt?" Anders interrupted. "The only enemy she is facing right now is herself." At Fenris' now puzzled expression, the mage continued. "She's down at the Hanged Man with the dwarf. They were playing what looked like a death match of wicked grace and Hawke felt the need to drink herself into oblivion." Anders shook his head and said "It was almost impressive how she downed those drinks."

Fenris let the rage marginally slide from him and then asked "So why haven't you taken her home? Or are you planning on taking advantage of her later?"

"Maker, NO!" Anders said, now clearly put out with the elf. After a moment he shoulders slumped, and then he said quietly "I've been trying for the past hour. She refuses to go with me."

Fenris narrowed his eyes and was on the verge of just hitting the mage when Anders continued, quietly, with "She says she'll only go home with you."

Fenris was frozen solid. What Anders said couldn't possibly be true. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. The only time Fenris even spent time around Hawke was on their misadventures, at Hawke's insistence that he remain in their party. The only words he spoke to her were of incoming arrows or an exasperated warning when she dared get too close to a slumbering wyvern. It wasn't as if she hated him now, though she had every right in the world to. In fact, up until two months ago, she would attempt to strike up conversations with him and try to continue their previously light-hearted banter. Each time he would give curt, uninterested answers to discourage her. He purposefully did not make eye contact and avoided being near her, in the hopes she would grow to resent him. He didn't know what caused him the most pain; the hope that Lillian Hawke would one day hate him, or the hope that she would continue to harbor feelings for him.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Anders irritated voice broke Fenris out of his reverie. "You should go and fetch her before she walks out on her own. And you know the kind of trouble she gets into when she's sober, let alone inebriated." At that, Anders gave him a pointed look. With those words, Fenris shut the door and began walking towards Lowtown. "You need not accompany me, mage," he said over his shoulder.

"Oh don't worry. I'd sooner take on the Taal-Vashoth stark naked before I assist you," Anders replied. "I'm headed back to the clinic. Have Varric find me when you leave." And with those parting words he began to walk in the opposite direction. Fenris did not glance back as he continued down the dark streets. He hadn't bothered to go back for his sword. With Aveline's help, they had done a neat job of ridding the city of the petty criminals that roamed in the night. Besides, he didn't need his sword to dispatch a few common thieves.

As Fenris neared the Hanged Man, he heard the dulled cheers and a feeling enveloped him that he couldn't quite put a name to, but did nothing to ease his apprehension. He opened the door and was greeted by the familiar smell of leather and cheap alcohol. Before he took take more than two steps in, Varric stepped in his path.

"Alright Broody," the dwarf began. "Before you lose it, let me just say I tried. But you know Hawke," he continued with a chuckle. "Once she gets going, you can't really stop her."

"Just take me to her," Fenris said gruffly. He didn't have the same contempt for Varric as he did Anders. On the contrary, they got along quite well and Fenris tended to enjoy his long-winded storytelling.

Varric nodded and led Fenris to a table near the back, where a small crowd was gathered. They appeared to be cheering someone on, and Fenris had a creeping suspicion he knew who it was. No sooner than he thought this that the crowd exploded into cheers and Varric shook his and sighed. "I told her to take it slow," he muttered under his breath.

The elf went ahead and pushed himself through the crowd, his cause of worry confirmed when he got to the table. There sat Hawke, surrounded by at least six empty glasses and quite red in the face. Her small lips stretched into a triumphant grin as she slammed her freshly drained glass to the worn wood. Hawke's auburn hair, which was usually tied back neatly, hung in wavy strands down her face. He watched as her gaze swept past him for a split second, then almost immediately settle on him. Several emotions flitted across her face before she broke into a smile and practically climbed over the table to get to him.

Hawke nearly toppled him over as she collided into him and wrapped her arms tightly around his back. Fenris put his hands on her waist and took a step back to steady them both and threw an almost biting glance back at Varric, who simply shrugged. After clinging to him for almost a minute, Hawke leaned back and began to poke Fenris on the cheek. An action that made him freeze for the second time that night.

"And where, pray tell, have you been?" she asked him with playful aggravation. She did not slur her words, but rather enunciated more than was necessary. That alone told Fenris exactly how many drinks she had really consumed. "I've been waiting for you for ages!"

Fenris ignored the question and grabbed the hand that was still jabbing his face. "You should get some fresh air, Hawke," he said, his voice coming out more reproachful than he meant. Hawke's expression fell for a split second, but then the lopsided grin was back. "No, silly, we can't leave yet! Varric is about to start another round of wicked grace!" She took him by the arms and began to lead him back to the table, but Varric, thankfully intervened.

"Hold on, Hawke. We were gonna move the party to Broody's place, right?" Varric said soothingly. At the same time, he threw a wink over to Fenris. "He's got the good wine, remember?"

"Oh, that's right," Hawke said excitedly. She turned back to him and put her hands on his shoulders and said "Fenris, do you have any more of that Agro-Pirelli-something or other? I quite enjoyed that one."

Despite himself, Fenris snorted in amusement. He knew for a fact that Hawke vehemently despised anything sweet, and that rule went double for wines. "I will see what I can hunt down," he said, deciding to play along for the meantime. "But we should head out as soon as possible." With that he grabbed her hand and began to gently pull her along towards the door. As an afterthought, Fenris turned back to the dwarf and said "I will take her to my residence until she sobers up."

"See you there, Varric!" Hawke called back. Varric grinned and waved back to as he shouted "Take care of her, Broody!"

Fenris rolled his eyes as he continued to make his way back to the mansion with Hawke in tow. They set off at a brisk walk, but Hawke immediately began to stumble and Fenris slowed his pace. As efficiently as they had taken care of most of the thugs that preferred to roam in these late hours, he was not eager to spend too much time on the dark city streets, especially with Hawke this far gone. Talented a fighter though she was, she didn't stand even a hint of chance in this state.

Hawke caught her foot yet again, though this time she nearly took Fenris down with her. He turned and she smiled at him apologetically. Maker, how many times had he dreamed of her lopsided, yet sweet smile? How many times had he wished for her to look at him this genuinely again? His face softened and he sighed. "What I am to do with you, Hawke?"

Fenris crouched down and situated her on his back, with her arms hooked around his neck. He stood up with his hands supporting her back, and began walking as smoothly as he could manage so as not to jostle her too much. They were silent for a time, and then Hawke murmured "Thank you, Fenris."

After a moment, he replied quietly "There is no need. We are friends, are we not?"

"Yes," Hawke said, and then Fenris could hear sadness creep into her voice. "Sometimes I feel as if you are all I have left. My family… they are gone." He stiffened as her arms tightened around him and he felt her breath on his neck.

"My brother was taken by the deep roads," she continued. "My mother was murdered. My sister did not even make it to the city. I-" She hiccupped, then drew a shaky breath before she said "I am alone, for the most part."

By this time they were just outside the mansion. Fenris set her down gently, and she stepped back to lean against the cold, stone wall to the right of the door. It took a considerable amount of willpower to keep himself from sweeping her into his arms and spending the rest of the night comforting her. Telling her how much she truly meant to him, how fervently he hoped that she would forgive him, and how desperately he needed her touch once more. He waited quietly, patiently until her light sobs subsided, and then reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. She kept her head turned to the side, unwilling to meet his gaze. Then, very softly he murmured her name. "Lily."

"You are never alone," he said gently. "You have many friends who are proud to be in your company and do not hesitate to fight beside you. And should all else fail, I will always be here. For as long as you will have me, I remain at your side."

Hawke looked at him, her dark green eyes wide. Tears sparkled in them, tangled in her dark lashes. Their faces were close enough that he could count the freckles on her tanned skin. Her lips trembled as she shakily whispered "F-Fenris, please. Please don't leave me."

She threw her arms around him and this time he embraced her tightly. Oh, Andraste save him, how he had missed this. Missed her warmth mingling with his. How he had missed her familiar, comforting scent; earthy florals and hints of leather from her armor. The willpower that he had clung to only moments ago had completely deserted him. Hawke had pulled back slightly to look at him, and now he slowly, carefully moved his face closer to hers, until their lips barely touched.

The kiss was gentle at first, oh so gentle. His lips delicately caressed hers, and Fenris let his hands trail down to her waist while Hawke moved hers to tenderly encircle his neck. Her fingertips brushed against the lyrium in his skin, but somehow it was not unpleasant. Similar to before, the magic in him reacted, warming his skin. But unlike before, it was not an uncomfortable, burning sensation, more akin to a slight tingle. He very lightly nibbled her lower lip, and Hawke let out a quiet moan. That small sound, however, was enough to fully rekindle the fire in him. He moved to roughly press her against the door, his kisses growing more intense now. Hawke gasped against his mouth, very nearly driving him over the edge. One of his hands came down to her leg and hitched it around his waist as he pressed harder against her. Then he felt her hands pressing against him and she called his name in a breathy voice.

"Fenris, wait. Please," she pleaded. He paused, breathing hard, but did not let her go. At his questioning expression, she fumbled for the door knob and said quietly "Not out here."

Clumsily, they entered the foyer, and again Fenris pushed Hawke against the door, none too gently. In the back of his mind, Fenris knew this was a mistake. He knew he would regret this whole night come morning. He knew he should stop, before this got anymore out of hand. He didn't care though. His need for her warmth, her soft touch won out over every rational thought.

In his moment of decision, they had paused for a precious moment, drinking in each other's presence, breathing hard. Hawke kept her eyes closed and rested her hands ever-so-gently on the sides of his neck. In the heated quiet of the mansion, she whispered "Fenris, I missed you. Please. Please don't leave again."

Fenris' grip on her waist tightened, crushing her to him. He desperately, desperately wanted to assure her, to comfort her. Most of all, he wanted to give her the answer she needed. But he couldn't, at least not yet. Not until he had no more doubts, no more regrets.

He knew that Hawke would not remember this night, or at least not this moment. Their embrace would be forgotten once more, and they would go back to their awkward, but reliable companionship. He would continue to gaze longingly and protectively at Lillian Hawke, and she in return would cast melancholy glances when it appeared Fenris was not aware.

That was why Fenris could not stop himself from gently, tenderly kissing her once more, and murmuring "I am yours."

Thank you for reading! This is my first piece, so comments and favorites are greatly appreciated.