A/N: Giiirl, how good it feels to be ignoring my responsibilities and writing fanfiction again. I've spent roughly three years procrastinating in other ways, but this seems much more fun! Plus I have a support system (and by support system I totally mean someone peer pressured me into this by writing some bombass fanfiction and triggering my low impulse control so I hopped on the 'get fucked' train to 'fanfiction is your life now' town and here we are!). Very excited! Of course I picked something that hasn't been popular since 2011 but to be fair, I am currently playing it for the first time because I procrastinate on everything, even things I like to do.

Tl;dr: I word vomit a lot, excited to be here, love me please.

It was the millionth time Hawke had traced the lines of tattoo spanning the flesh she could reach, the ex-slave's back to her. She had to have been doing this for the better part of an hour but she couldn't seem to stop, desperate to memorize the lines and ridges of him. She was startled into stopping when he finally spoke.

"How many times are you going to do that?" Fenris drawled, a hint of amusement in his tone. He rolled over onto his back and tilted his head in her direction. His hair followed the movement and a shock of white briefly hid his eyes from sight. Hawke couldn't help but love those eyes, although she couldn't tell you exactly what color they were. Sometimes they seemed more gray, sometimes more green, as if a maelstrom of a storm was brewing just underneath the surface.

Hawke pushed herself up a little, her unbound hair tumbling over her shoulder as she regarded her elven lover. "As many times as I like," She answered cheekily. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since you started…" Fenris admitted with a sigh, relaxing into the soft covers of Hawke's bed. He'd been living too long in Danarius's abandoned mansion with few comforts: he hadn't touched a thing since they'd ransacked the place years ago. "Light sleep is both a blessing and a curse."

Hawke frowned suddenly. "Sorry, I should have known." She mentally chastised herself. How could she not have thought that about him? He'd spent how many years as a slave, beckoned and abused all hours of the day and night and she'd just thoughtlessly kept him from sleep.

"Why would you have known?" He reached out to take her hand, pulling it towards him and resting it against his chest. He guided her fingers across his chest, loosely following the lines of lyrium he knew so well.

"Suppose it's just common sense." She sighed, settling herself against him and allowing their joined hands to follow the gentle swirls again and again. It was hard not to sulk. As those thunderstorm eyes turned to her, she stubbornly avoided the intense gaze. Only once Fenris stopped the now rhythmic motion did she tilt her own gaze up.

He looked down at her in silence before breaking the contact, staring at nothing. The crackling of the fireplace was the only noise for almost too long. "I don't expect you to understand what my life was like. As a matter of fact, if you did…" His hand tightened on hers. "Nevermind. My main concern is that you don't pity me… or yourself. What's done is done. I am what I am. Just… accept it. Accept me." His eyes came back to Hawke, his lips curling down as if with anxiety at her answer.

"Fenris." Hawke's voice came out in a rush of emotion. She pushed herself up again, wrapping her blanket around herself as she reached out and took his hand in both of hers. "Of course I accept you… if I ever made you feel otherwise…"

A bit of the tension leaked away and Fenris gave her a rare, small smile. "No, I… just like the reassurance."

Hawke smiled back, leaning in and brushing her lips against his. "Any time."

A/N: Woo, a nice, short, sweet warm-up one shot.