A/N: This is a gift fic for ImmortalFlower, the 100th reviewer of my Dragon Age fic A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path. She gave me a couple ideas, this being one of them that she wanted to see written: "Hilarity and embarrassment ensue in a game of one-upmanship when a rogue FHawke and Isabela vie for Fenris' attention and affection. Hawke attempts to best Isabela at her own game by donning some very out of character and very RISQUE garments in a bid to outdo her." Timing is ACT II.

This is for you dear! I hope I do your idea justice! If you like it, I'll consider it a job well done.

Note: I love ALL forms of support and love, reviews, alerts, favorites, and follows; but this is what reviews get you! Presents! Everyone loves gift fics, yay! I am never joking when I saw reviews give me motivation. :D

Disclaimer: Bioware.

This Means War

Hawke and Isabela were complete opposites when it came to being rogues, and of course, women. Isabela wore whatever she wanted practicality be damned, she was a flirt, she gave her affection freely and showed not a hint of shame; Hawke, well, she put practicality above all else, was shy but witty, and could not stand to be put on display in ways that the rogue pirate often did in her chosen garb. For Maker's sake, the pirate wore no pants! Despite the differences however, she and Isabela became the best of friends. Nigh inseparable. They were never at odds and never had a disagreement. Hawke never even felt a negative twinge once aimed at the pirate; at least, not until Fenris came along.

It had all started innocently enough.

She, Isabela, Fenris, and Anders were searching the Wounded Coast for a patrol of qunari that had gone missing – a patrol she was being accused of killing. Oh sure, she'd killed qunari, no doubt about that, but she had not taken out this patrol and wasn't going to be blamed for something she didn't do.

"See anything?" She asked as she knelt to examine a booted print in the dirt.

"Not yet," Isabela replied.

They stood and kept going down the winded path. Anders and Isabela passed the time with random bits of conversation; often times conversations would spark up, how could they not when they walked hours on end through various places. They weren't all that significant to Hawke and she didn't often pay attention, but whenever she heard the deep, smooth timbre of Fenris' voice, she couldn't help herself. She had to listen.

"So this relic you mentioned losing - " he started, words obviously meant for Isabela.

"You have pretty eyes," Isabela purred in response.

Hawke felt her gut churn uncomfortably. You have pretty eyes? What in the Void was that supposed to mean? Was she coming on to Fenris now? The urge to slap Isabela caught her by surprise and she visibly winced; where had that come from? Never once had she wanted to do such a thing to her friend. So why now?

"I...have pretty eyes," Fenris repeated slowly, as if he had been caught off guard by her rather impromptu compliment.

"You elves have such pretty eyes. Even the men," she chuckled. "It makes me want to...pluck them out and wear them as a necklace."

Okay, so maybe Hawke had been reading a little too far into the compliment. Isabela knew, at least had guessed, that Hawke had a crush on the elf(though she supposed that competition would only serve to stroke the pirate's interest even higher). Silence fell over the party and for once Hawke could appreciate the silence for what it was. They found the patrol near the south point of the coast and before long, they began the hike back to Kirkwall, though Hawke's mood was still awfully sour. It would help if she could stop picturing Isabela with Fenris, but the images refused to vamoose on out for greener pastures.

"You keep staring at me," Fenris remarked and Hawke glanced back at him curiously, though she frowned when she realized that he wasn't addressing her, but Isabela. "Is it my eyes again?"

"You're very...lanky, for an elf," the pirate mused out loud. Her tone dropped into a seductive lilt as she added, "I like lanky."

Okay! To the Void, she did not misread that. There was no way to misread that. Not in that tone of voice there wasn't. Hawke's fingers twitched, hand tense, as she forced herself to keep it as her side.

"From what I gather, you like a lot of things," Fenris replied dryly.

"Nonsense!" Isabela exclaimed with a chuckle. Anders scoffed, though quickly sobered up when the pirate sent him a genital-withering-glare. She was quick to turn her attention back to the elf, however. "But when I see something I like, I go after it."

Hawke saw Fenris' dark brow rise up in response. "I suggest you keep your distance." That's right, Fenris, you tell her!

"Now you're just making it challenging!" She purred with a soft chuckle, giving him a bat of her lashes as she smiled.

Ignore it, Hawke. Isabela is always like this. Ignore it!

"Do you intend to come after me then?" Fenris asked of her a moment later. Okay, that she couldn't ignore. She listened intently, so intently she vaguely wondered if she were straining her ears or had ceased her walking.

"Would you take off all that spiky armor you're wearing?" Isabela teased.

"It's been known to happen," Fenris supplied cautiously. Oh hell no!

Safe to say the walk back to Kirkwall seemed to take an eternity and Hawke's irritation didn't let up for a single moment. Neither did the urge to slap her friend.

Maker, she was jealous, wasn't she?

When she caught Isabela thrusting her cleavage into Fenris' line of vision later that night at the Hanged Man, and his mossy eyes openly staring, that was an easy question to answer.

Ah nug shit. Jealous. That's blasted lovely. Just what I need.

Hawke frowned as she sorted through the garments and armor that she owned. She was practical, damn it. All her lower garments consisted of nothing but trousers, even her house clothes; upper garments were usually tight, and completely covering, and even covered then by a vest. Elbow length gloves, knee length boots. How could she compete with Isabela with any of what she owned?

The answer was – she couldn't.

Figure wise she knew she could. She wasn't superficial or obsessed with her figure, but she knew she was attractive beneath all her layers. But hell, it was embarrassing to put one's self on display, whether or not they were attractive. It was normal to feel shame. If she couldn't do this, she could very well lose the one man she had felt an undeniable attraction to. Isabela would snatch him right from under her, as she had a score of men before him(though to other women, not Hawke).

Get over it, Hawke. You can do this. Fenris was looking, which means he likes the show. So put on a show!

They were going to think she'd finally lost it. Hell as long as they were going to assume that, she might as well dive right in.

Snatching up her coin purse she went to the one place where knew she would not be disappointed – the Blooming Rose.

Her face was on fire. Or at least it felt like it. Maker, she couldn't believe she was wearing this. A black shirt dress reminiscent of Isabela's, though the cuts were more daring, if that were possible. The deep V between her breasts left nearly nothing to the imagination and the slits on the sides reached high to the jut of her hip bones. A scrap of black small-clothes were her only bit of modesty. She wore thigh high boots of black, covered in buckles, and topped with the crest of Kirkwall; reaching high of her thighs were stockings of white. Her arms were completely bare, save golden bracelets that adorned her wrists. Her hair was loose and combed to perfection, falling in curls around her slender unadorned neck; her face was bare, all natural. The whores of the Blooming Rose had definitely done what she paid them to do, but that didn't mean she was going to be able to go through with this.

Her limbs trembled where she stood in her foyer, a cloak wrapped around her snugly, hiding her from view.

Thank the Maker mother is asleep. She'd keel over if she saw me dressed this way. To the Void, I am never going to live this down. No – don't think like that. Don't even think. Just go, now, before you lose the nerve!

Swallowing thickly, she went through the door before she had the chance to change her mind.

"AH! Hawke is here!" Varric exclaimed with a lift of his mug as she walked through the doors into the Hanged Man. "Not a moment too soon," he muttered as she came toward the table, indicating the table where Isabela sat with Fenris. "Our pirate is getting a little cozy with broody over there."

Cozy? Hawke thought the word wasn't sufficient. Isabela had her hand on Fenris' knee beneath the table, her body angled toward his so he could see her ample bosom. She laughed about something, her tongue darting out to swipe across her lower lip.

As hard as it was, she shrugged it off and turned a smile on Varric. "Having fun tonight?"

"You know it! Blondie hasn't won a hand against me yet."

"That's because you keep cheating!" Anders exclaimed.

"I haven't seen him do anything," Merrill said sweetly with a cock of her head.

"Varric is sneaky," Hawke chuckled. "You can't always count on your eyes."

"Shh, Hawke. You'll give away all my secrets," Varric said in mock hurt, slapping a hand over his heart.

"Is Fenris and Isabela ever coming back to play?" Merrill asked, obviously innocent and not aware of exactly was happening at the nearby table.

"I don't think so, sunshine. Isabela has plans." Varric swapped out a card faster than anyone could catch, save maybe Hawke and the pirate, but Hawke was too busy fuming silently at his words to pay attention to the game of Diamond Back. "Show your hands, ladies." Anders and Merrill put their cards down and Varric laughed, sweeping up the pot. "I win again!"

"Cheater," Anders muttered. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "Not that we should be surprised. About the mongrel and the whore, that is. She does bed anything that moves."

Hawke narrowed her eyes on him but bit her tongue.

"Are you jealous Anders?" Merrill giggled.

He scoffed, and loudly at that. "You can't really get jealous when someone sleeps with Isabela. It's just...understood." He waved his hand dismissively. "She's like a side-dish; she comes with the meal."

Understood, my arse! I'll never forgive her if she touches him! It's now or never, Hawke. She pursed her lips and lifted her hands to the ties of her cloak and began undoing them, one by one. Then she let it slowly slide off her arms before she folded it up and set it on the table. "Getting a little hot in here," she grinned with a shrug.

Anders' eyes nearly popped out of his head. As it was, he'd been drinking from a mug of ale when he glanced at her and the liquid had gone flying from his mouth as he sputtered in shock. Varric merely smirked and rose a brow, quietly chuckling to himself.

"Oh Hawke, you look so pretty!" Merrill exclaimed.

"Spending too much time with Isabela?" Anders croaked as he smacked his chest to keep from coughing. His cheeks were flaming red and he was fidgeting oddly in his seat.

"You know how it is, girls who spend too much time together - " she waved with hand with a small chuckle, even though she could feel her cheeks heating in embarrassment. Confident, be confident. You got this, Hawke.

"What are you wearing?" a voice growled from behind her, a voice that sent shivers down her spine. Gathering her courage, she turned slowly to face the object of her affection.

He stood just a few feet away from her, his mossy green eyes narrowed as they raked the entirety of her figure. She couldn't help the way her flesh prickled beneath his roaming gaze, or the way her nipples tightened into hard peaks; he must have seen it, for his gaze froze on her chest for a moment longer than anywhere else. He growled again before he lifted his gaze to her face. Feigning disinterest, she thrust her lip out in a pout and shrugged a delicate shoulder. "What? Am I not entitled to a girl's night out?"

He swallowed. Visibly. A glance over his shoulder showed Isabela staring at her with a 'I know what you're up to' gaze. "It just...I have never seen you in such clothes," he mumbled lamely, waving a hand to indicate her state of dress.

"Yes, well, I've been told a time or two I need to loosen up," Hawke said in her best attempt at a purr. His eyes widened.

"It appears our little Hawke does have an adventurous side," Isabela responded in a purr much more practiced than her own. She laid her hand on Fenris' shoulder and pressed herself against his arm. The glint in the pirate's eye told Hawke she was more than willing to play her game, and that she would win, but Hawke wasn't so sure of that given the frown he gave when she touched him.

"Hawke is full of surprises!" Varric laughed. "Ha! I win again Blondie!"

"If I catch you cheating I'm going to blast off your hand," Anders grunted.

"Good thing you'll never catch me."

"Cards?" Hawke asked sweetly, inclining her head toward the table. "Or would you like to get a drink, Fenris?" He stared at her. With a chuckle, she came forward and took his hand to pull him free of Isabela. "Come, let's get a drink. On me, of course," she teased but did not elaborate; if he wanted to think of licking the ale from her flesh, who was she to stop him?

"Of-of course, Hawke." He followed with her and they made their way to the bar where they slid into the stools.

Hawke leaned forward, elbows on the wooden bar top as she waved over the tender. "Two pints," she ordered, plucking out a sovereign from her cleavage. The bar tender cleared his throat and she swore she heard Fenris groan. "Keep the extra," she added with a wink.

"Hawke. What game are you playing at?" Fenris asked, his voice low but stern as steel. She turned her gaze to his and smiled innocently, despite the way his eyes smoldering turned her legs to mush.

"Game? Whatever do you mean?" She chuckled and took the mugs as the bar tender returned with them. She passed one off to Fenris and took a swig of her own, licking her lips of the droplets a moment later. "I just wanted a night to have fun. That so much to ask for with all that I do?" She tried something she'd seen Isabela do, batting her lashes at him as she spoke. He swallowed.

"I am no fool and I am not daft," he grumbled.

"Just dense."

His dark brow jumped up. "I am...dense?"

"Fenris~" Isabela cooed his name. "Come play cards with us. And you Hawke, you can come too."

You can come too? What am I now – a blighted afterthought! Damn that pirate!

"Yes, dense. If you have been missing all of Isabela's..." She waved her hand emphatically, "advances."

He narrowed his eyes and growled, averting his eyes to bar top for a brief moment. "I have not missed any of them," he grumbled. His eyes lifted to hers'. "What makes you think I have? Because I have not acted on them? Are you jealous, Hawke?"

Hawke sighed softly, blushed, and adverted her gaze. "You must think me a fool for doing this, then."

"Nonsense, Hawke." Her eyes jumped back to him and her heart flipped at the smile curling his lips. "I admit I find the view...pleasing."

She narrowed her eyes on him and chuckled. "Isabela must have liquored you up."

"Perhaps." He chuckled as well.

"I think I will head on home, before I make an even bigger fool of myself" she hopped down from the stool and headed toward the table to sweep up her cloak, before departing the tavern, missing the way he – and everyone else – watched her as she went.

Fenris swallowed thickly when she left, then groaned and readjusted the iron steel hard on he had. Maker, to see Hawke in such a display of flesh, like an offering to his starved eyes. She was everything he had ever imagined beneath her layers. He'd had to keep himself from licking his lips each time her cleavage came into view, or when she crossed her long, slender, pale legs on the bar stool.

"Feeeennnrrriiiss," Isabela whined. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Come and play with me," she whispered against his ear, making him shudder. Damn wench knew how sensitive elves' ears were and had no problem using it to her advantage.

Hawke had thought him blind to the pirate's advances, but how could he be blind to something so obvious? To think she had dressed in such a way, as if to upstage the rivaini. She had way beyond upstaged the pirate. Hawke could make anything look good; trousers, scanty clothes, hell, a baggy sack. It didn't matter what she wore, but to think she had worn it because she was jealous of the attention Isabela was paying to him...it made his world reel faster than it already did when she was around. She wanted him. Him.

Growling, he pushed Isabela's arms off of him and stood. He didn't even say anything to her, just moved past her, despite her obvious pout, and left the tavern.

Hawke wasn't even home for a matter of minutes before someone pounded on her door. She grimaced; at this time of night, only she could answer and he was still dressed in her scandalous garb. Maker, would this night never cease in its unending dishes of embarrassment. With a sigh, she moved to the door and swung it open.

"F-fenris?" Her voice rushed out his name in a squeak.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he growled, herding her inside and kicking the door shut behind him. "Then you show up in that and I feel like I've lost my mind."

She blushed hotly as he moved her back against the wall, bracing his hands on either side of her head. His face was so close, his eyes smoldering at her, his breath falling across her lips. "Fenris - "

"You must know what you do to me," he groaned, taking her hand with his and pressing it to the straining bulge in the front of his breeches. She bit her lip as he moaned softly. "You cannot bear yourself in such a way and expect me not to respond." He rubbed himself against her hand and she trembled as heat curled low in her belly, her small-clothes suddenly dampening. "Is this what you wanted, little Hawke?" He whispered the words against her ear. When she simply whimpered, he nipped her lobe. "Tell me. Was this your intention?"

"Y-yes!" She palmed his length through his breeches and stroked, arching her body up to press it against his in a need to be close to him. "I wanted you to look at me, want me," she bit her lip and shivered, "not Isabela."

He growled and pulled away, Hawke crying out at the loss. He gripped her hips in his hands and lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder. She squeaked and blushed hotly, stifling a moan when he slid his hands up her thighs and gripped the globes of her rear. He smacked her once and she moaned, loud, this time, unabashed. He grunted, then began a purposeful walk through her house, up the stairs, and into her room. He kicked the door shut behind him and then stalked to the bed, tossing her upon it. He didn't give her a chance to settle as he pushed her onto her back, straddling her waist with his knees. He pinned her arms to the bed by her wrists and stared down at her, his gaze hot.

"I'm a man, Hawke," he leaned down and whispered against her lips, "I admit to having looked when she so readily puts herself out there. But I have never wanted her, not once."

Hawke shuddered, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at his words. "You haven't?"

"No." He didn't wait a moment longer and for that she was glad; he kissed her, slanting his lips across hers hard. She gasped and he slid his tongue past her parted lips to stroke her own. The kiss deepened, took on a life of its own, stroking a fire in her that left her a trembling, wanton heap beneath him. She strained against his hold, arching her body against him. The kiss ended all too soon, both of them panting and flushed. Slowly, he leaned up, his eyes roaming over her possessively. "The thoughts your clothes invoke Hawke..." He trailed off, licking his lips. The sight alone made her moan.

She laughed softly then. He cocked a brow at her curiously. "I suppose that means I won?"

He growled and rolled off her onto his back, pulling her astride his own hips. He ground his erection against her center, covered in a flimsy scrap of clothing and moaned at the feel of the wetness there. "Is that answer enough?" He ground out through clenched teeth, his fingers biting into her hips. She nodded and rubbed herself back him, loving the feel of him straining against her so needfully.

"Maker, Fenris, need you, now - " Hawke gasped. Her core ached unmercifully, and she should be embarrassed by how drenched she was, but she wasn't. All she could think about was how it would feel to having him filling her so wonderfully.

"Want to...take it slow...you deserve the best," he moaned, his head dropping back as they ground against each other.

"No. Not slow. Now."

He growled and rolled them again, his hand reaching down to rip away the scrap of fabric that kept her hidden from him. He tossed the damn fabric away and then slid back, dropping his head between her legs to run his tongue over her slick lips. She cried out, hands flying to his hair to grip, if only to keep herself grounded in reality as he flicked his tongue across her clit, making her shudder. Then it was sliding down, lapping at her, before stabbing inside of her, stroking her intimately. She panted, and moaned, her head tossing back and forth as her nerve endings screamed in pleasure. He pushed two fingers inside of her core, his tongue stroking her bundle of nerves again, starting a fast, hard rhythm that turned her into a weeping puddle of moans and whimpers. Before long she was bowing, arching high, a keen exploding free from her as she came against his fingers and mouth; he ate up every bit of her, licked her clean, before he was up, untying his breeches to allow his cock to spring free as she sagged boneless back to the mattress.

He didn't give her time to recover, gripping her hips and dragging her to the edge of the bed. The head of his cock pressed against her sodden nether-lips and then with a hard thrust, he was inside of her. They both cried out at the feeling; him filling her and stretching her center, she clenching around his rod hotly like a molten vice. Growling, he gripped the edges of the top of the dress and simply tore it open, allowing her buxom pale breasts to spill free, pink nipples tightened into hard little peaks.

"You feel...perfect, Hawke, so perfect," he groaned as he palmed her breasts, making her moan and writhe her hips against him.

"Don't stop, please, Fenris, don't stop." She wrapped her booted legs around his waist and pulled him deeper within her, making both of them shudder with pleasure.

He obeyed, his hips beginning a brutally fast pace, cock sliding free only to slam back in time and again. She panted, moaning loud – no, screaming loud, each thrust wrenching a keen free from her throat. Her hands wrenched in the fabric of the bed-spread, her body arched and writhing against his, breasts bouncing with each thrust as he gripped her hips and moved her against him. It was like her body was on fire, lava spreading through her blood veins and making her fear she would combust; she didn't fear it, but welcomed it. Lightning jumped from nerve to nerve and her entire body trembled as he thrust, filling her, pushing her to the peak that threatened to consume her entirely.

His head dipped down so that his tongue could lave her nipple and it was the last straw; the coil inside of her snapped and she screamed his name, her walls clenching on him as she bathed him in her hot release. He growled loud and thrust hard a few last times, nearly frantic, and then he too was falling into the storm, his cock twitching inside of her as it shot jet after jet of seed inside of her, marking her indefinitely forever.

With a groan, he fell over her and laid his cheek against her breast, his hand stroking through her sweat drenched auburn curls. Her hands did the same, sliding through the silver-white locks of his hair.

"Hawke?"

With a herculean effort, she opened her eyes to look at him as he pushed himself to his elbows. "Hm?"

"While I appreciate the view...please, don't wear something like that out in public again." He muttered, adverting his gaze.

"Well I can't really. You tore it," she chuckled.

"Good." He dropped his head down and kissed her soundly until she once again lost the ability to think coherently. Not that she wanted it any other way.