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Aveline is the first to make a comment. So, Hawke wins the not-quite-bet they’ve made with Fenris.
The three of them in the Hanged Man are waiting for Varric to finish his business before heading to alienage to pick up Merril and proceed with their next job. Aveline uses the opportunity to talk to him at a distance from Fenris.
The brave Captain of the Kirkwall Guard can barely contain her mirth when sharing an observation: "It's good to see that human-elven relationships in Kirkwall have truly blossomed under you, Hawke."
"Well, I'm glad someone acknowledges my efforts to improve peoples’ co-existence in this city."
"Only a blind person wouldn’t acknowledge the latest ones!"
Hawke's eyes dart to where the familiar taut figure is standing. After all these years of very close attention, he can read the elf’s body language perfectly. Right now, Fenris is masking his nervousness with demonstratively cool pride, and Hawke can't help inwardly feeling a surge of love for the man. Although, his face remains impassive before he turns his attention back to Aveline.
"You know, Aveline, I knew you had that gift of humor in you the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’ve been keeping you in the dark all these years, but it’s actually the reason why I took you with me in the first place."
"So, that’s how it was?" Aveline chuckles. "It had nothing to do with my swordsmanship?"
"Well, it wasn’t a disadvantage. But Kirkwall was still a long way from that darkspawn-infested ridge where we were, and it occurred to me – I better have someone with me who can crack a joke to pass the time."
Aveline gives him a smile, evidently pleased with him complimenting her on something she’s insecure about. Then, she adds pensively:
"Sometimes I forget how far we’ve come from losing everything in Lothering."
Hawke shrugs. “I haven’t found any use in dwelling on those memories.”
Aveline gives him an earnest and gentle, sisterly look.
"You deserve this. And by that I mean you deserve to be happy."
"I agree. And I am."
Then, of course, there is Varrick. Instead of talking to Hawke, he decides to address Fenris when they're already in the stone maze of the narrow city streets. Hawke is leading the way, as always, and hears the voices of his companions behind him reflect off the stone walls of the houses they pass.
"It isn't really my business, but you know that you can use a healing potion for that, right? Or… Oh, I see. Ha-ha. I see."
"Am I supposed to somehow follow your dwarven sense of humor now?"
Fenris is clearly only feigning annoyance, and Hawke smiles to himself. In fact, the elf sounds more amused and smug than anything else.
"You don't want to get rid of it."
This merits no reply. Hawke knows Varric so well that he can feel the dwarf shrug behind his back.
"No judgment from me. Hell, I should actually thank you, serahs, for providing me with illustrative examples. It's astonishing how little people need to assume that two people were just good friends."
"I think you've misspoken," Fenris notes curiously.
"You don't understand the pain that misinterpretation causes the author, elf."
Perhaps it's because she is still very young, but Merril has the least decency to not be blaringly obvious. Her eyebrows are raised the second she sees the bruise on Fenris' neck, strategically positioned not far away from the long, forking white stroke of a lyrium-infused marking. To her merit, she doesn't comment right away and only betrays her surprise by scatteredly asking to repeat what has just been said at her. However, later, when he is kneeling to collect a spinleweed on the path to the northeastern clearing on the Wounded Coast, Hawke catches Merril's exchange with Fenris. At that point, the Dalish mage evidently has already regained her composure - and sounds quite pleased with her quip:
"Does this mark have some special ability attached to it, too?"
"It appears to bring out the jester in certain people," Fenris retors in exasperated tone. Merril chuckles.
"Didn't you want attention to it? Isn't it why people flaunt these things? Or... should I have first congratulated you on your relationship? But you and Hawke have been together for so long now."
Hawke feels the need to intervene.
"Merril, what are the latest Ancient elven history news?"
"Latest news? That's a queer way of putting it. History has already happened!"
"Maybe it shows us that some things can be both old and new at the same time."
Varric whistles.
"A warrior, a lover, and a thinker."
Fourteen hours ago
Hawke is standing by the fire, completely naked, soaking a cloth in a washbasin of warm water on the mantelpiece and using it to refresh himself. He is almost finished by the time Fenris, lying in bed behind him, clears his throat.
"I... I'm afraid I'm exhausted," the elf announces apologetically. "I still want this, but my body is letting me know that I can't do anything else tonight. Judging by the continuing ringing in my ears, I've almost passed out for the last time. You can still... do it between my thighs if you wish, but not otherwise."
"And what would be the fun in that?"
Then, as is their custom, Hawke changes the water in the washbasin and goes to the bed to refresh Fenris as well, immediately drying the washed areas with a towel. He is especially gentle with the lyrium markings, enjoying both the sight and the few contented sighs that Fenris lets out. Having finished with his torso, arms, and legs, Hawke carefully turns him onto his side to continue with his back. Fenris can only thank him.
"Thank you. I am so tired that even lying down feels like a chore." Hawke does not need to see Fenris’ face to know that there is a line of uncertainty between his brows as he ventures to speak again. "I am curious. Did all this happen today because we only cuddled last night?” Fenris’ voice sounds amused and content. “Then I will make sure I never show up from my weekly game on time again."
Hawke takes hold of his thigh and lifts his left leg to make it easier to reach the space between his buttocks. After refreshing it as well, he strokes it lovingly with his thumb. Fenris winces.
"Does it hurt?"
"It’s just… sensitive."
Hawke himself is still very aware of the many sensations in his body, and his groin definitely is a little sore. But that’s not surprising. They closed the door to the bedroom three hours ago.
"I still have a health potion, right here in the chest."
"It will wear off overnight. Besides, I don’t mind the reminder."
"Be careful with that tone," warns Hawke with a smile. "I remember you just saying you couldn’t take any more of my attention tonight."
Fenris laughs, and Hawke works on his nether regions. He finishes by placing the red scarf back on Fenris’ arm, which he only takes off when they do it, and is always especially pleased when Hawke is the one to return it into its place. And so, this time, too, Fenris, who is already under the heavy blanket, watches the symbol of Hawke's favor return to him and then smiles at him with such deep devotion in his eyes that Hawke feels his heart ache.
"Thank you for your care, Hawke. I am exceedingly comfortable. But is there a reason why you did not answer my question?"
Hawke sighs.
"It was hopeless to think that you would not notice, was it? Very well. I haven't found an elegant way to phrase it, so I will simply say it. I want to leave a hickey on you, somewhere where it will be visible."
During the next few seconds Fenris looks like he is not entirely sure whether he has accidentally fallen asleep. He answers with caution, but, to Hawke’s relief, without discomfort.
"This is unexpected."
"Not at all. I've wanted to do this for years, even on our first night together. But in the end, you had a better idea," Hawke nods at the red scarf on the elf's forearm.
After his words, Fenris looks even more surprised, and also obviously embarrassed, as if they hadn't been doing what they hadn't been doing just recently. The elf clears his throat and asks:
"What... what has reminded you of it now?.."
"I would look too ridiculous if I said it was that mercenary's comment, wouldn't I?"
Fenris laughs.
"I wouldn't have even remembered her. Now, however, I will remember her with gratitude for tonight."
Hawke shakes his head with an embarrassed grin.
"I hope you don't think that I have perverted tastes now."
“Nothing could make me think less of you, Hawke," Fenris says with gravitas, touching his cheek. The elf looks away before raising his brows and awkwardly continuing, “And since you've made the offer… the allure of the idea hasn't escaped me either. I must admit having thought about it quite a few times myself.”
And that is all the invitation Hawke needs. He joins Fenris under the blanket, and within moments they are sharing a warm and cozy embrace. After a few kisses and caresses, Hawke prompts Fenris to turn back onto his side, his back to him — the Champion of Kirkwall simply does not trust himself to act restrainedly if he will find himself on top of him again. Hawke wraps his arms under the elf’s stomach and chest and brushes his nose along the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin and slowly covering it with kisses, trying not to pay too much attention to the way Fenris’ breathing momentarily hitches under his ministrations, lest he loses sight of his original intent. Hawke chooses a spot a little away from the lyrium mark, where the skin above the armor will be visible to others.
"Tell me if it'll be too uncomfortable."
"Is it already visible?"
Hawke, who has been falling asleep, comes back to his senses and takes a look the elf's neck.
"I think so."
"Well. I can definitely feel it burning on me." Fenris sounds excited and secretly happy - apparently, his sleep has fled from him. "What do you think they'll say?"
There is no need to clarify who he is talking about. Hawke yawns into his palm.
"All I know is that Aveline will comment first."
Fenris turns to him.
"Hmm. Interesting. My thoughts went to Varric."
Hawke sleepily strokes Fenris' chin with his thumb.
"Oh, he will notice from afar, but he is patient and he knows he has a reputation for being a quipster. So he’ll consider the best comment and wait for the right moment... And Aveline — you’ll see. She doesn’t often dare to make jokes, so I’m sure she’ll jump at this opportunity as if it were an unfortunate thug in the middle of Hightown at night."
Fenris chuckles.
"You know your friends well."
"As they know me. Besides, is it really that surprising? I've chosen you all. In a way, I still choose you every day."
"That’s a very... poetic way of looking at the world. I like it."
Fenris sounds touched, and Hawke relishes in the fact that he can make him feel this way. That he can share the thoughts of a free man with him, and that over time Fenris has become able to fully share them with him.
"Did you think all those books on the shelves are there to impress people?"
"Not since I learned you never have visitors here."
"I only need one," Hawke replies with a smile before Fenris pulls him in for a kiss.