I have a prompt idea I’d like to suggest please? Fluffy and fun Fenhawke with either Bethany or Carver doing the normal sibling thing and threating Fenris with whatever if he hurts Hawke

jawsandbones:

I fully admit that I love the shit out of Carver. I think he’s the bee’s knees. I think he’s the one more willing to actually threaten as well. I think Bethany is more, you don’t know bad things are going to happen until they’re happening to you and she’s got a deadly little grin. Thank you so much for the prompt @noonewouldlisten25! I hope you enjoy and like! (◕‿◕✿)


“If you hurt her, I’ll shove
those spiky gauntlets of yours up your ass.” Fenris chokes into his drink. He
comes up coughing, pounding a fist to his chest.

“Excuse me?” He asks this
hoarsely, to an unconcerned Carver. It was rare that Carver ever got permission
to leave the Gallows. When he did, it was straight to the Hanged Man
immediately, to drink until they couldn’t stand. The others were yelling,
throwing down cards and coin, winners screaming bloody victory, losers sulking
into their ale. Somehow, Sebastian had swept a win out from under Isabela, and
Hawke had her head thrown back viciously laughing at Isabela’s disbelief.

“We may not get along, but she
is my sister, and if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you right back,” Carver says,
sipping at his drink. Fenris is by no means scared of the young pup, but Carver
did make an authoritative figure in his Templar uniform.

“Hawke is more than capable of
defending herself,” Fenris huffs.

“You weren’t there to see her
break. What you did three years ago. That changed her. It still follows her.” It’s
hard to see the change. If you’re not looking, you don’t see it at all. The way
her laughter dies just a little before everyone else’s. Wanting to watch,
rather than participate. She tends to her flock even more carefully than
before. Privately, Fenris sees the change keenly. He waits in bed for her to
rise, now. The one time he got up to make breakfast for her, she had come
flying down in a panic, scared that he had left her once again.

“I am… aware,” Fenris says
quietly as he grips at the mug.

“So, if you hurt her again, I’ll
make sure you leave Kirkwall and never come back.” On his own, Carver would not
be able to come close to him. With his friends in the Templars? More problematic.
Not that he was seriously considering that ever being a possibility.

“I would never – she is, to me,
the most – important – Hawke is, I
mean – I am in –”

“Alright, alright, don’t hurt
yourself,” Carver’s slap to his back is no doubt meant to be friendly and
jovial, but it nearly launches Fenris right out of his seat.

“We all know how you feel about
her. You’re shit at hiding it,” Carver says, still laughing at Fenris’s
expression. Fenris is still gripping his mug, somehow gripping it tighter, and
looking over at Hawke. She’s chuckling, shuffling a deck of cards in her hands,
face flushed with happiness and the warm embrace of alcohol. Always, always,
she is so beautiful and Fenris feels
his own face heat up. He hears another chuckle from Carver.

“I told you. Shit at hiding it,”
he says, downing the rest of his drink. He flags down the waitress, ordering
more and more from both himself and Fenris, forcing the elf to drink. Fenris
knows his limits, knows when to stop. Today, he does not. He matches Carver
drink for drink, feeling the need to prove… something? As if drinking with him
will show that he is worthy of Hawke.

Later, Hawke has her arm around
his waist, Carver’s arm as well, and the Hawke siblings are dragging him back
to Hightown. Halfway there he pukes, then turns to Hawke saying fiercely, “I am
yours,” and promptly proceeds to pass
out. Carver roars with laughter as he throws the elf over his shoulder, Hawke
completely mystified as to how Carver ever managed to convince him to drink
that much. Her cheeks are red though, and she wears a pleased smile.

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