Slipping out of bed was made difficult by the fact that Hawke had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder and her arm stretched across his chest, but Fenris managed to inch out from beneath her without jostling her too much. As his bare feet touched the floor, Hawke mumbled in her sleep and scratched her nose, making him freeze in place nervously. She did not open her eyes, however, moving only to hug the pillow and sink her face into it.

When she was sleeping, Hawke looked different; all tousled hair and tangled limbs. Certainly not the image that came to mind when one thought "Champion". "Cute" was perhaps the most appropriate word, even though Fenris wouldn't be caught dead using it.

The bed did not suit him. After years of sleeping on floors and doorsteps, or hidden away in haylofts or caves, he found the strange lack of rigidity too distracting. Ever since his escape, he'd gotten into the habit of sleeping behind doors, always ready for intruders. But now, with his master dead and far less likely to show up at the mansion, Fenris indulged himself and stretched out in front of the fireplace, covering himself only with a sheet he'd managed to take off the bed without waking Hawke.

The fire crackled low and Fenris basked in the little heat it gave off. After all these years, he'd only just barely gotten used to the southern climate, and even though he was no stranger to discomfort, he still disliked the cold.

He was close to drifting to sleep when the slightest sound jarred him back to wakefulness. He raised his head, tensing in preparation for an intruder—and relaxed again soon after. With the blanket around her shoulders, Hawke looked down on him. Her eyes were wide open, and in the flickering firelight, she looked much like a frightened child.

"Hawke," he said, uncertain. "Is something wrong?"

He felt rather silly now, stretched out on the floor. It probably seemed terribly odd that he would leave the warm bed of a beautiful woman for the floor of a decrepit room. What must she think of him?

"I thought you... left," she answered low.

Fenris bit back a grimace. He'd certainly set a bad precedent, hadn't he?

"No, I... I'm sorry. It's... I'm not in the habit of sleeping in beds," he explained haltingly.

"Oh..." She blinked, but did not offer an opinion on this matter.

"You can go back to sleep," Fenris said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Me neither," Hawke replied.

She laid down next to him and shifted the blanket off her shoulders to cover him as well, then managed to insinuate herself under his sheet, pressing the length of her body against his.

"The bed is probably more comfortable," Fenris said as she nuzzled his shoulder.

"The bed doesn't have you in it," she muttered, planting light kisses in the crook of his neck. The gesture, though innocent, sent pleasant waves of heat through Fenris' body.

"Still, you don't have to... accommodate for my eccentricities."

"Shh, go to sleep," she said, settling herself. "Unless there's something else you'd rather do." He could just senseher grinning on that last sentence.

In one fluid gesture, he was above her, thankful that she was still very much naked.

"Do you have any suggestions?" he growled.

She laughed and nipped at his shoulder in what could only be interpreted as a challenge.

Later, as she lazily traced the markings on Fenris' chest, and he played with a lock of her hair, twining it around his fingers, she burst into a low bout of laughter.

"You know, this might be for the best," she said at his puzzled look. "When we were little, I once accidentally pushed Bethany out of bed in my sleep."

He laughed too, a long, hysterical sound that lasted longer than it should have. She gave only a chuckle or too and waited for him to finish.

"I suppose you'd have to be careful I don't push you into the fire," she added, gesturing vaguely to the fireplace.

"It would be a small price to pay," he whispered and kissed her forehead. "Thank you. For giving up the bed."

"There's nothing we can do in bed that the floor isn't good for as well," she replied.