Rating: PG

Summary: He does it just to annoy Fenris.

Genre: Romance, Humor

Characters: Fable Hawke/Fenris

A/N: Meet Fable Hawke. He's not unlike Sherwood, just- not a mage. And quite a bit more charming. Fable is my mostly-snarky, semi-diplomatic rogue rivalmance of Fenris.

He knew Fable was a flirt. They all knew it; hell, everyone knew that. Varric made it a point in his stories, in fact, playing it up for humor. But just because he knew Fable liked to tease and flirt did not mean that he took any kinder to it. He'd learned, after a few months, that it was just- the way he was.

"Will you stop brooding at me?"

Learned, after a few months, that Fable was loyal and faithful and would never stray. In all the time they'd had of theirs...he'd never so much as touched anyone else. Well, before, when they were still just flirting and flitting around each other, of course, but since that first kiss, since that night after Hadriana...Fable hadn't laid hand on anyone.

In three years' time.

Oh, the occasional whore, of course. That one elf, in the Blooming Rose, the one that had been so fond of Nanette, became frequently visited, and in truth a good friend. The two had been seen often drinking together or simply wandering around town side-by-side, sometimes with Isabella or Varric, looking for trouble. But aside from him (and he was, in the end, still a whore), there was no one.

"I am not brooding."

"Sulking at me then. I didn't ask her to kiss me, Fenris."

It should have been enough proof, really. And it was- truly, Fenris trusted Hawke. He did. It would have been pure foolishness not to trust a man who hadn't walked away after three years. He'd tried, occasionally, to speak to Fenris about it. Typically, Fable had all the patience of a Marbari on the hunt, and so he'd restrained himself rather well waiting for an entire month before breeching the subject. Fenris had chased him off the scent then, and again and again. And despite his desire for the man to let it go, it had stung when he'd finally stopped trying.

"You certainly weren't fighting her."

"It's not like she was raping me under the table! It was a thank you kiss, what was I supposed to do, slap her in defense of my honor?"

He'd expected Hawke to run to Anders. It was no secret that the abomination desired his Fable, and had from day one. It was hard to say if Fable returned his feelings, or if he was just Hawke being Hawke. He did think of Anders as a good friend, though, and the two had been close almost from the moment they'd met. So, serious or just as comfort, he'd been waiting for it. But no. No rebound. No relationship between them. Fable had, so far as Hawke could tell, even stopped flirting with him; though that was very likely to keep Anders from getting the wrong idea. He liked to play, but he was careful about honestly hurting anyone.

"That would be a good start."

"Leto, for the Maker's sake-"

And then, three years later, there he'd been, in Fenris's home, coy and laughing as ever. And just like that, so easily, he'd forgiven. Accepted. Later, after their... official reunion...he'd told Fenris simply, honestly, that he loved him. Loved him, period, with all his spines and quirks, even though they butted heads often, fought loudly, had nearly come to blows- loved him. That- and no offense, Fenris, don't take this the wrong way- that it was like taming a wolf. You had to be patient, and let it come to you. I knew you'd come back. I always knew; it was just a matter of when.

"Don't Leto me, like a mother with a child. You are younger then I am, Hawke, and I have every right to be annoyed at you."

"Fine then. Fenris, yank your head out of your ass and put your spines away, you're acting like an idiot. Is that better?"

"Excuse me for stepping in to claim what is mine."

"...Yours, hu?"

The return must have brought some sense of security back to Hawke, because it wasn't long before he was his old self. He stopped going to the elf in the blooming rose for sex, but they stayed friends, and flirted shamelessly with each other. Isabella and Hawke made endless sexual comments to each other, and it wasn't unusual for them to share a kiss. (Usually a peck on the lips or cheek; the first time, Fenris had exploded, but had since come to see it for what it was.) He even flirted with the abomination again, slightly, but lately it was more to try to get him to smile or laugh. To act like himself, and even Fenris was concerned with the mage's behavior. He was an idiot, and dangerous, but kind and loyal and, when they weren't arguing, entertaining conversation.

The mage was a moron, but that didn't mean he wanted him dead. Just. Stopped. Before he hurt someone else. Before he hurt Fable.

"Yes, mine."

"You know, if I tried to claim ownership of you you'd gut me like a fish. But you own me, is that it? I'm yours, and no one else's?"

"No one else's. Hawke, do not play word games with me. If you wish to-"

"To what?"

"To end this-"

"Don't be a dumbass. Of course I don't. I didn't say I minded being yours. I just found it amusing. Kind of ironic."

"...I would not mind you laying claim to me, Fable. Whatever you think. I have said it before, and I will again. I am yours."

It had started like that. And then Tallis had shown up, and the two had hit it off like they'd been best friends for years. Hawke was helping a Qunari, and flirting non-stop with her while he did it. Back and forth banter and-

"...Hawke. Why are you smirking at me like that?"

"I'm smirking? I thought this was just my face's natural expression."

"Fable Sampson Hawke-"

"Oooh, I'm in trouble. Gonna spank me?"

-and Hawke. Smirking at. And watching him. The entire. Oh.


"You are doing this deliberately."

"Doing what?"

"Annoying me. Flirting with everyone in sight to get a rise out of me-"

"I'll get a rise out of you, alright-"

"Because you get some kind of sick-"

"Oh, come on, Fenris. You're hot when you're all growly-possessive. You're hot anyway. But the whole marking-my-territory you-belong-to-me thing? Nnngh. Almost as hot as the declarations of loya- mmph!"

"Put that mouth of yours to better use."

He knew Fable was a flirt. They all knew it; hell, everyone knew that. Varric made it a point in his stories, in fact, playing it up for humor. But just because he knew Fable liked to tease and flirt did not mean that he wasted any time reminding him who he really belonged to.

And they both took pretty damn kindly to that.