Disclaimer: Not making a profit, just having fun.
A minifill for a prompt that asked for cuddles and fluff. This is the result of an attempt.
A Silly Thing
Usually, Isabela thought, this was the part when she would dress up, leave, and then move on to another person until she somehow found her way back to Hawke. But that was three years ago, before it all got complicated, before Hawke fought the Arishok for her and almost died, before Hawke let Castillon walk away just so she could have her ship, and before she said the words, 'I think I'm falling for you,' to Hawke.
That, she realized, was easy compared to her current dilemma. They had just... fucked? Had sex? Made love? Balls, she didn't know what to call it, but whatever it was, it had been the best she had in a while. Except now that it was over - and it was late and they were both too tired to go again - she didn't know what to do.
Was she still supposed to leave?
A part of her, the same scary, stupid part of her where all these feelings seemed to come from, wanted to stay, wished that Hawke would ask her to. She must have been pitifully obvious about it because the next second, Hawke was talking.
"So, Isabela," came the chipper but obviously nervous start. "We're clearly done for the night and you're still here, nice and naked in my bed. Would it be premature of me to assume that you are finally considering taking advantage of my hospitality?"
It wasn't what Isabela was expecting to hear - it never was, with Hawke - but there it was, the question she had been hoping to hear, and it had her giddy and giggling.
"Why not?" she said, trying to ignore the quiver in her voice. "I've already taken advantage of the rest of you."
Hawke smiled crookedly, and Isabela thought it was adorable.
"All right. That's good. I mean, I'm happy- I'm glad to have you spend the night, that is. Do you, ah," the Champion stuttered, which Isabela found to be utterly endearing. "Do you want to sleep here, or should I have Bodahn ready one of the guest rooms?"
There it was again, Hawke trying to give her a way out, a chance to walk away from the awkwardness and fumbling that was sure to come. She had no idea how to do it tonight, but someday, Isabela resolved, she would get it through that thick Champion head of Hawke's that she wanted this, awkwardness and fumbling and all.
"It's a big bed, sweet thing," she cooed, sweeping a hand over the large, empty space to her left. "We can manage to squeeze in it, don't you think? Or was that your way of telling me you hog the bed?"
Hawke blushed furiously.
"I don't hog the bed," the Champion mumbled, sounding almost petulant. "My dog usually takes up most of the space. Don't worry, though, I have the sheets changed every day. I love that smelly beast, but Maker, does he smell."
"Your dog?" Isabela asked, amused. "I thought you hated having him on the bed. I remember you complaining about paw prints on your sheets."
Hawke rubbed the back of her neck, laughing nervously.
"Yes, I used to, but ever since Mother died, I can only seem to sleep when he's close by."
"Oh," Isabela said lamely, when she should have maybe hugged Hawke, or held her hand or said something just as unhelpful like, 'I'm sorry your mother was murdered by a crazy blood mage three years ago and all I did was sit next to you and talk about my own mother. Do you want to have that comfort sex I should have given you then? For you, I'll go one more time.'
No, that wouldn't work.
"I still scold him if his paws are dirty, though," Hawke hastily added, covering it up with a forced, shaky chuckle.
Isabela put her hand on Hawke's knee, somehow effectively silencing the Champion.
"Hawke, if you need that beast in here, call him," she assured, soothingly stroking Hawke's leg and wondering - dreading - if she was turning out to be the more stable one in the relationship. "I can scoot over, and if we all don't fit, then a guest room will be fine."
Hawke placed a hand over hers.
"You don't have to do that, 'Bela," the Champion told her with a smile that didn't quite reach her blue eyes. "That was a long time ago. A large enough pillow would suffice these days."
Or a pillow shaped like a person, Isabela wanted to say. Or an actual person. Like me. You know, your lover, who's right here, in your bed, naked.
"All right," she said instead, and by the time she regretted it enough to want to take it back, Hawke was on one side of the bed and she was on the other, both of them already drifting off to sleep.
Isabela woke up a few hours later with an intense and rather uncomfortable need to go to the privy, but even that was set aside when she realized that not only had she managed to roll to Hawke's side of the bed some time that night, she apparently rolled right into Hawke's arms. Arms that, she realized even quicker, felt really good around her.
What also felt good - downright hypnotic even - was being so close to Hawke that she could feel her lover's slow, steady breathing. It was almost enough to lull her back to sleep. Almost. She really had to go, and soon.
Carefully, she tried wiggle out of the tight embrace, not wanting to wake Hawke. She managed to be free of the arm on her waist, but when she tried to slip off the arm around her shoulders, Hawke stirred and opened her eyes.
"'Bela...?" Hawke mumbled, confused and sleepy.
"Hey, sweet thing," she greeted softly. "Sorry, I was trying not to wake you. Quite a light sleeper, aren't you?"
"Why are you-" Hawke started to say, then, like her, realized what kind of position they were in. "Oh. How did this happen? Where's the pillow that I was...?"
Not finishing the question, Hawke looked around and found said pillow on the floor. When Isabela looked as well, she, for some reason, suddenly remembered grabbing and tossing the pillow aside before she happily snuggled up to Hawke.
Did she really do that?
And why did she feel so happy about it, like she had just won a duel?
A dream, she decided. It had to be.
"I must have grabbed you in my sleep," Hawke said, "thought maybe you were my dog."
"Hawke," Isabela drawled, "if you grab your dog like this, then... well, I don't know whether to be disturbed or jealous. Not that I would be jealous," she immediately followed up, "because what a silly thing to be jealous about, really. Or to be jealous at all, in fact. What a silly thing."
"Yes, what a silly thing," Hawke agreed, laughing.
If Isabela had noticed that both of Hawke's strong arms were wrapped around her again, she certainly didn't say anything, and Hawke certainly didn't say anything about Isabela snuggling closer and nuzzling her. It was all very nice and sweet and comfortable, and Isabela felt absolutely terrible for having to ruin it.
"I really need to take a piss."
"Oh," Hawke said, eloquent as ever, and reluctantly began to let go. "You, ah, know where to go?"
Isabela slowly sat up and patted Hawke's arm.
"Don't worry, sweet thing. I know my way around."
When she came back, Hawke had already gone back to sleep, hugging that damnable pillow again. Isabela sat on her side, wondering if she should just turn in for the night.
"Oh, sod it," she muttered, crawling over to Hawke and yanking the pillow away, startling her lover awake.
Isabela huffed and tossed the pillow back on the floor, then took its place beside Hawke. She guided one of Hawke's arms around her waist and buried her face in Hawke's neck.
"Go back to sleep, Hawke," she murmured.
Hawke made a happy sound and pulled her closer. Isabela smiled and closed her eyes, and they were both asleep in no time.