A loud groan reverberated down the halls of the Hawke Estate.
“Why does the Maker hate me?” Hawke asked her ceiling as she draped an arm over her eyes. The lighting was much too harsh in her current state, even with only a few candles being lit. Off to her right, Anders chuckled lightly.
“Maybe he’s punishing you for reading all of those dirty stories Isabela gives you,” he chided, the corners of his lips forming a sly grin.
“Oh, shut up,” Hawke muttered, taking a half-hearted swipe of her hand in Anders’ direction. He made his way over to her then, wet cloth in hand, his grin replaced by a smile. He proceeded to cool the cloth as they sat in silence.
“You know, I never get sick,” Hawke told him, her arm still draped haphazardly over her head. “The last time I was sick was when I was about ten. Pretty good at evading any sickness until now.” Her bottom lip stuck out in a childish pout as she looked back on her triumphs over sickness.
Anders grinned. “The common cold can find even the stealthiest of rogues, sweetheart,” the mage told her, ringing out the rag once more before placing it on Hawke’s forehead. A contented sigh rumbled through her as the cold touched her warm skin.
Another bout of silence passed before Hawke turned to Anders, making sure to keep the cloth on her skin. He’d worked his way back over to his small work station and was drying his hands.
“You’re a mage,” she said plainly, and Anders turned to give her an incredulous look.
“Why, I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for telling me, miss.” Hawke’s eyebrows narrowed as she continued her train of thought.
“No, what I meant to say is that since you’re a mage, shouldn’t you be able to make this go away? Poof?” He gave a light-hearted chuckle at her hand motion, which had been partnered with her last word.
“You know I would have if it were possible, but some things even magic can’t do. Curing the common cold is one of them.” The bed dipped as Anders sat down beside Hawke, her pout having reappeared again.
“That’s no use,” she murmured. Piping up again, she looked up at him and asked, “So what else can’t magic do?”
Anders thought about her question for a moment before replying. “Well, getting someone to love you is one. Love potions don’t do a damned thing.”
Hawke’s eyebrow quirked up at that.
“Are you entirely certain about that? Because I’m fairly sure you’ve been slipping me love potions ever since you began traveling with me.” Anders laughed softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling at his genuine amusement.
“A mage never tells his secrets.” He answered, winking in Hawke’s direction. She hummed contentedly and closed her eyes. Shuffling a bit, Hawke worked her way into the crevice between herself and her lover. Anders took the opportunity to touch her, placing a lean hand onto her chin and delicately tracing her lips and chin with his thumb. Hawke voiced her pleased state by humming a bit more, kissing his rough digit once as it passed over her lips.
“Now, go to sleep. Kirkwall needs it’s champion well before another Qunari ship arrives,” he said, his thumb rubbing her chin once more before wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“Champion Schmampion,” Hawke muttered, closing her eyes and placing her head in Anders’ lap. Before long, she was sleeping blissfully, Anders watching her as she slept.