A/N: Quick silly little thing inspired by some artwork drawn by Ryuchifoxe (on Tumblr, links in my profile) and a request from a dear friend. I'm not sure this is what they wanted, but...it's what happened. I blame Anders.

Hawke was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He'd had a bad feeling about the trip up Sundermount in the first place, but everything had gone so much worse than even he could have imagined. And even a long soak and a half a bottle of wine hadn't been enough to release any of the tension in his shoulders—or the ache in his chest over Merrill dismissing his apologies.

The moment Anders returned from his clinic and asked how the trip had gone, Hawke started talking and hadn't stopped. He sat on the bed while Anders scrubbed a days' worth of Darktown grime from his face in the connected bathroom.

"Maybe I didn't need to call her out on her blood magic right then, but was just trying to avoid more bloodshed at that point. Angry Merrill is not fun Merrill. The look on her face as we left the camp…I thought she was mad when I didn't give her the Arulin'Holm, but this was so much—Anders?"

"Hmm?" Anders's voice drifted from the bathroom, a small splash of water in the background. "I'm listening, Hawke."

"No, that's not—Anders, why is there a cat on my bed?" Hawke frowned as he watched the orange tabby cautiously approach his knee and sniff him. He hadn't noticed it anywhere in the estate until it jumped up to the bed in the middle of his sentence.

Anders popped his head around the doorway and smiled.

"That's Terezi the Red."

"What is it doing, and how did it get here?"

"Terezi," Anders corrected. "And I brought her here from the clinic. You do remember telling me I could, don't you?"

Hawke looked down at the cat again, who had crossed in front of him and was investigating his other knee.

"Was this something I told you at the Hanged Man after a few pints too many? Because you know my word is no good when I've been drinking with Varric."

And then Anders made that face, with his eyebrows drawn together and his head tilted to one side.

"You're not going to make me take her back, are you?"

Hawke had a feeling he'd been set up. But he had a hard time saying no to that particular face.

"No," he sighed. "She can stay. But I take no responsibility for anything Fang does to her."

Anders grinned. "Don't worry. They're already best friends." And he ducked back into the bathroom.

Hawke reached a hand out to the cat and tentatively scratched the top of her head. She arched into him and made a soft chirping noise. He scratched his fingers along her spine, hoping to hear the same sound, but got a loud purr instead.

"So Merrill's upset that you didn't kill her former clan?" Anders prompted from the other side of the wall.

"More than upset," Hawke said. He continued to idly rake his fingers through Terezi's fur and listened to her purr as he spoke. "I didn't even know she was capable of being that angry. I tried to explain, I tried to apologize, and she wouldn't even listen. And I'm not sure she'll forgive me after—Anders. There's another one."

Both Terezi and the new cat, a lanky grey and white thing, flinched at the crash from the bathroom.

There was a beat of utter silence before Anders stammered out, "A-another what?"

Hawke narrowed his eyes at the bathroom wall. Anders's head did not appear in the doorway this time.

"Cat," Hawke said. "There is a grey cat on the bed now."

"Oh…that would be Prince Eridan."

"I see," Hawke said through clenched teeth. Prince Eridan sat next to him and looked up expectantly. "So you brought more than one cat home?"

"Yes?"

Hawke rolled his eyes at Anders's hesitant response. The cats were already here, and two couldn't be much more trouble than one. Plus, it wasn't like he could make Anders take one back but not the other. That would be cruel. And even if he was annoyed, he wasn't cruel. Merrill might disagree though.

"Okay," Hawke said, shaking his head. He frowned at the two cats sitting next to him. Terezi was sniffing him again. "You're lucky I love that man," he whispered to Prince Eridan. The grey cat just blinked at him and wandered off to investigate the other side of the bed.

"Back to Merrill," Anders called from the bathroom, a noticeable hint of relief in his voice. He was obviously picking up whatever he had dropped earlier, muffled clinking noises replacing the earlier splashing.

"Right," Hawke sighed. "So Merrill hates me. She—"

Hawke was about to repeat Merrill's exact words to him when he left her in front of her home, when another cat appeared on the bed next to him. Hawke gaped at the black cat, so thoroughly mystified by its sudden appearance that he didn't even notice Terezi stop sniffing and climb into his lap. The black cat, oblivious to Hawke's current distress, sauntered over, sat down in front of him, and meowed. That snapped Hawke out of his daze.

"Andraste's tits, Anders. How many did you bring home? And what is this one doing to me?"

Anders reappeared in the doorway, took one look at the scene in front of him, and let out a laugh.

"You're really not a cat person, are you, Hawke?"

"No," Hawke scowled. "I'm not. I'm Fereldan. We have mabaris. Fang would swallow each of these things whole and still want dinner. And you didn't answer my questions."

Anders leaned casually against the doorframe, grinning. "Just the three. And I'm pretty sure that Terezi is intending on taking a nap in your lap."

Hawke looked down at the orange tabby, who was, in fact, curled up and purring, looking as content as a well-fed wyvern. Prince Eridan had returned to Hawke's side, and the black cat let out another, louder, meow. Hawke looked back up at Anders.

"I don't like cats," he said.

"They know that," Anders said, still grinning. "Cats are smart. They sense when people don't like them, and they try to win you over will their cuteness."

Hawke just arched an eyebrow, and Anders continued, "Once they've convinced you, they'll ignore you until they want something. Then they'll sit on your head."

"Brilliant," Hawke replied. "And you're sure I agreed to this?"

Anders nodded. But he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

"I couldn't take one and leave the others behind. You know what happens to cats down there."

Hawke did know. And he wouldn't admit it, but Terezi's purr was oddly comforting. He glanced down at the black cat before turning back to Anders.

"If Fang can't share the bed with us, neither can these three."

"Good luck telling them that," Anders snorted. Then he crossed the room and sat next to Hawke, shooing Prince Eridan to Hawke's other side. "You did the right thing, love. I'm sure Merrill will forgive you eventually, once she sees that."

Anders draped an arm around Hawke's shoulder, and Hawke, more than grateful for the comfort, sagged into him with a long sigh.

"Maybe you're right." He reached out cautiously to scratch the black cat behind the ear. "What's this one's name?"

"I don't know," Anders answered. "I thought I'd give you the honor."

Hawke studied the black cat for a moment; the cat studied him right back.

"Dave," he said finally. "I think I'll call it Dave."

Anders scrunched up his nose. "You can't name a cat 'Dave.'"

"Why not?" Hawke arched an eyebrow at Anders. "Would you rather I name him Mistress Lulu Bell of Orlais or something?"

"No," Anders laughed. "Definitely not. I don't think I would trust a cat named Lulu Bell, Orlesian or not."

"Well then," Hawke smiled, giving the black cat another scratch, "Your name is Dave."

"Ah, yes," Anders laughed. "The Champion's loyal and fierce companions, Fang and Dave. Their names alone cause Templars across Thedas to shake in their skirts."

Hawke shook his head and, carefully so he didn't disturb Terezi, leaned in and pressed a kiss to Anders's temple.

"Well, the noble title of Ser Pounce-a-lot was taken, wasn't it? But when Dave kills his first Genlock, we can knight him, too."