Disclaimer: Not making a profit, just having fun.

A minifill for a prompt in the kink meme that requested for any kind of f!preg. The term is rather uncommon, I think, and strange to most, but it means what it means, that one female character is pregnant and the father is another female character. I never really thought Isabela was the motherly sort (or the pregnant sort, to be specific), but as soon as I saw the prompt, this happened.

Again, like the summary says, I didn't explain why or how F!Hawke is the daddy since it didn't seem necessary to bother with an explanation for something so short and pretty much crack. I also kept it vague so it may be linked to my other fic. Whether or not it really is, though, is up to the reader.

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Shiny, Like Treasure

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"Now that," Isabela purred as she snuggled up to Hawke, "is my idea of a good morning."

"Oh, yes," Hawke agreed, "breakfast in bed, sex in bed-"

"- and on the floor," Isabela helpfully supplied, "then on the desk, against the wardrobe..."

"- Bethany and Merrill seeing your naked ass in the air."

"Bethany and Merrill seeing my naked ass in the- wait, you mean that really happened? I thought I was imagining things!"

"That's quite an imagination you have, love," Hawke drawled, leering at her.

"Oh, stop it," Isabela chided, gently smacking the arm that was around her waist. "If this causes a mutiny, it's your fault."

"Mutiny? Bethany and Merrill aren't men, love," Hawke reminded her as if she had forgotten, all the while soothingly rubbing her back. "Merrill would probably just ask if you believe in the Maker now, what with you screaming, 'Maker, yes! Oh, Maker! Maker, yes, yes, yes!' and... did you just pinch me? But, yes, what was I saying? Ah, and my poor, dear sister is more likely attempting to burn that image out of her mind. Not literally, I hope- ow! You pinched me!"

"I did," Isabela said, absolutely unapologetic, and pinched the warrior again for good measure. "It's too early for your jokes, sweet thing."

Hawke pouted, rubbing at the sore area on her arm.

"But you love my jokes."

"It's too early for your love, as well."

"Too early?" Hawke chuckled. "Darling, if you recall, you were violating me in my sleep and when I finally woke up, you said, 'About time, now fuck me.'"

Isabela scoffed, not amused. In fact, she was a bit miffed, and getting even more by the second.

"A woman has needs. A pregnant woman, especially," she sniped, glaring at her now grinning lover, "and as the father of my child, you will fulfill each and every one of those needs-"

"- with pleasure," Hawke finished for her, then pulled her into a sweet, loving kiss that made her giddy with happiness and excitement and all these other mushy, tender feelings and damn it, why was she miffed again?

Next thing she knew, she had her head on Hawke's chest - those breasts felt so much nicer than the pillows - and Hawke was rubbing her back again, petting her as though she were a cat.

"It's still strange," Hawke murmured.

"What is?" she asked softly.

"You saying I'm a father. That's not really something every woman can say."

Isabela laughed and placed a kissed just above Hawke's breast.

"Well, you're not just any woman. You're shiny."

"Shiny?"

"Yes, shiny. Like treasure."

"Ahh," Hawke droned, "it all makes sense now."

Isabela would have preened, but she didn't really feel like moving.

"You goose," she mumbled instead, "took you long enough."

She was about to fall asleep when Hawke's hand slipped from her back and ended up on her stomach, particularly at the very slight swell there. She sighed.

"It's starting to show, isn't it?"

"A little."

Despite the short, quiet answer, Isabela could hear the pride and affection in Hawke's voice. It was infectious - it must have been - because now she felt that way, too.

"Pretty soon my blouse won't fit," she grumbled, or pretended to.

"The next time we dock, we'll shop for new clothes," Hawke promised.

"You'll let me have any outfit I want?" Isabela asked, smirking.

Hawke kissed her brow.

"Of course. Even if it's Orlesian."

Isabela smiled and snuggled closer.

"And maybe some pants," Hawke added.

And just like that, Isabela wasn't smiling anymore, and she didn't feel like cuddling anymore, either. With a well-placed, well-executed kick, Hawke's pretty ass - and the rest of her - was abruptly removed from the bed.

"Balls!" Hawke cursed, and Isabela would have been so proud if she wasn't so very, very angry.

After more cursing and some fidgeting, Hawke sprang right up.

"What in blazes was that for, Isabela?" the warrior demanded.

And that just made Isabela even angrier because, how dare she? The nerve!

"You!" she howled, flinging a pillow at Hawke. "You did this!"

Hawke ducked just in time, but didn't expect the three other pillows that followed, each of which hit her square in the face. She was about to speak again when something grazed her ear and zipped past her.

"Maker's breath, Isabela! Did you just throw a dagger at me?"

The response came in the form of another dagger, which Hawke had to duck this time.

"Hey, that one had poison!" the warrior squawked, getting up and starting to climb back on the bed. "What did I do? What did I say? Is it because I said we'd get you pants?"

Two more daggers came flying, forcing Hawke to scramble back to the floor.

"Andraste, 'Bela, just how many daggers do you have? Where are you even getting those?"

"It's not funny!" Isabela spat, flinging another two at Hawke. "I wouldn't need pants or new blouses and dresses if we didn't... if I didn't- this is your fault!"

Then, it was quiet, and then Hawke looked at her - no more jokes, those blue eyes told her - and in the softest, kindest voice, the warrior asked, "What's my fault?"

"This-this...!" Isabela snarled, trying in vain to hold onto to her quickly fading rage. "This... change," she whispered, kind of wishing Hawke had not heard.

Hawke gingerly sat on the bed. Isabela tossed aside her next set of poison-tipped daggers, not wanting to fight anymore.

"It's too much. Too fast," she muttered, refusing to look at Hawke and refusing give into the urge to hug herself.

She tried to blink back the tears. Maker, being pregnant was confusing. One minute she felt like giggling, the next she wanted to murder her lover, and now she just wanted to curl up and cry because, damn it, she couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop telling the truth.

"I don't know if I'll be ready, or if I'll be good enough when the time comes, and I..." she faltered, almost looked at Hawke. "I want to be."

Hawke crawled over to her and placed a hand on her arm, and Isabela was thankful for that, that Hawke didn't sweep her into an embrace, didn't make her feel weak or incapable.

"You know, 'Bela," the warrior murmured sweetly, charming smile in place, "you don't have to wear pants."

That, Isabela thought, had to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her.

"You could wear a dress, or whatever is comfortable," Hawke went on, as if Isabela wasn't even more in love with her already. "Or," the warrior purred, pressing a hand to her belly, "you could just be naked."

"Naked?" Isabela giggled, leaning on Hawke and smiling up at her. "You want me naked? Around the ship... in front of the crew? In front of your sister?"

Hawke gave a light shrug and an easy grin.

"Your ship, your rules, Captain."

"Mmm," Isabela purred, pulling Hawke in for a kiss, "say that again."

"Captain."

"Ooh."

Outside, two people were passing by the Captain's cabin of the Siren's Call II when they heard something that made them stop dead in their tracks.

"Captain. Mmm, Captain," came a loud moan that was no doubt Hawke. "Yes, Captain, anything you say, anything you want. Anything."

The two people stared at the door then stared at each other.

"Donnic," Aveline said.

"Yes, love?"

"I know this is going to break your heart and I truly am sorry, but I don't think I can enjoy Captain and Guardsman in the bedroom anymore."

Donnic put on a brave face.

"Of course, love. I understand."