"And then Hawke tore the door clean off of its hinges, walked into the room, and-"
Speak of the Devil and she will appear. Hawke walked through the small crowd that had gathered, and at the sight of her something in the air went chilly.
"I guess we'll finish this later," he said, uncharacteristically quietly. He turned away a little, and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Varric stayed turned away when Hawke asked, "Do you have a minute, Varric?"
She couldn't see the fondness mixed with bitter tension in his features. "For you, Hawke?" he said softly. "I have all the time in the world."
He meant to fall silent, to let her say what she came here to say, but something burst out of him unbidden. Turning to her, he said somewhat unkindly, "Congrats, by the way. People say you and that elf are- an item." Normally he'd be more verbose than this, but he's not sure talking too much is a good idea right now. "So. What's going on, Hawke?"
On some level, he was hoping it was just a rumor. There was never a shortage of them. If he believed half of them, Hawke would be linked to Anders, Isabela, her own brother, the Coterie leader, several templars, Meredith, Orsino, Sebastian, a high dragon, and the Arishok. This was probably a shitty rumor too.
((ooc: i found a youtube video of the scene that i'm using for this!))
Hawke was a little worried. Because she couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. The problem was that she didn’t know what it was. But something was bothering him. She thought, anyway. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was fine and she was just... imagining things. She could be.
So she lobbed a joke at him, teasing as she always did. “Well, well, well. I never thought you were the type, Varric. I’m flattered.”
Varric expected the jokes and the teasing. What he didn't expect was how hard it would be. After so many years in the same city, with the same people, making his connections and extending his feelers in all directions, few things were truly hard anymore. There was difficulty all around, of course, and stress, and strain, but this? The kind of hard where your fingers froze and words choked in your throat and well-rehearsed patterns failed you?
He hadn't felt that since the thaig.
A little 'heh' of a smirk turned into a drink from his tankard long enough to try and collect himself. It shouldn't have been that hard. Come on, Tethras, you practiced this. A quip about chest hair, a joke about Bianca, maybe a snerk about not being into humans.
"You should be," he said quietly, before belatedly trying to turn it into something sarcastic. Yes, Hawke, look at how wonderful he is. Of course you should be flattered.
"So," he continued bravely, determinedly arranging his face into a neutral friend expression. "Is it true? Or are we adding this to the Wall of Bullshit?"
When he didn’t respond in kind, none of the familiar sarcasm or a joke to be had... That clinched it. Something was seriously wrong. Something twisted in her stomach a little, the smile that had been on her face faltering, turning into something... uncertain for a moment, before she schooled it into something more neutral. Everything was fine. She was fine. Not worried at all. Not wishing that he really WAS. Jealous. Interested. Both.
He asked her a question. Right.
Word certainly got around fast. Of course, that was what he did. He heard things. Gathered information. She wondered how much he’d heard. How much he knew. Why she didn’t just tell him that yes, they were... something, but it wasn’t serious. Just friends. With a little something more. Not that it mattered, she guessed. It was probably for the best.
“It’s true,” she replied, stopping herself before she could add the word ‘enough’. Before she could tell him that they were friends with a few enjoyable side benefits. Maker, being in love with your best friend was really bloody difficult. “I’d say I was surprised that you heard about us, but that’d be a lie.” It was a little thin, as far as jokes went, but it was all she could manage. It was light-hearted enough. More light-hearted than she felt.
The look on Hawke's face, however fleeting, told Varric that he wasn't being quite as smooth as he thought he was. Shit. He mentally shook himself, reminding himself that if the elf was making Hawke happy, then that's what mattered. Maker knew she deserved it.
Still, it doesn't make the confirmation any less of a punch to the stomach. It was only through the force of his superhuman lying abilities that he managed to disguise the moment as a neutral, surprised little. "Huh."
"Yeah, well," came some fairly hollow smarm. "You know me, Hawke. Eyes everywhere."
Eyes everywhere? Seriously? What the hell was THAT? Pathetic is what it was. Andraste's tits, he was a 12 year old girl.
Through a massive force of effort (and a sucked-in breath that, somehow, managed to almost look like his normal put-upon sighing) he willed himself to be a goddamn man about this. To even hitch a smile up on his stupid face.
"Well, then- let me... be the first to- congratulate you." Those last two words fell a little flatter than expected. It was at the same time too sincere and too sarcastic.
But he couldn't bring himself to say anything negative. It was too close to truth, and truth was dangerous.
Her smile was a little bit... affected, and didn’t quuuuite reach her eyes. But she did her best to keep up the charade. ‘Pretend Everything’s Fine’... the story of her life. “Which is why there’s no one else I’d rather have watching my back.” Even as she was saying it she was internally face-palming INTENSELY. Really? That was the best she could come up with? She was pretty sure she just brought shame to the entire Hawke family with that one.
let me... be the first to- congratulate you.
It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t need to congratulate her... them. There was nothing... “I... Thanks, Varric.” No. This was better. Better he think that this was serious than realise who she was really in love with. THAT would just make things awkward. And she would hate herself if she destroyed their friendship because of her stupid feelings.
Okay, Varric may have been crammed halfway up his own ass right then, but he could STILL tell that something was wrong. Her answer wasn't half as smartass as it should be, nor did it seem quite as happy as you'd expect.
Shit.
"Shit. Come on, Hawke," Varric said appeasingly, some of his genuine snark creeping back into his voice. "Don't give me the kicked-puppy eyes. What'd I say wrong? Were you expecting a condescending big brother talk, or maybe some long-winded judgment? I'm no Blondie."
“Thank the Maker,” she replied without hesitation, sounding a little bit more like herself. “I don’t think Kirkwall could handle two of him.” And she was certain that she couldn’t. One Anders was more than enough. She managed a smirk, a little more teasing entering her voice as she sounded a little more like her usual self. “And you, say something wrong? I’m not sure that’s possible.”
She really needed to get better at the pretending everything was fine thing. At least with him. To the rest of Kirkwall she did just fine.
"Hawke." He's used that tone on her before, when she insisted that she didn't care that Carver became a goddamn templar, when she tried to claim with a straight face that Isabela was only okay-looking. It was his calling-the-bullshit tone, but always laced with tenderness.
"What is it? You're gonna make me cry just lookin' at you." For the first time in this conversation he finally looked AT her instead of through her, really looked, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Something wrong? With Fenris? Whatever it is, you know I'm always here to listen."
He knew how Fenris got about mages. It was the only thing he could think of that would make her act all weird. That he had congratulated her- but maybe congratulations weren't in order.
Maker damn it. All he wanted was to puke some positive bullshit at her then drink alone.
Oh for... Not that tone. She hated it when he used that tone on her. Loved it too, because it was so bloody him, but he wasn’t supposed to be using it now. On her. This time. This making it so much harder to just leave. To finish up this incredibly weird and awkward conversation they were having and leave. All she wanted was to go somewhere else.
And have a few drinks. Or maybe Aveline needed a hand with something. Beating up some bandits sounded like a fine distraction.
“It’s nothing! I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine. It’s great.” She sighed. “We’re just. Not. An item. Exactly. Right now. That’s all.” Oh Maker, this wasn’t going to blow up in her face at ALL somewhere in the future. Never. “But it’s okay, Varric.” Her smile was real, this time. Because what he said was the truth. He was always there for her. Always listened. “The same goes for you. You know that, right? You can talk to me about anything.”
"That's- ah, shit," he said, cursing his own foot-in-mouth syndrome. Truth be told, it was a thin cover-up for the way his spirits lifted almost instantly. Ridiculous- her being single didn't mean a fucking thing.
In fact, it probably meant that he left her- if it was the other way around, Hawke would've just said that outright. Still, it was hard to school his face into the socially appropriate Supportive Friend. It wasn't easy to pretend not to be happy about it, but he managed. Mostly.
"Sorry to hear that, Hawke. Let me know if you want me to humiliate him in Wicked Grace this week. I'll make him walk back to Hightown in his loincloth at 2 in the morning."
It had his usual snark, but there was the faintest bite to it. The bite that would even suggest a walk of shame that, while funny, would be outright dangerous in Lowtown after dark.
Hawke was far too happy to hear that familiar tone enter his voice. It was ridiculous. She was reasonably adult; she should not be this moon-faced. But she was. So moon-faced. Besotted. Head over boot heels for her best friend.
She couldn’t help the soft, fond laughter. She couldn’t. Because of course Varric would offer that. His friend was hurting and he cared a whole lot about the whole lot of them. “Varric, NO,” but there was too much amusement and fondness and lingering laughter for the words to hold any bite. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”
AND THEN SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER HER. She had no bloody idea, but before she could think, before she could stop herself, before she could silently talk some sense into herself, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “And the mental image of Fenris making a walk of shame back to his mansion will sustain me for weeks. Thank you.”
Oh she was so stupid. So. Stupid. Way to hide your true feelings, Hawke. Way to go!
Varric didn't know what just happened either, but if there was ONE THING he knew how to do, it was be charming with pretty girls. His body knew flirting better than it knew breathing, so settling into the happy rhythm was the easiest thing in the world. His lazy smile let some of his genuine happiness pour through.
"What?" he asked, mockingly offended. "I'd give him his sword. Probably."
A wink. "However, far be it from me to deny a lady sustenance. You need a pick-me-up, gorgeous, you just call me."
“Well, as long as you give him his sword...” That wasn’t the nickname she would have expected him to give her. At all. A joke about her stabbing people, maybe. Or something about her awful luck. Not... that one. Why did he have to choose that one? Not that she minded. She really didn’t. It just made her heart... flutter. A little. In the most frustrating, annoying way.
Bloody charming dwarf.
This time, her smile lit up her face. “Naturally. You’re always the first person I call.” Banter, at least, she could do. She wasn’t flirting. She wouldn’t... flirt. Okay, maybe it was flirting as much as bantering.
"When you want me to give someone a sword?" he shot back, a smug-ass smile twisting his face.
This felt right. Finally. And he could see that Hawke felt better too- most likely she could feel the upset of their familiar rhythm, or she was just wigged out by Varric being weird.
His hand twitched. He wanted badly to put a hand to her cheek, to brush that ridiculous strand of hair out of her face- but he turned the gesture into a reach for his tankard, instead.
"Well, as much as we both love talking about my sword..." He let the comment sink in with a wink while he took a sip of his ale. "I think there's some drinking to be doing, and a chair with your name on it."
Oh, you are so lucky she loved liked you, Varric. “Sass, too,” Hawke shot back, grinning. “Can’t forget the sass.” She could breathe a little easier, now. Things had fallen back into a more familiar rhythm, and it felt right. It felt better.
“Second only to your chest hair.” Good. Yes. Drinking she can do. Drinking she can definitely do. “Yes there is.” And then she smirked and added, teasing, “And I do hope you mean that literally.”
"So sorry, milady," he demurred faux-respectfully, with a hand to his chest and a fake supplicating little bow. "I'm afraid we're fresh out of ass-labeled chairs."
He kicked the one next to him out from the table a little, and slid a tankard in front of it. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the regular kind."
Hawke heaved the most put-upon sigh she could muster, mock-disappointed. It was only ruined a little by the amusement in her eyes. And the fondness. “I suppose that will have to do for now.”
She sprawls easily in the chair he kicked out for her beside him, her shoulder brushing his. She should probably move it, scoot to an appropriately friends-distance, but she didn’t. Instead she reached out for the tankard he offered.
They started drinking, that old familiarity sinking in again. At some point in the evening, after they both had a couple drinks in them, they moved to Varric's rooms, which were much warmer, better-smelling, "and less filled with handsy drunks," as Varric put it.
Less filled. Not devoid of them entirely. He gave a trademark Roguish Wink at that.
Once up there, once settled in at his table (him in his glorious chair at the head of the table, her in the chair nearest), Varric put down his tankard, looking serious. As if this was the right time of night to start talking business.
"Actually, there is something we need to discuss, Hawke."
Varric went to a side table and pulled out what looked kind of like the piles of scrolls and maps and figures they used to plan the Deep Roads expedition. He plunked the pile down and unrolled a large map of what looked like a mansion of some kind.
"We need to be prepared for what's ahead, Hawke," he said seriously, his hands splayed to keep the map open. "Duke Jackass de Montfort's salon is only a few weeks away. I've done my best," his tone became doubtful, "but that only leaves us so much time to figure out what to steal."
That earned him a smirk and a playful “Promises, promises,” as they made their way up to his rooms. They were comfortable again, and that’s all Hawke wanted. Wanting anything more was foolish, and she wouldn’t risk this. Risk them, their friendship. She couldn’t.
She’d lost quite enough in Kirkwall, without losing him, too.
Leaning back in her chair, she took a drink, watching him thoughtfully over the rim of her tankard. “And where he’s keeping it. Somehow I doubt Orlesian storage habits are any less annoying than the Orlesians themselves.”
Varric nodded, looking aggrieved and offended. "It's their own faults if they get robbed blind, really."
They spent a few minutes going over the drawing of the estate. Varric kept dipping his quill into a well of red ink and circling spots that were likely to have valuables. "I know a guy who used to sell this putz- well, he sold a lot of things," Varric said blithely, explaining how he knew what the dude might have.
And all night, he kept stealing glances at her. When she wasn't looking, when she was drinking or laughing or leaning over to look at the map and her hair fell into her eyes like that. It was a shock just how hard the news of Fenris and Hawke had hit him. Varric had thought he maybe had a slight case of 'wow she's pretty huh' and nothing more, much like Merrill's cute little crush. But hearing about Hawke with someone else - something actually believable and credible (given the glances and the flirting and how they'd looked at each other and) - had struck him like a blow to the chest.
Now that he realized just how bad he had it, the dwarf couldn't stop looking at her.
“And they’re going to, naturally.” Hawke knew Varric. Knew he had every intention of doing exactly that. As best he could. And who was she to stop him? No, she would be helping him. Delightedly. And given that things tended to go to hell in a handbasket when they were involved... she would take what delight she could get.
And if it involved indulging Varric a little, well... he was a friend. Friends did that.
Leaning over the map, making careful note of everywhere that he’s circled in red ink, as well as entrances and exits and windows, all the usual sorts of information needed when planning a theft, she huffed a breath, blowing loose strands of hair out of her eyes and happened to look up. Happened to catch Varric looking at her.
She didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. She’d never seen it before. Her fingers stilled on the map. “Varric?”
Varric blinked. Shit, she caught him staring like a damn teenager. His brain launched into bullshit mode as easy as breathing, and his expression cleared into one of those snapping-out-of-a-daze looks, followed by a smirk.
"Hm? Oh, sorry, Hawke. Just wondering how you humans get anything done with those long arms and legs everywhere. You people are like spiders in skirts."
Of course, what came pouring out of his mouth was the stupidest shit in the world, but Varric didn't always have control over how his brain handled the on-the-fly falsehoods. It was a little like trying to control a stampede of wild horses. Sometimes masterful deceptions happened, and other times he insulted Hawke by calling her a spider.
Hawke just staaaaaaared at him for a long moment, her lips pressing together in that way they did when she was doing her very best to not laugh outright at her friend. “Spiders. Really, Varric?” There was no hiding the amusement in her voice, or in her eyes. “I’m hurt. Incredibly hurt.” Except not so much; she was too damn amused to be hurt.
Varric put a hand on his chest in mock horror. "I am dreadfully sorry, messere, please- accept my apologies."
By way of apology, he offered her a random sweet sitting on the table (what was it, one of those weird Nevarran candies Isabela stole the other day?), as if it were some kind of precious jewel. When Hawke reaches for it, he's going to quickly turn his hand to grab hers, and kiss the back of it like some kinda gentleman, all bowing and scraping and ~repenting~ for his insult.
“As you should be,” Hawke replied, and then she heaved a mock-put-upon sigh. “I suppose I can accept your apologies. This time.”
Reaching out, she moved to pluck the offered sweet from his hand... only to be caught by surprise as he grabbed her hand in hers and kissed the back of it. Oh. That was... unexpected. She wasn’t blushing, she totally wasn’t blushing. He was just... being Varric. Putting on the most arch expression she can muster, she nodded. “That’s better,” she retorted, reaching over with her other hand to snatch the sweet and pop it gracefully into her mouth.
“Of course, serah,” he groveled insincerely, grabbing a candy for himself.
Resuming the conversation after that was fairly easy. The topic drifted and wove in and out of Chateau Haine, wandering over the drinking habits of nobles and if what Aveline has under her armor was just more armor. Eventually they were discussing the particulars of Meredith and Orsino’s torrid love affair in between laughing at weird fan mail for Varric.
“I’m not saying he’s the top there,” Varric explained, leaning back against the table. Ignoring how close her knees were to his. “I’m just saying she wouldn’t be doing all the angry slamming.”
“Maker’s breath, Varric, that isn’t a mental image I need,” Hawke managed through her laughter, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And it’s definitely not one I wanted. Ever.” She grabbed her tankard and downed the rest of its contents. “I don’t think there’s enough ale in the world to scrub that image from my mind.”
Varric tries valiantly for the deadpan serious shit, but an incredibly undignified cackle bursts out of him. As always, he's incredibly pleased with himself, and delighted by his own jokes- though not half as much as he's delighted by the disgust on her face.
"Not enough ale, but maybe some weird fan mail," he says conversationally, taking a swig of ale and picking a random letter off the table. Without looking at it he wings it at her. This game is fun: open the weird fanmail, see if it's an uninvited critique, a marriage proposal, or someone swearing that they actually saw Donnen Brennokovic in Cumberland the other day, seriously!
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branchandroot
Snarkwall verse
Date: 2017-11-18 07:27 am (UTC)Speak of the Devil and she will appear. Hawke walked through the small crowd that had gathered, and at the sight of her something in the air went chilly.
"I guess we'll finish this later," he said, uncharacteristically quietly. He turned away a little, and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Varric stayed turned away when Hawke asked, "Do you have a minute, Varric?"
She couldn't see the fondness mixed with bitter tension in his features. "For you, Hawke?" he said softly. "I have all the time in the world."
He meant to fall silent, to let her say what she came here to say, but something burst out of him unbidden. Turning to her, he said somewhat unkindly, "Congrats, by the way. People say you and that elf are- an item." Normally he'd be more verbose than this, but he's not sure talking too much is a good idea right now. "So. What's going on, Hawke?"
On some level, he was hoping it was just a rumor. There was never a shortage of them. If he believed half of them, Hawke would be linked to Anders, Isabela, her own brother, the Coterie leader, several templars, Meredith, Orsino, Sebastian, a high dragon, and the Arishok. This was probably a shitty rumor too.
((ooc: i found a youtube video of the scene that i'm using for this!))
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Date: 2017-11-19 06:57 am (UTC)So she lobbed a joke at him, teasing as she always did. “Well, well, well. I never thought you were the type, Varric. I’m flattered.”
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Date: 2017-11-19 07:09 am (UTC)He hadn't felt that since the thaig.
A little 'heh' of a smirk turned into a drink from his tankard long enough to try and collect himself. It shouldn't have been that hard. Come on, Tethras, you practiced this. A quip about chest hair, a joke about Bianca, maybe a snerk about not being into humans.
"You should be," he said quietly, before belatedly trying to turn it into something sarcastic. Yes, Hawke, look at how wonderful he is. Of course you should be flattered.
"So," he continued bravely, determinedly arranging his face into a neutral friend expression. "Is it true? Or are we adding this to the Wall of Bullshit?"
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Date: 2017-11-19 07:39 am (UTC)He asked her a question. Right.
Word certainly got around fast. Of course, that was what he did. He heard things. Gathered information. She wondered how much he’d heard. How much he knew. Why she didn’t just tell him that yes, they were... something, but it wasn’t serious. Just friends. With a little something more. Not that it mattered, she guessed. It was probably for the best.
“It’s true,” she replied, stopping herself before she could add the word ‘enough’. Before she could tell him that they were friends with a few enjoyable side benefits. Maker, being in love with your best friend was really bloody difficult. “I’d say I was surprised that you heard about us, but that’d be a lie.” It was a little thin, as far as jokes went, but it was all she could manage. It was light-hearted enough. More light-hearted than she felt.
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Date: 2017-11-19 07:57 am (UTC)Still, it doesn't make the confirmation any less of a punch to the stomach. It was only through the force of his superhuman lying abilities that he managed to disguise the moment as a neutral, surprised little. "Huh."
"Yeah, well," came some fairly hollow smarm. "You know me, Hawke. Eyes everywhere."
Eyes everywhere? Seriously? What the hell was THAT? Pathetic is what it was. Andraste's tits, he was a 12 year old girl.
Through a massive force of effort (and a sucked-in breath that, somehow, managed to almost look like his normal put-upon sighing) he willed himself to be a goddamn man about this. To even hitch a smile up on his stupid face.
"Well, then- let me... be the first to- congratulate you." Those last two words fell a little flatter than expected. It was at the same time too sincere and too sarcastic.
But he couldn't bring himself to say anything negative. It was too close to truth, and truth was dangerous.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 10:26 am (UTC)let me... be the first to- congratulate you.
It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t need to congratulate her... them. There was nothing... “I... Thanks, Varric.” No. This was better. Better he think that this was serious than realise who she was really in love with. THAT would just make things awkward. And she would hate herself if she destroyed their friendship because of her stupid feelings.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 10:43 am (UTC)Shit.
"Shit. Come on, Hawke," Varric said appeasingly, some of his genuine snark creeping back into his voice. "Don't give me the kicked-puppy eyes. What'd I say wrong? Were you expecting a condescending big brother talk, or maybe some long-winded judgment? I'm no Blondie."
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Date: 2017-11-19 11:39 am (UTC)“Thank the Maker,” she replied without hesitation, sounding a little bit more like herself. “I don’t think Kirkwall could handle two of him.” And she was certain that she couldn’t. One Anders was more than enough. She managed a smirk, a little more teasing entering her voice as she sounded a little more like her usual self. “And you, say something wrong? I’m not sure that’s possible.”
She really needed to get better at the pretending everything was fine thing. At least with him. To the rest of Kirkwall she did just fine.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 11:49 am (UTC)"What is it? You're gonna make me cry just lookin' at you." For the first time in this conversation he finally looked AT her instead of through her, really looked, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Something wrong? With Fenris? Whatever it is, you know I'm always here to listen."
He knew how Fenris got about mages. It was the only thing he could think of that would make her act all weird. That he had congratulated her- but maybe congratulations weren't in order.
Maker damn it. All he wanted was to puke some positive bullshit at her then drink alone.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 12:13 pm (UTC)And have a few drinks. Or maybe Aveline needed a hand with something. Beating up some bandits sounded like a fine distraction.
“It’s nothing! I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine. It’s great.” She sighed. “We’re just. Not. An item. Exactly. Right now. That’s all.” Oh Maker, this wasn’t going to blow up in her face at ALL somewhere in the future. Never. “But it’s okay, Varric.” Her smile was real, this time. Because what he said was the truth. He was always there for her. Always listened. “The same goes for you. You know that, right? You can talk to me about anything.”
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 12:33 pm (UTC)"That's- ah, shit," he said, cursing his own foot-in-mouth syndrome. Truth be told, it was a thin cover-up for the way his spirits lifted almost instantly. Ridiculous- her being single didn't mean a fucking thing.
In fact, it probably meant that he left her- if it was the other way around, Hawke would've just said that outright. Still, it was hard to school his face into the socially appropriate Supportive Friend. It wasn't easy to pretend not to be happy about it, but he managed. Mostly.
"Sorry to hear that, Hawke. Let me know if you want me to humiliate him in Wicked Grace this week. I'll make him walk back to Hightown in his loincloth at 2 in the morning."
It had his usual snark, but there was the faintest bite to it. The bite that would even suggest a walk of shame that, while funny, would be outright dangerous in Lowtown after dark.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 12:44 pm (UTC)She couldn’t help the soft, fond laughter. She couldn’t. Because of course Varric would offer that. His friend was hurting and he cared a whole lot about the whole lot of them. “Varric, NO,” but there was too much amusement and fondness and lingering laughter for the words to hold any bite. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”
AND THEN SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER HER. She had no bloody idea, but before she could think, before she could stop herself, before she could silently talk some sense into herself, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “And the mental image of Fenris making a walk of shame back to his mansion will sustain me for weeks. Thank you.”
Oh she was so stupid. So. Stupid. Way to hide your true feelings, Hawke. Way to go!
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 12:51 pm (UTC)"What?" he asked, mockingly offended. "I'd give him his sword. Probably."
A wink. "However, far be it from me to deny a lady sustenance. You need a pick-me-up, gorgeous, you just call me."
A nickname. After four years.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-19 01:29 pm (UTC)Bloody charming dwarf.
This time, her smile lit up her face. “Naturally. You’re always the first person I call.” Banter, at least, she could do. She wasn’t flirting. She wouldn’t... flirt. Okay, maybe it was flirting as much as bantering.
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Date: 2017-11-20 02:18 am (UTC)This felt right. Finally. And he could see that Hawke felt better too- most likely she could feel the upset of their familiar rhythm, or she was just wigged out by Varric being weird.
His hand twitched. He wanted badly to put a hand to her cheek, to brush that ridiculous strand of hair out of her face- but he turned the gesture into a reach for his tankard, instead.
"Well, as much as we both love talking about my sword..." He let the comment sink in with a wink while he took a sip of his ale. "I think there's some drinking to be doing, and a chair with your name on it."
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Date: 2017-11-23 06:41 am (UTC)lovedliked you, Varric. “Sass, too,” Hawke shot back, grinning. “Can’t forget the sass.” She could breathe a little easier, now. Things had fallen back into a more familiar rhythm, and it felt right. It felt better.“Second only to your chest hair.” Good. Yes. Drinking she can do. Drinking she can definitely do. “Yes there is.” And then she smirked and added, teasing, “And I do hope you mean that literally.”
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Date: 2017-11-24 06:33 am (UTC)He kicked the one next to him out from the table a little, and slid a tankard in front of it. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the regular kind."
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Date: 2017-11-24 06:48 pm (UTC)She sprawls easily in the chair he kicked out for her beside him, her shoulder brushing his. She should probably move it, scoot to an appropriately friends-distance, but she didn’t. Instead she reached out for the tankard he offered.
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Date: 2017-11-25 01:52 am (UTC)Less filled. Not devoid of them entirely. He gave a trademark Roguish Wink at that.
Once up there, once settled in at his table (him in his glorious chair at the head of the table, her in the chair nearest), Varric put down his tankard, looking serious. As if this was the right time of night to start talking business.
"Actually, there is something we need to discuss, Hawke."
Varric went to a side table and pulled out what looked kind of like the piles of scrolls and maps and figures they used to plan the Deep Roads expedition. He plunked the pile down and unrolled a large map of what looked like a mansion of some kind.
"We need to be prepared for what's ahead, Hawke," he said seriously, his hands splayed to keep the map open. "Duke Jackass de Montfort's salon is only a few weeks away. I've done my best," his tone became doubtful, "but that only leaves us so much time to figure out what to steal."
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Date: 2017-11-30 11:22 pm (UTC)She’d lost quite enough in Kirkwall, without losing him, too.
Leaning back in her chair, she took a drink, watching him thoughtfully over the rim of her tankard. “And where he’s keeping it. Somehow I doubt Orlesian storage habits are any less annoying than the Orlesians themselves.”
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Date: 2017-12-01 12:31 am (UTC)They spent a few minutes going over the drawing of the estate. Varric kept dipping his quill into a well of red ink and circling spots that were likely to have valuables. "I know a guy who used to sell this putz- well, he sold a lot of things," Varric said blithely, explaining how he knew what the dude might have.
And all night, he kept stealing glances at her. When she wasn't looking, when she was drinking or laughing or leaning over to look at the map and her hair fell into her eyes like that. It was a shock just how hard the news of Fenris and Hawke had hit him. Varric had thought he maybe had a slight case of 'wow she's pretty huh' and nothing more, much like Merrill's cute little crush. But hearing about Hawke with someone else - something actually believable and credible (given the glances and the flirting and how they'd looked at each other and) - had struck him like a blow to the chest.
Now that he realized just how bad he had it, the dwarf couldn't stop looking at her.
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Date: 2017-12-01 03:36 am (UTC)And if it involved indulging Varric a little, well... he was a friend. Friends did that.
Leaning over the map, making careful note of everywhere that he’s circled in red ink, as well as entrances and exits and windows, all the usual sorts of information needed when planning a theft, she huffed a breath, blowing loose strands of hair out of her eyes and happened to look up. Happened to catch Varric looking at her.
She didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. She’d never seen it before. Her fingers stilled on the map. “Varric?”
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Date: 2017-12-01 05:13 am (UTC)"Hm? Oh, sorry, Hawke. Just wondering how you humans get anything done with those long arms and legs everywhere. You people are like spiders in skirts."
Of course, what came pouring out of his mouth was the stupidest shit in the world, but Varric didn't always have control over how his brain handled the on-the-fly falsehoods. It was a little like trying to control a stampede of wild horses. Sometimes masterful deceptions happened, and other times he insulted Hawke by calling her a spider.
Fuck.
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Date: 2017-12-14 08:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-12-15 12:16 am (UTC)By way of apology, he offered her a random sweet sitting on the table (what was it, one of those weird Nevarran candies Isabela stole the other day?), as if it were some kind of precious jewel. When Hawke reaches for it, he's going to quickly turn his hand to grab hers, and kiss the back of it like some kinda gentleman, all bowing and scraping and ~repenting~ for his insult.
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Date: 2017-12-20 10:56 am (UTC)Reaching out, she moved to pluck the offered sweet from his hand... only to be caught by surprise as he grabbed her hand in hers and kissed the back of it. Oh. That was... unexpected. She wasn’t blushing, she totally wasn’t blushing. He was just... being Varric. Putting on the most arch expression she can muster, she nodded. “That’s better,” she retorted, reaching over with her other hand to snatch the sweet and pop it gracefully into her mouth.
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Date: 2017-12-20 05:49 pm (UTC)Resuming the conversation after that was fairly easy. The topic drifted and wove in and out of Chateau Haine, wandering over the drinking habits of nobles and if what Aveline has under her armor was just more armor. Eventually they were discussing the particulars of Meredith and Orsino’s torrid love affair in between laughing at weird fan mail for Varric.
“I’m not saying he’s the top there,” Varric explained, leaning back against the table. Ignoring how close her knees were to his. “I’m just saying she wouldn’t be doing all the angry slamming.”
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Date: 2018-01-08 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-08 07:50 am (UTC)"Not enough ale, but maybe some weird fan mail," he says conversationally, taking a swig of ale and picking a random letter off the table. Without looking at it he wings it at her. This game is fun: open the weird fanmail, see if it's an uninvited critique, a marriage proposal, or someone swearing that they actually saw Donnen Brennokovic in Cumberland the other day, seriously!