Chapter Text
"And then she said 'The next time I throw myself off a cliff, I’ll tell you in advance.' "
Aveline laughed as Varric covered his face with both hands. "Of course she did," she chuckled, leaning over to pour him another healthy shot. It was one of the few bottles that Hawke hadn’t been able to ferret out - Aveline had taken one look at the expression on Varric’s face when he’d entered her office and had immediately unearthed it. She'd have to find a new hiding spot for the next bottle.
“You sound … surprised,” she continued, topping off her own glass. She was technically off duty, after all, and her office door was firmly closed.
“Less surprised, more aged ten years in one afternoon,” he grumbled before he killed the drink she’d poured for him. Aveline winced when he set it down on her desk - it wasn’t quite a slam but it wasn’t gentle, either. “Maker’s Breath, Aveline, what was she thinking?! Hawke’s always been a little flying by the seat of her pants but …”
“Honestly, Varric, are you really that shocked by her actions?” Aveline asked. One hand held the glass she was nursing, the other one kept a grip on the bottle for safe keeping.
Varric’s eyebrows bunched together as looked at her and she smiled, a little, when she noticed his eyes had flicked to the bottle momentarily. “And you’re saying that you aren’t?”
“Honestly, not all that much. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Varric, it’s not like I thought she’d throw herself off a cliff of all things. But this is the first time Hawke’s been in a fight since they took Bethany - you of all people should know she’s been a wreck since then. So, no, I can’t say I’m all that surprised she did something reckless and stupid because her head isn't in the game.”
The look he leveled at her was part irritation, part anger. “Do I need to remind you that you’re the one who gave her the lead, O Captain of the Guard?” he asked, as close to snapping as Aveline had ever heard him get with her.
She let it pass. This time.
“Hardly.” Aveline sighed and leaned her arms on her desk. Suddenly everything felt heavy - her armor, her sword, her emotions. “She’s been holed up with us, mostly you, ever since she returned.” She held up a hand as Varric went to interrupt. “I’m not saying that it’s been a bad thing. I’m grateful you’re there for her, that she’s allowed you to be there for her…”
Sometimes Aveline wondered if the others forgot that she had known Hawke the longest. The only one outside of Leandra and Bethany that had seen how Marion had struggled to remain the pillar of strength in the face of Carver’s death and their flight to safety. The trip across the ocean to Kirkwall would have been bad enough without the shared sense of guilt and grief that both Aveline and Hawke had carried with them.
They rarely spoke of those days now but Aveline would never forget them. And she was being honest - it was a relief to see that Hawke was, this time, actually relying on someone.
“But,” she continued, “Hawke’s not one for being idle. Stewing in her grief and anger would have crippled her in the long run. She made a reckless mistake now but I’m hoping that’ll … bleed off. Eventually.”
Varric looked dubious and she didn’t blame him. After all, she hadn’t been the one to see Hawke throw herself off a cliff like a moron. “Eventually,” he sighed after a moment. “How long until ‘eventually’?”
Aveline shrugged. “As long as it takes.”
“Well … shit.” He reached over and snatched the bottle from her and Aveline only glared halfheartedly. At least he remembered to pour her a glass, too. He raised his glass and clinked it against hers. “Well, I suppose here’s to as long as it takes.”
“And here’s to Hawke not throwing herself off of any cliffs any time soon,” Aveline responded gravely.
***
It took a few more glasses before Varric decided it was time to head out. “I have a late meeting to attend to,” he sighed as he slipped Bianca over his shoulder. “And then, home.”
“And where is Hawke?” Aveline asked, voice distressingly even for having helped to finish off the bottle.
“Over at Broody’s. Whatever they were talking about on the beach seemed to get through to her. Though, knowing those two, it’s probably broken down to uncomfortable silence and lots of drinking, so…” Varric spread his hands and shrugged before he turned towards the door.
“Varric?”
He paused mid step to look back at her over his shoulder.
“And how are you?” Aveline asked, voice quiet.
“Me?”
“Yes, you, dwarf. You’ve had no time to deal with Bartrand’s betrayal and you were close to Bethany. How are you?”
Varric was taken aback but also touched at the same time. And just a tad uncomfortable - he didn't do emotions, really. But Aveline was right. He really hadn’t had a chance to work through his own complicated feelings but, then again, he’d pay his weight in gold to avoid even trying.
“I appreciate it, Aveline, I do. But I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
He smiled and bowed. “You say the nicest things, Aveline.”
“Oh, go darken someone else's doorstep, Varric, and steal someone else’s drink.”
***
By the time Varric was able to darken his own doorstep, it was very late. Late enough that he was forced to use his key to access the Hanged Man’s front door because while some people might not believe it, like Isabela, but Norah did actually close up shop for the night.
Or, well, morning.
It just had been a while since Varric had come back after closing hours. It was always a strange sensation to walk through the pub proper and have it be empty. Though after his meeting with the Merchant’s Guild, the quiet was a nice change of pace. They were still demanding to know where Bartrand was and, Andraste’s tits, if he knew he’d hand him over on a silver platter. In the end, he’d simply walked out. He would probably pay for that later but right now, he just wanted to sleep. He’d earned it.
It was a pleasant surprise to find that the set of suites he called home weren’t completely dark; the fire was still burning, though it was down to embers now. Light enough for him to barely avoid tripping over a pair of discarded boots left nearly right in front of the door.
A bottle - the unopened bottle - caught his attention before he could start grumbling. Varric drifted to the table and spotted the note underneath it.
Stole this from Broody. Owe you one less.
xoxoxoxox
H
Varric turned to the lump in his bed. “It doesn’t count if you steal it Hawke,” he muttered, glad she wasn’t there to see the smile. She’d be smug for days. Or at least she would have been in different circumstances.
At least she’d been nice enough not to take over the entire bed but she had stolen most of the covers. All he could see was tufts of hair at one end and a foot at the other. Everything else was just a lump. A soon to be hungover lump, Varric mused. He know how much Fenris and Hawke could drink when they got together. Considering her stunt, which he was still angry about, he should let her suffer …
Varric rubbed at his face. “Shit, it’s a good thing you’re pathetic when you’re hungover.” Despite the lingering anger, he fetched a glass of water and one of the potions Anders had made for him ages ago that took the edge off. Both were placed on the side table next to the Lump That Was Hawke.
Drunk and asleep, it didn’t matter, Hawke woke from the quiet noises of the glass being set down. The lump moved and an eye blinked up at him from a mess of hair and blankets. “Varric?” she murmured, voice thick from sleep and drink.
“Shh. Go back to sleep, Waffles,” he responded. He reached out and smoothed down her hair and she drifted back to sleep without another word.
Truth be told, Hawke was not the only one emotionally and physically drained from everything that had been thrown at them. Varric might, one day, look back on this moment and recognize it for what it really was. As it was, he ignored everything in favor of slipping into his bed to wrestle some of those blankets back and to fall into deep slumber next to Hawke.