Chapter Text
She avoided eye contact with him at breakfast the next morning. With one hand, she swirled her spoon around her bowl of porridge, and with the other, twisted one of her dreadlocks around a finger. She wasn't sure if he had noticed her strange behaviour or not; she hadn't looked anywhere near his face. She did however feel someone's eyes staring a hole in her head.
Feeling uncomfortable, she pulled the old red ribbon off her wrist and used it to pull her blonde hair up into a pony tail. Having dreadlocks made life a lot easier for her. No need for pulling and tugging at her curly strands to get rid of those pesky tangles and knots. She could have always just chopped it all off like she had done when she was fourteen, but she didn't want to have to go through the humiliation of being mistaken for a man again. People were tactless bastards.
Her hands shook as she picked up her bowl, shivers going up her spine as the spoon slid around the side making a sharp sound. She wasn't exactly sure why she was so jumpy and nervous. Her and Varric just shared a few kisses. That was all. That didn't mean anything, right? Butterflies attacked her insides as she recalled the night before. The more she thought about those moments, the more nauseous she felt. She even felt light headed as she stood up.
As she moved behind the table to bring her bowl back to the kitchens, she failed to notice one of the chair's legs sticking out in front of her. Ungracefully, she tripped and fell forward; her bowl and spoon going flying and landing on Sera's giant plate of toast. She braced herself for the feeling of pain and humiliation, but opened her eyes to see the floor a couple of inches from her face. Someone had grabbed her.
Don't let it be him, don't let it be him...
It was Cullen. And for once, instead of burning bright red as she usually would have, she sighed with relief. At that moment, she felt confused with herself. How bizarre.
"Are you all right, Inquisitor?" the commander said, his eyes full of concern as usual.
And instead of babbling, Malika pulled herself back up straight, looked at him in the eyes and smiled.
"I'm fine, Cullen. Thanks for catching me."
He frowned, obviously not convinced. "Are you sure, my lady? You seem... not like yourself this morning."
You're telling me...
"No, no! I'm fine, really! Don't worry, Cullen. I'm just not a morning person."
Straightening her back, Mal accidentally, out of habit, turned to see who was around her. And she looked directly into Varric's eyes.
Well, fuck me, she thought aggressively, then instantly regretted it when her mind went on overload with inappropriate thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck...Stop, stop, stop...
He wasn't looking at her with concern. Instead, there was a look of amused curiosity on his face. He was obviously finding her fascinating entertainment for the morning. His lips were curved into a smirk and had an eyebrow raised. Quickly, Mal looked away.
Clearing her throat a little too loudly, she looked down to see Sera pinching the fallen bowl between her thumb and index finger.
"Ew, you got your left over gunk all over my toast! Take it away, take it away!"
Mal caught the bowl before it hit the ground in the direction Sera had flung it. Whispering sorry into the elf's ear, she leaned over her shoulder to grab her spoon out of Sera's tea.
"You're gonna pay for that, Quizzie. When you least expect it."
With Sera's threat of doom playing in the back of her mind, Mal turned towards the kitchen.
"Not to sound like a mother hen, but are you okay?"
The dwarven lady almost jumped out of her skin when Varric crept up behind her. He had his own breakfast plates balanced in his left hand and was suddenly right beside her.
"Uh...Yeah, sure? I mean of course, why would I not be okay? Everything's okay. I'm okay. I think Sera's okay. Are you okay?"
If Varric noticed her nervous chatter, he didn't comment. Mal cursed herself once the words left her mouth. This was what she was like around Cullen, not Varric. Why was she nervous around Varric? They were friends and friends aren't nervous around each other, right? I mean, even friends who comfort each other intimately and then share a couple of kisses; that's all cool, right? Right?
It was obvious Varric did, however, notice her internal monologue.
"Listen, if it's about last night-"
"No, nope, nay. Why, what happened last night? Nothing happened last night? Did something happen last night?"
She was doing it again. Maker save me now.
"You kissed me. Last night. In the pub."
"Yeah, well then you kissed me!"
Her eyes widened when she realised how loud she had exclaimed the statement. She thanked the heavens there was no one in that particular hallway.
"Mal, I'm not quite sure where this conversation is going..."
"You're not alone with that."
A moment of silence fell between the two dwarves as they both stood opposite each other awkwardly. The only noise that filled the corridor was the sound of pots and pans from the kitchen.
"So..."
"So..."
"I don't really know how to handle these situations, Varric."
"And I do?"
"I don't know? Okay let's just... what exactly do we need to talk about?"
Varric's eyes left the ground and moved up to Mal's face, which was contorted in confusion and worry. She had a beautiful face, even though she was convinced she looked like a halla's back end. She had large blue eyes; they were what betrayed her put on emotions. One would only need to know her enough to read them. Then there was her cute little button nose, the strong jaw line, the high cheek bones, and thick brows. She didn't have them shaped like most women, but they weren't overly messy. They had a slight curve and were as dark as her brunette hair. They always highlighted her funny facial expressions.
Varric was attracted to her. And he certainly liked kissing her. He was attracted to her in a different way he was to Cassandra. Cassandra was so different to Mal. She was not shy; tackled problems head first instead of skilfully avoiding confrontations like Mal. She was aggressive, while Mal was sly. Her personality clashed with Varric's. Mal's did not. She shared his humour; getting all the stupid jokes he'd make that none of the other's would get. She would cackle like a mad women at a comment he'd make during a fight; disappearing from sight and appearing behind her enemy, laughing all the while. They would drive the others up the wall during long hikes, their pointless conversations completely lost on them.
Perhaps he was never even falling for Cassandra. Maybe he had just liked the idea of having someone in his life. He had never thought of Mal in that way. Even without her confirmation, he could see she was besotted with Cullen. There was only one time when he had... It was when he first saw her.
Through the smoke and green rift edges, he had seen her. He had never been allowed to go see her before she woke up. He hadn't cared about it either. But when he saw her that first time, her twin daggers harnessed on her back and her glove still glowing green... He had thought she was one of the most fantastic things he had ever seen. Now, as he looked into those blue eyes, he prayed to the maker he wouldn't fuck up the friendship they had built up.
"I suppose whether or not it meant something."
He cursed in his head when he saw the clueless expression on her face.
"Whether or not... it was more than just... oh Maker give me strength... if there are feelings involved in... this."
He cringed and thought of all the different outcomes of this situation. Hardly any of them were good. He closed his eyes a took slow, deep breaths. He wasn't even sure what his answer was.
With a startled look on her face, Mal almost squeaked.
"Uh... Can I get back to you about that? I've got to go... water some herbs."
Varric stared after the Inquisitor, shocked by her abrupt exit. Rubbing his hands against his forehead, he groaned.
"Balls."