Work Text:
It started (as all the best things did) in the Hanged Man.
For once, the shit-hole was crawling with people. Well, not people exactly, but Templars. Somehow Isabela, with assistance from Daisy, had managed to recruit a quarter of the Gallow’s staff. The tavern had never seen so much crimson and plate metal. If Varric were to exaggerate, which he often did, he’d wager all but the Knight-Captain were in attendance.
Pity. Cullen was so serious, and criminally uptight. Varric, naturally, would have liked to see him drunk off his ass. The Knight-Captain could do with some quality fun.
He wasn’t the only one. Hawke was seriously lacking in that department.
“So?” Varric asked. He pushed through the crowd, hoping to catch Isabela’s attention. A burly Templar grunted in annoyance, but allowed him to pass unscathed. “Are you going to enlighten me? Or am I to be kept in the dark?”
“It depends.” Isabela said. She hooked her leg around the nearest stool, and pulled. The chair (and the Templar in it) fell to the ground. “I’d be more than happy to. That is, if you’re willing to help.” The Templar was getting to his feet, somewhat dazed. “If I were you, I’d make it quick.”
Varric scoffed, and pulled away from the bar. He was curious. But, he wasn’t that curious. A brawl wasn’t his idea of fun, anyhow.
The Templar, already right-side up, grabbed on to the nearest patron. Not surprisingly, it was another Templar. The two of them exchanged brief words, and promptly pounced on one another. It wasn’t long until half the tavern was joining in on the brawl. These Templars were no match for Bianca. But, Varric wasn’t looking to maim (or fatally injure). That was more Isabela’s prerogative.
Varric found Merrill in the corner. In her left hand, she held a ball of yarn. She twisted the yarn around each finger, linking them together in a fist-sized spool.
Huh. Daisy (more so than Varric) knew about fun. Perhaps, she could help Varric out.
“Pardon me, Daisy. You look busy. Can I have a moment? ” Varric asked.
“Oh! Hello, Varric.” Merrill said, and beamed at him. Varric loved that smile. It was the genuine sort. “You startled me. You really shouldn’t startle people. Aveline says it’s rude.” She paused. “Not that I’m saying you’re rude. I think you’re perfectly polite. Actually, I like you quite a great deal. Oh! Speaking of which.” She held out her yarn-encased hand. “Would you like some? Isabela gave it to me. I think I’ve almost got the hang of it. It’s called a ‘cat’s cradle’, see? Doesn’t look much like a cat, does it? Not really a cradle either. It’s a silly name, I know. And I’m rambling. Stop me if you need.”
“I need your help. It’s about Hawke.” Varric said. He pulled up a chair beside Merrill, and took her hands in his own. Merrill did not protest, and Varric began untangling his friend. “He’s—I don’t know—so serious. He’s not like me, or like Isabela… definitely not like you, Daisy. He’s just so practical and level-headed.” Varric lifted Merrill’s hand, and brought it palm up. “Yesterday, I overheard you and Isabela scheming. Didn’t know it’d be Templars. But, I thought it might be funny... I invited him to the Tavern. Do you know what he said?” Merrill shook her head. “He said ‘no’. Just, ‘no’! Like he always does.” Varric paused, and swiveled to face the tavern. The Templar-exclusive (well, Templar-exclusive + Isabela) brawl was still in full effect. “Look at this. We have an uprising on our hands, and Hawke’s going to miss it! I don’t know what to do. I just— I want him to relax, for once. For him to just take the load off.”
“Have you tried making a list?” Merrill asked. “That’s what I do, sometimes. Make lists. I have lots of them. I have a list of flowers. And I have a list of books. I even have a list of Isabela’s freckles.” She blushed. “Oh! But, she doesn’t know about that one. That one’s a secret list. Maybe that’s what you need, Varric.”
Huh. She had a point. Maybe? It was hard to tell with Merrill. But, it wasn’t exactly the advice Varric was looking for. Either way, Varric was thankful.
“Thank you, Daisy.” Varric said. He got to his feet, and planted a kiss atop her head. “This helped.”
“Oh! That’s good.” She said. “I’m glad. I like helping. Are you not going to stick around? We have all these Templars here. Isabela and I were going to—”
“I don’t want to know.” Varric said. He placed the freshly-rolled ball of string on the table. “Whatever it is, stay safe. Promise? I might need more advice. And that might be difficult. Especially if Aveline has you and Isabela locked up.”
Varric winked, and left Merrill and Isabella (and the horde of Templars) to the care of the Hanged Man. Really, Varric was over thinking it. Hawke didn’t hate fun. He just didn’t know how. So, naturally, Varric would just have to show him.
--
For Hawke, it started at the Blooming Rose.
When Varric had suggested a night out, Garrett hadn’t wanted to come. Hawke had a number of unfinished correspondences (damn responsibility). And that new zoning contract for the Bone Pit. Really, he was quite preoccupied. There was no time to gallivant throughout Kirkwall. He was much more comfortable at his Estate, anyhow.
But, Varric had been insistent. In all honesty, Hawke wasn’t sure why he agreed. He had to give it to the dwarf. Varric was increasingly hard to say ‘no’ to. And Hawke would know. He’d already denied Varric on more than one occasion. So, Hawke had (finally) said ‘yes’.
Varric frequented a number of seedy establishments. That was no secret. But, the Rose was a surprise. Currently, they were standing outside the building. Garrett willed himself to consider another solution. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? But, the Rose was located on a dead-end street. There really wasn’t a lot of room for alternatives. Before Hawke had enough sense to argue, Varric ushered him inside.
Inside… was not what Hawke had expected. For a brothel, the place was rather desolate. Or so Garrett assumed. In honesty, he wasn’t knowledgeable on the typical flow of clients. The Rose really wasn’t his scene. Besides that, it was rather clean. More so than the Hanged Man. Or Ander’s clinic, anyhow. Garrett had only been here once before. And not only was it not for pleasure, but it was also rather time sensitive. He hadn’t taken the time to look around.
“Huh.” Hawke said, and turned to Varric. He frowned. “I would have expected more Templars. The last time, when I was—um—here on business, the place was full of them. Or, I dunno, maybe that’s not it. I guess I just didn’t expect for it to be so quiet.”
Irony struck, and a rather indulgent moan erupted from one of the back rooms. Perhaps Hawke had spoken too soon.
“As always, Hawke, your timing is impeccable.” Varric said, and urged his friend forward. Hawke stood his ground. He wasn’t really interested in going any further. He was still intent on leaving. “As for the Templars? I suggest you don’t ask. I didn’t.” Varric laughed. “But, if you’re really curious, I bet Daisy and Isabela would be happy to fill you in.” Great, Varric was rambling. He didn’t do that (well, not usually, anyhow). It was alarming. “You’re probably wondering why we are here?”
“No.” Hawke said, and shifted his weight between his feet. “I’m accustomed to my friends dragging me, despite my protest, on mysterious adventures that end in debauchery. In fact, Fenris and I do this every other week.”
Varric cleared his throat.
“Point taken.” Varric said, and grinned. “But, there’s no need to be so damned sarcastic. It’s just. You’ve been so…” He paused. What? Garret wondered. Busy? Stressed? Distant? “I thought you should loosen up.”
Hawke gaped at his friend. They had known each other for what? Five years, at a minimum. Did Varric truly know him so little?
“And so you brought me here?” Hawke asked. Varric attempted (for a second time) to drag Garrett forward. Hawke grabbed his friend’s arm, and yanked. He didn’t appreciate being handled. Not when he was this uncomfortable. His next sentence was practically a hiss. “I don’t want to be at a brothel, Varric.”
“Just wait.” Varric said, evenly. “Let go of my arm, and trust me on this one.”
“I’m sorry.” Hawke said, and dropped Varric’s arm. “But. I don’t belong here. Besides, I have work to do. I’m going home.”
“Hawke. Just… trust me.” Varric said. “Just for a moment. Just this once. That’s all I’m asking.”
Without another word, Varric sauntered forward. He approached a small podium. Behind it an elf woman was scratching at a sheet of parchment. Upon Varric’s greeting, she looked up and smiled. Garrett’s heart sunk. It seemed like the woman recognized Varric. Just how often did Varric frequent The Rose? And, how many of their friends had he dragged along with him?
“What about him?” The woman asked, and motioned to Hawke. “If he wants to join, it’s going to be extra.”
“Really, Lusine.” Varric said, and rolled his eyes. He extracted two gold coins from his pocket. “I’ve been coming here for how long? And you’re just as eager to take my coin today, as you where back then. Fine!” He handed both coins to the woman. “Now, if you’re satisfied?”
The woman (Lusine, he’d said?) nodded, and went back to her scribbling. Varric, now looking back at Hawke, waited. Hawke was left with a choice. He could leave. It was what he wanted to do. Really, there was no reason for Hawke to stay.
But, he was stuck in place. He didn’t want to go. Not yet. Varric had asked for his trust. And for once, Hawke could (without deadly consequences) give it to him. Not only that, but Hawke was curious. This wasn’t usual. It wasn’t safe. Or comfortable.
“Well Hawke, are you coming? Or not?” Varric asked. Hawke took a step forward, and Varric sighed in relief. “Excellent! I was sure you’d be out that door in an instant. I mean, just look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face so red!” Hawke scowled, and Varric sobered. “Just, thank you, Hawke. For trusting me, I mean. I meant what I said, you’re going to like where this is headed. I’m sure of it. Just, follow me.”
Varric led Hawke to the far side of the room. Naturally Hawke (who was a public figure, of no little import), garnered a decent amount of attention. Garrett kept his eyes down, and followed at Varric’s heels. A human woman, nearly half his age, called out to him. Her words were lewd enough to light the tips of Hawke’s ears ablaze (again). What was he doing here? Really? It wasn’t too late to turn around. Varric would understand.
Varric stopped, and waved at one of the prostitutes.
He was a human man: short, fair, blonde, and covered with freckles. Next to Hawke (tall, dark, and brooding), the man appeared fragile. Though, honestly, most people appeared fragile next to Hawke.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Varric Tethras.” The man said, and beamed in Varric’s direction. “It’s been quite some time, you naughty boy. What are you up to this time?”
What? Did Varric intend to—with this man? Honestly, Hawke didn’t even know that Varric preferred… well. Not that it mattered. Hawke had only just assumed. Apparently, he had assumed wrong. Looking at his friend group, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Oh, just the usual nonsense. You know me, Lorenzo. I can’t stay out of trouble. ” Varric said, and winked. “But this time, I brought along a friend.”
As if just noticing Hawke, the other man jolted upright. Lorenzo’s eyes roamed over Hawke. It was as if the man was assessing him. For a moment, they stood in absolute silence. When Lorenzo had finished, he waved cheerily at Hawke.
“That shouldn’t be a problem!” Lorenzo said, and hooked his arm through Garrett’s. “If you two gentleman will just follow me—”
Lorenzo led Hawke (arm in arm) and Varric up a flight of stairs. They entered a room at the end of the hall, and Lorenzo locked the door. The room was small. It contained only three furnishings: a red rug, an assortment of shrubberies, and a gigantic bed that consumed the majority of the room. There was a moment of silence. Hawke used that time to make one final attempt at reason. In the end, nothing came to him. He was doing this? Yeah, he really was.
Wait. Wait!
He couldn’t go through with it. He had to—
“So big guy.” Lorenzo said, stretching on his tip toes to purr into Hawke’s ear. “What kind of information will you be needing this time.”
“OhThankTheMaker.” Hawke said, and doubled over. Lorenzo dropped his hold on Hawke, and perched himself on the edge of the bed. “You had me going there for a moment, Varric. I thought we were going to—” Varric grinned at him, and Lorenzo cocked his head suggestively. “Oh shut up, you know what I mean.”
Varric patted Hawke on the shoulder. Usually, this would have been difficult for the dwarf. But, lucky for him, Hawke was still hunched over in astonishment. After a moment, Varric turned to Lorenzo.
“We are looking to do some light breaking and entering.” Varric said, flipping a silver piece off his thumb. It went flying through the air, and landed on the bed next to Lorenzo. “Nothing too strenuous. It’s all in good fun, you see.”
“I’ve got just the job for you.” Lorenzo said, and reached for the silver. Once in his possession, Lorenzo bit down on it. “I have a number of… illustrious clients. This very evening, one is having a soiree. Of sorts…” He grinned wickedly. “He likes pillow talk, see. So, we got to talking the other night. Bit of an over-sharer that one. Always wining about this and that. Dumb bloke. Anyway, he’s emptying his entire safe into a warehouse by the docks. I’d be happy to provide you gentleman with an address. For a price.” He winked at Varric. “Most of his guard will be at the main event. I’m guessing 2 or 3 men at the warehouse. Tops. Like you asked, it’s light work.”
“On second thought...” Varric said, and leaned in closer. “Forget about the B&E.” He gestured to Hawke. “My friend and I do that for a living. No use doing it on our day off.” He smiled cheekily. “But. now that you mention it, I want to know more about this party. What kind of shindig are we talking?”
“Don’t know much, actually. I was more focused on the loot.” Lorenzo said coyly. “But, I do know this. It’s invitation only. Not that I was invited.” He looked away, and pursed his lips. “I can see it, though. The look on his wife’s face. It would be quite the entrance. Like I said, he’s a real piece of work. And, from what I hear, she’s worse.” Lorenzo turned back to Varric. “If you’re looking to get in, I suggest you try a back way. No one uninvited. The Maker excused; no one is getting inside.”
“Somehow,” Varric said, and grinned up at Hawke. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I might not have the Maker. But, I have a close second.”
Well (as Varric often said), shit.
--
Varric was seated atop Hawke’s bed. Which… was a rarity. These days, he didn’t spend much time at the Amell Estate. For that matter, neither did Hawke. He was too busy saving the city, or whatever. A hero rarely had time for family dinners. Hell, tonight was the first time Varric had seen Leandra in over a month. She was rather fond of Varric. And Varric, in return, was fond of her. As he walked past the front, Leandra was on him. She had insisted that Hawke and he join her for an evening cup of…tea? Well, Varric wasn’t quite sure. It had been something hot. And woody. And unmistakably Ferelden. It wasn’t Varric’s (dare he say) ‘cup of tea’.
Despite the choice of beverage, it had been nice catching up with ‘momma Hawke’. Varric filled her in on his latest business ventures. In turn, she regaled him of the goings-on in the Amell Estate. It was nice. Domestic, even. Well, that was, until Garrett pulled Varric away. Leandra had asked their plans for the evening. In response, Hawke had gone absolutely pink. The tips of his ears were an especially bright hue. Before Varric could fill her in on the juicy details, Garret had carded Varric away. Not that Varric was complaining. Now, they were alone. In Hawke’s bedroom.
“Why are we even doing this, Varric?” Hawke asked, and tugged at his collar. Garrett stood in front of his dresser. After a moment, he thrust up his hands in an act of frustration. It was all rather dramatic, Varric supposed. Hawke was choosing an outfit. Not a casket. “This is ridiculous. I look ridiculous. And this isn’t going to work.”
“Well, big guy. You got one thing right.” Varric said, and rolled his eyes. He pushed off the bed, and swiftly (well, as swift as a dwarf could be) landed on the floor. “You do look ridiculous. A grown man. Can’t even lace his own tie. Oh, please.” He watched Garrett struggle, and thrust out his hand. Before, it had been funny. Now, it was getting kind of sad. “Just… let me do it.”
"It’s fine.” Hawke said, and pulled away from Varric. “I can do it.”
That was doubtful. Varric quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t start lying to me now, Hawke.” He said, and chuckled. “Not when we’ve made it this far already.”
“Quit it with that!” Garrett shouted, and balled up his fists. The outburst alarmed Varric. He hadn’t been prepared. Nothing (other than some light teasing) seemed to have brought it on. Once again, Hawke was a mystery. “This isn’t a joke. It’s not funny. I—can’t. I mean, I just can’t—”
“Hawke?” Varric asked.
“It’s—nothing.” Hawke fingered the tie pensively, and then dropped his gaze. “Bethy used to do this part.”
Ouch. Way to go, Varric.
Hawke already carried so many burdens. He had a whole city to care for. And, reminding him of his dead sister (a dead sister that, Varric suspected, Hawke blamed himself for), was not the best way to avoid those burdens. Now, he needed some damage control. And fast.
“Okay.” Varric said, and took a tentative step forward. “Okay.” He swiveled his wrists, and placed his palms outward. “Okay?” He said it again, as if waiting for conformation.
Hawke did not respond.
“I can’t reach, Hawke. I’ma need help here.” Varric placed either hand on Hawke’s chest. “Let me help. Okay?”
Thankfully, this iteration, Hawke crouched down. It wasn’t much. And Varric still had to push up to his toe tips. But, Varric was able to reach. He knotted the tie around Hawke’s (truly massive) neck. Varric made quick work of it. He was no stranger to formalwear. After Varric was done, he patted his friend on the arm. Hawke was trance-like. It didn’t do much to brighten the mood.
“Whadd’ya say?” Varric asked. “I did a fine job of it, did I knot?” Varric paused at his joke. Yikes. Not his best delivery. Hawke remained slack jawed. “Ah, never mind that. You ready to go?”
Hawke turned to face the mirror. It was dull, and dusty, slung above the oak dresser. Still, Varric could easily see both his and Hawke’s refection. Even from this distance. It was no rival to Merrill’s, but it got the job done. Hawke (Varric supposed) was admiring Varric’s handiwork. After a moment of contemplation, Hawke turned to him.
“Thank you, Varric.” He cleared his throat. “It looks—” He paused. “Quite nice.”
In that, Hawke was telling the truth. Garrett was dressed in deep red; the shade similar to the ‘bathrobe’ he wore around the Amell Estate. His robe was snug, nicely highlighting the muscular structure of his upper-chest and arms. His sleeves and collar were lined with a gentle yellow-gold trimming, which was accented nicely by the jet-black tie. An array of buttons lined one side of the jacket, but none of them were fastened shut. It looked better that way. The look was more casual. More mobile. It was much more Garrett Hawke.
Maker. He was a beautiful ox of a man.
“See?” Varric raised an eyebrow, and slugged his best friend on the arm. “I mean—you were right.” He snickered. “You look ridiculous. But, at least the tie is perfect.”
At that, Hawke returned his snicker. It was a brief and pathetic sound. Still, it sent Varric into overdrive. His heart beat rapidly. Stupid Hawke. And his stupid sounds. In what universe was that breathy-wheeze attractive? Damn, really, Varric had it bad.
--
“No invitation?” The doorman repeated, peering (well, craning his neck) up at Hawke. “I’m afraid. Sir. This event is invitation only.” He bit his bottom lip, and examined the crowd. “I have order to maintain. So, I kindly suggest, sir. Vacate my line immediately. I do not wish to force your removal.” The man eyed Hawke, and frowned. He was two heads shorter than Hawke, and far less muscular. If it came to blows, Varric knew where he’d put his money. And, no. It was not with the stodgy doorman. “I, Sir—” He lowered his voice. He stopped, seemingly coming to the same realization as Varric. “Please. Just, go.”
Hawke turned to Varric, and sheepishly shrugged. Varric knew that look. It was Hawke’s ‘well, I tried’ look. Usually, it was enough. Varric rarely forced Hawke’s hand. It was very difficult getting Hawke to do anything that Hawke did not wish. But, not tonight. Tonight, Varric had a plan.
“I wonder…” Varric began, looping an arm around Hawke. He pushed Hawke a step forward, away from the line. “…If you’d recognize the name. Do you know of Garrett Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall?”
“You are joking, right?” The doorman scoffed, and he skeptically assessed the duo. “I know of the Champion. Everyone does. Quit wasting my time.”
Despite his protest, the doorman paused. His gaze glazed over Varric: not human, not bulky, not a Hawke. But, it did catch on Garrett. It wasn’t uncommon. Hawke was quite the sight: human, ox-like, the in-person definition of ‘hero’. Really, it wasn’t that hard to see the resemblance. By the way the doorman paled, Varric assumed he’d made the connection.
“What was it that he did again?” Varric asked, and prodded his chin with his index finger. He turned to Hawke. “Oh, that’s right. He drove the Arishok out, didn’t he? But that was eons ago. I wonder what he’s up to these days.” Varric concluded, grinning broadly. “Hard to tell. That, Champion of Kirkwall.” He winked at Hawke, and then (on second thought) winked at the doorman too. “Bet he doesn’t go out much. I never see ‘im.”
“Oh, shut up.” Hawke grumbled. It was obviously directed to Varric, but the statement was loud enough for the doorman to overhear. “Not all of us are like you, Varric. Just because I don’t go to things like this…” He stretched out his arms, and motioned to the Estate. “Doesn’t mean I’m not up to other—more important—things.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Hawke.” Varric muttered, keeping eye contact. The doorman, watching from his post, was hanging on every word. Excellent. His plan was working. “I’m just sayin’. If you went out more, and by ‘out’ I mean out-out. Not to some dumb-site on the Coast. Maybe, people would actually recognize you. Crazy though. I know.”
“I—” Hawke began.
“Excuse me, sirs—” The doorman said, interrupting Hawke. “If you will give me a moment? I’ll be back momentarily.”
The doorman teetered up the front steps, and entered the estate. He shut the door behind him, preventing any potential party-goers inside without announcement. As the door was closed, the line of people eyed Hawke and Varric. They were curious. Who were they? Those men (man and dwarf?), causing all that commotion. Varric turned away, unhelpful in their monotonous quest for answers. Hawke might be a spectacle. But Varric? No. He wasn’t cut out for it. He preferred to work from the shadows.
“So?” Hawke asked, balancing on either heel. “What are our chances? You think ‘Mr.bowtie’ is fetching his boss?”
“Hmm…” Varric considered. “Either his boss, or his gaurds. I’m not sure what I want more. A fight, all-robed-up? Or to watch ‘Mr.bowtie’ grovel.” Varric raised his voice, in a poor imitation. “Sirs, I had no inkling. If I had know—but by the Maker. Come in. Come in. My deepest, most sincere, heartfelt apologies.”
Despite the quality of the humor, neither Hawke nor Varric could keep a straight face. In unison, they doubled over. Clutching their sides, Hawke and Varric were engulfed in laughter. Damn. Varric drank in Hawke’s laughter. It was hesitant, low-pitched, and all-encompassing. Varric decided it then. Even without the invitation, the party had been a success.
Especially without it.
“Well, sirs, it seems apologies are in order.” A voice said. Hawke and Varric’s necks snapped upward. Of course, ‘Mr.bowtie’ had returned. The two made eye contact, and tried (but failed) to suppress their giggles. Mr.bowtie did not seem impressed. He (successfully) suppressed a scowl. “Mistress Harimann was adamant. She would delight in The Champion’s company—” His upper lip twitched. “—regardless of invitation.” He smiled ruefully at Garrett. “Please, sirs. My apologies, again. Right this way.” He motioned to the front door, as if Varric and Hawke could not deduce the appropriate path. “And, of course, do enjoy your evening.”
“I plan to.” Varric grinned, and pushed past Mr.bowtie. As he passed, he slipped a Sovereign into the doorman’s front pocket. “For your trouble.” He said, and winked. “Coming, Champion? We have the whole night ahead of us.”
Garrett rolled his eyes, but ultimately, followed Varric inside. After all, their friendship was built on nothing, if not trust. Of which, Varric planned to take complete advantage.
--
Varric was tipsy.
It wasn’t new. He was used to tipsy. On certain days (usually days spent with Isabela), his tipsy was another man’s sober. He lived in a tavern. It was to be expected. Well, according to Hawke, anyway. Not that Varric actively fought to disprove it. Garrett was right about his lifestyle. Well, for the most part at least. He enjoyed drinking. And gambling. And fun. But, it wasn’t all that. He still had responsibilities. Hawke, chief among them.
Garrett, on the other hand, was sober.
All evening, he hadn’t accepted a single drink. The burly man was not abstinent from liquor. Quite the contrary. He just often drank alone. Or, on a number of occasions, with the Broody Elf. Rarely with Varric. And almost never at the Hanged Man. He wasn’t a social drinker. Pity. Varric very much was.
“What say you, Champion?” Lady Harimann said, with a thick Orlesian accent. Hawke twitched at the mention of his name, but quickly settled as the Lady of The House resumed her extensive chatter. “ ‘Zee Qunari tensions had reached ‘zheir apex, and Dumar was utterly content. ‘Ze permitted those savages to occupy the city. I said to him—I did warn him. Didn’t I, Yatel?” She paused, and nudged her husband.
“Hmm?” Lord Harimann asked, and snapped his head back to his wife.
Varric followed his line of sight. Lord Harimann had been… occupied…. ogling one of the male servants. Varric suppressed a giggle. The server (albeit vaguely) reminded him of Lorenzo. Ah, Varric was certain Lorenzo would be quite pleased to hear it. His services were indeed memorable. Not that Varric knew. He’d thought about it. But, Lorenzo wasn’t really his type. He tended to go for tall, dark, and unattainable. Besides, Varric preferred to find his own lay. Even if it required elaborate scheming.
“I was just saying to ‘zee Champion,” Lady Harimann continued. “Dumar had it coming. No? Maker, rest his soul, ‘zee fellow. But those beasts should not have been permitted to invade. ‘Zhis is civilized society, there is no room for such a filthy race.” At her racism, Hawke balled his fists. He caught Varric’s eye. He needed out. He needed out fast. Ignoring the tension (and everything but herself), Lady Harimann kept chatting. “I’m glad ‘zee dear Champion drove them out. I only wish ‘zhere had been more dead in ‘zhe street. Much too lenient, if you ask me. But, then again. I am not government. ‘zhough, I do wish to try my hand.” She smiled at Hawke. “I will have ‘zee Champion’s support, no?”
At this, Hawke pushed himself to his feet. The look on his face was one of abhorrent disgust. A sentiment, in which Varric mirrored. But, the dwarf was much better at hiding it. Hawke muttered a few parting phrases ‘chamber pot’ and ‘another drink, I think’. Then, without a look in Varric’s direction, stormed off into the crowd. Varric turned back to the table. He was left behind with a jumble of confused ‘social elites’. Two of which were the host of this event. Perfect.
“Is ‘zee Champion alright.” Lady Harimann asked, and cocked her head at Varric. “Was it something I said?”
Yes. It was.
“No, of course not, Lady Harimann.” Varric schmoozed. “I do believe our Champion was in need of a breath of fresh air. I will accompany him, I think. If you’ll excuse me?”
Varric stood up, and darted off to find Hawke. Honestly, he was thankful for Garrett’s sudden departure. Varric didn’t fancy spending another moment with those dreary Lords. Lorenzo had been right, Lady Harimann was quite the piece of work. He almost felt bad for Lord Harimann. Well, almost.
Varric pushed through the crowd. It was a rather difficult task. As far as he could tell, he was the lone dwarf at a party of humans. Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. After hearing Lady Harimann’s view of the Qunari, Varric didn’t expect the Dwarven elites (read: the merchant’s guild) to frequent her gatherings.
After a few minutes of searching, Varric caught sight of Hawke. He was tucked away in a corner, fidgeting with a small coin. His shoulder blades were pressed into the wall, almost melting into it. His head was down, staring at his leather-clad feet. When he caught sight of Varric, he gave a sheepish grin.
“What gives?” Varric asked, and joined Hawke against the stone. “You left me for dead, out there. Wasn’t sure I’d make it out alive.” Varric chuckled. “You know. I say that a lot. But I mean it. For real this time, Hawke. I thought I was a gonner.”
“She was just…so awful.” Hawke said, and re-pocketed his fidget coin. “Can you believe that? People died, Varric. And Qunari.” He took a breath. “Is that the lesson we learned? From the Qunari occupation? That we should be quicker to judge? To discriminate? To persecute? I know it was a shit show. I was there, believe me, I know. But, that can’t be the lesson. We’re better than that. Aren’t we?”
“You’re not talking about the Qunari, anymore.” Varric guessed. “The mages?”
Hawke looked up, eye swimming with worry. There it was again, that look. Hawke was a hero, hell-bent on helping everybody. The man, with the weight of the world. But, not tonight! Tonight was supposed to be relaxing. An adventure. Not more of the same. Varric wouldn’t allow it. He’d failed throughout the night. But not right now. Right now, Hawke needed a distraction.
Lucky for Hawke, Varric came prepared.
“Come with me.” Varric said, and reached for Hawke’s arm. “There’s something you are going to want to see.”
“What?” Hawke said, in protest. “No, Varric. I’m done. Let’s—let’s just go.”
“A little trust.” Varric said, for what was presumably the tenth time that evening. “It will do you good. I have an idea.”
--
“That one, Hawke.” Varric said, and Hawke pushed himself to the tips of his toes. Varric stretched out his index finger, and jabbed it into the air. Hawke followed his lead. “No. Not the green bottle. To the right. I want the red one.” Hawke passed the desired bottle (indicated by Varric’s displeased grunt), and placed a hand on one to his far right. “No! Too far.” Varric groaned in frustration. The dwarf was irritable. It was adorable. “With the lion seal. Yes!” Garrett had found it, and was now pulling it from the shelf. “That’s the one.”
Hawke grinned, as he lowered the bottle to Varric’s height. His cheeks were flushed pink, a consequence of his alcohol-flushed state. As he passed the bottle to Varric, their fingers brushed. Garrett fought the urge to pull away. He didn’t want the glass to break. The bottle was much too pretty to end up shattered on the stone.
“Oh! Look at her go.” Varric said, and watched as the champaign ‘popped’. The cap shot upward, and ricocheted off the ceiling. It came down toward Hawke, and he had to duck out of the way. “Ain’t that a beautiful sight?”
Varric took a short pull, and passed the bottle to Hawke. He did the same.
“This is quite the collection.” Hawke mused, pacing around the vacant cellar. “And the selection is astounding! You know. I can’t help but think of Fenris. He would be quite jealous.” Garrett grinned, a gleam in his eye. Feeling confident, he passed the bottle to Varric and (this time) purposefuly knocked fingers. Varric didn’t seem to notice. “I cannot wait to tell him.”
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Varric returned Hawke’s grin. “Why’d you think they had it all locked up? I’d squirrel it away too, if I had loot this good. Hell.” He plucked a nearby bottle off the shelf. “They don’t serve it like this at the Hanged Man.”
Hawke nodded in agreement. But, really, he didn’t know what they served at the Hanged Man. He didn’t spend much time there. And, when he did, Garrett made it a point not to drink. Not that he didn’t like the booze. Really, it was subpar. But, not inconsumable. The Hanged Man was too public. Even Varric’s suite was always busy. There were too many prying eyes. It wasn’t like now. Now, it was just Hawke. Hawke and Varric. It was the way he liked it.
“What….Varric?” Hawke asked, and broke away from Varric. “Do you think is the oldest thing here?” He picked a small pink vile off the shelf, and held it out to his companion. “This?”
Varric snorted, and shook his head. He approached Hawke, and tore the bottle from his grasp. He put it back atop the shelf, and joined Hawke in perusing the isles. Hawke and Varric searched in silence. Hawke, for one, had no idea what he was looking for. Still, he had a good time inspecting interesting bottles. The best part? When he held them up to Varric for inspection. Each time, the dwarf would laugh and exclaim on Hawke and his ‘poor education’. Apparently, he had a knack for choosing cheap swill. Still, if the bottle was pretty, it was coming off the shelf.
Hawke was in the process of picking up a bottle. It was fist sized, and filthy as the Amell Estate fireplace (which Gamlen refused to sweep). He fingered the side of it, and made two long streaks in the glass. It certainly looked old.
“Well?” Hawke asked, holding up the bottle. “What do you think? Could it be?”
“Jackpot!” Varric exclaimed. Hawke felt his insides heat up. Varric watched Hawke beam. After noticing Hawke’s bottle, Varric furrowed his brow. Hmm. Not the response Hawke was expecting. “What? Oh, not that. That’s swill. I’m talking about this.” Varric held up a different bottle. To Hawke, it looked indistinguishable from the rest. It was a boring brown, and was barely corked. There was no logo. No sigil. Nothing special. “Looky here, Hawke. This is a thing of real beauty. Worth a fortune, too.”
Hawke put down his bottle, and approached Varric. Up close, the bottle was just as unadorned. It was simple. And plain. And should not have Varric beaming so brightly. But, Varric was. Beaming, that was. He was grinning, from ear to ear. For a moment, Garrett was caught in a sort of trance. Varric just looked so excited. Over a dull bottle, too! Hawke wanted to… he didn’t know. Something. He wanted to share in Varric’s joy, somehow.
That’s when he noticed it. He and Varric, on either side of the bottle. Faces, inches apart. For a moment, Hawke felt the urge to plunge forward. To share in that wicked grin that adored Varric’s face. But, he restrained himself. Whatever it was. It was new. Garrett was a cautious man. He didn’t storm in head first. He thought things through.
Varric, Hawke already knew, was not a cautious man. He was controlled by emotion, and by impulse. So, in that moment when Hawke restrained himself, Varric did not. The dwarf lowered his gaze, and pushed forward. Garret, ever cautious, didn’t pull away. How could he? This was about to happen. They were about to—
“Lo!? Who goes?” A voice called, and pawed at the door. Hawke pulled away from Varric, and returned to full height. There was another knock, and Hawke and Varric froze. Shit! “Sunovabitch. They busted the lock!” There was a ‘blam!’, and the cellar door burst open. “What is going on down here!?”
Hawke was beginning to panic. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Varric and Hawke locked eyes.
“Follow my lead.” Varric whispered.
“Wha—” Hawke asked.
But, he was cut off. Varric had lunged forward, and pulled at Hawke’s tie. In an instant, he was yanked downward. Now, a pair of lips were on his neck. They ghosted up his jaw, and gently brushed up against Hawke’s earlobe. For a moment, Hawke forgot about the situation. All he could concentrate on was Varric’s lips. It felt good. It felt right.
“What are you two?” The voice called, and approached the two of them. Hawke didn’t pay it much attention. He was… otherwise preoccupied. “Oh! Oh.” The voice said, and rose in pitch. “I—um. I didn’t mean to. You really shouldn’t be in here. Erm—this area is, kind of, restricted?” The voice didn’t sound so sure. “And, you two should, um, leave.” Varric’s lips continued to roam, and showed no sign of stopping. Good. “I’m just going to. Um. Yeah, good talk. Sorry, for—yeah.”
Hawke listened as footsteps receded, and the cellar door slammed shut. He was still frozen in place. Waiting. Finally, it was Varric who pulled away.
“Well, Hawke.” Varric mumbled, still up close and personal. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Maker.
Yes.
--
By the time Garrett and Varric escaped, it was already dark outside. The sky above was littered with stars. They illuminated the path, as he and Varric maneuvered the winding Kirkwall street. Hawke followed after Varric in silence. This evening, Hawke had been misdirected on a number of occasions. This time, however, Hawke had a pretty good idea of where he was going. Varric was leading him Eastward, out of Kirkwall. He was either headed to Sundermount, or the Wounded Coast. Based on the time of day, Hawke favored the later. Besides, The Coast was beautiful at night.
“Put that thing away. Would you, Hawke?” Varric asked. He eyed a nearby Kirkwaller, and waved cheerfully. Varric lowered his voice. “All sorts out here tonight.”
“Besides you and me, you mean Varric?” Hawke asked. Still, Garrett tucked the stolen scotch in his robe. It was now hidden, but still left behind a visible bundle. He shifted his pouch to the opposite side, hopefully balancing it out. The faster He and Varric consumed it, the better. Hawke didn’t want leftover evidence. He hadn’t become Champion by leaving loose ends. If he had, Aveline would stop by more often. And, even if it was just a stolen bottle, Hawke wasn’t taking any chances. That woman could be frightening when she wanted to be. “A sketchy dwarf and a man-ox aren’t suspicious?”
“You have me there, Hawke.” He said, and lifted up a loose portion of fence. With a chuckle, he added. “After you, Ox.”
Before long, Varric and Hawke were side-by-side. They arrived unharmed at the Coast, and sat down in the sand. The two passed the bottle of scotch back and forth. Varric brought the bottle to his mouth, and tipped back his head. He took a long pull, savoring the content of the bottle. Afterward, Varric’s tongue darted across his bottom lip. He handed the bottle to Hawke, and cocked his eyebrow. Garrett blushed. He’d been staring.
Then, in a possible quest to embarrass Hawke further, Varric began loosening his belt buckle. Hawke started to watch, but quickly averted his gaze. What was Varric—
Maker! Varric ripped of his pants. With a soft ‘clank’, they pooled around his ankles. A moment later, his shirt followed suit. Hawke stared, jaw loose, at his half naked friend. Really, the only thing separating Varric from a nude dwarf was his loincloth. Boy. Hawke supposed he shouldn’t be thinking of a naked Varric. But, in this state of undress, it was a rather difficult subject to avoid.
“Are you coming, Hawke?” Varric asked. He was standing, looking out over the Coast. “Y’know. Before the buzz wears off?”
“I—I what?” Hawke asked, and followed Varric’s line of sight.
His friend rolled his eyes. Varric did this often. To Hawke, anyway. But, Instead of clarifying, Varric took off toward the Coast. He reached the edge of the shore, and leapt forward. A wave approached, and crashed over his head. It would not have scaled Hawke, but Varric was several feet shorter. His friend was submerged, and completely drenched. When he resurfaced, Varric was sporting a huge shit-eating grin.
“Maker’s Balls. That’s cold.” Varric said, and hugged himself. “Now… you get your ass over here, Hawke. You are coming in, one way or another. I’ve had a bit to drink, and I’m not above lifting you.” Varric paused, and waited as another (much larger) waved crashed over his head. “But, honestly Hawke, it would be a helluva lot easier if you came of your own accord. I’m no spring chicken. Just saying.”
Hawke entertained the thought. He doubted very much that Varric could lift him. But, the effort might be humorous. Hell, that was if the dwarf didn’t strain something in the process. He wasn’t twenty, anymore. Varric could hold his own in a fight, but he relied heavily on Bianca. Hawke decided to give Varric what he wanted. At this point, it was the easiest way.
Hawke laughed, and placed the bottle in a divot in the sand. They’d had enough, anyhow. Hawke peeled his shirt off his back. As he did so, Varric whooped and hollered from the Sea. He folded both his shirt and pants, and placed them next to the bottle. Really, there was only one option left. He waded into the Sea. He did it with more grace and finesse than Varric, but the result was the same. Damn, Hawke was grateful for the alcohol. Even with the pleasant buzz on his lips, Hawke could tell it was damned cold.
While Hawke had been undressing, Varric had swum further out. The water was far over his head, and the dwarf had begun to paddle. Hawke, after dunking himself once, joined Varric.
“See, Hawke?” Varric asked, and splashed him. “Isn’t it nice being spontaneous?”
“Maybe for you.” Hawke said, and dunked under the surface to avoid a second splash. Upon resurfacing, Hawke laughed. “I’m half convinced you brought me out here to drown. I can practically hear mother: ‘Garrett, Come here. What did I tell you, boy. I said: don’t swim and eat. You’ll get cramps. And what did you do? Hop right in.’ I’m no expert, but, I bet the rule can be applied to drinking as well. If I die. You’ll be the one to tell Mother.”
“No. No way.” Varric said, and stuck his lower lip out petulantly. “Can’t that be Carver’s job? Leandra would skin me alive. I don’t know if you know this, Hawke. But your mother is a scary lady. I’m talking Aveline level scary.” Hawke laughed, and Varric grinned at his reaction. “I can’t promise that you won’t drown. At this point, it’s 50/50.”
Varric grinned, and Hawke took the opportunity to dunk him. Varric was a shit, and right now, he deserved a reminder.
“Hey! Hey, now. Just wait.” Varric pleaded, locking his fists around Garret’s forearms. “If you did, I’d drag you to shore. I’d rough you up a bit too. Said you went down fighting a dragon, or some cool shit. Nothing better for the Champion, himself. A real hero’s death.”
“Thanks, Varric.” Hawke smiled. “It’s good to know. I can always count on you, especially regarding my public image. Priorities, right?”
Varric did not respond.
Hawke frowned. His concern, apparent in his features. The dwarf had locked up. He had stopped paddling. Clinging to Garrett’s forearms, Varric was now bobbing up and down with the tide. A wave passed by, and it knocked Varric into Hawke’s chest. He felt the dwarf bounce of his pecks, and then drift back to a safe distance.
The two were eye level. Varric was a bit lower, chin struggling to stay above the waves. Hawke, who could touch the bottom, curled his toes into the sand. The wave did nothing to throw off his balance, but he had reacted and reached out. It was out of habit. Above all, Hawke protected his friends. Varric, possibly out of embarrassment, lowered his gaze.
Varric’s eyes rested upon Hawke’s mouth. And, Hawke realized it then. For the second time that evening, they were close. Too close. Something, and Garrett had a pretty good idea ‘what’, was about to happen. If he wanted to stop it. Hawke would have to act.
But, Hawke didn’t want to. For the briefest of moments, he imagined it. Really. And truly. He imagined. In his mind, he was closing the gap. Garrett was pressing his lips against Varric’s, and feeling the sharp pull in his stomach that came with every kiss. It wasn’t bad. Actually, in his head, it was quite pleasurable. Huh.
No matter if he wanted the kiss, or not. There were a few things he needed to sort out.
Hawke was the practical one. He needed a moment to think. A moment to consider the consequences. He needed to talk to Varric, if at all possible. What did Varric want from him? This whole evening had been a whirlwind, and Hawke needed answers. Did Varric want a single kiss? To fuck? A full-blown relationship? His friend was never one for serious attachment. And there was Bianca to think about. It was possible that this was just a game to Varric. It was a harsh, but not improbable reality.
So, Hawke interrupted the moment.
“I don’t know about you. But I’m freezing.” He released his hold on Varric. “Are you ready to head back to shore?”
Varric, somewhat in a trance, nodded. He dropped Hawke’s arms, and began to paddle toward the Coast.
Hawke fought the dropping feeling in his stomach.
--
Back on the beach, a soaking dwarf and Human sat in silence. They had been like that for a while. Not talking. Hawke was almost content. But, not quite. The ‘question’ was still on his mind. What did Varric want? It had been building all day, and now was less of a question, and more of a scream.
Hawke broke the silence. He had to. He didn’t like screaming.
“What was today, Varric?” Hawke asked. “I need to know.”
“Hmm? What’s that?” Varric asked, dazed. Hawke repeated himself. This time, Varric sighed. “I’ve been kind of cryptic. I know.”
Varric brought his palms together, and rubbed them in a circle. The action looked natural. It was smart. But, Hawke was smarter. Garrett (with just a moment of hesitation) encased Varric’s hands in his own. The rubbing stopped, and Varric continued.
“I don’t know Hawke. I— I just wanted to show you fun. It’s been so long. It seemed you’d forgotten how. These days, you’re so uptight. And not just sometimes. All of the time! And I don’t know, but shit, I thought it’d be fun. To see a brothel. To go to a party. To take a dip off the coast.” He paused, eyes lingering on the push and pull of the tide. “To have fun. Just, for once. Like the old days.”
Well. That was… unexpected.
“I don’t know what to say.” Hawke cleared his throat. “But, it was. It was fun Varric. Maybe not at first. But I had a good time.” Now, it was Garrett’s turn to hesitate. “Can I ask you something, Varric?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know Hawke.” Varric said, and grinned into the distance. “I’m a dwarf of vast knowledge. But, even I don’t know where Meredith keeps her diary. That’s something you’ll need to find out on your own. Here’s a tip. Look for stickers. Maybe little Chantry Sunbursts. That would just be darling.”
“I’m being serious.” Hawke rolled his eyes. “And, yes. I know I’ve been that way a lot lately. You’ve made that point clear. But, I want to know.”
Garrett cupped Varric’s jaw. He used his free hand. The other was still in Varric’s lap. He had not yet released his hold (he had no intention to). The dwarf jolted, but did what Hawke intended. Varric turned towards Hawke, and his eyes widened.
“Do you like me?” Garrett asked. “Romantically, I mean.”
“What?” Varric tossed his head back, and laughed. Hawke released his jaw. Again, he hadn’t expected… this reaction. Whatever it was. “You can’t be serious. Maker, Hawke. What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know, Varric.” Garrett furrowed his brow. Varric was beginning to grate on him. Was the dwarf really that cruel? Did he not think Hawke could see through his guise? “We almost kissed today. Two times, at least.”
Varric went quiet.
“Ok, fine. Not talking?” Garrett huffed.
He wasn’t mad, not really. Frustrated was a better term. Hawke hadn’t been this bothered. Not in a long while. Something about the situation irked him. He didn’t like the breakdown in communication. This had been a long time coming. The whole evening, at the very least. Probably longer.
“That’s fine.” Hawke repeated. “But, can I tell you something, Varric? The reason I’m so uptight? I mean. The real reason. Not the bullshit Champion nonsense.” Hawke dropped his voice, and leaned away from Varric. This was getting personal. He felt an urge for distance. If not emotionally, than physically. “I—I feel all this pressure. All the time. It’s a need— I need to help them. I can’t be goofing off. Not when they need me. I don’t have the same luxury you do. I can’t just laze about the Hanged Man. Or go off sailing with Isabela.” He paused, and cleared his throat. Not the point. “There are consequences to what I do. I don’t always get to do what I want.”
Varric shifted, filling in the space Hawke left. Varric shifted his weight, and ended up pressed up against Hawke. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Even if Garret was still miffed.
“And what? I do?” Varric asked. His voice was scratchy, and scarcely audible. “Because, trust me Hawke, I don’t. There are always consequences. But, sometimes you just got to do it. Damned the consequences. It’s the only way to live.” Hawke turned to his friend, and swiveled his head. He noticed it, then. Varric was directly below him, his neck craned upward. It was in perfect symmetry to Hawke’s downward gaze. Their noses were inches apart. “Tell me Hawke. What is it? What do you want?”
It was now. Or never. Garrett had a choice to make.
Screw the consequences.
In a slow (but deliberate) motion, Hawke filled in the gap. He gave Varric enough time to pull away. Really, it was plenty. He was moving at a glacial pace. Hawke closed his eyes. He didn’t want to witness rejection. Not now. His lips descended upon Varric’s. Everything was uncertain. But, they made contact. Which (Hawke supposed) was a good sign? The dwarf had not pulled away.
Hawke pursed his lips slightly. This goaded Varric into action. The dwarf reached up, and tangled his fingers into Hawke’s dripping wet hair. As he did so, he yanked Hawke downward. Garrett’s lips no longer hovered on top of Varric’s. Instead, Varric had crashed them down upon his own. Their teeth clinked, and Hawke widened his jaw. Varric tilted his head, and did the same. Garrett (not so hesitantly as before) pushed his tongue between the gap. It slid past Varric’s teeth, and lapped up against the roof of his mouth. Varric inhaled in surprise, but did not back down. Instead, he reached forward and cupped Hawke’s jaw. Varric prodded it open, and deepened the kiss. With the extra room secured, Varric slipped his tongue inside Hawke’s mouth. Not that Hawke was going to complain. The reciprocation was greatly appreciated. He found Hawke’s tongue, and slid them together. To express his thanks, Hawke groaned into Varric’s mouth.
It was exactly what he had hoped. And more. But, this wasn’t over. Garrett pulled back. As he did so, the seal of spit broke with a ‘pop’. He straightened his neck.
“That.” Hawke said. “I wanted to do that.”
“Well dammit, Hawke.” Varric said. Below Hawke, Varric looked dazed. He was wide-eyed, and almost bewildered. It was adorable. “Why the hell didn’t you just say so? Would’ve saved me the trouble. And all that pining. You sunnofabitch—”
He didn’t have an answer. They were idiots. That much was obvious. Instead, Hawke went in for another kiss. This one, unlike the last, caught Varric off guard. His swear was cut short, and Varric made that apparent. Instead of reciprocating, Varric laughed. It was a chuckle, infectious in nature. It was a pleasant sensation that sent vibrations throughout Hawke’s entire body. Yes. Garrett definitely could get used to this. Maybe the even-keeled Hawke (sometimes) deserved a break. He could have some fun. And Varric? Varric was testament to that. Hawke could get used to his company. After all, Varric was his best friend. And new lover (boyfriend?).
Hawke couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the job.