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Pairing: Varric and Hawke (Dragon Age II)

Prompt: 55; “Our first date is a picnic on a beach under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?”

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“I don’t know why I listen to you, Varric,” Hawke muttered, bringing a hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation. The day had been awful with a capital “A” – he’d just gotten a letter from Bethany about her new post with the Wardens, which sent his mother into a tizzy again about how her leaving was his entire fault because it was his idea to take her into the deep roads in the first place.

As if you could tell Bethany to do anything -- let’s be real.

Then Ataashi had taken it upon himself to try and dig a new basement under his uncle’s bed, which led to an entirely different problem, especially since he wasn’t even living with his uncle anymore and hadn’t the faintest idea how that damned beast was getting out of the manor.

“What are you talking about Hawke? Things not go according to plan, per the norm?” questioned the dwarf as he leaned back in his chair, glasses perched on the tip of his nose while he scanned his newest chapter of Hard in Hightown, quill at the ready to mark any misspellings or scratch in better ideas – Hawke glared at him a bit because he could practically see the laughter trickling from his words.

“You know exactly what I mean! I did just as you said to try and get Merrill’s attention and make her realize I would much rather enjoy her company in…other ways,” he muttered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and bow his head into his open palms, “but it didn’t work.”

Varric looked at Hawke over his manuscript with an arched eyebrow and caught the look of desperation in his posture, his fact frustrated and his hair disheveled. “Okay, fine, I’ll listen, Waffles – what exactly did you do and what happened?” At the mention of the nickname that he’d pretty much forced the dwarf to give him, Hawke looked at him through his fingers for a second before rolling his eyes and delving in to the tale at hand.

“We’d just finished up our scouting for Aveline, making sure the coast was free of any bandits or qunari, and I decided to try something different – I tried to be you. Which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best thing,” he muttered, shaking his head where it was still clasped by his hands. “I took us down onto the beach to watch the sun set – and I had it all planned Varric – there was a blanket, I had a picnic basket with fruit and such, a bottle of wine, the works! She took one look at what I’d set up and where I was sitting, holding out a hand to her to join me, and she just cocked her head to the side and asked me…”

“Asked you what?”

There was a heavy sigh from behind those large, calloused palms, before Hawke pushed himself away from the table and stood up, pacing a bit in silence, mulling over the words, before finally meeting the dwarf’s eyes and exclaiming, “She said, ‘Our first date is a picnic on a beach underneath the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?’” in a pretty decent parody of the petite elf’s voice – well, as good a parody as a humongous warrior could make.

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, Hawke waiting for a response, Varric trying his damnedest not to laugh, though he was sure he’d crack a rib with the effort.

It took a few tries, but Varric finally was able to open his mouth without laughing, his grin spreading across his face, “How is that my fault? How was this you ‘listening to me’?” he asked.

“You told me to take her somewhere quiet, away from the norm – to show her a different side of myself that doesn’t involve armor and blood,” Hawke pointed out, looking disgruntled at his friend’s mirth at his distress. “I didn’t mean something you’re not comfortable with yourself, Hawke. Daisy’s a great girl, but you should show her that in your own way, not in my way, not how these cheesy characters do it,” Varric retorted, waving the pages in his hand as he removed his glasses with the other. “Bring her to the Hanged Man for a game of wicked grace with people she knows – hell, take her to the manor without your mom around and play wicked grace the adult way and strip your way out of celibacy – it’s your call. Just be you, Waffles.”

“Just be me? It’s that easy?”

“It’s a lot easier than trying to be me, that’s for damn sure.”