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Varric had known Hawke for a little over a month. Which, yeah, wasn’t too long to get to know someone in the grand scheme of everything. But that didn’t bother Varric much. When you knew, you knew.
Varric had fallen for Hawke in under a week. Four days to be exact. It was unprecedented. Terrifying. And the best thing that had ever happened to him. The thirty-one day span of time that followed only solidified his infatuation. No way around it, Varric would do anything for Hawke.
Which, he supposed, would be a relevant fact in just a moment.
Their introduction had been an accident. Varric first caught sight of her outside Fanshawe college; an odd place to meet, as neither he nor Hawke attended Fanshawe.
Him and Bianca had just broken up. And since Bianca was the one with the car, he’d needed a way home from her place. The bus route that passed by the college was heavily frequented. Varric would have an easier time getting service along Fanshawe Blvd than test his luck on any sidestreet.
Varric never did manage to catch that bus.
Hawke, accompanied by her twin terrors, had been at Fanshawe for a college visit. Beth and Carver had just started grade thirteen. It would be another calendar year before either twin was ready for post-secondary education. But Carver, who had his heart set on Western U, wanted to explore his backup options.
After a drive-by robbery-gone-wrong, the small Hawke family offered Varric a ride home. And boom. Just like that, Varric found himself a new designated driver. And, a new love of his life. Or, at least, a new love of his year.
So, 5 weeks and 1 day later, when Hawke asked Varric for a favor, he had no choice but to agree. And agree he did. He never did have a choice. Not when it came to her.
“Stop by tomorrow, will you? I’m off at five.” Varric said to Hawke, who was currently flipping through Varric’s Hulu suggestions. “We could catch Jurassic Park or something. Can’t believe you haven’t caught it yet. How old are you even?”
“Rain check on your dinos.” Hawke said, crinkling her nose at his ‘recently watched’. “I got beer league tomorrow.”
“Huh?” Varric asked, ever so eloquent.
“‘S the best.” Hawke mused, turning to face him. “It’s recreational hockey.”
“Huh?” Varric reiterated, no closer to understanding.
“Rec league is hockey in its purest form: unencumbered by money, skill, ambition, fans, or advancement." Hawke explained in her best dictionary voice. “And you say I’m the infant.”
“I know rec league, you ass.” Varric clarified with a fond eye roll. “But…why beer league?”
“No insult.” Hawke said with a smile that offered peace. “We're sponsored by the Hanged Man. Y'know, that dive past Southside Park.” Varric nodded. He was familiar with the place. A little too familiar, if his 19th birthday was anything to go by. “They fund our uniforms and equipment. And, in return, they get to advertise on us. They even get naming rights to the team.”
“Go Hang Yourself?” Varric guessed.
“Dark. And not far off.” Hawke laughed. “We’re ‘The Hanged (Wo)men + Seb’. Well, we were ‘The Hanged (Wo)men + Seb’. Now we’re just The Hanged (Wo)men.”
“I see.” Varric said. He didn’t. “No beer in beer league then.”
“There’s plenty of beer.” Hawke grinned. “Alcohol consumption is encouraged, but not required. Technically, we’re ‘supposed to’ visit the Hanged Man after the game. Most of the time we just drink beforehand.” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Sometimes during. Okay. Mostly during.”
Ah.
Varric finally understood. She thought herself so clever. No way he was falling for that one.
“You had me for a moment there.” He said with an eye roll. “Nice try, Hawke. But I’m not that gullible. If you want to bail on me fine. Just so you know, I think you’d love my dinos. They’re massive.”
“No bullshit.” She said and shoved him gently. “You’ll see. Come hang out after next practice.” Hawke suggested. Her face lit up. “We’ll stop by Bela’s and meet some of the team.”
Well shit, Varric thought. It almost looked as if Hawke had an idea. Those could be dangerous. Especially for him.
“It wouldn’t be weird?” He asked.
“Oh yeah, they’ll definitely make it weird. But, it won’t be your fault.” Hawke supplied. “They’re curious. I’ve been chatting you up, actually.”
His heart hammered at the thought. In excitement or dread, Varric wasn’t sure. He had yet to meet her main friend group. He’d heard of them plenty, per Hawke. They were interesting, if half of what Hawke said could be believed.
Yeah, interesting was one way to put it.
“I—” Varric stumbled, it was uncharacteristic of him. Around her, the usually smooth talker was useless. “Dishing my dirt?”
“One hundo percent.” She grinned. “Actually, there’s something I wanna ask first.” She smiled shyly, as if she had something big to confess. Trouble. Trouble. Trouble. “Okay, truth? I’ve wanted to for a bit now. I’m not sure how to put it.”
Varric.exe has stopped working.
This had to be it! The moment he’d been waiting for since day 4.
“I—want you to join my team.” Hawke said.
“Me too! I feel the same.” Varric said, and then reeled at her question. Wait. What had she said? “Rewind. You want me to what!?”
“Join my team.” She repeated with an excited hop, which ruffled the couch. “It’ll be the best!”
Varric, a poor excuse for a Canadian, who’d never played a day in his life, very much doubted that. But, when Hawke asked, he couldn’t deny her. Which is how Varric ended up in a cozy home in Woodstock, face-to-face with half of his new team.
The home belonged to one Fenris and Isabela, new parents of a child Hawke and co lovingly referred to as “Bug”. Before Bug entered the picture, Varric gathered that Fenris and Isabela had rented the room out to a floppy-haired man named Anders. The man had originally introduced himself as Dr. A, which received a chorus of ‘boos’ from both the new parents and Hawke. Whether Anders was a doctor or not, Varric wasn’t certain.
“Our goalie, Seb, and Anders here have gotten into a bit of a tiff.” Hawke explained, as she leaned over to retrieve her bag of popcorn from the microwave. “Team sided with him and now Seb won’t play until we apologize. Which, yeah, won’t happen.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Fenris added from the doorway from the kitchen into the living room. He had a tight hold on Bug, who he bounced up and down as he spoke. “When he’s done with his whining, he’ll be back.”
“If you don’t gut him before that for being such a baby about it first.” Isabela said and mimicked a punch from her spot on the couch. Varric looked toward Hawke for an explanation.
“Seb and Fenris play together in adult rec.” Hawke filled him in. “More serious than beer league. With far better players. But just as violent.”
“Violent is...” Fenris paused with a small smile to himself. “How I’d put it yeah.”
“We need 6 people on the ice, and at least 1 sub off it. The league is co-ed, which means they won’t let us play without Seb on the ice. Or, a replacement Seb. We got Anders as our sub. But…”
“ I've seen coupons save more." Isabela said with a huff.
“Yeah. He kind of sucks balls.” Hawke shot the man, the doctor??, in question an apologetic smile. “No offense.”
“Crush my dreams, why don’t you.” Anders said, but as far as Varric could tell, there was no malice behind it.
“You make a far better cheerleader anyhow.” Isabela said. “Now if I can only get you to wear the skirt. Aveline’s girls make it look so easy.”
“Anyway…” Hawke pushed forward, ignoring Anders and Isabela’s bickering. “We need a goalie. A guy goalie. Preferably one that isn’t Anders. And that’s where you come in.”
“You want me to fill in for Seb?” Varric asked. “I don’t even play. And I’m no goalie. If Anders sucks balls, I suck massive whale balls.”
“Do whales have balls?” Fenris pondered, cooing the question at Bug. “Yes they do. Yes they do.”
“You’re beefy enough that it won’t matter.” Hawke said, eyeing him up and down. “And, again, no offense to Anders, but the bar isn’t very high to begin with.”
“What? My momma told me I’ma make the big leagues.” Anders asked, clutching his chest in mock heartbreak.
“One day, buddy.” Isabela smirked. “And, when I'm NHL material, I’ll make sure you won’t be up in the nosebleeds.”
“Har har.” Anders said, and flung a Cheeto at her. Which she caught and promptly ate.
“Nice one.” Varric said, encouraging her.
“Fuck no. If you and I are going to share the ice, then you’ve got to beef up your trash-talk game.” Isabela said. “Come at me with your best chirp.”
“You…” Varric faltered. “You want me to... what? Tweet at you?”
His fingertips brushed up against the Android in his pant pocket. Good thing Hawke had made him download Twitter last month. Apparently, in order for her to ‘subtweet’ him, he needed one. He didn’t really get it, but, again, he couldn’t say no to her.
“@Knife_Gurl_Bela, add me.” She said. “But no. Not what I’m going for.”
“Did you say knife girl?" Varric asked, but it went largely ignored.
“A chirp is an insult. Often light-hearted, or easily ignored,” Anders said, initially confident. But, with a peek at Isabela, he made an addendum. “And occasionally it is neither.”
“Not when I’m on the ice.” Isabela confirmed.
“So, you want me to cuss you out?” Varric asked to be sure. He hadn’t misheard.
“Hit me.” She nodded. He gave her the best he had.
“Float like a butterfly. Sting like a bee.” He paused. “The hands can’t hit what the eyes can't see."
“Did you just quote Muhammad Ali?” Hawke asked with a deep snort.
“I didn’t think you’d notice.” Varric said sheepish. “No offense, but you’re not exactly cultured.”
“Says who?”
“Two words: Jurassic Park.”
“I’ll watch your lame dinos, dammit. I never said I wouldn’t.” Hawke said with a pout toward Varric. “Anders, hand me a Cheeto. Varric’s outfit could use the cheese dust.”
“Can’t be Muhammad Ali.” Anders said with eyes locked on Varric. He passed Hawke a Cheeto. “He doesn’t have the right flow.”
Uh, what?
Varric dodged Hawke’s attempt to soil his clothing just in time to ask a question.
“Flow?” Varric asked, baffled, for what would not be the last time tonight. “What’s flow?”
“Catch up, Varric. Flow.” Hawke said, cheese-dust covered index finger tangled around a lock of dark hair. “Lettuce. Salad. Flow.”
“Yeah Hawke.” Isabela said. “Kick him out of here. Your man hasn’t got salad. Nor muzzy—.”
“Muzzy?” Varric asked again, not sure if he wanted an answer or not.
“No mustache, man.” Anders said, as if that explained any of it. “No problem though. Only Seb and Bela have ‘em. And last I heard, Seb shaved his off as soon as Movember was through. It’s for the best. Bela can't handle the competition.”
“Oh, you can fuck right off.” Isabela said, her middle finger raised lazily toward her assailant from her perch atop the couch.
“No muzzy.” Hawke confirmed. “But man, he’s got chest hair in spades. Fuzzy from the neck down. I’ve seen it.”
“Yeah you have.” Varric said with a true bravado. He took pride in the chest hair. “Just call me Big Foot.”
“Can do, Feets.” Isabela said, then grinned. “You know what they say about big feet.”
“Big skates?” Varric asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
“And a massive coc—.” Isabela began.
“Nope!” Hawke interrupted with an eye roll. “Don’t scare him off Bela. I’ll be so pissed at you. I actually like this one.”
Ope. So much for subduing the blush. Isabela descended on him in a second flat.
“Busted.” Isabela said with eyes on Varric’s red face. “Someone’s got a heart-on for our fierce captain.”
Oh, shit.
Varric went into quickfire mode. Lucky for him, Fenris saved his ass. Intentional or not, Varric was grateful.
“And she goes by the name Bela.” Fenris said with a low chuckle. The man entered the room and kissed Isabela atop her head. “C’mon darling. Bug’s just about ready for a bedtime snack.”
“Got a spare in the fridge.” Bela said and held up her beer. “Tuesdays are pump and dump night.”
“Hmm.” Fenris considered her for a moment. “Then kick these freeloaders out. Time for my bedtime snack.”
“Oh baby.” She said and leaned into a kiss.
Varric wasn’t sure how to react. Should he turn away? The others made the decision for him when they shielded their eyes and revived their earlier round of ‘boos’.
Isabela turned her attention to the rest of them.
“You heard the man.” She snorted. “Get out. I’m ‘bout to get laid.”
All three of them began at once:
“Gross.” Anders complained. “This is why I moved out.”
“It’s only 8:30.” Hawke whined. “Don’t be lame.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Varric finished.
--
Before long, Varric found himself at his first game.
He wasn’t on the ice this time around, thank god. Bela had wanted to ‘drop him off the deep end’, but Hawke took pity on him. Varric had a chance to watch a game before his debut on Monday.
“Hey stripes, the whistle ain’t a dick, get it out of your mouth.” Isabela sneered from her forward spot on the ice.
With two flat hands, the referee formed a “T”, placing the fingertips of one hand under the other.
Oh. That was a new one. Varric looked over at Fenris for an answer. In lieu of Hawke, the role of ‘hockey guru’ had fallen to him.
“What does—”
“Unsportsmanlike conduct.” Fenris said, eyes glued to his phone. On the screen, an alien figure jumped from one platform to the next.
“You didn’t even look.” Varric said in good humor.
“Don’t have to.” He said. #15, aka Isabela, extended her middle finger at the ref. “It’s Bela. Never bet against easy money.”
Varric couldn't argue with that.
Varric, Fenris, and Bug were stationed behind the goal of the “Home” team, which for today, wasn’t the Hanged (Wo)men. The trio sat high above the rink in an alcove behind a thick sheet of glass. The alcove was attached to the main lobby of the community center, and therefore didn’t have the same winter bite as the rink-side seating in the arena.
Fenris had claimed the cold wasn’t good for the baby. Bela made it clear that her boyfriend had been a ‘frozen pussy’ long before Bug ever came to be. With the number of scarves that adorned Fenris in that moment, Varric didn’t doubt her assessment.
Most of the game passed uneventfully. By the gap between the second and third period, Varric’s attention had begun to slip. Lucky for Varric, Carver Hawke could fix that.
“Hey Siri? I need a synonym for ‘opportunity’.” Carver asked and squeezed himself on the open spot of the bench between Varric and Fenris. Carver thrust a laptop at Fenris, who exchanged it for his son. Carver greeted the child with a kiss followed by a swear. “She’s already used it 15 fucking times.”
“Chance? Fortune? Right set of circumstances?” Fenris supplied, combing over the Google doc with a practiced hand.
“Western U apps?” Varric guessed. He’d been over at the Hawke apartment the night before. Carver had passed on dinner with some offhand comment about an application deadline.
“Western U app, singular. Not apps.” Carver corrected with a huff. It jostled Bug, who gave the young Hawke a disapproving glare. Maybe. Varric wasn’t really a kid person. “I had mine done last month. But not Beth. She’d rather kill time on the ice with the geriatrics.”
“I’m twenty five.” Varric said in self defense.
“If I get into Western U, she does too.” Carver ignored him. “I’ve lugged her ass through our super senior year. We’re not about to split up now.”
Varric got the vibe that Carver wasn’t saying any of that for him. He let the conversation drop as Fenris and Hawke worked through Beth’s app. Varric turned his attention back to the game.
The third period had just begun. Varric spotted Hawke, #40, easy enough. She neared the goal of the home team in pursuit of a player on the opposite team. The opposition maneuvered around Hawke without effort and almost changed their trajectory. Before the player could reverse their direction, however, Hawke slammed them into the nearest board with a hard ‘crack’.
Varric had seen Hawke fight before. They had met in a drive-by robbery-gone-wrong, after all. Before Varric had even known her name, he’d known that Hawke had a mean left hook. This, Varric supposed, is where she’d first perfected it.
Out of nowhere, the opposition landed a hit square in her face.
Varric froze, muscles tensed. He prepared himself for all hell to break loose. He didn’t prepare himself, however, for Hawke to propel herself away from the fight. She collided into the reach of her nearest teammate: a slight woman with unkempt black hair.
“C’mon Stannard.” Carver scoffed at the barrier of glass. “I’ve seen bigger hits at Little League.”
The small woman held fast onto Hawke’s shoulder to keep her from advancing on the Stannard person. Hawke’s momentary pacifism paid off. The ref allowed Hawke to continue to play and sent the opposition to the box to serve their 5 minutes.
“Do you play?” Varric asked Carver. The outburst was the first time Carver had paid attention to the game since the start.
“Nah. More of a baseball guy myself. Not so much into all this.” Carver said and motioned in no particular direction. “I’m here for Beth. I don’t belong on the ice.” He paused. And then, with the detached tone only a teenager could muster, added. “Neither do you, if I’ma be honest.”
“Whaaat?” Varric asked lamely. He knew what.
“Dude. You’re so obvious.” Carver shrugged. “You’re over all the time. Always have at least three too many buttons popped. And you’ll legit do anything she asks. Exhibit A: picking up Seb’s slack.”
“Woah. Why the sudden hostility.” Varric said with a faux bravado. “I’m not allowed to help out a friend?”
Another lame excuse.
“Exhibit B: I watched her convince you to eat soap. Soap!” Carver said exasperated. Fenris, who had the decency to remain quiet up until that comment, snickered. “And not that scented Sephora shit either. Man you licked a plain bar.”
Double busted.
“It wasn’t that bad. A bit bitter. And it made her laugh. I’m not sure if a whale can laugh. But, if it can, she sounds like what I’d imagine one would sound like.” Varric said with a dreamy half smile. He caught himself before he went into full crush mode. “Okay. I like her. More than a normal amount.”
“Yeah I know.” Carver huffed. “We all know.”
“Does she?” Varric asked not sure if he wanted a real answer.
“Dunno. Don’t care.” Carver finished. “If not, then she’s an idiot. Which would explain a lot about Beth. Not her fault. Beth and I didn’t choose our upbringing.”
“Fenris?” Varric asked in a second tempt of fate. “Could you —”
“Nope.” Fenris answered.
That pretty much put a damper on the rest of the conversation. The three of them, plus Bug, silently waited out the rest of the period. When the horn blared to signal the end of the game, Varric caught sight of Hawke on the ice. She turned her head up at him and motioned him over. Thankful for the excuse to leave, he bid Fenris and Carver goodbye and left the rec center to step into the chilly arena.
Varric wove his way down the bleachers to the ice. Hawke had already lined up to exchange her gg’s with the other team. She now waited patiently for him on the player’s bench. But, before Varric could step foot on the bottom row, he found the path blocked by a trio of small people.
There were three of them: all red-haired with crimson war paint across their noses and onto their cheeks. It reminded Varric of a crude swipe of blood. Which, ah. Varric kicked himself for not putting it together sooner. They were called the Hanged wo(men), after all.
“Friend or foe?” The tallest, and likely eldest, asked him.
“Friend. Definitely a friend.” Varric answered. “Go red.”
The child, who seemed to deem that answer acceptable, moved to the side. Varric descended down the final step and caught sight of Hawke. She was caught up in conversation with an older red-haired woman. The two were unlacing their skates and stuffing their possessions into their bags. When Varric approached the pair, he waved.
“Hi stranger. Nice trophy.” Varric said to Hawke and motioned to the puffy mess that used to be a lip. Hawke scoffed at him. “Congrats on your win. Carver called the game a Barnburner. Which might be a good thing. Or might be a bad thing. Hard to tell.”
The red haired woman laughed at that.
“Depends on who yer asking.” Aveline answered. She had an accent that Varric couldn’t place.
“Aveline, Varric. Varric, Aveline.” Hawke supplied. “Our OG MILF before Bela stepped up to the plate.”
“Oh. I met your cheer team.” Varric said in place of an introduction. “Very dedicated fanbase you’ve got there. Love the facepaint.”
“Not my credit. ‘S Donnic, their da’s, idea.” Aveline said and addressed Hawke. “This is him then, innit? Your man. What’d Bela call him? Feets?”
“Feets, at your service.” Varric said and offered her a hand with her stuff. “Though, I really hope that doesn’t stick.”
“Too late for that I reckon. Bela’s got a stubborn streak a kilo wide. And twice as deep.” Aveline said with a frown in Bela’s direction. The woman in question hadn’t noticed Aveline’s chirp. “Anyway, here’s your bucket Hawke.” She said and passed Hawke her helmet. “I’ve got to be off. Kids’ll be ravenous in a ‘mo. And a ravenous trio ain’t a one parent job. Ta.”
Aveline peeled off, which left Varric and Hawke behind to pack up the rest of Hawke’s gear. They waved goodbye to the remainder of the team: Beth and Carver who they’d see at home, Bela, Anders, and the slight woman from before, whom Hawke called Merrill.
Hawke carried her equipment out to the car, with Varric trailing behind her with the leftover sticks. It felt nice to leave the bright arena and head into the quiet night. Hawke had parked in the dirt lot a block and a half up from the rec center. Varrc enjoyed the walk, despite the crisp January air.
They arrived at Hawke’s Toyota and deposited the equipment into the trunk. Hawke popped the hood to check the oil, as was her ritual. The old gal had a leak, and neither Hawke, nor the twins had the cash flow to worry about it at the moment.
The ease and silence of the night had Varric thinking back to his earlier conversation with Carver. Neither he, nor Fenris, had anything useful to offer. But, Aveline and Bela had both called Varric ‘her man’. And Hawke hadn’t corrected them. Which could be good for him.
He wouldn't be here, if it wasn’t for her. He’d be at home. Which would be preferable to on skates, but only slightly. Mostly, he wanted to be where she was.
Did she want that too? Is that why she asked him to join the Hanged (Wo)men? The thought had been on his mind since he first met the team. Why him, and not Donnic, nor Carver, nor Fenris, who would be the obvious choice.
Only one way to know for sure.
“I like you. A ton.” Varric confessed in a blur over the hood of the Toyota. “And truth? I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while.”
Ever since she stopped a highway robbery. On her own, might he add.
Silence. And then...
“Cool beans.” Hawke said with a resolute ‘slap’ of the hood. She tossed the dipstick aside. “You wanna hit the A&W then? I could go for fries. Your treat.”
She turned toward him and motioned to the passenger seat. Varric slipped in, as if on cue. Still unable to deny her.
“Pff. You don’t seem that surprised.” Varric said with a lighthearted sigh. The panic began to set in soon after. “Wait. Why aren't you surprised?”
“You ate soap.” Hawke said without effort. As if that explained it. Hawke, thankfully, elaborated. “And it wasn’t even good soap. Either you have zero standards. Or you’re hot for me. Which I’m good with. I’m hot for you too.”
What. The. Fuck.
“You — no bullshit?” Varric asked befuddled. Hawke nodded in agreement on the other side of the windshield. “Oh my god. You asshole. Why didn’t you say?”
Hawke slid into the driver's seat and offered him a sheepish grin. From that, Varric had his answer.
“Hawke. Tell me you don’t find humor in my pain.” Varric hissed without any real heat behind it. “Tell me I’m not ‘hot’ for a sadist.”
“Oh! And an apple turnover.” Hawke said in an abrupt transition. She buckled herself in and put the Toyota in reverse. “You up for a drive to Wortley? I have beef with the one in London Main. They overfry.”
“Why even ask? Not like I’d say no.” Varric said and slid deeper into the passenger seat. Out of embarrassment or comfort, he wasn’t really sure. “And I’d kill for a turnover.”
“‘m not here to share.” Hawke said and reached out a hand to brace herself on the far side of Varric’s headrest. She reversed the car out of their spot.
“Good. Neither am I.” Varric said with a glance at her. “You’d drip your sweat all over it anyway.”
Varric was only half kidding. He didn’t notice it much before in the arena nor on the walk over, but in the enclosure of the car, Hawke very much reeked.
“Get it all out now Varric. It’ll catch up with you come Monday.” Hawke said with a brief raspberry at him. “But for now...how ‘bout a little taste.”
Before Varric could ask what that meant, Hawke leaned over the gearshift and kissed him. It didn’t last. The kiss: salty, pungent, and cool, ended before it began. He felt the swollen spot where her lip had earlier been split open. Varric had never been more disgusted nor more intrigued by her. The woman in question pulled away a half second later with a sadistic cackle.
“I’d prefer the soap.” He said in faux disgust.
"You love it. Shuddup.” Hawke said through her fit of laughter.
And, because she asked him to, Varric did.
The end.