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“If we make it out of this alive,” Hawke panted out as the gnarly dragon approached them with nothing less than malice and intent to kill in its narrowed eyes. “You owe me a kiss!”
The statement nearly threw Varric more into the wind than some giant winged beast ever could.
They often joked that way, playfully flirting and if anyone didn’t know any better, they had the right to assume they were indeed lovers. They seemed convincing and the way they sometimes spoke to each other was incriminating. Varric knew this. He was used to it and he always claimed, in his defense, it was just their dynamic. Even so, something like that, bold, managed to catch him off guard. Yet, he still laughed as he unsheathed Bianca, loading her in preparation to take down the dragon. “Right in front of darling Bianca? The nerve , Freckles!” He grinned, emphasizing his last word with a sharp bow slung through the air and into the neck of the creature.
The fight left that promise dangling on a thread. Hawke kept getting knocked off her feet left and right, no matter how sturdy she was. From the sidelines, Varric saw her barely hanging on and nervous sweat trailed down the frame of his jaw. His eyes shot open as more swarms of smaller dragons stalked behind her in a prepared ambush.
His voice cried from his throat before he could even think. “Hawke! To your left!”
She caught his shrill shout from across the horizon and she swiftly turned. As Hawke launched into action, slicing the scaly throats of the little menaces, he breathlessly laughed in relief. That’s my girl, he silently thought to himself and continued to fire arrow after arrow into the near fallen beast.
The final blow was delivered by Hawke, who leapt gloriously into the air and sunk both her daggers deep into the beast’s chest. Down the beast went, the last of a battle cry screeched until it sang no more. Hawke followed when it collapsed and as much as she held onto those daggers that were welled deep into the dragon’s body, she clattered to the ground nearly swallowed by the dragon's weight. Varric was relieved when she managed to force herself out of the way and stumbled back on her feet. Blood not only soaked the ground, but also had splattered generously across Hawke’s face. She looked great in red.
A triumphant laugh leapt from her lips as she forced both daggers from the corpse with the help of her boot. She damn near fell over, and Varric couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something about the sight of Hawke, all drenched in the blood of a slain beast with the dopiest grin on her face, that plucked at his heartstrings like a forbidden harp. Maybe it was the way the hues of the incoming sunset played on that adventurous glint in her eye. It could’ve been the way her smile grew when she looked from Anders and Fenris to him; as if she preserved it especially for his eyes only.
“C’mon, Varric!” exclaimed Hawke, who waved her bloodied dagger around to get his attention. As if she didn’t have it already. “I think it dropped something!”
His adoring chuckles of her were so easy to come by nowadays.
Surely, they did earn some reward for slaying a giant beast of a dragon. Armor, specifically made for a champion. That and dragon scales but the armor was what really called Hawke’s eye.
“It’s not going to loot itself, you know.” Varric said. “You earned it.”
“You know what I believe I also earned?”
Varric was at first clueless. Then Hawke’s voice shouted that same sentence in his head, reminding him of exactly what she was referring to. His throat went dry. “Surely you jest.” Varric attempted to bring his wit up to its maximum. Anything to keep Hawke’s and his own attention off the unrelented burning in his cheeks. “My kisses are for the One and Only.”
“You act like a smooch from me would kill you.” Hawke said, dramatically exasperated. “Besides, she doesn’t have to know, does she?”
Varric noticed every little thing about Hawke and he told himself it was only because he was so naturally observant. Everything in his mind that told him she was merely playfully teasing him again got counteracted by the serious look in her eye and the patient stance she was in, as if awaiting for a true answer. On top of it all, she wasn’t grinning anymore. A soft smile, sure, but not one that suggested humor.
Oh, she was serious. On Maker .
His voice got caught in his throat. Thankfully, his smooth tongue had yet to deceive him. “Since you want it oh so badly ,” Varric heaved a sigh, yet smiled through his false reluctance. “I suppose she wouldn’t get too heated if it’s a kiss on the cheek.”
Hawke sat there, looking as if she were considering it. His heart thundered in his rib cage. The slight friendly shoulder punch he expected, the playful shove or wink that usually ended their lighthearted meaningless flirting never came. He was sure the ribs holding his heart intact rattled as Hawke, to his surprise, bent over and her delicate hand cradled the dip of his stubbled jaw ever so softly. His eyes were wide, and she smiled when her lips met his cheek.
She might’ve pulled away as quickly as the kiss was given but Varric still saw them in slow motion. She might as well have still been there with her lips pressed against his cheek. His hand touched the spot where she kissed him; it burned awfully and it felt utterly fluttery, just like his pounding heart did.
“Now don’t go wiping it off.” She scolded playfully, carrying their newfound loot.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”