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Normally Hawke’s walks to the Hanged Man didn’t feel so unbearably long, and he knew it wasn’t because of Hightown’s infamously long stairwell. A part of him subconsciously knew he was purposefully being that slow, trying to extend the walk as long as possible. His head sort of spun and his chest clenched around his heart when he remembered the reason.
Varric’s name had been recent on his mind and tingled the depths of his underbelly. They used to be only subtle, a faint pluck of heartstrings when he laughed or when Varric called his name. Now, they must’ve been playing a whole symphony and all Varric had to do was simply exist. It was blasphemous, that’s what it was. He cursed himself and damned his wretched emotions. Never had he let anyone hang so closely to him. After all, everyone who’s ever been close to his side has inevitably been taken from him, snatched without any say. To think he could be luring someone else into that blighted trap absolutely terrified him. How selfish could he be? As if Varric would want to be bound to a human curse.
The Hanged Man reared its ugly head and from where he was, Hawke swore he heard it laughing at him. Low, guttural cackles that taunted his whole being. He reluctantly ignored them and his calloused hands pushed the rickety doors of the Hanged Man open. Local drunks and their buddies clambered together, for assuming games of Wicked Grace, Hawke could only assume. Heads turned when he walked in and he forced a smile, nodding at the people who shot hellos from every end of the bar.
He really needed a drink.
The bartender had greeted him like an old friend and although it should’ve made him feel more welcome, it didn’t. Hawke ordered drinks for two, one for him and one for Varric. Two drinks were in his hands and he was sure they were shaking. The way to Varric’s room seemed so much longer now, like it stretched beyond what he could see. He stopped right at the door and his breath hitched.
Standing in between him and Varric is the door. To imagine finally opening it and seeing him, going to do what he set out to do, paralyzed him with fear. He was almost ready to call it quits then, leave Kirkwall and change his name. Nothing was too outlandish for a man hopelessly in love.
He threw caution to the wind and he nearly winced when his thick knuckles firmly knocked on hardwood. Hawke stood frozen, and as much as he’d love to pretend to be hard as stone, he couldn’t. Any defenses he could’ve had fell distant when he heard the first click, leaving his heart in shambles when the door opened. Varric looked up at him as he leaned slightly in the doorframe, a quirk of a smile on his face.
“There’s the man of the hour.” His rugged voice shouldn’t have sounded so good to his ears. A soft chuckle sprung many unwarranted goosebumps. “I was wondering if you were going to show.”
“You doubt me.” Hawke’s voice came through thick, hasty at best despite his attempt at pulling a joke. Despite Varric raising a brow at the hitch at his off behavior, Hawke shuffled inside with the mugs of Ferelden beer.
Hawke sat the two mugs down on Varric’s table. Varric sat down, then gestured for Hawke to also take a seat. “So,” He began. “What did you want to talk about?”
Hawke had to remember that it was him that called this special little meeting to the Hanged Man. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for making everything more tense than they had to be. That didn’t mean he couldn’t regret it though, which was what he was definitely doing in that short silence.
“I..” Where he’d start this off, he didn’t have planned. He figured he would’ve made it up as he went along, although all objectives were the same. That plan wasn’t going so well. “There isn’t anything that could ruin our friendship, right?”
Hawke hid behind his mug, frantic teeth tapping against the rim. His eyes were averted but he could feel Varric’s gaze eyeing him. The air grew tense and to Hawke at least, it was hard to breathe properly.
Varric let out a breathless laugh that was no doubt the result of the awkwardness that had taken hold. “I can think of a few ways. None that I can imagine you doing though, so I believe we are good on that front.” His light hearted tone slowly submerged, concern peaking through. “Any particular reason you ask? You aren’t planning anything, are you?”
“Bah,” Hawke dismissed Varric’s subtle teasing and looked at his swirling drink, counting the many times it rippled in cycle. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s a part of my charm~”
“I suppose you’re right,” Varric chuckled and leaned back, taking a swig of his beer. “What’s with that cryptic question then?”
Hawke faltered and his throat tightened. His eyes closed, as if waiting for something to impact him. A deep sigh left his new found frown, “About that.”
“Truthfully? I’ve had something pegging my mind for a while now. A long while.” His lips tightened. Here it goes, the very thing that could break three years of friendship. The best friendship he could ever have. His lip quivered. Finally, he turned positions altogether and quietly confessed, “ I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified .”
Then came the heavy hush that fell in the room. Things felt heavier than ever and any burden that he could’ve put on them had weighed heavier than anything he’s ever done. It’s pressure was damning and although he didn’t dare to see Varric’s reaction, he filled in the blanks. Surely Varric was appalled, greatly taken off guard. From the sound of it, it spun him a loss for words and Hawke knew it couldn’t bode anything good.
“You’re serious?” Varric asked and the serious tone cut through the tension in the room like a knife.
Hawke silently nodded, unsure of what else could be said. He figured there truthfully couldn’t be.
“I see.” A low hum fell from Varric’s mouth, the result of a bewildered man trying to find something to say. Each passing minute only made Hawke fall deeper into the hole he already dug himself.
Hawke had sat the mug down shakily. His hands then dropped to his lap and he fiddled with his fingers, head hung low like he was ashamed. If anyone asked, he’d truthfully say he was. “You don’t have to say anything,” He said, voice undeniably choked up in his quivering throat. “I think I already know.”
“Freckles,” Varric finally spoke up after he cleared his throat, watching Hawke as he pushed up from his chair. He paused and then tried again. “ Hawke .”
The urgency of his name in Varric’s mouth held him from walking outside of the door. He leaned slightly against the doorway and he ran a trembling hand through his hair. “What?”
“Look, come back and sit down.” Hawke had heard the chair skid against the ground and the sound of two footsteps finally reaching the floor. He tensed, but didn’t return as Varric oh so desperately asked of him.
“We don’t have to do it this way.” Hawke said, forcing a dry laugh. “You can say your rejection and we can pretend this never happened at all.”
Varric bit his tongue and Hawke took it as his answer. Yet, it didn’t stop there.
“You haven’t heard my response yet.” Varric said, then tried to uplift the situation. “You might be surprised at what I have to say.”
Hesitantly, Hawke turned his nose around the corner of his shoulder. Varric’s wit didn’t match his demeanor at all. Although he was smiling, there was a desperate plea that kept it there. It was the only thing that stopped him from running away entirely.
“Alright.” He sighed defeatedly.
The chair was just as rickety and almost too big when Hawke sat in it. Varric sat back in his own seat and leaned over, looking straight at Hawke. “We’ve been best friends for a long time, Hawke. I don’t expect that to change.” He blew out a breath. “Believe it or not, I understand how you feel. I..have had similar feelings that included you. I didn’t think to tell you or act on them since it seemed nothing more than a fantasy. You’re Kirkwall’s Champion, how could I?”
Hawke didn’t realize it but his jaw was hung open. His gaping eyes brought Varric to sheepishly scratch at his cheek, eyes looking elsewhere. He fumbled to shut his mouth and sat upright. The anxiety and depression he once had was wiped completely clean, replaced with bountiful butterflies.
“You..” He gulped, just realizing how truly dry his throat was. His drink was untouched. “You like me.”
The words felt unreal on his tongue. Surely he must’ve been daydreaming because only something like this could go through this smoothly in a Hawke borne fantasy on a good day.
Varric then sighed so deeply Hawke was sure that he could have no air left in him. “I thought that was already established.”
The truth was out there before the both of them and the possibilities should’ve been endless. Hawke should’ve felt much more free and in a way he was. The weight on his chest was lifted but a new one took its place. The only problem, the one that now occupied both his heart and mind, is what would they do now? Yes, they both reciprocated each other’s feelings but where could they go from here? Neither of them took well to dealing with emotions like this.
It was still impossible to comprehend Varric feeling the same way, let alone taking this farther than proclamations of love. How devout could they be to each other?
“What do we do now?” Hawke was the first to break the silence, and Varric finally looked up. He finally smiled, something that relived Hawke.
He picked up his half drunken mug and raised it as high as it could go, “The night is still young. We can use the rest of it to drink ourselves into a stupor.”
Hawke, as much as he would love to do that like old times, he couldn’t help but have his mind set on other things. “What about, er,” He awkwardly shifted in his chair and reached out for his untouched mug. “–You know.”
“We have all the time in the world for that after.” Varric promised him with a genuine smile. He threw one leg over the other and nodded the mug to his companion. “To you, Freckles.”
Without even trying, Varric had his ways of boosting Hawke’s mood and making him smile oh so easily. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with him. A soft breathless chuckle easily left his wide smile and he took his untouched mug in his hand, raising it just as high.
”To us.” Hawke corrected him, his unwavering smile ever so strong. It persuaded Varric to also grin.
”To us.” Varric agreed.