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If there was anything Hawke excelled at, it was walking into dangerous situations with a swagger and smirk. There was no disaster too great, no horror too grotesque, no merchant too Orlesian for her to shy away from (something that probably said more about her nonexistent sense of self-preservation than any sort of measurable bravery), but even so, she found herself freezing for juuust a moment when she and Varric descended the stairs of the Hanged Man and every single person at their usual table turned to stare.
“Oh. Don’t like that,” she murmured, speaking from the very corner of her mouth so only Varric could hear. “What’s this about, you think?”
“Something stupid, I’m sure.”
“Well obviously. I meant—” But before she could finish that thought, Bethany was rushing over, wearing one of those looks of hers: the sort that couldn’t exactly decide whether it was furious or tickled pink.
“There you are!” She was all but breathless as she threw her arms around Hawke, giving her a good, tight hug before taking a step back and fixing her with a hilariously exasperated look. “Where were you?! You never came home last night, and Mother kept going on and on about all the terrible things that might’ve happened to you! The list was exhaustive, in case you were wondering.”
Snickering, Varric made a point to clear his throat. “Morning, Sunshine. Nice to see you too.”
Hawke’s eyes flicked to Varric’s briefly, the two of them sharing a knowing look. “Oh, I’m sure she was worried half to death! Her precious firstborn alone in the town, wandering through the alleys and gutters helpless as a newborn nug…why, I’ll bet she didn’t sleep a wink!”
“She slept fine,” Bethany sighed, folding her arms across her chest, not buckling even when Hawke took her by the elbow and dragged her over to the table. “I, however, did not. I was worried!”
“Why?” she couldn’t help but snort. “What’s the worst that could’ve hap—you know what? Let’s not actually go down that road. And what about you lot, hmm? What’s with the…” Hawke gestured vaguely towards the rest of the table, her confidence waning as she took in the expressions on each of their faces. Something about Isabela’s smile in particular set off warning bells. “…everything?”
Proving that yes, yes indeed, that soft, slow grin was something to be wary of, Isabela lowered her chin to the net of her interlaced fingers, fluttering her eyelashes coyly. “Well, you heard the young lady, Hawke,” she drawled, “Bethy was so terribly worried about you last night! Why, she came asking all of us whether we’d seen you since our rousing evening of drinking and gambling here in the Hanged Man, and not a one of us had. Which of course begs the question…” Her voice dropped and her grin widened, “Where were you last night? And, more to the point…why are you here this morning, mmm?”
She didn’t even get the chance to process what had been said before Varric flicked the table a casual wave and promptly made for the bar, muttering something to the tune of, “Have fun.” Traitor! Leaving her to the beasts!
“I should think the answer to that one’s obvious,” she deadpanned as she slid into her usual seat, purposely nudging Bethany over a few inches with her hip if only for the sake of sibling antagonism. “While all you lightweights tapped out early and went home with your tails between your legs and your coppers in my pockets, I decided to stay on and ride out that winning streak. By the time I was done robbing every drunkard in this town dry of their ill-gotten coin, I didn’t much feel like climbing all the way to Hightown, so…” She shrugged. “Varric offered me the use of his palatial suite.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Isabela straightened up again, holding her hand palm-out towards Anders. “Told you,” she said flatly.
So this was how it was going to be, was it? Oh, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, slumping down over the table with her head in her hands. “Why are we betting on my morning whereabouts? There’s really nothing more exciting going on in town?”
“You…stayed here last night?” Bethany repeated slowly, her eyes squinting as though she were trying to place the last few pieces of a puzzle.
“I stayed here last night,” Hawke echoed.
“With Varric,” Fenris piped in, trying (and failing) to hide his own sly smirk.
“With Varric,” she agreed.
“In his suite,” added Aveline, who had an awful expression of smugness about her.
“…in his suite.”
Isabela threw her arms wide in a gesture so gleeful as to almost appear crazed. “Where there’s only one bed!”
And though she knew this was what they’d been working up towards since the beginning, Hawke couldn’t help but take a breath, averting her eyes from the lot of them to focus instead on the rotting ceiling beams above. “I already know the answer, so forgive me for asking, but…could we perhaps not make a big deal of this?”
“Absolutely not.” That figured. “We can absolutely not do that.” Isabela’s grin might not have been so bad had it not been accompanied by the snickering of just about everyone else gathered around the table, only Bethany wavering in that place between uncertainty and the deep, resounding distress that came from learning something you’d rather not know about your sibling.
A single look told her that she would be the only one of them not absolutely frothing at the mouth for details. This was the problem no one ever warned you about when it came to keeping poor company; they’ll stab you in the back, they said, they’ll betray you when you need them most, they said, but not once did anyone ever mention the insatiable desire to gossip like a bunch of children.
Only furthering that thought, Anders leaned over towards her with a jokingly dreamy expression, chuckling, “Well don’t keep us in suspense—you know we’re all dying of curiosity.”
“You’re all morons, that’s what you are,” Hawke smirked. She set her elbows on the table and threw Varric a bitter glance over her shoulder, shaking her head as if to condemn him once she caught his eye. He just grinned, though.
Typical.
Knowing this was a battle she could only win by trudging through, she heaved a melodramatic sigh and waved one of her hands in a ‘go on’ gesture. “By all means! I’m an open book. Ask anything you want.”
There were more than a few looks exchanged at that.
“…so…?”
Hawke rolled her eyes towards Aveline, her eyebrows drawn high and tightly together. “All right, this one’s my fault. Ask anything you want, but maybe be a little more specific than that.”
Much too chipper for that time of day, Merrill happily leapt in to Aveline’s defense. “I think she meant to ask you what happened! Last night, that is.”
“Ah, see, thank you Merrill, that makes so much more sense!” Briefly Hawke rubbed at her face, forcing the last of the sleep from her brain. “I do think I already answered that, however. There was drinking and gambling—which, again, most of you were here for—then there was more drinking and more gambling—which, not to repeat myself, but again, all of you missed out on—then it became very, very late at night—which happens when the sun goes down, you see—and so I slept off my inebriation in Varric’s room—yes, I know, how salacious, the room wherein there is only one bed—and then I woke up and came down the stairs, and…oh, I think you all know the rest, actually.” She jokingly widened her eyes and passed her gaze around the table to challenge each of them in turn. “Was it the pulse-pounding tale you were expecting? Oh, I so hope that it was.”
Isabela shook her head in obvious disappointment. “You’re no fun. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No. Not a single person in all the land. You’ve really cut me to the quick with that one, Bela…” Without asking, Hawke reached over and grabbed the tankard in front of Fenris, taking a drink of it herself. To be fair, she felt fairly sure she deserved to be drinking if she was going to endure this. “Anyone else want to hurt my feelings before I’ve had breakfast?”
Hardly a surprise, Fenris took that as his cue to really get in on the conversation. “But the two of you slept together.”
Beside her, Bethany made a noise of abject suffering and turned away from the table altogether. Hawke, however, could only laugh. “We did! Unthinkable, isn’t it? To sleep in the same general vicinity as someone else?” She feigned a shudder. “Can you even imagine?”
“Well, wait a moment…” Merrill leaned in closer and lowered her voice just a notch, her eyes flicking sympathetically towards Bethany for a moment before focusing on Hawke again. “When you say you slept together, though, are you saying you really slept, like closed your eyes and fell asleep, or are you saying you—”
She leaned in as well, mirroring Merrill’s posture almost perfectly. “Fucked?” Hawke finished for her (much to Bethany’s audible displeasure). “Oh! Oh! Is that what this is?” In one smooth motion she sat up straight once more, assuming an expression of open-mouthed shock as she looked between her cohort of ne’er-do-wells…and Aveline. “My, my! Don’t I have egg on my face—see, here I was, begging that you all be more specific about the questions you’re asking, and yet it takes Merrill to get to the heart of it all: Did Varric and I experience each other in a carnal manner last night in the single bed occupying his lovely palatial suite?” Sensing she was about to make a break for it, Hawke threw an arm around Bethany’s shoulders, hugging her little sister close against her side. “You should’ve just said so from the start!”
“I do think they were insinuating it,” Merrill started, quieting when Aveline caught her eye and shook her head.
“See, if you had all just been straightforward about it, perhaps we could’ve skipped all the pointless back-and-forth we just wasted our breath on. ‘Good morning, Hawke,’ you could’ve said, ‘Did you, perchance, engage in any lascivious acts last night with our dear friend Varric? Oh, we’re on tenterhooks waiting for your answer, imagining all the sordid things the two of you might’ve been getting up to, all the heaving and squirming involved therein’—” At that, Bethany did try to make her break, but Hawke’s grip only tightened, keeping her held tight.
“I hate this!” she wailed once before going slack against her side, her grimace turning into a pout as she realized the futility of her situation. “I wasn’t wondering any of that! I was just worried about you!”
It was impossible to keep from grinning, her laughter bubbling up and threatening to spill over even as she continued. “—but none of you actually said that, now, did you? No. You didn’t. If you had just made it clear from the get-go that you didn’t want to actually hear how my night went, that you weren’t worried for my well-being like my sweet sister here, if you had only said ‘Hawke, all we want is a lurid story to brighten up the doldrums of life,’ then I wouldn’t have to waste my time and breath reminding you all that, at some time or another, we’ve all slept in the same bedroll, in any number of strange configurations, and despite what some of you would believe, it is, in fact, possible for two adults to share a blanket and pillows without getting handsy. I wouldn’t have to do any of that! I simply would’ve shrugged and smiled and said that oh yes, it was truly a night of passion that we shared, he and I, drunk off our asses and so elated from our winning streak that we made vigorous love into the early hours of the dawn. Then I probably would’ve winked. Blown one of you a kiss. But no. Instead, here we are. Having this conversation.” She paused to gather her breath and shake her head in disappointment. “I hope you’re all proud of yourselves.”
Again, that moment of silence. Then Fenris took his drink back. “I’m not sure anyone at this table should ever be proud of themselves.”
“There’s no need to be a sarcastic little prat about it, Hawke.” For a moment, Isabela affected the same sort of pout Bethany wore, making it clear how very disappointed she was in this turn of events. “We were just curious. And can you blame us? Whenever you and Varric are together, you’re so—”
“Did I hear my name? You miscreants gossiping about me behind my back? That’s a fine way to show your appreciation for the guy who paid for you to get drunk last night.” A king of timing, that Varric Tethras. Truly a master of his craft. He joined them at the table, not sitting just yet but standing to Hawke’s side, setting a hand on her shoulder before plunking a drink down in front of her. “Thought you might want one,” he said so offhandedly she might’ve thought he really hadn’t been eavesdropping on them the whole time…if, that was, he didn’t punctuate the thought by tipping her chin back with a finger, bringing his lips to hers in a kiss that lasted just long enough to render the table silent as the grave.
With a wicked little grin, Hawke turned to them all again, shrugging before lifting her drink with the hand not gripping Bethany tight. “What?” she asked in mock surprise, “You all look so shocked! I did just tell you we fucked.” Then, true to her word if nothing else, she dropped a wink Aveline’s way, blew Isabela a kiss, and took the most satisfying drink of her life.