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The night’s breeze is gentle against his hair and he must thank the cool climate for keeping his beer at a pleasant temperature. Though there’s a house full of people behind him, the doors of the balcony are enough to clog them and it’s almost like he’s alone. Any minute now Varric will appear and ask if he’s enjoying himself, which he will admit he’s not, but he’s still there for his friend, to celebrate his new series being picked up by a big publishing company.
In the meantime, he keeps sipping from his cup and drowns the beer he was handed to.
“This will do, for now,” he said after the first try and got Varric to laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’ve hidden the good stuff for when it’s just me and my good old friend helping me clean up the aftermath.” The shorter man elbows him.
“I can’t wait to meet this good old friend of yours,” one corner of Fenris’ lips pull up.
“Oh, I forgot you do have a sense of humor,” he patted his back. “Go, mingle, or don’t. I’m immune to your broodiness by now.”
After walking around Varric’s house and talking to a few people he knew like Aveline, and was introduced to Merril, an old friend of Varric’s who came back to Kirkwall after studying abroad, he found himself going up the second floor and stepping into the balcony with a full view of the neighborhood and the front gates. Every other house seems vacant, except for one or two with their porch lights on. It is not the type of setting he’s used to, but he can see himself managing and getting used to it. It is a perk to be a part of Varric Tethras’ inner circle.
He’s by himself, enjoying the night sky’s paint and twinkling stars. Above others, he can see better, he feels better at this height and advantage. People keep arriving and he can tell who was invited by his agent and who was added by Varric. He can put together a few faces from other gatherings, but no names. Neither can they; they just recall seeing someone with white tattoos going down his neck and wondering how much they cover.
“You went all out,” he mumbles to himself about Varric before he drinks again.
“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?!” Fenris spills back the bit of beer that touched his lips into the cup and looks down. A man with dark hair and a beard to match is staring up at him with open arms. A younger woman and a younger man stand behind him with the same shade of darkness in their locks.
“It is the east, and Juliet is th—” He receives a push from the girl who’s hiding her giggle behind her hand.
“Unbelievable,” the other boy seems less impressed. “We haven’t even entered the house and he’s already making a fool of himself.”
“Wait until he has a few beers in him,” the girl says with a smile, pushing the older man.
“Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow—”
“Oh, shut up!” The younger man gives him a bigger shove and the reciter laughs, reflecting a similar smile to the girl. He looks away from Fenris to enter the house and the doors of the balcony open.
“Hey, Broody,” Varric appears with a glass of red wine in his hand and looking comfortable, he knows why everyone is here and he doesn’t care if it’s because they have to or want to. “Come in, I want you to meet someone.”
He turns to him, with the tip of his ears going pink. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Varric’s expression changes; he tenses as he looks at Fenris and wonders, “are you alright?”
“Yes,” Fenris drinks and walks towards him. “Quite the guests you have.”
“If someone gives you a hard time, let me know. I’m sure Aveline would be glad to show them the way out.”
Fenris gives him half a smile, “I am touched by your threatening way of sending Aveline on someone for me.”
“That’s why I’m here for,” Varric winks. “Now, come on. It’ll be worth your while and I won’t punish you any longer; you can leave if you’re really that uncomfortable.”
“But I must repay you after such chivalry act.” The sarcasm is thick on his voice.
“I should keep more alcohol coming your way,” Varric chuckles before turning around and Fenris follows.
They’re back inside and down the hall to reach the staircase, but they don’t go any further. A woman with dark skin and darker waves of hair awaits them. Her light brown eyes, almost whiskey in a glass fall on him first.
The woman hums in approval, “he’s hired.”
“Excuse me?” Fenris raises an eyebrow, looking at Varric.
“Isabela here owns a bar, I told her you got your bartending certificate and have been in need of a job.”
“I believe your exact words were ‘he’s like a lost puppy who keeps getting kicked and dumped on the streets’.”
“I was selling you!” Varric defends when Fenris’ forest green eyes fall on him again, with some thunder brewing in them. “And those were not my exact words, Bela.”
“He does have puppy eyes,” Isabela his looking at him again with a bright gaze and a tempting smile.
Fenris puts in thought, “what’s the bar?”
“It’s called the Hanged Man, 20 minutes from here, you can’t miss it.”
“Now I know the real reason you moved,” Fenris throws at Varric.
Varric shrugs, “you got me there. It’s a nice place—at least now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He means the greasy, dirty, old place got better once I took it away from an even greasier, dirtier, older owner and got my young, pretty, little hands on it.” She twinkles her fingers.
“She has a spot open and I might have thrown your name in there, like the good friend I am.”
“I am glad, but I am not sure if I should thank you, just yet.”
“If you’re waiting for me, you’re hired, kitten. But this isn’t the time for business talk,” from her cleavage she pulls out a card. “Call me on Monday.”
Fenris accepts it with a shy smile, and hopes his interest is shown in his eyes.
“Or, if you’re eager, tomorrow night.” She winks and makes her way down the stairs, swaying her hips, knowing they are watching her leave.
Fenris clears his throat, “I guess I should thank you.”
“No need, but I still could use the help after this is over.”
Fenris smiles at him, “I will think about it.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
They head back down together as Varric mentions he should be careful with Isabela and her pretty, little hands, “she’ll leave you markings to match those tattoos,” he laughs and Fenris rubs the back of his neck, white tattoos, slithering out of his rolled up sleeves, going all the way down his arms and hands.
They remain together for a few seconds until Cassandra Pentaghast, Varric’s agent, pulls him away to meet other authors she has invited. He excuses himself and Fenris waves him away before making his way to the kitchen.
The hallway is taken mostly by couple, wanting a wall between them and the crowded living room and dining room. He sways through them, avoiding touches and greetings with a goal in mind: to find a wine bottle and make the night more doable, for Varric, who made the mistake of drinking wine in front of Fenris. Now he would spend the rest of the evening searching to pass time and take away a bottle as his consolation prize.
He passes by the guest, unnoticed, swift. A wolf in unknown territory, but unafraid. His eyes are dim and set on the doorframe to the kitchen when a figure blocks him.
“I’ll give you 3 dollars if you let me put my arm around you.”
He has to stop or he will bump with the man and because he thinks he didn’t hear right. “What did you just say to me?”
“Three easy dollars if you allow me to place my arm around you.” The man in jeans and a black jacket repeated with a clearer tone.
He stares at the taller man from head to toe. The shade of hair and how it frames his face, locking with his beard, is suddenly familiar. He’s handsome, he admits, but he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough yet.
“Why would you be willing to pay me to do that?”
“My ex is here and he seems to have brought someone,” his eyes dart over Fenris and he turns to see a ginger almost blonde man at the door, talking to Aveline. There’s another man with darker hair behind him, smiling at him like a proud husband.
“Four bucks, just until he makes it through.”
Again, the man isn’t bad to look at and 4 easy dollars are something. “Alright,” he mumbles, “but I need more beer.”
“Done,” the man grabs a cup from a passing waiter and hands it to Fenris at the same time he takes his empty cup and shoves it on the hands of a guest passing by. “Anything for you, dear.”
Fenris’ lips curl to the nickname, but it goes unnoticed by the man who rests against the wall and wraps an arm around Fenris’ shoulders. He gives him a strong pull and the need to drink kicks in. It feels like minutes before the Ex looks their way.
“You are under his attention,” Fenris announces behind the cup before he drinks.
“Sweet,” the man comments as he pretends to nod at someone else.
Aveline is still talking to his ex, but he gave a notion to move forward and took his partner’s hand, he indeed had brought someone.
“I think he wants to greet you.”
“Balls,” the man curses under his breath. “I’ll add four more bucks if you let me trap you against the wall.”
Fenris eyes can’t stop themselves from going wider, “you mind as well buy me dinner first.”
He looks at the man who’s already looking back with a pleased smile, “done.”
“I… was kidding.”
“I wasn’t,” the stranger licks his lips. “Ten.”
Ten easy dollars for rent or food. “I’ll say when we stop.”
“Deal,” he smile goes wider as he turns and steps in front of Fenris. One hand touches the wall and Fenris wishes he the concrete would swallow him whole. At first for the situation and how easy it was to buy him. But as his cheeks go warmer and his eyes keep bouncing to the stranger’s lips and chest, he wonders if he wants to leave at all after the wall that had been created around them felt like comforting.
Fenris clears his throat to check his voice doesn’t come out trembling, “why are you so desperate to avoid him?”
“Ah,” for the first time in the night, the man’s confidence drops, “it was embarrassing how we broke up.”
“How come both of you are here then?”
“Varric’s a mutual friend, I did expect him to be here, but not with a pretty date.”
The Ex’s date was rather handsome as well, but looking back at the stranger himself, Fenris was glad he hadn’t brought anyone.
“My date’s better looking though,” in a snap, he has his confidence back and read Fenris’ thoughts.
Fenris blushes and drinks to do something with his hand, while the other digs in his pocket.
“I’m Hawke,” the stranger has a name.
“Fenris,”
Hawke mirrors his motion and digs into his pocket too, while his other hand remains against the wall and by Fenris’ head.
“He seems to be coming this way,” Fenris notices Aveline has left and the man is looking at them and hesitantly giving step after step, with his date right behind him, bound by hand.
“20 if you let me kiss you.”
“You are mad, Hawke”
Hawke smiles at how welcoming his name sounds on Fenris’ tongue, “you’re already calling me names.”
Fenris looks down but eyes the man getting closer.
“25,” Hawke keeps getting the number higher in desperation and desire.
“Alright,” he murmurs and his lips are sealed with Hawke’s.
His mouth is clean, no alcohol in sight. It’s warm and not a stranger after seconds. Two fingers dig into Fenris’ pocket and he’s pulled against Hawke’s chest, just to be pushed against the wall seconds later.
He’s aware the man must have walked away already, but he hopes Hawke doesn’t think about it. He hopes his mind has gone as blank as his own and forgets there is a party surrounding them. His pulse is racing and his stomach is flipping. There is thunder inside of him and flames igniting. This has been the wildest thing Fenris has done and it felt like jumping out of an airplane in midflight. His blood ran faster and he felt the ink over his skin gaining color.
Hawke is pulling away and as a reaction, Fenris’ free hand cups the back of his neck to trap him. Hawke smiles in the kiss before continuing, allowing Fenris to take.
It ended too soon and both were flushed and hot against each other.
“These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triump die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume,” Hawke recites and Fenris tilts his head, remembering where he had seen his face before. “You look a little hot, why don’t you go get some fresh air in the balcony while I get you some cold water and we can talk about that dinner.”
He smiles before parting ways and Fenris follows him with his eyes; a forest being born in spring. Without thinking about it, he’s going up the stairs, giving in. But Hawke is not getting away that easy. Fenris will get him to talk about that embarrassing break up or he will come clean to his ex and make him relieve it from his mouth. His hand dips in his pocket to touch two bills. He pulls them out to find two twenties looking back at him.
“Worth it,” Hawke says to himself in the kitchen as he pours water into a cup to take to his new date.