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The Hanged Man buzzed with life as Daphne jostled her way through the crowd, trying not to spill the eight tankards she carried. She would struggle to hold them on a less busy night; the fact she had got halfway across the room was a miracle in itself. It was a relief when she got to the table and set everything down.
“I admit, Hawke, I’m impressed,” Isabela said, dragging tankards over to her and Merrill. “I wasn’t sure if you would manage to get everything over here.”
“You could have offered to help.”
“I’m a lady, you can’t expect me to do that kind of work.”
“I’m also a lady.”
“Yes, but you had the worst hand last round.”
Daphne rolled her eyes, scooping up her own tankard and settling in her seat. She snatched up her cards from in front of Varric, glancing around the rest of the table. “You didn’t let anyone look at my cards, right Varric?”
“Of course not, I’m very trustworthy.”
“Bullshit.”
“You wound me.”
“If you don’t wish to be wounded, you shouldn’t lie so blatantly,” Fenris said. He took a swig of his drink and briefly pulled a face as he set the tankard back down. “Now, can we get started?”
“Far be it from me to agree with the elf, but I did come here to play,” Anders said.
Though there were a few more jabs at one another, they pulled themselves together enough to start their next round of Wicked Grace. Each game was marked as over when the losers forked over their money to pay for drinks and the person with the worst hand went to fetch them. Sebastian was awful, maybe tied with Merrill for the worst player. That was why Merrill winning two rounds in a row was so shocking. At least until she admitted Isabela was helping her cheat, and the group made Isabela switch spots with Varric (not that he didn’t help Merrill cheat, he was just more subtle about it). Aveline was also good, much to everyone’s surprise. They all shut up when she asked them what they thought the city guard was doing when not on duty.
After a few rounds, their group thinned. Aveline was the first to leave, saying she had already had too much to drink and had been out too late for someone who was on patrol in the morning. Sebastian was next, a lightweight (to no one’s surprise), and only left at everyone else’s insistence he return to Hightown. Varric muttered, after Sebastian left, that he hoped “Choir Boy” didn’t get robbed. Anders had to leave in the middle of a game when someone came in and whispered something to him. The group only catching snatches about the clinic and someone’s leg. Merrill left only a couple of games later when she almost fell asleep in the middle of her turn.
Finally, it was just Isabela, Daphne, Varric, and Fenris. Isabela leaned back in her seat with a sigh, tossing her winning hand onto the table. “Well, I think that’s enough of stealing everyone’s money for the night.”
Daphne slumped over on the table, grinning like an idiot as she fidgeted with the corner of her cards. “You’re sooooo nice to us Isabela.”
“Oh, I know dear,” she said as she stood up. “One of you boys can see her back to Hightown safely.”
“Hey! I can take s’care of m’self…”
“I have no doubt.”
Isabela waved her fingers at the other two as she skipped upstairs, leaving Varric and Fenris to fight over the drunk Daphne.
“Well, Broody, my rooms are just upstairs and you live in Hightown,” Varric started, and Fenris sighed.
“Alright, I get the message. Go up and tend to your chest hair.”
“So generous of you,” Varric said. He hopped up and moved over to Daphne’s side, clapping her on the shoulder. “Take care of Broody for me, Hawke.”
She giggled, pushing herself up, so she was half collapsed over the back of the chair. “Abs’lutely. He’s going to be so taken care of.”
Fenris replaced Varric at Daphne’s side as the dwarf left the pair alone. Daphne smiled up at him, and Fenris pulled her up, securing her arm around his shoulders. There was a brief back and forth of Daphne trying to push Fenris away as she staggered and Fenris trying to balance them.
“Lemme go, I walk fine,” Daphne whined, trying to pull away again. Fenris stopped her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. Daphne went bright red, giggled, and then frowned at Fenris before trying to pull away again.
“I know you can walk fine, I’m the one who needs help.”
“Oh, well okay I can help you then.”
Fenris guided Daphne towards the door, pushing through the crowd and staggering a little from the tight quarters and Daphne’s unstable gait. It took some time, but they managed to get through the front door and into the chill night. Fenris took a deep breath, trading the rank of sweat, beer, and vomit for the acrid stench of foundry smoke and the faint smell of salt from the sea. It wasn’t much better, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Daphne mimicked Fenris, inhaling deeply. There was a brief pause before she pushed herself up on her toes, burying her nose into Fenris’ neck as she breathed in again.
“Hawke,” he said, pulling away a little with burning ears. “What are you doing?”
“You smell nice,” she murmured, pouting as he moved away. “Like earth. And sharp, like lyrium.”
“After spending so long in the Hanged Man, I expect I smell more like beer and sweat.”
“Noooo you smell nice,” she whined as Fenris continued down the street. “I wanna smell you all the time. And look at you all the time.”
“Look at me?”
“Mhm, ‘cause you’re pretty.”
“Ah,” Fenris managed, choking on his words. He paused as they reached the stairs, adjusting his hold on Daphne. Instead of sitting still, she swung around and put her other arm around his neck. She blinked up at him for a moment before grinning like a madwoman.
“I think you should kiss me.”
“Excuse me?” Fenris choked out.
“I,” she said, drawing out the sound, “think you should kiss me.”
“Hawke—”
“You should call me Daphne. I like you, so you should call me Daphne. Varric calls me Hawke, everyone else too, and I don’t wanna kiss them. I wanna kiss you.”
“Daphne,” he began again, “you’re drunk. I’m not going to kiss you.”
“I’m not drunk!” She almost sounded offended.
“Well then I’m drunk.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, frowning as she looked him over. Finally, she relented.“Fine… but maybe you could kiss me on the cheek?”
“Daphne…”
“I like when you say my name. Sounds nice,” Daphne said, drawing circles on Fenris’ neck with her fingernails. A moment of mute surprise as Fenris blinked down at her, and then his expression shifted as he realised he was considering it. He was about to give in. Just a quick peck on the cheek so they could keep moving. Then Daphne’s face twisted and went green.
Fenris pulled away a little, just in time as Daphne gagged and in short order, puked right on the ground between them. He danced back a little more, trying to keep his feet free of the splatter. Daphne retched one more time, coughing and gagging afterwards, before she looked up at Fenris. Her eyes filled with tears as Fenris fumbled for something to wipe her mouth with.
“I puked on you,” she said, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You didn’t,” he said, skirting around the sick to wipe her mouth with a scrap of fabric. It took at least five minutes of Hawke crying and apologising and Fenris trying to calm her down before they reached the point they could keep going. It was eventually decided that Fenris would just carry Daphne (after much debate because Daphne insisted she might throw up on him again and Fenris insisted it would be fine).
Eventually, they reached the Amell manor. After some fumbling, Fenris got the door open to carry Daphne inside. He plodded up the stairs, keeping Daphne’s head tucked in so he didn’t accidentality smack it on a doorframe. When they reached her room, he helped her pull off her boots and politely averted his eyes as she fumbled with her clothes and climbed into bed. He helped prop her up on her side, reminding her she had to stay on her side in case she threw up again.
“Get some rest,” Fenris said, moving towards the door once he was done.
“You aren’t gonna stay?” Daphne pouted, making Fenris pause.
“Not tonight.”
“Please?”
Fenris sighed and moved back to her bedside, crouching down to be at eye level. “Ask me when you’re sober.”
After a beat of hesitation, he leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, Daphne had the biggest smile and eyes.
“You kissed me! Even though I was sick on your shoes!”
“I don’t have shoes—”
“Does this mean you like me?”
“By the Maker,” Fenris muttered, pinching his nose to hide the colour rising to his face.
“You’re blushing! You do like me!”
“Goodnight, Hawke,” Fenris said, standing up and hurrying to the door. He spoke under his breath as he left. “I hope you forget all of this in the morning.”