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queenofbaws · 5 years ago

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Day 4: Glasses

Fandom: Dragon Age Characters: Varric Tethras, F!Hawke, Bethany Hawke Words: 2,894 Rating: T (Language, alcohol) Author’s note: Four days in and I’m not giving up yet!!! This is 100% inspired by this fanTASTIC art drawn by @demdoodles for a smooch prompt (and the tags on said art ;P).

Now, one didn’t need to be a genius to see Hawke wasn’t enjoying the party. One sort of had to be an out and out idiot not to see it, really, what with the grimacing and the wincing and the mouthed pleas whenever Leandra wasn’t looking her way (he wasn’t sure, since lip-reading wasn’t particularly high up on his list of skills, but he had a pretty good idea the last one had either been ‘Can we leave?’ or ‘Kill me, please!’). Still, it wasn’t until right around the third - whoops, fourth - champagne flute he watched her drain and set on a nearby table that Varric realized just how much she wasn’t enjoying it.

“If she doesn’t slow down, Mother’s going to make me drag her home...”

He glanced over to see Bethany milling about nearby, a tiny twist to one corner of her mouth suggesting she wasn’t half as frustrated as she’d have him believe. “I dunno, sure looks to me like she’s handling herself all right.”

Bethany made a noise he was more than passingly familiar with - the younger sibling grunt of disapproval. “She’s absolutely going to make a fool of herself…”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” he joked, “But take it from me – I know you’re usually snuggled up all safe and warm in your bed by the time we’re just hitting our stride in the Hanged Man – ” Ah, the younger sibling snort of derision. Another classic. “- just suffice it to say I’ve seen Hawke do much more dangerous than rubbing elbows with nobles while significantly drunker. She’s gonna be fine.”

Gathering up the fabric of her skirt, she sighed, delicately sitting herself down next to him on the chaise. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something all night.”

Oh, this was bound to be good. If he’d come to learn anything during his time knowing the Hawke family, it was that Hawke herself had inherited most (if not all) of the genes needed for subterfuge; Bethany’s methods of sussing out information were usually much more direct. “A question, hmm? Well, if that question is ‘Did I teach Merrill how to cheat at Diamondback,’ the answer is yes, but that’s not the reason you lost the other night, Sunshine. That was just dumb luck, pure and simple.”

She fixed him with a glare that was only exasperated on the surface. “That’s not what I was going to ask you.”

“Ah, then go ahead.”

“I was wondering why you’re here at all, tonight. This doesn’t seem like the kind of place where you’d waste an entire evening.” Her attention was momentarily grabbed by something just over his shoulder, no doubt her mother and sister, but it was back on him in a flash, her curiosity evident in those big ol’ eyes of hers.

Varric shrugged. “What? Is it so hard to believe that I’d want to come cheer on my favorite mud-farming Fereldens as they try so valiantly to scrape away all the shit Gamlen’s run the family name through?”

For her part, Bethany didn’t appear particularly amused. She quirked an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest in an obvious show of disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Accusations! Madam, you wound me.”

The eyebrow crept higher.

“Look. Sunshine. Here’s what you need to understand: Of all of us, only one has known Kirkwall’s hoitiest and toitiest long enough to have all the information needed to pull together a solid extortion on short notice, and that would be yours truly. I figured I could help by pointing Hawke to the right peop – ”

“You are so full of it.”

That time, he was almost actually taken aback; he angled himself to get a better look at her, and what he found there wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. The Hawkes were good at one thing above all else, he’d learned, and that was stubbornness. “Wow, this is what it’s come to, huh?” He looked over his shoulder briefly, just in time to watch Hawke set another empty glass down with a grimace. She caught his eye for an instant and mouthed what seemed to be ‘Fine dining,’ but was probably ‘I’m dying.’ He offered a sympathetic shrug in response before turning back to Bethany. “All right then, why do you think I’m here tonight?”

Bethany held his stare for a moment longer before raising one of her hands, coyly acting as though she were examining her nails. “You’re here because you fancy my sister.”

Now, his expression didn’t change. Oh no, he hadn’t gotten where he’d gotten in life by being so easily readable. He simply watched her for a beat, trying to parse the particulars of her expression – it wasn’t hard, considering she was giving him the Hawke grin, the one where the corners of the eyes crinkled and the nose scrunched up and the childish threat of a tongue being stuck out seemed ever-present. “More accusations, huh? You know, that’s the best way to get in trouble around these parts, young Mistress Hawke, throwing around unsubstantiated claims like that…”

“You do,” she repeated, more insistent that time, still carrying on her act of carefully inspecting her manicure.

There was some kind of movement in his periphery, and while it was nothing especially big or sudden, he found himself fighting to keep from turning around again. Oh no, no, no. If there was anything he valued, it was his pokerface, and whirling around to give Hawke another look would’ve been more than enough to give Bethany all the information she wanted. Absolutely not. “I’m starting to wonder if you’ve had anything to drink tonight, Sunshine.”

“Oh don’t do that! We both know I’m right.”

“Do we?”

She pooched her lower lip out in something he couldn’t exactly call a pout, but wasn’t too far off. “I’m right. And I think tonight would be the perfect time for you to say something about it to her.”

That time his face must’ve changed, because her grin widened until she appeared every inch like the cat that got the cream. “Of course you do. And uh, why, pray tell, do you think that?” He raised an eyebrow of his own to match hers. “Inquiring minds must know.”

“Well…” Smoothing her skirt out, Bethany shrugged her shoulders once in a feign of innocence. “Between you and me…I think…personally…you’ll find that, as usual…you two will…have very similar opinions on the matter.” She punctuated every few words with a vague wave of her hand.

It was difficult to describe exactly what that revelation brought about inside of him. Again, best not to put a name to it. He wasn’t about to crack and let Bethany see…whatever there was to see there below the surface. “Uh huh. Okay. I can see the problem here…you’re confused.”

“I am not!”

“No, you are. Now, here’s the thing Sunshine, you’re young. So young. A baby, practically.” He smirked when her response was, yes, the younger sibling glare of disdain – she was really going all out tonight! “So I’m going to clue you in on a lesson you only learn once you get to be my age, all right? The intrepid hero never winds up with the narrator, okay? Sorry to say it, I know I’m breaking your heart here, but that’s just how it goes. You’d have better luck trying with the rebellious swashbuckler or the tormented, selfless apostate. Trust me on this, I’ve read this story a time or two in my life, and it always – always – ends up the same.”

Bethany folded her hands in her lap again, a strange expression coming over her face. If he had to name it, he might’ve called it ‘stony,’ but that…that wasn’t quite right. There was something else there too, something distinctly Hawke-like, and ooh that couldn’t be good. When she spoke up again, her words were no longer sugared or drawled, instead wrought with confidence enough to be, quite frankly, startling. “If you’re so sure of yourself, would you care to bet on it? Three sovereigns says I’m right.”

He reeled backwards, only a little, only a bit, the question surprising a laugh out of him. What was her game? “Oh, this is something we’re going to bet on, now?”

“Oooh, a bet?”

And in that moment, he understood in perfect, crystal clarity. That sneaky little so-and-so…

Instinctively, Varric moved over a few inches to give Hawke more space as she sat herself down between the two of them. “What’re we betting on?”

“How long you’ll be laid up in bed tomorrow bellyaching about how bad your hangover is.” The lie came quickly, naturally, to him, and sure, under normal circumstances he never would’ve tried such a transparent cover-up on her (there was, after all, no bullshitting a bullshitter), but Hawke’s words had gone runny and soft at the edges, and sweet merciful Andraste, she smelled like alcohol.

Hawke scoffed, “Cleary – ahem – clearly neither of you know who you’re talking to. I’m fine.” She sunk a bit deeper into the cushions, fanning herself lightly with one hand, pursing her lips in an exhausted exhalation. “Maker, I hate this shit. All this pointless talk about estates and politics and…and…horses.”

Bethany’s leaned over enough that Varric could see her around Hawke, her forehead creased and mouth turning down in a silent question. The very look itself seemed to ask: Horses? But alas, he couldn’t even begin to guess at an answer for her.

Confused though she was, Bethany recovered with an incredible quickness, turning to Hawke. “Well, look on the bright side! At least – ”

“There’s free champagne.”

“Wh…no. That isn’t what I was going to say and you know it.”

“I know. But it is true, though.”

“Maker, you’re impossible.”

Laughing, Hawke leaned away from Bethany and towards Varric, her bare shoulder coming exceptionally close to jabbing him smack-dab in the collarbone. “Sounds to me like someone needs more champagne.”

He returned her laugh, but it was a short-lived thing; all at once he was aware of Bethany’s smug gaze on him again, clearly and obviously appraising the interaction. “I can’t disagree with you there,” he began, reaching over to the table nearest the chaise and grabbing his glass of water, forcing it into Hawke’s hands. “As long as the someone in question isn’t you.”

She groaned even as she accepted the glass, taking an unhappy sip. For a moment, only a moment, he saw her glare down into the water as though angry at its insolence for not being champagne. “Fine, fine…worse than Mother.”

“What I was going to say,” Bethany tried again, raising her voice to get Hawke’s attention. “Is that this whole ordeal might be miserable, but at least you look so lovely tonight.”

“Awww…Bethany!”

Her smile went pointed at the corners, and just as it had happened before, Varric saw her entire scheme laid out in front of him as if she’d written it in the air. “It’s true! Varric was just saying that too, weren’t you Varric?” She cocked her head to the side, appearing very proud of herself as she continued, “Just going on and on and on about how lovely you are in that gown…”

What he wanted to do was glare daggers at her. What he actually ended up doing was giving Hawke his signature smirk and shrug as she turned to him with another appreciative coo. “What can I say? It’s a nice change from the armor.”

Leaning herself against his side, Hawke used her free hand to grab his cheeks between her fingers, giving him a playful jostle. “There’s nothing wrong with my armor! It’s perfectly fine!”

“It’s disgusting, Hawke. It’s absolutely rancid, and one of these days you’re going to have to come to terms with that.”

“It’s perfectly fu – ” She paused when a few nearby guests turned to look their way, no doubt due to the volume of her voice. Hawke merely smiled, took another sip of the water, cleared her throat, and then tried again softer (and slower) than before. “My armor is perfectly functional, thank you very much.”

“Spoken like a true dog lord.”

Her laugh came at precisely the wrong time, and she snorted into the glass, sending a fine spray of water into her own face. Hawke did her best to restrain her laughter, but it was a futile effort; she giggled as she wiped her face dry, shaking her head all the while. “How dare you, serah? How dare you?”

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, not with Bethany right there, but there was something about the sight of Hawke sitting there in the parlor, lit by the warm glow of a fire, gown cut to show the curve of her neck and shoulders, cheeks flushed and lips parted with laughter that was…

Something. It was something.

Something that Bethany, it seemed, didn’t notice. No, she was too preoccupied with the fact that her little trick hadn’t worked, her lips momentarily tightening into a flat line of thought. Then the light came back into her eyes and Varric knew he was about to have his ass held to the fire again. “We were having the most interesting conversation before you joined us, you know…”

“Oh?” Hawke had managed to get the worst of her laughter under control by then. “Do tell! I’m desperate to hear about anything that isn’t Lord and Lady Such-and-Such’s summer home in Tantervale.”

“I was just saying to Varric that it’s very obvious that he fancies - ”

And there was her mistake.

He had to give her credit, really he did, but oh, something she was going to have to learn was to be much, much more careful with her setups. Particularly when she was dealing with someone like him.

“That Sunshine here has a bit of a thing for Choir Boy.” He did his best to control his grin as he watched her eyes go wide and her jaw go slack with betrayal. “Yeah,” he added before she could get another word in edgewise, “It’s real sweet, don’t you think, Hawke?”

Hawke whirled towards Bethany so quickly that she seemed to throw herself off balance, rocking back and forth for a moment before steadying. “Oh, Bethany, please.”

It was too hard to hold his snickers back that time, so…he didn’t. Varric laughed, holding his hands palms-up in a ‘What can you do’ gesture behind Hawke.

Pursing her lips tightly together, Bethany folded her arms tightly across her chest and averted her gaze, her face bright red. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Oh thank the Maker,” Hawke breathed, pressing a hand flat to her own chest in relief. “He’s nice enough, but Bethany, he’s so boring.”

The look Bethany shot him was nothing short of withering. Varric just grinned.

“I…oh no.” The cushions of the chaise dipped as Hawke tried to sink down even lower. “Mother found me. Ugh.” She let her head loll back onto her shoulders before she appeared to resign herself to her fate. Hawke finished off the water in one impressive gulp, grabbing either side of her bodice and hoisting it upwards into its proper place. “Duty calls,” she groaned, beginning to ease herself onto her feet.

Before she could get too far, Varric grabbed her wrist, giving it a covert tug. “The one she’s talking to right now? Owes the Guard more than you’d believe. I’d make a point of mentioning how close you are with Aveline, how the Guard’s awfully kind to your house.”

Hawke nodded once curtly, bent down so she could hear him, though her eyes flicked towards the people in question. “Got it. Can do.”

“Oh, and before I forget, I mentioned to Corff that we had a uh, unpleasant job ahead of us tonight,” he added, “He promised he’d push last call until we got a round or two in.”

The sound Hawke made was so joyful it was nearly a sob. That much he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected, what he couldn’t have expected, was what she did next.

Namely, she grabbed him by his face, her hands warm on his cheeks, and pulled him into a deep, dizzying kiss. It was over before he could figure out what in the great blue fuck had just happened – one second she was there, pressed flush against him, her lips soft but insistent against his, and then she was gone, sweeping off to join her mother near the main staircase.

“I’ll take my winnings, please,” Bethany said, pleased as punch. She didn’t immediately move to take up the space Hawke had been sitting in, but she did hold her hand out to him as covertly as possible, fingers wiggling in wait for his coin.

It took him a moment to find his voice, and wasn’t that the damnedest thing? When he did, though, he found he had to clear his throat a couple times before managing to eke out a low, “I never said I agreed to that.”

She gave his shoulder a petulant smack, but he didn’t even feel it. For that moment, he wasn’t aware of much besides the racing of his heart and the faint taste of champagne on his lips…except, of course, the growing suspicion that maybe Sunshine had been right all along.

At least…he let himself hope she was.

#dragon age #da2 #hawke x varric #varric x hawke #queenie writes dragon age #queenie writes challenge stuff #my fanfiction #not so fun fact: my comp crashed the first time i wrote this so this is V2 #and NOT EDITED LOL

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