#varric tethras is your wingman

[merciawintersageposting]

head canon about that time Varric got Rook in trouble with Professor Emmrich😈🪄

“Professor just sounds so stuffy. Right?” Varric has been muttering to himself for the past twenty minutes- deep in thought about his memoirs. As soon as he notices you, he pulls up a chair for you. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve helped him break free of writers’ block.

“And ‘Professor Fade’ makes him sound like a divorced magister who works Vint kids’ birthday parties.”

You smile genuinely this time trying not to laugh as you sip your mug of tea. You know exactly who he’s talking about. You lay your head on the back of the chair gazing up at the ceiling for a minute.

“I guess…we can’t call him Bones either,” you reply, the ghost of a dimple resurfacing.

“Bones,” Varric tested it out himself, “No- I like the sound of that. Long O roles off the tongue. It’s catchy.”

But…you grimace, shaking your head as Varric writes it down.

“What? Why not?” he asks while peering at you over the frames of his reading glasses like a judge, “It’s not like I called him ‘Bone Daddy’.”

You turn a shade of crimson they’d call wine dark in Antiva. Your typical cool composure utterly evaporates. And now… now realization spreads across Varric’s rugged features like a glint of sun through Stormcoast clouds. Even worse, he says nothing in reply leaving you to dig yourself out of this.

“What?” you sputter and his brows raise further, “Look. I don’t know who started calling him Bone Daddy-”

It’s at this inconvenient moment that Emmrich Volkarin swans in. He comes to a halt between you both at the head of the table. His arrival is followed by the loudest silence you’ve ever heard.

“There’s an aura of conspiracy about this room,” Emmrich drawls theatrically. He glances at you sideways, his gaze budding with a growing warmth.

And then Varric does something truly devious, smirking all the while:

“Afraid you caught us red-handed, Professor. Rook has a talent for coming up with the most creative nicknames… You should ask them about it.”

inspired by a post by @a-lyoshka

[kibuto]

Fictober 2018 - Prompt #14

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Pairing/Characters: Male Hawke and Fenris, Varric Tethras Prompt: "Some people call this wisdom"

"All right, I think I'm done testing my luck for the night," Hawke said and stretched his arms high over his head.

Varric laughed as he collected up the cards as well as the gold Hawke had lost to him. "You're learning, Hawke. Never bet against a dwarf." He winked at Fenris, who smirked slightly. "You too, elf. I'll get those five royals you owe me later."

"And I promise that you will get them." Fenris pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet. He swayed slightly, but righted himself and retrieved his tankard from the table to finish it off.

"Quitting before you're in over your head - you know, Hawke, some people call this wisdom. You should apply it to your daily life, too." Varric kicked back and signaled for another drink.

Hawke blew a raspberry. "Honestly, Varric. I've been accused of being many things, but wise has never been one of them."

Fenris snorted a laugh. "Truer words were never spoken." He set his empty tankard down and nodded to Varric. "I'll see you next week, if not before," he promised.

"See you next week," Varric agreed with a return nod.

"Hawke," Fenris said, settling the full weight of his heavy-lidded gaze on him. "I look forward to seeing you again."

"I'll be here." Hawke met those bottle-green eyes and held steady. The more difficult task, really, was breaking away from them. Thankfully, a moment later Fenris turned and began making his way out of The Hanged Man.

"Well?" Varric asked in an undertone. "What are you doing staying here?"

"Having a drink with my friend," Hawke replied, saluting with his tankard.

"What? Okay, so broody elves really aren't my thing." Varric let all four feet of the chair drop back to the floor. "But you've made it pretty obvious that they're yours. He gave you an opening! Go after him, you big beardy idiot."

"Am I an idiot or am I wise?" Hawke challenged with a lift of his eyebrows.

"I'm pretty sure the only actual 'wise' you are is a wise-ass. Get out of here, already!" Varric flapped his hands to shoo Hawke from the tavern.

"You really are one hell of a wingman." Hawke leaned down to plant a sloppy kiss on Varric's cheek before jogging between tables and out the door.