undwarfy | Open post

Hawke shot him a glare. Oblivious moron definitely was nearer the mark, and his amusement at her expense wasn't helping. "Knight-Commander Meredith, obviously," she drawled. "I'm just desperate for her affections, but she's too in love with that sword she's got stuck up her ass."

She took another drink and leaned back in her chair. "You were going to tell me a story."

"Was I?" he shot back, noticing that glare with some satisfaction. "I recall saying no such thing."

He put his feet up on the table and leaned back, settling in. It was Hawke's play now, Varric had no intention of dropping this. "Out with it, Hawke. I can't imagine anyone refusing you anything."

Shit, maybe he was overplaying his hand here.

It was an unsubtle hint, but Hawke was annoyed and frustrated and a little drunk. Subtlety was more wasted on her than usual. "Oh? So that means if I asked, you'd drop this and let me get drunk in peace, hmm?"

"Nope," he smirked. "Not a chance. You've been avoiding me, so I'm gonna keep prying until you tell me why. Also, torturing you as revenge."

Driiiink.

"So no one can refuse me anything, except for you? Figures."

She downed the rest of her drink and pointed at him. "You wouldn't be being so smug if you hadn't put it together. Fine, your ego is stoked, how nice for you. Enjoy that."

She was actually pissed at him, for once. First time for everything. But blight it, he didn't have to rub it in her face like this. She'd leave if she thought she could do it without looking ridiculous. More ridiculous.

"I- what?" Now Varric was actually off-balance. No, he hadn't put it together. He put together that she was lying off her ass, and using her crush on someone unavailable as a cover for the real reason she was avoiding him. He also figured that while her unrequited love was probably part of her problem, it probably wasn't the reason she'd been avoiding him, and that there was something she wasn't telling him.

Now, though, he gave her a very strange look. Hawke was clearly genuinely angry, and under the impression that he'd had some grand revelation. "Are we not still talking about the fact that your crush on someone is 80% likely to be a lie you pulled out of your ass?"

Varric didn't usually just lay his underlying assumptions out on the table like a hand of cards. It showed how confused he was. The truth had occurred to him once, a few days ago, but he was dead-ass convinced that it was impossible. His touching a few minutes ago was just to test a reaction, and he'd thought the reaction was based on still being weird about something, or their friendship being on the rocks somehow.

The odd look he gave her painted a different picture from what she'd assumed. The anger drained out of her. Hawke groaned, then folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them, muttering various curses under her breath.

After a minute of that, she sat up enough to rest her chin on her crossed arms. "No, I'm afraid that wasn't bullshit, it was entirely true. And you were going to tell me why you're exactly the best person to talk to about being smitten stupid with someone you can't have. At least, that was implied. Feel free to make some shit up. Bonus points if you were as much of an idiot about it as I feel right now."

By the time Hawke met his eyes again, Varric look downright alarmed. Well, alarmed might be the wrong word. There was a wary intensity in his eyes, like he was about to jump into a fire, or possibly was handling live bees. Or like he actually was starting to come to a realization.

"That remains to be seen," he said softly, wondering how much of an idiot he'd actually been. "Hawke, who is it?"

She chose a dwarf. She'd been avoiding him- only him. She thought he realized something, something that would puff up his ego. Would- no. No way, never.

All the same, he had to know. Just in case. Hopefully she could hear him over the pounding of his heart- which he was convinced was loud enough to drown out the room.

He gets The Look.

That's it. Just The Look. The patented, trademarked, I'll just wait here while you think about how the answer to what you just asked is blitheringly obvious, take your time, I have all day Hawke look. It gets used a lot, though this might be the first time it's been turned directly on Varric.

Funny thing had happened during the card game: Merrill had sat here, and Fenris there, and then Fenris complained about being next to the witch, and between it all somehow Hawke and Varric wound up next to each other.

So he didn't have to go around the table when he got up. It only took him two steps to get close enough to kiss her.

Hawke was too stupefied to react, much less enjoy it. Varric kissing her was quite literally the last thing she'd expected. It was such a surprise that her mind went blank. She had absolutely no idea what to do. She was off script.

Then a hoot from nearby caught her attention, catcalls, Norah shouting about how Corff owed her twenty coppers and if he didn't pay up she'd haul him before a magistrate. All of that sank in, and with it all the pennies dropped.

Hawke stood up, grabbed the collar of Varric's shirt, and hauled him off to the rooms he kept in the back, completely ignoring the further catcalls. They'd have a lot to deal with later on that front, clearly, but she was not continuing this conversation in public, whatever else came of it.

As soon as they were in (relative, no doubt people would try to listen at doors) privacy, she--found she still had absolutely no idea how to react. She paced. "But...Bianca!" she exploded, waving her hands vaguely in the direction of the crossbow. "You have hello, I'm still in love with this other woman from my past and never going to get over her written all over you! You flirt more with your crossbow than me! In our first conversation, even! I've been trying to seduce you for years and every time it's always pity I'm not into humans and sorry sweetheart, I'm a one-crossbow-dwarf and Bianca's the one story I can never tell, and, and--"

She was practically sputtering. Anger and relief and all other emotions weren't yet relevant, she was still just too damn confused.

Edited 2018-01-30 12:04 (UTC)

He couldn’t argue. Hell, she was right about all of it, even if she was missing half the story.

At a loss, Varric stood on his tiptoes and kissed her again. For a lack of any real idea of how to proceed, it was honestly the thing he wanted to do most.

It had the advantage of stopping the ranting, if only because it derailed her train of thought again. But this time after another moment of shock the rest of Hawke's brain kicked in, took the part of her that was confused, and booted it out of the way for a little while so she could just close her eyes and kiss him back.

After a few minutes of surprisingly chaste if deeply heartfelt kissing, she pulled back just enough to grumble. "You are a nug-fucking idiot, Varric Tethras."

“Agreed,” he nodded sincerely. “For the record, you’re right about everything you said.”

Varric pulled out a chair for Hawke and sat down in his own with a sigh. “I thought I was still, you know, pining away for Bianca. I don’t normally go for humans- you look like spiders in skirts.” Judging by the way his eyes raked over Hawke, she clearly seemed to be an exception. “But come on, Hawke, I know how things go. I’m the loveable sidekick- the supportive best friend.”

His mouth twisted a little. “You think I would’ve said anything? You already have every head case from here to Antiva throwing themselves at you- and they aren’t a species most people consider hairy stumps.”

She sat, but the glare she gave him could melt a hole through the Gallows. "We're not Maker-damned characters in one of your books, Varric. I'm not the hero, you're not the sidekick. Real people don't fit that neatly into categories." She frowned even more at the completely unexpected lack of ego. "You've been watching me for years. Even if there are these hordes head cases pining after me, and I can't say I've noticed if there are, when have I ever, even once, shown even half the interest in them I do in you? Did you need me to paint it on my backside? Hey Varric, I pine and yearn for you and all those pick-up lines are real, love and kisses, Hawke's ass."

Varric could only shrug. “Maybe I just never thought someone like you would ever....”

“Never mind,” he cut off abruptly. Too real, no thanks. “So I’m an idiot.”

She would've liked to dig in deeper to that, but it didn't seem like it'd lead anywhere useful. Another time, maybe, once they were past this initial mess.

"And Bianca?" That question came out more quietly, and with a lot less heat. Bianca was, or at least had been, much more serious business than mix-ups over dwarf vs human attractiveness and years of not-really-in-jest pick-up lines and retorts. Hawke had never asked about Bianca before, not even to tease him. She knew when there were 'No Entry' signs up about someone's past.

Varric sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair, raking bitten fingernails over his short ponytail. “I... shit, I don’t know. That was a long time ago, and I never...”

His voice trailed into an aimless whisper. I never thought I could do this again. I never expected to get over it. I never thought I would fall for someone again. There are wounds that never heal, and wounds that surprise you by healing.

Eventually he came up for air and eyes her with surprising vulnerability that he clearly wasn’t aware of showing. “Imagine being told you’ll never walk again, then years later realizing you just took a step.”

Edited 2018-01-30 15:44 (UTC)

Hawke nodded slowly, digesting this. "All right, I understand that." She tilted her head at him. "So...now what?"

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “Probably talking about feelings and shit.”

Varric sat back in his chair and looked at her. Shit, he was no good at this, but one thing did come to mind. “Did you hear what happened in here the other night? I got some nuglicker kicked out for cheating.”

The irony in that statement stood on its own.

Hawke laughed, as she was meant to, and the mood in the room lightened. She rested her face on one hand. "We're terrible at talking about feelings," she complained. "Can't we just kiss each other brainless for a while instead and let all the feelings sort themselves out on their own? Is that an option now? I'm not really clear on that part."

"Just- let me tell my little story," came his response, with a gentle smile and a raised hand.

"So, aforementioned nuglicker comes waltzing in the other day like a cat with a canary shoved halfway up its backside, makes himself at home at my Wicked Grace game," Varric began. It was a relatively short and uninteresting story, but he still settled in, with gesticulating and emphasis. "Then the little putz starts talking about what he's seen- some juicy little something-or-other, and the little twerp can't stop hinting that I should give two halves of a rat's ass. Anyway, so he tells me about your little, uh, incident at the Rose? Which by the way, is less of an incident than this story is, but this greasy shit can't stop patting himself on the back for it. And Then! he starts talking about you- apparently you all but ran out of there, and Maker help him, he just wouldn't shut up about, oh, 'things I'd like to do to her, blah blah blah, something something slut, blah blah blah, walking funny for days, blah blah blah'." Varric ended the sentence with more force than was necessary, and it was pretty obvious what got Skeezy McGee kicked out of the place. "A few minutes later, wouldn't you know it? I spotted an ace up his sleeve."

Varric was good enough at telling stories, but this one didn't have a planned ending. There was meant to be a point stuck on at the end somewhere, and stringing piece to part was proving difficult. He fidgeted for a moment, fingertip making circles in the grooves of the table's wood grain. "Anyway, my point is- I made an extremely public scene and possibly an enemy over that."

Over someone pissing him off- over her. Varric couldn't talk about his feelings any more easily than he could shit while doing a headstand, but he sure as hell could tell her a story that illustrated his feelings.

She pouted a little--she rather liked the skip talking about feelings and go back to kisses idea--but settles down and listens. She got the point pretty quickly. As he pointed out so often, Varric was a businessman and a storyteller, and a master of both trades, to say nothing of his skill as a gambler. All things that required...subtlety. Self-control. Keeping the reins on your temper.

Varric was much, much too careful for public scenes (unless they were planned, or just hilarious), or for making enemies he didn't need.

"Well," she said finally, "you'll have picked up by now that I'm jealous of your crossbow."

She couldn't really offer an equivalent tale of her losing her shit because of him. Something completely uncharacteristic and absurd to the point of humiliating would have to do.

Varric’s face cracked a warm, slightly smarmy smile. “What, Bianca?” A fond glance at the weapon in the corner. “C’mon, Hawke, there’s room in our marriage for one more.”

Feeling more relaxed, he got up and started pouring out two glasses of the good wine he kept for himself in his rooms. “Bianca likes you. You don’t objectify her the way Isabela does.”

"How could I? She has far too much personality." It came out a little more dry than she intended. Then Hawke did a double-take. "Wait, was that a proposal?"

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