aubb
Title: For Man is a Giddy Thing
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Author: an_ardent_rain
Artist: pyalgroundblz
Character(s)/Pairing:; Hawke x Anders
Written For: au_bigbang
Word Count: ~15,100
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from "Much Ado About Nothing"
Summary: It's very hard, Anders realizes, not to like Garrett Hawke, but he's determined to do it. It's just that meeting his friends, tutoring his sister, and spending more and more time with Hawke makes this increasingly difficult. And when he realizes that Hawke is interested in a little more than just being friends, well. Anders gets tired of resisting pretty quick.
-Author Notes: WOW. Like seriously wow. This was a bit of an undertaking. Just about everything that could possibly go wrong with this story did go wrong. My computer ate part of it to begin with, and things didn't get much better from there. I have to say a huge, incredible THANK YOU to my amazing artist, because honestly I think I was probably a terror to work with because things were so disorganized and awful and I was almost constantly late. So, please - go check out the art and give ALL THE WONDERFUL KUDOS AND COMMENTS IN THE WORLD. The mix is A-MAH-ZING and I think it's really wonderfully perfect for the story. :3 (Psst - you should listen to is as accompaniment for the story, ha ha.)
FANMIX HERE
part one under the cut
Anders knocks on the door quickly, three short taps with his knuckles. He steps back and waits, adjusting the textbook and binder he's holding under his arm. There's a quick shuffling from inside, and then the door swings open to reveal a tall, thin girl with short, dark-brown hair. “Hello,” she says, smiling broadly. “You must be the Latin tutor, right?”
“Ahh... Yes.” Anders smiles back. “Yes, that's me; you must be Bethany.” He extends a hand. “Lovely to meet you.” He makes an awkward jab towards the inside of the apartment. “Can I, er... Come in?”
“Oh! Yes,” she says, stepping inside. “Of course.” She holds the door open and lets Anders step inside, following behind him and pushing the door closed with her foot. “Thank you so much for coming,” she says, walking past him. “I've been having so much trouble already this semester, so seeing your flyer was really a bit of a lifesaver.”
Anders just smiles and makes an agreeing, noncommittal noise. The apartment is small and a little shabby he notices immediately, but it's very clean and well-kept. Right off the living room is a kitchen. It's almost as big as the main room, with a little breakfast area with a sturdy wooden table and a washer and dryer against the wall. Bethany sits down at the table next to a pile of books and gestures for Anders to do the same.
He sinks down into a chair and opens his binder, flipping to a clean sheet of notebook paper. He pushes off the strap of his bag and sets it down on the floor. “Well first,” he says, digging around in a side pocket for a pen, “I just need to know what you're having trouble with.”
Though he's only tutoring five students currently, Bethany is by far Anders' favorite. She's very bright, and a great deal more willing than most to actually do the work. She's friendly and sweet, as well, and he's come to look forward to their sessions just for the chance for a nice conversation.
“Hello Bethany,” he says as he comes in one afternoon, “sorry I'm running a little late. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience.”
Bethany smiles and waves his concern away. “No, of course not,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear as she sits down. “I'm just happy you can still fit me in at all. You've really been helping me. I aced the last test.”
“That's wonderful,” Anders says. “Though really, I don't think you need much help anymore.”
“Well,” Bethany says, “I get a little overwhelmed when I try to study on my own, so I'm still grateful you're here to help keep my head straight.”
They work hard for about forty-five minutes, and it goes well, just as all the previous sessions have. Until they hear the door open, and a gigantic, barking dog bounds into the kitchen.
“Ahh! Monster,” Anders says, batting the dog's face away as it jumps up at him tongue first, licking at his hands and any other part it's able to reach.
Bethany giggles behind her hands and a loud, unfamiliar male voice yells, “Bethany, we're home!”
“I'm sorry, Anders,” she says, scratching the dog's head and then pulling him away by his thick, leather collar. “This big fellow here is Puggsley, my older brother's dog.”
“I'm a cat person,” Anders says, frowning deeply at a wet patch of dog slobber the big beast left on his shirt. “Dogs and I... don't always get along.”
“I don't know about that. Puggsley seems to like you,” the new voice says, and Anders jerks up to see a tall man with dark hair and a full beard leaning against the kitchen doorframe. The man grins. “You must be Bethany's Latin tutor.”
“Yes! Big brother, this is Anders,” Bethany says, putting one hand on Anders' shoulder. “And Anders, this is my big brother - “
“Garrett Hawke,” he says before Bethany can finish, stretching out a hand towards Anders. “But you can just call me Hawke.” Anders tentatively shakes it. The hand is big and calloused, and the handshake is firm. “Good to meet you.” He yanks another chair out from the table and throws himself into it, slinging an arm around his sister. “Bethany has said nothing but fantastic things about you. Thought I'd never get to meet you, though.”
“Well, we had to meet a little later than we normally would,” Bethany said, smiling at her brother and then shrugging off his arm. “I thought you wouldn't be home until later.”
“Wasn't planning on it, but Aveline had to cancel dinner so I thought I'd just head back early.” He lifts one eyebrow and gives Anders a discerning look. Anders huffs to himself and crosses his arms, a little self-consciously. Hawke grins. “Glad I did.”
“Uh-huh.” Bethany stands up, and pulls Anders along with her. He frowns, but lets Bethany tug him anyway. “Well, as well-meaning as you are, I think that having someone else here might be a little too distracting.” She walks Anders closer to the door. “Sorry,” she tells him. “We'll pick this up next time, all right?”
"Um, yes, that's fine, Bethany." She opens the door and herds him outside. "But I - "
"Sorry, Anders, I know you have to go. I'll talk to you later!"
"That's... fine," Anders says, staring at the door Bethany had just closed behind him. He shrugs and rolls his eyes. "I'll just go."
Bethany ignores her brother's eyes on her and goes into the kitchen. She busies herself getting a glass of water. Hawke just watches her.
"Bethany," he says, rubbing hard behind Puggsley's ears. "You rushed him away awfully quick."
"He was busy."
"I don't think he was."
She huffs to herself and sits at the table. "Well, Garrett, you don't always know best, do you? Anders was very busy."
He grins. "Too busy to talk to me?"
"Yes."
"You say that with unexpected vehemence, dear sister." Hawke pulls the binder Bethany's studiously inspecting away. "I think I'd like to talk to him."
Bethany groans. "I knew it," she says. "I knew it! Garrett, you can't. I don't care how good-looking you think he is - "
"So you do agree he's good-looking."
Bethany gives her brother a flat look. "That really isn't the point."
Hawke rolls his eyes. "It is, Bethany. What do you think I'm going to do - ravish him in front of you? I just think we could have a very nice conversation." He stands up and stretches, then walks over to the refrigerator. "It's my turn to cook dinner, isn't it?"
Bethany nods. "Talking is fine, Garrett. As long as it's just talking. You are not allowed to date him!"
"I don't want to date him."
"Well you're not allowed to do anything else to him, either."
"Bethany." Hawke laughs as he measures out a cup of rice. "It's almost as if you don't trust me."
"When it comes to your libido, brother, I really, really don't."
Kirkwall University is, in some respects, a very prestigious school. It has one of the best football teams in all of Thedas, and is renowned for its art department. It's also, in Anders's opinion, too crowded, with a too-large campus, and too many rundown buildings. It's also in Kirkwall, a city-state known for both its fanatical sports fans and the enormous income gap between the upper and lower classes. Anders does not find it a particularly nice place to live.
Anders lives in a very small, pre-furnished apartment about a block away from campus. It isn't a particularly nice place, and there is a bit of a roach problem, but it's cheap and the location is convenient. He can walk to and from campus everyday, and there's a little grocery store right nearby.
He enjoys the walk - it's a little bit of exercise, and in nice weather it's a lovely chance to be outside. Normally. When he's interrupted, however, it's a rather different experience.
"Hey!" a voice calls out to him. "Hey, Anders!" He sighs heavily and turns around. He's in a bad mood already and the voice's cheery tone only exasperates him more.
"What do you - " He stops suddenly, feeling a mixture of confusion and aggravation when he sees Bethany Hawke's older brother waving at him and jogging over. "What do you want?" he asks bluntly.
The man smiles, his hair windswept and his shoes covered in mud. "I'm Bethany's brother," he says, holding out a hand. "You remember me?"
"Er... yes," Anders says, reaching out and shaking his hand. "I suppose so. I don't remember your name, though."
"It's Garrett," he says quickly, "but you can just call me Hawke."
"Hawke," Anders repeats. "Well, it's nice to meet you again. Officially." He's only lying a little bit.
"Yeah." The man grins at him and Anders wonders if he realizes that he's holding him up. "So what are you - "
"I'm sorry," Anders says, looking as conspicuously as he can at his watch. "But, um. Don't you have somewhere to be? It is about class time, anyway..." He clears his throat.
"Oh, no, it's fine," Hawke tells him. "I'm free until practice later." He points to his shirt, which has Kirkwall Athletic Department printed on it.
"Oh, that's... that's nice," Anders says. He looks at his watch again.
"Yeah, football team," he explains. "You play anything?" Hawke gives him an appraising look. Anders starts a little. If that look was anything to go by, he was getting checked out. But that just didn't seem possible.
Anders shakes his head. "No. I'm not... I'm not a big fan of organized sports." He didn't add that he especially disliked Hawke's own sport, not least because the athletic department was always at odds with almost all the others, especially the humanities. He smiles wanly. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have a class to get to, so if you'd excuse me..."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hawke says. "Didn't mean to keep you. What class?"
He sighs impatiently. "I'm teaching one of the 101 seminars. Literature. And I really don't want to be late."
Hawke starts to say something else, but Anders shakes his head and waves a quick goodbye. He turns and starts walking briskly.
"...bye," Hawke says, mostly to himself, watching Anders walk away. He frowns and makes a mental note to talk to Bethany. Because it really seemed as if Anders didn't like him - and that, Hawke thinks, is just ridiculous.
Anders checks his watch. Bethany asked him to meet her at Hightown, a popular - if overly trendy - little café right off campus, but she’s already running a little late.
He half considers leaving and just giving her a message that they can meet up later, when he suddenly spots her jogging up, her long emerald green broomstick skirt flapping around her legs.
“Sorry!” she calls as she slows down towards him. She smooths her hair down back into place and flashes him a warm smile. “Sorry, we had an exam in my last class. Had to stay late to finish it.”
“That’s fine,” he says, smiling in return. “I hope you did well on it at least?”
“Oh yeah,” she says. She opens the door to the café and walks in, Anders following right behind her. “It took forever, but not really because it was hard. I just had a little trouble getting my thoughts together - I used almost a whole page on each question.”
They order their drinks - a chai latte for Anders and an iced coffee for Bethany - and then take a seat at a small round table with colorful mismatched chairs. Anders’ has polka dots and Bethany’s is painted in rather obnoxious pink and purple wavy stripes. “This is a... quaint place,” Anders says with disdain, looking around. The rest of the place is much the same, with lots of colorful prints from local artists dotting the walls.
“Yeah it is, isn’t it?” Bethany beams. “Whenever I need a little break from the library I take my books and come study here. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Well it’s, ahh...” He shrugs a little and Bethany laughs to herself. “I suppose it’s just not really my kind of place.”
She grins. “Too popular for you, hmm?”
Anders rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to make fun.” Bethany laughs again and then sips her drink. “So why’d you ask to meet me, anyway? It’s not about the tutoring, is it? You could have asked me at our last meeting.”
Bethany straightens up in her seat, looking much like she’s ready to get down to business. “No, it’s not about the Latin,” she says. “It’s actually about my brother.”
Anders gives her a look of confusion. “Your brother? What about him?”
“Well, I only saw that first time you met, but when you ran into him again, he said that you gave him the impression... you didn’t like him.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “Do you have anything against him?”
Anders frowns deeply behind his cup. “I don’t... have anything against your brother necessarily,” he says, “I just don’t think we’d get along. For heaven’s sake, Bethany, he plays football.”
Bethany tries, but she can’t quite hide the amusement on her face. “And that’s some sort of crime?”
“Maybe it should be.”
Her shoulders shake and for a moment Anders doesn’t know what’s going on, but after half a second he realizes Bethany is laughing. Uproariously. Trying to keep it down as best she can by putting her hand over her mouth.
“Well, I was kidding, Bethany,” he says, “but it wasn’t that funny.”
“Oh no,” she says, waving his words away. “Don’t worry, I’m not laughing about that.” She presses her lips together hard, trying to bottle in another burst of giggling threatening to come out. “It’s... it’s just something my brother said. That’s all.” She takes a drink, starting to visibly calm down. Then she gives Anders another smile. "I suppose he just wanted to check up on you; maybe talk with you a little. You and I spend a lot of time together studying, after all. Garrett can be very overprotective."
Anders snorts. "Overprotective? That's taking it a little far, I think."
"Possibly," Bethany says with a shrug. "Or maybe he just... thought you were interesting. Maybe he wanted to be your friend."
"Don't be ridiculous, Bethany," Anders says. "He doesn't even know me."
“Well? Come on, Bethany, tell me - what did he say.”
“Garrett, I’m trying to study, can we please talk later?”
Bethany looks down at her notes, ignoring her brother. Or at least trying to, because as soon as he realizes she’s determined not to answer his question he sits down beside her. “Bethany,” he whines, setting his chin down on the table and grabbing one of her spare pencils. “It will take two seconds. Please.”
“Ugh, you are such a child!” she says. She stands and snaps her book shut. “You know, I was going to tell you as soon as I’d finished studying but now I’m not going to say anything at all.”
“But you did talk to him, didn’t you?”
Bethany rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask him out for you if that’s what you want to know.”
“Of course not. I can do that myself.”
Bethany rolls her eyes again, harder, and stands up. “If you can do it yourself, then stop pestering me about it! And let me remind you, he's my Latin tutor. You are not allowed to date him!”
“Oh come on.” He grins at her, and follows her to the couch. “At some point in the conversation, you must have mentioned me.”
“Barely,” she retorts. “And you know what he said? That he doesn’t like football.”
Garrett looks at her in disbelief. “What? Who doesn’t like football?”
“Anders, apparently.” She rolls her eyes. "There are hundreds of other guys on campus. Date one of them."
Very predictably, Bethany thinks, none of her warnings deter her brother. If anything, the aspect of Anders being off limits - both due to Bethany's warnings and the fact that Anders didn't actually want to spend any time with him - only seemed to make Garrett want him more.
Whenever he was free, which was a lot more often than before despite being busier than ever with football, he was hanging around during Bethany and Anders's study sessions. He didn't bother them, he didn't even talk much - he just hung around mostly, talking to Anders on the few occasions Anders wasn't openly contemptuous of him.
And it wasn't as though Anders hadn't noticed, either. Bethany hadn't told him that her brother had a rather enormous interest in him, although he had noticed that Garrett was being a little creepy. Bethany wasn't sure whether to defend her brother or not. If nothing else, at least, Garrett did have the habit of being a little intense. At least he hadn't progressed to outright stalking yet.
"I'm not going to stalk him," Hawke hisses at his sister, as Anders waves goodbye and walks out the door.
Bethany rolls her eyes. "Really? Because you're almost there already."
"Maker's breath, Bethany, this is my home. I'm stalking him, right here, while he's visiting my apartment? It's not like I'm following him, Bethany."
Leandra Hawke, mother and head of the household, laughs to herself. "Really, Garrett," she says, "you ought to just tell this young man you like him. Ask him for coffee sometime."
Bethany gasps. "Mother, don't be absurd! Tell Anders that he's interested in him? Ask to get to know him better? No, Garrett, don't listen, that's far too practical. You should just keep mooning over him in secret and making him think you're creepy."
"You know, you're not normally this sarcastic, Bethany." Garrett gives her a dark look. "It does not become you."
"I'm just teasing," Bethany says. "You really are being ridiculous, though. Everyone's noticed how much this has affected you. I got a call from Fenris yesterday, asking why you'd been so distant lately."
Garrett sighs. "I'll talk to Varric, maybe he can give me some advice."
Leandra and Bethany exchange glances.
Garrett just frowns. "He didn't really say I was creepy, though, did he?"
A good thing to know about Varric Tethras is that even if you don't know him, he probably knows you. He's sitting at his usual table - always reserved - at the back of the Hanged Man when Hawke walks in.
“You look serious, Hawke,” Varric says, waving over Edwina the waitress. She rolls her eyes but brings over another bottle of beer. Varric slides it over to his friend. “Got something to get off your chest?”
Hawke sighs and takes a seat. “No, but you do. Must you always wear those ridiculously low shirts? You have a forest on your chest.”
Varric just smiles and puts a hand on his chest, not rising to the bait. “I don't know Hawke; I've been told it's very attractive.”
Hawke folds his arms on the table and rests his head on the top of them. He groans. “Well it isn't.”
Varric laughs and pats Hawke on the shoulder. “Okay, Hawke, if you say so. Is this just a social visit, then? Or did you need something?”
“Varric, tell me I'm pretty.”
“Is that what you're worried about? Hawke, you're a gem. Just look at that beard. It's very lustrous.”
Hawke grunts and sits up, sinking lower in his chair. “Well Bethany's Latin tutor doesn't think so.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Varric laughs. “Someone doesn't like you and you can't take it. I'd thought we'd talked about this, Hawke. Some people just... aren't ready to appreciate your myriad charms.”
“It's not that.” Hawke frowns. He folds his arms over his chest and looks pointedly away from Varric. “I know I can't expect everyone to like me,” he says. “Though of course they should, but still. It's... It's him. Specifically.”
Varric raises one of his particularly fuzzy eyebrows. “Specifically? If you like him, Hawke, just ask him out for a drink. I'm sure once he gets to know you he'll change his mind.”
“I can't.” Hawke puts his chin in his hand. “He thinks I'm just a dumb jock.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Hawke. You're a very, very smart jock.”
Hawke grins and Varric smiles back, giving him a little nod in return. “Thank you, Varric, you always know just what to say.” He licks his lips and leans in a little closer. “But that's not what I came here to see you for. Oh, and, you absolutely can't tell Bethany. She thinks it's funny that I'm so smitten, but I think she only thinks it's funny because she doesn't believe I'll act on it. She might not be so understanding if she suspects my... intentions aren't pure.”
Varric's eyebrow goes back up. “Pure? Are they ever?”
“Hey, those are her words.” Hawke lifts his head indignantly. “I'm the picture of good behavior. Positively a saint.” Varric snorts and even Hawke's serious face melts into a grin. “Well. Give or take a moment or two of mishap.”
“Well.” Varric steeples his hands together on the tabletop, looking inordinately pleased with himself - as he is often wont to do. “Let me guess. You came to see what I knew about him.”
“Or what you could find out,” Hawke agrees, not even bothering to pretend he had another motive.
Varric nods. “I'll see if I can help you. What's his name?”
“Anders.”
“First or last?”
Hawke frowns. “Both. Or neither. That might be his only name, actually, I'm not sure he has another. Or at least that's what he goes by. Not even Bethany knows what his name is, I think.”
“Okay, well that's unusual enough to at least be a start. Sorry to say I don't recognize it. He's Bethany's tutor, right? Does he work for the school, or maybe he's a student?”
“I think so,” Hawke says, tapping his fingers absently on the table. “I'm fairly certain he's a grad student. In... literature, maybe, or art or something.” He wiggles his fingers. “He's very arty. You know.”
“Not really your usual type, then, I take it.”
“Not at all. But he's very good looking. And Puggsley likes him.”
Varric snorts. “To be fair, Hawke, Puggsley likes everyone.”
Hawke grins. “Still a valid point, though.”
“All right, well what does he look like?”
“He's tall, I think. Yeah, maybe just a little taller than me. Lean. But fit, he's got very nice shoulders. A little stubbly, with blonde-ish hair he's got half tied back in a ponytail. And an earring.”
“Don't think I've ever seen him, Hawke, sorry. But I'll ask around.”
“Ask around, Varric? About who?” Isabela comes stalking over and takes a seat next to Hawke. She gives the two men a catlike smile and drapes her arm around Hawke's shoulders. “Anyone I should know about?”
“Hawke's new boyfriend,” Varric explains.
“We're not... together,” Hawke says. He pouts. “He doesn't like me.”
Isabela laughs and pinches one of Hawke's cheeks between two fingers. “How terrible! How could someone not like you?”
Varric laughs as Hawke says “That's what I said.”
“Well.” She scoots over back to her own place and crosses her legs. “Maybe I can help, boys. Who exactly is Hawke's new mystery man?”
“His name is Anders,” Hawke says. “He's Bethany's Latin tutor.”
“Is he? I'll bet Bethany isn't happy about that.”
“Technically,” Varric explains, “Bethany doesn't know.”
Hawke grins. “She knows,” he says, “but she doesn't actually believe I'm going to act on it.”
“Oh, hi, Isabela,” Bethany says, waving to her friend. “Sorry I can't really talk, I'm in the middle of studying.” She looks to her left and remembers suddenly that she's not alone. “Oh! This is Anders, he's helping me out with a little tutoring. Anders, this is Isabela.”
For half a moment Isabela just stares at him, eyes going wide. Then she laughs once, a huge, devious grin spreading over her face.
Anders' ears turn red and he looks down at the table. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, don't you remember?” She sits down on the table and crosses her legs, leaning in closer to them. “We've already met.”
Bethany remains oblivious to the sudden tension, though she does look from Anders to Isabela curiously. “You two know each other?”
“Not.. really,” Anders hedges, shifting and looking uncomfortable.
Isabela's demure laugh turns into a cackle and she lifts her head high as she cackles.
Bethany looks even more confused. “Do you... not know each other then?”
“It was a rather casual acquaintance,” Isabela explains. Anders turns even more red and sinks lower in his chair. “We met a little ways back, at a nightclub called The Pearl. And to be honest...” She smiles salaciously and winks at Anders. “We didn't do much talking.”
“Yes,” Anders explains, talking quickly and looking like he'd like to run out of the library as fast as he can. He just continues shifting in his chair, however, not meeting Isabela's eyes. “It was one night and we, er. Well, I don't think either one of us was entirely sober.”
“It was one very, very good night,” Isabela says, then laughs again at Anders’s eye roll and expression. She hops off the table gracefully and stretches, enjoying watching Anders squirm. She continues grinning and gives Bethany a farewell pat on the shoulder. “Well, I just happened by here and wanted to say hello. But I've got to go. I, uh. I have to meet your brother. I'll see you later.”
“You've been teasing me all night,” Hawke complains. He kicks Isabela gently under the coffee table. She laughs and crawls into his lap.
“I know,” she says, “and I'm sorry, pet.” She bites her lip and laughs, patting him affectionately on the cheek. “But. I'm got some rather colorful news.”
“I know,” he says. “But what is it? You're being very mean to me, you know.” He takes another drink of his beer. It's been a long night, he thinks, or at least it's felt like it, and he's already on his way to being very drunk indeed.
“All right, well. If you must know. I have a little something interesting to tell you about your newest crush.”
“What?” Hawke sits up straighter and shifts Isabela, looking straight into her face. “What do you know? Isabela, if you don't tell me I'm going to be very... very cross.”
She hums to herself and cuddles closer. “Well all right. Since you asked so very nicely.”
Hawke harrumphs to himself and Isabela chuckles.
“I stopped by the library one day - just to see what has you so smitten.”
“I'm not smitten,” he whines. “I just want to fuck him. Just a little. Just once. Or maybe twice. And kiss him. And maybe buy him dinner and then take him for long walks on the beach with me and Puggsley.”
“Shh,” Isabela whispers, putting a finger to his lips. His beard tickles her but it effectively silences him. “Be quiet, love, I'm trying to tell you. But. If you're interested in a roll in the hay... I can already tell you.” She laughs again and kisses his cheek. “It would be well worth your time.”
“What?!” Hawke sits up and Isabela slides off onto the other couch cushion. “No. Isabela! You didn't.”
“I'm sorry, Hawke,” she says with a pout on her pretty face. “It was before I knew and it was only one night. And to be fair, we'd both been drinking.”
Hawke groans. “It's not fair. It's not fair,” he says again. “You get him but I don't? I don't? But I'm so handsome.”
“You are,” Isabela tells him consolingly. “And I'm sure he'd love to do you. You just need to convince him you're worth his time.”
Hawke goes still and thoughtful for a long moment. Isabela gets bored waiting for his response and yawns, stretching out long and lean across the couch and his lap. He puts a hand on her leg unthinkingly, and Isabela turns on her side, snuggling deep into one of the little decorative pillows Bethany'd put out to make the apartment more festive. “You're right,” he says finally.
“Of course I am,” Isabela says drowsily. “Don't sound so surprised.”
“Convince him,” Hawke repeats. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
“You could use money, right Hawke?”
“Why yes, Varric, my family is practically destitute, thank you for bringing it to the attention of the room.”
“Garrett,” Leandra says, with fond exasperation, cuffing her eldest child on the back of his head, “be nice.” She turns to Varric. “He’s exaggerating, of course.”
“But, Mother, we could use money. Why do you ask?”
“You remember my brother... Bartrand?”
Hawke huffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, of course, that charming fellow.”
Varric only nods and strokes his chest. “So you do remember.” He smiles slyly. “He’s putting together a little... expedition.”
“Expedition?” Hawke asks, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“You know the Tethras family is... well-to-do. I may have slightly undersold just how well-to-do.”
Hawke whistles appreciatively. “Really? And what, the Tethras scion is just giving money away to anyone who wants to do a little expeditioning?”
“There might be a very small catch.”
Hawke grins. “Of course there is.”
“We have extensive property, and Bartrand’s living in the manor house on our land.”
“Manor house?” Bethany blurts out. “Varric, you really have a manor?”
“All that and more, Sunshine. And - and I have no idea if this is true or not, Hawke - but it’s rumored we have a sort of... family storeroom, somewhere underground. Bartrand wants a discreet team to go and retrieve something very, very valuable that’s in the storeroom.”
Bethany snorts loudly. Leandra gives her a look and Bethany’s shoulders slump, a sheepish expression on her face. “Varric, that doesn’t sound at all legitimate.”
Hawke crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “If it’s on his property, then I suppose technically it’s his.”
“Especially,” Varric adds, “if someone unconnected to Bartrand were to just happen across it.”
“This sounds like it could be dangerous, Varric,” Leandra says, frowning a little and sounding a touch disapproving. It’s enough to make Varric bow his head.
“Maybe, Mrs. Hawke, but I have my brother’s assurances that it’s perfectly safe as long as you’re careful - and should either or both your children accompany me, they’ll be very well compensated.”
“I’m in,” Hawke says. Both his mother and his sister turn their heads to look at him, but he just shrugs. “First, we’re assuming that Varric’s crazy brother is in fact telling the truth. And I know what you’re going to say, Mother, but I can assure you, he is crazy. And second, even if there is some sort of... Tethras family vault, deep underground... Actually, no, that’s it, because I’m rather sure there won’t be one.”
“I don’t know,” Varric says, “it’s an old family legend that we’re descended from dwarves.” Bethany giggles and Varric looks pleased with himself.
“What will we have to do, Varric?”
“Just grab some camping gear and spend some time out in the woods for a weekend. If we don’t find it, then we just don’t find it.” From Hawke’s expression, it was clear that’s the scenario he found most likely.
“I’m coming, too,” Bethany announces. “I know you’re worried, Mother, but Garrett’s right.” She smiles, trying to soothe the worried expression from her mother’s face. Ever since Carver’s death, Leandra’s been over-protective of her daughter; Bethany can’t blame her, really, she misses her twin brother, too. But a camping trip with her friends won’t put her in any danger. “We’ll be fine. And!” she adds, as an afterthought, “we can invite my tutor, Anders.” She beams, and Hawke raises one interested eyebrow. “He used to be a nurse.”
It takes a bit of persuading to talk Anders into it, but he does eventually agree to go with them.
The results of Varric's wild venture are threefold: Hawke's suspicion that Bartrand Tethras is absolutely insane becomes a certainty, they make enough money from what Bartrand's pays them what they find to pay off Leandra's brother's gambling debts, and although still not quite as interested as Hawke would like him to be, Anders finally warmed up to him.
"Does he really have to be here?" Fenris asks Hawke, gesturing with a nod towards Anders.
Hawke laughs. "He's just helping us move," he tells his friend. "I'm allowed help, aren't I?"
"I like him," Isabela says, grabbing a box out of the truck.
Fenris just grunts. "That doesn't count," he says. "You like almost everyone." Isabela bumps him with her hip as she walks by. She grins. Fenris just rolls his eyes and follows her inside.
"I can't believe you're getting your old family home back," Merrill says. She offers Hawke a drink from her bottle of water; he takes it gratefully and knocks the rest of it back. "It's very romantic, isn't it?"
Varric laughs. "Daisy, you think everything's romantic."
"Well," she says with a shrug, "it is!"
"I wouldn't call it terribly romantic," Hawke says. "Unusual, maybe. Improbable. Although knowing Uncle Gamlen... I suppose it's not that improbable after all."
"What?" Anders asks. He wipes sweat off of his brow and sighs. "Your uncle bought you this house?"
Hawke laughs. "No, nothing like that. Uncle Gamlen is..." He shrugs.
"Not a very pleasant man," Merrill contributes.
"A degenerate gambler," Varric says.
Anders looks surprised. "Oh. Er... what did happen then? If you don't mind my asking."
Hawke looks positively giddy at the thought of Anders being even remotely interested in his life. "This is the house my mother and her brother grew up in. My mother left to marry Malcolm Hawke - a young, barely scraping by musician her parents greatly disapproved of."
"See?" Merrill whispered to Varric. "This part's romantic."
Hawke just grins. "They didn't talk to my mother for years - I never even met my grandparents. And, even though it turns out they wanted to, they never managed to patch things up before they died. No one knew where my mother was, so even though the will split things up between them, Gamlen got control of the estate."
"And then," Varric adds, "he promptly lost it."
"When we got to Kirkwall, he told us that he'd sold it," Hawke says, "but really he'd used it as some sort of leverage for a cartel loan shark so he could pay off his debts."
Anders blinks. "That's impossible."
Hawke laughs. "I really, really wish it was. But it's no matter now - with all the money we made working for Bartrand, we paid off the cartel: what he owed and interest. And after a little..." Hawke clears his throat and both Varric and Merrill look away. "Persuasion," he continues, "I don't think either Gamlen or the cartel will be bothering us again."
"Oh. Well then." Anders smiles at Hawke, vaguely impressed. He grabs another box from the truck, with "books" written in thick permanent marker on the side. "Should I... just put this inside, then?"
"Yeah," Hawke nods. He puts an arm around Anders's shoulders and leads him inside.
“That was delicious,” Hawke says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He walks slow, with a wide, easy gait and even though he knows that it's all a show, Anders can't help but a little moved by his charm.
“I suppose so,” he says grudgingly, and Hawke laughs, gently bumping shoulders with him. Anders can't help it, and despite himself he smiles.
“I, uh.” Hawke clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck. Anders raises a brow and they stop. Anders crosses his arms and watches him shift uncomfortably. Hawke gives him a quick, nervous smile.
“Well?” Anders asks. “What is it?”
“Well since dinner's over, I suppose it's time to go.”
Anders nods. “Yes, that's right. I'm a bit tired and I'd like to take a bath before I grade some papers.”
Hawke shuffles his feet. “Maybe I could walk you home, then.”
It's right then that all the pieces fall neatly into place and Anders realizes what exactly has been going on. “Oh my god,” he says. He looks at Hawke askance, his mouth open in disbelief.
Hawke looks from his left to his right, an expression of confusion painting his face. “What?” he asks. “Is something wrong?”
Anders slaps his forehead with his right hand and says “I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. You tricked me! You set this whole thing up.”
“What are you talking about?” Hawke asks, brows knitted together. He looks genuinely confused and Anders rolls his eyes, convinced that it's all just an act.
“Don't play dumb with me,” he says, poking Hawke firmly in the chest. “This! This whole... you running into me, just incidentally being hungry, and dressed like that. You tricked me!”
“Yes, you already said that,” Hawke says, starting to sound annoyed. He crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot. “What the hell are you on about, Anders? Me just incidentally being hungry? It's dinner time. I was hungry and I thought you might be, too, so I asked you to come with me. That's all.”
“Oh really.” Anders raises one brow in disbelief. “So you're telling me that you haven't tricked me into going on a date with you.”
For half a moment Hawke looks surprised, his eyes going wide. Then he looks guilty and Anders knows he's found him out. “What do you mean?” Hawke asks. He looks worried for a second but then shrugs it off, his face going smug as he looks away, pretending not to have a clue what Anders is talking about. “A date? This wasn't a date.”
“Yes, because I didn't agree to it,” Anders tells him hotly. “But everything else? You dressed up, you paid, and you offered to take me home.”
“That's...” Hawke scratches his head again, but after another moment he gives up and rolls his eyes up to the sky. “Oh give me a break,” he says. “It's not like I planned this or anything,” Hawke tells him, sounding only the tiniest bit petulant. “I would have dressed up for you had we been going on an actual date, but this is just a coincidence. I was meeting some friends of my mother's, and they're rather uptight. She asked me to dress nicely so I did. And I really did just happen to run into you.”
Anders rolls his eyes, too, and licks his lips. “Okay, then why did you pay? Why did you offer to walk me home?”
Hawke smiles sheepishly. “Trying to be nice?” Anders just gives him a flat look and Hawke lets out a long puff of air. “Okay, well. Yes. All right? I know you don't believe me, but I really didn't plan to take you out on a date. Meeting up with you was a coincidence. But.” He tilts his head to one side and gives Anders a rather rakish grin. “Once I realized that I could take advantage of the situation... I might have made it a little - a very little, mind you - like a date.”
Anders just stares at him a moment, then shakes his head. “A date. Wouldn't it perhaps have been a little better to ask me first?”
“Well.” Hawke shrugs. “If I'd asked, you might have said no.”
“So this was better.”
“You got dinner out of it, didn't you?”
Anders rolls his eyes. “That's really not the point.”
“But you can't argue that it's not a plus, can you?”
“You see? This. This is exactly why I would have said no! You're insufferable.” Anders starts walking again, quickly, but Hawke follows him, keeping pace.
“I wouldn't say insufferable.”
“Yes, well you don't have to deal with you, do you?”
“I'm immensely fond of my own company.”
Anders snorts. “I never would have guessed.”
“I'm going to ignore that sarcasm.”
“Oh please. Be my guest.”
Anders keeps walking, hoping Hawke will get the hint, but he just keeps following. He's half-tempted to walk past his apartment just because he's not entirely sure he wants Hawke knowing where he lives, but Bethany adores her brother and though obviously there's a serious case of misguided sibling bias, Anders does trust her judgment enough to know that she'd realize if her brother was that much of a creep.
“Are you going to follow me all the way home?”
“I'm trying to be a gentleman.” Anders can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
“I think what you mean is stalker.”
“I'm not stalking. Both you and Bethany like to use that word. I'm walking with you. If you really wanted to, you could stop me. Or refuse to go any further until I leave.”
“I might do that if I actually thought you'd leave me alone. You're really rather irritatingly persistent. Like a cockroach,” he muses.
Hawke gently nudges him with his elbow, though all it gets him is a vicious glare. “I think you like it,” he says. “I think you enjoy the attention, and though you claim that all I'm doing is bothering you, I think you like being chased.”
They get to his building and Anders stops, willing to let Hawke follow him that far, but a little too annoyed by the whole evening to actually invite him inside. “Actually,” he says, “I prefer to do the chasing.”
Hawke's eyebrow raises and Anders realizes a little too late that sounds a bit too much like flirting. He certainly didn't mean for it to be taken that way. Well. Not really. At least, he only meant that a very, very little. It's almost alarming how easy it is to like Garrett Hawke.
His brow furrows and he looks down, shaking his head. “That’s not... Please don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not going to start chasing you.”
"I wouldn't mind if you did," Hawke says. He touches Anders's arms gently, just a brush with his fingers, and Anders feels warmth shoot out from the spot. It's rather disconcerting, really, and Anders tries not to flush.
A growing problem regarding Anders, Hawke notices one day, is that Fenris really, really hates him. Which in and of itself isn’t really a problem at all, as Fenris hates a lot of things, and generally does it very well and without fuss. But his hatred of Anders, for whatever reason, has inspired a level of vitriolic liveliness that had previously only been imagined for him.
“You can’t really be serious, Hawke.”
“Fenris...” Hawke slows his jog to a stop, panting from the exertion. Puggsley barks and his tongue lolls out of his mouth, the expression on his face one of doggy joy, as he bounds around his master and his master’s friend. They’d left their water in the car, and Hawke’s beginning to wish they’d carried it instead. “Can we drop this? Please? You’ve made your opinion very clear, very often. You don’t like him. You don’t approve. I could do so much better.” Fenris rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. “And really, you know, I probably could do better.” Hawke shakes his head, flinging droplets of sweat from the ends of his hair. “But I don’t want better. I want him.”
“So I can’t talk you out of this... relationship.”
“Sorry,” Hawke says with a smile. He jogs in place slowly for a moment before surging ahead. He looks at Fenris over his shoulder, who’s just started trying to catch up. “Can’t talk me out of it this time.”
They've been on only one date, and that wasn't even a real date, as Hawke had practically conned him into it. But they ate lunch together sometimes and Anders at least deigned to talk to him, and even took Hawke's flirtation - which was frequent and occasionally bawdy - in good humor. If he'd ever been actually as bothered as he pretended to be, Hawke would have stopped pursuing him. He was persistent, yes, anyone could attest to that, but he certainly wasn't desperate.
Hawke and Fenris finish their jog - the same jog they go on nearly every week, at a little before dinner time. "Are you hungry?" Fenris asked. He strokes Puggsley's back absently as Hawke strips off his shirt. "We could go get something to eat."
"Sorry," Hawke says. He can't quite get the smile of his face. "Already have plans."
Fenris groans. "No," he says. "Don't tell me. Please tell me it's not him."
"Sorry," Hawke says. He throws his shirt over his shoulder and shrugs. "Anders and I are meeting Aveline for coffee at Hightown."
part 2
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Author: an_ardent_rain
Artist: pyalgroundblz
Character(s)/Pairing:; Hawke x Anders
Written For: au_bigbang
Word Count: ~15,100
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from "Much Ado About Nothing"
Summary: It's very hard, Anders realizes, not to like Garrett Hawke, but he's determined to do it. It's just that meeting his friends, tutoring his sister, and spending more and more time with Hawke makes this increasingly difficult. And when he realizes that Hawke is interested in a little more than just being friends, well. Anders gets tired of resisting pretty quick.
-Author Notes: WOW. Like seriously wow. This was a bit of an undertaking. Just about everything that could possibly go wrong with this story did go wrong. My computer ate part of it to begin with, and things didn't get much better from there. I have to say a huge, incredible THANK YOU to my amazing artist, because honestly I think I was probably a terror to work with because things were so disorganized and awful and I was almost constantly late. So, please - go check out the art and give ALL THE WONDERFUL KUDOS AND COMMENTS IN THE WORLD. The mix is A-MAH-ZING and I think it's really wonderfully perfect for the story. :3 (Psst - you should listen to is as accompaniment for the story, ha ha.)
FANMIX HERE
part one under the cut
Anders knocks on the door quickly, three short taps with his knuckles. He steps back and waits, adjusting the textbook and binder he's holding under his arm. There's a quick shuffling from inside, and then the door swings open to reveal a tall, thin girl with short, dark-brown hair. “Hello,” she says, smiling broadly. “You must be the Latin tutor, right?”
“Ahh... Yes.” Anders smiles back. “Yes, that's me; you must be Bethany.” He extends a hand. “Lovely to meet you.” He makes an awkward jab towards the inside of the apartment. “Can I, er... Come in?”
“Oh! Yes,” she says, stepping inside. “Of course.” She holds the door open and lets Anders step inside, following behind him and pushing the door closed with her foot. “Thank you so much for coming,” she says, walking past him. “I've been having so much trouble already this semester, so seeing your flyer was really a bit of a lifesaver.”
Anders just smiles and makes an agreeing, noncommittal noise. The apartment is small and a little shabby he notices immediately, but it's very clean and well-kept. Right off the living room is a kitchen. It's almost as big as the main room, with a little breakfast area with a sturdy wooden table and a washer and dryer against the wall. Bethany sits down at the table next to a pile of books and gestures for Anders to do the same.
He sinks down into a chair and opens his binder, flipping to a clean sheet of notebook paper. He pushes off the strap of his bag and sets it down on the floor. “Well first,” he says, digging around in a side pocket for a pen, “I just need to know what you're having trouble with.”
Though he's only tutoring five students currently, Bethany is by far Anders' favorite. She's very bright, and a great deal more willing than most to actually do the work. She's friendly and sweet, as well, and he's come to look forward to their sessions just for the chance for a nice conversation.
“Hello Bethany,” he says as he comes in one afternoon, “sorry I'm running a little late. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience.”
Bethany smiles and waves his concern away. “No, of course not,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear as she sits down. “I'm just happy you can still fit me in at all. You've really been helping me. I aced the last test.”
“That's wonderful,” Anders says. “Though really, I don't think you need much help anymore.”
“Well,” Bethany says, “I get a little overwhelmed when I try to study on my own, so I'm still grateful you're here to help keep my head straight.”
They work hard for about forty-five minutes, and it goes well, just as all the previous sessions have. Until they hear the door open, and a gigantic, barking dog bounds into the kitchen.
“Ahh! Monster,” Anders says, batting the dog's face away as it jumps up at him tongue first, licking at his hands and any other part it's able to reach.
Bethany giggles behind her hands and a loud, unfamiliar male voice yells, “Bethany, we're home!”
“I'm sorry, Anders,” she says, scratching the dog's head and then pulling him away by his thick, leather collar. “This big fellow here is Puggsley, my older brother's dog.”
“I'm a cat person,” Anders says, frowning deeply at a wet patch of dog slobber the big beast left on his shirt. “Dogs and I... don't always get along.”
“I don't know about that. Puggsley seems to like you,” the new voice says, and Anders jerks up to see a tall man with dark hair and a full beard leaning against the kitchen doorframe. The man grins. “You must be Bethany's Latin tutor.”
“Yes! Big brother, this is Anders,” Bethany says, putting one hand on Anders' shoulder. “And Anders, this is my big brother - “
“Garrett Hawke,” he says before Bethany can finish, stretching out a hand towards Anders. “But you can just call me Hawke.” Anders tentatively shakes it. The hand is big and calloused, and the handshake is firm. “Good to meet you.” He yanks another chair out from the table and throws himself into it, slinging an arm around his sister. “Bethany has said nothing but fantastic things about you. Thought I'd never get to meet you, though.”
“Well, we had to meet a little later than we normally would,” Bethany said, smiling at her brother and then shrugging off his arm. “I thought you wouldn't be home until later.”
“Wasn't planning on it, but Aveline had to cancel dinner so I thought I'd just head back early.” He lifts one eyebrow and gives Anders a discerning look. Anders huffs to himself and crosses his arms, a little self-consciously. Hawke grins. “Glad I did.”
“Uh-huh.” Bethany stands up, and pulls Anders along with her. He frowns, but lets Bethany tug him anyway. “Well, as well-meaning as you are, I think that having someone else here might be a little too distracting.” She walks Anders closer to the door. “Sorry,” she tells him. “We'll pick this up next time, all right?”
"Um, yes, that's fine, Bethany." She opens the door and herds him outside. "But I - "
"Sorry, Anders, I know you have to go. I'll talk to you later!"
"That's... fine," Anders says, staring at the door Bethany had just closed behind him. He shrugs and rolls his eyes. "I'll just go."
Bethany ignores her brother's eyes on her and goes into the kitchen. She busies herself getting a glass of water. Hawke just watches her.
"Bethany," he says, rubbing hard behind Puggsley's ears. "You rushed him away awfully quick."
"He was busy."
"I don't think he was."
She huffs to herself and sits at the table. "Well, Garrett, you don't always know best, do you? Anders was very busy."
He grins. "Too busy to talk to me?"
"Yes."
"You say that with unexpected vehemence, dear sister." Hawke pulls the binder Bethany's studiously inspecting away. "I think I'd like to talk to him."
Bethany groans. "I knew it," she says. "I knew it! Garrett, you can't. I don't care how good-looking you think he is - "
"So you do agree he's good-looking."
Bethany gives her brother a flat look. "That really isn't the point."
Hawke rolls his eyes. "It is, Bethany. What do you think I'm going to do - ravish him in front of you? I just think we could have a very nice conversation." He stands up and stretches, then walks over to the refrigerator. "It's my turn to cook dinner, isn't it?"
Bethany nods. "Talking is fine, Garrett. As long as it's just talking. You are not allowed to date him!"
"I don't want to date him."
"Well you're not allowed to do anything else to him, either."
"Bethany." Hawke laughs as he measures out a cup of rice. "It's almost as if you don't trust me."
"When it comes to your libido, brother, I really, really don't."
Kirkwall University is, in some respects, a very prestigious school. It has one of the best football teams in all of Thedas, and is renowned for its art department. It's also, in Anders's opinion, too crowded, with a too-large campus, and too many rundown buildings. It's also in Kirkwall, a city-state known for both its fanatical sports fans and the enormous income gap between the upper and lower classes. Anders does not find it a particularly nice place to live.
Anders lives in a very small, pre-furnished apartment about a block away from campus. It isn't a particularly nice place, and there is a bit of a roach problem, but it's cheap and the location is convenient. He can walk to and from campus everyday, and there's a little grocery store right nearby.
He enjoys the walk - it's a little bit of exercise, and in nice weather it's a lovely chance to be outside. Normally. When he's interrupted, however, it's a rather different experience.
"Hey!" a voice calls out to him. "Hey, Anders!" He sighs heavily and turns around. He's in a bad mood already and the voice's cheery tone only exasperates him more.
"What do you - " He stops suddenly, feeling a mixture of confusion and aggravation when he sees Bethany Hawke's older brother waving at him and jogging over. "What do you want?" he asks bluntly.
The man smiles, his hair windswept and his shoes covered in mud. "I'm Bethany's brother," he says, holding out a hand. "You remember me?"
"Er... yes," Anders says, reaching out and shaking his hand. "I suppose so. I don't remember your name, though."
"It's Garrett," he says quickly, "but you can just call me Hawke."
"Hawke," Anders repeats. "Well, it's nice to meet you again. Officially." He's only lying a little bit.
"Yeah." The man grins at him and Anders wonders if he realizes that he's holding him up. "So what are you - "
"I'm sorry," Anders says, looking as conspicuously as he can at his watch. "But, um. Don't you have somewhere to be? It is about class time, anyway..." He clears his throat.
"Oh, no, it's fine," Hawke tells him. "I'm free until practice later." He points to his shirt, which has Kirkwall Athletic Department printed on it.
"Oh, that's... that's nice," Anders says. He looks at his watch again.
"Yeah, football team," he explains. "You play anything?" Hawke gives him an appraising look. Anders starts a little. If that look was anything to go by, he was getting checked out. But that just didn't seem possible.
Anders shakes his head. "No. I'm not... I'm not a big fan of organized sports." He didn't add that he especially disliked Hawke's own sport, not least because the athletic department was always at odds with almost all the others, especially the humanities. He smiles wanly. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have a class to get to, so if you'd excuse me..."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hawke says. "Didn't mean to keep you. What class?"
He sighs impatiently. "I'm teaching one of the 101 seminars. Literature. And I really don't want to be late."
Hawke starts to say something else, but Anders shakes his head and waves a quick goodbye. He turns and starts walking briskly.
"...bye," Hawke says, mostly to himself, watching Anders walk away. He frowns and makes a mental note to talk to Bethany. Because it really seemed as if Anders didn't like him - and that, Hawke thinks, is just ridiculous.
Anders checks his watch. Bethany asked him to meet her at Hightown, a popular - if overly trendy - little café right off campus, but she’s already running a little late.
He half considers leaving and just giving her a message that they can meet up later, when he suddenly spots her jogging up, her long emerald green broomstick skirt flapping around her legs.
“Sorry!” she calls as she slows down towards him. She smooths her hair down back into place and flashes him a warm smile. “Sorry, we had an exam in my last class. Had to stay late to finish it.”
“That’s fine,” he says, smiling in return. “I hope you did well on it at least?”
“Oh yeah,” she says. She opens the door to the café and walks in, Anders following right behind her. “It took forever, but not really because it was hard. I just had a little trouble getting my thoughts together - I used almost a whole page on each question.”
They order their drinks - a chai latte for Anders and an iced coffee for Bethany - and then take a seat at a small round table with colorful mismatched chairs. Anders’ has polka dots and Bethany’s is painted in rather obnoxious pink and purple wavy stripes. “This is a... quaint place,” Anders says with disdain, looking around. The rest of the place is much the same, with lots of colorful prints from local artists dotting the walls.
“Yeah it is, isn’t it?” Bethany beams. “Whenever I need a little break from the library I take my books and come study here. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Well it’s, ahh...” He shrugs a little and Bethany laughs to herself. “I suppose it’s just not really my kind of place.”
She grins. “Too popular for you, hmm?”
Anders rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to make fun.” Bethany laughs again and then sips her drink. “So why’d you ask to meet me, anyway? It’s not about the tutoring, is it? You could have asked me at our last meeting.”
Bethany straightens up in her seat, looking much like she’s ready to get down to business. “No, it’s not about the Latin,” she says. “It’s actually about my brother.”
Anders gives her a look of confusion. “Your brother? What about him?”
“Well, I only saw that first time you met, but when you ran into him again, he said that you gave him the impression... you didn’t like him.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “Do you have anything against him?”
Anders frowns deeply behind his cup. “I don’t... have anything against your brother necessarily,” he says, “I just don’t think we’d get along. For heaven’s sake, Bethany, he plays football.”
Bethany tries, but she can’t quite hide the amusement on her face. “And that’s some sort of crime?”
“Maybe it should be.”
Her shoulders shake and for a moment Anders doesn’t know what’s going on, but after half a second he realizes Bethany is laughing. Uproariously. Trying to keep it down as best she can by putting her hand over her mouth.
“Well, I was kidding, Bethany,” he says, “but it wasn’t that funny.”
“Oh no,” she says, waving his words away. “Don’t worry, I’m not laughing about that.” She presses her lips together hard, trying to bottle in another burst of giggling threatening to come out. “It’s... it’s just something my brother said. That’s all.” She takes a drink, starting to visibly calm down. Then she gives Anders another smile. "I suppose he just wanted to check up on you; maybe talk with you a little. You and I spend a lot of time together studying, after all. Garrett can be very overprotective."
Anders snorts. "Overprotective? That's taking it a little far, I think."
"Possibly," Bethany says with a shrug. "Or maybe he just... thought you were interesting. Maybe he wanted to be your friend."
"Don't be ridiculous, Bethany," Anders says. "He doesn't even know me."
“Well? Come on, Bethany, tell me - what did he say.”
“Garrett, I’m trying to study, can we please talk later?”
Bethany looks down at her notes, ignoring her brother. Or at least trying to, because as soon as he realizes she’s determined not to answer his question he sits down beside her. “Bethany,” he whines, setting his chin down on the table and grabbing one of her spare pencils. “It will take two seconds. Please.”
“Ugh, you are such a child!” she says. She stands and snaps her book shut. “You know, I was going to tell you as soon as I’d finished studying but now I’m not going to say anything at all.”
“But you did talk to him, didn’t you?”
Bethany rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask him out for you if that’s what you want to know.”
“Of course not. I can do that myself.”
Bethany rolls her eyes again, harder, and stands up. “If you can do it yourself, then stop pestering me about it! And let me remind you, he's my Latin tutor. You are not allowed to date him!”
“Oh come on.” He grins at her, and follows her to the couch. “At some point in the conversation, you must have mentioned me.”
“Barely,” she retorts. “And you know what he said? That he doesn’t like football.”
Garrett looks at her in disbelief. “What? Who doesn’t like football?”
“Anders, apparently.” She rolls her eyes. "There are hundreds of other guys on campus. Date one of them."
Very predictably, Bethany thinks, none of her warnings deter her brother. If anything, the aspect of Anders being off limits - both due to Bethany's warnings and the fact that Anders didn't actually want to spend any time with him - only seemed to make Garrett want him more.
Whenever he was free, which was a lot more often than before despite being busier than ever with football, he was hanging around during Bethany and Anders's study sessions. He didn't bother them, he didn't even talk much - he just hung around mostly, talking to Anders on the few occasions Anders wasn't openly contemptuous of him.
And it wasn't as though Anders hadn't noticed, either. Bethany hadn't told him that her brother had a rather enormous interest in him, although he had noticed that Garrett was being a little creepy. Bethany wasn't sure whether to defend her brother or not. If nothing else, at least, Garrett did have the habit of being a little intense. At least he hadn't progressed to outright stalking yet.
"I'm not going to stalk him," Hawke hisses at his sister, as Anders waves goodbye and walks out the door.
Bethany rolls her eyes. "Really? Because you're almost there already."
"Maker's breath, Bethany, this is my home. I'm stalking him, right here, while he's visiting my apartment? It's not like I'm following him, Bethany."
Leandra Hawke, mother and head of the household, laughs to herself. "Really, Garrett," she says, "you ought to just tell this young man you like him. Ask him for coffee sometime."
Bethany gasps. "Mother, don't be absurd! Tell Anders that he's interested in him? Ask to get to know him better? No, Garrett, don't listen, that's far too practical. You should just keep mooning over him in secret and making him think you're creepy."
"You know, you're not normally this sarcastic, Bethany." Garrett gives her a dark look. "It does not become you."
"I'm just teasing," Bethany says. "You really are being ridiculous, though. Everyone's noticed how much this has affected you. I got a call from Fenris yesterday, asking why you'd been so distant lately."
Garrett sighs. "I'll talk to Varric, maybe he can give me some advice."
Leandra and Bethany exchange glances.
Garrett just frowns. "He didn't really say I was creepy, though, did he?"
A good thing to know about Varric Tethras is that even if you don't know him, he probably knows you. He's sitting at his usual table - always reserved - at the back of the Hanged Man when Hawke walks in.
“You look serious, Hawke,” Varric says, waving over Edwina the waitress. She rolls her eyes but brings over another bottle of beer. Varric slides it over to his friend. “Got something to get off your chest?”
Hawke sighs and takes a seat. “No, but you do. Must you always wear those ridiculously low shirts? You have a forest on your chest.”
Varric just smiles and puts a hand on his chest, not rising to the bait. “I don't know Hawke; I've been told it's very attractive.”
Hawke folds his arms on the table and rests his head on the top of them. He groans. “Well it isn't.”
Varric laughs and pats Hawke on the shoulder. “Okay, Hawke, if you say so. Is this just a social visit, then? Or did you need something?”
“Varric, tell me I'm pretty.”
“Is that what you're worried about? Hawke, you're a gem. Just look at that beard. It's very lustrous.”
Hawke grunts and sits up, sinking lower in his chair. “Well Bethany's Latin tutor doesn't think so.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Varric laughs. “Someone doesn't like you and you can't take it. I'd thought we'd talked about this, Hawke. Some people just... aren't ready to appreciate your myriad charms.”
“It's not that.” Hawke frowns. He folds his arms over his chest and looks pointedly away from Varric. “I know I can't expect everyone to like me,” he says. “Though of course they should, but still. It's... It's him. Specifically.”
Varric raises one of his particularly fuzzy eyebrows. “Specifically? If you like him, Hawke, just ask him out for a drink. I'm sure once he gets to know you he'll change his mind.”
“I can't.” Hawke puts his chin in his hand. “He thinks I'm just a dumb jock.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Hawke. You're a very, very smart jock.”
Hawke grins and Varric smiles back, giving him a little nod in return. “Thank you, Varric, you always know just what to say.” He licks his lips and leans in a little closer. “But that's not what I came here to see you for. Oh, and, you absolutely can't tell Bethany. She thinks it's funny that I'm so smitten, but I think she only thinks it's funny because she doesn't believe I'll act on it. She might not be so understanding if she suspects my... intentions aren't pure.”
Varric's eyebrow goes back up. “Pure? Are they ever?”
“Hey, those are her words.” Hawke lifts his head indignantly. “I'm the picture of good behavior. Positively a saint.” Varric snorts and even Hawke's serious face melts into a grin. “Well. Give or take a moment or two of mishap.”
“Well.” Varric steeples his hands together on the tabletop, looking inordinately pleased with himself - as he is often wont to do. “Let me guess. You came to see what I knew about him.”
“Or what you could find out,” Hawke agrees, not even bothering to pretend he had another motive.
Varric nods. “I'll see if I can help you. What's his name?”
“Anders.”
“First or last?”
Hawke frowns. “Both. Or neither. That might be his only name, actually, I'm not sure he has another. Or at least that's what he goes by. Not even Bethany knows what his name is, I think.”
“Okay, well that's unusual enough to at least be a start. Sorry to say I don't recognize it. He's Bethany's tutor, right? Does he work for the school, or maybe he's a student?”
“I think so,” Hawke says, tapping his fingers absently on the table. “I'm fairly certain he's a grad student. In... literature, maybe, or art or something.” He wiggles his fingers. “He's very arty. You know.”
“Not really your usual type, then, I take it.”
“Not at all. But he's very good looking. And Puggsley likes him.”
Varric snorts. “To be fair, Hawke, Puggsley likes everyone.”
Hawke grins. “Still a valid point, though.”
“All right, well what does he look like?”
“He's tall, I think. Yeah, maybe just a little taller than me. Lean. But fit, he's got very nice shoulders. A little stubbly, with blonde-ish hair he's got half tied back in a ponytail. And an earring.”
“Don't think I've ever seen him, Hawke, sorry. But I'll ask around.”
“Ask around, Varric? About who?” Isabela comes stalking over and takes a seat next to Hawke. She gives the two men a catlike smile and drapes her arm around Hawke's shoulders. “Anyone I should know about?”
“Hawke's new boyfriend,” Varric explains.
“We're not... together,” Hawke says. He pouts. “He doesn't like me.”
Isabela laughs and pinches one of Hawke's cheeks between two fingers. “How terrible! How could someone not like you?”
Varric laughs as Hawke says “That's what I said.”
“Well.” She scoots over back to her own place and crosses her legs. “Maybe I can help, boys. Who exactly is Hawke's new mystery man?”
“His name is Anders,” Hawke says. “He's Bethany's Latin tutor.”
“Is he? I'll bet Bethany isn't happy about that.”
“Technically,” Varric explains, “Bethany doesn't know.”
Hawke grins. “She knows,” he says, “but she doesn't actually believe I'm going to act on it.”
“Oh, hi, Isabela,” Bethany says, waving to her friend. “Sorry I can't really talk, I'm in the middle of studying.” She looks to her left and remembers suddenly that she's not alone. “Oh! This is Anders, he's helping me out with a little tutoring. Anders, this is Isabela.”
For half a moment Isabela just stares at him, eyes going wide. Then she laughs once, a huge, devious grin spreading over her face.
Anders' ears turn red and he looks down at the table. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, don't you remember?” She sits down on the table and crosses her legs, leaning in closer to them. “We've already met.”
Bethany remains oblivious to the sudden tension, though she does look from Anders to Isabela curiously. “You two know each other?”
“Not.. really,” Anders hedges, shifting and looking uncomfortable.
Isabela's demure laugh turns into a cackle and she lifts her head high as she cackles.
Bethany looks even more confused. “Do you... not know each other then?”
“It was a rather casual acquaintance,” Isabela explains. Anders turns even more red and sinks lower in his chair. “We met a little ways back, at a nightclub called The Pearl. And to be honest...” She smiles salaciously and winks at Anders. “We didn't do much talking.”
“Yes,” Anders explains, talking quickly and looking like he'd like to run out of the library as fast as he can. He just continues shifting in his chair, however, not meeting Isabela's eyes. “It was one night and we, er. Well, I don't think either one of us was entirely sober.”
“It was one very, very good night,” Isabela says, then laughs again at Anders’s eye roll and expression. She hops off the table gracefully and stretches, enjoying watching Anders squirm. She continues grinning and gives Bethany a farewell pat on the shoulder. “Well, I just happened by here and wanted to say hello. But I've got to go. I, uh. I have to meet your brother. I'll see you later.”
“You've been teasing me all night,” Hawke complains. He kicks Isabela gently under the coffee table. She laughs and crawls into his lap.
“I know,” she says, “and I'm sorry, pet.” She bites her lip and laughs, patting him affectionately on the cheek. “But. I'm got some rather colorful news.”
“I know,” he says. “But what is it? You're being very mean to me, you know.” He takes another drink of his beer. It's been a long night, he thinks, or at least it's felt like it, and he's already on his way to being very drunk indeed.
“All right, well. If you must know. I have a little something interesting to tell you about your newest crush.”
“What?” Hawke sits up straighter and shifts Isabela, looking straight into her face. “What do you know? Isabela, if you don't tell me I'm going to be very... very cross.”
She hums to herself and cuddles closer. “Well all right. Since you asked so very nicely.”
Hawke harrumphs to himself and Isabela chuckles.
“I stopped by the library one day - just to see what has you so smitten.”
“I'm not smitten,” he whines. “I just want to fuck him. Just a little. Just once. Or maybe twice. And kiss him. And maybe buy him dinner and then take him for long walks on the beach with me and Puggsley.”
“Shh,” Isabela whispers, putting a finger to his lips. His beard tickles her but it effectively silences him. “Be quiet, love, I'm trying to tell you. But. If you're interested in a roll in the hay... I can already tell you.” She laughs again and kisses his cheek. “It would be well worth your time.”
“What?!” Hawke sits up and Isabela slides off onto the other couch cushion. “No. Isabela! You didn't.”
“I'm sorry, Hawke,” she says with a pout on her pretty face. “It was before I knew and it was only one night. And to be fair, we'd both been drinking.”
Hawke groans. “It's not fair. It's not fair,” he says again. “You get him but I don't? I don't? But I'm so handsome.”
“You are,” Isabela tells him consolingly. “And I'm sure he'd love to do you. You just need to convince him you're worth his time.”
Hawke goes still and thoughtful for a long moment. Isabela gets bored waiting for his response and yawns, stretching out long and lean across the couch and his lap. He puts a hand on her leg unthinkingly, and Isabela turns on her side, snuggling deep into one of the little decorative pillows Bethany'd put out to make the apartment more festive. “You're right,” he says finally.
“Of course I am,” Isabela says drowsily. “Don't sound so surprised.”
“Convince him,” Hawke repeats. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
“You could use money, right Hawke?”
“Why yes, Varric, my family is practically destitute, thank you for bringing it to the attention of the room.”
“Garrett,” Leandra says, with fond exasperation, cuffing her eldest child on the back of his head, “be nice.” She turns to Varric. “He’s exaggerating, of course.”
“But, Mother, we could use money. Why do you ask?”
“You remember my brother... Bartrand?”
Hawke huffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, of course, that charming fellow.”
Varric only nods and strokes his chest. “So you do remember.” He smiles slyly. “He’s putting together a little... expedition.”
“Expedition?” Hawke asks, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“You know the Tethras family is... well-to-do. I may have slightly undersold just how well-to-do.”
Hawke whistles appreciatively. “Really? And what, the Tethras scion is just giving money away to anyone who wants to do a little expeditioning?”
“There might be a very small catch.”
Hawke grins. “Of course there is.”
“We have extensive property, and Bartrand’s living in the manor house on our land.”
“Manor house?” Bethany blurts out. “Varric, you really have a manor?”
“All that and more, Sunshine. And - and I have no idea if this is true or not, Hawke - but it’s rumored we have a sort of... family storeroom, somewhere underground. Bartrand wants a discreet team to go and retrieve something very, very valuable that’s in the storeroom.”
Bethany snorts loudly. Leandra gives her a look and Bethany’s shoulders slump, a sheepish expression on her face. “Varric, that doesn’t sound at all legitimate.”
Hawke crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “If it’s on his property, then I suppose technically it’s his.”
“Especially,” Varric adds, “if someone unconnected to Bartrand were to just happen across it.”
“This sounds like it could be dangerous, Varric,” Leandra says, frowning a little and sounding a touch disapproving. It’s enough to make Varric bow his head.
“Maybe, Mrs. Hawke, but I have my brother’s assurances that it’s perfectly safe as long as you’re careful - and should either or both your children accompany me, they’ll be very well compensated.”
“I’m in,” Hawke says. Both his mother and his sister turn their heads to look at him, but he just shrugs. “First, we’re assuming that Varric’s crazy brother is in fact telling the truth. And I know what you’re going to say, Mother, but I can assure you, he is crazy. And second, even if there is some sort of... Tethras family vault, deep underground... Actually, no, that’s it, because I’m rather sure there won’t be one.”
“I don’t know,” Varric says, “it’s an old family legend that we’re descended from dwarves.” Bethany giggles and Varric looks pleased with himself.
“What will we have to do, Varric?”
“Just grab some camping gear and spend some time out in the woods for a weekend. If we don’t find it, then we just don’t find it.” From Hawke’s expression, it was clear that’s the scenario he found most likely.
“I’m coming, too,” Bethany announces. “I know you’re worried, Mother, but Garrett’s right.” She smiles, trying to soothe the worried expression from her mother’s face. Ever since Carver’s death, Leandra’s been over-protective of her daughter; Bethany can’t blame her, really, she misses her twin brother, too. But a camping trip with her friends won’t put her in any danger. “We’ll be fine. And!” she adds, as an afterthought, “we can invite my tutor, Anders.” She beams, and Hawke raises one interested eyebrow. “He used to be a nurse.”
It takes a bit of persuading to talk Anders into it, but he does eventually agree to go with them.
The results of Varric's wild venture are threefold: Hawke's suspicion that Bartrand Tethras is absolutely insane becomes a certainty, they make enough money from what Bartrand's pays them what they find to pay off Leandra's brother's gambling debts, and although still not quite as interested as Hawke would like him to be, Anders finally warmed up to him.
"Does he really have to be here?" Fenris asks Hawke, gesturing with a nod towards Anders.
Hawke laughs. "He's just helping us move," he tells his friend. "I'm allowed help, aren't I?"
"I like him," Isabela says, grabbing a box out of the truck.
Fenris just grunts. "That doesn't count," he says. "You like almost everyone." Isabela bumps him with her hip as she walks by. She grins. Fenris just rolls his eyes and follows her inside.
"I can't believe you're getting your old family home back," Merrill says. She offers Hawke a drink from her bottle of water; he takes it gratefully and knocks the rest of it back. "It's very romantic, isn't it?"
Varric laughs. "Daisy, you think everything's romantic."
"Well," she says with a shrug, "it is!"
"I wouldn't call it terribly romantic," Hawke says. "Unusual, maybe. Improbable. Although knowing Uncle Gamlen... I suppose it's not that improbable after all."
"What?" Anders asks. He wipes sweat off of his brow and sighs. "Your uncle bought you this house?"
Hawke laughs. "No, nothing like that. Uncle Gamlen is..." He shrugs.
"Not a very pleasant man," Merrill contributes.
"A degenerate gambler," Varric says.
Anders looks surprised. "Oh. Er... what did happen then? If you don't mind my asking."
Hawke looks positively giddy at the thought of Anders being even remotely interested in his life. "This is the house my mother and her brother grew up in. My mother left to marry Malcolm Hawke - a young, barely scraping by musician her parents greatly disapproved of."
"See?" Merrill whispered to Varric. "This part's romantic."
Hawke just grins. "They didn't talk to my mother for years - I never even met my grandparents. And, even though it turns out they wanted to, they never managed to patch things up before they died. No one knew where my mother was, so even though the will split things up between them, Gamlen got control of the estate."
"And then," Varric adds, "he promptly lost it."
"When we got to Kirkwall, he told us that he'd sold it," Hawke says, "but really he'd used it as some sort of leverage for a cartel loan shark so he could pay off his debts."
Anders blinks. "That's impossible."
Hawke laughs. "I really, really wish it was. But it's no matter now - with all the money we made working for Bartrand, we paid off the cartel: what he owed and interest. And after a little..." Hawke clears his throat and both Varric and Merrill look away. "Persuasion," he continues, "I don't think either Gamlen or the cartel will be bothering us again."
"Oh. Well then." Anders smiles at Hawke, vaguely impressed. He grabs another box from the truck, with "books" written in thick permanent marker on the side. "Should I... just put this inside, then?"
"Yeah," Hawke nods. He puts an arm around Anders's shoulders and leads him inside.
“That was delicious,” Hawke says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He walks slow, with a wide, easy gait and even though he knows that it's all a show, Anders can't help but a little moved by his charm.
“I suppose so,” he says grudgingly, and Hawke laughs, gently bumping shoulders with him. Anders can't help it, and despite himself he smiles.
“I, uh.” Hawke clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck. Anders raises a brow and they stop. Anders crosses his arms and watches him shift uncomfortably. Hawke gives him a quick, nervous smile.
“Well?” Anders asks. “What is it?”
“Well since dinner's over, I suppose it's time to go.”
Anders nods. “Yes, that's right. I'm a bit tired and I'd like to take a bath before I grade some papers.”
Hawke shuffles his feet. “Maybe I could walk you home, then.”
It's right then that all the pieces fall neatly into place and Anders realizes what exactly has been going on. “Oh my god,” he says. He looks at Hawke askance, his mouth open in disbelief.
Hawke looks from his left to his right, an expression of confusion painting his face. “What?” he asks. “Is something wrong?”
Anders slaps his forehead with his right hand and says “I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. You tricked me! You set this whole thing up.”
“What are you talking about?” Hawke asks, brows knitted together. He looks genuinely confused and Anders rolls his eyes, convinced that it's all just an act.
“Don't play dumb with me,” he says, poking Hawke firmly in the chest. “This! This whole... you running into me, just incidentally being hungry, and dressed like that. You tricked me!”
“Yes, you already said that,” Hawke says, starting to sound annoyed. He crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot. “What the hell are you on about, Anders? Me just incidentally being hungry? It's dinner time. I was hungry and I thought you might be, too, so I asked you to come with me. That's all.”
“Oh really.” Anders raises one brow in disbelief. “So you're telling me that you haven't tricked me into going on a date with you.”
For half a moment Hawke looks surprised, his eyes going wide. Then he looks guilty and Anders knows he's found him out. “What do you mean?” Hawke asks. He looks worried for a second but then shrugs it off, his face going smug as he looks away, pretending not to have a clue what Anders is talking about. “A date? This wasn't a date.”
“Yes, because I didn't agree to it,” Anders tells him hotly. “But everything else? You dressed up, you paid, and you offered to take me home.”
“That's...” Hawke scratches his head again, but after another moment he gives up and rolls his eyes up to the sky. “Oh give me a break,” he says. “It's not like I planned this or anything,” Hawke tells him, sounding only the tiniest bit petulant. “I would have dressed up for you had we been going on an actual date, but this is just a coincidence. I was meeting some friends of my mother's, and they're rather uptight. She asked me to dress nicely so I did. And I really did just happen to run into you.”
Anders rolls his eyes, too, and licks his lips. “Okay, then why did you pay? Why did you offer to walk me home?”
Hawke smiles sheepishly. “Trying to be nice?” Anders just gives him a flat look and Hawke lets out a long puff of air. “Okay, well. Yes. All right? I know you don't believe me, but I really didn't plan to take you out on a date. Meeting up with you was a coincidence. But.” He tilts his head to one side and gives Anders a rather rakish grin. “Once I realized that I could take advantage of the situation... I might have made it a little - a very little, mind you - like a date.”
Anders just stares at him a moment, then shakes his head. “A date. Wouldn't it perhaps have been a little better to ask me first?”
“Well.” Hawke shrugs. “If I'd asked, you might have said no.”
“So this was better.”
“You got dinner out of it, didn't you?”
Anders rolls his eyes. “That's really not the point.”
“But you can't argue that it's not a plus, can you?”
“You see? This. This is exactly why I would have said no! You're insufferable.” Anders starts walking again, quickly, but Hawke follows him, keeping pace.
“I wouldn't say insufferable.”
“Yes, well you don't have to deal with you, do you?”
“I'm immensely fond of my own company.”
Anders snorts. “I never would have guessed.”
“I'm going to ignore that sarcasm.”
“Oh please. Be my guest.”
Anders keeps walking, hoping Hawke will get the hint, but he just keeps following. He's half-tempted to walk past his apartment just because he's not entirely sure he wants Hawke knowing where he lives, but Bethany adores her brother and though obviously there's a serious case of misguided sibling bias, Anders does trust her judgment enough to know that she'd realize if her brother was that much of a creep.
“Are you going to follow me all the way home?”
“I'm trying to be a gentleman.” Anders can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
“I think what you mean is stalker.”
“I'm not stalking. Both you and Bethany like to use that word. I'm walking with you. If you really wanted to, you could stop me. Or refuse to go any further until I leave.”
“I might do that if I actually thought you'd leave me alone. You're really rather irritatingly persistent. Like a cockroach,” he muses.
Hawke gently nudges him with his elbow, though all it gets him is a vicious glare. “I think you like it,” he says. “I think you enjoy the attention, and though you claim that all I'm doing is bothering you, I think you like being chased.”
They get to his building and Anders stops, willing to let Hawke follow him that far, but a little too annoyed by the whole evening to actually invite him inside. “Actually,” he says, “I prefer to do the chasing.”
Hawke's eyebrow raises and Anders realizes a little too late that sounds a bit too much like flirting. He certainly didn't mean for it to be taken that way. Well. Not really. At least, he only meant that a very, very little. It's almost alarming how easy it is to like Garrett Hawke.
His brow furrows and he looks down, shaking his head. “That’s not... Please don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not going to start chasing you.”
"I wouldn't mind if you did," Hawke says. He touches Anders's arms gently, just a brush with his fingers, and Anders feels warmth shoot out from the spot. It's rather disconcerting, really, and Anders tries not to flush.
A growing problem regarding Anders, Hawke notices one day, is that Fenris really, really hates him. Which in and of itself isn’t really a problem at all, as Fenris hates a lot of things, and generally does it very well and without fuss. But his hatred of Anders, for whatever reason, has inspired a level of vitriolic liveliness that had previously only been imagined for him.
“You can’t really be serious, Hawke.”
“Fenris...” Hawke slows his jog to a stop, panting from the exertion. Puggsley barks and his tongue lolls out of his mouth, the expression on his face one of doggy joy, as he bounds around his master and his master’s friend. They’d left their water in the car, and Hawke’s beginning to wish they’d carried it instead. “Can we drop this? Please? You’ve made your opinion very clear, very often. You don’t like him. You don’t approve. I could do so much better.” Fenris rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. “And really, you know, I probably could do better.” Hawke shakes his head, flinging droplets of sweat from the ends of his hair. “But I don’t want better. I want him.”
“So I can’t talk you out of this... relationship.”
“Sorry,” Hawke says with a smile. He jogs in place slowly for a moment before surging ahead. He looks at Fenris over his shoulder, who’s just started trying to catch up. “Can’t talk me out of it this time.”
They've been on only one date, and that wasn't even a real date, as Hawke had practically conned him into it. But they ate lunch together sometimes and Anders at least deigned to talk to him, and even took Hawke's flirtation - which was frequent and occasionally bawdy - in good humor. If he'd ever been actually as bothered as he pretended to be, Hawke would have stopped pursuing him. He was persistent, yes, anyone could attest to that, but he certainly wasn't desperate.
Hawke and Fenris finish their jog - the same jog they go on nearly every week, at a little before dinner time. "Are you hungry?" Fenris asked. He strokes Puggsley's back absently as Hawke strips off his shirt. "We could go get something to eat."
"Sorry," Hawke says. He can't quite get the smile of his face. "Already have plans."
Fenris groans. "No," he says. "Don't tell me. Please tell me it's not him."
"Sorry," Hawke says. He throws his shirt over his shoulder and shrugs. "Anders and I are meeting Aveline for coffee at Hightown."
part 2