A Little White Lie: Part 11
*pokes head in*
*drops fic*
*runs away*
Title: A Little White Lie - part 11/?
Author: signcherie
Rating: T for this chapter
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Spoilers: Middle of Act 2, Anders romance
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela tell her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
crossposting to swooping_is_bad
Previous chapters here
Hawke really wished Bethany were still here.
She missed her sister every day, but right now it was especially poignant. Bethany had always been the one she ran to about men, and at this moment, she really needed Bethany’s comforting words of support. She was an absolute mess. She had taken just about every piece of clothing she owned out of her wardrobe, and it was strewn all over the room. She had no idea what she should wear, or do, or say.
If Bethany were here, she would know exactly what to tell her.
Normally she would ask her mother for help picking out an outfit, but in this situation, there was no way. She couldn’t ask her mother to help her choose what to wear for sex with Anders.
Sex with Anders. Sex with Anders. Oh, Maker. Hawke wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t dreaming.
This was what she’d wanted for so long. She’d dreamed about it over and over. So why was her stomach all churned up inside?
Hawke put her head in her hands and slumped down on the floor next to the bed. She was practically ready to tell Bodahn just to lock the door tonight so she wouldn’t have to think about this anymore.
The bell rang.
Hawke jumped in alarm. It couldn’t be Anders-could it? It was still afternoon. And she hadn’t expected he would ring the bell-he’d specifically said to leave the door open...
She heard Bodahn calling, “My lady, please, let me tell Mistress Hawke that you’re here!”
Isabela’s voice floated up, getting louder. “I’m no lady, Bodahn. And don’t worry. I’ll just poke my head in and make sure Hawke is all right.”
Isabela barged into the room.
Hawke scrambled to her feet. “Isabela!” she exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment at being caught in this state.
The pirate stopped, taking in the condition of the room, the clothing spread out over every surface, and Hawke herself.
“This is what I was afraid of,” Isabela sighed.
Bodahn stumbled in a few moments later. “I’m so sorry, messere,” he said. “I asked her to wait-”
“It’s all right, Bodahn,” Hawke said, giving Isabela a dirty look. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
Bodahn bowed and left.
“Thank you for coming by,” Hawke said, “but I really don’t need anything.” She didn’t think she could take Isabela’s teasing on top of all the stress she was already under.
Isabela sighed again and took Hawke’s hand. “Come here,” she said and led her to the bed, sitting right on top of the clothing and pulling Hawke down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Hawke said. “Really. I just need to be alone.”
“Hawke. Please. I’m here to help.”
Hawke opened her mouth to tell her to go away again. Then she looked at the pirate’s face. There was no humor in Isabela’s dark eyes. Only warmth and concern.
Something loosened inside Hawke. She wouldn’t have thought of Isabela as someone to confide in-but she needed to talk to someone, and here Isabela was, offering the support she so desperately craved.
Hawke put her face in her hands, and all her worries came spilling out.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said. “I should be jumping for joy, right? I’ve wanted this forever. I just can’t stop thinking-what if something goes wrong? I don’t think I could take it.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Isabela said.
“I can’t decide what to wear. What if he doesn’t like what I choose?”
“You’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. And besides, you’ll be taking it off quick enough.”
Hawke groaned. “That’s another thing. He’s never seen me...without clothing. What if he doesn’t...what if I’m not....”
“Hawke. You’re an amazingly beautiful woman.”
“But what if he doesn’t think so?”
“He thinks so. He’s going to be absolutely mad with desire.”
Hawke’s voice dropped to a whisper, and she revealed her greatest fear. “I’ve hardly ever...done this. What if I-what if I do something wrong?”
Isabela put an arm around Hawke and repeated her words from yesterday. “There’s not a wrong way to do it, love.”
“But Anders...he’s had so many lovers. He’s going to think I’m so boring.”
“Listen to me. You know how many partners I’ve had, don’t you? Do you think none of them were virgins?” For the briefest of seconds, Hawke could swear some deeper emotion crossed Isabela’s face, but it was gone before she could be sure. “Sometimes inexperience is its own charm.”
Hawke slumped, and Isabela put her other arm around her, pulling the other woman in for a hug. “Every time you take a new lover,” she said, “you have to start all over, learning what that person does, what they like. The only thing that makes this different is that Anders is already in love with you. So it will be more special than anyone else he’s been with. Trust me.”
Hawke pressed her face against Isabela’s shoulder. “You really think he loves me?”
“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Hawke let herself relax in the pirate’s arms. “Since when did you get so comforting?”
Isabela kissed the top of Hawke’s head and sighed dramatically. “Yes, well, don’t spread it around.”
The pirate disentangled herself from the hug and stood up. With her hands on her hips, she began surveying the clothing options spread around the room.
“I was thinking about the purple dress,” Hawke said. “My mother likes me to wear that one when we have company for tea-”
Isabela shook her head. “Too formal,” she said. “You know Anders is going to show up in that ratty old coat with the feathers.”
Hawke bit her lip. “Then maybe a tunic and trousers? I have that blue tunic with the embroidery-”
“No...” Isabela said. “It’s nice, but it’s not...quite...right.”
Isabela flung open Hawke’s wardrobe and pulled out one of the few things still on a hanger, a little brown dress. “Here it is,” she said triumphantly.
Hawke wrinkled her nose. “That? It’s...ugly.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s brown. It covers me up to here.”
“It’s short,” Isabela said. “It shows off your legs. You have great legs, Hawke.”
Hawke stood and took the hanger from Isabela’s fingers. “But-”
“Do you remember that housewarming party you threw when you first bought the mansion? The one where you got drunk and perched yourself in Anders’s lap for the better part of the evening?”
Hawke covered her mouth. “Oh, Maker,” she said, “I’d forgotten about that one.”
“Well,” Isabela said, “you were wearing this same dress, and before you got so drunk that you decided Anders’s lap was the best seat in the house, you were flouncing around, showing off your legs to great advantage.”
“I don’t flounce,” Hawke said darkly.
“I happened to be watching Anders,” Isabela continued, ignoring her. “And he couldn’t tear his eyes away. That boy has definitely got a thing for your legs, Hawke.”
Hawke frowned. “You really think...?”
Isabela took the dress back and held it up to Hawke. “Oh, yes,” she said, thrusting it back into her hand. “This is the one.”
-----
Anders splashed water on his face, looked in his tiny mirror, and wondered when he’d gotten so old.
He knew he wasn’t anything special to look at. He used to be meticulous about his appearance, but now he was rough and unpolished: hair hacked off above the shoulders, unshaven, clothes little more than tattered rags.
He thought about shaving, and realized he didn’t have a sharp razor. Well. Lucky Hawke.
This was going to be a disaster.
Surprisingly, given the number of sexual partners he’d had, preparing for a...date...like this was a strange experience for him. In the Circle, you didn’t plan. If you found yourself unwatched by templars, you seized the moment. During his escape attempts, he’d occasionally met a friendly stranger willing to help him who was interested in...more. And then there were the whores, though that hadn’t been-well. He’d done it.
He’d had a bit more freedom in the Wardens, before Raven left, anyway, and there had been one planned meeting then...he couldn’t call it a date, exactly...but it was very different getting ready in the Warden barracks with Oghren making obscene jokes and Nathaniel watching you broodily. Back then, he’d brushed out all his long hair and picked his flashiest and most impressive robes. Now he was scrabbling just to make himself presentable.
Perhaps the biggest difference was the one he was trying to avoid thinking about-that none of the others had meant to him anywhere near what Autumn did.
There had been no way to have this back then. Not with templars watching your every move, just waiting for you to form an attachment so they could take it away from you. Not while running for your life, unable to spend more than a night in one place for fear of being captured. Not when sworn to an order as strict as the Wardens, expected to spend your life in vigilance for a threat that wouldn’t return for centuries. He couldn’t have had this, so he pretended he didn’t want it, that he preferred promiscuity to the burden of commitment. He lied to everyone, especially himself. If he couldn’t have anything of substance, well, then he would have substantial frivolity.
It had never made him happy, though. No matter how much he pretended or how hard he lied, he could never silence the part of himself that wanted something more. He wanted to love someone...and have them love him back.
Too long. He’d been fighting it for too long. And by Andraste’s pyre, he wasn’t going to fight anymore.
“Fancy meeting you here, Blondie.”
Anders spun around. Varric was standing in the doorway to the back room.
“Funny,” Anders said. “I could have sworn I locked up the clinic.”
“Oh, yeah,” Varric said. “You did.”
Of course. Anders gestured to one of his wooden chairs. “Please, come in.”
“Nah,” Varric said, “I’m not going to keep you. I’m just here to ask you about Hawke.”
Anders stilled.
“You love her?” the dwarf asked.
I love her, Anders thought, but he couldn’t say the words. No matter how many times he’d thought them in the privacy of his own mind (what little privacy that afforded), it was real now. It was happening. If he said the words out loud, he had the horrible, irrational feeling that it would be taken away from him.
“She’s everything to me,” he said instead. “I’d burn the city to the ground to protect her.”
Varric rolled his eyes. “No need to get all dramatic. I’ll take that as a yes.”
“This is the part where you threaten to disembowel me if I hurt her, I take it?”
“No,” Varric said dismissively. “That’s not really my style. A simple crossbow bolt in the back is all it takes.”
“I’ll...keep that in mind.”
Varric took pity on him and smiled. “She adores you, you know.”
Anders heart thumped. “Does she?”
“Oh, yeah. Since the first time she laid eyes on you in this rathole of a clinic, I’d wager.”
Anders didn’t know what to say.
Varric waved half-heartedly at him. “Make her happy, Blondie.”
He turned and walked out the door.
“I will,” Anders said to the empty room. “For as long as I can.”
-----
Hawke looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She’d never realized it before, but this dress did show off her legs.
She’d followed Isabela’s instructions to the letter, soaking in a hot bubble bath, then dabbing perfume just where she’d said: a drop on each wrist, behind her ears, on each ankle, between her breasts, and-well, another spot. At the pirate’s suggestion, she’d left off her smalls entirely, and she felt incredibly brazen.
Pampering herself had been a good idea. It had calmed her down, and a mellow, peaceful feeling enveloped her, laced with anticipation. Unfortunately, the only thing she could do now was...wait.
He wouldn’t change his mind, would he? He would definitely come. Hawke flashed back to that kiss in the clinic, the desperate way he’d clung to her as he plundered her mouth.
If he didn’t come, she would murder him.
Unsure what else to do, Hawke wandered over by the fireplace. The flames were beautiful, dancing silently, yet burning brightly. The fire looked to her just the way she felt inside.
She heard a noise and looked up. Anders was walking through her bedroom door.
*drops fic*
*runs away*
Title: A Little White Lie - part 11/?
Author: signcherie
Rating: T for this chapter
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Spoilers: Middle of Act 2, Anders romance
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela tell her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
crossposting to swooping_is_bad
Previous chapters here
Hawke really wished Bethany were still here.
She missed her sister every day, but right now it was especially poignant. Bethany had always been the one she ran to about men, and at this moment, she really needed Bethany’s comforting words of support. She was an absolute mess. She had taken just about every piece of clothing she owned out of her wardrobe, and it was strewn all over the room. She had no idea what she should wear, or do, or say.
If Bethany were here, she would know exactly what to tell her.
Normally she would ask her mother for help picking out an outfit, but in this situation, there was no way. She couldn’t ask her mother to help her choose what to wear for sex with Anders.
Sex with Anders. Sex with Anders. Oh, Maker. Hawke wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t dreaming.
This was what she’d wanted for so long. She’d dreamed about it over and over. So why was her stomach all churned up inside?
Hawke put her head in her hands and slumped down on the floor next to the bed. She was practically ready to tell Bodahn just to lock the door tonight so she wouldn’t have to think about this anymore.
The bell rang.
Hawke jumped in alarm. It couldn’t be Anders-could it? It was still afternoon. And she hadn’t expected he would ring the bell-he’d specifically said to leave the door open...
She heard Bodahn calling, “My lady, please, let me tell Mistress Hawke that you’re here!”
Isabela’s voice floated up, getting louder. “I’m no lady, Bodahn. And don’t worry. I’ll just poke my head in and make sure Hawke is all right.”
Isabela barged into the room.
Hawke scrambled to her feet. “Isabela!” she exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment at being caught in this state.
The pirate stopped, taking in the condition of the room, the clothing spread out over every surface, and Hawke herself.
“This is what I was afraid of,” Isabela sighed.
Bodahn stumbled in a few moments later. “I’m so sorry, messere,” he said. “I asked her to wait-”
“It’s all right, Bodahn,” Hawke said, giving Isabela a dirty look. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
Bodahn bowed and left.
“Thank you for coming by,” Hawke said, “but I really don’t need anything.” She didn’t think she could take Isabela’s teasing on top of all the stress she was already under.
Isabela sighed again and took Hawke’s hand. “Come here,” she said and led her to the bed, sitting right on top of the clothing and pulling Hawke down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Hawke said. “Really. I just need to be alone.”
“Hawke. Please. I’m here to help.”
Hawke opened her mouth to tell her to go away again. Then she looked at the pirate’s face. There was no humor in Isabela’s dark eyes. Only warmth and concern.
Something loosened inside Hawke. She wouldn’t have thought of Isabela as someone to confide in-but she needed to talk to someone, and here Isabela was, offering the support she so desperately craved.
Hawke put her face in her hands, and all her worries came spilling out.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said. “I should be jumping for joy, right? I’ve wanted this forever. I just can’t stop thinking-what if something goes wrong? I don’t think I could take it.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Isabela said.
“I can’t decide what to wear. What if he doesn’t like what I choose?”
“You’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. And besides, you’ll be taking it off quick enough.”
Hawke groaned. “That’s another thing. He’s never seen me...without clothing. What if he doesn’t...what if I’m not....”
“Hawke. You’re an amazingly beautiful woman.”
“But what if he doesn’t think so?”
“He thinks so. He’s going to be absolutely mad with desire.”
Hawke’s voice dropped to a whisper, and she revealed her greatest fear. “I’ve hardly ever...done this. What if I-what if I do something wrong?”
Isabela put an arm around Hawke and repeated her words from yesterday. “There’s not a wrong way to do it, love.”
“But Anders...he’s had so many lovers. He’s going to think I’m so boring.”
“Listen to me. You know how many partners I’ve had, don’t you? Do you think none of them were virgins?” For the briefest of seconds, Hawke could swear some deeper emotion crossed Isabela’s face, but it was gone before she could be sure. “Sometimes inexperience is its own charm.”
Hawke slumped, and Isabela put her other arm around her, pulling the other woman in for a hug. “Every time you take a new lover,” she said, “you have to start all over, learning what that person does, what they like. The only thing that makes this different is that Anders is already in love with you. So it will be more special than anyone else he’s been with. Trust me.”
Hawke pressed her face against Isabela’s shoulder. “You really think he loves me?”
“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Hawke let herself relax in the pirate’s arms. “Since when did you get so comforting?”
Isabela kissed the top of Hawke’s head and sighed dramatically. “Yes, well, don’t spread it around.”
The pirate disentangled herself from the hug and stood up. With her hands on her hips, she began surveying the clothing options spread around the room.
“I was thinking about the purple dress,” Hawke said. “My mother likes me to wear that one when we have company for tea-”
Isabela shook her head. “Too formal,” she said. “You know Anders is going to show up in that ratty old coat with the feathers.”
Hawke bit her lip. “Then maybe a tunic and trousers? I have that blue tunic with the embroidery-”
“No...” Isabela said. “It’s nice, but it’s not...quite...right.”
Isabela flung open Hawke’s wardrobe and pulled out one of the few things still on a hanger, a little brown dress. “Here it is,” she said triumphantly.
Hawke wrinkled her nose. “That? It’s...ugly.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s brown. It covers me up to here.”
“It’s short,” Isabela said. “It shows off your legs. You have great legs, Hawke.”
Hawke stood and took the hanger from Isabela’s fingers. “But-”
“Do you remember that housewarming party you threw when you first bought the mansion? The one where you got drunk and perched yourself in Anders’s lap for the better part of the evening?”
Hawke covered her mouth. “Oh, Maker,” she said, “I’d forgotten about that one.”
“Well,” Isabela said, “you were wearing this same dress, and before you got so drunk that you decided Anders’s lap was the best seat in the house, you were flouncing around, showing off your legs to great advantage.”
“I don’t flounce,” Hawke said darkly.
“I happened to be watching Anders,” Isabela continued, ignoring her. “And he couldn’t tear his eyes away. That boy has definitely got a thing for your legs, Hawke.”
Hawke frowned. “You really think...?”
Isabela took the dress back and held it up to Hawke. “Oh, yes,” she said, thrusting it back into her hand. “This is the one.”
-----
Anders splashed water on his face, looked in his tiny mirror, and wondered when he’d gotten so old.
He knew he wasn’t anything special to look at. He used to be meticulous about his appearance, but now he was rough and unpolished: hair hacked off above the shoulders, unshaven, clothes little more than tattered rags.
He thought about shaving, and realized he didn’t have a sharp razor. Well. Lucky Hawke.
This was going to be a disaster.
Surprisingly, given the number of sexual partners he’d had, preparing for a...date...like this was a strange experience for him. In the Circle, you didn’t plan. If you found yourself unwatched by templars, you seized the moment. During his escape attempts, he’d occasionally met a friendly stranger willing to help him who was interested in...more. And then there were the whores, though that hadn’t been-well. He’d done it.
He’d had a bit more freedom in the Wardens, before Raven left, anyway, and there had been one planned meeting then...he couldn’t call it a date, exactly...but it was very different getting ready in the Warden barracks with Oghren making obscene jokes and Nathaniel watching you broodily. Back then, he’d brushed out all his long hair and picked his flashiest and most impressive robes. Now he was scrabbling just to make himself presentable.
Perhaps the biggest difference was the one he was trying to avoid thinking about-that none of the others had meant to him anywhere near what Autumn did.
There had been no way to have this back then. Not with templars watching your every move, just waiting for you to form an attachment so they could take it away from you. Not while running for your life, unable to spend more than a night in one place for fear of being captured. Not when sworn to an order as strict as the Wardens, expected to spend your life in vigilance for a threat that wouldn’t return for centuries. He couldn’t have had this, so he pretended he didn’t want it, that he preferred promiscuity to the burden of commitment. He lied to everyone, especially himself. If he couldn’t have anything of substance, well, then he would have substantial frivolity.
It had never made him happy, though. No matter how much he pretended or how hard he lied, he could never silence the part of himself that wanted something more. He wanted to love someone...and have them love him back.
Too long. He’d been fighting it for too long. And by Andraste’s pyre, he wasn’t going to fight anymore.
“Fancy meeting you here, Blondie.”
Anders spun around. Varric was standing in the doorway to the back room.
“Funny,” Anders said. “I could have sworn I locked up the clinic.”
“Oh, yeah,” Varric said. “You did.”
Of course. Anders gestured to one of his wooden chairs. “Please, come in.”
“Nah,” Varric said, “I’m not going to keep you. I’m just here to ask you about Hawke.”
Anders stilled.
“You love her?” the dwarf asked.
I love her, Anders thought, but he couldn’t say the words. No matter how many times he’d thought them in the privacy of his own mind (what little privacy that afforded), it was real now. It was happening. If he said the words out loud, he had the horrible, irrational feeling that it would be taken away from him.
“She’s everything to me,” he said instead. “I’d burn the city to the ground to protect her.”
Varric rolled his eyes. “No need to get all dramatic. I’ll take that as a yes.”
“This is the part where you threaten to disembowel me if I hurt her, I take it?”
“No,” Varric said dismissively. “That’s not really my style. A simple crossbow bolt in the back is all it takes.”
“I’ll...keep that in mind.”
Varric took pity on him and smiled. “She adores you, you know.”
Anders heart thumped. “Does she?”
“Oh, yeah. Since the first time she laid eyes on you in this rathole of a clinic, I’d wager.”
Anders didn’t know what to say.
Varric waved half-heartedly at him. “Make her happy, Blondie.”
He turned and walked out the door.
“I will,” Anders said to the empty room. “For as long as I can.”
-----
Hawke looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She’d never realized it before, but this dress did show off her legs.
She’d followed Isabela’s instructions to the letter, soaking in a hot bubble bath, then dabbing perfume just where she’d said: a drop on each wrist, behind her ears, on each ankle, between her breasts, and-well, another spot. At the pirate’s suggestion, she’d left off her smalls entirely, and she felt incredibly brazen.
Pampering herself had been a good idea. It had calmed her down, and a mellow, peaceful feeling enveloped her, laced with anticipation. Unfortunately, the only thing she could do now was...wait.
He wouldn’t change his mind, would he? He would definitely come. Hawke flashed back to that kiss in the clinic, the desperate way he’d clung to her as he plundered her mouth.
If he didn’t come, she would murder him.
Unsure what else to do, Hawke wandered over by the fireplace. The flames were beautiful, dancing silently, yet burning brightly. The fire looked to her just the way she felt inside.
She heard a noise and looked up. Anders was walking through her bedroom door.