Secret Swooper for Phoenixblaze
Title: No Backup Plan Needed
Gifter: katling73
Giftee: phoenixblaze
Rating: G
Characters: F!Hawke/Fenris with a special guest appearance by Varric
Notes: This is based on my mage Marian Hawke and her epic but argumentative rivalmance with Fenris. It's set in Act 3 after Hawke and Fenris get back together and yes, Hawke is wildly optimistic at the end about her ability to sort things out in Kirkwall. She was like that... right up until Anders ruined all her plans.
Marian Hawke glared at herself in the mirror. There really wasn’t much to glare at, truth be told. The dress she was wearing fit spectacularly, showing off the figure usually hidden by her mage armour. Her makeup and hair were perfect courtesy of Oranna’s skilled and expert hands. She looked stunningly beautiful and not at all like the renegade apostate mage she actually was. She didn’t like it though. She didn’t feel like it was herself she was looking at in the mirror. There was a spark missing from her eyes and she knew it. She’d bought this dress because she knew a certain elf would appreciate it and he wasn’t here to do that.
“Be still my beating heart.”
Hawke whirled around to find Varric leaning in the doorway, a wicked and appreciative grin on his face. He was dressed up to the nines as well, his customary coat nowhere to be seen. Marian took a moment to mourn the lack of chest hair on display. Her heart might belong to a broody elf but she could still appreciate the qualities of Varric’s ample display of manly... or rather dwarfly... chest hair.
“Bianca will get jealous if you keep looking at me like that,” she said tartly as she turned back to the mirror and frowned ferociously.
“Bianca knows I’m a one crossbow dwarf,” Varric replied. He walked into the room and slouched down into a chair by the fire. “So why the big scowl, Hawke? It certainly doesn’t go with the dress and the fancy hair do.”
“Why do I have to wear this get up?” she said, her tone somewhere between grumpy and plaintive. “I was invited as the Champion of Kirkwall. Can’t I go in fancy armour or something?”
“If you did, half the guests would have a fit of the vapours and the other half would faint... after having a fit of the vapours.” Varric paused and grinned again. “So I say go for it. It would certainly make the party more interesting.” He cocked his head slightly. “Speaking of the party being interesting, how come you begged me to come with you instead of taking Broody with? You’d make a spectacular pair and you two are practically attached at the hip these days. Think of the stories I could make up... er, tell about that.”
“I didn’t beg you to come with me,” Hawke said indignantly, striding over to her dresser and going through her jewellery to find a necklace that would go with her dress. She should probably ask Oranna to pick one for her. The former slave had much better taste and fashion sense than she did though Hawke wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to know how Oranna had learned it.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Varric sounded curious and Marian could almost picture his expression - artfully disinterested but with a spark of curiosity in his eyes that meant he wasn’t going to let this go easily. She turned around and yes, she was absolutely correct. She could hold out and be pestered for the rest of the night or give in and just tell him.
“Fenris refused,” she said with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped and an expression of misery crossed her face. “Said he wasn’t going to a party to be sneered at and treated like the hired help. I said that if he dressed properly in the clothes I’d bought him, no one would ever think he was the hired help. We... might have had a bit of an argument about it from there.”
Varric looked amused. “You two have arguments about everything, Hawke. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to put up with each other when you can’t even agree on the smallest things. Also I thought you’d have known better than to buy him things. You know how he gets.”
“It’s part of our charm,” Hawke said with wan humour. “And, well... yes. But the outfit matched mine and we’d look amazing together and, well...”
“It’s part of something,” Varric muttered before continuing in a more normal tone of voice. “So I was your back up plan? I’m honoured to rate that highly though if I’d known what you were up to fashion-wise, I’d have bought a shirt that matched your dress. Or you could have roped Sebastian into this. His shiny white armour goes with everything.”
“You do not need a back up plan.”
Both Varric and Hawke yelped at the low growl that came from the doorway. They turned to find Fenris standing there with a fierce frown on his face and in clothes that were most definitely not his usual armour. Even his sword was absent and the clothes were well made and more than a match for what Hawke was wearing. In fact, Varric noted absently, they matched and contrasted with Hawke’s outfit perfectly. They had to have been chosen by the tailor and the dressmaker working in tandem because there was no way Hawke’s fashion sense… or lack thereof… could have done such a good job.
“Fenris!” Hawke’s voice was a little strangled and the look on her face was a mix of surprise, admiration and a tiny bit of lust. “I... what... it’s you. You look...”
Varric snorted with suppressed laughter and headed for the door. “Eloquent, Hawke. Very eloquent. I think I’ll leave you two kids to sort this out on your own. Not that the discussion you’re about to have won’t be fascinating but I think it might make Bianca cross with me if I stay and watch.”
The dwarf edged his way past Fenris and if smothered laughter floated back into the bedroom, neither Hawke nor Fenris paid it any attention.
“You’re here,” she said a little inanely. “And... you’re... dressed in the things... I thought you said no.”
Fenrir took a few steps into the bedroom and Hawke noticed he was even wearing the pair of soft ankle boots the tailor had sent along. It was the first time she’d ever seen him wearing shoes of any description. She had no idea why she was noticing such an unimportant detail except that it seemed oddly important for some reason.
“I... changed my mind.” The frown had faded and had been replaced with an expression Hawke was familiar with and was coming to dislike. That uncertain hesitation that meant Fenris was out of his depth in a social situation and was afraid of offending Hawke in some way. She didn’t know how to tell him that he’d have to work damn hard to offend her given she even managed not to get put off by his frequent anti-mage rants and she really didn’t know how to tell him that she’d help him get back into his depth if he’d just let her.
“Oh! That’s... good. That’s really good and… and you look really good too.” Hawke was aware she was babbling and must sound like an idiot but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Fenris did not seem to feel as constrained. He never did. He always seemed to move past their arguments far easier than Hawke ever did. She always felt nervous and shy around him for days afterwards. She knew why but she didn’t like to think about it. That night or rather the way Fenris had left her that night was still a little bit of a sore spot. He however took her babbling and the blatant staring as encouragement and closed the gap between them until they were standing practically nose to nose. “So do you,” he replied, his voice pitched low and dark in the way that always made Hawke shiver and go a little weak at the knees. “Must we go to this wretched party?”
“Uh... no?” Hawke replied absently as she finished what Fenris had started, plastering herself to him and winding her arms around his neck. She blinked then shook her head fractionally as she remembered what she was doing. “Uh, I mean yes. Unfortunately. Champion stuff and all that sort of thing.”
Fenris growled low in his chest, something Hawke felt along her entire body, and then he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss but possessive and wild and passionate at the same time. Hawke had no idea how Fenris managed that but she liked it. She liked it a lot. She moaned her approval and pulled him even tighter against her.
“Are you sure?” he all but purred when they came up for air.
Hawke had no idea what he was asking for a long moment, her mind having been wiped clean of everything except the feeling of kissing Fenris.
“What?” She stared at him dumbly for a moment then she looked almost comically disappointed as she pulled back just enough to allow a breath of air between them. “Er, yes. I promised some of the nobles I’d support them and since they’re trying to pressure Meredith into getting her grubby hands off the Viscount’s throne and someone else into it, I have to go.”
Fenris raised an eyebrow and the faintest ghost of a smile curved the ends of his lips. “Then I shall have to accompany you. Stand decorously beside you. Whisper in your ear from time to time to tell you what I intend to do with you when the party is over.”
Hawke drew in a sharp breath at the mental image that created then grinned. “You do terrible things to my self control. I hope you know that.”
Fenrir released her then leaned in to growl softly in her ear, “Yes, I do.” He stepped away again, stopping at a decorous distance, and Hawke wavered for a moment before catching herself and miming a swipe at him.
“Come on,” she said with a gamine grin. “The sooner we get to the party, the sooner we can leave and you can do all those things you’re planning to do with me.”
Fenris stepped forward and offered his arm. “Very well then.”
Hawke laughed as she took his arm. Anticipation was thrumming through her and she suspected she was going to be very, very effective. Nothing made a person work more efficiently and effectively than a reward and it sounded like she had a truly excellent one waiting for her tonight.
Gifter: katling73
Giftee: phoenixblaze
Rating: G
Characters: F!Hawke/Fenris with a special guest appearance by Varric
Notes: This is based on my mage Marian Hawke and her epic but argumentative rivalmance with Fenris. It's set in Act 3 after Hawke and Fenris get back together and yes, Hawke is wildly optimistic at the end about her ability to sort things out in Kirkwall. She was like that... right up until Anders ruined all her plans.
Marian Hawke glared at herself in the mirror. There really wasn’t much to glare at, truth be told. The dress she was wearing fit spectacularly, showing off the figure usually hidden by her mage armour. Her makeup and hair were perfect courtesy of Oranna’s skilled and expert hands. She looked stunningly beautiful and not at all like the renegade apostate mage she actually was. She didn’t like it though. She didn’t feel like it was herself she was looking at in the mirror. There was a spark missing from her eyes and she knew it. She’d bought this dress because she knew a certain elf would appreciate it and he wasn’t here to do that.
“Be still my beating heart.”
Hawke whirled around to find Varric leaning in the doorway, a wicked and appreciative grin on his face. He was dressed up to the nines as well, his customary coat nowhere to be seen. Marian took a moment to mourn the lack of chest hair on display. Her heart might belong to a broody elf but she could still appreciate the qualities of Varric’s ample display of manly... or rather dwarfly... chest hair.
“Bianca will get jealous if you keep looking at me like that,” she said tartly as she turned back to the mirror and frowned ferociously.
“Bianca knows I’m a one crossbow dwarf,” Varric replied. He walked into the room and slouched down into a chair by the fire. “So why the big scowl, Hawke? It certainly doesn’t go with the dress and the fancy hair do.”
“Why do I have to wear this get up?” she said, her tone somewhere between grumpy and plaintive. “I was invited as the Champion of Kirkwall. Can’t I go in fancy armour or something?”
“If you did, half the guests would have a fit of the vapours and the other half would faint... after having a fit of the vapours.” Varric paused and grinned again. “So I say go for it. It would certainly make the party more interesting.” He cocked his head slightly. “Speaking of the party being interesting, how come you begged me to come with you instead of taking Broody with? You’d make a spectacular pair and you two are practically attached at the hip these days. Think of the stories I could make up... er, tell about that.”
“I didn’t beg you to come with me,” Hawke said indignantly, striding over to her dresser and going through her jewellery to find a necklace that would go with her dress. She should probably ask Oranna to pick one for her. The former slave had much better taste and fashion sense than she did though Hawke wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to know how Oranna had learned it.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Varric sounded curious and Marian could almost picture his expression - artfully disinterested but with a spark of curiosity in his eyes that meant he wasn’t going to let this go easily. She turned around and yes, she was absolutely correct. She could hold out and be pestered for the rest of the night or give in and just tell him.
“Fenris refused,” she said with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped and an expression of misery crossed her face. “Said he wasn’t going to a party to be sneered at and treated like the hired help. I said that if he dressed properly in the clothes I’d bought him, no one would ever think he was the hired help. We... might have had a bit of an argument about it from there.”
Varric looked amused. “You two have arguments about everything, Hawke. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to put up with each other when you can’t even agree on the smallest things. Also I thought you’d have known better than to buy him things. You know how he gets.”
“It’s part of our charm,” Hawke said with wan humour. “And, well... yes. But the outfit matched mine and we’d look amazing together and, well...”
“It’s part of something,” Varric muttered before continuing in a more normal tone of voice. “So I was your back up plan? I’m honoured to rate that highly though if I’d known what you were up to fashion-wise, I’d have bought a shirt that matched your dress. Or you could have roped Sebastian into this. His shiny white armour goes with everything.”
“You do not need a back up plan.”
Both Varric and Hawke yelped at the low growl that came from the doorway. They turned to find Fenris standing there with a fierce frown on his face and in clothes that were most definitely not his usual armour. Even his sword was absent and the clothes were well made and more than a match for what Hawke was wearing. In fact, Varric noted absently, they matched and contrasted with Hawke’s outfit perfectly. They had to have been chosen by the tailor and the dressmaker working in tandem because there was no way Hawke’s fashion sense… or lack thereof… could have done such a good job.
“Fenris!” Hawke’s voice was a little strangled and the look on her face was a mix of surprise, admiration and a tiny bit of lust. “I... what... it’s you. You look...”
Varric snorted with suppressed laughter and headed for the door. “Eloquent, Hawke. Very eloquent. I think I’ll leave you two kids to sort this out on your own. Not that the discussion you’re about to have won’t be fascinating but I think it might make Bianca cross with me if I stay and watch.”
The dwarf edged his way past Fenris and if smothered laughter floated back into the bedroom, neither Hawke nor Fenris paid it any attention.
“You’re here,” she said a little inanely. “And... you’re... dressed in the things... I thought you said no.”
Fenrir took a few steps into the bedroom and Hawke noticed he was even wearing the pair of soft ankle boots the tailor had sent along. It was the first time she’d ever seen him wearing shoes of any description. She had no idea why she was noticing such an unimportant detail except that it seemed oddly important for some reason.
“I... changed my mind.” The frown had faded and had been replaced with an expression Hawke was familiar with and was coming to dislike. That uncertain hesitation that meant Fenris was out of his depth in a social situation and was afraid of offending Hawke in some way. She didn’t know how to tell him that he’d have to work damn hard to offend her given she even managed not to get put off by his frequent anti-mage rants and she really didn’t know how to tell him that she’d help him get back into his depth if he’d just let her.
“Oh! That’s... good. That’s really good and… and you look really good too.” Hawke was aware she was babbling and must sound like an idiot but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Fenris did not seem to feel as constrained. He never did. He always seemed to move past their arguments far easier than Hawke ever did. She always felt nervous and shy around him for days afterwards. She knew why but she didn’t like to think about it. That night or rather the way Fenris had left her that night was still a little bit of a sore spot. He however took her babbling and the blatant staring as encouragement and closed the gap between them until they were standing practically nose to nose. “So do you,” he replied, his voice pitched low and dark in the way that always made Hawke shiver and go a little weak at the knees. “Must we go to this wretched party?”
“Uh... no?” Hawke replied absently as she finished what Fenris had started, plastering herself to him and winding her arms around his neck. She blinked then shook her head fractionally as she remembered what she was doing. “Uh, I mean yes. Unfortunately. Champion stuff and all that sort of thing.”
Fenris growled low in his chest, something Hawke felt along her entire body, and then he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss but possessive and wild and passionate at the same time. Hawke had no idea how Fenris managed that but she liked it. She liked it a lot. She moaned her approval and pulled him even tighter against her.
“Are you sure?” he all but purred when they came up for air.
Hawke had no idea what he was asking for a long moment, her mind having been wiped clean of everything except the feeling of kissing Fenris.
“What?” She stared at him dumbly for a moment then she looked almost comically disappointed as she pulled back just enough to allow a breath of air between them. “Er, yes. I promised some of the nobles I’d support them and since they’re trying to pressure Meredith into getting her grubby hands off the Viscount’s throne and someone else into it, I have to go.”
Fenris raised an eyebrow and the faintest ghost of a smile curved the ends of his lips. “Then I shall have to accompany you. Stand decorously beside you. Whisper in your ear from time to time to tell you what I intend to do with you when the party is over.”
Hawke drew in a sharp breath at the mental image that created then grinned. “You do terrible things to my self control. I hope you know that.”
Fenrir released her then leaned in to growl softly in her ear, “Yes, I do.” He stepped away again, stopping at a decorous distance, and Hawke wavered for a moment before catching herself and miming a swipe at him.
“Come on,” she said with a gamine grin. “The sooner we get to the party, the sooner we can leave and you can do all those things you’re planning to do with me.”
Fenris stepped forward and offered his arm. “Very well then.”
Hawke laughed as she took his arm. Anticipation was thrumming through her and she suspected she was going to be very, very effective. Nothing made a person work more efficiently and effectively than a reward and it sounded like she had a truly excellent one waiting for her tonight.