bakerstreet | ( heathcliff, it's me, your cathy, i've come home

Hawke had come to him some time ago and suggested that they take some time for themselves. A weekend away, she'd suggested, or maybe a weekend in. He'd smirked and made some comment about how he'd be in no matter where they were, and she'd smirked and playfully hip checked him.

Still, the weekend somewhere eventually came. Hawke had insisted on keeping it a surprise, so he'd packed...... some semblance of stuff. Or at least, what stuff he had that hadn't already moved over to Hawke's place. It seemed that at least half of his belongings were in the Hawke estate these days, including most of his writing and the setup of his desk.

When he'd showed up at her place and found her unpacked and wearing something excitingly trashy, he had lunged into the mansion dick-first and nearly leaped into bed. However, after a nice dinner and some making out, Hawke had done something rather odd- she'd told Bodahn and Sandal to leave. Maker's breath, what kind of sex shenanigans did she have in mind, if she needed the whole flaming house to do it? Then there was the look on her face, which kept making him wonder if he'd gotten in over his head.

Andraste's tits, he loved it.

Hawke had a plan. That was usually not a good thing, but there had to be exceptions sometimes. She looked smug as hell, and felt it. She'd been organized. Getting the servants out of the house for a holiday (which they certainly deserved). Buying a few useful tools. Buying a new dress, even, assuming you could call this assortment of red fabric and lace a dress as opposed to an artfully assembled bunch of strips of cloth strategically placed. Isabela had been only too happy to help her find something appropriately inappropriate.

Worth it to see Varric's expression when he'd seen her. She'd have a portrait painted if she thought anyone could capture it.

Or maybe not. Some things are better kept to yourself.

Speaking of which, they have the house to themselves and are sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, her sideways with her legs resting on his lap, each of them holding a glass of red wine. Hawke takes another sip and looks at him over the rim. "So, I found something interesting in my room the other day that I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He glances at her, then does a very tiny double-take. There's that look again, the one that says he's in over his head. Not to be out-nonchalanted, Varric takes a sip of (really quite good) wine and meets her eyes blithely.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Hawke is of the opinion that it's good for Varric to be in over his head once in a while, all short dwarf jokes aside. It happens so rarely.

"Oh, nothing much, just a bunch of papers. A few books. A lot of drawings." She takes another sip, watching for his reactions. "I knew about the buxom dwarven barmaid fetish. The vampiric enchantress with a sex slave was a surprise."

The casual way he swirls the wine in his glass doesn't quite match the determined way he looks at his wine, absolutely, positively sure that whatever she's about to say is gonna be a load. When she starts talking about drawings, he starts gearing up a clever, witty apology for leaving porn in her room. A sip of wine gives him time to think.

Until he fucking chokes on it. "The- shit."

She looks at him with an expression of wide-eyed innocence, the one that's not in the least convincing. Not even Merrill would be fooled by it. "Oh? You don't like that one? I had the impression it was your favorite. It certainly looks like it's been read the most often. Some pages were even dog-eared."

There aren't very many things in this world capable of embarrassing him, but this hits on a lot of them. Acting like a damn fool (bringing porn to his girlfriend's house and leaving it there), his various sexual fantasies that are more than a little hilarious coming from a rich, powerful man like himself, and being caught off-guard.

It takes a Herculean effort to attempt some semblance of dignity, despite the wine up his nose, and reply, "So I have a favorite book. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"There was, in fact." Hawke reaches behind her and puts her glass of wine on a table, and retrieves a small wrapped box. "I got you a present."

And with that she hands it to him. An actual present. It's wrapped and everything. There's even a bow.

Varric takes the present, a little nonplussed but hiding it well with a dramatic little gasp. "Well gosh, Hawke, there's even a bow." He looks like he might just swoon. "I feel like the prettiest girl in Hightown."

It turns out to be a.... ring of some kind. His first thought is a cocking ring, but it's the wrong size and what the fuck does Hawke even know about crossbows, anyway? He picks it up and examines it. Whatever it is, it's obviously enchanted- he can see the runework. The look Varric gives her is a distinct 'da fuck?' look.

"It's beautiful, Marian. Mind telling me what the fuck it is?"

"You are the prettiest girl in Hightown," she says affectionately, grinning as he opens it. This is going to be so much fun, and he has no idea, as evidenced by his expression.

"I think," she drawls, getting to her feet and delicately plucking the mysterious present from his fingers. "That it might be easier to show you. But first I'm going to need you to take off all your clothes."

That sets some gears turning in his head; he looks from the ring to her and back again, thinking hard, until finally it occurs to him.

Wait, really?

"Is that what I think it is?" he asks somewhat incredulously. Not that he's never heard of one before, but it's... fancy. It's enchanted. Why the shit would it be enchanted?

"Well, if you're thinking it's a shiny new belt buckle, you're wrong," Hawke says dryly. "But if you're thinking it's a cock ring, then yes."

She plays with it, twisting it and looping it around. "Here's my proposal. For tonight, you wear this and we experiment a little and see how it goes. This little beauty has a number of interesting properties I'm very curious to explore. A few were demonstrated to me when I bought it." Before he can even say it, she gives him a look. "Not like that."

"Maker's breath, I hope not. I don't think Blondie has enough healing for that." Despite his snark, Varric's mouth goes a little dry as he stares at it. And her. His nugshit-crazy woman.

Properties. Interesting properties. He wonders what they are, wonders how many hours it'll take him to discover them all, and realizes that she suggested wearing a cock ring for the entire damned night. Which, he won't lie, is both appalling and intriguing. If she's seriously suggesting wearing it for hours, then the dwarf thinks he can guess what at least one of the enchantments is.

He runs a hand through his hair, making an attempt at his normal nonchalant tone. "This, uh, wouldn't by any chance be related to my choice of reading material, would it?"

A casual question. So he knows just how extremely screwed he is.

As if Hawke would even consider risking Varric's intimate areas. She benefits from that cock.

The question only makes her smirk more. "That's tomorrow's game, assuming tonight goes well. Unless you want to start early."

He tips his head in a ~charming little hat-doffing gesture that's only mildly hindered by his lack of an actual hat. "Whatever the lady commands."

Of course, Varric's usual wording is 'whatever the lady desires', so his phrasing might give him away a little. As does the way his jaw clenches a little when she suggests starting early.

Hawke is observant. Her smirk turns downright wicked. "In that case...we need a safeword. Two, ideally, one for pausing things and another for 'get this motherfucking thing off of me right now.' Just in case. I nominate 'poppy' and 'poppycock', respectively." Because she's terrible.

At that, he cracks a real smile.

"How about 'Meredith' and 'Orsino'?"

She laughs, but shakes her head. "No, we actually do talk about them. It's vaguely possible we might have to discuss them over the weekend." She makes a face. "Maker forbid."

"Hawke," he says chidingly. "The day I start willingly talking about them is the day my dick is actually falling off."

The only exception being discussing creative death methods with Blondie. But they never actually need to say her name- just randomly suggest a painful method of expiry is enough to get the ball rolling.

He gives her a rogueish smirk.

Of course it's a roguish smirk. He doesn't have any other type of smirk. Hawke throws up her hands in surrender. "Fair enough, it's your dick. Do you want the rest of the rules before or after you've got this thing on?"

She's only going to ask your opinion much longer, Varric. Enjoy it while you can.

"That's alright, Hawke. Poppy and poppycock- you're the captain of this particular ship." In the face of her surrender Varric just laughs and inclines his head accommodatingly. As much as he likes the win, her safeword idea actually is much better.

"After sounds more fun." He realizes his time as a free man is running out, and the idea is really very intriguing. Rather than simply stripping, though, he leans in with a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her in for a kiss.

Hawke takes several minutes to enjoy the kiss, making a thorough job of it. She is looking forward to this, but it's nice to take a minute to just appreciate being Marian and Varric, before becoming...whoever they're going to be for this game.

"Love you," she murmurs against his mouth. She doesn't say it often, not so directly. But the amount of trust he's showing her means a good deal.

It is nice, and quiet, and more tense for the anticipation looming large. Those words, though, put a dorky little smile on his face, one that's a hair too sincere for his Clever Rogue image. His other hand comes up to touch her cheek lightly.

"Love you too, you goddamn lunatic," he answers fondly. As far as he's concerned, being two-thirds tease and one-third nutjob is entirely Marian, and "putting up with" absolute horseshit while secretly loving it is entirely Varric. The sheer audacity of it- yes, that's entirely Marian, too, even if it's not all of her. This game, as far as he's expecting, will probably be outrageous, but won't entirely be about pretending, or being someone else. Not completely, at least. And yes, he loves what a lunatic she is.

She laughs, kissing his nose ridiculously before pulling back. "You'd better, you ego-ridden dwarf. Now strip and let's get this thing on you."

Hawke | Dragon Age series | M/F

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surprise 2:30am tag

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