They were finally headed back to the Hanged Man. They had spent a long day up the Wounded Coast, and Varric was aching and still had sand in his...everywhere. He was looking forward to a drink, a bath, and maybe a little quiet time spent cleaning Bianca.
Since re-entering the city, he had tried three times to engage Anders in conversation but was met with only terse responses.
Hawke and Fenris were some distance behind them, and Varric hadn't yet been able to eavesdrop without arousing suspicion. Their conversation would slow to a halt whenever he tried to linger. Their own business was their own business, true, but he needed the material, Maker damn them both. Also, he was nosy.
Up those last stairs, and the Hanged Man was in sight.
"Good to be home, eh, Blondie?" Varric said, glad the day was finally over. He turned to look at him and saw that Anders had stopped halfway up the stairs, gazing back at something. And...oh. Next to a market stall emptied out for the night, Fenris had Hawke pushed up against the wall. They were kissing, Hawke's hands tangled in the elf's hair.
Anders stared, mouth slightly open in...shock? Hurt?
Surely he'd known, Varric thought. Hawke and Fenris tried their best, but neither of them had any skill for subtlety.
"How..." Anders said, floundering. "Since when..." His shoulders slumped. "Ugh. Don't answer that. I don't want to know."
He kept watching them until Varric took him by the arm and led him the rest of the way up the steps.
"Come on, Blondie," he said gently, "I'll buy you a drink."