The Hissing Wastes were by far the worst place in all of Thedas. Hot, sticky, and full of sand during the day, icy cold and still full of sand at night. Setting up camp for the night had been a relief, and Varric wanted only to fall onto his sandy bedroll and sleep.
Of course, instead of sleep he was stuck staring at the canvas tent overhead, listening to the wind and animals howling out in the darkness. Probably they were annoyed with all the sand, as well. With a quiet groan, Varric rolled on his stomach and buried his face in his arms.
Sharp silver in the harsh light, red blood, the Seeker's lips drawn back from her teeth.
Nothing a potion hadn't cured. A new scar to keep the others company. Why that memory kept replaying was a goddamn irritating mystery. The thought equivalent of a stone in your boot.
Varric closed his eyes, and saw her profile instead. Beautiful, always so beautiful and out of his reach. Nothing to do but watch her back, teach her card games and trickery, any excuse to spend a few moments together. To memorize the curve of her nose, admire the beauty of her hands- elegant fingers, delicate wrists, light and shadow playing across them in the evening light while they play cards. It aches. It aches so badly, festers in his chest and there doesn't seem to be an end to it.
Heartsick. At his age. It was humiliating, and part of him hated it, hated himself for this foolish infatuation. With all the pain in the world, he had to bring himself more, loving a woman who didn't love him back.
He'd never been smart about women.
"Fuck it." Shoving himself upright, Varric pulled his tunic back on and left the tent for the chill desert air.
Silver white moonlight lit the dunes of the Hissing Wastes, and in its stark beauty there was a little peace to be found. There is something about the emptiness that echoes in Varric's chest.
"Varric?" He'd know her voice anywhere. The way she says his name makes his heart flutter.
"Seeker." Sometimes he forgets, calls her Cassandra. It's something he can't allow, it makes her more than her nickname. The line between Seeker and Cassandra is thin, but it's one he can't bear to cross too often.
They sit in silence. For once he hasn't anything smart to say, Cassandra is standing next to him, so close he can feel the heat of her body and the distance between them acutely.
"On patrol or do you just never sleep?" Varric asks, "If you say you just never sleep, I win a sovereign off Buttercup."
The Seeker stares down at him, and just barely smiles.
"I'll buy you a drink, if you do?" Varric wheedles, more from habit than anything else.
If he can pretend everything's normal, maybe it will be normal.
Cassandra gives him that unimpressed look of hers, but there's fondness behind it, and in the way she shakes her head and smiles when she thinks he's not looking.
"I do not sleep," Cassandra says.
The Seeker. Varric has to remind himself. Seeker. Not Cassandra.
"Hah! I owe you a drink, Seeker." Varric says. "Didn't know you could be bribed."
"It isn't untrue," the Seeker shrugs. "I do not sleep, right now."
Startled, Varric laughs. It's louder than he meant in the quiet of the sleeping camp.
"Perhaps we should walk? If you are not tired?" Seeker asks, and Varric can't think of anything else he'd rather do than walk in the moonlight with Cassandra. There are a thousand reasons why he shouldn't, and none of them matter.
They walk, sliding a little in the loose sand. The moon is huge in the sky, almost overwhelmingly so.
"It is almost close enough to touch." Cassandra says, and there is a little wonder in her voice.
Varric looks at the moon, and longs. He is no closer to touching the moon than he is to touching Cassandra's hand.
Cassandra's head is tilted back, the silver moonlight limns her features, brushes her skin and tangles in her hair.
Tearing his eyes from her, beautiful and fierce and untouchable, Varric sits and braces his back against a boulder. The stars are no less beautiful, no less distant, but at least he can look at them without feeling his heart twist.
Cassandra sits next to him, their arms touch and Varric can't bring himself to move.
"Seeker?" It's quiet, except for their breathing, and Varric can feel something in the air, something that pulls at him.
Sitting, they're much nearer to eye level than usual, and when Cassandra looks at him, Varric recognizes the expression on her face, the same expression he sees in the mirror every day.
It has to be wishful thinking.
Unbidden, his gaze slips to her mouth.
"Varric."
Cassandra's gloved hand brushes against his. Varric can feel his heart pounding in his chest, so loud Cassandra has to hear it, so loud she must be able to feel it, vibrating through the ground.
He can't look her in the eyes, focusing instead on her scarred cheek.
He can't look her in the eyes, except that he wants to. Wants to see if he was right, and doesn't. Suddenly it's too much, either way.
Their hands are still touching.
Varric darts a quick look at the Seeker, and is stuck. Undone.
"Cassandra."
Between one breath and the next, the space between them closes.
"You… you don't even like me." Varric says, plaintive. Cassandra's forehead rests against his, he can feel her hair, her breath a whisper against his skin.
"I could say the same thing, Varric." And it's true, she could. He's tried so hard to hide himself away. "Hopeless, isn't it?"
Her mouth is so close, Varric can't help but press a kiss against it.
"Entirely. A human-" Her mouth closes over his, hungry "and a dwarf?"
"A lying rogue, and a Seeker-" Varric interrupts her with another kiss, "Absolutely hopeless."
They kiss, messy and starving, hands touching, tangling, caressing.
The weight in Varric's chest lifts, he can breathe again for the first time in what feels like years. Every kiss, every touch is a gift, a blessing he can't possibly merit.
They're doomed, and Varric couldn't care less.