A/N: Rated M for language and smexy times. Innocents, avert thy eyes. M!/Isabela.
For Crisium, because, to say that Isabela isn't magical is "lies and slander". I stand corrected and have you to thank.
The normally thoughtful Hawke fouls up royally while showing off for Varric at Isabela's expense. Varric saves the day, Hawke redeems himself, and Isabela wins in the end.
Update: FF was dropping my crammed together Isabela-speak. Should be fixed now.
Update 2: Tweaking dialogue, punctuation, etc. Chapter 3 also has added nuances. I like it better; hope you do too.
"Corff,HowmanyhaveIhad?" Isabela asked the bar keep.
He put the glass he been drying into a cubbyhole behind the bar. "That's your seventh," he replied with a raised brow, then continued to himself, "By this point, you're usually falling off the table you were dancing on..."
Isabela huffed a sigh, finished her drink ("HowdidIdothatsoquickly?"), then turned ("Ugh,Badidea.") toward her apartment in the Hanged Man. Stumbling, she inadvertently shoved her breasts into the faces of three men, a woman, and the tavern mabari, yet navigated the crowded tavern in record time. With the stairs in sight, she accidentally knocked into Norah (who, in turn, spilled a tray full of drinks on a patron's head). "This'dbefunifIweren'tsodizzy," the pirate thought as she unintentionally sprinted up the stairs, "Well,exceptforthepervertdog ."
"You 'ver see darkspaw' in Fereld-?"
Isabela's feet stopped before the rest of her did. The talkative twit had the gall to nuzzle her mabari-licked breasts before she could scramble off of him. "Getoutofmyway!" she shrieked, her liquor threatening to leave the way it came.
...And then it did.
"Ugh,sorry,Norah!" she called, then to herself, " Sorta,heh...Ow,myhead."
Varric stepped in her vomit as he exited his room. "Rivani! What the hell!"
"Sorry,Idon'tknowwhat'swrongwithmetoday!" she blurted.
He knew. The dwarf shook her puke from his boot. "Guess, I owe Hawke his sovereigns. How the hell is he been casting from Hightown?" he mused. "Come on, I'll help you to your room," he said, offering her his hand.
"Couldyoujustopenthedoor?" she asked, "Idon'twanttoshovemytitsintoyourfacetoo—Ineedabathasitis."
He had Hawke to thank for the view as she skittered down the hall on all fours. "I can help you undress too-"
"VARRIC!"
"Fine," he said, sauntering over. "I'll go get Hawke after I draw your bath."
"Believeitornot,Idon'twantsexrightnow,Varric," she muttered, miserably, "IneedAnders. Hmph,ifJusticewilllethimcome."
"...Hm...no, Rivani, you need Hawke. Trust me."
"Welp, you did it. When I left her, she was scrubbing puke out of her hair. At the rate she's going, she'll be bald by the time you get there." said Varric, strolling into Hawke's library.
Not fully hearing what his friend said, Hawke stopped casting, chuckled, and replied, "But it's not even time for Wicked Grace yet. ...Are you saying that you're conceding on our bet?"
"You should see her, Hawke. 'Wreck' doesn't cover it."
"Hm-hmm. I will. ...Have my gold?"
"Right here," as he dropped the pouch into Hawke's hand. Hawke, in turn, set the pouch on his desk among the empty lyrium bottles.
"You know I'll just win that back from you tonight."
"No, Varric, no Wicked Grace for me tonight," he said, waggling his brows.
Varric turned for the door and called, "Hey Hawke, out of curiosity, did you tell her about our little wager?"
"No. ...Why?"
"Rough day?" Hawke asked, leaning against the door frame.
Isabela's eyes slowly opened as she flopped her head in his direction. "Yes," she said simply.
With that, he felt a sharp pang in his gut that caused him to frown. "Varric wasn't kidding," he thought. Hawke crossed the room, pulled up a chair, and started to rub her shoulders with some intermittent healing magic. He wasn't Anders but he knew a thing or two. Her nipples rose above the surface of the steamy water with each stroke. He tried to not notice, shifting in his chair.
"I've been racing around like a maniac since I woke up this afternoon," she said, "It wasn't until a bit ago that I felt normal again. At least, I think this is normal..." Now she felt like she was moving through honey. She raised her arm and let the water dribble through her fingers.
Hawke felt really bad now. Showing off his magical prowess wasn't worth this.
"Bela...I have something to tell you..."
"Fine, ugh, just...help me out first."
She lifted herself up and got out, dripping. Hawke wrapped her in a towel and patted her dry, trying his damnedest to not be turned on.
"Would you like a poultice?" he asked.
"Yes, and you in my bed," she replied, grumpily.
"Shit," he thought. "Isa, about that," he said, reaching in his pack for the promised remedy.
She looked at him, crossly, "About what? I've had a terrible day and now you aren't going to bed me?"
"Isa, I...I won a bet."
"...Congratulations. What does that have to do with fucking me?" She downed the poultice like it was a shot and shook in response.
He squirmed. "Um...well. You probably aren't going to want to after I tell you what the wager was..."
It clicked; that little... "Hawke! What the fuck! How did you- how could you!"
"It was Haste! You like that one!"
He dodged her right hook but not the dagger she threw from her nightstand. Hawke pulled it out of his shoulder and healed himself as he ran out of the room.
"Keep running you asshole!" the pirate yelled from her home's entrance as her towel fell to her feet. Then, kicking the towel back inside, she slammed the door.
Update 3: For all Isabela fans, please know that this chapter *SUCKS* for her. But I promise it gets better.