Inebriated
The air in Lowtown carried a dusty, smoky smell; a smell Aaron Hawke had tried his best to grow used to whilst staying with his uncle. Yet the smell of Ferelden, more particularly Lothering, had always clung to him like a shroud. The smell of grass, mud, nature,… even the mabari hounds non-Fereldans always made fun of – the smell of home. Hawke always became nostalgic when he reminisced of home.
He wasn't going to let that drag him down, however. Earlier that week he had secured his mother's birth house back from the slavers and today they had finally settled in. This meant not only a new start for Hawke, but for his mother as well. She could finally catch her breath after losing one child to darkspawn and the other to the templars. After spending the entire week shopping for furniture, decorating the house and cleaning out what the slavers left behind, Hawke was finally ready to sit down, and enjoy a drink. Or several drinks.
He increased his step as he rounded a corner. The sky overhead was already dark, and Hawke couldn't wait to be in the warm embrace of The Hanged Man. Hawke briskly ascended a few steps and smiled as he saw the ever-familiar sign of the pub. A few more seconds, and his hands would be closed around a pint of ale; the bitter, cold liquid working its way down his throat. He pushed the heavy wooden door open, and was immediately greeted by music, buzzing voices and the familiar smell of alcohol. Hawke gazed across the room, noticing several familiar faces. He nodded and waved at the people he knew, as he made his way to his precious dwarven friend.
Varic was sitting in front of the fire, drink in hand, talking and making gestures at a group of bystanders. Hawke just chuckled and smiled as he realized Varic was most likely telling the tale of the Deeproads again.
"And then a dragon swoops down out of nowhere. The thing must have been the size of a castle!" Whilst saying this, Varic waved his hands around in such a way that some of his ale splashed on the floor. The bystanders made a loud 'ooh' noise, and Varic continued, "of course this monstrosity was no match for Hawke and I… Well, talking about Hawke, look what the cat dragged in."
The bystanders turned around, and greeted Hawke by shaking his hand or slapping his back. Some of the patrons who had become acquainted with Lady Alcohol a bit more even tried to hug him. Varic made his way through the heavy crowd around Hawke, and shoved a pint of ale in his hands.
"Tonight we're celebrating, right?" Varic asked, raising his pint.
"We definitely are," Hawke answered, doing the exact same thing.
Their pints clinked together and the two men gulped down the contents.
The rest of the evening was spent doing very much the same thing. Toasts would be made, jokes would be told, laughter would be shared and secrets would be spilled. Drink after drink flowed down Hawke's throat, until every patron was a friend and every woman looked like a goddess.
Somewhere along the night, Anders made an appearance in The Hanged Man as well. Although the mage normally did not like to leave his clinic, he decided to spend this night differently. But when he entered the pub, and saw Hawke standing on the table giving his best impression of the Arishok, he almost reconsidered. Beer sloshed on Hawke's clothes as he stammered out a few words of the Qun. Varic was still sitting near the fireplace, not even trying to conceal his laughter. When Anders joined the dwarf, a very concerned expression was visible on his face.
"Lighten up, Blondie," Varic said, taking a few swigs of his drink.
"How much has he had to drink?" He asked, as Hawke nearly fell off the table. Laughter spread out across the room.
"I lost count to be honest," Varic said, "Hawke sure knows how to put them away."
"Someone should look after him," Anders said.
"I agree, I also think that someone should be you."
"Me?! Why me?" Anders tried his best not to blush.
"You're stone-cold sober, also you're a mage," Varic pointed out, "if Hawke takes a stumble throughout the night, you're right there to fix him up."
"It's not really the stumbling I'm worried about," Anders muttered, but Varic was no longer paying attention to him.
"What's he doing now?" Isabella said, as she joined the two men round the fireplace.
"I think he's trying to imitate an ogre," Varic said.
"I like Hawke," Isabella said, "he knows exactly how to lighten up the evening."
"By imitating darkspawn?" Varic asked.
"Not exactly," Isabella smirked seductively, and treaded over to the man-become-darkspawn.
"Hello there, Hawke," she said, in her most alluring voice. Several eyes turned to her with lust.
But not Hawke, Hawke was quite content with his place on the table. He took another swig of his drink, and waved the pint around.
"Another please!" he shouted, for anyone to hear.
A few patrons cheered, and soon enough another drink was placed in Hawke's hands.
"Hello Hawke," Isabella said a bit louder, but Hawke had no ears for her, as he was telling the tale of the witch of the wilds, which made the patrons laugh with disbelief.
Isabella grunted and retreated back to the fireplace.
"Don't say a word," she said to Varic as she took his drink away from him and finished it in one gulp, "perhaps I should find someone less… intoxicated."
"Honestly her tits were huge!" Hawke shouted, which started another roar of laughter. He swung his head back to finish his drink, misplaced his feet and fell straight off the table. Some of the patrons were trying their best not to piss their breeches.
Anders walked over to Hawke and got him to his feet.
"Anders!" Hawke slurred, hugging the blonde mage, "I didn't know y-you were here!"
"I just arrived," Anders said, trying to keep Hawke on his feet.
"Then you should get a drink," Hawke said, "A DRINK FOR MY FRIEND!"
"No, no Hawke, I don't want a drink," Anders said.
Hawke looked at him in a very confused way. How could someone not want to drink?
"Then maybe it was me who wanted the drink…" Hawke muttered, "A DRINK FOR ME!"
"No Hawke, I think you've had quite enough to drink," Anders said, "let's try and get you home before you injure yourself."
"But I don't want to go home, I want to stay here, with my friends!" He shouted out the last part of the sentence, which was very effective in making the entire pub cheer for him.
"You can visit your friends again tomorrow, I think it's best we get you to bed now," Anders said, he waved to Varic who lifted his pint, grinning. Then Anders slung one of Hawke's arms over his shoulders and helped him walk out of the joint.
The cool night breeze was a welcome change from the warm, sweaty air inside the Hanged Man. Anders sighed deeply and looked at Hawke.
"Are you fit to walk yourself?" he asked.
"Don't be ridiculous, I am great at walking," Hawke said, pulling himself away from Anders, and stumbling towards the ground, "Ahh, ground, my ancient nemesis."
Anders pulled him up again before he managed to stab the ground with his hidden dagger, and slung Hawke's arm across his shoulders.
"I guess we'll just do it like this, then," Anders said.
"Oh yeah, you like doing it like this, huh?" Hawke said.
Anders chose to ignore that comment, but he could not help the slight blush that tinged his cheeks. They made their way through the Lowtown streets. Anders kept praying they would not be ambushed by bandits in the dark alleyways. After rounding a few corners, Hawke suddenly stood still. It was impossible to budge him.
"What is it now?" Anders said, getting rather annoyed.
"I have to pee," Hawke said.
"So pee!" Anders said.
The words had just left his mouth and Hawke started to fumble with his laces. It proved impossible for the drunk Hawke to work out how his trousers were to be undone, however. Anders sighed and cursed the maker, as he helped his friend undo his pants. Before long Hawke was relieving himself. Anders tried his best to look away, but he couldn't help sneak a few glances.
It's so big, he thought. Embarrassment took him quickly, and he was glad the dark hid his beet red face.
"You know what Anders?" Hawke asked, suddenly.
"W-what?" Anders said, still averting his eyes.
"You're my mage friend," Hawke stated, wobbly on his legs.
"I… What?"
"Yeah, you're a mage, I'm a mage. We should do more mage stuff!" Hawke exclaimed, "we should start a fire."
"We really shouldn't, Hawke," Anders said, gravely.
"Well of course not now, I'm holding my dick," Hawke said, "See?"
"Yes, Hawke, I noticed," Anders said, turning more red than he thought possible.
"Well let's go do mage things," Hawke said after he finished relieving himself.
"This is not a good idea," Anders muttered.
"Last one to the gallows is knight-commander Meredith!" Hawke shouted, and ran away.
Drunken Hawke was surprisingly fast, even though he needed Anders to support him only a moment before. Laughter bounced off the dusty Lowtown houses as Anders chased after a drunken Hawke, slaloming through the dark streets.
Passersby were looking at them with murder written across their faces as Anders waved at them apologetically and Hawke pushed them out of the way. They had almost made it to the docks when Hawke suddenly took a dive. He rolled through the dust for several feet, when he finally made a stop he was laying dead-still on the ground.
"Hawke!" Anders shouted.
When he reached Hawke he noticed Hawke was shivering. Oh god, what's wrong now? Anders thought, about to inspect Hawke's body. He rolled Hawke on his back, and saw that the cause of shivering was the laughter Hawke was trying to hold in. When he noticed Anders face the laughter burst past his lips. Saliva spattered on Anders face as he tried to figure out what was so funny.
"You w-were, you were," Hawke tried to say, the laughter intervening with his words.
"I was what, Hawke?" Anders asked, clearly not amused.
"You were so scared I was being s-serious!" Hawke said, turning red with laughter.
"Let's go do mage stuff," Hawke said, mimicking what he said earlier, "No, that's a bad idea, Hawke. Bad Hawke! Hahaha!"
"You're an asshole when you're drunk," Anders said bemused, yet relieved that Hawke had been joking.
"Please, I'm an asshole always," Hawke said, getting on his feet. This was obviously a much too big task for someone as drunk as he was, as he faltered and fell.
"Why is the ground so wobbly?" Hawke asked.
"Because you've had too much to drink," Anders replied, trying to get Hawke on his feet again.
"I'm sorry Mother, I'll try to behave next time," Hawke said, pushing Anders away.
It took him quite a few minutes to regain his balance on the 'wobbly ground', and even then Hawke needed Anders to support him. After much coaxing from Anders they decided to make their way to Hawke's mansion in Hightown. There was a lot of laughing, stumbling and falling on Hawke's part, and Anders knew his shoulder was going to be stiff in the morning, but they finally made it to the mansion.
Hawke fumbled with the key to the front door, and in the end it was Anders who had to open the door. He shushed Hawke, as they stepped inside. Hawke mimicked him, effectively drenching Anders face in saliva once more.
"Let's just get you to bed," Anders said, as they entered the large entrance hall.
"But I want to party some more," Hawke said.
"You can't, you have to sleep now," Anders said.
"I'll only sleep if you sleep next to me," a dark sheen appearing in Hawke's eyes.
"W-what?" Anders had to try his best not to sound too loud.
"Yeah Anders, sleep with me," Hawke said, trying his best to sound seductively, which was ineffective as he could not seem to hold his balance.
"You're being ridiculous," Anders said, "and drunk… very drunk."
"Your face is ridiculous!" Hawke pointed out, a bit too loud.
"Hawke, shut up, you'll wake your mother," Anders shushed.
"Your face will wake my mother!" Hawke retorted brilliantly.
Anders just sighed and lead Hawke to the bedroom. He helped him strip down his clothes and put him to bed, all the while a blush featuring his face.
"Why are you so red?" Hawke asked him, as Anders pulled the sheets over him.
"I'm very warm," Anders lied.
"I think you've got the hots for me," Hawke said, "don't think I don't notice. I might be drunk but I'm not blind."
"Don't be stupid," Anders said, "we're both men."
"So?" Hawke asked, as he took Anders hands and gave a sharp tug on them. Now it was Anders's turn to lose his balance, as he tumbled on Hawke's king-sized bed.
"Hawke, this is ridiculous we ca-"
But before Anders managed to finish his sentence, Hawke's lips had found him. For a moment Anders was lost in what seemed pure bliss as their lips got acquainted to each other. But then sanity returned to him and he pushed Hawke away.
"Maker's breath, what do you think you're doing?" Anders whispered, hoping no one would suddenly walk in on this scene.
"I'm kissing you," Hawke said, "And I will do it again."
He made his words true as he pulled Anders towards him again. Even though Anders struggled, it wasn't long before he gave in. Their lips met again, this time more passionate and lustful. Hawke licked Anders bottom lip, and Anders gave him entrance. Their tongues battled for a while, exploring each other's mouths. Though Anders' mind had been racing only a few minutes before, his thoughts had very much come to an end, and instinct took over. His hands roamed over Hawke's back, caressing every inch of his body. Whereas Hawke's hands found their way to the front of Anders' breeches and started to undo the laces.
Struggling commenced and finally they were free from those confining clothes. Locked in a deep embrace Anders' lips found Hawke's neck and started kissing, sucking, licking and biting. Hawke squirmed underneath him, releasing soft moans once in a while. Their hands traced each other's bodies until they became well versed in what the other liked and disliked. They writhed on top of the sheets, yet even so a thin layer of sweat was soon covering their skin. In this moment of passion Hawke sobered up and pressed himself into Anders' body. Anders fingernails scratching and tearing at Hawke's back as the pleasure of Hawke's movements reached his inner core. They gave each other up to their temptations over and over again until, finally, their momentum released into a pleasurable climax signifying the end of their lovemaking.
As Hawke breathed heavily into the crook of Anders' neck, Anders couldn't help but feel blessed that Varic was the one to suggest him to take Hawke home for the night. As they lay there, their bodies still intertwined with each other, Anders felt at peace – a sensation Anders had nearly forgotten. Peace.
That is, until Hawke threw up.
"Ahh, Lady Alcohol is a harsh mistress," Hawke mused as Anders was cleaning up his mess.
"Lord Hangover is even worse," Anders retorted.
As they ultimately settled down to go to sleep, and Hawke was snoring loudly beside him, Anders mulled over the previous night's happenings over and over in his head. Even if Hawke had been in such an inebriated state; he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.