Brand new multi-chap fic! And it's a collaboration with Nebulad, who you should check out immediately ASAP. Of course since we love writing in a universe where both our Hawkes live and creating a gorgeous OT4, this is another one of those wacky polyamory fics. Consider this your formal warning (or joyful reassurance) that this will eventually end in an OT4. If you're curious about the way we set up these dynamics, there's actually a reference post on both my FF profile and Tumblr (ingredient-x) page alike (under the tag "the sacred ot4", if you were wondering).
Anyway, this particular fic was inspired by an article that was floating around the internet regarding a craigslist post. The post itself is copied almost word for word since it's so priceless. And yes, it's apparently a real thing that happened. Everything in this fic that happens otherwise is purely fictional. Of course.
Alright strap in friends. It's go time.
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Empty amber bottles wrapped in cheap sticky paper labels soaked through with the smell of beer cluttered around two polished empty wine bottles like a boozy flower crown on the trash-can full of greasy fast food bags. A couple fingers of brown fries clawed their way through the black mesh and seemed to waggle in the blue light of Rees' laptop screen. Fenris's arm was slung heavily around her shoulders. The nearly empty can of whipped cream was cold against the skin of her shoulder. She gestured something vague and he grunted, slapping the can into her palm.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she sprayed the last of the cream directly onto her tongue and swallowed thickly. A couple of the smaller braids tied back in an overlapping knot fell loose when she scratched at a spot behind her ear. She pushed them back gently, careful not to snap any of the strands. Bela and Fenris had both taken painstaking turns helping with each of the micro-braids. Bela had woven in little silver clasps and rings while Fenris had taken forever paying attention to the width and tightness of each woven strand. She didn't mind the fussing. It had been a nice change. Once each braid was sufficiently woven and decorated, Bela held a lighter to the tip as Fenris watched warily with a damp cloth in one hand and scissors in the other.
Most of the furniture in the room was either falling apart or actual cardboard boxes. Two old mattresses were slung on either side of the room. Rees' had a mountain of quilts and blankets. Fenris' had the bare minimum of one thin sheet and one nearly flat pillow. Beside each, they had their respective boxes full of whatever meager possessions they had rounded up over the course of one year. Needless to say, Fenris' box was nearly empty and Rees' was full of odd trinkets and scraps she 'might need'.
The floor was bare concrete, cracked in some places more deeply than others. Several bald light bulbs hung from the ceiling, dusty from disuse. There were no windows that didn't double as vents in the basement apartment. There were no walls in the tiny bland coloured space, save for the sectioned off toilet and shower. Even the kitchen was tacked on hastily to the far wall from the apartment entrance; a shabby stove and oven combo with a mini fridge plugged in on the counter. The apartment, as a whole experience, could be summed up easily as dismal.
Compared to their past experiences, the tiny apartment was a sanctuary. It didn't need bright flower vases or warm carpets to convince Rees that she was home. Her best friend did more than enough to fill the blank walls with little more than the glow from his tattoos. She felt his free hand feeling the ends of her braids habitually as he hummed and hawed over the words on the screen.
"It's a free meal." She offered blandly.
He nodded with more than a little sway. The wine in him was more obvious than he liked to reveal, so she didn't comment.
"Could end up being profitable." She said.
Fenris snorted. "I hardly think tipping is industry standard."
Rees shrugged. "No idea. Never had a gig like this."
He shifted and pulled away from where he leaned on her shoulder. Wide knuckles and a rough palm covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. "Technically you still don't."
She scowled and brought the can of whipped cream to her mouth again, only remembering at the sharp hiss that it was empty. She tossed it at the waste bin where it bounced off the bottles with a clink and fell to the floor alongside other odds and ends. She scrunched her nose up.
"It's not a bad idea."
Fenris deigned not to respond.
"It isn't." She insisted. "Say they're impressed, right? Offer me a job-"
"A job?"
"Yeah. A steady job and-" He outright laughed, earning him a light twack to the gut. Rees continued, "Listen. It's better than doing nothing. And it's a free meal. Free."
"At the low cost of your dignity." He added.
Rees grinned at that. "What's dignity matter if you're broke? I'm not going to have Aveline drag my ass back to county just 'cause I didn't fuckin' make connections, Fen."
Fenris' mouth drew thin and he looked away from her face. He pushed the messy white hair from his eyes and tried to refocus on the document open on the laptop screen. The flush in his cheeks was obvious against his skin, especially next to the soft glow of the lyrium tattoos. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He pointedly pretended not to notice her gaze. Rees huffed.
"You worry too much. It was just one year."
"It was an unnecessary measure." He snapped, still refusing to look at her.
"Completely necessary," She said firmly. "Change the topic."
His eyes were on her in an instant. She wanted to keep the gaze until he looked away but exhaustion caught up with her first. Rees fell back onto the floor in a collapsed heap. He moved his torso out of the way but still caught her head on the thick of his thighs. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. "Is this really a bad idea, Fen?"
The elf looked at the computer screen again. His hands reached over her to edit something and his fingers flew over the keys. His ears pressed low in concentration, the light from the screen making his features seem sharper. She watched him from where she lay, on hand lazily drawing circles on her own stomach. He sat back after a second and motioned for her to review the changes. Rees placed her palms behind her head and heaved herself forward to read. He placed a steadying arm behind her.
"It's perfect." She grinned.
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Posted by: A Potential Friend
It's Thanksgiving. Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how youre still single? About how your parents really want more grand children? Well, look no further!
I am a 25 year old convicted felon with no formal education, braids down to my waist and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if I bathe. I'm half Tal-Vashoth, but could easily pass as full Qunari. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you to torment your family, I'm game.
I can do these things at your request:
- Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don't notice.
- Start invasive discussions about politics and/or religion.
- Propose to you in front of everyone.
- Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on.
- Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.
I require $25 in pay and the free meal i will receive as a guest! Potentially open to future hirings as well.
Reply . . . . . . Mark As Spam . . . . . . Flag for Inappropriate Content
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Honestly Luca Hawke was a little insulted that she hadn't thought of this idea earlier.
Granted, she didn't have the credentials of this particular anonymous poster. Not like she was going to ask for a criminal record as proof. To be frank, she mostly was getting a kick out of the idea of a Tal-Vashoth date punching Uncle Gamlen square in the jaw.
"Sweetheart," Her mother's voice poured in from the kitchen. "Are you bringing anyone to Thanksgiving this year?"
Luca's finger had been hovering over the reply hyperlink as a joke but that passive prod had her click faster than any form of self motivation could.
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Reply To: A Potential Friend
From: LSHawke
I'll pay you $50 to do all of the above.
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