This chapter got so long I had to cut it. So now half of Chapter 2 is Chapter 3 though both were originally Chapter 1. This will probably be a running theme with me.

Thank you story alert people! Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside though a review would be helpful too. Doggy kisses to everyone.

Chapter 2: Blowing bubbles

Garrett Hawke fidgeted under the scrutinising glare that pierced the back of his skull. The pins and needles starting from the tips of his hair follicles had been going on for at least an hour by now and were beginning to make him unpleasantly itchy. Shifting one leg off and then over the other he tried to realign his body into something other than tense discomfort, on the splinter imbued chair he sat upon, and began shuffling the cards in his hand absentmindedly before fanning them out once again. This was a battle of life and death; the odds were stacked so high he didn't dare blink, though that could also be because his enemy sat across from him with ample bosom on display. No, no, soft, warm great pillows of tanned woman-hood couldn't distract him now. Tonight's entire bar tab rode on the play of cards he was about to spring on the bored looking pirate.

Aha! She's started playing with her earring. She's got nothing!He practically hummed with excitement and barely constrained a crow of orgasmic pleasure. But then, that burning, prickly sensation in the back of his head gave another set of unarguably disagreeable jabs. Hawke hissed a barely audible sound of displeasure before pivoting his neck so as to singe his enemy with a dry, formidable look teeming with hidden threats.

"Carver, stop it."

"Whatever do you mean, brother?" Carver's tone of hurt was mismatched with the embarrassment and general air of antipathy that swished menacingly across his eyes at being caught staring. His toned arms slipped easily into a defensive gesture across his chest as he averted his gaze to a comely looking bar wench passing by. "Is my presence putting you off? Maybe I should go back to Gamlen's shack and help mother stitch your pants."

"You aren't still crying about earlier are you?" Hawke rolled his eyes knowing all to well his younger sibling would probably be fuming over his morning dismal until the maker returned; like with every other little disappointment. "Someone had to keep an eye out for Gamlen's debt collectors. Or would you prefer a gang of depraved men swooshing down on mother, dragging her off by her hair and doing Maker knows what to her until Gamlen steps forward with the coin he owes?"

"No, of course not!" The younger Hawke spat angrily, enraged at the sheer gull of his older brother to even suggest such a thing. "I would never- Oh, Maker's balls. There's no point in arguing with you, brother. You don't need me around, why should you when you're everything mother and father could have wanted in a son. I'm just a spare. Stuck in your shadow until the day you die and I get to inherit it. Knowing my luck you'll probably out live me when I die from boredom or a fatal parchment cut."

"Oh, now you're just being melodramatic, junior." Varric waded into the conversation with cheery diplomatic swagger. "You'll get your chance to shine too someday."

"Someday? Someday! I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of this and I'm tired of you, brother." Carver abruptly turned on his heels and stomped from the Hanged man with such an aura of wrath the patrons parted around him like soil being ploughed. He even managed to audibly slam the un-slam-able front door, which caused several drunks to gasp awake.

"Hawke, I hope you don't mind me saying this but… that brother of yours," a steady unyielding voice topped with flaming auburn hair jutted forward with just a hint of mercy, "is a bit of a tit."

"Aveline," Garrett groaned into his mug only to find it aggravatingly bare of ale. "If my brother was any more of a tit he'd be my very buxom sister."

"As amusing as all that was," Isabela swanked a hand of defiance at the space Carver once occupied as if to signify the incident as some thousand year old battle nobody cared about anymore. "It's still your call, Hawke."
"Right, we were playing cards." Hawke's game face slipped perfectly back into place like a well-tailored glove.

"Winner gets their bar tab paid." Varric chimed in, as if anybody needed reminding of the stakes, and Aveline groaned longingly at being forced to fold before the game had even really started. "Don't worry, Aveline, I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"Wicked grace just isn't my kind of game. Never has been." The guardswoman shrugged off disappointment like a duck shirks water.

"Maybe next time we should have an arm wrestling contest." Aveline lit up at the notion before noting the cat like grin on Isabela's face as she continued. "Give ole man hands a chance to beat me just once."

"Whore."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm flattered, really." The dusky pirate fluttered her eyelashes, pursing her eager lips in a tempting display. "But my low standards are higher than you."

"Isabela!" Garrett cut through the violent intents of the two women with a precise incantation of his voice, somewhere between amused and disbelieving, causing eyes to focus on him in a bloodthirsty fashion. "Have you been cheating?"

"What? Me?" She acted out a believable overcoming of shock and hurt as Aveline slid back into her chair without having realised she'd ever left it. "And deceive a man as handsome as you out of his hard earned, if not mostly plundered, coin?"

"That card with the bended corner, that I know I saw in your hand before is now sitting on the top of the deck."

"The one with the beer stain that looks like Andraste's naughty bits?"

Everybody took a silent moment to study the beer stain more closely before a series of agreeing noises confirmed the pirate to be correct in her crude description.

"We need a new set of cards." Varric mused.

"The Chantry might view it as blasphemy if we dispose of cards with divine intervention." Aveline tapped a beat of indecision with forefinger to clasped mug.

"Maybe we should donate it to them, then."

"Andraste's naked form in ale? The grand cleric would faint."

"The grand cleric looking at dirty pictures, I'd pay to see that." Isabela practically vibrated at the iniquitous revelation; clerics gone wild.

"You obviously haven't been in the Chantry before." Hawke leaned forward, pausing to grab an eyeful of tanned cleavage and proceeded to wash the pirates mind with honey. "All those artistic nudes and tapestries of orgies."

"I might just have to become very, very devout." Isabela chewed her lip in deep contemplation. "I'm sure you could guide me to the light, Hawke."

"You want me to convert your sinful ways?" Garrett raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I don't know about that." She grinned; mischievous and alluring making him practically lose his breeches and reasoning skills with just a look. "But I could certainly use your help parting the veil."

"Right, I'm heading back to the barracks." Aveline abruptly stood up, a second scraping chair sounding as Varric moved to follow.

"I'll walk you to Hightown, I've got some contacts I need to…" The dwarf flailed a hand not even bothering to finish his dialogue.

Hawke and Isabela, having completely forgotten their card game were obviously not listening anyway and looked about ready to devour the table to reach one another. Without another word the juxtapose dwarf and guardswoman slid out into the night grateful for the sea breeze that purged their lungs of all that sexual tension they were previously suffocating from.

Varric hadn't been lying when he mentioned visiting some contacts. As they reached the Hightown market he bid the guardswoman goodnight and disappeared down a dimly lit street. The air was a little chilly, even up in the nobles well kept domain of the city, heralding the return of winter. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling his coat in a little tighter but vainly refusing to cover his ample chest hair. How could he be so cruel to deprive the world of such a sight?

Chuckling at his own musings he rounded another corner and disappeared from prying eyes inside an unlocked mansion.

"Hawke."

It was a terrible, painful sound that breeched his sore ears but one he recognised regretfully as his name.

"Hawke!"

This time his name came with an unpleasant shove; or was it a kick? His head felt like it had been filled with little angry Templar's all trying to get out and smite him at once. Not wanting to even open his eyes and see what foul beast was prodding and… was that the sound of a seabird over head? No, wait… yes there it was again and the slurping sound of the ocean washing up against ships in the dock. Oh, maker, where am I?

"HAWKE!"

"Ughhhnn!" Hawke groaned in response, though if his tongue didn't taste like puke, sand and cat arse it would have come out a little more coherently as 'bugger off'.

"You're awake. Good." The demonic voice sounded relieved. "I was worried for a moment I'd have to try and carry you home. Where are your clothes?"

"Where are my clothes?" He repeated trying to fathom out the meaning of the question and dared open his eyes only to wince and hiss them shut at the abomination of light beyond the safety of his lids. Now he thought about it, things did feel a little aired out and cold. Also, several something's were stabbing him viciously in the back and sides. "Where are my clothes?"

"I've found them. Well, some of them." That monstrous bane of his ears drifted away leaving him to enjoy the soothing slosh of the sea. Maybe he could sneak in some more sleep and-

"Oof!" Something heavy landed agonizingly on him, miraculously seeming to find every weak point he possessed. "My balls…"

Garrett squealed and whined like a pitiful pup, hands glued to his sensitive nether regions as he blinked the light into his eyes. He was truly naked, though pieces of his clothing now lay on his thighs and his staff… so that's what almost made him sterile. Running his teeth back and forth across his tongue he tried to clear some of the built up bacteria whilst scratching at the back of his head. It took some manoeuvring but he managed to perk himself up into a sitting position and ignored the screaming of his aching muscles in favour of finding that incessant voice from earlier.

"It's you!" He gritted out and began taking in stock of his situation.

"It's me." Aveline swallowed dryly and turned her back on him to give him privacy whilst getting his clothing back in place. "You're lucky I had solo patrol of the docks this morning. Anyone else and…"

"Big trouble, I get it. Thanks, Aveline."

"I assume you have a good reason for this."

"Oh yes, I just thought to myself last night, I'll get raging drunk at the hanged man, play a few rounds of cards, bed a pirate and wake up naked with my arse in the air on a dock tomorrow." Hawke rolled his eyes as he searched around the edges of crates for his missing boot. "All the pointing and laughing that group of dock workers are giving me was well worth it."

"I think they're catcalling as well."

"Not helping, Aveline. Ah-hah! There you are." He crowed in triumph having found his missing boot. "Maker my head hurts."

"Be thankful that's the worst of your problems." Her tone was neutral but her eyes were ablaze with scolding. "I can only keep you out of so much trouble, Hawke. You're like family to me but you need to start taking responsibility for your actions. That woman is nothing but trouble."

"Yes, mother." It was a very stupid thing to say whilst Aveline was in discipline mode but he found the quip too irresistible to ignore. It did, however, land him back on the floor nursing a swelling eye. "Andraste's tits, Aveline!"

"Get your act together, Hawke." She ground out his name in warning and turned back to her duties, following her designated route.

Garrett flopped down onto the ground, still clutching his swelling eye and huffed out an aggravated sound. He'd have to make it up to Aveline later, maybe buy the woman a drink or something sharp and pointy she could stab him with. For the moment he had different problems. Mother would be frantic, Carver would be happy by the prospect of his possible demise and Isabela… well; he needed to have some words with that naughty little strumpet.

Pushing his weight up off the floor, he stumbled back onto his feet and tried to shake the grog out of his ears. It was still early; barely a few hours past dawn and the docks were not yet at full capacity. At least his public indecency was kept to a minimum though the embarrassed flush caressing his neck and cheeks was still at an unbearable level. Using his staff as a walking stick, Hawke quickly scurried past the hysterical tirade of sailors and workers as he stumbled onwards to Lowtown. Rather than heading directly home, however, he ducked into the Hanged man needing an ale to help ease his hangover.

He knew Isabela was probably still asleep and neither of them would be coherent enough for anything beyond grunting at one another; though that could be fun. As he clutched at his mug of ale, sipping down the head with a murmur of deeply devoted approval, he pivoted on one foot and sauntered up stairs to stumble into Varric's room. At least the dwarf was always available for an indiscriminate visit.

"Hawke?" Varric looked up from his seat, having been reading off of some parchment he now folded and hid out of sight. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." He half fell into the seat next to his friend and took another long drink from his mug.

"Starting early I see."

"Technically I never went to bed, so..."

"That can't be healthy." Varric's brow rose with something a kin to amusement. "I see you got into a fight or was that a gift from our lovely pirate friend?"

"It was a gift from, Aveline." Hawke grimaced, placing his mug down as he touched his blackening eye with a hiss.

"I didn't know you and Aveline…"

"No! No! No!" He followed his outburst with a silence that allowed room for the most disturbing and on occasion head nod worthy images of the guardswoman to materialise in his minds eye before shaken away by a shudder of disapproval. "We're just friends. Friends that sometimes punch each other in the face."

"I thought as much. Not so much the face punching part." Varric blinked and his entire demeanour suddenly changed into an excited businessman about to offer his customer the greatest opportunity of his life. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you about some information I've dug up."

"Oh."

"Try not to sound too excited."

"Oh?" Hawke ventured again, trying to turn up the excitement in his voice.

"That's better." Varric settled down in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "I've found out there's a rogue warden living here in Kirkwall. According to my sources he came in with the Fereldan refugees and has been hiding down in Darktown."

"And? How does this help us?"

"He's a warden, a grey warden. They go down into the deeproads all the time. He should be able to tell us where all the good openings are."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric." Hawke slumped forward, cuddling into his ale like a child with a beloved teddy bear.
"And that, messere, is why I'm here." He paused, waiting to hear the sounds of snoring from his companion.

"…I hope you don't expect me to just wander around in Darktown all day getting my boots covered in Maker knows what."

"Of course not, Hawke." The dwarf feigned a magnificent display of disbelief, grinning all the while. "A Lowtown woman named, Lirene, has been helping the Fereldan's. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is."

"Hmmf." Garrett rumbled, creating a light quake to pass through the table.

"In the meantime, I've dug up some jobs to help get us that coin together."

"Hmm?"

"An influential member of the Hightown crowd has… had some letters of a sensitive nature stolen by a rival." Varric appeared bored of the job already. "Word is, however, that the group of thieves that stole the letters still have them. Holding out on the rival noble for more coin."

"Ah, can't trust a thief. When will the nobles learn?"

"Ha ha! That's what she said."

"She who?"

"My contact."

"Oh."

"Well, anyway, the thieves base is here in Lowtown. If we take care of this and bring the letters back the reward should be pretty good." Varric shrugged. "Might even get someone with influence in our debt. That's always useful."

"Tonight then. I need to sleep the raging inferno in my head off." Hawke braced his weight with shaky arms and pushed himself to standing. "We can see to the warden tomorrow, when I won't likely puke at the stench of Darktown."

"Fair enough, Hawke." Varric began pulling pieces of, earlier concealed, parchment out from their hiding place. "But Darktown tends to have that affect on even those with stomach's made of iron."

"Ughh." Hawke groaned as he passed through the door, closing it behind him and staggered down the stairs in a confused daze and out into the street.

His whole body felt like toothpicks and gelatine. By the way his stomach churned he was pretty sure a demon had conjured itself inside and was now desperately trying to escape. Between that, his sleep deprivation and the exalted march commencing in between his ears, Garrett was not a very happy mabari. Speaking of mabari…

"Oof! My balls…" Hawke squeaked out several octaves higher than usual. "Bad dog!"

"Bark!" Said the mabari currently trying to force his snout deeper into his master's crotch only to be continuously pushed aside. "Bark! Bark!"

"Get off, Bounce!" Hawke danced with his mabari in alternating circles attempting to swat the dog away. "Sit! Sit!"

"Whine." Said Bounce.

"Good dog." He patted Bounce firmly on the head as he finally obeyed, then rested some of his half-drunk weight on the salivating pooch. "Did mother send you too find me?"

"Bark."

"Ugh… how angry is she?"

"Whine."

"I'll be sleeping in your bed then."

"Whine." Bounce lunged forward and furiously began to lick the grime from his master's beard.

"Aww doggy kisses." Hawke cooed. "At least you'll always love me."

"Bark!"

"—disgusting-" A group of women passing by whispered amongst themselves as they stared at the mabari-human love display in disgust. "—Fereldan-"

"Come, Bounce. The world is not ready for our love!" Garrett feeling overdramatic swaggered off with his excited mabari in tow making the women gasp as if personally affronted.

As soon as he rounded the corner, however, all the bravado left his skin pale and greenish. He tipped sideways, elbow landing against a rough wall and tipped his shoulders suddenly forward as his body began purging his stomach of its contents. Bounce watched with fascination as his master continued to make retching sounds and gave an encouraging bark between each overture. His bobtail thumped against the ground as Garrett leaned away from the acidic stench and patted the dog's head as if trying to reassure them both. As soon as his master began to stagger away from the scene of the crime, bounce launched forward and sniffed at the bile-covered floor.

"Maker, no Bounce!" Hawke tried desperately to stop the mabari from eating the puke. "It's tainted! It's evil!"

"Bark?" Bounce paused and titled his head in confusion before grunting his annoyance and continuing to follow.

As Garrett crawled up the stairs to Gamlen's house-shack-whatever he could already feel the whip like tongue of his mother lashing at his back. No, wait… he paused his ascension up the steps to stair wide-eyed at a pair of feminine shoes inches from his face. Swallowing, he swivelled his face upwards to stare at the fuming woman wagging her finger in time with her fast moving lips. Hawke frowned, wandering whether he had gone deaf as he stuck his fingers in his ears and twiddled them until the wax and white noise cleared away.

"-do you?" Leandra finished, swallowing a gulp of air to replace all she had expelled during her tirade.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, mother?"

"Garrett." This time she pulled out the disappointed look card making her son flinch at its critical hit. "You're a grown man, you can do as you please, but you can't make me worry about you like this. You promised me you'd be home for dinner last night. It's been so long since I've had you too myself, to be my son just for a little while. I worry every time you walk out that door to go off adventuring with your friends. A mother worries even when her children are grown and since Bethany-"

"Mother no." Garrett was up like a shot, fighting through the white wash of blood jerk starting his brain from rising too quickly, to pull his mother into a tight embrace. "Don't cry."

"My little girl…" Leandra sobbed quietly into her son's shoulder as he held her, ignoring the grime that had built up on his shirt.

"Shhh, mother." He gently soothed. "Bethany's with father now. Nothing can hurt them anymore."

"You and Carver are all I have left."