Maker, was she beautiful. Varric could have stared at her for hours, and considering how far gone she was right now she probably would have let him. Or she'd punch him. He was still learning exactly what type of drunk Hawke was, but so far the research was proving…entertaining.

The first sign was her fingers twisting up bits of her hair, leaving strange makeshift curls framing the delicate curves around her eyes and ears. Varric was tickled pink at the sight of it, and had to bite his tongue to laugh at her schoolgirl giggle that rose with the blush on her cheeks whenever he teased her about the habit. That was also the second sign: her face flushing, bringing a heightened beauty to the two blue jewels that she had for eyes.

Varric cast a furtive glance over toward Anders, who was now snoozing lightly at the edge of the table, about to fall off. He resisted the urge to give the mage a good shove, knowing damn well that Isabella would probably take the opportunity if he didn't. Their pirate friend was currently up at the bar, flirting with another sailor that would no doubt be bedding with her tonight, and wondering what that itch was a week from now.

A hiccup brought him back to his current, semi-conscious company. He smiled as Hawke blinked away some upcoming dizziness.

"What?" she slurred at him, straining to focus.

There is no way she was walking home like this, he thought to himself. That's for sure.

"Oh nothing, beautiful," he stated with a growing smile. "Just admiring."

"Please," she laughed, waving her mug around for a refill.

Hawke couldn't take her liquor very well it seemed, but she sure as shit didn't know when to stop either. Varric made a quick mental note of whose tab this was all going on tonight before nodding his head for a refill of his own.

"You, master dwarf," said the lady with a finger pointed suddenly and intensely at his face, "are a tease."

Varric stopped himself mid swig and wide-eyed. This was certainly unexpected.

"What?" He had to laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation. "What ever could you mean, m'lady?"

"You! With your flirting and this 'm'lady' nonsense! But when a girl's interested you tell her you can't return it because your crossbow is the jealous type? You know how ridiculous that sounds? And I'm pretty drunk right now, Varric."

A smile was creeping up on Varric's face again. Even when intoxicated this vixen made decent points. She was a sharp one. He'd have to watch out for that.

"My apologies, Hawke, I didn't realize I'd broken your heart too."

The flush in her face increased. Varric was a bit surprised at this, but also rather amused. So it turned out after all that he wasn't the only one hiding these feelings…it just so happened he was better at concealing them when it came to almost four pints of heavy ale.

"Too?" she raised an eyebrow. "How many women do you do this to, Varric?"

The dwarf laughed. So hard, in fact, that he had to wipe tears from his eyes after recovering.

"It seems just one, ma'am. But I never had any intention of hurting you Hawke. I would never dream of doing that to someone I love."

Hawke fell silent after that, one of her eyebrows raised in careful consideration. For a moment Varric thought he might have been played, and then cursed himself after realizing what he'd said. As it turns out, enough ale can make a dwarf's tongue slip as much as any human's.

The curious gaze turned into a smile and she giggled the awkwardness off. Varric joined in on it, praying that Andraste would somehow wipe Hawke's memory of that last exchange. Even if what he said had been true.

The dwarf cast another glance up toward the bar. Isabella was indeed gone. He shook his head and turned to glance over at Anders, wondering what would become of the man tonight as Varric walked Hawke home. Naturally he could stay here, but neither the owner nor Anders would be very happy of the circumstances come morning.

After downing a portion of his drink, Varric decided that Anders would survive.

Hawke hiccupped again. How could someone so skilled and dangerous be equally vulnerable and so very heart wrenchingly adorable as well?

Or perhaps Varric just had strange tastes.

They caught each other's eye, at which point Varric realized he'd been staring again. Almost every little wisp of her hair was now curled in some awkward direction, and her face held the rosiest hue beneath her bright blue eyes. She was the picture of drunken perfection.

He couldn't let her walk home like this. Even in her condition, Varric wouldn't be able to support her given his stature and her current level of intoxication.

Tonight would be a true test of his manner as a gentleman.

"I think you've had enough, beautiful." He got to his feet and felt a slight rush to his head. Now he knew there was no way he would be able to walk her home and walk himself back too. The room swayed all of a sudden, and the dwarf had to steady himself against the table.

Maker, if he was this bad he didn't want to know how Hawke would feel in the morning.

"What, you're kicking me out?"

The dwarf's playful nature rebounded almost instantly despite his unexpected battle with gravity.

"What?" he gasped jokingly. "Throwing to the curb a beautiful lady such as yourself? Not at all. You'll be taking my bed tonight." He bowed in a silly manner, making her snort.

"And where will you sleep?"

He shrugged. "I'll figure that part out."

Her joyous expression fell again into genuine concern, and Andraste be damned, it made him love her a little more that she worried about even the simplest things for him.

"I can't have that Varric. I'll walk home. It's not far."

She started to stand only to promptly be taken over by gravity and the weight of her light armor that she'd worn that night. Varric smiled.

"No m'lady, I really can't allow that. What would I do with myself if something happened to you?" He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles gently. A wave of heat grew in his face, and if he knew Hawke at all he'd have guessed that hers had done the same.

"Oh come now Varric, we both know your life would be quieter for it."

The statement stopped the dwarf for a moment, unsure if she was serious or not. He decided not to think too much on it and instead continue on with his not-quite ruse.

"Quieter? Yes. Enjoyable? Hardly." He smiled up at her and watched as her crooked grin melted away into something different. "Now come m'lady. I'll not have you sneaking out to walk home on my watch."

She rose deftly to her feet this time, again making Varric question which out of the two of them was really drunk right now.

"What about Anders?"

"Bah, he'll be fine."

-

"Honestly Varric, are you sure?"

Hawke stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, her foot twisting meticulously into the floorboards as she tried to look every way but at the bed itself. If Varric wasn't so concerned she'd bolt out the door at any minute he would have laughed at her for this behavior. Here was a woman who had fought dragons, Qunari, assassins, blood mages, and Maker knew what else, and yet the thought of sleeping in her best friend's bed was a form of terror that rendered her as timid as a chantry sister in a whorehouse.

"Of course," he told her. "For the fiftieth time," he added as an aside to himself.

"It just seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for me."

"Hawke, I've fought side by side with you in more skirmishes than I can think back on, and allowing you to stay the night so you're not mugged in the streets, or worse, is you asking too much of me?" He sidled up to her and handed over a night shirt. "Remind me to discuss boundaries amongst friends with you sometime." He winked, which seemed to set her back to a normal level of comfort.

"Very well, but I'd feel better taking the floor."

"Nonsense, you're a lady."

"And you're a gentleman all of a sudden?"

The sarcasm brought a smile to his face. There was the lady he loved!

"When I choose to be."

"Very well. Don't look while I change!"

Varric smiled again and maintained a gentleman's distance with his eyes turned away while Hawke removed her light armor, her tunic and finally her trousers. As she slipped on the borrowed nightshirt he heard her mutter "oh dear."

"Something wrong?"

"Um…well…"

He turned and might have laughed if he wasn't completely taken away with the sight before him. Marian Hawke stood before him as a paragon of beauty and womanhood. Her lean frame curled with gentle muscle development along her arms and incredibly exposed thighs. Her skin was a pale, milky white, which reflected the moonlight that danced casually over her exposed flesh, while the rest absorbed the candlelight. She was a goddess.

Varric had to check himself to make sure he hadn't left his mouth agape.

"It's a bit short," she muttered uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edges of the shirt.

"You-uh- it…looks fine," he stated, trying to pull his eyes away and finding it strangely difficult. Hawke didn't seem to catch the slip as she frowned at her indecent exposure. "No one here but me."

The frown that placated itself on the young woman's face deepened, showing that this was not in the least bit a comforting thought.

"I should just go home."

Sighing, Varric stepped forward and took one of her hands in his own, folding the other on top of it. He looked up at her eyes which hesitantly met his own, and gave the sincerest smile he had ever given in his life.

"Please, m'lady. It would do this dwarf a great service for you to stay somewhere he knows you are safe. I'm in no more of a condition to walk you home than you are to walk yourself. Please, do my heart this kind service of making me not have to stay awake worrying about you."

Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment before Hawke finally pulled her gaze away in acquiescence.

"Very well."

Varric kissed her hand.

"Thank you m'lady. Now, if you don't mind, it's my turn to change so if you would be so kind."

Hawke obliged him by turning and sitting down on the bed. The dwarf was done within seconds and had started to set himself up a makeshift cot on the floor. It didn't take long. He slipped his shoes off, and turned to wish Hawke a good night only to find that she had already fallen asleep. The creature was so tired she'd not even gotten to pull the covers up yet.

The dwarf chuckled to himself.

"Well now," he whispered in amusement. "Can't allow you to go and catch a cold while you're in my care, can I?"

Gently the dwarf crawled up on to the bed beside her. With the greatest attention afforded to the dwarven race, Varric laid the blankets down over her slumbering frame. He smiled as her gentle snores buzzed through her nose. It was strange to see her like this, but he was happy for the experience.

As Hawke drifted in her drunken slumber Varric allowed his imagination to creep up on him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up next to this godlike creature in all her strength and beauty and sincerity. He remembered the Dalish Keeper saying how Hawke had honesty in her face, a rare trait in a human. He considered that and more, of all the virtues this woman possessed; what man would possibly be deserving of her?

He thought on the two men pining for her eye, Anders and Fenris, and how contemptible they were. Anders and his self absorbed quest to free all mages in order to justify his past, and Fenris who was even somehow more self-absorbed and unpredictable. Varric liked each of them well enough as drinking partners, but he didn't know if he'd trust either of them with the care of his dearest friend.

But if not them, then who?

Hawke herself had called him out on his feelings tonight, and whether she remembered or not would not settle his unease come morning. Was she beginning to see through his cover? Were his feelings for her becoming more evident?

Varric sighed sadly and brushed a curled lock of hair out of the lady's face. It was true and he was finally almost ready to admit it.

He was in love.

He never thought he could fall for a human, but he also didn't think he'd ever meet a human like her. He could easily and happily take her and make her his own, show her the wonders of the world and give her everything within his power to make her smile and keep her safe, but she wouldn't have him. No woman like her would want a dwarf.

His joy was beginning to escape along with his drunkenness, and Varric knew that if he did not take this chance he would never forgive himself. He leaned forward and could smell the juniper soaps she used. Earth. Those aromas did her justice. He kissed her cheek, and only her cheek (he was still a gentleman after all) and took in every detail: the feel and smell of her skin, the cool temperature of it, everything. It was a tiny moment of bliss that exploded in his mind with the torturous reminder that he would never have something like this again.

And damn him, he had to take it while she was asleep.

He stayed there for a few more moments, dreaming and wishing and growing in his sorrows and certainties of what would never be. This was love he realized, and remembered, with a hint of sadness and irony. This was how he would feel forever, and he wouldn't change it for anything. It was enough to be at her side and keep her safe. Whatever came after that would be dealt with over time.

She shivered before falling still again.

Varric didn't move. He stayed at her side, watching her sleep and thinking about life, and what it would be like if she would have him. He knew it was just a fantasy…but he could see just for a brief moment what a quiet existence would entail and it made him feel…complete. He could see children and a small home somewhere in Kirkwall, surrounded by family and friends, and maybe even a dog! At that moment, he didn't really care.

With a sorrowful sigh, Varric gently pushed another lock of hair out of her face. The smell of juniper was beginning to overwhelm him, make his chest ache with want, and he was hating himself more for lingering here at her side for longer than he should have. He shouldn't have even allowed himself to stay this long, entertaining thoughts that would never be.

No, the love that he wanted would never be. Everything that Hawke had said was undoubtedly the result of a confused drunken stupor and in the morning they would wake up to being only friends again. He leaned over to whisper words of apology to her un-listening ears, but sleep overtook the dwarf long before logic could.

-

The morning sun was a welcome sight, until Varric remembered the events from the night before. He shot up from where he lay and instantly regretted the motion. Nausea hit him like a caravan on the highway, and he instantly doubled back over to wait for the room to stop spinning. After a few seconds of groaning and cursing all of the Maker's creations he realized that he was alone in his bed. Sadness sparked somewhere within him, but fear soon followed and quickly enveloped it. If Hawke had awoke to find him lying next to her and assumed the worst…

"Shit."

The dwarf forced himself out of bed and started to pull on his clothes from the night before. He needed to apologize, to explain himself…until he noticed a jerkin that was not his. A pair of shoes, a sword…either Hawke was still here, or she had left in such a rush that she hadn't even changed out of his nightshirt. He was hoping the former was the case.

The answer to his question came a few moments later as he overheard a nasty retching sound coming from the water closet. He rushed over and knocked, unsure if he should wait or just open the door. When no answer came he gently pushed it forward. If she was lying anywhere on the floor the last thing she needed was being knocked out by him bursting in like a fool.

Varric found Hawke with her head half inside of a bucket as he peered inside.

"Hawke?" he whispered gently. If experience had taught him anything, he knew her head must have been pounding almost twice as bad as his own. "Are you alright?"

She chuckled, then coughed, and then groaned.

"I've had better mornings," she assured him with a tired smile. "Need me to move over?"

He laughed. "I might in a moment, hold on."

Varric grabbed a towel from the wash-basin and wet it with warm water, then filled a mug with the same and brought it back to her, sitting cross legged at her side. He allowed her to finish emptying the contents of her stomach and liver again before handing her the towel so she could wipe her face and a mug of water to wash out the taste in her mouth.

"I'm sorry Varric, I'm such a problem for you."

He offered her a gentle, nervous grin. "Nonsense, m'lady. Your safety takes precedence over convenience."

She groaned, then laughed. "You're too kind."

Silence grew between them. For a while, Varric debated whether or not it was worth bringing up at all, but he knew once her sickness passed she would remember waking up next to the dwarf and wonder what had transpired.

He decided that if he was to retain her friendship he would have to be honest up front.

"Hawke I want to apologize for last night."

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Her eyes were transfixed on the bucket. It took her some time and some effort to pull away and lean against the wall to look him in the eye.

"I'm not worried, Varric."

His heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

Her smile, more beautiful to him now than it had been before, glowed beneath her exhaustion glazed eyes.

"I'm certain nothing happened, and I'm even more certain that you had no ill intentions." The smile returned between moments of hazy, blank staring.

"So, you're not angry?"

"I trust you, Varric. I thought you knew that much by now. Besides…if something had happened I couldn't say I'd be sorry for it."

She was still drunk. It was the only thing he could consider as he watched her swish the water around in her mouth. His eyes fell to the floor in consideration, but she interrupted him in his thoughts.

"My apologies, friend. Perhaps that's too forward of me."

Her eyes fell and she placed the cup at her side, the cloth on top of it. Varric tilted his head listlessly, watching her, observing her. A small piece of courage ballooned up inside of him, and in addition to the alcohol, Verric Tethras did the most ignorant, dangerous thing he felt that he would ever do.

He crawled forward, possessed by whim and fancy and the grandest of all crazed desires and passions, and kissed her.

Hawke froze at first, stunned. The dwarf's heart skipped another beat in fear…and then she returned the gesture, bringing up her hands to entwine her thin fingers in his hair and pulling his face deeper into hers. His hands flew up to cup her face, feeling the smoothness of her skin and the hollows of her cheeks, brushing against the still curled ebony black locks that framed her features. The smell of juniper was still there, and the yearning grew in his chest and bubbled up in his throat.

Something wrapped around his midsection and drew him even closer. Her legs. Now desire was pulling at different parts of him, and the dwarf wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain this level of control and keep his dignity, and Hawke's intact.

"We should stop," he finally whispered, his voice hoarse and weighed down with his own disappointment. He couldn't do this, not with them both in this state. "As much as I hate to. I don't wish to steal your honor like this."

Hawke pulled away. There was an expression in her face and a burning in her eyes that Varric did not recognize. Was she disappointed as well?

The woman sighed and collapsed against the wall again.

"Very well, sir dwarf," she stated, her voice now cold. "I suppose you know best."

He held up his hands, pleading his defense to the woman, but she raised her own hand to stop him.

"Don't misunderstand me, Varric. I'm not angry with you. I understand your reasoning and will not argue it. I just..." she trailed off and her eyes suddenly became unfocused.

"Hawke?"

Her head was in the bucket before he could even crack a smile at the circumstances. Varric chuckled and grabbed the cloth and mug, rewetting, refilling and returning to her side. He set them each down and rubbed her back as she expelled more toxins from her body.

"Take your time, m'lady," he whispered gently. "I've got all day."

Strange, he thought, that of all places, there wasn't one he'd rather be than right here.