Bioware owns all, I'm just grateful to play in their sandbox.
Shelter: Chapter 4
Sebastian saw Hawke turn down the landing into the Guardsmans' quarters. They'd come to meet with the viscount and he'd been drawn into a conversation with the seneschal. He thought to catch her up and see if she was going home or if they had a new task. He'd heard the ripple of her laughter from Aveline's office and he'd paused to listen, a smile flickering across his face at the warmth of her chuckle.
"I mean it, Hawke! Stop sleeping with my guardsmen!" Oh. Sebastian ducked his head, forcing down the twist of bitter jealousy in his gut. He should probably leave, now.
"Stop hiring the pretty ones, then." Leave any minute.
"Isabela is a terrible influence on you." Sebastian would have to agree.
""She'll be pleased to hear it."
"Hawke."
"Oh, Aveline. It's not as if I'm lining them up every evening to pick out my new favorite." Thank Andraste for small favors. "It was Brennan, what last year? And then Fergus a month ago."
"And now the others are casting lots and trying to pull duty where you might be prowling."
"Do I prowl? I am sorry, though, Aveline. I didn't realize I was distracting."
"Why the guardsmen? I know Leandra has you out among the noble sons now."
"Tcha. Have you met the noble sons of Kirkwall?"
"A few." He would have to agree with the dismissing tones of the women's voices.
"Shaken hands with any? No, of course not. They all have hands like cold fish and marshmallows, Aveline. It is truly…unpleasant to have them touch you."
"What does this have to do with my guardsmen?"
"I'm a good daughter. Mother wants me to find a nice boy and settle down. And I have humored her. I go to the parties and the salons and the suppers. I dance and chat and now and again one of them tries to stick their limp hand down my bodice. And I don't stab them. Because I'm a good daughter." Even Aveline had to chuckle at that. Sebastian nodded at a guardsman who had looked up at Sebastian's choked snort.
"You know, in Ferelden, I could at least have counted on the nobles being trained to sword or bow. I'm reasonably sure most of these men have never held their own." Aveline coughed. "I was going to say quills, Aveline." Hawke finished demurely.
"Still, what does that have to do with…oh, calluses." He could almost hear Aveline blush. It probably matched his.
"There you go. I bet Donnic has…"
"Hawke."
"Yes, Guard Captain?" With his eyes closed he could picture Hawke blinking her wide gray eyes innocently to contrast with the wicked grin she likely wore. "Anyway. I'm not chasing after the lowlife mercs in this town and the only other soldiers in Kirkwall are Templars and well." Hawke trailed off.
"No. That would be inappropriate."
Sebastian backpedalled up the stairs as he heard the women approach the door.
-000-
"To the Void with you!" Hawke kicked the bandit who had thrown acid at her in his chest, sending the recently dead fellow over the cliff and into the water, below.
She'd stripped off her half-fingered gloves when the acid started to eat through the leather. Picking them up gingerly, she cast them over the cliff as well. "I just bought the sodding things!"
"Need healing?" Anders looked up from Fenris' badly cut bicep even as the elf snarled.
"Finish already, mage!"
Hawke looked over at them. "How's that arm?"
Anders waved her off. "Just fine in a minute."
"Then, no." She grumbled as she looked at her wrist. She rinsed it off with a splash from her waterskin and winced as the water hit the reddened skin.
"Here. Let me." Sebastian pulled a vial from a pocket on his quiver. He pulled the cork with his teeth and caught her small strong hand in his own to pour the healing solution over the blistering skin. The elfroot stopped the stinging and her wrist regained its smooth texture. He didn't let go though. How come she always forgot how tall he was until he was standing next to her like this?
"There now. Not so bad." Sebastian's voice smoothed over her. He was rubbing his ungloved thumb soothingly against the hollowed joint where her own thumb met her wrist. He meant to stop until he heard the breathy tenor of her reply.
"Uh. Thank you." Hawke's eyes were wide, dilated in the growing twilight and the gray had taken on a slight smoky quality. He didn't know why he couldn't let go of her hand. But he did know exactly why he dragged his thumb a little farther up the sensitive inside of her arm, away from the healing burn. She breathed in sharply and caught her lip in her teeth. He was tempted. Maker, he was tempted to drop a kiss in that hollowed spot on her wrist as he kept his eyes on hers. She tugged back then, though, and he let her go.
She shot occasional glances back at him as they trekked back to Kirkwall. How had he known? Because he had. There had been something that in another man's eyes would have been self sure knowledge of just how that roughened thumb dragging across the sensitized flesh would feel.
Sebastian spent the trip wondering if he should pray harder about deliberately trying to stimulate her or the smug feeling he got when he could see her trying to deduce how he'd come by his knowledge of her weakness.
