The delightful aroma of food woke Hawke from her deep slumber. As she opened her eyes, she stretched across the bed, humming appreciatively as her muscles tightened and loosened at her actions.
"Ah, you're finally awake," came Varric's voice. He sat at the table, a letter in one hand, and a piece of food in the other.
Hawke sat up, smiling at her lover as he rose from his seat, grabbed one of the plates of food and walked over to her. Varric had gotten dressed, much to the disappointment of Hawke, but threw off his jacket when he settled onto the bed next to her.
"How are you this fine morning?" Hawke asked, tucking the blanket around herself so it would not fall away from her chest.
"Indescribable," Varric quipped. "And you, Champion?"
Hawke scoffed, scrunching her nose in dislike. "Varric, you know I don't like it when you call me that in bed."
He grinned and held out the plate in front of her. "Would this change your mind?" He asked.
Hawke smiled, eyeing the plate hungrily. "You made me waffles?"
"Well, technically Norah made the waffles. However, I did bring them to you in bed. That has to count for something." He grabbed the fork and tore of a piece of the waffle to offer to Hawke.
She hummed as she chewed. "Norah has outdone herself."
"I'll tell her you said so," Varric said with a smile, before placing a kiss on the corner of Hawke's mouth.
"Varric," Isabela purred.
"Yes, Rivaini?" Varric kept his eyes on the path in front of him. He, Isabela, Aveline and Hawke were making their nightly rounds through Kirkwall. Or rather Hawke's and Aveline's nightly rounds. Varric didn't mind roughing up the mercenary rats that prowled the alleys, but Hawke's determination to keep the city that treated her poorly, up until she saved them all, safe was admirable.
"I couldn't help but overhear your new nickname for Hawke." Isabela's tone had its usual mirth to it, and Varric had a feeling that Isabela was waiting for an opportunity to say her share of dirty jokes pertaining to Hawke's nickname.
"And?"
"And, I am curious as where "Waffles" came from."
Hawke laughed, having heard Isabela's query, but did not turn around as she and Aveline led the party.
"Isn't it obvious?"Varric questioned. "She-"
"Wait, wait. Let me guess," Isabela interrupted. "She likes to be covered in syrup," she suggested slyly.
"And here I thought my deepest darkest sexual desires would be kept between us, Varric," Hawke jested.
"Sincere apologies, Waffles. Rivaini is just too clever for her own good." Varric chuckled.
"So now I'm the only one without a nickname?" Aveline asked, outraged.
"I've given you plenty of nicknames!" Isabela corrected, earning her a dark glare from the red head.
"You didn't like the nickname I gave you," Varric reminded her.
"And I'm sure in that brain of yours you can find a better one." Aveline's tone was almost threatening.
Varric chuckled. "I'll keep searching my brilliant mind for a better one."