Varric's POV

Well, I didn't laugh. Not at first, anyway. Daisy tried to teach her girlfriend how to dance. It was like watching a train-wreck. You're disgusted, but you can't look away.

Aveline was an awkward mess of uncoordinated limbs. No amount of scotch could fix that. But they were happy, and that was all any of us wanted to see. Except maybe Isabela. She wanted them to get naked so she had something to tease Big Girl about. I'd rather not think about Hawke's roommate doing… that. Anyone else, I can fantasize about. But not Merrill. She's my friend; a very sisterly type of friend, in fact. If she were actually my sister, I'd of tucked her into a convent years ago.

Just as I was tempted to pour myself a drink, my favorite depraved duo finally rejoined the party. The pirate was readjusting her tunic and sash, her walk a little more staggered than it was when she went into the bathroom. I doubt she even got undressed. Not that it would have made much difference, considering her contempt for pants of any kind. Hawke marched like a shadow behind her, grinning fiercely. She pulled out her replica pistol, twirling it in one hand and blowing over the end of the barrel before slamming it back in her holster. Her hair was a mess, but I had no intention of telling her that. She certainly wasn't the shy virgin Isabela had dragged to bed nearly two months ago. That was fine with me. I liked her newfound shamelessness.

They met up with me at the bar, asking where Merrill ran off to. I pointed at her through the crowd. That's when the laughing really started. You don't know comedy if you haven't seen our ginger guardswoman doing the Time Warp. Badly. Really badly. Rivaini was smart enough to record the whole thing on her phone. She sent it to both of us. Not that Hawke or I would ever admit it. As far as Aveline is concerned, we were outside making a phone call at the time.

By the time all of us left the Rose, it had begun to snow. Isabela was too busy pushing Cassandra backwards into a cab to notice. But Daisy didn't take Kirkwall's first snow for granted. She collected snowflakes on her tongue. She used her staff to write her name in the thin white fluff. She twirled and skipped all the way to my bug. Aveline was tired and tipsy. She begged Merrill to cover up in the cold, but the effort was wasted. They cuddled up together in the backseat of my car as I drove them home. Daisy had to practically drag her girlfriend toward the side entrance of the dorm. I got the distinct feeling they didn't sleep in separate beds that night. But no matter how nicely I asked, neither would say a word.

The next few weeks crawled by. My downstairs neighbor stayed up all hours of the night 'tending the hearth' to keep warm. I stayed up to take notes. Midterms had come and gone. Now was the time for finishing projects and studying for finals. Oh, and Thanksgiving. Rivaini and I tried to rent out the entire Hanged Man for the day, but Corff wouldn't budge on the subject. It's his fourth busiest day of the year, behind Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's. How pathetic. Most of my family is dead or disgraced, but you don't see me spending my holidays crying on a bar. I cry above the bar, in my own apartment. If I ever cried. Which I don't.

So we ended up having our little Thanksgiving celebration at Isabela's. I got drunk accordingly. You have to be drunk in order to eat anything that woman cooks. Let me rephrase that: You have to be drunk in order to withstand the wretchedly burnt objects Rivaini serves you and claims are food. So I was pretty well sloshed by 2pm; around the time Aveline and Daisy showed up in their Sunday best. Merrill wore a dark green dress, which I slurred compliments about for nearly an hour. The guardswoman wore brown slacks and a brown vest, with a cream shirt underneath. I had a feeling Merrill and Teague the tailor picked that out for her. It complimented her freckles perfectly. It would have been imprudent not to say so; or to comment on her leather headband, which she hadn't taken off since Halloween. And I am nothing if not thoughtful.

I wore slacks and a nice shirt (unbuttoned at the top, of course), and decided that Wild Turkey Rare Breed bourbon was a fitting drink for the holiday. Hawke and Rivaini stayed in the kitchen most of the day, bickering like old fish wives. 'Babe, baste the turkey while I work on these potatoes.' 'I'll baste your turkey if you keep ordering me around.' It was like watching a comedy cooking show. Cassandra even bought her girlfriend a slave Leia apron to put over her little black dress. Hawke's was Darth Vader, protecting her black slacks and maroon blouse from copious amounts of flour, sugar, and crumbs. I only thank the Paragons of old that the woman actually knows how to cook. I made sure to mention that the oven hadn't seen any action since Isabela's birthday two years ago. She was so drunk, she put a tub of ice cream in there, thinking it was the freezer.

Daisy, of course, seemed shocked and appalled that Isabela was the oldest of the group (excluding myself), but didn't know how to cook for herself. She and Aveline sat on stools, while I curled up in the armchair. Hawke was chopping apples for a pie while Isabela stole bits and pieces from behind her. "But what do you two normally do when Red is here?" She mused.

"We usually just eat out." Cassandra answered. A loud 'thud' followed. It was the sound of me hitting the floor as I laughed myself to tears. Hawke and Rivaini caught on, and burst into a fit of giggles. Aveline shook her head and feigned innocence, even though her cheeks were pink as she helped me back into my seat. And Daisy just sat there, watching our sides split. She started blushing much later that night. I have a feeling Isabela explained it to her.

All the food was ready not too long after that. We laid everything out on the island. Our host had the honor of carving the turkey while Aveline and Hawke served. There were mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, candied yams, cranberry sauce, apple pie, pumpkin pie, and even dinner rolls; all made from scratch. Once we loaded our plates, we set up camp in the living room, adhering to our normal formation. I tried to offer either of the rugby players my seat, but they preferred the floor. Tradition dictated that we give thanks before eating. So, we did, if only for Merrill's sake.

I asked Rivaini to start us off, even though her mouth was already half-full of yams. She swallowed her food and cleared her throat. "I'm thankful for Hawke's culinary skills. Oh, and her bedroom skills. The sex is good, too," She mumbled at the last second.

"I'm thankful for my friends and family." Cassandra admitted, her head pillowed against the side of her girlfriend's thigh. "For the people who love me. And for Isabela." She chuckled, speaking softly. "She keeps my life interesting."

"Damn right, I do." Our host boasted, passing me her plate long enough for her to bend forward and kiss her lover, not the least bit ashamed of having an audience.

Aveline rolled her eyes. "Well, I am thankful for the support I've received this year. For the work that I do. For the companions I keep. For being happy. For my life and all the craziness that comes with it." Hawke gave her a friendly punch to the shoulder, grinning haughtily while Merrill clapped.

It took Daisy a few moments to gather her thoughts. "I'm thankful for… belonging," She began quietly. "I finally feel like I'm a part of something good. And I'm thankful for Aveline, even when she's a terrible grouch." She joked, nudging her girlfriend with her knee. I think we all laughed at that, and pretended not to notice the blush on our guardswoman's cheeks. Or the way they held hands as I began my speech.

I stood and cleared my throat. "I am thankful for being surrounded by beautiful women of all shapes and sizes. Beautiful women who enjoy listening to my stories almost as much as I enjoy telling them. Beautiful women who aren't in the least bit put-off when I stare at their breasts-"

"Varric!" They took offense to that last part. I guess I was a little more drunk than I thought. I flopped back in my seat, laughing at myself. Man Hands threw a green bean at me, only to be scolded by Daisy for making a mess. She apologized by promising to clean it up later. Hawke chucked her dinner roll at my head; which I happily ate, so it was her loss.

As we cleared our plates and progressed to a more liquid form of nourishment, there was nothing but laughter to be heard. Merrill got a bit bolder with wine and curled up in Aveline's lap, trying to braid her bright red hair. Isabela was in front of the TV, doing her own silent impression of being attacked by the white rabbit. Hawke was behind the loveseat, readying the Holy Hand-Grenade of Antioch. I was doing the counting. Big Girl was trying to guess what was going on around her. She sucks ass at charades. But we kept playing anyway. And then we started singing 'Be Our Guest'. Don't believe me? Ask the dishes.

It was getting late when I finally raised my glass. "I'd like to make a toast." Everyone stopped what they were doing (which mostly consisted of cuddling or making out), and stood, raising their glasses with me. "To our dear friend, and the reason we're all here."

"To Hawke!" We cheered.

"To Varric!" Cassandra rallied.

Isabela shouted at the top of her lungs, "To me! Wait, what?"

True story.

Author's Note: I hope this makes your day a little bit brighter. It gave me a giggle.