Rainy-Day Kate (browniecakemix) wrote in atthemangostand,
Rainy-Day Kate
browniecakemix
atthemangostand

Fanfiction: Body Shots

Title: Body Shots
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Characters/Pairing: non-mage!FemHawke/Merrill UST, Isabela
Summary: Isabela gets Merrill drunk for the first time.
Notes: I love the banter in this game, so I referenced it a lot. Super minor spoilers regarding something that can happen to Bethany.
Word count: 849



“Hawke!”

Merrill flung herself across the Hanged Man, greeting her friend with a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you! I’m having so much fun. Isabela said you were resting up for a trip to the Wounded Coast tomorrow but I hoped that you would come by. I’m having so much fun. I really like seeing you.”

Then Merrill hiccupped, and Hawke eyed her in disbelief. “Merrill, are you… drunk?”

Merrill giggled. “I can’t be drunk, silly! I’m an elf, not a beverage!” She hiccupped again. “The last time I was here Isabela said that she would teach me something called ‘body shots’ and when I came in she tried to teach me but the drink she was using smelled awful so I asked her if we could use wine because I’ve heard wine is delicious and Isabela asked if I’d ever had wine before and I said no so she bought me a bottle.” She burped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! That’s rude, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s… fine, Merrill. You said that Isabela bought you a—a whole bottle?” Hawke looked past Merrill and saw Isabela at a table with some young men, all of them raising their glasses in a cheer. Isabela caught Hawke’s eye and grinned, a wolfish, knowing grin that faltered only when she realized the woman was fixing her with the Hawke Glare Of Death™.

“Aaagh!” All of a sudden, Hawke was being pulled sideways. Her gaze followed the length of her left arm and she saw that Merrill had latched onto it and was hauling her to a table, chattering merrily away about something or other as she did so.

“It was so interesting to learn that humans went by their last names. Of course, I found out that they don’t go by their last names, usually; only you go by your last name, which got me awfully confused whenever Bethany was around—before she joined the Grey Wardens, I mean. I’m babbling again. I should stop. I’d rather not, though. I like talking to you. I feel like I can talk to you about anything.

“I mean, you’re beautiful, and you're so strong, and you’re so much more intelligent than I am. Aveline told me that when you moved here you didn’t even own a ball of twine!”

“Er… what?”

“You found your way around all by yourself! Of course, you’re also very good at cutting things; that probably helped you stay safe, as well as having strong hands.”

Hawke glanced at Merrill’s own hands, her throat dry as the desert. Merrill’s were small and looked delicate, but her fingers were long and her nails bitten as far down to the cuticle as must have been possible. Her body temperature was climbing. Merrill had no idea where she was taking this conversation.

“You know,” Merrill sighed admiringly, “calloused and a bit rough because you use them so much. A lot of people say that women should have soft hands because that’s the only thing that’s pretty, but I think that’s silly. You can do so much more with your hands than any other woman in Hightown ever could, I’m sure—and I like the way they feel against my skin.” She giggled at the thought.

Hawke swallowed. This conversation had to end now—had to happen another time, maybe some evening when Merrill wasn’t plastered and Hawke wasn’t so lonely—though maybe the latter didn’t really matter so much. She rose abruptly from the table.

“Merrill, I have to go.”

Merrill looked up at her, batting her enormous—and now sorrowful—eyes. Hawke even thought she saw her bottom lip trembling. “What? Why? I like you!” Panic started to spread across the elf’s face. “Oh, no, I’ve been talking too much. Am I talking too much? Oh, no, I’ve been babbling! I’m so sorry, Hawke, I can stop!” She clamped her lips shut, clearly straining to keep them that way.

“No, I, um—look, I—I have to go,” Hawke stammered, “home. To my estate. Where my bed is. So I can, um. Rest for the Wounded Coast trek tomorrow. Alone.” She chuckled awkwardly. At least I’m not lying about needing alone time.
“Oh.” Merrill looked so disappointed. “Well, it’s okay. I guess I can—Isabela!” She grinned and flung her arms around Isabela, who had come up to the table and taken a seat beside her elven friend. “You can help me get home, right? I know it’s silly that I’m asking you because I’ve lived here for years and I know how to get home but for some reason I’m having a bit of trouble remembering right now. I would have asked Hawke but she said she needed to go home right now for alone time.”

“Is that so!” crowed Isabela, raising an eyebrow. Embarrassment overcame Hawke, who stood trying to come up with a response as her face grew ever redder and ever hotter. Finally she settled on “I, um. Gotta go. Need to—dog. Feed him. Bye.” She bolted out of the tavern and started racing home.

That fucking Rivaini.

Tags: fiction: fandom: dragon age
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