romdeau | a fishing date;

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a fishing date;

There were no impromptu trips to Sundermount, in fact. Merrill had holed herself up with the Eluvian, avoiding Hawke whenever possible. The Arulin'Holm stayed at the estate, locked away somewhere, and the Dalish woman didn't want to see or hear from Hawke without good cause. Which was understandable (upsetting, but understandable), and she let Varric and Isabela take over Merrill's undertaking. They'd update her whenever possible and she was infinitely grateful, though she knew things couldn't stay that way forever. Eventually, they'd need to talk, and that would happen when Marian was good and ready. For now, she wasn't.

First on her mind was Anders and his mage underground. He would disappear for days on end, surfacing only to work in his clinic where he would refuse to go on any errands. Too busy, he'd say, occupied with his patients and his manifesto. It didn't stop him from pressing worn papers into her hands at every opportunity, the bastard. Her desk was full of Anders' scrawl, damning evidence if anyone should walk in and ask about it. She'd been certain to lock them in the bottom drawer, out of sight and out of mind, but she couldn't put him off any more than she could push aside the trouble she had with Merrill.

With her hands full of Kirkwall's smaller troubles - bandits, a few raiders on the outskirts, and a blood mage or two - she had nearly forgotten her plans with Cullen until she returned one night to a note on her desk at the end of the week. Even such a simple thing was enough to brighten her mood considerably and she packed that evening, though she wasn't to meet him for two more days.

She used the time to tell only a few that she'd be gone from the city, that no one was kidnapping her, and that she'd be very cross if she came back to find Kirkwall burning in her absence. Only Isabela and Varric gave her a hard time for her attempts at discretion, asking for details and gaining nothing.

By sunset on the second day, she was down by the docks to meet him, a pack slung over one arm and her blades across her shoulders, her eyes on the ships and the few workers lingering around. She couldn't be too careful, even now.

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"Who's going to know? And secrets are the best part about some things," she said. "Not for...all things, but for some. Though I don't think I'll be able to look at any small boat the same way again," she teased, a little pink at the edges of her cheeks, though her smile was unabashed.

She looked up briefly at the sky and then back at him, nodding. "Likewise, even if it's a little cool. If it'd started raining..." Well, they'd be like two soaked rats and the crabbing wouldn't even be worth it.

Edited 2012-09-12 01:05 (UTC)

"Nor will I. It will make boat watching at the harbor a new experience." Would it ever. He'd have to be careful or people would notice that, the Knight-Captain inexplicably blushing as the fishing boats came in.

"Do you need your clothes again?" He tried not to sound disappointed about that. If she was cold, he didn't need to be gawking, but by the Maker she was a sight. He wrapped her in closer, intending to let her up to dress if she needed him to.

She chuckled. "Isabela's going to know immediately. Every time she mentions something about boats, I'm going to be smiling and she'll just know what happened." She rubbed her forehead, not entirely certain she was still astounded it progressed so far or not. "She'll never be able to guess the truth, though," she added with a smirk. No one would believe it.

It was too easy to remain comfortable in his arms, especially once he'd pulled her closer. She shook her head."Not yet. I'm just fine." She would need her pants eventually, she supposed, but she liked the feel of his skin too much. Hawke ducked her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. "I was right about you being able to warm me up."

"I'm going to do my best to stay away from anyone who can read me that well for a few days at least," he confessed. He didn't think it would be all that difficult to put together for anyone who knew him well and what sorts of things made him blush. "How hard do you think she'll try to pry?" He wasn't horribly concerned about it, just curious more than anything else.

"Good. I like having you like this." Naked in his lap? If that wasn't an obvious one, he wasn't sure what was. He ducked his head slightly with his grin. "Not just...naked, but close. I'm enjoying the closeness." He had almost forgotten how nice it could be, and it usually took him longer to get that comfortable with someone.

"Thrask, then? ...And what about Meredith?" The idea that she would know he'd been with someone was both exciting and absolutely horrifying. She'd never suspect it was Hawke, thankfully, but she didn't want to take that risk. Not just yet. "She would pry a little. She'd probably come to the conclusion that I had a drunken night on a skiff with a sailor." Her smile was crooked. "Not entirely inaccurate, all things considered."

Her chuckle was muted against his neck and she kissed him once on the shoulder. "Do you?" she teased, but her smile relaxed somewhat at the edges, softer now. "I'm enjoying it too." Which was almost as strange to admit. She wasn't an overly affectionate person with people she didn't know as well as her friends. It was an odd thing to be comfortable with him.

"Thrask will be one to avoid, yes," he agreed. "Meredith has never questioned me about my personal life. I don't know if she even imagines that I have one." That was fine by him. They worked better together without superfluous small talk. He laughed again, surprised at how regular of an occurrence it had been that night so far. It was nice. "Oh ho! Are we attributing this to the brandy then?"

He snorted a soft sound and nodded, his cheek against her hair. "I'm really glad. I was a little nervous when I thought about it, the two of us trapped on a boat together all night. There was always the chance that if the conversation ran out it could just be awkward. I'm very good at awkward. It's a well honed skill." At least that was the case when he was uncomfortable. He was thanking the Maker he wasn't, or he was fairly certain this would have been their last outing.

And even better for her. She snorted quietly, shaking her head. "Never. But she doesn't need to know that." Mischief was alight in her eyes. "Do you want her barking at your door, asking you all the questions about our little encounter?" she asked slyly.

Yes, she could imagine that being a fear of his. She'd been worried about them having an argument before any estranged conversation. "You're doing just fine," she said truthfully, turning her head to look at him from the corners of her eyes. "Besides, I could have simply spent the evening keeping your face red and I don't think that would have been very fun for you."

"Sending her to me would be the worst idea. She'd get me flustered and wind up thinking we did something much more blush worthy than we did." Isabela interrogating him about a date was a terrifying idea on every level.

"Maybe not, but it would have been a riot for you, I imagine." He stroked a hand lightly down her back, giving her a touch of his nails in a gentle scratch. "Or perhaps there comes a point where it shuts off and I'm immune. I've never had anyone try to take it that far to find out."

"Perish the thought," she murmured affectionately, but he was absolutely right. Isabela wouldn't stop if she thought he was embarrassed, either. "I'll find something for her to read into that will go nowhere, you have my word."

She laughed quietly. "But that runs the risk of it not happening again, Sera. No, I'll take your red faces when they happen and that's that." It was a nice tell that she could keep in case she had a hard time reading what was on his mind, after all. "I've had a good time so far," she said. "If that wasn't entirely obvious."

"I have faith in you for that. You're good at the fast talking when you put your mind to it." He wasn't sure that he hadn't been on the receiving end of a few fast ones from her and her friends. It wasn't something he had any intention of pressing her about now.

"Ahh, kind to be cruel. I see how you are." He chuckled. "I'll have to try to find other ways to steel myself to your wiles." He wasn't terribly optimistic of his chances given how long he had battled this blushing problem.

He pressed a few light kisses to the top of her shoulder, following the slight slope from her neck out. "I may have noticed," he teased. "A little." His hands caressed along her side and the hip not pressed against him. "I like the way you let go." His voice dropped softer, losing the teasing timbre. "A little at a time." It was something he felt he could relate to well.

"It's better when Varric does it," she admitted quietly. "And I'm not telling him anything." He'd be just as bad as Isabela, even if he didn't breathe a word of it to anyone else.

It was hard to fight the grin that seemed to stay on her face no matter what she did. "By all means," she encouraged loftily, though she really had no intention of dragging out anything that made him uncomfortable. She squeezed his arm to say that much.

Hawke leaned a little into the movement of his lips, her hands working slowly against his upper arms in a light massage of his muscles. It wasn't anything special; she just needed to keep her hands moving somehow. "I'm not sure how to do it otherwise," she confessed. One hand moved around to his back, fingers pressing into the muscle just beneath his shoulder blade. "You do the same. I know you've let go when I can see exactly what you're thinking on your face," she confided quietly into his shoulder.

"I think you manage just fine, Sera," he said, nudging her. "I'm completely with you in the 'say nothing to Varric' plan. It's a sound plan. A non-embarrassing plan."

He shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling I'm doomed? I should resign myself to red cheeks and having you smirk at me for it." He liked her smirks most of the time, except when he worried they meant he wasn't going to like hearing about something later. That was in a completely different context.

"I know exactly what you mean." It wasn't a decision he could consciously make. It either happened or it didn't, but if it did, he had to be unraveled. He couldn't just open himself. That had him blushing again and rolling his eyes at himself for it. "I should count myself lucky that the thoughts were flattering ones, then." He wondered how she would be when they could relax more physically, surprised at the heat of the thought.

"Varric, at least, would have the good grace not to say anything untoward about it. But you'd be able to tell by the look he gave you that he knew." Bloody clever dwarf. And he always said his brother was the scary, cutthroat one. Words were just as capable of gutting a man.

Her smile was genuine for the most part. "It would be a wise decision on your part to simply surrender, yes," she teased, taking on a somewhat somber tone. "But I imagine you won't." And that would be the fun part.

It made perfect sense for him needing to be unwound. He told her about recruits severing emotional ties to people. Adding in what happened to him at Kinloch Hold, she was surprised he wasn't more adverse to being exposed so easily. Or, perhaps it'd been long enough that he was able to justify letting go. She nudged her nose against his neck gently. "Flattering or not, it was nice." She valued honesty and what trust he was willing to give was more than enough to satisfy her, considering the circumstances.

"That look alone would be enough reason for me to want to find an elsewhere to be," he said. Varric could say more with a look than some with an entire list and time on their hands to read it in full.

"Two dates, and you're already figuring me out. I don't know if I should feel flattered or frightened." He adopted an innocent smile. Of course he intended to fight it and give as good as he got whenever he could manage it. He had seen some of her blushes that night. They were most gratifying.

"It was nice," he agreed. "Better than nice. I'm not going to embarrass us both by waxing detailed, but..." He took a slow inhale and let it out again in a soft spill across the side of her head. "I have no complaints at all."

"You don't seem the type to go down without a fight, regardless of the circumstances." It was one of his attractive qualities and something she admired in him, after all. It was something else they shared.

"I have no complaints either." She smiled, squeezing him once before shifting reluctantly. She reached down to grab her trousers at the very least. "If anything, that we need a little more room next time we go out. Just in case." If they were as likely to get caught up in one another as they had tonight, they were going to need it.

"Not typically, no, although those circumstances have the potential to be more amusing than dangerous. Only my pride might get hurt." As problems went, blushing too often was a mild one.

He let her go. It wouldn't be too much longer before he wanted his shirt again. For the moment, he was all right. He shivered once as the breeze touched skin recently pressed against the warmth of her back and side. "I'll second that one." He pushed back mental images that tried to follow. He didn't need to jump ahead like that. There was no guarantee that they'd both be in the mood for something like this on another date. "If not right at the outset of the date, we could at least have the option of going somewhere that's not the middle of nowhere afterward."

"And what a terrible thing that would be," she quipped back with a faint grin. "I'll keep your pride in mind to the best of my abilities."

Her breeches came on first, laces tied. She wasn't going to bother with the belt. After a moment's consideration, she eventually decided on putting her breast band back on but nothing else for the time being. She stretched while she was up. "That's a good idea. We wouldn't need it until later, if only to have a place we can go." It would keep them from needing to resort to places like the Hanged Man. "Where would you like to go, since we're on the topic?"

"There's nothing sadder than a Templar with wounded pride," he said, lifting a hand to his chest, "unless the Templar happens to be me. Twice as sad, easily. I'll make sure of it." His eyes crinkled at the corners, a hint of the smile trying to come.

Somehow the overall effect of her half dressed was even more relaxed and casual than almost naked. The smile that had been fighting made its way out for a different reason than why it started. He didn't try to explain, instead focusing on the question. "Have you ever been to the dog races?" he asked. "It's a lot of fun. Or..." He thought about it for a moment or two. "There's a fall festival coming up in a couple of weeks. I usually work through them. I could be persuaded to make an exception this time."

She turned back to him as she was lacing up her breast band, tone entirely serious. "The woeful eyes of a Templar. One of the Chantry's most secret weapons and rather effective. It's how Templars really catch apostates." She was fighting back a smile by the end of it.

Finishing, she turned around and went back to his side, contemplating going right back into his lap. "I haven't, actually. I believe my mother went once with a few of the other nobles when she was invited." But the prospect of the festival was equally as inviting. "I could go for either, frankly. I would need to make sure that no one I know has any spotters at the races, just in case." Varric didn't seem the type to be interested but he did have a lot of gold to his name. It was entirely possible he made bets on the side.

"It's a difficult job. Someone has to do it." He favored him with the best soulful look he could muster on short notice and on the wrong side of wanting to laugh.

He seemed perfectly content to give her access to his lap again, leaning back as though he thought she intended to plop herself down there. "We wouldn't sit in the boxes," he said cheerfully. "It's a lot more fun out in the crowd." He had access to such things but rarely took advantage unless he was having to act as official entertainment or guide to someone of import. "Nothing says we couldn't run into one another in line and just decide to sit together." He didn't like the idea of feeling as though they needed to look over their shoulders constantly.

"Still, you're the one picking the outing, so I'm not going to complain about how you decide to make the arrangements." He thought either would be a good time.

"In the crowd?" Much easier to meet up and eventually slip away, for certain. "Well, that changes things." But beside that, it would be entirely more entertaining to be closer and mingling. No nobles to potentially run into. She would still look into ensuring none of Varric's informants were around but she doubted it would be necessary. It was a perfect idea.

She quirked an eyebrow upwards when she finally decided to sit, right back where she'd been in his lap. "You could always choose, you know."

"I don't see why not. It's where I usually sit when I'm able to get away." Usually was perhaps a generous term. He didn't make it to the races that often. With tensions in the city as high as they had been, he was just as likely to be there on duty as off.

"Oh, hello," he said when she came back down to him. He wrapped his arm across her and rested his hand casually on her thigh, a little extra warmth and leaning space. "I did. That's what put us out in a small sloped boot off the Wounded Coast." He quirked his lips slightly. "Besides, maybe I want to see what you would want for us to do."

Usually was a very generous term. She crossed the Gallows once a week and he was always there. The look she gave him conveyed her skepticism, though she left it at that. It was still a brilliant idea.

"Hello," she said with a faint smile, pleased he was all right with the contact. Considering what they'd been doing not ten minutes before, she doubted there would have been a problem. "But the boat's served us so well," she drawled, mirth in her expression. "It was a lovely idea." Neither of them anticipated what it led to. She wasn't certain she could choose, though the dog races sounded highly appealing. "...Why not make plans for both? It's entirely possible that something could come up, after all, knowing us."

"We'll be glad of it in the morning when we're feasting on crab," he said, confident that when they pulled up the traps they'd be rewarded for their efforts. In the mean time, they did have more food. They wouldn't go back starving if it didn't work quite as planned.

"It is at that." He decided not to say it aloud, but he also wouldn't object if nothing came up and they were able to attend both. "Very good thinking. We could do the races at just about any time. The festival's time window is of a more limited scope."

"See? It wasn't a terrible idea at all." She was looking forward to trying some almost as much as she was looking forward to seeing Orana's reaction to the little creatures. She wasn't sure if the elf had seen one before. Bodahn and his son probably hadn't, she bet.

She nodded. "I didn't see much of the festival last year. I'd been out of the city for a bit." The last thing she wanted to do would be to stand him up, even if he would understand. "But honestly, do you have a preference?"

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