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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The dog chuffed at him, clearly uninterested in his lyrium or his throat when there was seafood in his bowl, warm and tasty. He settled down on his belly to lick at the bowl when he was finished.

"I don't think he dislikes you either," she said with a look back at her hound. "He could be much more aggressive if he wanted to be." She grabbed the scrub brush beneath the counter and set to work scrubbing the dishes she had. "There's a clean towel over there," she added with a nod of her head towards the other side of the counter, briefly lifting a wet hand to point, which only succeeded in getting water on the counter. She rolled her eyes at herself.

"I've seen them in action. I know he could," he said, nodding. It was exactly why he wasn't comfortable treating the animal like just another dog. It wasn't smart.

He stepped over to grab the towel and wiped up the wet spot on the counter first, shooting her a grin. "Ready when you are."

"Brat." As if he hadn't been cheeky with her before. She shot him a look of her own, flicking her fingers and sending a few drops of water at him. She went back to scrubbing the first plate with a grin of her own.

"Did you used to scrub dishes when you were a recruit? Do you still have to do that in the Gallows now, even as Knight-Captain?"

He smirked at the name. Maker, when had anyone ever called him that? Possibly some childhood friends, definitely his mother a time or two. It was fun having room to show a side of himself that rarely came out to play.

"Did I ever. Recruits do everything, scrub dishes, cook, do laundry, clean out chamber pots." He made a face. "Fortunately, no. I left all of that behind me with the privilege of rank, although if I had my own kitchen I doubt I'd have servants. I'd never be home enough to justify the expense."

"Eugh," she muttered, passing him a plate to dry. She left her place to go back and pick up the empty bowl her dog was currently cleaning with his tongue, wet fingers rubbing between his ears. Returning to the basin, she set the bowl into the water and got back to work on the other plates.

"We wouldn't have had servants either, I suspect. Bethany and I never had any and it's been years since my mother had them. Maybe we'd hire someone to clean the house every so often," Hawke said thoughtfully. "Getting Bodahn and Orana was just dumb luck." And a bit of saving, but who was keeping track? "I'm guessing you eat whatever the recruits make, then?"

"Yes, well, builds character, right? By the end of it, I felt as though I had the best character in all of Thedas. I don't take for granted the work others do. I'll say that much." He shook his head. That had been his least favorite aspect of training, easily.

"It's a big enough house, I can see it being a justified expense in your case." He wouldn't have lived in a manor if he didn't stay quartered in the Gallows. "Every night except liver night. I conveniently find an elsewhere to be then."

"And you have to do it for, what, years?" She shook her head as well and gave him a sympathetic smile. "At least you don't have to do it any longer." Disgusting job that it was, she didn't wish it on any recruit or any servant.

She nodded, scrubbing at the bowl. "I'm grateful for them. Not just because of the work they do but because there's always someone here, if that makes sense." She had someone to field visitors before she needed to see them and she'd never really been alone when her mother died. Hawke chuckled softly and handed him the second plate when he was finished drying the first. "You can introduce them to seafood night, now."

"A few years, yes, although senior recruits don't do as much of that. By that time we're too busy preparing for our final tests before the Vigil." He set dishes aside as he finished drying them, careful in stacking them as he went.

"It does. I've never lived alone. I have privacy in my own quarters now, but there are still people all around. I don't know if I could take the quiet." He never had been able to imagine himself in a house by himself. It would stay empty so often it might as well be a ruin. It probably would become a ruin quickly enough. Buildings never seemed to do well left to their own devices. "I'll propose seafood night in place of liver night and see how that goes."

"Preparing for your tests and worrying about being eaten alive by your Knight-Commander, apparently," she said with a slight smile. She handed him the bowl at the last, shaking off her hands into the basin.

"I haven't either. This is the first time, though I suppose I can't say I'm truly living alone." It might have been different when they weren't true family but Hawke had a habit of picking up strays wherever she went, regardless of who they were. The diversity in her usual group spoke to that. She smiled. "If they don't change it, you can always sneak over here on liver nights."

"Knight-Commander Gregoir wasn't so bad," he said. "I wouldn't have wanted to be a recruit under Meredith. That's true enough, although I'm not sure I'd have been quite that ridiculous." He probably would have been. Who is he kidding?

He dried the bowl and set it with the rest of the stack. "It seems as though it would be quiet here. All the more incentive to get out and look for trouble." He adopted a mock shrewd look. "That sounds like incentive for me not to get them to change it. You'll ask me why I'm here so often, and I can say that I hate liver."

"Even I would be worried if I was her recruit. Possibly not because of any eating or smiting involved, though she seems the type capable of turning people to stone with a glance." She smiled sympathetically. "I would worry about forgetting something at the last moment and she'd know."

Hawke held out her hand for the towel. "Ah, and now you've discovered why I'm never home." Which would explain things now but not years past, of course. Her smile curled at the edges, bordering on wicked. "I was under the impression you wouldn't necessarily need an excuse to see me, eventually. But liver works just as good as any, I suppose."

"That's the impression she likes to give." His smile was amused enough that it was clear he wasn't often the recipient of that particular look. "Why have an argument when you can forestall it with the perfect glare?" It was a technique he had worked on himself through the years.

He folded it over once and handed it to her. "Can't stand the quiet, eh?" If that was even partially true, he could empathize. "It looks better, being smooth and nonchalant. 'Oh, yes, it's the liver, you see'. Although I could just as easily do it without the excuses, if you prefer." He held her gaze for a moment or two before looking away again. "I'm afraid I don't have much longer. The time flew."

"Oh, and I'm certain you give that same smile to your recruits when they ask 'Knight-Captain Cullen, do you think the Knight-Commander will go easy on us?' Poor recruits must be laying awake at night in utter terror at the two of you."

She took the towel to dry her hands quickly and she mopped up the few spots of water around the basin while she had a moment. "I can't, it's true," she agreed with a smile. "If you really needed an excuse, honestly. I don't know what would surprise my housemates more, that you'd be coming to escape a rotten meal in the Gallows or that I had invited you in the first place."

To his reminder that they had little time, she nodded. Her smile stayed firmly in place even as she pushed away her disappointment. "I know. Wouldn't want them sending out a search for you, right?"

"There's something to be said for a united front." In other words, he wasn't denying that at all and probably enjoyed it to some degree.

"Perhaps I should just show up and let you decide what you want to tell them. I think as long as I'm not in armor and flanked by a contingent, they won't assume I'm here to make an arrest or on official business." He didn't want to make her servants uncomfortable, no more than who he was might imply on its own. There was nothing he could do about that.

"We would definitely not want that." The thought of it was appalling for several reasons. He waited for her to finish up with the drying before reaching for her waist to draw her in close. "I had a splendid evening. No qualifiers." He wasn't going to allow the few bumps along the way to color how he thought of the date on the whole.

She was chuckling, both at the thought of him frightening his recruits and what her poor servants might do if he came in with several other Templars. "If you did, I don't think I'd have enough to feed them and I would kindly ask your fellow Templars to sod off because they weren't invited." She shrugged with a sly smile. "I'll think up a myriad of excuses just for you." She could pull them out when she needed to until someone found out what they were really up to.

Sidling into the draw of his arms, her hands went up to his shoulders with surprising ease. She settled on a more comfortable smile, nodding. "I did too. Thank you for getting everything together for us." It turned out all right in the end, even with the few complications.

He gave an easy laugh. "I have no trouble seeing you doing exactly that. Don't worry. I have no intention of ever bringing you uninvited guests." He hummed lightly under his breath. "I want to hear them when you do. It will help if we have our stories straight." Not to mention he imagined some of them would be amusing.

"It was my pleasure, truly." His smile settled warmly in his gaze. "Walk me to the door? We can make it a slow walk." It wasn't crunch time to the point that he'd need to run.

"So we don't make the mistake of 'We have crabs' again?" she asked, pinching his shoulder. "I'll write you a list and hand them off to you in the Gallows. All the excuses you'll ever need, starting with 'the Champion ordered me to do it' and ending with 'liver night'." With a few ridiculous ones thrown in there to see if he was reading.

"You're going to need to let me go if you're hoping to walk anywhere," she said, tilting her head up to kiss him briefly while she had the chance.

"Kind of you to say 'we' when you mean me," he said, still laughing. "Passing notes. That will feel positively clandestine. I like it."

The laughter eased off in the kiss. He spread his legs slightly to avoid stepping on her feet and attempted to walk her backward, one eye open to make sure he wasn't going to crash her into the counter or the table. He caught her lower lip between both of his and pulled back gently. "You sure about that?" he murmured.

"Better that you said something, all things considered. I might have said something uncouth and gotten us thrown out on the streets." She grinned. "Nothing says discreet like passing missives."

She kept her laughter muted against his lips as he started guiding her backwards, her steps carefully measured when she wasn't so distracted by the tug of her own lips. Her smile curved against his mouth. "Rising to the occasion. I like that." The next few steps were a tug on her part, her hands falling to his hips.

"As everyone wonders why we've suddenly taken to shaking hands every time we meet." The idea of it amused him far too much. He doubted most would take much note given they hardly garnered more than a few glances when they spoke these days.

"Isn't rising to the occasion what got us in trouble on the boat?" He grinned against her lips before ducking his head down slightly for the awful joke. That didn't last long. He was back to stealing kisses as they walked and speeding up a little to keep up with her tugging. He turned them slightly to the right to prevent from crashing into the doorway of the kitchen.

"I could keep up the facade of disliking your presence, if you'd prefer," she joked. "I could lodge it at your head and you could yell at me for littering. No one would suspect a thing."

She hummed softly, the sound lost when he went in for another press of lips. She slowed briefly and nipped him, breaking the kiss for just a moment. "That was trouble? I was under the impression we were being creative under the circumstances." She glanced behind her to be sure she wasn't going to bump into anything as they entered the living area.

"Exciting. I have to admit, if the stakes hadn't been quite so high, it would have been fun exchanging the glares in the Rose. It's an act that would be easy enough to maintain. It might make your friends less nervous, too." He never would have thought himself so quick to be sucked into intrigue. Then again, he never would have seen himself dating Hawke, so things had a way of changing quickly at times.

He made a soft sound for the nip, his eyes darkening slightly. "Could've been trouble if the boat rocked any harder," he murmured. Once they were through the doorway, he stopped their progress for a deeper kiss, his arms tightening.

"We didn't have time to practice what excuse we were going to use. That, and we ran into the guard." If no one had been there, they could have used the few moments they had to come up with something plausible. "Maybe I should only bring Sebastian and Fenris with me when I go to the Gallows. At least then I wouldn't be applauded for giving you trouble." She grinned, pleased he was responsive to her brand of mischief.

The chuckle bubbling in her throat died just as quickly, smothered by the kiss and the tighter wrap of his arms around her. She brought them flush together, content enough to follow his lead and deepen the kiss, her fingers squeezing his shoulders carefully, almost affectionately.

"You just want to see their expressions when you start to give me a hard time," he countered, very amused. He thought it might be fun, too. He knew Sebastian to a degree. It would be interesting to see how he took Hawke throwing things at a Templar.

He lingered with the kiss until he could feel the concern about the time once more intruding. It was harder to fight against the pull of the warm press of her, all too easy to make half baked excuses in his head about why he didn't make morning muster. He knew that was a way to get a stop put to things before they had the chance to start. Earning Meredith's ire would do them no favors. He pulled back but kept her in his arms, taking them closer yet to the front door.

"Possibly. But you have to admit, when the truth comes out, the looks on their faces will be absolutely priceless and utterly worth it." The only people she worried for would be Anders and Bethany. Her sister would probably not be too pleased.

When he drew away, she finally relented, letting him pull back. She shot him a brief grin, following his thought process well enough. If he was late, they'd have a harder time meeting again without suspicion. She sneaked in another brief kiss as they backed into the foyer, nearly at the door before turning her eyes to his. "Go on, before we make a very bad decision and come to regret it." She smiled impishly. "Even if it's sorely tempting to keep you here anyway."

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lovingvambrace - 2012-10-19 20:27 (UTC) - Expand

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