Dragon Age Lovers- Lovebirds
Branching out from my usual pairings and trying something new. A loose companion piece to this one but certainly don’t need to be read together. Enjoy!
Merrill was already halfway to drunk by the time Hawke came to the Hanged Man, so then she had to stay for another few rounds of drinks, which was how she ended up good and drunk and all over Isabela.
Merrill always got extra touchy-feely after drinking, not that Isabela particularly minded. Her head was on Isabela’s shoulder and her hand on Isabela’s leg underneath the table, but Merrill was probably too drunk at this point to realize that her touch on Isabela’s bare thigh was slowly driving her mad. Isabela loved Merrill’s hands. Petite, somehow always soft, with those graceful fingers that were always painted, and Isabela secretly loved the way their hands fit together just as much as she loved the way her hands fit holding Isabela’s tits. Shit, she was getting sentimental, maybe she was drunk too.
Isabela had one arm around Merrill’s side, after the elf had all but demanded it, but kept her other hand free to hold her drink before Merrill could steal it too in her cuddliness. The boys were all looking at her with amusement, the way they always did when was lovey-dovey with Merrill. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Hawke sipped his drink innocently. Right, like he had any room to judge with the pining looks he and Fenris were always giving each other.
“Oh, we’re just admiring the lovebirds,” Varric chuckled and Fenris smirked. Isabela glared daggers at the dwarf. “It’s sickening, really. How sweet you can be with her.”
“She’d be a seagull,” Merrill chirped happily, then hiccuped. “If we were birds. Wait, do birds even fall in love?”
“Are you sure you didn’t give her the hard stuff?” Hawke asked.
“No, I didn’t give her the hard stuff, she’s just a lightweight. You know that.”
“I’m only a little buzzed,” Merrill protested, holding her pointer finger and thumb an inch apart. She hiccuped again.
Isabela couldn’t help smiling. She was adorable, especially drunk and cuddly like this. “No, Kitten, you’re pretty drunk.”
“Isabela would be an albatross,” Fenris drawled. “And Merrill would be a sparrow.”
“Oh, Broody, that’s perfect. Can I use that?”
“No, no, all bird metaphors have been banned, remember?” Hawke frowned.
Varric sighed dramatically and Merrill giggled. “You can’t ban bird comparisons when your name is Hawke!”
“That’s exactly why they’re banned-- and because you can’t be trusted. No bird metaphors.”
“Oh come on, Hawkey,” Isabela grinned. She wasn’t keen on being called an albatross, or a lovebird, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease Hawke. “What’s the harm?”
“Yeah, Rivaini can’t even make it dirty!” Varric gestured emphatically with his mug. He really didn’t think that statement through, did he?
“That sounds like a challenge.” She took a swig of ale and grinned wickedly. “Woodpeckers, for starters, nothing else needs to be said there. Let’s see, what else--”
“Hummingbirds have really long tongues,” Merrill interrupted. “So, you know, they’d be really good at--”
Fenris choked on his drink and Isabela just laughed. Hawke glared at Varric, who looked shameful and even a little mortified. “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Me? I wasn’t the one who corrupted her!”
“But you started the bird thing!”
“You did,” Isabela jumped on the chance to deflect any blame from herself. “Calling us lovebirds and all. That’ll teach you.”
“I thought it was cute.” Merrill seemed ignorant of Varric’s surprise from what she’d almost said, or maybe just ignored it. She nuzzled further into Isabela’s neck and shoulder, and she nearly jumped when Merrill slid her hand from where it had been still on Isabela’s thigh for so long to her knee instead. “I like being a lovebird with you.”
“That’s because you’re drunk.” Isabela ignored the heat that rose to her face and took a long drink. She squeezed Merrill’s shoulder in lieu of saying anything else in reply.
“Like when you call me Kitten more, though.” Merrill mumbled it against Isabela’s skin, so maybe the others hadn’t heard. Isabela leaned her head against Merrill’s. Dammit, she liked this girl so much.
Hawke looked at Merrill who practically had her face buried in Isabela’s neck at this point and shook his head. “Merrill, you should go home. Looks like you’re about to fall asleep on Isabela.”
“She’s makes a good pillow though. But maybe you’re right.” Merrill lifted her head and stopped leaning on Isabela to stand up, but wobbled then fell back into her seat. “Oh dear.”
“I’ll walk her home,” Isabela sighed. “Come on, Kitten.” She stood and finished off the rest of her drink.
“You don’t need to walk me home,” Merrill argued, just for the sake of proving a point. “I’m perfectly capable.” She stood and managed to keep her feet this time, but still swayed.
Varric shook his head. “Daisy, you can get lost under the best circumstances. I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” He winked at Isabela.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks for the drinks, boys. See you around.”
Goodbyes echoed around the table, and as they walked out, Isabela reached to hold Merrill’s hand and received a loving squeeze in return. Isabela suddenly made up her mind and decided that she in fact didn’t want to lovebirds-- birds couldn’t hold hands like this.
