Title: Rhapsody in Ass Major – Chapter 1
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Anton Hawke ♂, Anders ♂, Fenris ♂, Varric ♂
Rating: T (L2 N2 S2 V1 D0)
Warnings: Sleep groping, gesticulating with swords, glowy blue motherfuckers, dick jokes
Notes: "Why does everyone keep saying ‘ass’?" said either Anton or the pile of blankets in his shape. The three brothers Hawke, and their ludicrous adventures in ass-grabbing good times.
The brothers Hawke had made a considerable investment in Bartrand’s venture. Sufficiently considerable that the brothers were able to bring their companions. It was, to say the least, not a small group, although one with a good deal more experience with darkspawn and Things That Should Not Be than the bulk of the caravan. They made good time, at least until they finally made it underground. The entrance to the thaig wasn’t small, but it was a good deal less space than one could find on the open road, which left the lot of them sharing but two tents, which were, at least, large, but encouraged a certain familiarity among their occupants.
As tended to be the case, Varric was among the first up. Strangely, though, Fenris wasn’t.
Varric took the time alone to properly care for Bianca, pulling out a scrap of cloth and oiling her down the way she liked. It was almost peaceful, in the morning quiet, if it weren’t for the stink of taint and the weight of stone around him. He had to be the only dwarf who hated the Deep Roads, and he told Bianca so.
A muffled curse broke the stillness, then a thud and a second, louder curse. Varric glanced over at Tent Number Two with eyes narrowed. He wasn’t surprised when the tent started glowing and mages started shrieking. Varric set down his cleaning supplies and put away Bianca.
"Guess it’s time to start the day."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Justice demanded, the blue blaze brightening, even outside the canvas walls.
Cormac grabbed Artemis and pulled him behind Anton, rolling their still-sleeping brother onto his side, to use as a bulwark against the Fade-glowing lyrium-delirium going on in the middle of the tent. Anton groaned half-heartedly and pulled the blankets up.
Blue and bluer circled each other, each waiting for the other to strike.
"What is the meaning?" Fenris sputtered. His hair was still flattened on one side from sleeping on it. "What is the meaning of waking up with your hand on my ass?"
"I DID NOT KNOW IT WAS YOUR ASS," Justice boomed. "IT WAS SOFT, LIKE A PILLOW. IT WAS AN EASY MISTAKE."
"My ass is not pillowy!" Fenris swore and scrabbled about for his sword.
Artemis looked sidelong at his brother (the non-snoring one). "We should probably stop them before someone loses a hand. Or worse."
"Before someone loses a dick," Cormac sighed, getting up. "If I get killed, does that count as you losing a dick?"
"NO. I WILL NOT. HE MEANS TO STAB ME."
"I do mean to stab him. He was touching my ass. Fondling it, even. There was a mage fondling my ass, and now I’m going to stab him," Fenris reasoned, still blinking the crust off his eyelids.
"You let my brother, the mage, touch your ass all the time, so don’t bring magic into it. You’ve got a nice ass, Fenris. He probably thought it was mine." Cormac grinned like nothing in the world was wrong, and rested his head on Justice’s shoulder. "Come back to bed, and we’ll get your hands on the right ass, this time."
Artemis let out a choked noise and made as though to duck behind Anton again. "There has been no touching of asses here," he said, ears flushing red. "Not between Fenris and me. Admiring of asses, sure, but—"
"It is much too early for all this talk of asses!" Fenris growled. He still had his sword in his hand.
"You have no say in this, Justice!" Fenris snapped, waving his sword again.
"You know what it’s also too early for?" Artemis said, scrambling to his feet and positioning himself dangerously between his two glowing companions. "Waving swords around. And glowing. Much too early for the glowing."
"It’s never too early for asses. Or swords of the less metallic and more fleshly variety. It’s definitely too early for the glowing, though." Cormac kept his hold on Justice, not sure it would do much good, but at least he could say he tried. Or someone could. "Stop glowing, my long, lean beauty. We’ll start the morning over. You and me, and a little less angry elf."
"I’m standing right here!" Fenris protested, flickering with annoyance. "Stand aside, mage. Your brother irritates me."
Justice opened his mouth, looking like he might say something that would start a war, so Cormac solved the problem as he solved so many problems, by applying his tongue. The resulting kiss was a somewhat drooly, teeth-clattering affair, in which Justice may have muttered a few things, but no one could quite make them out. Of all things it might be, romantic was not among them. Grotesque and dangerous were much more appropriate descriptions.
Artemis made a sound like he was choking back vomit. "Maker, they’re at it again," he groaned. He looked back at Fenris, who was staring at the kissing, half-glowy couple with that face, the one that looked like he was sucking on a lemon. At his sword was pointed at the ground. "Alright, Fenris. Let’s get you, me, and all our respective ‘swords’ out of this tent before they start…. ‘dueling’ with theirs."
Artemis made a shooing motion, which earned him an annoyed glance from the elf, even as he obeyed, muttering under his breath and dragging his sword behind him.
"Good morning," Varric chirped.
"Fuck off," was the less cheery reply.
Instead of Fade light, Anton’s snores filled the tent.
The next sunless morning saw a very different pile of bodies in the second tent. Fenris and his sword at the very outer edge, beyond Anton’s incredible ability to sleep through anything. On the other side of Anton, Artemis and Cormac were wrapped around Anders, who sprawled shamelessly between them. The idea, after all, was to keep the glowing and shouting to a minimum, from here in. That was the sort of thing that might attract darkspawn, and even with a Warden, no one wanted to take that chance. Especially the Warden.
Anders dreamt of his time on the run — the better parts of it — and a smile curled across his face, as he slipped an arm under the body on either side of him and firmly kneaded the asses of both brothers, without waking up. He made a small sound of pleasure as Cormac moved closer, wrapping a leg around his own.
Artemis curled into the warm body next to his, the arm he’d thrown around Anders’s waist tucking him closer. In the liminal state between waking and dreaming, he nuzzled under a stubbled chin, pressed back into the hand on his ass. Unfortunately he went from "almost" awake to "fully" awake in the middle of Anders’s next squeeze.
"Oh sweet Maker," Artemis breathed, freezing. He was cuddling. With Anders. With his brother’s… something . And that was definitely not his own hand on his ass.
Artemis stared at Anders’ chin and tried to figure out how he could wriggle out of this without waking him or Cormac. He tried to shimmy out from under Anders’ hand, but the bastard just squeezed him tighter.
Fuck it. "Anders," he hissed. "Anders ." He patted Anders’ cheek. "Wake up. Now."
Anders turned his head and pressed his lips against Artemis’s forehead. On the other side of him, Cormac’s hips began to roll, in time with the squeezes, and Cormac hovered in that mostly-asleep state between dreaming about doing Anders and actually doing Anders. His hands wandered, rubbing Anders’s chest and eventually stroking his brother’s arm.
Showing absolutely no sign of waking up, Anders made a few small, warm sounds, inviting more of everything he could get, as he kissed Artemis, again, this time on the eyelid. His nightshirt was not heavy enough to conceal the state he was in, as Cormac’s thigh rubbed against him.
Artemis felt his cheeks flush up to his hairline. There was a body against his, a warm hand on his ass pressing him against a warm thigh. It had been too long since anyone had touched Artemis like this, and Anders smelled nice , like elfroot and embrium and the Fade, earthy and ethereal and masculine all at once.
"Maker, you’re worse than Anton," he muttered, shoving Anders’s hand away before his… condition became more obvious. He scrabbled back and away, feeling cold for the loss. "Wake up, you twits!" he shouted, the dreamy contentment he’d woken to thoroughly ruined.
Fenris shot bolt upright, clutching his sword. "What?"
He blinked, squinting at Artemis, then at the walls of the tent. There were no unusual sounds, no fighting, no screaming. Except for Artemis.
On the other side of the tent, Anders and Cormac failed to get up, scrabbling at each other, cracking their heads, and pulling each other back down, over and over. "Maker’s balls, Artemis! It can’t be but dawn! What is with the shouting?" Cormac snarled, having just been awoken, in quite a condition, from a very lovely dream.
Anders finally gave up and stayed flat. "Why am I awake?"
Anton just groaned and pulled the pillow over his head.
"To my credit, I tried less shouty methods of waking your boyfriend first," Artemis groused. His glare was hampered by a yawn he smothered with his fist.
"That doesn’t answer my question," Anders said.
"You’re awake because there are still indentations in the shape of your fingers on my ass."
Anders’s eyes widened. "What?"
From the other side of the tent came a strange rumbling sound. It took Artemis a moment to realize that it was Fenris laughing.
"Some people sleep walk," Artemis ranted. "Some talk in their sleep. Some steal the covers. But habitually groping asses is a new one for me."
"To be fair, it’s a very nice ass. Nice asses run in your family," Anders rambled, still trying to get his brain to work.
Cormac grinned across Anders at his brother. "Do you see why I like this man? Entirely after my own heart. Or after my ass. Which is also an amazing and excellent pursuit."
"Pursuing your ass seems like a contradiction in terms," Fenris threw in. "You have a tendency to offer it so freely."
"Why wouldn’t I? Someone’s got to get the glory of the old Hawke ass out in public!" Cormac declared, springing to his feet, knob bobbing against the front of his nightshirt a few times, while a touch of disconsolation gnawed at the edges of his arrogant good cheer, and a faint flush crept along the line of his jaw. He coughed and dived for his clothes.
"The splendidness of my or Cormac’s ass was never in question," Artemis replied, even as he made that ‘I’m going to vomit’ face again. "Though I wager I could beat his ass, in more ways than one."
"Why does everyone keep saying ‘ass’?" said either Anton or the pile of blankets in his shape.
"Don’t worry, Anton. Your ass is admirable, too." Anders offered the blankets a wink. The blankets slithered closer to the edge of the tent, crowding a now-disgruntled and still-armed Fenris against the canvas.
"Anyway," Artemis sighed rubbing his forehead. He reached for his trousers, hooking a toe through a belt-loop and sliding them towards him, so he wouldn’t have to stand and show off his knob the way his brother had. "We’re all awake now. Good morning." He slipped on his pants and avoided eye-contact with Anders.