Jul 122015
 

Title: Brotherly Love: 9:23 Dragon
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Cormac Hawke , Artemis Hawke , Anton Hawke , Malcolm Hawke
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D1)
Warnings: Smut, prostitutes, gambling, ridiculous drunkenness
Notes: Cormac’s 20, Artie’s 18, Anton’s 16 (and such a dick). Drunk in public, pantsless in public, picked up by the guard.


The man was a knight from Redcliffe, Cormac thought, or at least that was the impression he’d gotten from the guy trying not to give too much away, while passing through this little outpost that was the last proper village on the Imperial Highway. Really, it meant they got all sorts of people who were bored at the end of a long loop, and couldn’t wait to get back to civilisation, proper. In practise, it meant there was never a shortage of faces that passed through once a year, at most, and could be exploited for a night’s good time, before they got back on the road.

And Cormac was very much in it for the good time, that night, pressed against the back wall of the bar, between cases of wine that hadn’t been hauled down to the cellar, yet. It was a crisp evening, and he wasn’t yet sure that trousers had been the correct choice, as they were much harder to deal with in a hurry, but he hadn’t come out to do this, tonight, and yet, here he was, trying very, very hard not to scream like he wanted to. This was much too close to far too many people, for that. But, he still panted against the brick, biting his lips and trying not to breathe too deep, lest the next sound be much louder than he meant.

Wine bottles rattled, drawing the attention of the couple already having a good time on the other side of the cases. Artemis’s foot knocked against them, sending them rattling again, as he wrapped his legs around the waist of his newest acquaintance. And what was his name again? Something starting with an ‘L’, he thought as his hands roamed over a muscled back. Artie pressed a finger to his lips and shushed the wine bottles, earning him a chuckle from what’s-his-name.

And this was better than wine, Artemis decided, as ‘L’ pounded into him just the way he liked, hard enough for the brick to scrape at his back, pinning Artie to the wall with a hand on his neck.

"Hawke," a voice sighed, from a little closer to the hill behind the bar than either of the brothers were, and a clank of chainmail could be heard. "Oh, Maker. Two Hawkes."

Cormac twisted to look over his shoulder and the knight’s. "Jinzy! I… ah… Well. This… this is exactly what it looks like." The rest of the sentence sunk in slowly. "What do you mean ‘two Hawkes’? There’s only one of me." He hoped. The last time he’d checked.

The guard rubbed her face and then pointed to the other side of the stack of crates.

"Andraste’s ass. Anton? Is that you?" Cormac swatted the knight off him, hopelessly tugging at his trousers with one hand as he leaned around the crates to find the brother he wasn’t expecting.

"You know I’m going to have to take all of you in, for the night, right?" The guard sounded terribly put upon. "I don’t care how drunk you are, you can’t just drop your pants in the middle of town, and you know better. Both of you know better. I’m surprised at you, Artie!"

"You really shouldn’t be," Artemis insisted, the finger he pointed at her swaying. He looked down at where ‘L’ still had him propped up against the wall. "Can we at least finish first?"

"No!" Jinzy sputtered, chainmail clanking as she threw out her arms. "Now put your feet on the ground and put on some pants!"

Artie looked forlornly at ‘L’ as his feet touched down. "Cormac? Cormac, could you help me find my pants. I know they’re around here somewhere…"

"Oh, for the love of…" Jinzy swore under her breath and kicked a crumpled pair of trousers in Artie’s direction. "I don’t care if they’re yours or not. Just put them on. There are some things I didn’t need to see tonight."

Cormac squeezed himself back into his own trousers, which were still stuck halfway down his thighs, as the knight he’d been with appeared to debate the wisdom of running off into the night.

"Don’t do it," Jinzy warned. "You’re wearing plate. It’s not going to end well for you."

Instead, the knight bent down to gather the few pieces he’d had to take off to make this work, buckling them back on. "How bad is this going to be?" he asked, just shy of whining. "I’m supposed to set off at dawn. The company’s going to be waiting for me. We’re supposed to make it back to Redcliffe by tomorrow."

"As long as you’re sober at dawn, I’m sure you’ll make it." Jinzy shook her head and prodded the four of them closer together, leading them back to the outpost, which had a few cells. "Of course, there’s still the fines to consider. Pantsless in public? That’s twenty silver right there."

She put the Hawkes in the leftmost cell and their companions on the far right. No sense in letting them get up to even more, between the bars, which … knowing Cormac, she wouldn’t put past him.

"Aw, come on, Jinzy! Last year it was you and me in the same spot on the wall!" Cormac complained.

"And another ten silver because you can’t keep your mouth shut." Jinzy jabbed a finger at Cormac, as she wrote up the fines for the guard reading a book at the desk. "Let them out when they sober up, but make sure they pay up," she said. "I’m going back out."

Artemis groaned, letting his head thunk against the bars as he tried to straighten out his pants, which he suspected he might have put on backwards. "Well, this is embarrassing," he muttered. "What if Dad finds out? What if Mum finds out? She makes the waspspawn look friendly when she’s mad." Artie took a moment to look around the cell, one hand still fiddling with his pants, and started to notice how terribly dirty it was in here. A high-pitched whine caught in his throat. "Locking me in here with no means to clean? Now this is just cruel."

Artie made sad eyes at the guard behind the desk and considered asking to borrow a mop.

Hours passed, and very little changed aside from the frequency of Artie’s complaints about his lack of a mop. Cormac had been healing himself fairly continuously for almost an hour, when the door opened, and two women stepped in. They worked the tavern, Cormac knew, and he also knew better than to cut in front of either of them for a traveller with a pretty face. They got paid, so they had dibs. And as that thought faded out, another figure came into focus between them.

"Fenwick! Are you in or not?" Anton asked, cards leaping between his hands as he shuffled them in some way that made Cormac’s stomach roll. "The ladies and I have been waiting for you for an hour! So, we decided to bring the party to you and see what the hold up is."

The guard at the desk pointed at the cells behind him. "Ask your brothers."

Cormac leaned forward, face in his hands. "Hey, Anton, spot me half a sovereign?"

Anton paused mid-shuffle and choked off a laugh. "Cormac? What did you do this time?" Anton heard a second familiar voice swearing under his breath, and he peered around the desk to see Artie sitting sullenly in the same cell. "Artie? Of course, it would be both of you. And drunk, by the looks of it. This? This is my surprised face." Anton gestured at his face, which looked more amused than surprised. "So what did you do?" Without waiting for a response, he turned back to Fenwick. "What did they do? Did it involve bulls?"

"Public indecency," Fenwick answered, "so I hope not."

"Both of you?"

"Yes," Artie muttered, "and no one was more surprised than I was."

"Except maybe me," Cormac sputtered. "Behind Dane’s? Really? I kind of expected more from you. It’s filthy back there." Cormac sighed and looked up at Anton. "Seriously, though, spot me fifty silver so we can get out of here. You know I’m good for it."

"Well, here’s the thing. If I spot you fifty silver, you two just walk right out of here like nothing happened. It all just fades away." Anton grinned and smacked the deck onto the guard’s desk. "Or, I could just go get mum."

"But, Tony!" one of the girls complained. "If you get your mum, we’re not going to have a game tonight!"

"But, Lucinda!" Anton teased. "My brothers are in a prime position they will never live down, which might be worth it!" He tipped his head and squinted at his brothers. "I’ll tell you what. Why don’t the three of you get started, and I’ll be back with a decision in half an hour. Any way this goes, my brothers are probably going home, or at least they’re not going to be here wrecking my concentration in the middle of the game."

"Anton?" Artemis rolled to his knees, pressing himself against the bars. "Don’t you dare, Anton!" But his wide-eyed, pleading look only made Anton grin wider.

"Back in half an hour," Anton replied, waving his fingers at his brothers. "Try not to get yourself into more trouble in the meantime. At least wait until I’m here to laugh at it."

He left, whistling cheerfully. The two ladies grabbed a pair of seats, and Fenwick started to deal.

Artemis’s forehead thunked against the bars again. And he really had to stop doing that. Who knows how many people had touched these bars? Unsanitary. "Can I go back to being drunk?" he groaned.

The next set of footsteps through the door was definitely not their mother’s. Thankfully. Still, Cormac was not exactly thrilled to see his father on the other side of the bars.

"Artemis? Really?" Malcolm rubbed his face in a way that was meant to suggest frustration, but did little to hide the laugh he was trying to stifle.

"Why is no one surprised I’m in here?" Cormac asked, offence clear on his face. He was, at least, finally something like sober.

"Cormac, the day I’m surprised you’ve been arrested is the day you should suspect I’ve been replaced by a demon," Malcolm pointed out, reaching into his pouch for a handful of coins. "How much will they cost me, today?" he asked Fenwick.

"Twenty silver, each, for, ah… Let’s just say Lothering’s not a trousers-optional town. And another ten because Jinzy says Cormac needs to learn to shut his mouth." Fenwick held up the page. "And she wrote that down, too."

"Do I want to know why neither of you was wearing trousers, tonight?" Malcolm asked, counting coins onto the desk.

"I could say it was because I was wearing a robe, but that’s obviously not the case," Cormac grumbled. "Look, I’m just as surprised at Artie as you are. You know why I didn’t have any pants on, which isn’t even true, because I definitely had them on. On my legs even. Just… maybe not all the way on. Does it even matter? I went out for a drink! The next thing I know, I’m in a cell with my brother, who didn’t even come out with me, and what were you even doing at Dane’s, Artie? It’s the middle of the week! I thought you only did Dane’s on the weekend!"

"I wanted a drink," Artie muttered. "I wanted a drink and a…" He flushed. "Well, you know."

Malcolm looked profoundly entertained. "You remind me of some men I used to know, up north. The last I checked, one had one leg and three children, and the other lost some unfortunate essentials to an angry woman and a Rivaini trout."

Lucinda laughed, covering her mouth with her cards.

"I want Anton home by dawn, Lucy," Malcolm said, pointing a finger at the cackling prostitute.

"Yes, ser!" she promised around a laugh as Fenwick gathered up Malcolm’s coins.

Fenwick took his time fiddling with his keys before letting the boys out. "Get a room next time," he told them, holding the cell door open. "Or two rooms."

Head bowed and face sullen, Artemis shuffled out of the cell, one hand still holding up his trousers as he approached Malcolm. "Can we pretend this never happened?" he asked weakly, not quite able to meet his father’s eyes.

Malcolm chuckled, patted Artie’s back and squeezed his shoulder. "Not a chance!" he said brightly. Artie groaned.