Who: Lina & Pete, with Hawke & Isabela What: Annual Christmas Dinner is officially cursed with smooches When: During the mistletoe extravaganza Where: A steakhouse Rating/Warnings: Language because they're all awful people Status: Complete!
Few things would let Hawke distract his attention from his mother, her time on this twisted planet limited to Maker knows how long but she had insisted she needed some privacy with Gamlen. A heart to heart talk between siblings, and Leandra hoped to make amends - their relationship had been turbulent, and before things could properly be patched up between the two it was too late. But it was alright, really, it’d give him the perfect window to commit to what was an annual tradition between couples - him and his piratey queen, sitting across from Mr. and Mrs. Wisdom.
White table linens, festive candle centerpieces, silverware rolled in cloth and ice water served in wine glasses. It was a lovely steakhouse, pricy but the quality was very much worth it. They had a grand time last time despite the, ah, rude interruption (which was Wisdom’s tongue in his mouth), and he hoped lightning wouldn’t strike at the same spot twice.
Because this time, he’d be really convinced Wisdom wanted to have some smoochies with him.
Hawke was dressed well, yet somehow there was still something so very casual about him - there was no tie, just a mostly buttoned shirt and a blazer he rarely wore but the occasion called for it. His beard was neatly trimmed to help assure no crumbs would get caught in it; his bloody facial hair was not a net for spare snacks, thank you.
A velvety, dark wine was at the table to be partnered with their future steaks, and this time at least all of them could partake. A certain wee firestarter baking in the sorceress’ oven had prevented Lina from boozing it, although a sip of the fermented grape juice reminded her she would always not like wine, and settled with a nice, crisp beer instead.
“So,” the redhead traced the rim of her glass with her fingertips, squinting at them. “I think we can all agree Pete and I shat ourselves - metaphorically, anyway - when you two showed up with…your mom???” The fuck? Well, it was good to see her again; Leandra wanted to meet the little girl she had started the blanket for, and of course that had fueled the fever for eventual grandchildren. “How long does this thing last?”
Excuse, but it was Hawke who had his tongue in Wisdom’s mouth - or at least, Pete would insist on that until the day he shuffled off the mortal coil. Likely from the beyond as well. He was also still traumatised from having to snog Vakarian thanks to trolling mistletoe, and lightning better not strike place in literally the same place when it came to this restaurant. Otherwise he’d burn it to the ground, that was all he was saying.
There was wine, but he also asked for a fine whiskey - something smoky and woody, very robust, because he had a feeling he’d need it. He sipped it casually, looking like he was posing for a Gucci ad in the impeccable suit he was wearing, with an arm draped over the back of Lina’s chair. Admiral raider Isabela had settled for a cocktail dress, with a cream underlay that hugged her like snakeskin, and a bright red lace over top. Everything was amazing in red - a killer pair of heels, fancy hats, the blood of her enemies. Things like that.
“We did some shitting as well,” she responded cheerfully. “In a good way, of course! But, oh, I’m not certain how long it lasts?” Bela glanced at Hawke. “Last year I had a beach mansion until just after Christmas, so perhaps something like that.”
“Amelia seems to like her,” Pete chimed in. “Closest thing to a grandmum on my side of the family, anyway.” His own mother would never get to meet the baby - but then again, Pete’s feelings about his mother were complicated at best.
It was nice to be in clothing that wasn’t stained with baby secretions, wasn’t it? It was a slate sweater dress for Lina (with a cowl neck, it felt like a soft scarf), complete with a black belt and heeled boots - together the outfit was fairly classy, but comfortable, which was always the goal with clothing. “Damn,” she breathed, moving her hand over Pete’s knee to idly stroke with her thumb at the comment of...well, his mother. “I didn’t think that whole wish thing reached that resurrection spectrum - it’s definitely a first?”
“A friend of mine’s brother returned the same way, though unaware of what had happened to him,” Hawke sipped the glass of merlot; smelled like plum, but the taste to him was more vanilla than anything. “A blessing, perhaps? Right now she and my uncle are sorting their sordid sibling complications out while the chance is presented. I think it will end well, and the probability of Gamlen toning down the amount of blow he does seems high. A Christmas Miracle, indeed, all around. Cheers.”
All he cared about was that Leandra’s time with them was happy. Closure for his mother, time with her family, being home again. Maker help the fucker who ruined it. “But, yes, seeing her with Amelia was bloody precious despite the expectant look she was giving Bela and myself.”
Closure seemed to be the theme of the holiday season, given that the gift of resurrection had also been given to someone else. Wisdom was pretty surprised, but just goes to show that he thought he had this county somewhat figured out - and then it had to go and throw him for a loop again. Better than sucking up his now-wife into the abyss again though, thanks very much. He didn’t think he could go for a repeat in that regard.
“Cheers indeed,” he rumbled, clinking his glass against Hawke’s. Bela did too, sipping her wine - she could go for rum, or a beer, or fermented grapes. Honestly, this pirate would imbibe damn near any kind of alcohol she could get her lightning-quick hands on. “I’m glad that she gets to work things out - with her brother, with all of you,” Pete continued. He covered Lina’s hand and squeezed it gently. “No chance of crotchlings on the horizon then?”
Isabela just about snorted her next sip of wine. She wanted a bloody steak, literally. Maybe lobster, buttery and decadent - or both, surf and turf. That’d be the only way she could get through a conversation about reproducing. “I don’t want to share him quite yet,” she winked, patting her hubby in the general vicinity of his balls - how much she adored those jewels! Of course she’d need them someday, just not right now. “Maker’s cock, we’re still in the honeymoon stage, I think.”
Lina just about snorted, too, but with giggles - Bela’s reaction. Oh, she was so grinning at their expense. Hawke even looked a little flustered! That didn’t happen often, considering the blood mage prefered to be on the side of doing the flustering with his whack comments. “Nahhh, no rush, you guys have time,” she waved. “Ours was a weirdly timed oops. The happiest, cutest, stinkiest oops there ever fucking was, though.”
“Busted a load at the right time, right place, didn’t you, mate?” Garrett winked at Wisdom. Timing and placing for making spawn was crucial; one could not get pregnant by getting jizz on the tits, welcome to Biology 101. “We’re currently big, big fans of birth control - but one day, in the future, and I hope the old wive’s tale of twins skipping a generation is true.”
Maybe he shouldn’t jinx their chances of twins with Isabela’s hands so close to his fertile cobblers, but.
Not to worry, darling, Isabela wasn’t about to cause damage to her husband’s yam bag. But twins, oh please. That sounded like a nightmare in the flesh, lasting for nine months and then eighteen fucking years. “You really did just jinx us, didn’t you?” she side-eyed him with a laugh. “But yes, blowing a load at the most opportune time - when the stars and genitals align - is how people have babies, love.”
“Lina just returned from the dead - or I thought she was dead, even if it was just a holiday in the void - so birth control was essentially the last thing either of us were concerned about,” Pete smirked, sipping his whiskey. Indeed, it was true - who had time to rummage for a rubber when you were so eager to fuck as soon as you walked in the door? “Ah, well. It happens when it happens. Whenever you both are ready.”
Bela wasn’t sure if she’d be ready anytime soon, but she was glad that she had the time to think about it and decide - as in, she wasn’t expected to be a baby factory, like her mum would want.
Yeeeeep. Hard to really think about being responsible anyway after that fiasco. All’s well that ends well, right? From getting crapped out of the Void after being (indirectly) responsible for the world almost unraveling, then knocked up immediately after - it’d been a lot, but she had always been a very ‘go with the flow’ person. “Cheers to that,” Lina smirked, bumping her glass of ale into her husband’s whiskey.
“See, aren’t you glad we didn’t get that luck after my almost death?” Hawke joked and nudged Bela like the shit he was. “We’re lucky are dreams seem mostly done, though, but hers was all tits up with me supposedly being death with them. I can’t foresee any other awful surprises come our way.”
Famous last words, though!
But, hmmm. He stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “Wonder what my chances are of bursting out of the Fade like that Koolaid Man there?” Probably not likely. He was resourceful, though, and scrappy, and a handsomely roguish cockroach Thedas wouldn’t see the last of in any version.
“Bite your tongue!” Bela huffed, flicking Hawke on the arm - at least it wasn’t to his jewels, so that was kind of her, wasn’t it? But just for that, she was ordering the most expensive thing available - surf and turf, there we go, some buttery lobster and a medium rare filet. Menu handed back to the waiter, she daintily picked up her wine glass and took another sip. “Who knows, love, I’m sure it’s not the end for you - if dream you makes it back to dream me, I may even be persuaded to settle down a little. I’d say we earned it by then.”
They were both getting a little long in the tooth, her and Hawke, but they still looked fabulous - and Isabela actually wanted a future that wasn’t completely rife with chaos. A little was appreciated to keep things interesting, but no more Darkspawn (in any form) would be appreciated. Seemed nice, didn’t it?
For Pete, it was a steak too - also practically still mooing, because as much as he enjoyed fire he didn’t like eating charcoal. “Funny how all our dream worlds are filled with war and destruction, isn’t it?” he snorted. “I’d love to meet someone who dreams of a life filled with sewing circles and trips to the grocer.”
Well, duh, steaks for all - might as well give the petite sorceress a cow (topped with garlic and lump crabmeat) on a plate with a fork and knife, thank you, and she had emphasized on the very loaded part of her baked potatoes (because she’d get a second side of carbs, who cared about the extra charge?). The ‘don’t skimp on the bacon’ had also come out as threat, and the waiter was eager to move on to the bearded fellow who, at the very least, seemed to have manners.
“At least you dreamt of actual plumbing, Wisdom, so do count your blessings,” Hawke smirked after he rubbed that tender spot his wife unnecessarily wounded. Honestly, love! Was that necessary? Anyway, yes, toss a fourth steak into that heap of orders with a side of collard greens or whatever. “Imagine you in a world without dry cleaning, what would happen to that impeccable wardrobe?”
Lina tried not to snort. “Wear a potato sack, still make it look like it belongs on some pretentious fashion cover.” Seriously. Look at the man - the only time they matched was when they were covered in Amelia’s goop. “Only man I’d lovingly wreck wearing one, though.”
Hmmm. Garrett’s eyes flickered briefly to the side; something had caught his attention, something so beautifully and dastardly festive and a pain in his arse, but he didn’t seem alarmed. Probably because it didn’t seem to be headed in his direction, and his gaze met Pete’s.
There was an eyebrow waggle.
“Stop making eyes at my husband, you weirdo.”
Pete would argue that the bearded fellow did not have manners, in fact. He’d be saving some of those collard greens in his beard for a leafy snack later on, wouldn’t he. “Well, luckily I only dreamt of humanity and mutants constantly at odds and our complete and utter decimation as a race thanks to a woman who went off the rails and happened to have omnipotent reality-warping power,” he stated grandly, picking up his glass to salute that train of thought. “So I’ll leave the chamber pots and brothels to you, mate.”
He had to wonder why Hawke was ‘making eyes’ at him though - oh, wait, why wonder? It was something that happened regularly. Wink. Isabela caught it too, though she was mostly flicking an inquisitive gaze back and forth between the two men. “Are you picturing him naked??” she asked her scruffy spouse. “Not at the table, Maker’s breath.”
But then Wisdom got it. And started chuckling. “Is this restaurant cursed, or are we?”
A rhetorical question before the ‘festive’ holiday delight reared its red-and-green head, dangling over a certain pirate and sorceress. Bela was spurned to action. She bopped up very impressively, on a single-minded goal to plant a bloody fantastic holiday kiss on Mrs. Wisdom - twisty tongue and all!
Fortunately, Pete had gotten a picture on his phone since Hawke was so kind enough to tip him off to the approach of blighted mistletoe. Ho, ho, ho.
Lina’s guess was that he was probably picturing Pete naked, maybe, or was just making faces for the sake of getting a rise out of him - which was something he did enjoy doing - so she hadn’t suspected a damn thing, didn’t even see the trolling plant come around because it was too late.
There was tongue in her mouth. Pirate tongue. And as these things go, well, there was that overwhelming urge to return return it without hesitation. Fervor, beer dropped to the floor so her fingers could be in Bela’s hair, totally normal even if the wolf whistles from excited restaurant patrons clambered around them. It fucked off eventually, that stupid fucking mistletoe, and that’s when control was regained and those ruby eyes went wide and realized her little bit of lipstick was smudged on the rogue.
“I need another beer,” she blurted.
Hawke found it quite funny up until there were a couple lecherous stares on them. Really, what kind of establishment was this! “Go back to your dinners and find something else to whack off to,” he scowled. They listened. Otherwise he wasn’t going to be polite the second time, and then came the grin. “Ahh, justice. So happy to see you two experienced this grand event.”
Oh, fuck off, you nosy twats. Wisdom’s glare matched the aggressiveness of Hawke’s impressive scowl. This wasn’t a porno being filmed at the restaurant - instead, the dream of that image was deflated when both ladies seemed to realise what the hell just happened.
“Balls,” Bela spat, looking at Lina, then Hawke, then the spilled beer (RIP delicious ale), then back at Hawke again. “Well, that was fun but less so because of mistletoe assault!” It actually was kind of annoying when she didn’t get to sit back and laugh at someone else being the unfortunate recipient. Funny how that worked!
“You need a new telly, you need a new beer - do you always ask for new things when you’re flustered?” Pete quipped, but he did flag the waiter down (and his look clearly read ‘say something inappropriate about my wife and I’ll twist your nutsack into tissue paper) to order another alcoholic beverage.
Isabela finished off her wine in one gulp. “Sorry, darling,” she felt the need to emphasise her next point. “I don’t usually go around snogging other people.”
Hawke had to laugh, he really did, now that they didn’t have much of an intrusive audience gawking at his lady (only he could gawk, and alright, he supposed Wisdom too considering his wife had snogged his so whatever). “It’s not so awful when you at least know the person? You can bask in the mutual feeling of violation, together, it’ll be a beautiful girl-bonding moment.”
Guh. Lina’s cheeks had flushed pink then upped a couple notches to red. “Yeah, I do, actually, you wanna fight about it??” That’s when she swiped his whiskey to down for that taste of something stronger. It’s not like she hadn’t kissed another lady before (a drunk thing in the past, nothing serious), but the attention gleaned put her in an awkward spot where only two things would make her feel better: a drink, or violence.
And considering she was trying to behave and not add ‘reputable steakhouse’ to her list of Things Destroyed, she’d settle on the drink. For now.
Chuckling still, Garrett pressed a kiss against Isabela’s cheek. “Is it an awful time to tell you two that it was caught on camera?”
“That’s right, it was. But you’ll look back at the picture later and laugh,” Pete assured, patting Lina’s leg under the table. Then her beer had arrived, just in time for him to have to ask for another whiskey to replace the one she just imbibed like a champion in her own right.
“Perhaps we’ll put it on Christmas cards next year,” Isabela winked, and alright, she supposed that the whole experience wasn’t going to put her into therapy or anything - in fact, she’d probably look back and laugh too. When she was drunk.
Luckily with the fresh whiskey came the food, and that always tended to mollify Pete’s rather explosive spouse too, he thought. Besides, they were all hungry, and being here meant they could enjoy a good meal and share a guffaw about how fucked up this county was for the holidays every year - more like 365 days a year, but anyway.
A picture. A picture. Lina shook her head, face still ablaze, but the booze (and fooooooood) was here to soothe her so she’d survive. “If it was some Random Joe or Jane this place would be evacuated by now,” she shrugged and looked to Bela. “That lipstick doesn’t look bad on you, though. I’ll let you know what the color is if you want it?”
Oh, hell, that was on her, wasn’t it? Garrett brought a cloth napkin to her mouth to help remove the evidence - he was her mirror, he was helping. “How can we choose, then, between you two making love to each other’s faces and Meredith with Snapchat pictures?!”
Oops! Isabela swatted at Garrett’s hand, because what if she liked looking all debauched? Alright, not really, but this lipstick didn’t mesh with her own (and hers was kissproof, actually - helpful for Lina now) since it was a fire engine red, and nothing tied an outfit together better than a fantastic lipstick. She pursed those beestung lips and hummed. “Well, thank you, kitten! I’m all for makeup recommendations, and swapping more than spit.”
Honestly, Hawke, making love to each other’s faces. Pete rolled his eyes. “That sounds godawful,” he pointed out. “Though I’m certain your friends and family will appreciate the evidence of mistletoe assault over a dried out skeletal corpse, as a morning surprise.”
What an unbelievable troll, wasn’t he lucky to just be so loveable? Ha.
“We’re prettier to look at,” was Lina’s response to that whole Christmas card debate, except it was muffled from all loaded taters she’d stuffed in her mouth - because fuck you, she was a lady, and still very much pretty even while looking like a piglet.
Bugger. Hawke was really looking forward to it, too. “I don’t know, I thought the flower filter really helped her complexion,” he thoughtfully voiced, like it was truly something of great importance to contemplate. “But on the bright side none of our friends and family would use it as fapping material, so I suppose it’s safe.”
Except his uncle.
Gamlen was then officially axed off the list.
“Oh, you’re awful,” Isabela snickered, giving her disturbing better half a brief cuddle at the table (they just had disturbing minds, the both of them, it was why they meshed so well) before turning her attention to very expensive lobster. “I don’t think anyone was using poor Meredith as fapping material while she was alive.”
From what Pete had heard, that seemed quite accurate. “Alright, cease with the talk of yanking cranks before I lose my appetite,” he warned, and sliced into his steak to make a point - blood ran out, all those delicious red juices, intermingling with the potato side dish.
They were all dirty-minded sods, but alas. They’d have a good pre-Christmas dinner anyway, and revel in friendship that was celebrated because of that perversion. Happy holidays indeed.