Who: Hawke & Killian What: Killian helps Hawke shop for someone who likes Big Boats and Cannot Lie When: Yesterday! Where: A boatshow Rating/Warning: Innuendos and spanking Status: Complete!
There were more than a few vendors to choose from, when it came to buying a boat in Orange County. After all, they were right by the bloody beach - the briny aroma and the stretch of never-ending sea, each wave overlapping one another, white bubbling crests, hot colours to match the burning of the sand underfoot. Which meant a boat was a rather grand, fantastic gift - Killian knew the appeal of sailing, how it felt like flying over the water - the sun on your face, windburn - and how a person could long to feel the breaking of the waves on the prow as the boat headed onward, drinking up the long journey. So he was certain this was the perfect gift for Hawke’s wife Isabela, a fellow pirate herself.
Here, at a boat show in Long Beach, they had everything from fishing tackle displays to marine accessories to the traveling vessels themselves, to freediving and SCUBA equipment. His private marina where the Roger was docked, brought ashore to be cleaned regularly (he didn’t want mold or dirt or anything nasty to eat away at lovely girl - the wood may be enchanted but it was old, you know), had space for a neighbouring boat as well; thus, he’d gladly offer up the storage to his friend here.
For a price, of course. No, not to worry about - most likely it would just be ‘let me grab your bum’ and they’d call it a day.
“This event is like a sailor’s wet dream, mate, I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave,” he spoke as they received their tickets, programmes, and entered to browse the various boats for sale. Just to get ideas, perhaps not to commit to anything today. But Killian was here to lend his expertise regardless.
It brilliant gift, indeed, when it came to someone who dreamt of ravaging the open seas and becoming queen of those tempestuous waters, but to be honest?
Hawke knew very little about boats.
No, really. Most of his knowledge came from the blurry, starved memories of the cramped vomit and shit covered vessel that’d brought them to Kirkwall, weeks at the mercy of the water with barely enough food to ration, and everything had been stiff from salt. And as long as he’d known Isabela there it was all confined to the premise of the City of Chains. Immediate surrounding areas too, he supposed (Bone Bit, anyone?), and afterwards their time spent as fugitives was cut short as the heavens split to piss out demons,
And after that, well. Back to Kirkwall to rebuilt. At least in his dreams, anyway - in hers, he never saw the light of day again after entering falling into the Fade. There were no anniversaries to celebrate with her in that version. Hawke would be damned if he didn’t make the most of it now, so he did his best to research, he really did, but it was best to see the options with his own olive eyes and in the company of someone who was well-versed with these sort of things.
Modern ones, especially.
“Just make sure to send your betrothed a postcard in case you don’t,” Garrett quipped, ticket tucked into his back pocket. “Thank you for coming with me, mate, it’s been stressful finding the one. Dare I say picking out a boat for Isabela is more complicated than picking out the right wedding ring.”
“Makes sense - a ring is a ring, but a boat? Well,” the Captain grinned, a charming flash of teeth. “It’s essentially everything. Life and love and all that. Especially to someone with the sea in their blood.” He knew what that was like, and he knew modern ships, boats, sailing vessels as well. Being a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy, those years at the Naval College, had gifted him with plenty of wisdom about a variety of subjects - he perhaps even had some squid-fishing know-how tucked away for a rainy day, hm?
But then they were off, heading toward the various boats for sale. “I assume you want something stored in the water - for places with actual seasons, it might be better to not store it in the water for winter but here? Seems alright.” The freak December snowstorms that had become a yearly occurrence aside. “Otherwise you’d have to take it to a launch ramp and that’s annoying. You can always store her with the Roger, I certainly don’t mind,” he said. “Now - what kind of cruiser do you think she’d want? One that’s sort of meant for saltwater fishing, something like that, or more for pleasure cruising?”
Jewelry for Isabela was easy, and finding the right ring for her was instinctual - but a boat? A bloody fucking boat? Not the same thing and he did not want to cock this up, or have one of those awkward moments where she pat him on the bum affectionately going ‘there, there, it’ll do.’
“Ah…” Hawke did his token thing; stroke the beard in thought. “Pleasure cruising, I believe. Something comfortable but with speed - a lot of speed. And with something where spending the night out in the sea would be feasible?” A nice cabin of sorts!
Bela did like big boats, she cannot lie. He also appreciated the offer of having it docked by the Roger, too. They’d be neighbors. Really, this must be all part of the American dream.
“Perfect,” it was as if Killian zoomed in right away, on just the right kind. Because to be honest, if he was going to buy a boat (a smaller vessel, there was a difference between these and ships) then he’d want it to be fast yet also luxurious. Not one of those small, cuddy cabins that didn’t have the luxury of a water heater or a generator - modern amenities, best to take advantage of those.
But at the same time, buying a yacht was likely out of the question. A fifty-foot boat was just cumbersome. Not to mention expensive.
He ended up by a row of shiny express cruisers. “You probably want one of these, then,” he motioned with this hand. “Even if not specifically one, but a boat like these. With the same type of features. They’re rather sleek and sexy, fast, and most have got a cabin good for the longer journeys, you know? They’re built for that. A larger proportion of the space is dedicated to the cabin.”
Now there was just the price tag to contend with. Most new ones of this sort ran for about $100,000 to $200,000, but Killian would be there to help pick out the stars from the duds. The last thing he wanted was for his mate to be sold a lemon.
A yacht was out of the question, yes, because as much as he would do anything for his beloved he doubted she’d want them to go bankrupt - something that was intimate yet had the potential to host more than two was ideal, as he’d ideally would care for social joy rides with others.
“How funny that when I first arrived to this country that something like this was impossible,” mused the mage, picking up a sheet of description when it came to one of them. “If it weren’t for that treasure we uncovered and the fact that we’ve got income flowing in consistently, the best I’d be able to afford would be an inflatable pirate ship meant for kiddy pools. That’d be a way to get myself stabbed.”
Don’t get him wrong, this was certainly not chump change he was about to drop on this - there’d be a deposit put down, of course, a generous one, and then payments in installments but he had crunched the numbers and found it more than feasible. “And I presume we can put a name on it, yes?” Hawke asked. “Bela’s ship in Thedas was Siren’s Call - I know nothing I get will compare to that love but I want to give her the option of giving it a mantle.”
“I know what you mean,” Killian chuckled; he had to think back when he first arrived in Orange County. On a temporary job (or what he initially believed was temporary), living illegally on a small, cosy houseboat - because that slip he had obtained through good favour from a previous client, let’s just say space in Newport Beach was limited - and not exactly rolling in money. Now he was comfortable - certainly not upper class by any means, but he wasn’t hurting for cash or making Regina bear the burden of paying all the bills. They were a team.
And speaking of that, he never quite thought he’d be engaged to the Evil Queen either. Funny how life works out.
“But we’ve settled in this hellhole, may as well enjoy it,” he pointed out, taking a small notepad from his pocket and clicking a pen to jot down a few notes about the boat they were currently looking at. Make and model, price, features, fuel info, things like that. He wanted to take notes on all and then do some comparisons. If Hawke asked nicely, maybe Killian could even do a spreadsheet or some shite like that.
Hey, when it came to anything oceanic, he knew his stuff. “And of course you’ll get to name her. It’s bad luck to go sailing in a vessel with no name, you know.”
It was a decent first one to view, but it hadn’t caught his eye, you see - and if it didn’t catch his eye then he was sure it wouldn’t catch Bela’s. The sailboats were appealing but limited, and his curiosity brought them to a sport cruiser they were allowed to board for further inspection. It was almost like an open house event, really, with the furniture it seemed to have. Plentiful seating on top alongside the cabin (with a table), and down below was bedroom-kitchen-bathroom combo with a window to view the waters below.
“I’ve no issues enjoying it,” Hawke chuckled, poking and prodding at the steering wheel and gadgets that came with it - definitely not the standard pirate vessel, and didn’t they need a boating license? Tack that onto the list, Killian. “I mostly thought I’d be old, dried out, and wanking off into my hand dedicating my life to support the family.” There was a dramatic and mockingly forlorn sigh, like the next sentence was such a burden. “I suppose it was my destiny to randomly fall onto some treasure that would put my head well above water.”
Maker, this must be something to own. He wondered what the maintenance was like? So much research to do, indeed, that his eyes might roll out of his bloody head.
“What an astounding image,” Killian snorted, as they boarded the boat to look around at the interior. It was one like he’d described before, where the cabin was the main portion - though it’d still get that speed Isabela was clearly after. There’d be no doubt about that. “I could bloody well use some treasure - got to put a lot of it into Meara’s uni fund.” Or her trust fund in general - he wanted his daughter to be comfortable when she grew up, and not have to worry about money. That was a father’s job, he gathered. One of them, anyway.
Whistling, obviously impressed, he jotted down some notes about this particular beauty. “This one’s nice, mate,” the pirate Captain gave his expert opinion. “Good size, good speed potential, good for fishing too if you ever decide - “ Boating licence, fishing licence, it was all so legal and exciting but he suspected Hawke didn’t want the Coast Guard after them, “...would require just cleaning it regularly, changing the oil, flushing out the engine after every trip. Both saltwater and freshwater, though I imagine you’ll mostly be enjoying the majesty of the ocean.”
Overheating and damage was no fun. Especially with an expensive engine like the one they were looking at. Honestly, he was salivating a little.
“Save up while you can for that milestone - tuition here costs a pretty coin, blood, sweat, and perhaps a left testicle,” he scoffed. Hawke was responsible for putting the twins through school so, yes, he was well-versed in the university scam of the states. He hoped that this recent clown show of an election shed a light as to why education should be readily available to the public, cost-free or hardly costly at all. “But who knows, there could be some unclaimed booty out there somewhere for you to sink your hook into?”
Considering that they had found treasures underground and, in celebration, copulated on top of, he was sure there would be other things to make the journey over. The oddest fucking things usually did.
But he made mental notes of what Killian listed as they went down below, in the form of short steps where the ‘living quarters’ were. It wasn’t overtly spacious, though the layout was practical and comfortable, and Garrett decided to test out the bed by laying in it.
And making the motions like he was creating a snow angel in the sheets, how mature.
“I can imagine myself already fucking in this thing.”
Killian laughed heartily, leaning against the door frame for a moment. Then he pushed off to have a closer look around in this area, and make some more notes. “I’d hope you would, really christen that mattress,” he smirked. “Let’s see - ceiling’s good,” his mutterings probably were a bit nonsensical at first, dark brow crinkled in a somewhat precious manner (because boats were serious business), “....fiberglass encasings, won’t have to worry about wood rotting. Toilet’s in a good spot too, the worst is when the john is all awkward to get to.” Certainly didn’t help strengthen the sea legs either. “Oh, and there’s air conditioner. You’ll love that when you’re spending the night, especially if it’s muggy outside and you’re closed in.”
Then it was just a humid, watery nightmare. Didn’t really set the mood for fucking either.
Christ on a cracker, he really liked this pretty, pretty cruiser. So much heart eyes, but granted, he was besotted over the Roger more. His girl held a special place in his tar pit of a heart. “You’ll have to invite me out when you make it officially yours, maybe we can discover some more treasure in time for the wedding.”
Hawke liked it too, a lot, and while there were more to explore throughout the show he’d have to put a special mark on this one - maybe even impulsively make a move on going forward with the purchasing process before someone else snatched it up. It was a lot to consider.
“I’ve no idea how to treasure hunt out in the waters,” he chortled, pushing himself up by his elbows. “I won’t say no to an adventure, though knowing our luck we’ll get saddled with something nasty out there. We’ve already hit monsters deep in the earth, and I’m sure there’s something ugly hiding in the deep dark blue.”
He liked the ocean. Really, he did, but let’s face it: it was a mysterious mass where people had little control, and if there were gargantuan arachnids guarding the Deep Roads than he was sure there was either a lochness monster or megalodon hiding around here somewhere.
“Luckily, you’re married to a pirate and mates with another,” Killian pointed out. “We know all there is to know about treasure hunting on open water.” The fact that there likely was something nasty lurking out there, in the deep blue sea - multiple somethings - just added to the intrigue. He didn’t see how anyone could not at least respect the power of the ocean even if you didn’t necessarily want to encounter something like cannibal sharks.
Yes, those existed. He’d watched every single Netflix documentary ever, involving the ocean and mysteries of the deep. Sat up with a fussy Meara plenty of nights, bleary-eyed, and needed something to do so he didn’t go mad.
“I mean, Christ, did you know submarines have disappeared? Four in one year, in 1968, just bloody well disappeared without a trace. Only in the majesty of the ocean could a whole submarine get lost.” After all, his first love was 95% unexplored, unseen, and unknown - really added to the intrigue, didn’t it? “We’re due to find a Kraken or something.”
Oh, how true that was.
Maker. No, he hadn’t a clue, and it’s not like he researched ‘missing sea vessels’ either - but it made sense Killian did, for some reason. “Is that research out of boredom, or are you intentionally planning on hunting something?”
Hawke wouldn’t be surprised. Stranger things have happened, hadn’t they? Look hard enough and there’d definitely be something.
He gave his beard another of those infamous, contemplative strokes. “It’d be an interesting adventure. My weariness stems from the fact that the waters are so bloody unstable, and that is not territory meant to be conquered by men.” Or anything with legs for that matter - the ocean was capricious in nature, and claimed what she wanted, when she wanted. He supposed that’s where the thrill came from.
“A bit of both, but more so on the hunting something,” Killian flashed his devilish grin. “I can’t stay away from the mysteries, from the challenges. It’s perhaps a bit masochistic but I’m into it.” One could argue that he’d always been that way - it was just a quirk of his personality, there was no changing this particular facet.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for him. He went around to push on the mattress Hawke had decided to test out by lying down on it, just on the edge there. “Well, what are you thinking? Want to do more comparisons or do you have a good feeling about this one?”
The bargaining was always fun. No doubt some intimidation tactics would work, to help lower the price a little. Nothing like mindraping the seller of this glorious vessel, no, but more like some good, old-fashioned haggling. And glaring. Killian would look forward to it.
Oh, what fun it is to find something with the potential to kill you - Hawke had to laugh, shaking his head some. “Knowing you’re like you’ll find murderous mermaids, maybe even the fabled kraken,” he grinned, dimples making that dip into his scruffy cheeks. “But as for this? Hm, definitely bookmarked, and I say we browse around a little more in case there’s something more appealing, but if someone starts making serious inquiries about this one? We’ll have to make them disappear.”
He did like this. A lot Hell, he could already imagine Dog curled up on the sofa bench, the spot claimed his unless he dared to squeeze in and spoon his master. There were mornings he’d woken up like that (with Bela pushed to the edge of the bed, alas).
“Complimentary drinks tonight for the likes of you at The Hanged Man, for taking on this trek with me, by the way.” He lifted up from the bed, hands on his hips to survey the room for one last time (also his butt was there for the spanking, Killian, feel free). “And all the threats you’ll probably make in honor of my marriage.”
Well, if the fellow’s bum was there, why wouldn’t he give it a spank? Which Killian did, of course, it was an impressive handful grabbed with the flesh and blood appendage and a slap combo. Only the best for his scruffy, bearded friend here.
“How sweet of you,” he practically swooned. “Complimentary drinks. I’ll be sure to take you up on it.” Oh yes, he wanted some of that Rat Droppings ale or the blackcurrant brandy that was like nectar of the boozy gods, blessed by Dionysus himself most likely. Killian gathered that Hawke’s dreamworld was more than shitty, but they did know how to brew alcohol in medieval times. He could attest to that. “But it’s no trouble, mate, I’m glad to help. I’m sure I’ll be coming to you, to figure out an anniversary present after my own one-year shackled.”
What was the traditional gift there? Paper? He certainly would do better than that. “I’m good at making pesky people disappear too,” he winked. Yes, he had his ways. Maybe they’d ‘suddenly’ realise the numbers didn’t add up. Anything could happen!