Who: Varric and Scotty What: Bar brawl When: A few nights ago Where: a bar Status: Complete Rating: PG-13 for violence and punting
Varric was waiting for Scotty at a bar he’d found. It wasn’t the Green Maid (he’d thought to spare the man that pain), but the drinks were good, the atmosphere delightful, and the chicken wings amazing. He already had his drink.
It wasn't so much a pain as a that's in the past situation, but Scotty appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. He had been broken up with enough times that he knew when to move on, and let things fall through again! As it was, his first love was engineering and - now that the Enterprise was back - he had spent a whole lot of time on the engineering deck, overseeing his domain. The bonus point was that he had it all to himself. Bwahaha!
In walked Scotty, whistling a merry tune as he drew close, gave Varric a slap on the back, and sat down.
"Scotch if ye'd please!" he cheerfully ordered, and then turned his attention to Varric once he had his drink. "Ye look well, short an' hairy. How are ye?"
“Good afternoon, Tinker. I’m doing pretty well.” He looked the man over. “Did you lose weight? The hell were you doing off in Scotland all this time, throwing logs?” Varric actually looked a few inches shorter.
"I didnae lose weight, in fact I gained some in the middle. I think there's a problem with perspective, since I think...you've shrunk." Being blunt was Scotty's forte, and there were a few Scottish sorts that really lacked tact. He was one of them. "I think you've gotten hairier tae."
He grinned brightly at Varric like that was profoundly funny and then took a big swig off the scotch, after making a toasting motion in the air with the glass.
Varric laughed. “We’re not the kind of dwarves that routinely grow beards. I like being clean shaven, Tinker.” He rubbed at his jawline. He might have gotten hairier in other places and his dwarf-pelt was sublime now. He toasted Scotty back, and took a drink with a big laugh. “I’m not sure Rabbit would like it as much.”
Scotty stuck a finger down in the open part of Varric's shirt and twiddled his finger there, pulling his hand away so he didn't get it slapped right off his arm.
"Your chest carpet gae thicker," was Scotty's reply, like he was well amused. "I think it's glossier as well. I knew about Bianca, but...rabbit?"
“Helen. My fiance.” Varric calmly spoke, while sipping at his drink as though he were discussing his latest story.
"Oh, ye didnae." Scotty winced a little and took a hard look at Varric and then sighed as he said, "Oh, ye did. Well? I hope it works oot for the best and things dinnae gew arse o'er end!"
“Some rough patches, no more or less than most couple, I suppose. So far so good. She accepted Bianca. So it’s sort of an open relationship.”
"That sounds good then, and if she accepted Bianca, then it bodes well. When're ye going tae get married, ye wee bampot?"
“We’re still working on that part.” He’d never intended to ever get married again, to be completely honest, and Helen had sideswipped him rather effectively. Didn’t matter, was getting laid.
The door opened then. Two very short people walked in.
Varric looked at them, then at Scotty. “Tinker, do they just follow you, now?”
There was more to life than getting laid. Sure, that was nice and grand and the likes? But there was outer space and warp engines and the entire engineering deck on his mind.
Scotty looked at Varric like he had lobsters crawling out his ears and then turned to look at the short people.
"I'm sitting next tae yeeeeeew, so I think like attracts like," Scotty said. "They probably want a wee dram. Nothin' tae get worked up over."
“That’s what we thought last time,” Varric pointed out. He knocked back his drink, and hoped that Scotty was right.
Except one of them marched up and poked Varric in the side. “Hey you Ginger, that’s me seat!”
"I dinnae think your name's on it," Scotty pointed out, looking momentarily disgruntled. "Gew sit elsewhere, ye cheeky wee bastard."
“Why yes, I do have a magnificent chest of red hair,” Varric replied, and otherwise, he ignored the man. That is, until the short fellow hauled off and punched Varric, sending perfectly good ale splashing all over Scotty.
And sending Scotty's elbow up against the side of little buttard's head.
"That's it. Nee~eew yer going tae get punted," the Scotsman announced and stood up to just that. Because what's a boy's night out without a midget flying through the air? It’s not a night out. That’s what. Duh.
Varric shook out his hands, and turned to the little man. “Now you’ve done it. You’ve impunged the honor of the ale. This here is Montgomery Scott, and he’s going to whup your ass.”
The man responded by blackening Varric’s eye. Varric’s fist shot out, sending him flying back into his buddy. “there’s just two of them right? It’s not going to be a whole circus again?”
"Nae circus, nae guns, and nae more spilling of drinks," Scotty assured Varric, grabbing onto one little guy, narrowly avoiding getting kicked, and literally hurling him back toward the door they came in from. "Get oot before your faces meet the business end of me fist!"
He flung through the door and outside!
“It’s SCOOTY!” someone shouted, and the punted man came back with a small gang of short people - and one very tall and burly looking friend of theirs.
Varric covered his face with his palm, then rolled his shoulders. “All right then. I could use a party.”
Scotty glared at the lotsa little people and one big guy. The wee critters were fully kickable and no way was Scotty going to let alcohol abuse (not of the drinky kind but the spilly kind) go on, unpunished. He launched himself into the middle of the gang, kicking, and let the big guy meet the business end of his fist.
Didn't matter if he was burly, green-skinned, had horns, or was a Klingon. Ass whuppin? It's what's happening. Aww yea!
The guy’s head snapped back, and blood poured down his nose. He grinned at Scott. He might just be a Klingon in another life, because he rocked his head forward attempting to headbutt him!
Varric was pushing a few shorter men out of the way, and charged the big man, ramming his shoulder into the man’s kidney.
No headbutts! Those're bad! Even though Varric was going to have the big guy peeing blood for a few days, Scotty tried to bob or weave or anything ot get out of the way. Nevertheless, the man's forehead met his right eye, resulting in seeing a colorful 'splosion of red and purple.
"Oof! Ye got a right clout there, ye big burly bastard," Scotty was grumbling, clutching that eye with one hand and taking a swing at him with his other hand clenched into a tight fist. The punch was directed square deadcenter of the big guy's face.
The man fell backwards over Varric’s leg. Someone grabbed Scotty from behind and tried to pants him. Because reasons. Meanwhile, the dwarf started to punch another midget!
It's okay. Scotty wore boxers. They weren't decorative or fun or anything. They were just plain old maroon colored boxers. Of which, whoever tried to pants him only got his trousers halfway down over his bum and started to pull on the undies, when Scotty whirled around and not only punched the guy? But gave 'em a kick. Wherever his foot landed, even if it was the family jewels? Scotty was fresh out of fucks to give.
That was also when his Scottish temper kicked in full force, and he began to kick at midgets, even picking one up and drop kicking them across the bar. Take that, foo!
The little man squealed in pain. Varric thought there was something horrifically wrong about this whole thing, but he didn’t really care. He hadn’t had a good fight in a long time. He only wished Hawke and Bianca were here. It would be even crazier with them here.
Varric wouldn’t mind crazy. He jumped into the bigger man and started swinging down at his face.
Nope. Nothing wrong with this in the slightest since the wee bastards started the whole mess, by being wee pricks. Scotty had lil' folk clinging on to him in a futile effort to stop the scottish brawler assault. It was all for naught. Fists and work boots rained down on them, more went flying, and there was a whole lot of unintelligible scottish yelling at them going on.
There was a shotgun click, and the barkeep shouted. “STOP THIS AND GET THE FUCK OUT!” He didn’t care who started it, they were messing up the bar and he was going to have none of that, no-sir-ee!
Varric froze, and held his hands up.
"Ye should've nosed in when the wee fuckers started in on patrons who were already here!" Scotty hollered back at the barkeep. He did raised both hands as he was backing toward the door, but - never afraid of firearms, lasers, or aliens - he was simultaneously flipping the guy off as he did so. "I wouldnae come back in here if ye paid me with free drinks fae the rest o' me life!"
Varric followed, back to the door and eying the shotgun dubiously. So inelegant. Nothing really could beat a good crossbow, as far as he was concerned.
Outside, the shorter people scattered, and the big man stumbled off, holding his nose. Varric rubbed at his knuckles. “Deja vu.”
"I'd say sae!" he exclaimed to his short friend and then took a hard look at Varric. "Och. Your girl is gonnae blame me for ye being roughed up."
“Not your fault.” He grinned lopsidedly, and bounced a bit on the back of his heels. “That was a blast, Tinker. You’re almost as bad as Hawke, when it comes to strange troubles following you wherever you go.”
He wasn’t going to take responsibility for the midgets.
"Nae really with the strange troubles," he confessed, with a wince that was more from pain than from shying away from the label. "I actually am happier when it's quiet and I've things tae fix or work on. I AM developing a hatred of midgets, that's for certain. I think I need tae go put some ice on the shiner I've gotten. Good luck with the lass. I hope it works oot!"
“Thanks.” Varric nodded his head at Scotty. It was going to be really hard to pick a best man when the time came. Of course, Varric was perfectly happy with procrastinating that time for quiet awhile yet.
"We should try this again," Scotty suggested, with one hand over the bruised portion of his face. Ouch. "Only this time, at one of our homes. If ye like scrap, then we're in luck! I've plenty of it! Ye need a ride? I didnae drink enough before they attacked."
“Sure, I’ll take that ride. We can catch up on the way,” Varric clapped his hand on Scotty’s shoulder.
With a thumbs up, Scotty led Varric over to the big scrap hauling and recycling truck he drove around and got in. Vroom! They were on their way!