"This city does seem to have an overabundance of metal buildings," Hawke observed with raised brows. "It still amazes me how anyone finds their way about, considering how crowded the streets are." With shocking horrors like those horseless carriages, the flashing multi colored lights that served as signals to everyone, but were largely ignored. The former Champion of Kirkwall wasn't daunted by much, but New York City was decidedly out of his wheelhouse.
"Hopefully it won't come to a true rout," he remarked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "My days of gallivanting about righting wrongs are on the fall, I hope." He'd done more than his share, honestly. Although, the commentary was truly just lip service - Hawke would never stop protecting where he could and doing his damndest to stop idiots from misusing those unable to defend themselves.
Once they'd reached the front of the building, he swung around to Bucky with a friendly smile. "Well, here we are. The invitation still stands, if you'd like to come in."
"Luckily most of Manhattan's a grid. The rest of it though- you're right. It makes sense after a while, though." Getting used to neighborhoods is a nice thing in the city. Bucky's probably one of those who ignores the lights a lot of the time. He's got places to go!
As for the neighborhood troubles..."Seems like you scare them off enough where they won't cause too many issues. At least the people around here have someone looking out for them." It's a good thing, and Bucky respects it.
This walk was nice, especially because they got to talk and share. Bucky's not big on either of those things- not at all, but it's easy to talk to Rowen. He feels like they have a lot in common somehow, and that's always helpful. He slows once they reach the building, giving Rowen a small smile.
It's tempting, because he finds he doesn't exactly want the night to end. but inviting someone inside also means something very specific, as far as he knows, and he's unsure about that. "Ah. I'd... like to. But I don't know if I should."
Hawke was hardly an idiot; he picked up the hesitation almost instantly. History definitely seemed to be repeating itself, didn't it? His smile never wavered; if anything, it became a little softer, more understanding. He spread his hands, still in the jacket pockets.
"For a drink and conversation, promise. I hold no expectations, and I give you my word that you will leave in the same state in which you entered." He withdrew one hand to place it over his heart, a solemn promise. "Swear it."
Then his smirk tilted, just roguish enough. "We'll even sit on opposite sides of the room, just in case."
That pulls a slightly bashful laugh from Bucky. Well this is embarrassing. Not in a completely terrible way, but now he's just coming off as a complete prude, isn't he. "Alright, alright."
He shakes his head, catching up to Rowen. "I'm not that bad though, am I? You can sit next to me."
Experience had taught him how to be absolutely clear in these sorts of situations. Trauma was a sneaky demon, and it took wicked delight in rearing its head at the most awkward times. So, better to be direct than be thrown through a wall; at least that was Hawke's outlook on these things.
"Of course you're not," Hawke told him, echoing the chuckle. "And I'd be delighted to do so. The divan in my quarters is very comfortable. I daresay I fall asleep on it easier than I do that giant, marshmallow bed I'm saddled with. But come on, let's get out of the night air."
Hawke's building had a doorman around the clock; he doffed his cap as both men entered the lobby, and wished them a pleasant evening. The former Champion's abode was on the fifth floor - the middle floor, better for security purposes, he explained, and though the building did have two working elevators, Hawke apologized for taking the stairs, stating that he just didn't trust a closed box that moved up and down on its own.
But his apartment was nicely furnished, comfortable, with soft blue walls and earth-toned furniture. A single bedroom, there was nevertheless an impressive view of the interior garden through the large windows, and the appliances were all top of the line and modern.
As far as personal touches went, Hawke still hadn't really accumulated much, but there were dishes in the drying rack, staples in the refrigerator (the Ferelden native once again sang the praises of the miraculous "cold-box"), and his staff, which rested in a prominent corner, glowing with a soft blue light all its own.
Bucky truly does appreciate that. He's just not used to it. It's why he's still smiling though- it's actually very refreshing.
"I never sleep on my mattress either. That's what it is. A big damn marshmallow."
He follows Hawke into the building, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes the place. The doorman gets a nod, but mostly Bucky is sizing him up. He also absolutely doesn't mind the stairs, and agrees with Hawke about what floor to live on. He did the same in Bucharest when he was in hiding. He does the same now in his apartment in Brooklyn.
"Nice place," he says sincerely as Hawke lets him inside, and he wanders a little. Hawke has more than he does, but that doesn't say much. He has a couch, a TV, a lamp and a chair. He likely won't be inviting Hawke back to his place any time soon, because he is actually embarrassed by it. He knows it's pathetic to live the way he does.
He does meander over to the staff. It reminds him of Loki's scepter, lit up by the tesseract. He has to remind himself that that particular problem is gone now. It's all gone. Maybe he stares at it a little too long, though.
"It was my father's," Hawke said quietly, coming over with two open beer bottles in hand. He handed one to Bucky, then indicated the staff with the other. "'Malcolm's Honor', we called it. The golden figurine at the crest symbolizes Andraste, the Bride of the Maker, and the inverted symbol behind her is supposed to be the Circle's Crest, but I can't be fully sure."
He took a long swallow of the dark brew, gazing at the staff. Which, he'd later swear, gave a luminescent twinkle to be the object of such rapt attention.
"All mages have one, but their properties and attributes differ depending on the wielder. My magic is more elementally based, so the staff channels it and makes it nearly twice as powerful. And it possesses its own enchantments, which are thereby passed to me the moment my hand closes around it."
He snaps out of it when Hawke comes over and takes the beer from him with a soft thank you.
"It's interesting. Reminds me of something from my past." It's really all he wants to say about that, and he's more interested in Hawke's explanation of his magic. "Elemental- so the light in the alleyway- what else can you do? I mean- you still don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'm just curious about you. Being a mage is pretty big stuff around here."
"Mmhm." Hawke gestured to the couch, plopping down at one end after shrugging out of his jacket.
"Physical manifestations of the elements," was his clinical explanation. Then he chuckled. "I can't really explain it better than that, I was never a Circle mage. But I can show you..."
Putting down the bottle on the coffee table, Hawke held out his hands, palms open and facing upwards. A moment later, the same curious rush of air swept by and a small ball of fire danced on the mage's left hand. Another whoosh, and a delicate snowflake slowly spun in his other hand, accompanied by its own small snow flurry.
It seemed effortless, but Hawke's eyebrows were furrowed with the force directing his will, and as always, the magic happily followed his guidance. "Lightning is...a bit tricky, especially indoors, but..." He closed his hands, both the fire and snow vanishing without a trace (no burned flesh or frostbitten fingertips, either), then turned towards the large bay windows, again drawing in his will.
A few seconds later, a sharp crack of bright light flared right outside, the lightning flash leaving shimmering heat wavering in the air for half a moment before it faded.
He moves to sit on the couch- which really is comfortable. He even sits next to Hawke instead of on the other end. He takes a sip of his beer, then turns a little more toward him, watching his hands.
His eyebrows lift slightly as he watches the magic take form. He can see how Hawke is concentrating, but it really does look effortless....and quite pretty. The lightning has him tense a little, but it passes quickly.
"Well now you're just showing off," he teases, looking at Hawke once again. "That's pretty incredible, though. I liked the snow."
Hawke laughed, settling back against the couch. "But of course. Showing off is only one of the things I happen to do quite well." Picking up his bottle, he lifted an eyebrow at Bucky's comment about the frost magic.
"Oh? Well..." Then he reached out, touched his fingertips to Bucky's bottle, and a moment later it sported a light sheen of silver, bitingly cold to the touch. "Not a bad trick, particularly in the summer months."
A cheeky grin, and he clinked the rim of his own bottle to his guest's before taking another long swallow.
"It does look pretty damn good on you," Bucky agrees with a warm smile that turns into a laugh when Hawke uses his magic to make his beer cold. "Oh, that's good. Very useful."
And then he's not really sure why he asks, but it just comes tumbling out of his mouth anyway. "Does it work like that on people's skin?" Not that any of Bucky's is showing, what with his gloves on.
"Why, thank you, serah," Hawke teased right back. "Such a lovely compliment." It was quite nice, seeing his guest relaxing and smiling. Hawke had no idea what this poor man had suffered in his past years, but he knew it had to be absolutely horrible. And the kind nature he tried so often to keep stifled was just thrilled all to pieces at Bucky's responses.
Even more so at the next question. Which had Hawke pausing with both eyebrows lifted, but only for the smallest fraction of time. "Oh," he replied, casually resting an arm on the back of the couch, bottle in that hand, "skin is actually even better."
To explain, he added, "Flesh is a natural conduit of magical property, so any sort of magical sensation, be it heat, cold, or electricity, is absorbed almost instantly. Used offensively, elemental magic is dangerously deadly, but in skilled hands, it can be...more of a survival tool than most realize."
Hawke held out his empty hand. "Shall I show you?"
Which meant that, yes, Bucky was going to have to take off at least one glove.
He's relieved Hawke doesn't know about his past. He's relieved that the other man doesn't look at him a certain way. The way all people who know who and what we was look at him.
Being with Hawke is a relief, he thinks to himself, time and time again.
Even as his face grows slightly hot when Hawke answers his question, he still doesn't squirm. He does hesitate though- but only for a small moment this time, before he pulls his right glove off to reveal a very real hand- and places it in Hawke's. "Sure."
In all truth, Hawke's metaphorical hands weren't exactly the cleanest in all the universe, either. He and his friends had left their share of chaos all across Thedas, and not everyone had survived their passing. And those who'd paid the ultimate price weren't criminals, slavers, or ne'er-do-wells who'd deserved such a fate.
The former Champion knew a thing or two about guilt.
But now wasn't for dwelling on the past; it was for watching his guest fidget a little - only increasing his attractiveness, Maker's breath - and closing his fingers around Bucky's hand that, to Hawke's absolute surprise, ended up in his.
"All right."
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but the air around them did that disappearing thing again, and little by little Hawke's palm began to grow incrementally colder. Colder, and colder, and colder. It became bone-chilling, flesh-numbing, bordering in painful, but before the other man could yank away, it stopped, then began to warm, melting that killing cold with gentle, blessed heat.
Heat that seeped from the mage's skin into the soldier's, flowing from Bucky's fingers to his palms, from his palm to his wrist, then began to feather from his wrist upwards along the skin of his arm, until finally Hawke gently let go, pulling away almost...reluctantly.
To take a slow deep breath, then say with a smile, "...see?"
Heavy topics for a different time, possibly. It takes a lot for Bucky to trust someone, and even then it's only ever really been Steve. Maybe Sam.
But those thoughts are far away now, as his hand settles in Hawke's. Bucky doesn't feel very attractive right now, but that's his own issue. He's still figuring out how to fit back into his own skin, his own mind. Experiences like tonight truly help, though.
He watches Hawke for a long moment, until he can feel the shift in temperature from Hawke's hand to hid palm. It grows colder and colder and for a moment it almost reminds him of something he doesn't want to remember. Trauma from the past, that makes his other hand curl into a fist at his side. But he concentrates hard on staying grounded in the here and now, and knowing that these surroundings are different from the ones he had to endure before. It's a good thing he sticks it out too, because once the almost painful cold wraps around his hand, it slowly starts warming in the other direction, surrounding his arm, moving up his wrist. It feels nice, it feels gentle.
Bucky breathes out slow and deep when Hawke pulls away as well, his gaze flickering back up to his face. "That felt incredible." Not a word he'd use lightly.
Perhaps one day they'd be able to sit down and talk about their history. Perhaps they'd find shared understanding and camaraderie in bringing the pain of the past to light. But not tonight. No, not tonight.
Hawke couldn't help the tilt of his smile at Bucky's breathed admission. "Liked that, hm?" Perhaps not the cold, but definitely the heat. He hadn't missed the small, very subtle flush to those high cheekbones in the last few moments of that little trick.
The mage took a slow sip of his beer, a little mischief twinkling in his look-alike blue eyes. "And that was only on your hand. Imagine what that warmth might feel like...hmmm...elsewhere."
It would be a whole different kind of thing, talking to Hawke about it, as opposed to anyone else. Bucky can already feel that. But no, not tonight.
"Yeah," he says simply. He did like it. The heat, anyway. He can feel the heat lingering on his skin, even as he pulls his glove back on. He takes another sip of his icy cold beer, unable to help the smile that forms around the rim. At that, he takes an even longer sip.
"Oh, I'm imagining. It's hard not to." Honesty, at least. He isn't shying away from it this time. It really did feel nice.
Hawke watched Bucky pull the glove back on, truly curious as to why he even wore them, but opted not to ask, not just yet. Everyone had their proclivities, after all. He did, however, give a light chuckle to Bucky's confession, even more delighted to see him opening up, if only a small fraction.
Progress, that.
"Are you, now?" He almost asked for elaboration on that, but miraculously refrained; small steps, small steps. Hawke couldn't help but quip, though, "Lightning and earth magic are a little more generalized, but believe me when I tell you that I can make the earth move in more ways than one." Which was, of course, followed by an absolutely saucy little wink.
It's good Hawke doesn't ask, because with Bucky being honest right now, he wouldnt want to lie. But he'd have to.
He laughs a little at Hawke's wink, shaking his head. "I bet you can. You're incredibly smooth." It's how he used to be, once upon a time. Now he's so damn tightly wound, he doesn't think anything can make him relax that way again.
Hawke tipped his bottle in Bucky's direction, a small salute. "Bless you, messere. I do hope I've entertained or intrigued you, at least a small bit, no?" He assumed so; the man was sitting in his apartment, on his couch, after all.
Shifting his bottle to his other hand, Hawke leaned his head on his left, elbow propped on the back of the couch. "I don't want to presume, and feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping, but back in that pub you just seemed like a man in dire need of a friend." He'd seen the look before. And sighed softly, himself. "You're not really alone in that, you know?"
"More than a small bit, yeah," Buck nods, tilting his head down a little as he does so, eyes on Hawke. "Haven't talked to anyone for this long since-- since too far back to even remember."
Bucky rests back against the couch a little more as well, getting comfortable. Hawke is right, of course, even if it's hard for Bucky to admit. Maybe it's hard for Hawke to admit it as well, though Hawke seems plenty open about that sort of thing. It makes it easier for Bucky to talk as well.
"It's good we cam across each other, then." He's quiet for a moment after that, looking down at his beer, picking at the label for a moment before he takes another long sip. "Being alone had felt easier. Made it feel like it was my decision."
He'd always been the strong shoulder, the friendly ear, for anyone who needed either. Especially his companions, Maker bless them. But that didn't mean Hawke wasn't without his own burdens to bear. Not by half.
"It is good," he agreed. Then pointed out, "As for decisions, I daresay you've made a good many of them." A sweep of the bottle indicated their current surroundings. "And I'd like to say most, if not all, of them pleasant?"
Growing up, Bucky had been that way too. And then he was nothing. No one. A ghost, until he got his mind back again. Now, far too often, he's the one who feels like a burden.
He doesn't need to glance around. He only needs to look at Hawke. "Yeah- a lot of good decisions tonight, and none of them had anything to do with being alone. Although you did have to do quite a lot of convincing at the start. Sorry about that."
Hawke accepted the apology with a gracious nod and a wave of a hand. "Don't apologize. You're entitled to be left alone if you truly wish to be, and random strangers are more often than not, out to get something. It can sometimes be difficult to tell the difference."
He levered off of the couch to fetch them each a new bottle, just as icily cold as the former. Resuming his seat, he sighed and took a long swallow, just now beginning to feel the briefest buzz from the alcohol. Truly, the breweries in this realm held no candles to Thedas ales.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 12:13 am (UTC)"Hopefully it won't come to a true rout," he remarked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "My days of gallivanting about righting wrongs are on the fall, I hope." He'd done more than his share, honestly. Although, the commentary was truly just lip service - Hawke would never stop protecting where he could and doing his damndest to stop idiots from misusing those unable to defend themselves.
Once they'd reached the front of the building, he swung around to Bucky with a friendly smile. "Well, here we are. The invitation still stands, if you'd like to come in."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 01:14 am (UTC)As for the neighborhood troubles..."Seems like you scare them off enough where they won't cause too many issues. At least the people around here have someone looking out for them." It's a good thing, and Bucky respects it.
This walk was nice, especially because they got to talk and share. Bucky's not big on either of those things- not at all, but it's easy to talk to Rowen. He feels like they have a lot in common somehow, and that's always helpful. He slows once they reach the building, giving Rowen a small smile.
It's tempting, because he finds he doesn't exactly want the night to end. but inviting someone inside also means something very specific, as far as he knows, and he's unsure about that. "Ah. I'd... like to. But I don't know if I should."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 01:19 am (UTC)"For a drink and conversation, promise. I hold no expectations, and I give you my word that you will leave in the same state in which you entered." He withdrew one hand to place it over his heart, a solemn promise. "Swear it."
Then his smirk tilted, just roguish enough. "We'll even sit on opposite sides of the room, just in case."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 01:24 am (UTC)He shakes his head, catching up to Rowen. "I'm not that bad though, am I? You can sit next to me."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 01:38 am (UTC)"Of course you're not," Hawke told him, echoing the chuckle. "And I'd be delighted to do so. The divan in my quarters is very comfortable. I daresay I fall asleep on it easier than I do that giant, marshmallow bed I'm saddled with. But come on, let's get out of the night air."
Hawke's building had a doorman around the clock; he doffed his cap as both men entered the lobby, and wished them a pleasant evening. The former Champion's abode was on the fifth floor - the middle floor, better for security purposes, he explained, and though the building did have two working elevators, Hawke apologized for taking the stairs, stating that he just didn't trust a closed box that moved up and down on its own.
But his apartment was nicely furnished, comfortable, with soft blue walls and earth-toned furniture. A single bedroom, there was nevertheless an impressive view of the interior garden through the large windows, and the appliances were all top of the line and modern.
As far as personal touches went, Hawke still hadn't really accumulated much, but there were dishes in the drying rack, staples in the refrigerator (the Ferelden native once again sang the praises of the miraculous "cold-box"), and his staff, which rested in a prominent corner, glowing with a soft blue light all its own.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 02:17 am (UTC)"I never sleep on my mattress either. That's what it is. A big damn marshmallow."
He follows Hawke into the building, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes the place. The doorman gets a nod, but mostly Bucky is sizing him up. He also absolutely doesn't mind the stairs, and agrees with Hawke about what floor to live on. He did the same in Bucharest when he was in hiding. He does the same now in his apartment in Brooklyn.
"Nice place," he says sincerely as Hawke lets him inside, and he wanders a little. Hawke has more than he does, but that doesn't say much. He has a couch, a TV, a lamp and a chair. He likely won't be inviting Hawke back to his place any time soon, because he is actually embarrassed by it. He knows it's pathetic to live the way he does.
He does meander over to the staff. It reminds him of Loki's scepter, lit up by the tesseract. He has to remind himself that that particular problem is gone now. It's all gone. Maybe he stares at it a little too long, though.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 02:26 am (UTC)He took a long swallow of the dark brew, gazing at the staff. Which, he'd later swear, gave a luminescent twinkle to be the object of such rapt attention.
"All mages have one, but their properties and attributes differ depending on the wielder. My magic is more elementally based, so the staff channels it and makes it nearly twice as powerful. And it possesses its own enchantments, which are thereby passed to me the moment my hand closes around it."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 02:35 am (UTC)"It's interesting. Reminds me of something from my past." It's really all he wants to say about that, and he's more interested in Hawke's explanation of his magic. "Elemental- so the light in the alleyway- what else can you do? I mean- you still don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'm just curious about you. Being a mage is pretty big stuff around here."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 02:42 am (UTC)"Physical manifestations of the elements," was his clinical explanation. Then he chuckled. "I can't really explain it better than that, I was never a Circle mage. But I can show you..."
Putting down the bottle on the coffee table, Hawke held out his hands, palms open and facing upwards. A moment later, the same curious rush of air swept by and a small ball of fire danced on the mage's left hand. Another whoosh, and a delicate snowflake slowly spun in his other hand, accompanied by its own small snow flurry.
It seemed effortless, but Hawke's eyebrows were furrowed with the force directing his will, and as always, the magic happily followed his guidance. "Lightning is...a bit tricky, especially indoors, but..." He closed his hands, both the fire and snow vanishing without a trace (no burned flesh or frostbitten fingertips, either), then turned towards the large bay windows, again drawing in his will.
A few seconds later, a sharp crack of bright light flared right outside, the lightning flash leaving shimmering heat wavering in the air for half a moment before it faded.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 03:00 am (UTC)His eyebrows lift slightly as he watches the magic take form. He can see how Hawke is concentrating, but it really does look effortless....and quite pretty. The lightning has him tense a little, but it passes quickly.
"Well now you're just showing off," he teases, looking at Hawke once again. "That's pretty incredible, though. I liked the snow."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 03:05 am (UTC)"Oh? Well..." Then he reached out, touched his fingertips to Bucky's bottle, and a moment later it sported a light sheen of silver, bitingly cold to the touch. "Not a bad trick, particularly in the summer months."
A cheeky grin, and he clinked the rim of his own bottle to his guest's before taking another long swallow.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 03:22 am (UTC)And then he's not really sure why he asks, but it just comes tumbling out of his mouth anyway. "Does it work like that on people's skin?" Not that any of Bucky's is showing, what with his gloves on.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 03:30 am (UTC)Even more so at the next question. Which had Hawke pausing with both eyebrows lifted, but only for the smallest fraction of time. "Oh," he replied, casually resting an arm on the back of the couch, bottle in that hand, "skin is actually even better."
To explain, he added, "Flesh is a natural conduit of magical property, so any sort of magical sensation, be it heat, cold, or electricity, is absorbed almost instantly. Used offensively, elemental magic is dangerously deadly, but in skilled hands, it can be...more of a survival tool than most realize."
Hawke held out his empty hand. "Shall I show you?"
Which meant that, yes, Bucky was going to have to take off at least one glove.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 04:17 am (UTC)Being with Hawke is a relief, he thinks to himself, time and time again.
Even as his face grows slightly hot when Hawke answers his question, he still doesn't squirm. He does hesitate though- but only for a small moment this time, before he pulls his right glove off to reveal a very real hand- and places it in Hawke's. "Sure."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 05:39 pm (UTC)The former Champion knew a thing or two about guilt.
But now wasn't for dwelling on the past; it was for watching his guest fidget a little - only increasing his attractiveness, Maker's breath - and closing his fingers around Bucky's hand that, to Hawke's absolute surprise, ended up in his.
"All right."
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but the air around them did that disappearing thing again, and little by little Hawke's palm began to grow incrementally colder. Colder, and colder, and colder. It became bone-chilling, flesh-numbing, bordering in painful, but before the other man could yank away, it stopped, then began to warm, melting that killing cold with gentle, blessed heat.
Heat that seeped from the mage's skin into the soldier's, flowing from Bucky's fingers to his palms, from his palm to his wrist, then began to feather from his wrist upwards along the skin of his arm, until finally Hawke gently let go, pulling away almost...reluctantly.
To take a slow deep breath, then say with a smile, "...see?"
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 11:35 pm (UTC)But those thoughts are far away now, as his hand settles in Hawke's. Bucky doesn't feel very attractive right now, but that's his own issue. He's still figuring out how to fit back into his own skin, his own mind. Experiences like tonight truly help, though.
He watches Hawke for a long moment, until he can feel the shift in temperature from Hawke's hand to hid palm. It grows colder and colder and for a moment it almost reminds him of something he doesn't want to remember. Trauma from the past, that makes his other hand curl into a fist at his side. But he concentrates hard on staying grounded in the here and now, and knowing that these surroundings are different from the ones he had to endure before. It's a good thing he sticks it out too, because once the almost painful cold wraps around his hand, it slowly starts warming in the other direction, surrounding his arm, moving up his wrist. It feels nice, it feels gentle.
Bucky breathes out slow and deep when Hawke pulls away as well, his gaze flickering back up to his face. "That felt incredible." Not a word he'd use lightly.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-06 11:59 pm (UTC)Hawke couldn't help the tilt of his smile at Bucky's breathed admission. "Liked that, hm?" Perhaps not the cold, but definitely the heat. He hadn't missed the small, very subtle flush to those high cheekbones in the last few moments of that little trick.
The mage took a slow sip of his beer, a little mischief twinkling in his look-alike blue eyes. "And that was only on your hand. Imagine what that warmth might feel like...hmmm...elsewhere."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 12:04 am (UTC)"Yeah," he says simply. He did like it. The heat, anyway. He can feel the heat lingering on his skin, even as he pulls his glove back on. He takes another sip of his icy cold beer, unable to help the smile that forms around the rim. At that, he takes an even longer sip.
"Oh, I'm imagining. It's hard not to." Honesty, at least. He isn't shying away from it this time. It really did feel nice.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 12:08 am (UTC)Progress, that.
"Are you, now?" He almost asked for elaboration on that, but miraculously refrained; small steps, small steps. Hawke couldn't help but quip, though, "Lightning and earth magic are a little more generalized, but believe me when I tell you that I can make the earth move in more ways than one." Which was, of course, followed by an absolutely saucy little wink.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 12:13 am (UTC)He laughs a little at Hawke's wink, shaking his head. "I bet you can. You're incredibly smooth." It's how he used to be, once upon a time. Now he's so damn tightly wound, he doesn't think anything can make him relax that way again.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 12:22 am (UTC)Shifting his bottle to his other hand, Hawke leaned his head on his left, elbow propped on the back of the couch. "I don't want to presume, and feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping, but back in that pub you just seemed like a man in dire need of a friend." He'd seen the look before. And sighed softly, himself. "You're not really alone in that, you know?"
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 02:17 am (UTC)Bucky rests back against the couch a little more as well, getting comfortable. Hawke is right, of course, even if it's hard for Bucky to admit. Maybe it's hard for Hawke to admit it as well, though Hawke seems plenty open about that sort of thing. It makes it easier for Bucky to talk as well.
"It's good we cam across each other, then." He's quiet for a moment after that, looking down at his beer, picking at the label for a moment before he takes another long sip. "Being alone had felt easier. Made it feel like it was my decision."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 02:27 am (UTC)"It is good," he agreed. Then pointed out, "As for decisions, I daresay you've made a good many of them." A sweep of the bottle indicated their current surroundings. "And I'd like to say most, if not all, of them pleasant?"
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 02:32 am (UTC)He doesn't need to glance around. He only needs to look at Hawke. "Yeah- a lot of good decisions tonight, and none of them had anything to do with being alone. Although you did have to do quite a lot of convincing at the start. Sorry about that."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-07 02:39 am (UTC)He levered off of the couch to fetch them each a new bottle, just as icily cold as the former. Resuming his seat, he sighed and took a long swallow, just now beginning to feel the briefest buzz from the alcohol. Truly, the breweries in this realm held no candles to Thedas ales.
"So. Second date?"
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: