Dragon Age: One Shots

Merrill x Carver- Intoxicated 1

    The party had been in the Hanged man the whole night. Fenris, Hawke, and Carver were all about to take their leave. So now Carver was sitting alone, listening to Merrill converse with Isabela about how frequently she cheats in Wicked Grace.

    "I think you've had enough, Kitten."

    "Me too..." Merrill gurgled as she set the cup onto the table. She was about to fall onto the pirate.

    "You're the one who encouraged her." Carver sneered.

    "Oh yeah, my fault."

    "I was about to leave anyway, I can walk her home." He offered.

    Isabela laughed. "Like I would trust you to bring her anywhere in this state."

    Merrill was passed out against her chest.

    "Why wouldn't you?" He asked, genuinely confused.

    "My brother may be a prick, but this he can be trusted with." Hawke interjected, before toppling straight off of his bar stool onto the ground. Fenris jumped forward, catching his head before it could be dented by the wooden flooring.

    "Thanks brother, one of the many joys in my life is being dependent of you." Carver mumbled sarcastically.

    Fenris grumbled in masked annoyance, however his face was filled with worry. "I will take Hawke home."

    In return, Hawke gave him a look. Carver did not know what it meant at the time, but it was apparent that the elf did.

    After Varric recovered from his sudden laugh attack, he shouted. "I can vouch for Little Hawke too."

    Isabela grunted before squinting at him. "Don't think I didn't see you at the Blooming Rose last night."

    He blushed and looked down at Merrill, thankful she wasn't listening to this. "That's not- no I wasn't." He cleared his throat.

    "I suppose someone else stole your chin to romance Faith then?"

    Carver scoffed, avoiding the eyes of Anders and Varric, who were laughing at him. "That's unlikely, she wasn't even working." He said confidently.

    "Hm." She folded her arms.

    "Shit."

    "Got you!"

    "Carver, what would mother say?" Hawke joked as Fenris led him out of the pub.

    The commotion had woken the sleepy Merrill. "What? Is it morning already?"

    "No Kitten, don't worry. Carver is going to take you home."

    "How sweet!" She stood up, before tipping over.

    Carver steadied her. "We'll take our leave then." He blushed again, as was his habit, and slipped his hand over her shoulder to prevent her from kissing the dirty wooden floor. Varric wolf whistled as they walked away, though he knew the pirate would disapprove... and disapprove she did. Her glare was of steel daggers.

    The long walk to the alienage was awkward, Merrill swerved back and forth at high speeds and rambled on about something to do with cats and dwarves, probably Varric, but nothing else he could decipher. 'It's alright, she was adorable when she blabbered.' He thought.

    She hiccuped. "There it is!" The elf exclaimed in blind glee.

    "Hm. Lovely." It wasn't meant to be rude, but the suspicious stares of the elven community as he led the intoxicated Dalish to her home made him uneasy, though it was heartwarming that they had at least a little concern.

    He pushed the door open. It creaked and the smell of wildflower filled his nostrils. It always was her favorite, he found that out the time he had brought her a bouquet. Her smile was contagious, air borne. The memory flew by him. He swept her off her feet, filled with a sudden air of confidence.

    She giggled. "It's like I'm flying!"

    "I suppose so." He gently set her on the bed. "Goodnight, Merrill." He sighed.

    "Don't go." She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, stopping him in his tracks.

    "Oh? Why not?" He smirked.

    She jumped forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a sloppy kiss that tasted of cheap stale beer, and yet it meant the world to him.

    Carver moved away. "Are you- sure you want to do this?" He stuttered.

    "Oh.. you don't want-" Her face drooped in disappointment.

    "Oh believe me, I want to. It's just... You're- well, drunk. I can't help but feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

    She hummed.

    "You're tired, aren't you?"

    Merrill yawned and nodded her head.

    Grabbing the pillow, he pulled her forward and motioned her to place her head on it, then pulled the blanket over her still armored figure.

    "Sleep well." He mumbled before kissing her forehead.

    She was already unconscious.

    He stood up carefully and walked towards the door, then stopped. 'What if she still felt this way when she was sober? What if-' He was just happy to be friends with her, but this was her first time drinking, and she would definitely be in pain come morning. He would stay to take care of her. He spotted a place on the floor, one that wasn't completely covered in dirt or crawling with rodents. The rat in the corner was named Torald, courtesy of Merrill. He lied down and rested his head on his hands. His neck would be so very sore in the morning.