A/N: *waves* This piece has another original troll (sorry! but I really couldn't pair Tavros with anyone else properly, I fail) so be gentle with her? I don't actually care. Obviously as I beat the shit of her. Don't hate me. I promise next chapter will be more of Sol/Roxy/AR.

Tavros/OC, black. Tavros/Aradia/OC, ashen. Second person perspective, Present Tense.

You hate her.

You want to punch her face in and make her nose bleed that bright aqua blood. She can't even have a proper blood color. How lame. You might have been considered a low blood before but at least you aren't a mutant.

You just want to hip check her through the wall. You might next time she gets in your way. She is always getting in your way like you're not aware of the shit that she is pulling. You've had enough shit pulled on you that you can recognize when shit is being pulled on you.

You just want to slam her head down into the desk every time she smirks at you when you get stuck in the stalls. At least your horns are symmetrical, not some crazy amorphous ridge. Vriska's and Kanaya's at least had some poise to them. Even Equius's broken horn is better than what she wears on her head.

You just want to rip off her clothes because 'punk' is not a fashion style; it is a fashion nightmare that should be burned instead of worn out in public. Eridan had better style.

You want to kiss her to see how those bits of metal in her lips taste.

You hate Leslea Nythym.

You hear her snicker from the other side of the office as your horn taps the cabinet when you spin too quickly and carelessly to catch the hopbeast that lept over your shoulder. You see a flash of white as it dashes behind her desk.

"Leslea, would you mind, grabbing it for me? I still have to give it, like three more shots."

"Grabbing what?" You stare at her incredulously. "Sorry I was too busy making sure that you don't clothesline me with those fucking horns."

"It's under your desk."

"Why don't you come over here and get it your self? You are the one who let it go. Wouldn't mind seeing you on your knees in front of me."

"You know I don't fit. Just watch your feet. Don't want you stepping on this one, like you did that scalebeast."

You enjoy watching her face awkwardly flush aqua in embarrassment over that memory but you'll be the bigger person and not smirk over it. Much. But it does make her duck down and grab the fluffy creature. She hands Mr. Snuggykins back to you with a roll of her eyes. Why are you handling the hopbeast? Your specialty is the large beasts not the small ones. Leslea is the whiskerbeast and barkbeast whisperer, self-claimed friend of all that is small and cute, but for some reason she decided to dump this tiny beast onto your plate.

The last three shots go quickly and you set the hopbeast back inside of its carrier, wishing it happy hoppy thoughts. As soon as the lock clicks down, the carrier is swept off the table and you catch a glimpse of Leslea and her tacky faux leather skirt fleeing the room with it to return Mr. Snuggykins to its owner and get all of the credit. Again.

You quietly seethe as you put away all of the used needles and medicine back into their appropriate places. You take a deep breath and check the calendar. Huh. No one else is on the schedule today. You could actually lock up early today. But Aradia has the car so you'd have to hang out here anyways until she gets off work.

Leslea comes back humming.

Humming.

Doesn't she know how obnoxious that is. She can't even hum well. It's out of tune and not set to any regular rhythm. You can't take it anymore.

"Uhh, I was going to take the hopbeast. You know, out to the client. Because, I did all of the work, you know."

"Oh I'm sorry. Did I steal all of your thunder from patching up Mr. Snuggykins? And stop calling it a hopbeast. It's a fucking rabbit." She hops up onto the desk. People aren't supposed to sit on desks like that. People aren't supposed to sit on desks.

"A rabbit, huh. I guess... No. I'll can call it whatever I want to. And, I want to call it a hopbeast."

"You fucking idiot. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Her tone sets something boiling under your skin.

"Nothing is wrong with me."

"Yea right." She rolls her eyes at you again and something in you just snaps. Your fist is moving before you exactly give it the command but you are totally behind it as it crashes into her cheek. The hit nearly flips her backwards off of the desk, but she uses the momentum to rock forward with her own punch. You catch a manic grin just before the impact. It reminds you of a certain someone but you don't have time to think about it before the next hit is coming your way. It knocks you back a step but you regain your ground as you take a swing. When she crashes to the ground you follow her down to end up straddling her hips. Her eyes gleam wickedly and she runs her tongue over the aqua gash in her lip.

You can't take anymore and kiss her.

The salty taste of mutant blood compliments the tang of steel from the piercings. You find both to be obnoxious and instead focus on how it feels to sink your teeth into her lips. You focus on the gasps and small sounds that she makes. No, that you make her make.

She is so much cooler temperature-wise than you, you note as you pin her arms to the ground. And her curly hair is much softer to the touch than it looks as you grab a handful to pull her to your mouth. She's not very muscular though; she doesn't even move you an inch as she bucks underneath you. You know she is trying to based on the slight gleam of fear in those yellow and aqua eyes. You also see the burning hate she has for you. If you were a romantic at all, you could almost see her pupils shift into black spades for you. But this isn't a cartoon and the real thing is so much better.

"I hate you," you murmur into her mouth.

"Feeling's mutual, buddy. Now get the fuck off of me."

"I don't think so. I think, you look pretty, good on the floor."

"It's not fucking comfortable down here." She glares up at you.

"I don't care. I'm plenty comfortable."

"Fucking hell, you piss me off."

"Good." You shut her up with more kissing. Your hands press into her gray flesh around her wrists. She twists and writhes to get free but you are the one that handles the larger beasts as that's so much work for her, the princess. She usually handles the small cute things and the easy transactions with the clients. She gets to talk with them and laugh with them. She plays up what she does around the office. Going as far as stealing some of your stories to impress them. Oh you are going to make her pay for that. Usually she doesn't even break a sweat but as you mouth down to her skinny neck you taste the light sheen of sweat building up from her clammy skin.

"I hate you," she half moans, half barks at you. It feels good to reduce her to this pathetic state. You sit up a little bit and catch the black fire in her eyes. So this is what Vriska wanted. Now you get it. You chuckle lightly and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, freeing one of her own. She takes the opportunity to slug you again, knocking you up and back just enough that she gets a leg out from under you. She plants a boot in the middle of your chest and moves you the rest of the way off. You grab the tacky 'motorcycle' boot off and it slides off her foot easily despite the variety of snaps, belts, and laces that decorate the ankle. You roll your eyes at her and toss it out of the door to the reception area. She glances after it as she stands up.

"Advance or, uh, abscond," you offer.

"What the fuck?" She decides to abandon the shoe for the option of tackling you. To her it probably felt like running into a brick wall based on how she practically bounces off you. She doesn't get very far away because she managed to wrap her arms around your shoulder, her nails digging in through your shirt. Her legs come up and wrap around your waist and she draws even closer. It's now her teeth that tug and pull at your lip in a messy kiss. She draws your blood which mixes muddily with hers. You support her up with your arms wrapping around your torso. You can feel your t-shirt shredding under her nails. Skin too based on the hot lines being dragged across your back. She gets the rip to the edge and yanks the shredded cloth away from you. She leans back into your hand and looks at your appreciatively.

"Damn, Tavros. Working with those, what do you call them, musclebeasts," she sneers, "has finally given you some muscle tone."

"Uhh, thanks."

"Oh don't you dare get sappy on me. I still hate your guts, you pansy ass."

"Pansy ass? You are the one, who cuddles up to anything, that's fluffy or furry."

"Shut up!" she snarls.

"Make me."

And she does by kissing you hard.

The door chimes in the other room surprises the two of you and you spring apart. She smirks at you as you scramble around to find your jacket to cover your bare torso. Leslea just perches herself on the desk again, ignoring your narrowed glare in her direction as you hear someone moving around the reception. A familiar face peeks through the office door.

I freeze under Aradia's cursory glance. Actually it feels more like an examination.

You look like shit. Your jacket lays over your bare chest that has bronze and teal smeared over bruises and scrapes. Your lip is bitten and bleeding. You feel the shiner already swelling on your right cheek. As you duck your head in shame you see something caught on the end of your horns. A piece of her tacky mesh sleeve. You glance over at Leslea and find her in a similar state as well.

She looks hot as she leans back on her arms, legs crossed. One foot is still missing a shoe. Her clothes are still all there but not in the best of condition. Her split lip only adds to her mischievous expression that you just want to hit off. Again. She just gets under her skin, doesn't she?

When you look back over to Aradia she has just finished her own observation of Leslea. Bronze flushes your cheeks as she grins at you.

"I thought I smelled pitch in the air."

You truly want to duck and hide but your horns render that point moot.

"Uhh... Hi, Aradia. Um... we can head out, now." You start looking around for your stuff.

"Nope."

You freeze where you are. Leslea laughs at your moment of panic.

"What do you mean, nope?"

"The two of you look like a mess."

"I did my best. He looks good."

You shoot another glare in her direction.

"No." Aradia steps fully into the room and starts bustling about. "None of that right now. I think the two of you have done your damage." She grabs a towel from the cabinet and wets it in the sink. Meekly you do let the black feelings simmer down. Instead you let the ashen glow from Aradia's care wash over you as she cleans up the blood across your chest. You take off the jacket to give her access to your back and lean over the examination table. Behind you, you can hear movement from Leslea trying to slip away. Aradia's presence disappears briefly.

"Nope. You are next, young lady. You are just as rough as he is and don't need to be going out into public like that."

You can hear the pout in her voice as she responds with, "Fine. But I'm not as bad off as him. I can at least keep my clothes on." You bristle a little at that but Aradia turns back to you with the cloth against your back and you calm down. Huh, this must be what it is like to have an auspistice. There aren't any scrapes that need bandaging thankfully, most of them have already stopped bleeding, and so Aradia finishes up with you quickly. As you shrug back into your jacket, Aradia points to the nearby chair and humbly your oblige.

Aradia rinses the cloth and turns to clean Leslea up next. You try and fail or hide your prideful grin as Leslea flinches at the soft cloth when it touches her wounds. You guess living on Alternia and being friends with Vriska really did toughen you up. Of course nothing will really compare to the pain of broken legs or the pain of a lance through the chest...

The only bandage required is just a small one for Leslea's lip just to hold it together so that it can heal properly. The two of your might need some bags of ice for your respective black eyes, but other than that, the damage was fairly minimal.

"So, are the two of you finally official?"

You stare at each other. She still looks hot, even without the excess blood covering her chin. And if her infuriating smirk is anything to go by, she thinks the same about you.

"Hate you," she sneers.

"Hate you more."

"Well, I guess that settles it. Now, you can't be hate-snogging at work. You'll have patients to take care of and clientele to appease. When something does happen here, let me know so I can bring extra clothes," Aradia looks pointedly at you as if it was your fault your shirt got shredded, "or troll-sized bandages. Leslea, here is my number. Keep me in the loop about your hate dates as well. Now Tavros, We'll head out now." She grabs her bag and leaves the office, her skirts swirling out behind her.

"So I guess she's official too, isn't she? Nice to know someone has your back."

"Your back too, you know."

"I always thought she was a little pale for you. Works out."

"It does. Well, I shouldn't keep her waiting. Be ready for tomorrow. Full schedule for, uh, both of us, it looks like," you tell her as you glance at the calendar. When you turn back towards her you find her standing right in front of you. She grabs your chin and pulls you down, kissing you roughly on the lips.

"I hate you." She saunters out of the room.

You think to yourself that this is going to be fun and follow out after you hear the chimes on the door.