Their first fight happened on a Thursday night. Tamsin had decided to come over to Lauren's for her weekly spaghetti dinner, and was secretly planning to actually spend the night for the first time since their casual little relationship began a month ago. (There have been lots of meetings on neutral ground, lots of clothing discarded in alleyways, bathrooms, and cars, lots of 'remembering' something she forgot at home or at Tamsin's that for some reason they both had to go retrieve in the middle of the day or while at The Dal with the usual gang. But as of yet, no sleepovers.) All was going smoothly until that 6th glass of wine late in the evening and the doctor slipped up, calling Tamsin 'Bo' while her fingers traced soft circles on her hip. At first the valkyrie wasn't upset - she even laughed - but then in happened a second time. And, much later, while Tamsin was leaving sloppy drunken kisses on Lauren's neck as she came down from her climax, the doctor slurred 'Bo' yet again. And Tamsin couldn't bite back her anger - mostly due to the alcohol, she is sure. (And, though she will deny it to this very day, due in part to the fact that the valkyrie's feelings were actually hurt.)
"Really, Lauren?"
The doctor was quite obviously admonishing herself immediately, and looked up at Tamsin with apologetic eyes as the valkyrie tore herself away.
"I- I'm sorry", she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling as she often does when she is embarrassed or nervous, "I appear to be quite drunk."
"Oh. So next time we're drinking together I should prepare for you to pretending that I'm the succubitch while I'm fucking you?"
"Tamsin-"
"Should I dress more like her, Lauren? Maybe go buy some more leather, get a boob job?"
"Tamsin. Stop", Lauren looks up at her again, even more apology in her eyes now than before, "please."
The valkyrie takes a fast step towards her and pins her against the wall. She lowers her lips to just a breath away from Lauren's ear and whispers.
"Go ahead, Lauren; fuck me like you wish you could fuck the succubus."
The detective's words burn Lauren's ears as they hit. The doctor is quiet. Tamsin almost backed down when she pulled away and noticed the fire in her eyes; the ever composed woman hardly ever let her anger show (for a long while, Tamsin wondered if the doctor even ever got angry). When Tamsin heard the ire in Lauren's voice, she immediately questioned going this route.
"Fuck you, Tamsin."
But just because she knew it wasn't a good idea doesn't mean she stopped. For a centuries war maiden who has seen things beyond your imagination... she sure felt dumb sometimes. (And she knew instantly that once she was sober enough to feel it, the regret would be palpable.)
"No Lauren. Fuck Bo. Come on", the valkyrie slid her already unbuttoned jeans down her toned legs. Lauren's eyes drank in every inch of exposed skin but kept her jaw steeled. "Fuck me like you wish you could be fucking her."
The next several hours were a violent whirlwind; Lauren slammed Tamsin against the kitchen counter, knocking over glasses and a collection of research notes in the process but not caring enough to even acknowledge them. She was angry and uncaring about the entire ordeal – she bit and scratched, drawing blood and bruising the valkyrie in her most intimate places – but Tamsin returned every bite, scratch, kick and slap to Lauren as hard as it was given. If not harder. (She did ask her one time, as she bit into Lauren's shoulder while she was thrusting unforgivingly in and out of her against the counter, if she was being too rough for her. The doctor simply replied by roughly covering the valkyrie's mouth with her own and biting her bottom lip, not stopping until blood was drawn then pulling back smiling, a laugh bubbling from the doctor's throat as Tamsin came undone around her fingers. Tamsin did not ask again.)
The next morning, Lauren was immediately aware of two things as soon as her eyelids painfully fluttered open. One, she was alone. Two, she felt terrible. Too many glasses of wine had taken it's toll on the doctor in a way she hasn't experienced since her undergrad days, when her and Nadia would throw parties in their first tiny apartment together and drink way more beer than they should have.
Groaning as she rolled over, the doctor slowly sat up and attempted to stretch her sore muscles. Arms and legs full of lead, it seemed, the sheet-clad women trudged over to the bathroom to start drawing a bath (in an attempt to alleviate at least a fraction of the soreness she feels). Appraising herself in the mirror, Lauren actually shudders at the reflection staring back at her - the bite marks and bruises that cover her chest and thighs are almost bad enough to distract her from the long scratches down her forearms and across her shoulders, still crusty with dried blood.
"Long sleeves today", she mumbles out loud to no one in particular. She can at least take solace in the fact that the valkyrie probably fared no better.
Shit.
Tamsin.
Lauren sits on the edge of her bathtub and drops her head into her hands. How in the world was she going to even attempt to talk to Tamsin about what happened?
Still filled with anguish after her long bath, Lauren slowly descends the stairs in desperate need of a glass of water. She was too focused on the soreness in her muscles, then in the situation with Tamsin, to even acknowledge the pounding in her head until now. The doctor is actually surprised at what she sees as she clears the final step and drags her eyes towards the kitchen counter (noticing along the way that her living room and kitchen have been cleaned). Sitting there in the middle next to the sink is a beautiful bouquet of flowers (roses, to be exact), a small note, and (most importantly to Lauren at the time) a very large glass of water. She approaches and greedily downs the entire glass before picking up and unfolding the small index card; there, scribbled in Tamsin's almost unreadable handwriting (Lauren hypothesizes that this is due to thousands of years of trying to adapt to varying language styles... but that is a thought for a different day), it says simply "Sorry". Regret settles in Lauren's chest, taking the small note as a sign for the worst. But, as she goes to steady her suddenly wobbly legs against the counter, she notices more scribbling on the back of the index card – there, in the same barely-legible scribbling, it reads "Call me when you get up, hotpants".