The Annual Spring Gala

*Isabel is the only OC that belongs to me.

Alistair hated suits. They were uncomfortable and restricting, not to mention expensive. He hadn't worn a suit since he graduated from F.U., and yet, here he was, wearing one now…

"Alistair, stop grimacing at yourself in the mirror and zip up my dress," Isabel demanded, and he did as requested. Once zipped up, she turned around, taking a deep breath and shaking out her hair that she'd spent almost an hour doing. A sly smile spread across her face as he gaped at her, his jaw dropped at how stunning she looked.

The dark purple, floor-length gown she wore fit her perfectly. It showed just the right amount of skin, and brought out the green of her eyes. Her hair, nails, and makeup were perfect, as always, and she even wore his favorite perfume. She smelled good and she looked fantastic—he didn't expect anything less.

"So, yes to the dress, then?" she asked, giggling.

"Yes, definitely yes," he breathed, nodding. "You look beautiful, Izzy."

"Thank you." She stepped up to him and grabbed both ends of the tie around his neck, starting to tie it. "You look very handsome yourself," she said, focusing on her task.

"I don't know about that."

Isabel finished the tie and smoothed out the lapels of his jacket before taking a step back and taking him in. She bit her lip and her eyes widened the slightest bit as they raked over him. "God, Ali, you really clean up well."

"Izz—"

"I've seen a lot of men in suits in my time, and you may just take the title of 'best dressed,"' she said.

"You're biased," he pointed out, and she laughed.

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter. You still look fantastic. I'm going to have to keep my eye on you or else that evil wench is going to try to sweep you away from me."

"Who's the wench again?"

"Sarah, the one who used to be my friend but hates me because I supposedly stole her boyfriend," she answered, running her fingers through his hair to straighten it out.

"Right."

"It's a complete load of crap," she said, gently caressing his face as she pulled her hand away. She sighed, smiling at him, and he smiled back. "Ready to go?"

"No."

Isabel snorted a laugh and grabbed his hand leading him out of his—their—apartment.

It wasn't long before the two of them arrived at F.U.'s Annual Spring Gala, the event Isabel called "ostentatious, but necessary to attend" if you were on the board. He didn't get how the whole "you have to attend if you're on the board" thing worked—it was a rich person thing, and he was nowhere near rich.

Isabel made polite conversation with the other guests, while he stood by her side and tried not to tug at his collar, lest she start glaring at him. Every time one of the servers passed by with a little platter of hors d'oeuvres, he'd grab a little cheese cube to munch on while they made the rounds through the guests. Isabel did most of the talking, but he'd throw in statement or two when he wasn't too preoccupied with the cheese.

As Isabel dragged him across the large dining hall, Alistair caught a quick glimpse of Zevran and Rosaia on the dance floor, the redhead scowling as she tried to dance with her boyfriend. It was quite a sight to behold, and if he wasn't afraid of getting punched, he would have brought it up the next time they spoke.

They weren't the only familiar face he spotted in the crowd. Varric and Aysunn were there, and Isabel fawned over the "gorgeous" and "lovely" teal dress the woman was wearing. Dorian was being his usual charming self, having dragged along a student who seemed he would much rather be hiding away from the crowd. They said a quick hello to Talia and Cassandra, the rugby player looking about as pleased to be wearing a suit as Alistair did. That singing, redheaded cheerleader was also in attendance, along with a dark-haired student he recognized from around campus—one of the Hawkes, if he wasn't mistaken.

There were also numerous M.A.G.E members at the party that Alistair recognized from the few meetings Isabel had taken him to. According to her, Finn looked "disastrous," but Olavi and his girlfriend, who was wearing a "stunning" gold dress, looked fantastic, and should have been the ones to dress Finn. While Yael wasn't in attendance herself, her boyfriend was, looking very uncomfortable among his fellow fraternity brothers. Solona and Daylen were also in attendance, with another dark-haired man in tow.

Alistair recognized the man as Nathaniel Howe, and he tensed, grabbing Isabel's hand and tugging her to the opposite side of the room to avoid a confrontation with him. He doubted Nathaniel knew what a snake his father was, but Alistair couldn't be too careful. When Isabel had first brought up going to the Gala, she said it would be the first time she'd be attending without her family. It was why he'd agreed to suffer wearing a suit to go with her—that and the fact that she could be very persuasive.

In his effort to keep Isabel out of an uncomfortable and potentially hostile situation, Alistair accidentally dragged her right into right into Nathaniel's father… the very last person she needed to run into.

"Miss Cousland," he greeted, sneering at her.

Isabel stood tall in the face of the man who'd gotten away with killing her family, inclining her head to the man. "Mister Howe," she replied, her voice steady, concealing the rage and hatred she felt towards him. If Alistair were in her place, he'd probably have punched the guy—but unfortunately Isabel had lots of practice in dealing with the man because of all the board meetings they both attended.

"I see you decided to show your face at this event despite the way you've been handling your parents' company and their seat on the board," Rendon Howe stated. "I doubt your parents would approve of your decisions," he glanced to Alistair, frowning, "business or otherwise."

Isabel tightened her grip on his hand at the outright insult, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of her fingers to try and soothe her. She hid her emotions like a pro, but Alistair knew her well enough to see that she was fuming inside. He needed to get her out of there fast.

"Well, look at that, I think they're about to bring out the real food!" Alistair interjected, pulling Isabel away from her family's murderer. He led her to the small, secluded area by the restrooms, and as soon as they were alone, she let out a shaky breath, blinking back tears.

"I hate him, I hate him so much," she said between heaving breaths, trying not to cry.

"I know you do, love," he murmured, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away loose tears.

"He killed them and he got away with it," she muttered. She sniffled, starting to shake. "He took them away from me and now I'm all alone."

Alistair pulled her into his embrace as she started to sob, unable to hold back her emotions anymore. "You're not alone, Izzy, you have me," he said against the top of her head. He rubbed her back and whispered words of love and comfort to her as she cried.

He continued to hold her close even after she calmed down, until she finally lifted her head from his chest and met his gaze, sniffling.

"Thank you, Ali," she said quietly. "I don't know what I would do without you." She let out a deep breath. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he replied, wiping away her tears again. He shot her a lopsided grin and she quirked a curious eyebrow at him. "You look like a raccoon."

"Dammit!" she shouted, quickly opening her purse and digging out the mirror she kept inside. Her eyes widened when she saw her ruined makeup in her reflection, and she gasped, appalled at herself. "Oh, god, it's horrible."

"You know you can just do it over, right?" he asked with a chuckle, and she glared at him for laughing at her.

"Yes, of course I know that," she snapped. "There's just no way I'm going to be able to do my eyeliner that perfect again."

"Well, while you sit in the bathroom for a half-hour re-doing it, I'll grab some more of those delicious cheese cubes, and then when you're done, we can try to have some fun," he proposed. "I'll even dance with you."

"You can't dance," she said with a giggle.

"I'll gladly suffer through a dance for you," he said, and she grinned, nodding. She went to step into the bathroom, but he caught her hand and pulled her up against his chest, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

"What was that for?" she asked, breathless.

"I like it when you smile, raccoon eyes and all," he replied, and not only did she smile, shelaughed again, too. Alistair smiled back, pleased with himself. Isabel sighed and affectionately trailed her fingers down his face.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

"Take your time. I've got plenty of cheese cubes to hunt down."

She snorted a laugh and planted a kiss to his cheek before heading into the bathroom. Alistair watched her go, grinning like the lovesick fool that he was.

Once her little breakdown was over and her makeup reapplied, Isabel actually had an enjoyable time at the Gala thanks to her boyfriend. Alistair kept her mind off the fact that her family wasn't with her at the event for the first time in her life. They avoided the bastard that caused it all, and everything went well.

Isabel even started to get frisky after a while. It wasn't her fault, though; Alistair was dressed up, and the suit she picked out for him looked absolutely fantastic on him… so fantastic she wanted to rip it off his body and revel in the delights hiding underneath. Her desires had to wait until after the party was over, since they couldn't risk getting caught in a storage closet at such a fancy event—though she did bring up the idea a few times just to see Alistair blush.

It took her all of three seconds to pull him into a frenzied kiss once they were in the privacy of the car she'd hired for the night. He didn't object when she hiked her dress up and straddled his lap, their hands wandering as they heatedly kissed. They were so distracted by each other that they almost didn't realize it when they arrived back home.

The elevator ride up to their floor was a torturous one. Isabel would have pounced on Alistair as soon as the doors closed if the friendly old lady from their floor hadn't gotten on right after them. She sighed in irritation, trying not to glare at the woman who was trying, and failing, to conceal the way she eyed their disheveled appearances. When the elevator finally opened up on their floor, the old woman slowly waddled out into the hallway, Isabel biting her lip to prevent herself from telling her to hurry the fuck up.

The two of them civilly walked to their apartment hand in hand, and as soon as the old lady had entered her own apartment, Alistair had Isabel pressed up against the door of theirs, his lips busy trailing kisses down her throat while he fumbled with his keys. She did not know he could multitask like that.

They barreled through the door, laughing as they almost tripped over each other. Bear came running up to them, happily wagging his stubby tail as he greeted them. After a few pets and face-licks, Isabel told the dog to be a good boy and "guard the door," and he did as he was told, obediently lying down next to the front door. She turned her attention back to Alistair, grinning mischievously at him as she kicked off her heels and grabbed his hand, leading him into their bedroom.

She closed the door behind them—she didn't want Bear jumping up on the bed in the middle of things like he did that one time—and turned around. Alistair stepped up behind her, his chest to her back, gathering her hair and placing it over her shoulder, the light brush of his fingers against her skin sending tingles down her spine. His lips found her neck again as he unzipped the back of her dress and pulled the straps off her shoulders, the dress sliding off her body and pooling at her feet.

Isabel turned around and smirked when she saw him swallow hard as his eyes raked over her near-naked body. He stared at her bra, his mouth hanging open just a bit, which prompted her to giggle.

"Isabel," he started, to preoccupied with staring to form words. "You… you're wearing…"

"This is your favorite set, right?" she asked, gesturing to the lacy, black bra and panties she wore. Alistair nodded, his amber eyes darkened as he reached for her. She clicked her tongue, tsk-ing him, and he dropped his hands back to his sides. "It's hardly fair that I'm standing here almost naked and you're still in all these clothes," she purred, sliding her hands up his shirt and over his shoulders, pushing his jacket off. She reached up and pressed a teasing kiss to his lips before pulling away, stepping out of his reach.

"You little minx," he growled, and she giggled again as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

"Strip," she commanded, and he obliged, his amber gaze on hers the entire time. Alistair practically ripped off his half-unbuttoned shirt, tearing his belt from his pants before kicking off his shoes and pulling his pants and underwear off in one swift motion.

It was Isabel's turn to stare, and she did, unabashedly, her eyes roving over every muscle on his athletic body. If he had caught her looking at him like that at any other time, he would have blushed, but in that moment he was too hot and bothered to care.

He advanced on her, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss and crawling over her as she settled back onto the bed. Their hands traveled, roaming over each other's skin, desperate to feel each other as their bodies intertwined and moved against one another. Isabel's underwear was gone within seconds, haphazardly tossed to the side, Alistair's hands sliding over her newly exposed skin. His lips followed his hands, stopping to lavish attention to every place on her body that made her moan, until he found himself between her legs. He built her up and brought her tumbling over the edge, his name on her lips as she tensed and shuddered, pleasure radiating throughout her body.

After a brief recovery, Isabel tugged him back up and kissed him hard, moaning into his mouth at the taste of herself in his kiss. She rolled him onto his back and straddled him, scraping her fingernails down his chest and abdomen before soothing the raised, red marks with her lips and tongue. Pressing one last, tender kiss to his lips, she sat up, positioning herself over him.

She bit her lip and gasped, her eyes falling closed as she sank down onto him in one fluid motion. Alistair hissed, his eyes shut tight, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. For a long moment, neither of them moved, enjoying the simple pleasure of being joined together.

"Isabel," he breathed, his voice rough as he quickly sat up, pressing his lips to hers. She hooked her legs around him and wrapped her arms around her neck, his strong arms holding her close as they kissed. Locked in an embrace, they slowly started rocking against each other, panting and gasping as they moved. The feeling of him inside her, the closeness of his sweaty skin sliding along hers, his familiar scent, his deep moans and grunts… all of it only served to drive her closer to the edge, pleasure building up inside her as she got closer to her peak.

Finally it was all too much, and they desperately clutched each other as they reached their end, crying out each other's names one last time. Isabel rested her forehead against his as they recovered, Alistair nuzzling his face against hers. He lay back, bringing her with him, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck as he hugged her to his chest. They were quiet, content to simply be in each other's presence, their frantic breaths and heartbeats slowly returning to their normal, steady pace.

"I had a feeling the night would end like this," Isabel murmured, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

He smiled, that lopsided grin of his that she loved, and she lightly ran her fingers over his jaw. "Is that why you wore the fancy lingerie?"

She snorted a laugh and nodded. "Of course," she said. "As soon as I saw you in that suit, I wanted to rip it off of you. I figured I'd prepare."

He chuckled, and she propped her head up, gazing down at him with a smile. His eyes caught onto something, and his brow furrowed as his hands stopped gently rubbing her back. Alistair brushed her hair over her shoulder before running his thumb over the skin on her neck.

"What is it?" she asked, attempting to see for herself.

"I accidentally gave you a hickey," he replied with a frown. "I don't think your clothes are going to cover it."

"That's what makeup is for," she said with a giggle. "Though I might just leave it alone. When the wench sees it at the board meeting on Monday, she'll be jealous that I had a rather fantastic weekend and she didn't." She snorted. "Serves her right for hating me for no reason." She expected a joke or a blush or something, not a deepened frown as he stared at the blemish on her neck. Something was wrong. "Ali, what is it?"

"Do you think your parents would have approved of me?" he asked, his amber eyes snapping up to hers, a disheartened look in his eyes.

Isabel knit her brows together, shocked he would ask such a thing—and then she remembered the incident at the Gala and everything made sense. "You don't truly believe what that bastard said, do you?"

"Izzy," he said, sighing. "I'm just a lowly gym teacher. You're in charge of an entire corporation and nameless charities, and you have a seat on the board… you're important."

"So are you!" She shook her head, caressing his face with her hand, forcing him to keep looking at her. "I know I can get wrapped up in my appearance, but I am not ashamed of being with you. I don't care what anyone says, it's not going to change how I feel about you."

"Even if your parents disapproved? If they were alive, would you go against their wishes?"

"Yes, I would" she said confidently. "But that doesn't matter, because they would have loved you."

"You don't know—"

"Yes, I do, they were my parents," she interrupted. "You're kind and caring and you make me laugh… God, Ali, I hadn't laughed for months after they died, until I met you. I didn't feel anything but oppressive sorrow and guilt, and without you I'd still be stuck going to the gym every morning with my bow, trying to hide away from the world." She sighed, biting her lip as she blinked away the tears in her eyes. "You helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart. I needed a push, and you gave it to me, and there's no way I can ever thank you for that."

"Oh, Izzy," he said, cupping her face in his hand. "You don't need to thank me. Your love is all I could ever ask for."

"And you have it," she breathed, leaning into his touch. "You have all of it, I… I love you so much, Alistair."

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "I love you, too." Alistair lifted his head and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. Isabel could feel how much he loved her in that kiss, and in return, she tried to convey just how much he meant to her.

When the kiss broke he grinned at her, and she huffed, beaming back at him. He pressed a final kiss to her forehead before she settled back against him, nestling her head against his chest, his hands resuming their gentle journey up and down her back. The sound of his heartbeat soothed her, lulling her closer and closer to sleep.

"Isabel?" he whispered, unsure if she was still awake.

"Hmm?"

"You should cover up the hickey… with makeup… just to be safe."

She smiled. "As you wish, love."