Monday Morning - Anatomy Lecture

Isabela shifted uncomfortably in the auditorium chair. Being a TA meant two things. First, she had excelled at the class; but second, she still had to sit through it all over again. She was only there to answer student questions and assist in teaching the lecture, of course. That didn't make it any less boring, especially at 8am. But it was not the elderly professor's fault, on this particular morning, that Isabela had drowned out his voice, making him as insignificant as Charlie Brown's parents. In reality, she was thinking about Hawke. She was flipping her cell phone in her hand, hoping for a text from her new girlfriend, but too big-headed to send one herself.

I wonder if she's in class right now… Probably. I'll bet Cassandra's front and center, absorbing every single word like it's the air she breathes. She's probably geeking out big time, smiling like a fool and loving every minute of it. An image of Hawke sitting wide-eyed in a stuffy classroom, regurgitating some political nonsense flashed through her mind, almost making her chuckle. Yes, but what is she wearing? Before she could ponder the question, her phone vibrated. She almost leapt out of her seat in surprise. She glanced around the room before opening the text.

"Is it too early to say 'I miss you?'" Isabela couldn't help but sigh contently. She is just killing me with cuteness! I suppose I can suffer it if it means a repeat of the other night… Who am I kidding? I'm loving all of the extra attention, in and out of bed. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she replied to Hawke's message, her eyes panning around for a sense of privacy. "That depends. What are you wearing?" I'll be ineffective all day if she says 'nothing'.

The lecture ended before she got an answer, and as she readied herself to leave, a young man approached. "Ms. Rivaini?" He was young, blonde and charming in his own right, dressed in khakis and a plaid shirt. "Hi, I had some questions about the lecture?" Her phone finally buzzed inside her purse, but she turned toward the young man instead. This had better be important.

"That's what I'm here for. Shoot." She covered her irritation with a smile, perhaps too warm of one, considering the young man's reaction.

The boy scratched at the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. "I… was kind of hoping to maybe talk over lunch, or coffee…or-?" He looked awkwardly up at Isabela. Your timing couldn't be worse, junior.

"I don't think my girlfriend would approve." Isabela cooed as she shook her head. The boy just blinked at her a few times, so she continued to elaborate, hoping he would connect the dots himself. "Rugby player. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. Built like stallion. Possessive, too." And dead sexy, but I'll just keep that tidbit to myself.

Finally he caught on and blushed brightly. "Oh… I'll just email you then." He cleared his throat loudly, staring back down at the floor. Poor sap. His balls must be tickling his vocal cords right about now.

"That'd be wise." Isabela patted the boy politely on the shoulder as he left, then immediately dug around in her purse. She clutched her phone victoriously, smiling despite having just turned down an offer of cheap thrills. "Blue jeans and a grey Monty Python t-shirt. The Black Knight's missing an arm, and he says 'Tis but a scratch!' Yeah… I'm always dressed like a total geek."

Somehow, I'm neither surprised nor disappointed. She's hot in jeans. Shit, now that I've seen her naked, she couldn't disappoint if she tried... But I like the geek look. It's just genuinely… Hawkish. The thought of defining attractiveness in terms of her girlfriend put a deep flush on Isabela's cheeks and her heart gave an approving thump. The surge of emotion made her very appreciative of being the last soul in the auditorium. "And for that reason, I miss you too."

Tuesday Evening - Rugby Practice

Hawke shuffled her feet as she entered the locker room. She had been mentally preparing herself all day, but after being caught halfway having sex on the hood of Isabela's car by one of her teammates, it was only her pride and love of the game that had her returning to rugby practice. A room full of 17 other girls, and now they all know you're a lesbian. Ok, so a few of them already knew, or at least assumed as much... But still… No, I can do this. People come out all the time. Nooo big deal. She received little, sheepish 'hi's' and an awkward wave or two as she trudged to her locker. A few stray eyes watched over her as she began to undress. Ok, if I'm the gay one, why are they staring at me? It's not a fucking zoo, people. She was down to her skivvies when a familiar face leaned up against the locker next to her. "Heyyy Red!"

"Hey Mad-Dog." Madison Durnin was Kirkwall's fly-half; a peppy, 5'7" can of whoop-ass. She didn't get her nickname by being chipper, though. Mad-Dog was the mastermind behind most of their team's plays, and as aggressive a player as there ever was. Rival players hated Hawke, but they were scared of the lanky brunette. Not only would she take you down herself, but she would sick the largest props and locks on you if it meant gaining control of the ball. Rumor was that she ran an underground fight club. But when you play as hard as Mad-Dog, you get covered in all sorts of cuts and bruises, and everyone is too scared to ask why.

"Sooo, how was your weekend?" She had a shit-eating grin, forcing Red to roll her eyes as she hopped into a pair of running shorts.

"Look, I know Kalli saw me on Saturday, and there is no way in Hell she didn't mass-text everybody on the team. Therefore, you can proceed past the point of playing dumb and just get to the heart of your questioning." The winger gave her a look that was all business as she pulled on her raggedy practice tee.

Madison just held up two fingers. "I only want to know two things. First, what is her name? Second, is she your girlfriend?" She bit her lip in anticipation and Cassandra couldn't help but chuckle.

"Isabela Rivaini is my girlfriend, yes." The dark-haired athlete tried to hide her emotions behind her locker door, but she was blushing like blood.

The ballsy brunette pushed playfully at her friend's shoulder, a mile-wide smile on her face. "And you got you some! Good for you, Hawke! Kalli said she was smoooking hot." The woman overzealously sat down on the bench, legs crossed and hands laced over one knee. "So, how was she?" She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, reminiscent of Groucho Marx.

Red just shook her head and laughed, taking the extra effort to remove her piercings and tuck them away in a small baggy. If one of these females wants to throw down, I'd rather not have the metal torn from my face. "We're not having this conversation, Mad. You've exhausted your two questions already."

"Aw, come on! I'm not gonna tell anyone. It's just intellectual curiosity is all." For a straight chick, she sure is 'curious' about a lot of things. But shit, why not? The winger was almost willing to cave, if only to stop her teammate's incessant whining, when another player decided to interrupt.

"What are you so curious about?" Jess Johnson asked as she popped her head around the corner. The dirty blonde was Red's height, except less muscular, which was fine for the position she played. She was a hooker, which meant her main jobs were to get the ball in the scrum, and then throw it to someone else. Jess wasn't a bad player; she was just a lousy person. She slept with anything that had a wallet (fat ones, especially), stripped on the weekends, and was just generally an untrustworthy individual. Who signed off on admitting her to a University like this?

"None of your business, bitch." Mad-Dog set her jaw and stared down the intruder.

The woman hardly seemed to notice the insult and just smiled, gesturing between the two friends. "You talking about Cassandra's sugar momma?"

"Go away, Jess." Hawke practically growled as she turned toward her locker, folding and re-arranging things before putting on her signature red face-paint. There goes my blood pressure. God, I hate her!

The woman didn't take the hint. "What? I'm not being homophobic or insensitive, or anything. I don't judge people."

"Good thing, too, considering your taste in sexual partners. Or lack thereof." Madison scoffed as she re-laced her cleats.

Red turned around, shutting her locker with unnecessary force. "Look, I'm just not going to discuss my sex life with you guys. I'm gay, I'm in a relationship, the end." She chopped the air with one hand, casting the conversation aside.

"Yeah, well, you know if things change…" Jess approached her crassly, placing a hand on the winger's bicep. Their blue eyes met momentarily as Hawke took a step back, combing her hair with her fingers and seething.

"How do I put this politely? I would rather fuck a loaded shotgun than let you, or anyone you've had sex with, near my genitals." They stared each other down before Red's cheek felt the distinct sting of a slap. Jess huffed loudly and disappeared, leaving the two friends to break into a fit of raucous laughter. Cassandra had to cling to her sore ribs, trying not to pull a muscle from the awesome nature of her retort. "Totally worth it!"

Mad-Dog patted her teammate on the shoulder as the two fought back their giggles. "Well, it's about time you told that slut off! I swear they named the position 'hooker' with her in mind."

Another familiar voice caused the teammates to turn around. "What is the opposite of irony?"

The voice belonged to Kirkwall's left wing, a short redhead named Tallis. No one was sure if that was her first or last name, and everyone was afraid to ask. Tallis' anti-social personality and clouded past gained her the unpleasant moniker 'Shivs', because anyone who looked at her wrong was afraid of ending up with a sharpened toothbrush in their kidney. She was agile, swift, and had a dry sense of humor, but she got along with the team well enough, despite their fear. Hawke was the only one she spent any discernible amount of time chatting with, but only because the redhead held a torch for her. "Hi Tallis," the girls said simultaneously. Madison quickly retreated with a wink, allowing the two wingers to talk in private.

"How was your weekend?" The woman asked with a smirk, her green eyes almost shining with mirth.

"Not you too!" Red groaned against the front of her locker, fixing the smeared paint of her faintly stinging cheek.

Tallis lightheartedly socked her teammate in the arm. "For someone who's recently laid, you're a little touchy. Should I call your girlfriend up? Ask her to help relieve some of your tension?" She pulled her crimson hair back into a ponytail, leaving Hawke to rub at the sore spot. The taller woman grabbed her socks and cleats from her locker and tucked away her paint before sitting on the bench to finish gearing up.

"No. She's busy anyway. Something about free ratios? …Or was it free radicals? … Participation… And half-lives. I really don't know what Isabela's doing. She lost me at 'lab coat'." A toothy smile broke over her face as she tucked the laces into her cleats.

"Kinky." The redhead reached over to mess up her friend's hair, eliciting a blush.

The right wing swatted her away and flattened her dark locks before stretching leisurely. "Get your own girlfriend."

Tallis sighed. "All the good ones are straight or taken." She looked Red up and down as she loosened her muscles, grinning licentiously. The recently spoken-for woman just shook her head. Where were you a week or so ago? Well… right here, actually... Never thought of it that way…

"Come on, Shivs. Let's go watch Aveline steamroll the rookie." After some good-natured pushing they made their way to the field, where the forwards were already working on the scrum. The rookie, a short broad named Natia, had her arms locked against Hawke's dorm-mate and they were pushing back and forth. They had been doing this for the past few practices, mostly as a matter of ego. It hardly seemed fair, considering their monstrous variance in size, but Natia was yet to back down. Damn. That girl can hold her own!

A whistle blew from across the field. "Cassandra, Tallis! If you're quite finished flapping your gums, time for some laps!" The coach, Elissa Cousland, shouted from afar. In her prime, she was a force to be reckoned with. As a coach, she went from hot to cold; fun and understanding one day, then treating everyone to hundreds of pushups the next. Some attributed it to steroid use; others thought she was simply bipolar.

"What's up with The Cooze?" Red nudged her friend with her elbow, eyeing the angry woman skeptically.

"No idea. Best get to running, though, or she'll bench us out of spite." The two just looked at each other, knowing full well they were irreplaceable. Tallis smiled mischievously, her only warning before slapping her teammate's ass and fleeing for dear life. "Tag! You're it!" Hawke stood slack-jawed for a moment, but with a growl, took to chasing the roguish redhead across the grass. They played their cat and mouse game throughout practice, earning a few raised eyebrows. Tallis had always played Hawke's suitor, but for once, she allowed herself to push back. As far as Red was concerned, it was Newton's Third Law of Flirtation: you hit on me enough times and eventually I'll hit on you back. It could be harmless fun, so long as no one got the wrong idea.

After her shower at the end of practice, Cassandra went to drink at the water fountain, having finally shaken her elfish shadow. The woman had been polite enough not to continue her teasing once they were naked. Probably a smart decision. 'Bela's got swords on her wall, and I'm pretty sure she'll use them if she sees Tallis ogling my goods. Mid-sip, a large body bumped into her, causing water to go up her nose. "Sorry, Hawke. Didn't see you there."

She turned her head to see Aveline, stone faced and already changed into her casual clothes. They hadn't seen each other since dinner on Saturday, for obvious reasons. The woman had been brooding, angry at Hawke for what she believed to be no reason at all, leaving her only two friends to worry amongst themselves. "Bullshit." She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before grabbing her friend's arm. She dragged the large redhead back to her locker and threw her against it in accusation. "Is this how it's going to be now? You're going to try and bully me into dumping Isabela? Because that is beneath you." She poked the woman square in the chest before backing off. The prop crossed her arms, jaw clenched.

"Perhaps, but she is beneath you." She stared down Hawke, who was slipping into her tennis shoes.

The dark-haired winger just grinned smugly. "She was Saturday night." Her old friend groaned loudly, covering her face with her hands. Alright, maybe that was a little low. Hawke stood to pat her teammate on the shoulder. "Ah, come on, bud. What would Merrill say?" She flashed a cheesy smile, causing the more muscular woman to back away.

"Why would I be concerned with your roommate's opinion?" She was shocked at the allusion, but also tried to feign anger. Red wasn't buying it.

"I think you know why." You're in love with her, Man-Hands. Even you're not that dense.

Their eyes met for a few moments, neither willing to back down. But something hit home with Aveline, and she turned away, quickly rounding the lockers. She paused in the exit, her body tense. "Good night, Hawke."

Cassandra just sighed. "Good night, Ave." And good luck.

Author's Note:

1. If you're wondering whether or not Aveline/Merrill will get a love story, the answer is undoubtedly yes. But with all things that involve the woman-shaped battering ram, it will be slow and tortuous and awkward. But like the winter, it is coming.

2. I am utilizing the default Warden names from DA:O. Why build a huge pool of original characters, when I have a huge pool of familiar names and faces at my disposal?

3. Jess is based off of a real person. You can divorce my brother, but you cannot escape my literary revenge. MUAHAHAHAHA. (She'll be back)