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Misty jade eyes watched Lauren’s slowly retreating form. Acceptance was once a luxury Tamsin believed to be unattainable, a luxury which she never would have allowed herself. It’s moments like these where she feels most guilty of her past, yet inexplicably enthusiastic about the future. It’s a heavy mixture of emotions that doesn’t quite make sense, churns her insides, tightens her chest and constricts her throat.

Her gaze moved around the doctor’s slightly more relaxed shoulders, her posture far less rigid than all the other times she and Tamsin had the misfortune of being in a room together. Her rivalry with the human over the succubus seemed so pitiful and childish now. The valkyrie had seen this bitterness destroy families and nations during her many centuries on earth. She had seen it be the root causes of wars even. It seemed foolish, she thought, that she had never learned the simplest lessons from watching the human race annihilate each other over lesser things.

Tamsin noticed the short pause between Lauren’s step, heard the sharp intake of air; the human’s clear reluctance to leave gave her all the confidence she needed. Sliding off the counter, Tamsin stepped behind her in just a few strides. She wrapped her fingers around Lauren’s wrist softly; not to keep her from leaving, but to reciprocate the doctor’s earlier actions.

“I’m sorry.” Simple words, though often spoken with a lack of sincerity and a certain displeasure. This time, however, they were uttered with a purpose to repair a trust that never existed and build a friendship in this vast, unknown territory.

Tamsin’s hold on her wrist loosened as Lauren turned around. A small smile on her lips as she grasped taller woman’s shoulder, her dark eyes reflecting the legitimacy heard in Tamsin’s words. Lauren took a breath, squeezing the muscle underneath her fingers before her gaze fell into the depths of brilliant green orbs. “I know.”

Tamsin’s brow furrowed, not from Lauren’s touch this time - which admittedly was a very new feeling - but from the thought that had infiltrated her mind: Why do I have the sudden urge to kiss her? A rhetorical inquiry, no doubt.

A thought which continued to consume her as their gaze remained locked, unwavering. A thought that, although puzzling in nature, managed to heavily influence the rationalization of her forthcoming actions.

Unconsciously, or very consciously, Lauren lifted her chin up and Tamsin tilted her head down, accommodating the difference in each other’s height, or lack thereof, just before their lips connected. The kiss was chaste, experimental and definitely confusing.

They retreated from the awkward embrace at the same time, both women having every intent to separate fully and then proceed to flush out this event out of their memory forever. The moment never came, and they were both adamant on blaming the other.

Because it was Lauren’s hand that slid behind Tamsin’s neck and pulled her down.

Or was it Tamsin’s hands finding a warm resting place on Lauren’s hips and then pulled their bodies flush against each other?

Then again, it was Lauren who moved her head sideways and parted her lips. Tamsin didn’t mean to lick her way inside Lauren’s mouth, find her tongue and have a long, non-verbal talk with it. It just happened.

And just to be clear, when Lauren pushed Tamsin against the cold, metal door and pressed her body into hers, it was only because the Valkyrie had palmed her ass with both of her hands and squeezed. Clearly, Tamsin started it.

Besides, wasn’t this the only reason Lauren started grinding her hips against Tamsin’s thigh in the first place?

The moans that were drowned in each other’s mouths were for show really. And their roaming hands? For science. Sometimes a girl’s just gotta get to know her competition, y’know?

The door to the surgery room burst open and out came walking two grinning idiots. Bo had an arm draped over the wolf’s broad shoulders as she flattened down his collar. Dyson was preoccupied by the tingling his latest romp in the sack with Bo left on every inch of his skin, yet not enough to ignore the scene before him.

The two women had separated quickly, looking shell shocked and scruffy, like a barn cat during the colder months. Tamsin’s bun was half undone and practically hanging off of her head and a corner of Lauren’s scrub was stuck behind the waistband of her underwear. The last clue that could piece together this enigma was the sight of their equally swollen, red lips.

“Oh, hey! You two are finally-weweren’tmakingout.” Tamsin blurted out quickly. Dyson snorted a laugh in response.

Bo looked both horrified and turned on, and a little confused.

Shit. Eyes wide, Tamsin chanced a glance at her recent partner in crime, who glared at her momentarily. Shit.

Since they all stopped moving and were now just engaged in the most awkward staring contest in the universe, Lauren decided that blissful ignorance was the way to go. She turned to Bo, after moving the corner of her top out of her pants, and asked “How’s the-” nodding her head at the area where there previously was a stab wound (although, as a physician, she was legitimately interested in her patient’s recovery).

“It’s, um,” there was a pause as Bo’s eyes jumped between former love interest number two and three. “All better.” She spoke slowly, her brow still deeply furrowed.

This was much more love square tension than Tamsin could handle. “Well, this is more uncomfortable than a swimsuit cameltoe, and on that note...” As she turned her back to Bo and Dyson, she mouthed ‘call me’ to Lauren and made a hasty exit.

Dyson chuckled.

“What just happened?” The succubus’ eyes would not leave Lauren’s face as she blindly searched for the wolf’s arm. “Dyson, please tell me I’m dead and this is a dream.” Or a nightmare, I can’t decide. Were they really-

Dyson continued to laugh.

Lauren pretended to be very interested in a tissue sample, ignoring both pairs of eyes she felt on her back for the next - she glanced at her watch briefly - three minutes and thirty seven seconds. She smiled.


The scooby gang were enjoying a not so quiet evening at the Dal, celebrating nothing in particular and pretending that they didn’t want to curl up into a ball and cry themselves to sleep every time they thought about the missing russian human.

It hit Tamsin especially hard. Kenzi had raised her with proper and important values like: when you eat your mouth should be full enough that it looks like the food is trying to escape and how to properly obsess over fictional characters.

Then it hit her. That’s what this fling with the human doctor was. She missed her surrogate mother and the sex with Lauren was a projection of the lack of affection since Kenzi left them - left her.

At least, that’s what Tamsin tells herself, as she’s got Lauren pinned against the wine cellar rack, her lips exploring the vast and now familiar planes of the woman’s neck. Strong legs were locked around her waist, squeezing tightly and trapping the valkyrie’s hand between their bodies, creating the friction they’re both desperately craving.

Tamsin’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own and she hadn’t realized she had slipped one under the material of the doctor’s underwear until Lauren gasped against her ear.

Moans and groans were growing louder, even though the former detective had covered Lauren’s mouth with her hand. They were both close, so close, until the wooden door swung open and our two idiots came walking in (undoubtedly to engage in similar activities), and looking positively tipsy.

Lauren’s heart hammered in her chest, or well, in her pants as that is where most of her blood was at the moment. Her automatic reaction was to deny, and deny she did, or tried. “Um, we weren’t-” Her muffled voice said behind Tamsin’s hand, but was abruptly interrupted by the owner, whom was not shy to voice her discontempt at the sudden interruption.

Lauren mentally kicked herself in the head, and then once more for good measure. It seemed useless to think she could come up with a perfectly good explanation for the reason she has her legs wrapped around Tamsin's midsection: 'oh, this? No, we're not having sex. It's a new exercise. It really works out your core muscles. What do you mean why is her hand down my pants? I'm teaching her how to perform a proper pap test'. She rolled her eyes at herself.

Tamsin threw her head back and sighed loudly, blowing out an impatient breath. “I’m sooooo getting blue balls.” She looked at the pair over her shoulder: Dyson looked amused and Bo...not so much. “Yes. Yes, we are fucking.” She stated simply, albeit a little harshly - then again, when is a displeased Tamsin not harsh? “Please leave us so we can finish and prevent my spontaneous combustion from ill-timed cockblocking, yeah?”

The succubus huffed and stomped out of the room, seething with a range of colored emotions she couldn’t quite name.

“Lookin’ sharp partner,” Dyson drawled in his best cowboy accent while he slowly walked backwards, out of the room.

Tamsin lifted her hand up, fingers placed in the universal metal horn position. “Rock and roll bub.”

Dyson chuckled, saluted them both - the doctor returned the gesture - and then closed the door behind him.

Lauren rested her hand against Tamsin’s cheek, looking up at her seriously. The colors in her eyes made it seem like caramel and dark chocolate were swirling together, as she silently gazed at the valkyrie for what seemed like an eternity; her thumb gently brushing the soft skin bellow.

Oh shit, that look’s bad. I’ve seen this in shity romantic comedies. Shit, she’s not going to say it, is she? Fuck, I’m too damn old for love confessions when I’m knuckle deep inside someone.

There was no use trying to hide her smirk. “Less rocking, more rolling,” Lauren said with a little nod of her head, lightly tapping the cheek her hand rested upon.

Tamsin’s laugh was nothing short of explosive, as she she let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in, and leaned down to kiss the doctor with renewed hunger.

Rolling she did. Over and over again, in fact, until they realized they had been locked in after closing time.

Of course Trick didn’t find them the next morning, tangled together on the floor of his wine cellar. It was all in his imagination. And he certainly didn’t blush when Tamsin winked at him lewdly as she buttoned her shirt and smacked his ass on the way out.

He did, however, make note of Lauren’s care free attitude when she jumped on Tamsin to catch an impromptu piggy back ride, as both women made their way out of the bar smiling and laughing.

By noon, all the glasses in the establishment were so incredibly polished that his first customer was almost blinded.


They lay together in content and comfortable silence. The flickering light from the television illuminated their clothed bodies in a soft blue hue, while the flames burning in the fireplace bathed them in a warm, yellow glow.

Lauren quietly sipped a glass of wine while Tamsin loosely held the neck of a beer bottle that was currently balanced on her stomach (Rupert Holmes’ ‘Escape’ may or may not be softly playing in the background).

Lauren’s back was resting against the armrest of her couch with Tamsin lounging between her legs. Lauren’s fingers absently played with the golden hair from the head that was on her chest while Tamsin’s fingers danced across the thigh of the leg that had been thrown across her ribs and plopped into her lap.

A nonsensical show about couples looking for their dream house played on the flatscreen, yet neither of them paid much attention. Neither wanted to make their relationship official, because that was a very scary thought and neither wanted to talk about it with the other, because that was equally mortifying.

So, they sat there, not having the mind blowing sex they should probably be having. Instead, they’re silently arguing with their own personal feelings, fighting doubts and insecurities with diverse metaphorical weaponry such as flamethrowers and box loads of grenades.

And then it hit her. Took you long enough dumbass. For a centuries old fae, you sure are relationship challenged. Tamsin frowned, then shook her head. She felt Lauren’s fingers still in her hair for a split second, and then relaxed her shoulders anew when they started moving again.

Was their relationship really needed to be labelled? Aren’t labels the product of the society of control freaks we live in anyways? What good is it to be reduced to a trend following sheep when we’re all extremely capable of thinking on our own?

They enjoyed each other’s company, whether naked or not. They could be doing nothing or anything, and every moment was savoured. They let things progress naturally thus far, and no words or, God forbid, promises of commitment were spoken, yet it was clear that they were exclusive.

Nothing had to change. Besides, change is an abrupt condition in which one party is at the end of the book while the other is just at the beginning. Relationships should follow a steady flow of progression.

Let the chips fall where they may, and all that junk.

Tamsin felt Lauren moving and shifting beneath her, extending her arm as she deposited the now empty glass of wine on the transparent surface of the coffee table. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, the valkyrie downed the rest of her beer and set the bottle down on the floor by the couch. She turned around, facing Lauren, and scooted down lower on the couch. Hooking both of her arms under the woman’s legs, and pulled Lauren until she lay down fully underneath her.

Slowly, Tamsin trailed her hands from Lauren’s thighs, to her stomach, around her ribs and down her arms, and then guiding them around her own neck. The doctor slowly wrapped her legs around Tamsin’s waist, not rushed or hurried in any way. Lauren's hands glided around her neck and shoulders with a tenderness never explored before.

As Tamsin leaned down, she placed both of her elbows down beside Lauren’s head and they locked eyes for a long moment, much like that instance in the wine cellar. Though this time, no joke was coming to nonchalantly brush off unwanted feelings; they both felt the weight of the emotions openly displayed in their eyes and for the first time, they didn’t hide.

They kissed tenderly and gently, as if they had an eternity to take each other in fully. As if every exploration would lead to different and new discoveries. Movements were deliberate, almost tentative, just like they were touching for the very first time. It wasn’t that far off, as this was the first time they were making love.

The tune in the background changed to Elvin Bishop’s ‘Fooled Around and Fell in Love’. Neither of the two women noticed, or neither of them wanted to mention it. Either way, they communicated everything non-verbally for the remainder of the night, and a part of the morning.