Dragon Age One Shots

Autumn in Dragon Age -- Cassandra

With a lash of my foot, I kicked the door back into place. It bounced against the frame from the force but dare not unlatch unless it wanted to answer to me. Growling, I yanked off my shoe, placed one foot into the tub, and suffered a wet puddle wicking against the sock I forgot to take off. Wonderful. Just one more cherry to add to this day.

Forget the damn wet sock. I'd be ripping it off soon anyway. Reaching in through the smudgy shower curtain, I closed off the drain and started the faucet. Cool water pooled on my palm, which I shook away onto the growing wet spot to step out of the drawing bath in order to disrobe.

Midway through undoing the mess of buttons, my furious fingers didn't so much bump one as rip it off. It pinged through the air before clattering against the bathroom sink. I slapped my hand out to catch it, but watched in disgruntled acceptance as the small, white button slipped down the open drain.

"Why not? Why should I expect any better?" I snarled at both the sink drain that ate the button and the half-open shirt which I'd have to repair. Later. In this state...it was best to not think about what I'd do. Sew it to someone's face perhaps.

"Cassandra, love?" a fist knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I shouted, losing the shirt and industrial-grade bra. They piled up on the floor along with the wet sock. Every indignity of the day, growing more numerous by the minute, swelled behind my eyes and I snarled. "I'm gonna be in here a long time. If you need to use the bathroom look elsewhere."

A chuckle answered my honest snarl, his voice drifting as he walked away, "Got it."

Off went the pants to the same tiled grave as the rest of the uniform. I dug a hand into my shoulders, trying to work out a kink that'd anchor a ship. Maker, after a day like today what I needed was...

My eyes darted from the slowly filling tub to my secret drawer. It wasn't that the drawer itself was secret, only that if anyone ever looked inside I'd have to have them executed. Tugging open the handle, I plucked up my latest guilty pleasure "Seven Sands: An Erotic Sea Adventure." It was awful, bodice busting, and just what I needed.

I move to shut the drawer tight when I caught a couple plastic bottles tucked behind. Hm. About the size of those sample vodka bottles, the first one I picked up bore a label with a cutesy pumpkin wearing a face made out of whipped cream. "Pumpkin pie scented bubble bath," I read aloud, then winced hoping he didn't hear me.

Last thing I needed was him, was anyone learning that Cassandra Pentaghast sometimes enjoyed a bubble bath. Or three. Shaking off the thought, I was about to return the bottle to its hiding place when I paused. Why not? When else was lathering myself in the smells of a pumpkin pie better than while camping in the bathtub for a few hours reading a trashy novel?

Stomping over my discarded uniform, I gingerly stuck a toe in the water. The heat burned, my skin flaming red at the contact, but as I eased deeper in the pain began to dissipate to a welcoming embrace. Slowly, I slunk down into the four inch water, my heels kicking at the barely-there bath. The water all but dribbled out of the faucet meaning by the time the tub was full, it'd probably be ice cold.

No. The point of this was to destress. Forget the shoddy plumbing. I cracked open the bottle, the familiar autumn scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove clobbering my nose in an instant. Without pause, I tipped the entire bottle into the gurgling water. Orange goo oozed out of the wide mouth and plopped into the water to circle the drain like a snake guarding its nest.

A handful of bubbles already began to rise as I tossed the empty bottle onto the mat beside the tub. With my toe, I kicked the faucet up to as hot as possible and plucked the book into my fingers. Bubbles tickled against my stubbly legs as I sloshed deeper into the rising pool.

Shaking off my wet fingers, I cracked open the crinkling pages of the paperback and dove into the seventeenth century, the high seas, and lusty pirates.

"What do you think you are doing?" Constance's breath tugged upon her bountiful bosom, the dread pirate's eyes cutting a deadly path down her dress. She scoffed at such advances even as her loins throbbed from the direct attention.

"My dear," Captain Collin Blue-Eyes slammed a hand beside her coiffed auburn curls with such force the entire ship lurched to the side. She lost control of her body, the weak muscles shuddering from the display of strength even as her eyes met his.

Hot breath the scent of the ocean burned across Constance's wan cheeks as Blue-Eyes bent his face to hers. "I'm rescuing you."

Softness brushed against my fingers. I whipped my hand out, expecting to clear away a hair, but plowed through a mass. With a resigned sigh, I yanked my mind away from the story and paled. White bubbles climbed up the bathtub walls, nearly three feet and still rising as the tub filled with water.

My hand opened in shock, but I stopped myself before the paperback splattered into the tub. "What the...?" I shouted to myself, fishing for the bottle of bubble solution while also fumbling around to try and kill the water. My skin stank of a yoga studio in October, the bubbles working their way up my shoulders. Some adhered to my chin, which I had to raise higher while bringing the label closer.

"'Only use one teaspoon per bath,'" I read, then snarled. "You have to be kidding! One teaspoon from a bootle this small? Written in 4 point font?"

The ever rising bubbles, fortified in their attack, scaled my cheeks until one burst in my nose. Cinnamon burned down the back of my throat, leaving me retching to escape the flavor of vomited pumpkin pie. Still, the bubble invasion wouldn't cease.

"That's it," I shouted, hurling the empty bottle to the ground. Lashing forward, my fingers constricted around the faucet handle. I blinked against the bubble horde, trying to keep my eyes out of the soap, as I wrenched the faucet. Metal ground on metal and the entire faucet handle suddenly grew heavier.

Pop.

Fuck!

Water erupted from where the faucet handle transformed into a gaping hole. "Are you serious?!" I shouted, both hands extended as a firehose spray of water and soap solution splattered into my face.

"Cassandra?" he shouted from the living room sounding perturbed.

"I'm fine!" I screamed back. Oh shit, the book! Yanking that hand into the sky, I tried to avoid the renewed bubble horde to protect the already wet pages. With my other hand, I fished into the water to try and find the fallen handle. Water shot against my face, smearing the thick bubble concoction even deeper into my pores.

A roar burned in my throat, aching to break free as I blindly fumbled for the handle. Warm metal bounded into my fingers when there was another knock on the bathroom door. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, damn it!" I shouted back, yanking up the only solution. The feral roar released as I fought through the oncoming storm one-handed. Foolishly, I wouldn't let the trashy book fall, protecting it with my life as I slammed the broken faucet handle back into place. Water continued to spurt from the edges, but with a triumphant cry, I spun it down.

The water fell to nothing more than a scant drip, my foe vanquished. I stood in the tub, bubbles risen so high they spilled over the edge and onto the floor. They'd climbed clear up half my body, leaving me looking like some kind of rabid beast bursting out of the ocean. My chest was gasping in air, trying to escape the cloying smell, when the bathroom door burst open.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked, watching in an angry panic as his eyes swept across the mess of soap oozing into our floorboards and rugs. As they moved to stare at me panting in the bathtub holding a book aloft like a shield, he walked through the blanket of bubbles.

Warm hands cupped against my waist, his chest flattening against mine as he plucked me off my feet. The pumpkin spice bubbles seeped across his shirt like an oil stain. But his endless eyes were only on mine as he carried me safe in his arms towards the bathroom door.

I wrapped a hand around his shoulders, keeping myself steady even while staring my question at him. As he walked us across the threshold, away from the bubble horde, he whispered, "I'm rescuing you," and warmed my lips with a cinnamon-nutmeg kiss.