Grad AU time! Could there be...the glimmers of a plot? WTF is plot doing in fluff barf?!
Lavellan waited almost a week. A week of hurried smiles during the morning rush, of staring at her laptop until her eyes swam, of trying to come up with any solution other than asking Solas for help. It wasn't just about creative ownership, or asking an already overworked grad student to lend a hand.
It was just...him. Solas made her stomach tie itself into knots. Solas made her wonder if she finally had a way past her mental block. She drummed her fingers along the top of the pastry case, a huge elvhen-common dictionary spread across her lap. How had so much knowledge leaked out of her head in the year since she graduated?
"Here," said Cole's voice over her shoulder. She looked around to see him with two muffins in hand.
"You know Cass doesn't like it when we take them from the pastry case."
"I didn't. I made them for us."
The first bite was less of a muffin, and more of an explosion of random flavors. Artificial cherry, cocoa, yogurt chips, poppy seeds, cinnamon--Cole must have dumped half the contents of a baking aisle into the batter. She had to chase it down with a hasty gulp of coffee.
His face fell. "You don't like it."
Lavellan carefully put down the muffin and her coffee. "The texture's great," she said, and that was the truth. Soft, fluffy, and not too sweet. "Where did you get the recipe?"
"Sera."
That explained it. With the way Sera cooked, Lavellan couldn't believe Cole had come up with something remotely edible. "Hey," she said to Cole, who was now staring at the tops of his grass-stained sneakers. "The next time you want to bake, let me know. I'll show you how to balance the flavors."
He perked up at bit at that. "I wanted to see you smile," he explained. "You looked worried."
"I'm not worried. I just--"
Her explanation would have to wait. The door clattered open and Solas walked in with a thick stack of exam papers under his arm. Lavellan glanced up at the clock, fingers automatically removing her nametag.
"You're early," she said.
"Professor Ameridan shortened discussion this week. He said the students deserved a break after their exam." His mouth pressed in a flat, disapproving line, and Lavellan couldn't help but snicker.
"You're such a grumpy old man," she teased. "It won't kill them to have a few hours off."
"If they are not here to learn, why even bother attending class?" Solas dropped the papers on the nearest table with a heavy thud, sat down, and pulled out a bright red pen.
"Life experience. Making mistakes. Drinking on a weeknight," said Lavellan, squeezing his cup of decaf on the last few available inches of the table.
"They certainly excel at the latter--" Solas caught himself and chuckled. "And I suppose that's your cue to accuse me of hypocrisy?"
"I wouldn't dream of it."
She expected Solas to go right to his exams, but instead, he pulled up a second chair and gestured for her to join him. Lavellan glanced around; there were only two other patrons in the coffee shop; grumpy-looking Roderick, and a kindly old lady in Chantry robes trying--and failing--to make conversation with him. Cole was nowhere to be seen. The way that kid could just disappear sometimes--
"Lost in thought?" She blinked and realized he was still holding out the chair for her.
"It's been a weird week," she said. The chairs were so close together that their elbows brushed when she sat down. "I missed you over the weekend."
The words came tumbling out before she could stop them, but Solas didn't seem to mind. "Dorian turned in his written qualifications on Tuesday. I promised to help him with the final draft. It was either that, or watch him tear his mustache out of nerves."
Lavellan laughed with him, but she lingered on the shadows under Solas's eyes. He certainly looked more tired than he had last week. She'd just made up her mind not to bother him for help when he leaned back, eyes alight at the huge dictionary still resting against the register.
"Yours or Cole's?" he asked.
"Mine," she admitted after a moment's hesitation. "I can't say I remember much from undergrad, though."
"If you do not practice language, you lose your sense of its rhythm."
Easy for him to say. The few bits of elvhen she'd heard from him were more like music than speech. "I probably didn't have the rhythm in the first place." Her professor in undergrad had focused more on the academic study of elvhen--reading and writing old fragments instead of actually using the language.
"Nonsense. It is a skill, like any other." He smiled, and there was a fleeting pause before he added, "If you like, I can teach you."
Lavellan caught her breath, hardly believing her own luck. "Be careful what you offer," she said, trying not to sound too eager. "Aren't you already busy?"
Solas raised his eyebrows at her. "Harellan, you are giving me an opportunity to practice my elvhen and spend time with you. How could I refuse?"
"I...ah..." She took a deep breath to try again. "Well, when you put it like that, I can't refuse either."
His smile brightened, eyes suddenly alight with interest. He got up and retrieved the dictionary, looking from it to her and back. "I admit, I'm curious about your interest. Few people decide to pick up a 'dead' language for fun."
It only took a moment to make her decision. After all, he had asked. And he seemed genuinely interested in sharing what he knew.
"What do you know about music?" she asked.
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