Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue Ch. 01

"Makes sense, since my tits are the Gold Standard!" She doubled over with laughter and I had to grab her by the waist to keep her from falling forward, somehow getting her back upright while struggling to keep my groin off her ass. Her laughter stopped with a hiccup. "Oh, bother. Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed but I have a SIZABLE bosom, and ordinary bras aren't up to the task."

Her shirt had fallen back down. I raised it again and, since I needed both hands to try to unhook this thing, I grabbed it with my mouth. This meant I had to do my work blind and there was a fair bit of fumbling, during which my chin ended up against the smooth skin of her back. After what seemed like forever I managed to pop the lock. Tish sighed happily at the release and started pulling and shifting before I was able to spit out her shirt, and as I pulled away I did my best not to think about the lingering contact.

A few seconds later she finished her contorting magic and extracted the bra out of her left sleeve hole, tossing it over her shoulder before making a half-spin and collapsing onto the bed. I'd neglected to pull the sheets back so there were irritated grunts and groans as I did my best to get her tucked in. She wrapped her arms around a pillow with a big sigh, a grin splitting her face.

"That's nice. Y-you're a good dude, my dude. Taking care of me and shit."

"No problem. Not like you puked on me or anything."

She pouted a bit. "Not gonna barf, just tired."

I'd been debating whether or not I should leave her alone but she sounded pretty confident. "I will leave a garbage can next to the bed, though. Oh, let me get you more water."

"Cool," she whispered, already drifting off. "Love you, Bear."

I went back into the kitchen and poked around until I found a big plastic cup, which I filled. By the time I got back to the bedroom she was out cold. I put the cup on the nightstand and gave her a soft kiss on her temple.

"Night, Tish. Love you, too."

Her response was a gentle snore. With a smile, I headed out.

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Three things happened on Saturday that I had not expected:

One: As opposed to my usual 'old man comes in with twenty minutes left' role I showed up for my match to find out we only had sixteen players and that I'd be playing the full eighty minutes at flanker. It wasn't a big deal - I had the stamina and even if I didn't it wasn't as if I could run any slower than I usually do anyway - but I'd be achy tomorrow. Sucks when seven of the young bucks on your team all have to go to the same wedding out of state but welcome to the world of D3 men's rugby. Because I was busy running all over the field it took me until almost halftime to notice...

Two: Near the end of the first half I had looped in to support the backs and tackled the other team's outside center into touch, the two of us bouncing and skidding until we ended up in a tangled heap a few yards out of bounds.

"Yes indeed, I do love me a pile of sweaty men at my feet. I mean, who wouldn't?"

Recognizing the voice, I turned my head to see Tish towering over me. To say I was surprised was an understatement, as in all the years I'd known her she'd never expressed so much as an iota of interest in watching me play. "What are you doing here?"

"Right now? Watching you hug a guy." She took a step back as the other player and I disengaged from one another. "I came here because I put two large on the team you're playing. I thought you were only in at the end of the game." Tish flashed her killer grin. "If I'd known you were starting I would have made it four hundred."

"Take that money and rent yourself a date for tomorrow instead."

"Ha! Nice try, but you're not escaping your destiny to be on the arm of a goddess that easily. Now go get lifted up by your balls again or whatever that crazy shit is." She made a shooing gesture.

I rolled my eyes as I scrambled to my feet, but she wasn't wrong. For lineouts - the way the ball was put back into play after it went out of bounds - I was a jumper, which meant two of my teammates lifted me up in the air so I could either catch or intercept the incoming pass. When we had our usual starters here I trusted the lifters to hoist me up by my knees and thighs, but with what we'd cobbled together today I was getting lifted by my shorts, which didn't get me as elevated but offered an easier grip and less likelihood of me getting dropped on my head from several feet up. The flip side was that, as Tish alluded to, it can be a wee bit constrictive in the groin area. Ours not to question why...

A few minutes later the whistle blew for halftime with us holding a 22-10 lead, and since we rarely did much strategizing I ambled over by Tish, who watched my approach with obvious amusement. "You do this by choice?"

Grabbing my sports bottle from my bag, I took a healthy swig of Gatorade before responding. "Those who know, no explanation necessary. Those who don't, none will do." I wiped at my sweaty brow, giving her the once over as I did so. In yoga pants and a loose-fitting Arizona State tee-shirt that failed to conceal her muscular arms, she looked utterly unique, beauty and power in one well-shaped package. I shook my head in an attempt to clear out thoughts like that which had been making themselves all too prevalent as of late. "Do you at least have the common courtesy to be hung-over from last night?"

"No, because some thoughtful person put me to bed and left me a huge cup of water, most of which ended up being consumed and not spilled all over myself and the bed." She paused, raised an eyebrow. "Not all of it, though."

"Sorry?"

She waved a hand. "Yeah, I'm super-upset about a moist spot on the pillow. The one from my drool was twice the size." Lifting her chin up, she gave me a nod. "Thanks for taking care of me. Of course, we do need to talk about how I woke up braless, you perv."

"Hey, wait," I spluttered. "I didn't... I mean, there was no..."

Tish doubled over with laughter, her volume and exuberance causing several nearby heads to turn our way. After several long moments she managed to regain enough composure to speak. "You... your face looks like someone spilled to-tomato soup on it. Ahhhhh, I forgot how easily you blush." She took a deep breath and stood back up. "I'm teasing you, you doofus. I was drunk and all but I still remember your deft and bloodless bra removal technique." After another laugh she added, "I appreciate your respect. It cost you a sight you'd never forget, but it's appreciated."

If it matched what my imagination had come up with for my late-night shenanigans she was right about that. "Well, sorry I'm not creepy and shit. I can work on upping that, if you want."

"No, that's okay. Although with this insane game you play I don't understand why you don't have a whole mess of scars to show off."

I had something witty to say - really, I did, absolutely - but at that moment Puddles called for me. "Hey, Knock-knock! Get over here, got shit to discuss."

Oh, the smirk on her face. "'Knock-knock?' What's that?"

Ah, shit. "Uhm, just my rugby nickname. Everyone has one." I started to walk away. "I gotta go."

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"Remind me and I'll tell you later," I said, fervently hoping she'd forget before later rolled around. Which she did, at least for a while, which brings us to our final unplanned event...

Three: Despite our depleted numbers and only a single sub we were getting the job done, holding a 29-15 lead with about ten minutes left. I'd taken a pass and, after being tackled, put the ball behind me while my teammates rucked over (it sounds dirty, but it's not). After our scrum half Middles spun the ball out and players moved on I started to rise, which then permitted me to serve as an excellent example of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unbeknownst to me the play had flowed back in my direction due to Bobblehead taking a scissor pass. The player that tackled him did so mainly by grabbing his jersey and flinging him around and down, during which one the aluminum studs on Bobblehead's airborne and spinning boots managed to clip me just above my right eye. It wasn't a super-hard contact - I didn't feel the disorienting sensation of a concussion - but it hurt like a mothereffer. I managed to finish standing up, taking some comfort that it hadn't caught me in the mouth instead, and rucked over Bobblehead as he hit the ground. When I looked up to see if anyone on the other team was going to contest it I met the wide, staring eyes of someone a few feet away from me who then went pale before backing off. A few seconds later the ref blew his whistle and I stood up, wiping the copious sweat out of my eyes.

Oh.

That wasn't sweat.

I could feel a line of fire right above my eye. I went to reach for it but Puddles grabbed my hand, shook his head, and started dragging me off the field. The touch judge - one of our injured players - ran to meet us, producing a small towel that he pressed against my forehead. That REALLY hurt and I started cursing, but neither of them paid me any mind. At this point I managed to look down and saw my thighs had a decent amount of blood on them, which I had to assume was mine. Well, that couldn't be good. I started veering toward our first aid kit, a fishing tackle box loaded with (hopefully) everything that could possibly be needed to get a rugger back out on the field. One of our players was a med student, but of course he was at the wedding. Oh well.

"Puddles, get back out there. I'm fine, I'll be ready in a minute."

"You okay? You know where you are?"

"Yeah, whatever hit me was glancing. Sharp too, I guess. Use Streaker as a blood sub."

"You sure?"

"About Streaker playing flanker? Not really, but we don't have any other options until you want to play with only thirteen since Ox is in the sin bin." He started to say something, but I cut him off as I dropped to a knee by the first-aid kit. "I'm fine, really. Let me get this taped up. And thanks."

He gave me a dubious look but trotted off, leaving me struggling to get the box open with one hand.

"Here." Tish knelt down next to me, pushing away my flailing attempt and popping the box open. She gave me a sideways glance filled with concern before turning her attention to the contents. "You okay? Feeling dizzy, disoriented?"

I almost shook my head before remembering that I had a bleeding cut. Derp. "No, I'm fine. More of a graze than anything else."

She blew air through her lips. "A graze. You look like the one-sheet for a axe murderer horror flick." Pulling out tape and some large gauze pads, she also grabbed a nearby bottle of water before turning in my direction. With a motion toward my hand she said, "Okay, take that away and prepare some choice words that can express your general displeasure when I dump this on the hole in your face."

"Water? Why would you - AWWWWW FUCK!" I was too busy scrunching up my face in pain to further elaborate.

"So, if the wound is contaminated you should use an antibacterial but that can slow down the healing process, so water is fine here. They'll clean it up at the hospital anyway." Her hands kept moving while she talked and I felt a different type of discomfort as she pressed the gauze pads into place.

I blinked a few times. "Why do you know that?"

Her voice was arch in reply. "My major was Sports Medicine, thank you very much."

"I thought your major was Sports Analytics."

"That is also one of the three majors I had, along with Psychology. Remember, I was red-shirted as a freshman so I had some extra time."

I stuck out my lower lip. "That's pretty fucking impressive."

"Damn right it is," she agreed. "It was also free because I was a pillar of softball-playing awesomeness so I will continue to accept you being awestruck. In the meantime, is it okay if I wrap tape around your head?"

"I mean, that's what I do when I play second row anyway, so of course you can."

"Cool, I have no idea what that means but am going to press on as if I did." She ended up using a combination of smaller pieces in concert with the wrapping and in a short amount of time leaned back, satisfied. "Not a drop of blood to be seen. All you need is a fife and you're ready to do some Revolutionary War reenacting."

I grabbed the bottle from her and used the remaining water to wash the blood off my hands and thighs. "Sounds good. I'll try it after the game. Thanks for fixing me."

She grabbed at my arm as I stood up. "Wait, what? You're not going back out there, are you? You need stitches!"

"And I'll get them," I said, gently pulling myself free. "Right after we finish."

Tish didn't respond, perhaps too stunned. Those who know, etc. There was a whistle right as I got to the sideline and thus was able to get right back out there for what turned out to be seven minutes of fairly meandering rugby from two teams that saw the outcome as foregone and were looking forward to the drinkup. After the postgame handshake Tish didn't quite put me in an armlock but guided me to my car with extreme firmness, growling that she would be right behind me. Soon we were in the somewhat empty ER of the local hospital, being whisked into an examination room. If either the nurse who led us back there and checked me for a concussion or the attending who came in had an issue with her tagging along, they chose not to voice it.

The doctor, a tiny woman with blonde hair and tired-looking eyes, wrinkled her nose as she began to undo Tish's bandaging job. "Came right from the game, huh?"

"Match. And yes, sorry. I probably reek."

"Yup. Reminds me of the farm I grew up on." Nice bedside manner. "Who did the dressing?" When I jerked a thumb at Tish she gave her a small nod. "Good work. Let's see what's going on under there." As the bandages fell away she pursed her lips and tilted her head. "What did this?"

"A stud. A spike - the thing on the bottom of a boot."

"Boot?"

"Cleats. Shoes with sticky-outie things on the bottom."

She looked like she wanted to pursue that line of questioning but instead focused on my wound. "Well, it's a deep slice but I should be able to sew it up pretty quickly for you."

That sounded fine to me, but Tish cleared her throat. "Uhm, excuse me? No offense, but are you a plastic surgeon?" That earned her a death stare, but also a slow shake of the head. "I only ask because of where it is and how a heavy scar would be really prominent. If you're good with vertical mattress sutures then by all means you're who we want, but if that's not your speciality then maybe it is for someone else here?"

For a couple of long, moderately uncomfortable moments the doc did an impressive impression of a statue before giving her ponytail a shake and scratching the back of her head. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. You a doctor?"

Tish pressed a finger to her lips, partially obscuring a smile. For the first time I noticed the dark purple lipstick she had on. How had I missed that before? It looked good on her. "No, I was sports medicine in college so I saw my share of injuries like this."

"Let me get a nurse on it," she said, disappearing into the hallway. Tish watched her go before turning back to me.

"Thanks." I coughed, my throat parched.

Tish gave me a dismissive wave while looking around the room. "No problem. I don't see any water, though. You want me to get you something to drink?'

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Oh Bear, it's far too late for that." Her lopsided smirk matched the twinkle in her eye, and something twanged deep in my chest. Holy shit, I was in trouble. "I can find the cafeteria, I imagine."

"If it's easier my sports bottle has Gatorade in it. It's in my bag, in my car." I started to dig for my keys.

"Yeah, hard no on that, my friend. I smelled your bag at the field. I'd rather wander into the morgue than experience that again." As she opened the door she looked back, concern plain on her face. "You sure you're okay? No headache, no dizziness?"

"I'm fine, Doc. I appreciate your concern."

"How could I not? No way I could score a replacement for tomorrow at this point." With a wink, she was gone.

I was alone with the throbbing from my cut for a few minutes before the doctor returned with a nurse in tow. "Okay, we do have a plastic surgeon here and she's on her way down. Marci is going to prep you in the meantime. Thank your wife for looking out for you."

"Thanks. Uhm, she's not my wife."

"Girlfriend, then."

I laughed. "No. Just friends."

She raised her eyebrows. "My apologies. I guess I misread the situation." The tilt of her head, along with a small smile, told me that she didn't believe what she'd just said. "Good luck. Stop cutting your head open."

I'll spare you the details of getting the crapload of stitches - sorry, sutures - with a topical anesthetic instead of a shot. The surgeon - I think she was a resident - seemed pleased with the results and the bandage they put over it was not much larger than the cut itself. All in all I thought it had been an efficient and speedy ER visit only to discover darkness waiting for us when they cut me loose. Our cars were next to each other and Tish stood in front of mine as I opened my door.

"It's okay if you need to back out, Bear."

I shrugged, then grimaced as I caught a whiff of myself. Woof. "Nah, I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt."

"It will when the topical wears off. Make sure you put a waterproof bandage over it in the shower and take some acetaminophen. Do you have a big enough waterproof bandage?"

"Yes, mom." Smiling, I walked over and wrapped my arms around her. "A stinky thank-you hug, from me to you. Consider it a blessing."

"Gah, get off me, you smell like old cheese." Her grip around me tightened for a few moments before releasing. "Go home and take two showers, at least. You sure you don't need me to come with you?"

"I'm good, I know how to shower. Thank you again."

She stared at me long enough that I started to wonder if I was indeed concussed or just missing something obvious. Twice she opened her mouth to speak but finally just shook her head and rattled her keys, of which there had to be at least twenty on the loop. "Okay, then. I will pick you up at 9am, at which point the WILD WEDDING RUMPUS shall begin!" After one more strange look she hopped into her truck and left with a wave. I stood there bemused for a bit, deciding to leave before the staff spotted me and dragged me back in again for more tests.

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Tish and I were grappling again and had been for some time, both of our gis soaked through with sweat. I'd been on bottom in guard but managed to reverse with an elbow drag and a bump of my hips, asserting side control while shrugging off the lashing I'd taken from her braids. But even as I tried to sneak an arm under her neck she twisted beneath me and got her knee across my stomach, her blue and glittery lips curling in a ferocious smile as she damn near *flung* my body away from hers, the strength in her leg impossible to counter. As my shoulders made contact with the mat she was already on top of me, moving with cat-like grace to land in full mount position. Before I could react she pinned my wrists next to my head and let her body weight immobilize me for the moment. She was forcing the air out of me and when I opened my mouth to gasp in desperation she lunged forward, lips pressing against mine as her tongue made itself known. I...

Wait. Blue, glittery lips? On the mat?

I snapped awake with the ghostly touch of her lips still blurring the line between my dream world and reality. What wasn't a surprise was the huge bulge in my underwear and the accompanying ache that I'd gotten from it, which had been pretty standard every night since the first one about a week ago. It was a bit concerning that Tish had become such an immediate and welcome visitor to my dreams because imagining I could ever be with someone like her was some next-level quixotic shit, and I didn't want it to screw up our friendship. This had been a pretty rough year or so and I'm not sure where I'd be if not for her getting me involved in things beyond rugby and martial arts.