It had been four years, eight months, and sixteen days since Frannie had had sex. And the last time hadn't even been very good.

How depressing was that?

She stared moodily at herself in the mirror for a minute, then wiped the lipstick off, and went for a different shade. Today wasn't a pink lipstick day. She wasn't feeling it. Today was a red lipstick day. Not bright slutty red, but this deep sort of dark rosy-red that made her feel confident and sexy when she looked at herself. She pursed her lips after she put it on, and turned her head to the side a little, arching her eyebrows. Yeah. That worked. She looked - sultry. Sexy. Hot.

She smoothed her hair down once more, and straightened the skirt that Welsh wouldn't let her wear to work anymore ("…because it's too damn short, Ms. Vecchio. We're not running a disco here."). But Welsh was at court today and Frannie knew as much as anyone else there, if not more, about running the precinct, so she figured she was in charge today. The skirt was fine. She wasn't going to be doing any bending anyway. And besides, she was wearing a totally presentable shirt with it, so it all evened out.

Glancing once more in the mirror, she gave her neckline an upward tug. Totally presentable. One more blast of perfume and she was clicking out the door on her heels. Something good was gonna happen today. She could feel it.

*~*~*~*~*

When she slipped back into her room with her shoes dangling from one hand, easing the door closed behind her and muttering a prayer than her mother had not heard her come in at nearly midnight (on a work night, no less), it had been 47 minutes since she had had sex. Her panties were in her coat pocket and the lipstick on her mouth was long gone. She slipped out of the remainder of her clothes, moving quietly in the dark, then pulled on her pink fluffy bathrobe.

She padded over to her dresser. Her earrings were missing, too - she was pretty sure they'd ended up in her purse, but she was too tired to go looking now. Instead, she stood there, looking at herself in the mirror, trying to see if it being - she glanced over at the clock - only 54 minutes since she'd had sex showed in her face.

She tilted her head to the side, and decided it did, a little. In her eyes. She shivered a little, happily. She'd never thought - it was ridiculous, really, because god, she'd never even really liked Kowalski, it was more that she had to just put up with him - but it had been good. It had been really good.

She felt that glow deep in her stomach, and she turned, heading to bed, letting the robe fall to the floor before sliding in, the sheets cool against her skin. She curled up there, and it was late, so late, she was going to be exhausted in the morning, but she just blinked sleepily up at the dimness of the ceiling.

Ray Kowalski. She hadn't known it was going to happen. She still didn't know quite how it had happened.

They'd been sniping at each other all day, because he was annoying her, making fun of her skirt and how short it was and how it was a police precinct not a pool hall. She'd retaliated by losing every file he asked for. "Oops," she'd said, smiling up at him real nice, and crossing her legs, making a show of smoothing her skirt down over her thighs.

He'd stormed away. She chalked that one up as a win.

He'd left the coffee pot in the break room empty. She kept sending his phone calls to Dewey.

He asked her if she'd needed special lessons to walk in those heels. She very carefully stacked his unfinished reports on Welsh's desk.

It was pretty much business as usual.

Only not. Because usually Fraser was around, keeping Frannie distracted and keeping Ray polite. Well. More polite than he generally was. But Fraser wasn't around - hadn't been around for a few weeks, actually - and Ray had no reason to be polite.

And the thing was, Frannie thought vaguely as Ray pulled her across the wide bench-seat of the GTO and onto his lap, maybe she liked it better when he wasn't polite.

To Fraser, being impolite probably meant, like, not taking his hat off indoors. To Ray, it meant running his hands up her thighs and under her skirt while he kissed her. God, he was good at that. They'd left the station at the same time, bickering over something she couldn't even remember anymore. She'd followed him to his car, she remembered that. She'd been saying, "And another thing…" She remembered that.

She was right up in his face, hands on her hips, glaring up at him. His eyes flashed, and he said, "Give it a break, Frannie," but his voice was hoarse and he was looking at her mouth when he said it, and then - he had his hands on her hips, and his mouth against hers.

It was crazy at the time, but now, in his lap, she wasn't complaining.

Actually, she was moaning into his mouth and her hand was on the front of his jeans, where he was pressed up hard against the denim. When he tore his mouth away from hers, his eyes looked black in the dimness of the car. "Frannie," he said, sounding both bewildered and turned-on, a combination she'd never heard before and found she liked, "I - "

"Backseat?" she said, before he could go any further, and he blinked, and nodded, and slid after her as she scrambled over the seat.

It was crazy-insane, yeah, but the car was parked in the dim shadows in the back of the precinct lot, and it really had been a very long time since she'd gotten laid.

Kowalski had fantastic hands and knew what he was doing with them. They didn't waste any time back there, but he made her come - twice - while he was fucking her, which was pretty damn amazing in her book. He kissed her afterwards, tangled together in the backseat, and he kissed her again when he dropped her off at home.

She still had the taste of him on her lips. She smiled to herself, and snuggled more fully under the covers, glancing at the clock before closing her eyes. An hour and twelve minutes. Not too bad.

---

Frannie didn't understand the computer system. She could fake it, mostly, and get it to do what she wanted, but she didn't know what she was doing. It was half luck and half the vague memories of what she had learned, but everything took about twice as long as it should have, as she clicked around, trying to remember the way she'd made it work last time. She swore it never worked the same way twice.

Elaine, even though she'd been away for a year, remembered how it worked. She came in all in her blues, still looking so pretty (even with the hat; Frannie stared at her enviously) and smart and together, and Frannie half-watched her as she visited with Fraser (who was back, like he'd never been gone, and Ray was both a whole lot less grumpy, and also pretending like the night in the backseat of his car had never happened. Which suited her just fine. It wasn't like it'd been a date or anything.) Frannie would have loved to head over and check things out and make sure Fraser wasn't too taken with the tough-girl cop Elaine had turned out to be, but she was too busy trying to get the damn report to print. Welsh had already yelled twice from his office for it, and actually heaved himself to his feet and came all the way out to her the last time, asking in that sort of really scary quiet voice he had if Frannie thought she might possibly be able to overcome the never-ending struggle between man and machine sometime that afternoon, maybe.

Frannie pressed her lips together as she looked up at him. "Yes, sir," she said, her voice only shaking a little. He sighed, and turned to walk heavily back to his office.

She knew how to do this, dammit, and she was not going to cry, that was just stupid. She stared at the screen, chewing on her lip, her fingers hovering over the keys as she tried to decide which combination to try next. "Control alt?" she said quietly to herself.

She jumped, startled, as a warm hand landed on her shoulder. "Control P," Elaine said softly, right near her ear, and a shiver went all the way down Frannie's spine.

Elaine leaned over her, pressing the keys for her, and across the room, the printer hummed happily to life.

Frannie blew out her breath, and tilted her head to look up sideways at Elaine. "Thanks," she said. Elaine never made her feel dumb when she fixed things. Never had. "Can I keep you on retainer or something?"

Elaine grinned at her, and straightened up, tucking a loose piece of hair back behind her ear. "Sure, but I'm pricey." She sat on the corner of Frannie's desk, twirling her hat in her hands and watching as Frannie got up and gathered the papers from the printer. Frannie, aware of Elaine's eye on her, swung coolly into Welsh's office, and presented him with the papers with a flourish.

"Will wonders never cease," he said dryly, looking up at her over the top of his glasses as he took them.

"Apparently not." She let her hips sway as she strode out of his office.

Elaine was watching her from under her lashes, her eyes bright with amusement.

"Thanks," said Frannie again. She waved her hand at the computer. "This thing hates me."

"It hates a lot of people," Elaine agreed. "Other than that, how are things going?"

"Well, you know." Frannie scooped up the pile of files that had been sitting on the corner of her desk waiting to go back to the file room. High on her success with the printer, she figured maybe Elaine's presence would make the whole filing thing go easier. "Do you, uh, have to get going, or -?"

Elaine slid off the desk, and tossed her hat on Frannie's in-box. "I've got some time." She took half the files from Frannie and strode along beside her to the file room. Her black, thick-soled shoes made a firm, solid sound as they walked, really different from the clickety-click of Frannie's new hot pink heels.

"So," Elaine said, glancing down at the first file and heading right to the fourth cabinet down on the left-hand side, without even looking at the label on front of the drawer (which half the time wasn't right anyway). Frannie looked on, frankly envious, as Elaine bent, slid open the third drawer down, and slipped the file in where it clearly belonged, without having to struggle to shove it in at all. "You've settled in? Do you like it okay?"

"Yeah." Frannie shrugged. "It's pretty good. I like all the stuff that goes on, you know?" She peered down at the top file, and then walked forward uncertainly. Ts were down and to the - right?

Right! First try! She knelt down, pleased, and started wrestling the bottom drawer open. "It's interesting, and you know, I keep thinking that I might - you know - " She clutched a the files on her lap, feeling her cheeks get hot as she looked up towards where Elaine was making short work of her pile, filing them quickly and efficiently, all - sort of stately and elegant in her uniform. Frannie bit her lip. "Maybe I might - someday - I don't know, join the force?" she confessed uncertainly.

Elaine looked down at her, surprised, and shut the drawer in front of her, turning to lean one slim hip against the cabinet. "Yeah? I didn't know you were interested in - that." She didn't sound like she was making fun, but Frannie's cheeks got hotter still.

"Yeah, well," she said, tugging harder at the drawer, which was still only half-open. "It's probably a dumb idea."

"No, Frannie! I think it's a great idea! It's something new! Different! It's good to have goals."

"You think?" Frannie looked up, blowing the hair out of her eyes, where it had fallen in her struggle with the drawer.

"Yeah," said Elaine. "You'd be great. Here -" She got down on the floor next to Frannie. "Let me help you." The two of them struggled, and the drawer fought them inch by inch before giving way - suddenly and forcefully - sending both of them sprawling backwards.

Frannie, the breath knocked out of her for a second, turned to look at Elaine, who was staring wide-eyed back at her, and then the both of them broke into helpless laughter, giggling madly on their asses on the floor. "Christ," said Frannie, carefully wiping the tears of laughter away, "the academy can't be any worse than this, right?''

Elaine snickered loudly, setting Frannie off again. She clutched at Elaine's shoulder, trying to stop laughing, catch her breath, and when she looked up, Elaine was right there, breathing hot laughter into her face. Frannie tilted her head, grinning, and leaned in, kissing Elaine right on the lips.

It was impulsive, and it felt right for about a second and a half, till she realized what she was doing and pulled back with a start. "Oh," she said, staring at Elaine, whose eyes were wide. "I'm - I didn't - "

Elaine had her fingers pressed against her own lips, like she was trying to feel what, exactly, Frannie had just done.

"I'm sorry, I don't know - that was just - " Frannie looked down at the files that had slid everywhere on the floor. She laughed, too sharply, and it sounded loud in the quiet of the file room. "God, look at the mess, I -" She started sweeping the files together. Her hands were shaking, which was weird, and she kept her eyes down, trying to find the rest of the Mahoney file. There it was, half mixed up with Miller, and -

"Hey."

Frannie looked up as Elaine leaned forward and kissed her. And god, her lips were so soft, softer than anything Frannie had ever felt. Frannie's heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, and this was maybe the craziest thing she had done ever, ever, but she opened her mouth, and slipped her tongue into Elaine's mouth.

Elaine moaned softly, and the files slid out of Frannie's lap once more.

*~*~*~*~*

They left together at the end of Frannie's shift. They walked closely, bumping shoulders and brushing hands, and no one even looked at them twice.

Girls, Frannie thought, could get away with everything.

Elaine offered her a ride home, and Frannie accepted, sliding into the passenger seat and smoothing down her skirt nervously. Was this going to turn into another backseat encounter? Frannie craned her neck to peer into the backseat. Elaine drove a compact. Frannie wasn't sure they'd even be able to do anything back there.

She turned back as Elaine got in the car. "Hi," she said, smiling at Frannie.

"Hi," Frannie said back, feeling suddenly shy.

"So," Elaine said, starting the car. "Do you maybe want to go for coffee before I take you home?"

Frannie's heart sank. Sitting awkwardly in some coffee shop wasn’t even close to the top of the list of the things she wanted to do with Elaine.

Elaine looked at her. "At my place, I mea-"

"Yes," Frannie said before she could even finish the sentence.

Elaine laughed, not meanly, and leaned over and kissed her, right there in front of God and everybody.

*~*~*~*~*

Frannie didn't quite know what to expect, but she had good instincts. When Elaine slid closer to her on the couch, Frannie kissed her. When Elaine's hands started moving restlessly over her thighs, Frannie climbed into her lap, straddling here there on the couch, her skirt up around her hips. And when Elaine suggested, breathlessly, that they move this to the bedroom, Frannie agreed without hesitation.

It hadn't been all that different up till that point, though Elaine's lips were softer than any guy's, and she was just a little more - tender, Frannie guessed it was, as she ran her hands over Frannie's body. Everything about this whole thing was just a little softer, and it was turning Frannie on.

In the bedroom, Elaine tugged her down on the bed before she even had a chance to get nervous, really. Elaine's fingers were sliding up her thighs even as her other hand slid slowly up and under Frannie's blouse. Her nipples had never been that sensitive before, but maybe Elaine knew things that guys didn't, because god, just her fingertips on them sent a zing through Frannie. When Elaine skillfully unbuttoned her blouse, and pushed the cup of her bra down to tongue at one nipple, Frannie felt it all through her whole body, and she was moaning loud enough to wake the dead.

Elaine looked up at her, her eyes dark and lidded. "This is okay?"

Frannie watched, trembling a little, as Elaine's tongue traced a circle around her nipple. "This is - yes, god, really very, very completely okay." She had a moment of worry - she'd heard that lesbians liked to move in after, like, the first date. Was she going to have to - Elaine sucked her nipple, sending a sudden shot of heat through her body, and Frannie decided she'd worry about the whole lesbian/moving thing later.

Elaine smiled slowly up at her, and moved down her body. Frannie said, "Oh god," and lay back, screwing her eyes shut tight as she felt Elaine's hot breath on her belly. Then Elaine was gently pushing her skirt up and tugging her panties down, and Frannie lifted her hips obligingly even as she felt wave after wave of - god, it should probably be embarrassment, but all she felt was this red-hot need course through her.

Elaine's tongue touched her, tracing against her thigh, hot and wet and god, god, this was really happening, wasn't it? Elaine moved slowly - agonizingly slowly - mouthing at her thighs, her belly, the down low between her legs. Frannie gasped, and - god, she had to see this. She propped herself up on her arms to look down at Elaine's dark head buried between her legs. Frannie's skirt was rucked up, and Elaine slid her hands under Frannie's ass - god, that felt amazing - and - oh God. Frannie's arms slid out from under her and she fell back to the bed as Elaine's tongue circled right around Frannie's clit. "Jesus, oh Jesus," Frannie was chanting up at the ceiling, because God, that was perfect, that was just perfect. That was - god, guys either poked around down there like they were spelunking, or else were so pleased to be able to even find the clit that they went after it like a sledgehammer. This - Elaine lightly moving her tongue around it, teasing it, and working Frannie up like crazy - this was better than, god, anything.

"Yeah," Frannie moaned up at the ceiling. Elaine's hair was brushing against the insides of her thighs, Elaine's tongue was hot and sure against her, and oh holy Mary mother of God she was close, she was so close, she was so, so - "Oh yes, yes, God, please, I -" Elaine's tongue caught the rhythm of Frannie's rocking hips, kept it, and Frannie moaned helplessly and came, trembling, against Elaine's tongue.

She just lay there, breathing shakily and trying to pull together enough air to say thank you, because that was pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to her. She managed to blink her eyes open and looked down to where Elaine - still fully dressed, though her top was unbuttoned, showing Frannie a glimpse of the black satin bra beneath - lay between her legs, kissing her stomach.

"God, Elaine."

Elaine lifted her head, looking pleased.

"I just -" She watched as Elaine slid back slowly, getting to her knees. Frannie took a deep breath, and another, and then sat up, tugging her skirt down a little. "Come here." She pushed Elaine down onto her back on the bed, and thumbed open the top button on her uniform pants. "I want to try that."

---

Turnbull was weird, and Canadian, and not Fraser. He made Frannie a little nervous, frankly. Not in the same way Fraser did, where her heart skipped a beat when she saw him across the room, and she ran off at the mouth when she talked to him because she couldn't seem to think in a straight line with him standing so close.

No, Turnbull was just - weird. He'd stare at her with this intensity, that made her feel like she maybe had something on her face, or stuck between her teeth. It made her want to go to the bathroom to check, and also to hide from him for a little while. Sometimes he'd be waiting for her outside, though, and acted like hovering around outside the ladies room was something he did every day.

It was weird, was all. She was glad he didn't come to the station very often.

They'd never had a follow-up to that peculiar lunch, and Frannie was never sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

She figured she'd seen the last of him once Fraser took off for Canada with Ray. But Turnbull kept finding reasons to show up at the station. Once he said he'd been sent to make sure that no other misplaced members of the RCMP had shown up. And the next time he said he'd been ordered to count the number of steps it took to get from the Consulate to the precinct.

Frannie'd met his former boss, and even though the Ice Queen had disappeared to parts unknown, she figured that most Canadians were odd enough to give Turnbull random tasks like that.

Turnbull, though, she thought, was a whole special weirdness in and of himself. She eyed him warily as he stood before her, grinning at her and clutching his hat in his hands. She shut her eyes for a second, trying to remember what he'd said he was here for this time. "Oh, right," she said, leaning back and looking up at him. "Pens."

His eyes dropped to her bared midriff, then he wrenched his gaze back up, blushing furiously. She grinned at him, and let her seat swivel a little bit. It looked like his face was going to burst into flames any second now, and he was going to pull a muscle or something trying not to look at her belly.

She wished now she'd gotten that belly-button piercing she'd wanted. He'd probably explode right here.

She let him dangle for a second, then cut the guy some slack. "Did you find them?" she asked.

"Find -? I don’t - you mean - I -" He was staring at the ceiling now, and he looked like he might pass out.

"Hey." She got up, and patted him on the arm. "Come on, I'll show you where we keep the pens."

"Thank you," he breathed, finally looking at her and abruptly putting his own hand over hers on his arm. "I just - Ms. Vecchio, thank you."

"Uh." She tugged hard, managed to extract her hand. "Sure. It's, uh, just the supply closet. It's not exactly a hike."

She led him over, and opened the door. He stood there in the hall, blinking down at her, the color slowly fading from his cheeks. She waited a second, then leaned past him, yanking on the string that turned the light on. She stood back to let him pass.

He stood there, gazing at her, smiling that intense smile.

She sighed, and took his arm, and drew him into the closet.

"Oh, Ms. Vecchio…" he said.

"Uhm, there are the pens." She shifted uneasily. "Did you want to check and see?" She pulled a box off the shelf and held it out to him.

"Check and see?" he said distractedly, looking down at her. Man, he was tall. Taller even than Fraser.

"To see if they are the same as you guys use in Canada?" she said, rolling her hands. Come on, buddy. They'd had this conversation not ten minutes ago.

"Oh," he said softly, "I think they are fine." He was still looking at her, not the pens.

She looked down doubtfully at the box of Bics in her hand. How different could pens be in Canada? Did they only write in red or something?

"Okay, well." She held out the box to him. "Do you want - "

"Oh, yes, may I?" he said, his eyes lighting up.

"Uh, sure," she said. Next thing she knew, he had his arms around her, and had her pulled up against him, and was - holy crap, kissing her. She started to push him away, but he was so intent, and his arms were cradling her carefully, like he thought she would maybe break or something, and - oh, what the fuck. She kissed him back.

And it was a good kiss. It was a really good kiss. It was the kind of kiss she felt in her knees. When he pulled back, all flushed, and said, "Ms. Vecchio, is this -"

"Oh yeah," she interrupted, looping her arm around his neck. "Get over here." She shoved the door to the closet shut with one high-heeled foot.

Turnbull murmured, "Oh, you're so daring," against her lips and kissed her again.

Jesus. He wasn't so careful this time - he had his arms around her tight, holding on to her, and when she moaned against his mouth, he tilted his head to a better angle and slid his tongue into her mouth.

So much for the shy Mountie.

She moaned again and pressed desperately closer. He held her tight, pulling her up on her toes, pressed up all against his broad chest, her hands clutching at the rough fabric of his uniform.

Finally, finally, she pulled back - she had to breathe - and he released her slowly, dropping soft kisses on her lips as he did so, like he couldn't stop, couldn't help himself.

"Man," she breathed, looking up at him in the dim supply closet. She was still holding onto his - strong, muscular - arms, feeling a little dizzy. "I didn’t know you really meant-"

"I've been trying to tell you," he said, and his voice was full of soft delight.

"I thought you were just - really confused," she admitted.

"No," he said, his voice so deep and sure that it sent shivers up her spine. Then he bit his lip. "Well, not about this."

"Well, that's okay then," she said, and went up on her toes for another kiss.

~end~

---

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