Push, Pull (The Closer: Sharon/Brenda)
Title: Push, Pull
Rating: T
Words: ~1800
Disclaimer: Characters property of their creators.
Note: I threatened a Sharon/Brenda fic. I've already been trumped by canon, but what the hell. (For fangirls who only watch Mary's eps, last week Fritz found out Brenda was being vetted for the Chief job, and he was encouraging.)

"...and now Will won't talk to me at all. He's acting like I stole his puppy or something, and let's face it, everyone knows I'm not going to get the job over him, he's a shoe-in, but he's still avoiding me and using Taylor as an intermediary to get messages to me...Taylor! You know he loves that, makes him feel important, and he'll hold it over my head for months, I'm sure... I'm sorry, I've forgotten why you're here."

Sharon Raydor shifted her weight and crossed her arms. "I came to remind you about the deadline for submitting your application for Chief, and I need your final report on the Wilson shooting. I can come back later if this is a bad time-"

"No, no, I have the report right here." Brenda Johnson lifted her trashcan and pushed a large pile of candy wrappers into it. She began shuffling the mess of papers on her desk, searching for the file.

She wanted to stop ranting but just couldn't seem to. Sharon Raydor had a way of smirking that made Brenda want to wipe the expression right off her face. Since assaulting an officer would only mean spending even more time with Internal Affairs, she just ended up getting increasingly agitated in the other woman's presence. She felt totally out of control right now, the Captain's presence also reminding her of recent, painful discussions.

"And Fritz-you would not believe his attitude about it," Brenda continued, becoming more and more animated. "He already thinks I work too much and don't spend enough time with him, but I love my job and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Besides, he works late a lot too, and really, if anyone should be upset, it's Joel, because we barely see him..."

"Is Joel your son?" Sharon took a step closer, craning her neck to see if she could spot the folder herself.

"No, our cat." Brenda elbowed a stack of files off the corner of the desk. "Dammit!"

In what Brenda considered to be an uncharacteristic display of politeness, Sharon knelt to help her pick up the mess.

"I just wish someone could be encouraging for once." Brenda's voice broke. She covered her mouth with one hand, but not before a hitching sob escaped her. She plucked a file from the floor, stood, and held it out to Sharon. Brenda struggled to hold back tears.

Before either realized what was happening, Sharon pulled the other woman's hand from her face and pressed her mouth to Brenda's.

"Reese's cups," Sharon observed, took the proffered file, and left.

Brenda pounded on the door in front of her. She was impatient and fuming. She knew it was late, close to midnight, and that her coming here this way might be grounds for a harassment charge. No matter-she intended to strike first.

Sharon answered almost immediately. She was still in the gray skirt she'd worn to work, but her suit jacket was gone, her white shirt untucked, and she was barefoot. She looked rumpled, like she'd been slouched in a chair or curled up on a couch.

"I could have you fired," Brenda declared without preamble.

Sharon adjusted her glasses. "For what?" she replied neutrally.

"For kissing me."

"Yes, you could."

Brenda waited, unsure why Sharon wasn't apologizing or arguing back. "Well, what do you think about that?"

"Is that what you're planning to do?" Sharon remained cool. Her even eye contact flustered Brenda all the more.

"I don't know yet. I just came over here to tell you I'm considering it."

"That's not why you came here," Sharon tilted her head. A tiny smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not. It's the middle of the night. You could have waited until morning, or until Monday, to tell me. You could have called instead of looking up my address, driving all the way over here, and flashing your badge to get past the security desk downstairs. Or you could have just filed a grievance and not said anything to me at all once you'd made your decision."

Brenda lowered her eyes and paced a short track in the hallway in front of Sharon's door. She held her head in her hands, thinking hard.

Finally she stopped directly in front of Sharon. "You're right," she agreed, before grasping Sharon's shoulders and kissing her quickly.

"Red wine," Brenda noted, and pushed past Sharon to enter her apartment.

Brenda threw her bag and coat into one of Sharon's living room chairs. She spotted a half-full glass of cabernet on the coffee table, next to a paperback book. Brenda picked up the glass and drained it.

"Do you have more of this?" she asked, waving the glass in the air.

"In the kitchen." Sharon remained a fortress of calm as she led Brenda down a short hall that opened into an expansive kitchen and dining area. The uncorked bottle sat on the counter. Brenda refilled the glass and the two women stood in the dim room as Brenda took another deep draught of the wine.

Sharon crossed her arms and waited.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Brenda asked.

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?"

"I really don't know. It was just an impulse."

"Are you in the habit of kissing coworkers out of nowhere? Female coworkers?"

"Are you?"

Brenda raised her glass. "Touché." She took another sip of wine and thought for a moment. "I guess I can't report you now."

"Ha." Sharon smirked. She retrieved another wineglass from the cabinet above them.

"Allow me," Brenda offered, picking up the bottle to pour. The two women clinked their glasses together and stood in tense silence, sipping slowly.

"Do you really think I'd make a good Chief?" Brenda asked.

"I do." Sharon appeared to relax. She leaned back against the counter.

"Why?"

Sharon spoke earnestly. "You're strong and you have great conviction. No one is more committed to or better at your job than you are. You don't let anyone push you around."

"Well, thank you."

"I don't have anything to lose by encouraging you though," Sharon continued. "Pope has his own pride and ambition and your husband has time with you, as you said. Those are real losses."

Brenda scowled into her glass. "Pope's been playing me since the day I met him. And Fritz..." She took a deep breath. "We've never seen eye to eye. I think it might have been a mistake, he and I. They're the only people in my life though. I don't know who I'd..." She trailed off.

"Does your husband know where you are now?" Sharon asked.

"Oh, we had a fight," Brenda shrugged, exasperated. "I told him I was going to a hotel."

Sharon nodded. She offered the bottle to Brenda and, when Brenda nodded, Sharon emptied it into her glass.

The women passed a long silence again. Brenda seemed lost in thought. She finished her wine and set the empty glass on the counter. When she turned, she let eyes trail up Sharon's body.

"You have very pretty hair," she said matter-of-factly.

"Thank you."

Brenda studied the tousled waves falling over Sharon's shoulders. She lifted a tendril and wound it around her fingers. "It's soft, too."

Sharon trained her eyes on Brenda's face. "Why are you here?" she murmured.

Brenda ignored the question and continued to wind Sharon's hair in her hand. "You're the only one who suggested I apply for Chief. Why didn't anyone else? Fritz? Pope? My team?" She raised her eyes to Sharon's, searching for answers.

Sharon shook her head. "I don't know."

"You don't even like me."

Brenda's gaze dropped to Sharon's mouth. With aching tentativeness, Brenda leaned in. She touched her lips to Sharon's, and this time, neither pulled away.

Brenda felt the softness of Sharon's mouth against her own. When Sharon parted her lips, Brenda followed, whimpering when the tips of their tongues met.

Brenda pulled back abruptly, her breathing labored. She couldn't meet Sharon's eyes. "Do you... do you have someone?" She scanned the room for evidence of a partner.

"I did," Sharon said. "He left a few years ago."

Brenda turned to face the counter. She toyed with her empty wineglass. "Did he leave because of your job?"

"That was the biggest part of it, yes."

Brenda exhaled a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair. "How are you so calm right now?"

Sharon hummed. "I think I just keep waiting to see what you do next."

"I should go." Brenda pulled her cardigan tight around her and turned toward the hallway. "Thank you for the wine," she called over her shoulder.

Sharon caught her just before the front door. "Wait."

Brenda paused as she gathered her bag and coat.

"You can't drive-you've had too much to drink. It's very late anyway; why don't you just stay here? I only have the couch to spare but it's pretty comfortable." Sharon gestured toward the living room.

Brenda knew Sharon was right. She'd had nearly three glasses of wine, quickly, and she was exhausted.

Sharon loaned her pajamas and showed her to the bathroom, where she invited Brenda to use anything she needed. While Brenda washed up, Sharon retrieved spare blankets and pillows and made up the couch for her.

As Brenda lay in the darkness of Sharon's living room, tears finally overtook her. She felt so alone without Will's friendship and her husband's support, and bewildered by what she was doing here in Sharon Raydor's home. She'd kissedthe woman, a clear indication she was losing her mind. And now Sharon was being kind to her, which she didn't deserve at all given the way she'd shown up here.

Brenda turned to face the back of the couch and tried to muffle her anguished sobs against the cushions.

She'd nearly cried herself out when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, come with me," she heard Sharon whisper behind her.

Sharon pressed a cool washcloth into Brenda's hand and Brenda used it to dab at her face as she allowed Sharon to lead her down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Sharon pulled her bedcovers down further and motioned for Brenda to get in and scoot to the far side, against the wall. Sharon then tucked herself into her side of the bed.

Sharon ignored Brenda once they were settled in, but she lay close enough for Brenda to feel soothed by her warmth, the sleight weight of her on the mattress, and her even breathing. Feeling the safest she'd felt all day, perhaps the safest she'd felt in quite some time, Brenda Johnson allowed herself to drift off to sleep.