AN: These two chapters were originally published as two separate works, part of a series entitled Compromised Professionalism on AO3. So, they read more like two parts of a series than two chapters of one fic. There's a chance there will be a third chapter, but for all intents and purposes, this is complete. Additionally, the real name for this chapter is Information Flow in the Modern-Day Workplace, but it was too long.


"Are you a lesbian?"

"What?" Frankie says, looking up from her binder. It's just her and Britta left at the study room table, and she can't have heard that right.

"I said, are you a lesbian?"

Frankie sighs. "Is this for the betting pool? I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I don't want my sexuality to become part of my work life."

"But, we're friends, right? Friends tell each other things. And, besides, we had to end the pool once Annie and Abed left." Britta grins and gets up from her spot and sits down next to Frankie, in what she's been told is Troy's old seat.

"It's good to know how much you all respect me." Indignant passive-aggression is good, but she can't stall forever. Especially since no one is better at righteous anger than Britta Perry.

"We wouldn't have to do this kind of stuff if you'd just tell us about your life. You know so much about me. You've met my parents!"

Britta may have a point. Frankie has made an effort to stay above the fray, to maintain a professional attitude, but she's come to the conclusion that that's not going to fly at Greendale. The group has told her all sorts of stories about the dean, and if he can dress up in a ladies' Uncle Sam costume and openly (and somewhat creepily) lust after Jeff for six years, she can tell her friends her sexuality.

"There was this time a couple years ago," Britta says, because Frankie still hasn't answered. "When I was friends with this girl, Paige, and I thought she was a lesbian, but she thought I was a lesbian, and it got weird. Because, we both weren't." Britta's talking fast, like the words are running away from her. "We kissed. At the Valentine's day dance."

It's frustrating, when straight girls do this. They find out Frankie's gay, and they think she needs to hear the story of that one time they kissed a girl. What exactly do they want her to do with this information?

"At the time," Britta continues, and Frankie prepares herself for a sort of roundabout No Homo, "I was weirded out. Looking back, though, it was kinda good."

"Britta," Frankie says, hesitantly.

Britta inhales audibly. "I, Britta Perry, am bisexual."

This is not exactly the direction in which Frankie saw this conversation going, but maybe she's glad it did.

"As your friend," Frankie says, "it's good to know." She offers a small smile, and Britta returns it, plus twenty watts.

"So, no pressure, but..."

"Yes." She doesn't bother clarifying. Britta knows.

"Okay, cool," Britta says, nodding and being surprisingly nonchalant.

"It would be completely improfessional for us to date." As if anything at this school is professional.

"Of course!" Britta winks, and her smile sort of shifts to one side of her face. It has the effect of being conspiratorial and adorable in equal parts. "Wouldn't dream of it."