| My very first Grace and Frankie fanfiction - I just couldn't get over that scene. Set during S3xE4. Please enjoy, and always feel free to leave (constructive) feedback. |

Do You Want Me to Do Stuff to You?

For dragging minutes now, Grace had been desperately attempting to get rid of Frankie. All the former beauty industry manager wanted at this point was to be on her own, enjoy some silence and sleep. After all, it was late in the evening, and a seventy-three-year-old woman needed her beauty sleep. However, something told Grace that the alone time she so thoroughly craved had to wait; that something or preferably someone was Frankie, cheerfully performing her best persuasion act, right next to Grace, in Grace's bed.

Cause of the bedtime trouble was still the very recent robbery in the beach house - something that Frankie evidently had trouble overcoming. Sol was not there to soothe his ex-wife the way that she needed to be, and Grace, as a matter of fact, was simply and plainly tired of having to put up with Frankie's unreasonable, yes, almost childish behaviour.

What Grace also knew, and that was the problem, was just how extremely stubborn and persistent Frankie could be. Well - always was. Not that Grace was less persistent when it came to things she desired, but she most certainly acted more maturely about those things than Frankie did.

Most of all, Grace wanted to be alone. For sure, one could argue various more or less accurate reasons for her desire to simply be on her own - for once, considering she was stuck with Frankie all day, every day - but the answer was as simple as it seemed; out of all the people on the planet, Frankie was the polar opposite of Grace, so it was hardly a wonder that she needed time to breathe. Time to calm herself, collect her feelings, every now and again call her cousin, overthink the business, overthink those strangely comfortable thoughts she's been having about Frankie -

"Do you want me to do stuff to you?"

Frankie's voice ripped Grace away from her thought process, and her eyes rolled like a freshly oiled pair of cogwheels stirred by this silly question - it seemed that brief motion enabled a larger amount of cogwheels and another series of thoughts to spin inside Grace's brain.

Of course, Grace was aware that Frankie was most probably the most open-minded person on the planet, so was there really anything to question about her frequent, rather ambiguous offers? There wasn't - Frankie would have asked this no matter who lay next to her, trying to calmly and gently remove her from the bed. At least that was what Grace wanted to believe. What she did believe - or rather - what tried sneaking into her thoughts through a tiny backdoor in her brain was a whole other story.

Do you want me to do stuff to you?

The question rang in Grace's mind for a brief moment longer than it should have, and it took that one freshly oiled eye roll to find an answer.

"Oh, stop asking me that."

For another second there, Grace did not pay attention. Until she heard Frankie's rather cheeky response.

"I don't hear a no."

It was, in fact, a cheeky response, yet it was the truest of responses there could be - Grace had not once said no to Frankie. Not now, not the two times before that she had been asked something comparable.

The realisation that Frankie was right had stirred whatever inexplicable emotion inside Grace's entity, the tiny backdoor in her brain was growing bigger with each second, allowing that sneaky bunch of thoughts further into her mind, further to the front.

As much as Grace wanted to get rid of Frankie at this very moment, there was something roaring deep inside her, something telling her not to let her go. Not that it would be possible to remove Frankie from under the sheets until the next morning in the first place, but it seemed that Grace wasn't even sure that she wanted Frankie gone anymore. If ever she had wanted that at all -

"Oh, fucking hell, Frankie!"

Grace interrupted herself with her expression of disbelief. What followed then was a combination of comments from either of the women, about Boniva and the fear of death, up until Grace eventually gave in - both because Frankie would never leave the bedroom without physical enforcement and because Grace was, as hard as it was to admit to herself, comfortable with her friend and business partner snoring next to her. Maybe a bit too much.

Shifting slightly in her rather still position, lying on her side, back facing towards Frankie, Grace could hardly keep her eyes closed. Despite how tired she tried to feel, despite how heavy her eyelids wanted to be, Grace was wide awake - her thoughts not once allowing her to relax her mind, nor her muscles. The worst part about this was the remaining absence of Frankie's snoring.

Keeping still that whole time, as if Grace made an actual effort not to stir up Frankie or disturb her snore-less slumber, the creator of Say Grace also felt herself holding her breath every now and then, more unintentional than on purpose.

Do you want me to do stuff to you?

For some reason, Frankie's question kept popping up in Grace's brain so frequently that it became uncomfortable; it bugged her. Why now? Why had her thoughts not been this occupied by an ambiguous question such as that one the last two times? There was a chance that it was because both times before, Frankie had not been begging to sleep with Grace in one bed. Perhaps, the previous two times Grace was not having those strangely comfortable thoughts about Frankie -

All of a sudden, Grace's heart skipped a beat.

Feeling an arm (and it wasn't her own) snake around her waist in such a gentle, careful manner, Grace couldn't help but hold her breath again, this time however, inhaling audibly beforehand. With her blue eyes wide open, Grace was staring into the darkness, the silhouettes of furniture barely visible, but not that she cared. All she cared about at this very moment was this odd feeling roaring loudly inside her body - inside her chest, her stomach, her mind.

At least Grace was one step closer to knowing whether Frankie was sound asleep or just as awake as she herself was. Grace was pretty much convinced that the latter was the case.

Eventually, she could not hold her breath any longer. Grace exhaled calmly and she sensed Frankie's arm pressing against her expanding stomach a little tighter. That was not all, once Grace was breathing more or less normally again, she felt what hopefully was the rest of Frankie shuffling closer to her - one could call it snuggling into her.

"... Grace?"

Once being addressed by a low, soothing whisper, Grace bit down onto her bottom lip. Was she nervous? Her excessively accelerated heart rate would certainly be a piece of evidence speaking for nervousness.

Frankie would move away again if Grace kept pretending that she was asleep, wouldn't she?

Why was Grace this nervous all of a sudden? Not that it actually was sudden, Grace had been lying to herself and denying how nervous she felt when Frankie was close to her for weeks; how scared she was of losing her best friend - yet, she never brought herself to openly admit and commit to her feelings. Denial didn't work much longer now, though - Grace realised that something was going on; had been going on for a long time. She was feeling it very thoroughly at this moment, with Frankie's arm wrapped around her midsection and the warmth of her body so close to her own.

I need you.

There it was again - Frankie had said this earlier. It had sounded light-hearted, cheerful, but only now the meaning of those three tiny words came through to Grace's senses. Frankie needed her. Frankie had done all in her powers to be allowed to stay in Grace's bed, or rather to stay with Grace. To be fair, Grace was pleased that she had not succeeded - was there even a single doubt left that she never actually wanted Frankie to leave? She only ever felt truly happy when her business partner was around, and she felt horrible when Frankie was upset. She needed Frankie just as much as Frankie needed her.

Grace closed her eyes. They were swelling with salty tears.

"Grace? I know you're not asleep."

Frankie's voice startled Grace, which was why she shifted briefly in her position, her muscles tensing for a split second.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep."

Was Grace's explanation plausible and believable enough for Frankie or was she going to press any further on the topic? Oh, Grace knew her best friend well enough to know the answer to that question in advance.

"I doubt it was because of my snoring, and I haven't said any meaningful things in my sleep yet - I'm awake too, as you might have noticed, Grace - I can't sleep either. The break-in is still keeping me from focusing on not focusing on anything."

"I am aware you're not asleep, Frankie. But why, and don't get me wrong, why are you spooning me?"

Before Grace got her answer, she felt how Frankie retracted from her embrace slowly, probably realising just then how little Grace appreciated the gesture. Grace herself didn't object in the least.

"Because what I needed was physical comfort - it soothes me and helps me fall asleep. What's bothering you?"

It soothed Frankie and helped her fall asleep? The exact opposite from what spooning did to Grace. She was still wide awake, and she was praying to God that Frankie wouldn't notice how her heart was pounding fast and hard against her ribcage. Grace couldn't decide whether this situation was uncomfortable or very comforting - her pulse was sped up, her skin was heated up and she had a strangely familiar feeling rummage inside her stomach. Those feelings were something that Grace never expected, never wanted, never planned to feel for another woman, let alone the excessively spiritual Frankie Bergstein - but they were there. Frankie was doing this to Grace.

"... Nothing specific."

Silence. It was as if Frankie knew that there was more on Grace's mind, at least that was Grace's only explanation as to why the other woman wasn't yet attempting to illustrate how there were always influences for a person's disturbed sleeping pattern, and that you only had to meditate and focus on it to come to terms with whatever bothered you. It was as if Frankie was giving Grace all the time she needed to come to terms with her feelings first -

"Frankie?"

"Yes?"

"Can you ... Can we spoon again?"

No answer came from Frankie, no verbal one at least. Instead, Grace could feel the other woman's arm wrap around her waist again, this time significantly hesitant. Grace herself wasn't less hesitant. However, she made the one decision that she never expected herself to make - she carefully rested her palm on Frankie's forearm to reassure her. Maybe to reassure herself as well.

"Thank you."

Grace's words were barely a whisper in the darkness, frightened that her voice might betray her, that the tears in her eyes would make her voice crack and shake, that Frankie would notice Grace's quiet outburst of emotions. Meanwhile, Grace pressed her friend's arm more tightly to her stomach, and she felt Frankie snuggling closer into her. Their feet touched lightly and Frankie's voluminous locks lightly brushed over her business partner's face, her breath close to her ear. Slowly but surely, Grace gave in to the warm embrace. She gave in to her feelings. Then, she snivelled briefly.

"Are you okay, Grace? Do you have a cold? Should I go downstairs and make you a herbal tea or light an incense stick to cast out the germs from your body? I also have a da-"

"I'm okay, Frankie. I don't have a cold."

Now, Grace had definitely been betrayed by her own voice. Cursing herself in her mind, she closed her eyes yet again, another sniffing sound escaping her. There was another silence in the bedroom for a moment until Frankie's voice echoed through the air once more.

"Are you ... crying?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"What's wrong, Grace? Is it the break-in? What can I do to distract you? Do you want me to do stuff to you?"

There it was again. This question. Frankie's frequent worry, her continuous attempts at being there for Grace, no matter what. Her freaky ideas, her outgoing personality, her inability to respect another's personal space. How much Grace loved this all - sometimes too much, or maybe always too much. Was it even too much in the first place? These feelings were new to Grace - well, perhaps they weren't as new as she herself thought, but she was scared by them. But what did she have to be scared of?

For a while now, Grace has been finding herself in the same situation over and over again. Whenever she was close to Frankie, like she was at this very moment, her heart would race twice as fast, her body would heat up by a few degrees, and there would be this familiar tickle in her stomach - it felt like butterflies.

Butterflies were beautiful creatures, why should Grace be scared of something beautiful? It was unknown territory that she had entered, yes, but she had the feeling that it was the most beautiful unknown territory that she's ever treaded on. There was only one question remaining unanswered in Grace's head - did Frankie move on the same territory?

"You're already doing stuff to me, Frankie ..."

There were only two options. If yes, would it change anything? If no, would it change anything? It seemed rather plausible to Grace; she was scared of change. She was scared to lose Frankie.

"Spooning? But I didn't mean that when I asked - I meant more inappropriate adult things -"

"Frankie. I know what you meant, but I didn't mean spooning. I meant something else, too."

"... You did?"

Frankie's question sounded hesitant, even a little shy. Unlike what Frankie usually was and acted like. It made Grace bite down onto her lip, rethinking whether she wanted to proceed with what she had planned to say or whether to go with something new, guiding the conversation in an entirely different direction. The latter was the option that Grace would usually aim for.

"Nothing physical - speaking of which, would you honestly do stuff to me?"

"Of course I would, I'm open for anything, you should know that, and I'd do quite a few things to help you relax, but since you won't dance or smoke pot with me - what did you mean by nothing physical, Grace?"

Grace shifted lightly. Her long, slender fingers reached for Frankie's hand underneath her chest, carefully entwining their fingers.

"Frankie, you ... you've been doing things to my heart, inexplicable things that frighten me, and yet they feel so good and refreshing, and if I'm honest, I never wanted you to leave, I love having you around and -"

"Shhh."

That shushing sound from Frankie was all it took to silence Grace. The entrepreneuse pressed her lips together tightly, already cursing herself once again for allowing her feelings to get the better of her, for allowing them to loosen her tongue like they had. However, Frankie took the doubt away from Grace soon enough. Grace felt how Frankie shifted just a brief moment after shushing her, and she felt her pulling away her hand - not quite away, simply to another location on Grace's body. To her face, to be precise. Frankie placed her palm on Grace's cheek, very tenderly forcing her to turn her head and look up at Frankie, who had her upper body hovering above Grace.

Before Grace had a chance to explain herself further, to save herself out of this tremendously awkward situation, she felt Frankie's mouth crashing down onto her own. There was no reluctance or resistance from either side, maybe hesitance at first, and Grace's eyes went shut, brushing her lips against Frankie's lovingly, sensually, longingly; there was even the tiniest hint of passion.

When Frankie retracted, Grace kept her eyes closed for just another moment longer. Her heart was fluttering, the prickling on the surface of her nude lips only gradually subsiding.

"Oh, this was better than any of my many trips ... I hope you're feeling better now, Grace. Should I let you sleep?"

Grace was rendered speechless. She opened her blue eyes, looked up at Frankie despite seeing only her dark silhouette, and for a moment, merely their breathing was audible. Feeling Frankie's locks brush against her skin, Grace's mouth curled into a somewhat wry yet genuine smile. Was this happiness spreading throughout her body?

"I ... I'm feeling overwhelmed, to be honest. And I don't think I can sleep now, I'd rather you ... did this again."

"Did what again?"

"Kiss me."

"Would you repeat that, Grace?"

"Kiss me, Frankie."

That was when it happened. Frankie's lips met Grace's for another kiss, and this time less hesitant but a lot more eager to taste her best friend's mouth. She slipped one hand around Frankie's waist, pulling her close, feeling the woman's muscles tense for a brief moment against her frame before she relaxed in Grace's arms.

Wasn't this an extremely odd occurrence? It was, considering Grace had only just processed the recent events, the break-in, her lasting feelings and the encounters with Phil Milstein still rummaging inside Grace's head at times. And then there was Frankie - Frankie, who was in a serious relationship with Jacob, who had been even more taken aback by the break-in than Grace herself had been; the Frankie that was pressing herself against Grace at this moment, happily allowing Grace's tongue to slip into her mouth. What was this sudden passion?

To Grace, it felt like bottled up emotions were breaking out, after all. It felt like the entrepreneuse had been repressing feelings for much longer than she thought, and those exact feelings were taking over. It felt like Grace was losing control over herself, and if there was something that Grace despised more than a lack of alcohol in the house, it was losing control. Usually, Grace always got what she wanted, she had been taught from an early age on how to be the boss, to take responsibility, to always get her will; and meanwhile, she always maintained dignity. That was what she seemed to be losing - but was she really losing her dignity? If anything, she was losing her stuck up arrogance, her wall of self-protection, her will not to let anybody too close.

Minutes were passing by and neither of the women dared to interrupt their kiss, to disrupt their newly-found harmony, chemistry. However, Grace eventually ran her hand into Frankie's extraordinarily wavy hair, and she tugged at the strands to part their lips from one another.

"Frankie ... do you ... do you still want to do stuff to me?"

"Do you want me to do stuff to you?"

There was a silence between the two women for another moment, once again, and Grace attempted her hardest to make out what Frankie's eyes were telling her. It was too dark to really see, and yet, Grace had the feeling she knew exactly what her best friend's eyes were reflecting.

It didn't take any more words. Grace used the same hand that she used to break their kiss to push Frankie's head closer to her own again. Frankie flooded Grace's body with feelings, her hormones were spilling relentlessly. Was it really this much of a surprise to Grace? That Frankie was doing all this to her? Was is that much of a surprise that, after all, Grace loved Frankie?

The two women were living their second prime, they had for a while; they just had never realised what feelings they've truly had for one another all this time, until now. With that yet unspoken realisation, Grace and Frankie allowed themselves to fall freely, without restrictions – they would spend the night kissing, laughing, talking, and calling Grace's cousin - together.