This fic has been a super bitch to write. It started as a one-shot in response to one of the Closer headcanons on tumblr (#102, if you're interested) and has quickly grown into something else. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. More chapters to come. As always, reviews are love. xoxo
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Sharon
She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at her front door. This is a bad idea, she thought, but she didn't move. Her phone was in her pocket; it would be the easiest thing in the world to pick it up, call Brenda, and tell her not to come over.
It would also be the hardest.
Sharon wasn't fooling herself. She knew her heart, knew how she felt, but she also knew how the world worked. Whatever reason Brenda actually had for coming over, Sharon knew the Deputy Chief would move on. The next morning, the next week, the next month, whenever; Brenda would move on and still have her perfect life with her adoring squad and her storybook husband and Sharon would still have nothing. She might even have less than nothing, if she gave Brenda everything she had.
But Brenda had asked if it would be all right if she stopped by, and Sharon had said yes.
She had tried to fortify herself for the upcoming meeting, which would almost certainly be disastrous. She had forgone her usual nightly drink, and had changed from her pristine suit into a pair of blue jeans and a too-big grey sweater. She'd pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She had seriously considered going without make-up as well, but she couldn't bring herself to go quite that far. And besides, she reasoned, there was absolutely no evidence to suggest that Brenda's intentions in coming over tonight were to do anything other than talk.
Except for the fact that it had been exactly one week since Sharon had fucked Brenda against the desk in her office.
She drew her knees up, hugging them against her chest, trying to think about anything else, but she couldn't keep her mind away from the memory of it, the feel of Brenda underneath her, the sound of her muffled cries, the way she-
The doorbell rang.
She knew she had to answer it, and so she did, sliding gracefully to her feet and padding silently across the floor.
Up to the moment her hand turned the doorknob, she thought she was prepared for this. She had a speech planned: "What happened last week was nice, but…" She had known it was wrong the instant her lips collided with the Deputy Chief's, never mind that she'd been wanting to for months, never mind that Brenda had wanted it as badly as she did. Never mind that they hadn't stopped at just a kiss. Oh no, they hadn't stopped until they were both mostly naked and sweaty, gasping their names into each other's necks. It was a mistake, no matter how good it had made her feel, and tonight she had to tell Brenda exactly that.
When Sharon opened the door, she found Brenda shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Sharon thought she looked quite adorable, but she quickly put an end to that train of thought. She had a mission, and she was going to see it through.
"Chief," she murmured quietly, holding the door open a little wider. She thought she might have seen the briefest flicker of disappointment on the other woman's features, but whatever that expression might have been, it quickly disappeared.
"Captain," Brenda answered with a murmur of her own, nodding to her as she slipped past the dark-haired woman and into her house.
Sharon hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about the circumstances under which Brenda would come to her house for the first time. Before the… incident, they had mostly loathed each other, and while that loathing had recently been tempered into a grudging respect, the idea of allowing Brenda Leigh into her personal life had been laughable. In the immediate aftermath of that fateful evening, Sharon had been too disgusted with her own lack of self-control to even contemplate inviting the Deputy Chief over. But when Brenda had swung by her office earlier that morning, offering a cup of coffee and a smile, Sharon had agreed to her request for a chance to talk. And now Brenda was in her home, and the awkward tension that had been bubbling between them for the last week rose to an almost unbearable level in a shockingly brief amount of time.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" Sharon asked, and immediately regretted it. She wanted this conversation to end as quickly as possible, and she didn't want Brenda to think that she was trying to… well, seduce her, because she wasn't, she really wasn't, she just-
"That would be lovely, Captain, thank you," Brenda said with a smile, and Sharon just nodded and turned on her heel, heading for the kitchen. Too late to back out now, she thought.
Sharon poured the wine, trying to keep herself focused on the task, and not distracted by the atrocious print of Brenda's skirt, or the warmth of her eyes. Sharon had been spending quite a long time trying not to be distracted by the Deputy Chief, and she had been mostly successful. There was just something about her; her easy confidence in her abilities at work, and the way that juxtaposed with her moments of heart-rending vulnerability, her devotion to her squad and to the cause of justice, her inspiring naiveté when it came to personal matters- everything about the Chief was distracting, like a puzzle Sharon couldn't quite figure out.
She handed Brenda a long-stemmed glass, and took up her own. The glass made a soft clinking sound as they gently tapped them together, and then each took a long drink, as if in toast, though what they possibly had to celebrate Sharon couldn't fathom.
The silence dragged on between them, and Sharon found herself growing impatient with the Chief.
"You said there was something you wanted to discuss?" she asked archly, and when she saw the anxiety wash over Brenda's features she was almost sorry for how heartless she must have sounded.
"Yes, Captain, there was. And I believe you know exactly what I am referring to." Sharon bit back a smile as those dark eyes turned on her.
She simply hummed in response.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Brenda actually stomped her foot. Sharon tried not to find that little gesture endearing, but it was difficult. "Captain, you kissed me!"
Did a lot more than that, Sharon thought, but she held back her words. She wanted to see what Brenda would say.
Brenda was actually blushing. Furiously. "I guess I just wanted to know where we stood," she added, eyes downcast, and she seemed so lost that the sight actually tugged at Sharon's heartstrings. She put down her glass and reached out, taking the blonde's hand in her own.
"Brenda," she said softly, "I'm so, so sorry," and Brenda jerked her head up to stare into Sharon's eyes, but she couldn't look at her, not yet, not before she'd said what she needed to, "I never meant to put you into this position, and I hope that we can move past this." She finally raised her gaze to meet the Deputy Chief's.
It was a little disconcerting, the way Brenda kept staring into her eyes, but Sharon found she couldn't look away. She didn't want to. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of something, and whichever way she stepped, forwards or back, her life was about to change. What had happened before was an accident. If Sharon dared make the same mistake twice, she would have no excuses for her actions. But Brenda kept looking at her, that unspoken need in her eyes and Sharon couldn't find a way to stop what happened next.
They were standing close to one another, and Sharon was still holding Brenda's hand. They moved together, falling into each other, with a momentum that had been building almost from the moment they met.
Brenda
She had so much she still needed to say, so many things she still needed to explain, but the feeling of Sharon's lips on hers again chased all other thoughts from her mind. Brenda had been taken with the dark-haired woman from the first time she saw her, in that hospital waiting room what seemed like lifetimes ago. Sharon had drawn her in in a way she had never experienced before. She had been frightened by how badly she wanted to trace the outline of the other woman's lips with her fingertips, to feel the softness of her skin under her hands, to know what sounds she would make when Brenda touched her. Brenda had tried to ignore it, but over time she found herself almost bound to the immaculate creature whose body was currently pressed flush to Brenda's. Sharon was a challenge, a force to be reckoned with, a reason for Brenda to try harder, be better. Sharon never let her get away with anything, and Brenda admired that about her. Admired her stubbornness, her pride, her steadfast desire to do the right thing.
But this was absolutely not the right thing.
She opened her mouth to Sharon's seeking tongue, and she knew, whatever her intentions might have been, that she was lost.
She reached for the hem of Sharon's grey sweater, and the Captain breathed a quiet sound of permission against her lips. Brenda tugged the heavy garment up and off, revealing the soft expanse of skin that she'd only sampled once before. Sharon smiled at her briefly before returning the favor, gentle fingers finding their way to the buttons of Brenda's shirt. Brenda dropped kisses along her collarbone, tasting her, her hands spanning the other woman's waist. She'd never wanted something this badly before. She thought she had, thought she knew what desire was, but Sharon Raydor had opened up the floodgates in her heart, and she found there was no going back.
Sharon tugged the shirt from Brenda's shoulders, and leaned in to kiss her again, lips sliding against each other as Sharon pulled her closer, let her feel the heat passing back and forth between them, electric, building towards something Brenda didn't want to name.
"Wait," Sharon whispered suddenly, tearing herself away. Brenda's heart nearly stopped, but then she saw Sharon's impish grin. "Not in the kitchen," the dark-haired woman murmured, and turned, leading Brenda by the hand.
Sharon Raydor was shirtless and leading Brenda towards her bedroom.
The room was exactly everything that Brenda wasn't expecting, but then, Sharon so rarely did what Brenda expected her to. The walls were painted a soft yellow, and there was color everywhere, soft splashes of color and more pillows than Brenda could count, a sort of homey warmth emanating from every inch of space, and Brenda knew she wanted to spend as much time in that sanctuary as she possibly could.
Sharon kept leading her forward until they collapsed on the bed alongside each other. Brenda reached out and gently laid a hand on Sharon's cheek, marveling at how she'd wound up in this situation, and hoping against hope that it wouldn't end any time soon.
Brenda closed the space between them, needing to feel Sharon again. Kisses with Sharon were so different from any Brenda had ever experienced before; it felt like Sharon was trying to slide inside her, become a part of her, and Brenda wanted her to.
"Please." Brenda wasn't sure which one of them said it; if it was Sharon, then the woman had learned how to read her mind. She slid an arm around the warm body pressed against hers, fingers fumbling and searching until she found the clasp of Sharon's bra. She flipped it open, and Sharon shimmied out of it, tossing the slip of fabric to the side before attacking Brenda's pulse point with her lips, tongue and teeth. Brenda shuddered, wanting a thousand different things at once, rejoicing silently when she felt Sharon's fingers on her back, divesting her of her own bra and tossing it in the same general direction.
Never one to sit back and let someone else to take control, Brenda flipped them easily, coming to rest astride Sharon's denim clad hips. Her immediate first thought was that the blue jeans had to go, but there were so many other things she wanted to do first. She was distracted from her task, however, by the simple radiance of Sharon Raydor.
Her Captain was smiling up at her, raising her hands to run her fingers through Brenda's hair in a distinctly affectionate gesture. Brenda's stomach did an odd little flip-flop. If all she felt for Sharon was a physical attraction, it wouldn't be so hard to stay professional. The problem was she felt so much more than that. Sharon had supported her through this Goldman mess, had proven herself to be a person Brenda could trust explicitly. There were so few people Brenda knew she could trust these days, and most of those people worked for her. Sharon didn't work for her; Sharon was one of the few people in the world who could actually keep up with her, who matched her level of single-minded focus.
Sharon's hand mimicked Brenda's earlier gesture, resting against her cheek, and Brenda turned her head ever so slightly, kissing the soft skin of her palm.
"How did this happen?" Sharon asked with a sigh, and Brenda almost laughed. She'd been wondering the same thing.
"I blame you," Brenda answered, leaning forward, peppering kisses along Sharon's jaw. "You charmed me." She didn't mean for the words to sound like an accusation, but they almost were. Sharon Raydor had somehow managed to wrap Brenda completely around her little finger.
Sharon
Brenda's lips continued their journey down from Sharon's jaw to the peak of her breast, and Sharon shamelessly wound her fingers in the other woman's long blonde hair, holding her head close against her skin. Brenda's kisses were fire, trailing across her skin, and Sharon wanted to be burned alive.
She tried to think of something clever to say in response to Brenda's "you charmed me" comment, but the feeling of Brenda's lips wrapping around her nipple stole the breath from her lungs. She could feel her need building, shifting, changing, becoming something she couldn't deny any longer. Without thinking her fingers found their way to Brenda's waist, searching for the zipper of the blonde's skirt.
Evidently that was not a part of Brenda's current plan, because the blonde pulled away. The loss of her warmth drew an unhappy sound from Sharon's throat, but Brenda just smirked down at her.
"Not yet, Captain," Brenda chided her, and Sharon made a mental note to tell her later that they really shouldn't use their ranks when they were in bed together. Of course that made it sound like they were going to spend a lot more time in bed together, which wasn't exactly what Sharon had intended.
Brenda was sliding down her body, and once again Sharon found her doubts giving way to a desire to just allow Brenda to do whatever she wanted, so long as that meant they were naked together.
Slender fingers were toying with the button of Sharon's jeans, and the Captain lifted her hips obligingly. Brenda hooked her fingers in the waistband of both her jeans and her panties, and tugged them down the length of Sharon's legs, depositing them in a pile on the floor. Brenda leaned forward, moving back up Sharon's body, hands trailing along the length of her legs. Sharon sighed again, resigned to being patient for the time being.
"What am I going to do with you?" Brenda said, nipping playfully at her jaw, and Sharon smirked back at her.
"Whatever it is, you better get on with it, or I'll find someone else who will," she told her, and Brenda laughed. Laughter wasn't a sound Sharon had heard from Brenda much before, and she found she liked it. She liked the way Brenda's face lit up when she was genuinely amused. She wanted to see that expression on her face more often.
"Yes, ma'am," Brenda said with a grin, and Sharon wished for the briefest moment that she had that on tape. She would love to play it back for Brenda later, just to remind her of this moment.
Brenda's hands had clearly decided what they wanted to do- one was toying with Sharon's nipple while the other was headed steadily southward. She slipped her fingers over the skin of Sharon's stomach, down through the thatch of auburn curls, and into the warmth between her legs. Sharon bucked up underneath her, making a small sound as Brenda cupped her sex, thumb trailing gentle circles around her clit. She couldn't stop the moan the escaped her lips, and once again, Brenda laughed, a small, joyous little sound.
This was so different from their hurried tryst in the office. Before it had been about overwhelming need, their actions rushed by a fear of getting caught, a fear of stopping long enough to actually think things through. They'd been hasty, not taking the time to enjoy each other, and practically running away by the time they were finished. This, though, this was different. Tonight they had all the time in the world, and they moved slower, reveling in the feeling. Brenda's lips found their way back to Sharon's, and Sharon shifted, wrapping one arm around Brenda's back, the other sneaking between them so she could knead the soft mound of Brenda's breast. The Chief made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat that reverberated through Sharon's chest, and she smiled against her lips.
Brenda's fingers brushed down through Sharon's wetness, one slender digit sliding up and into her, and Sharon moaned into her mouth. The Chief didn't stop kissing her, their tongues moving against each other with a building tempo to match the rhythm Brenda was setting with her fingers. Slow, so achingly slow, so exactly what Sharon needed from her, Brenda moved, adding a second finger and then a third as she felt Sharon open up to her.
So close, Sharon thought.
"So close," she gasped against Brenda's mouth, and there was that damnable smile again.
"Tell me what you need, Sharon," Brenda answered her, fingers still pumping slowly in and out, her palm just grazing Sharon's clit as she moved.
"Harder, please, just harder," Sharon managed to gasp before Brenda's lips descended on hers again. Apparently in a mood to please, Brenda did as she asked, her fingers pushing deep, deep inside, pulling out only to thrust back in again, guided with the force of her own hips, over and over, until Sharon was writhing underneath her. The Chief slid her mouth away from Sharon's and back to her breast, latching onto the soft skin there, until finally with one last thrust she had Sharon crying out, fingers twisted in the sheets, as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.
Sharon couldn't remember why she ever thought this was a bad idea.
Brenda
It was hours later when Brenda found herself roused from sleep by the gentle press of lips against her shoulder. She smiled softly to herself before she rolled over, face-to-face with a slightly rumpled and utterly adorable Sharon Raydor. The woman seemed different like this, covered only by the same sheet that Brenda was wrapped in, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes half closed.
"I wasn't sure if you really wanted to stay the night," Sharon said softly, and Brenda's heart ached for her. She remembered what that felt like, when she was the one sleeping with a married man, and all she wanted was for him to stay, even when she knew that he should go home to his wife.
Brenda leaned forward, kissing Sharon lightly. "It's ok," she said. "Fritz knows I'm here."
Which was, it seemed, exactly the wrong thing to say.
Sharon shot upright so fast it made Brenda feel a little dizzy, dragging the sheet up to cover the swell of her breasts. "What do you mean?" she asked.
And there it was. Yes, this little get-together had been Fritz's idea, but Brenda hadn't shared that particular piece of information with Sharon yet, and she wasn't quite sure how Sharon would take it.
"I told Fritz that I had… feelings, for you," she said, sitting up and mimicking Sharon's posture, though she made no effort to cover herself.
"You did what?"
"I know, it sounds crazy. But I can't ignore the way I feel about you, and it isn't fair to Fritz-"
"Did you tell him that we had sex?" Sharon's eyes were drilling holes in Brenda, but she wouldn't back down.
"No, I didn't." Sharon made an unhappy noise. "But he said he understood. In fact, me coming over here was his idea."
Brenda immediately regretted her words. Sharon was out of the bed in an instant, crossing the room and pulling on the robe that dangled by a hook near the door.
"You coming over here to talk, or you coming over here to have sex with me?" Sharon asked, her voice carrying the icy-calm tone Brenda had begun to associate with Sharon in full Captain Bitch Raydor mode.
"Sharon-"
"Oh my God. He gave you permission. To fuck me. This is unbelievable."
"Oh, and you'd be happier if he didn't know? If I was just cheating on him?" Brenda wasn't sure how this night that had started out so well had gone so badly so quickly. It was like watching a building explode.
"Yes!" Sharon exclaimed. "Yes, I would! God, Brenda, do you really think he's ok with this? Whatever he told you, do you really think your husband doesn't mind you sleeping with me? What would you do if Fritz told you he had feelings for someone else?"
Sharon's questions tore at Brenda in a way she wasn't expecting. She'd been so focused on getting what she wanted, she was beginning to realize she hadn't thought this all the way through. What had started as minor problem had devolved into a full-blown disaster, and she found she had no one to blame but herself.
The Captain spun on her heel and disappeared through the door in a haze of pale blue silk and tousled hair.
Fritz
A thousand thoughts flitted through his mind, a thousand possibilities, turning his stomach and throwing him off balance. It was late, late enough that he knew she wouldn't be coming home tonight. He had hoped, in the beginning, when this whole goddamn thing got started, that Brenda Leigh would come home. That she would do what Brenda Leigh always did when it came to her personal life- take what she wanted, ruin everything, and then demand that someone else fix it for her. Fritz was more than happy to clean up her messes, so long as she slept in his bed at the end of the night.
Only tonight, she wasn't coming home.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at a bottle of wine on the table.
Wine was never his drink. Before his addiction spiraled out of hand, all wine had ever done for him was make him maudlin and sleepy. And by the time he became a full-fledged alcoholic, a bottle of wine never seemed like enough. He liked whiskey, scotch, bourbon, the stuff the cops in all his favorite movies drank to wash away their sins.
He hadn't had a drop of any of it in years, but damn if his selfish little wife didn't have a small horde of wine bottles tucked in every available nook and cranny of their kitchen. He worried about her some days, he really did. He could count on his fingers the number of times he'd seen her drunk enough to pass out in the last seven years, but he could also count on those same fingers the number of nights Brenda Leigh hadn't ended with at least one very large glass of Merlot. Some times it takes an addict to recognize the signs.
Which, interestingly enough, was how he'd discovered Brenda Leigh's other little… problem in the first place.
He continued to stare at the bottle of wine. He was maudlin enough without it, any more and he'd be bordering on melancholic. Wine was never his drink of choice, but on a night like this, with the reality of what his life had become weighing down on him, alone in his home with the cat he'd bought for his wife, any fucking drink would do.
And that scared him.
Brenda brought out parts of his personality that downright terrified him at times. Before she'd shown up in L.A. all those years ago, he'd only been going to one meeting a month. He was happy. He slept well.
And now?
Well, now he was staring at a bottle of wine seriously contemplating getting roaring drunk for the first time in a decade while his wife was out fucking another woman with his permission.
It had been his idea, this little experiment. Fritz loved Brenda. Sharon wanted to fuck Brenda. Brenda loved Fritz and wanted to fuck Sharon. Fritz decided that it would be best for everyone if the two of them just got it out of their system. Then Brenda wouldn't constantly be distracted by the prospect of sleeping with Sharon, and their lives could return to some kind of normalcy.
Except that Fritz hadn't expected her to spend the night.
He hadn't actually asked her if she would, and she hadn't said one way or the other. She had discretely packed a change of clothes into her obscenely large purse when she thought he wasn't looking, but that could have meant anything. She had kissed him soundly before she left, whispering that she loved him before she disappeared and he closed the door behind her. She hadn't dressed up, but then why should she? The whole point of the evening was for her to be undressed.
With Sharon Raydor.
For one moment Fritz wondered what would have happened if the tables were turned. If there was someone Fritz felt the same gravitational pull toward that Brenda seemed to feel for Sharon. Would Brenda let him sleep with someone else, in order to save their relationship?
He actually laughed out loud at the prospect. No, if he had even broached the subject with her she probably would have left him. She didn't share well, and she didn't like coming in second place. There would have been tears, screaming; she probably would have hit him, actually, but Brenda would rather leave him than let him fuck someone else.
And Fritz would rather let Brenda fuck someone else than leave her.
What the hell has happened to us?
He was still staring at that damnable bottle of wine.
How could he possibly love her this much? Fritz wasn't one of those "civilized" people who believed in open-marriages and threesomes and shit like that. Fritz was a man who believed in the vows he had taken. Was he a little possessive? The way his hackles raised every time Will Pope came within ten feet of Brenda was proof enough that Fritz wanted to keep her to himself. But faced with the prospect of losing her altogether, he hadn't stood his ground. He had faltered, and then crumbled beneath the fear of going on without her.
It wasn't just that he was used to her now. Used to her mess, her temper, her sweetness, her smile, the feel of her next to him in the morning… yes, he was used to her, and to try to live without the thousand little moments that had become part of their routine together would be difficult. But more than that, he needed her now. She was the other part of himself, the slightly silly, incredibly warm, vivacious part that had sort of died before she came along.
Without her, who would he be?
Without her, he reasoned, I'd be alone in my kitchen on a Friday night staring at a bottle of wine.