Quick oneshot inspired by this post on tumblr.
Hairmergency
"Would you stop fidgetin? You ain't helping!" Brenda combed out a lock of auburn hair with her fingers and twirled it around the curling iron.
"Brenda, I don't have time for this! Why do you even have a curling iron in your desk anyway?" The Captain was in no mood, in a rush, and in high distress since she'd taken one glance in her tiny compact and seen the destruction atop her head. Destruction wrought by Brenda Leigh's – otherwise very capable – hands. It shouldn't have surprised her so much. She'd known what Hurricane Brenda was capable of when she forgot the consequences. And Sharon was beginning to think their impromptu afternoon meetings in Brenda's office were going to have brand-new, unanticipated consequences today.
Brenda huffed and stepped around the desk chair to lock eyes with the woman for a moment. "Sharon Raydor, do you want me to help or not?"
They held each other's eyes for nearly half a minute, neither giving an inch of apology. It was Sharon who broke the silence first, her eyes suddenly wide.
"You're burning. My hair."
Brenda's eyebrows shot up as she remembered her forgotten iron, locked around Sharon's once suitably handled coiffure.
"Oh shit!" She hissed as she released the smoking strands. She bared her teeth uncomfortably as she assessed the damage. Sharon buried her face in her hands.
"What the hell am I going to do? My meeting's in–" she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes until I have to give a presentation at the front of a room full of people who already hate me and now will have fuel to call me not only a bitch, but an unprofessional one at that, looking like I just walked into work five seconds ago even though I've been here five hours."
"Oh, please. No one's going to call you unprofessional just cause your hair's a little mussed." Brenda rolled her eyes as she doused a particularly unruly mass of wayward curls in hairspray. She hated when Sharon got this way over work – pissy and paranoid and all too willing to take it out on the closest confidant. Or secret, work girlfriend.
"Mussed?!" Sharon's voice was somewhere between a shriek and a whisper. "Mussed!" She repeated, flicking her compact from her purse again and positioning it to get a better look. "Brenda, it looks like I stuck my head under the hood of a broken-down vehicle for a few hours. This doesn't look mussed, it looks like a freak accident!"
Sharon curled a little piece of burnt hair around one finger and sighed miserably. Brenda tilted her head slightly, assessing the damage. It was certainly worse than she'd hoped. She'd never really had to do someone else's hair, just her own. It had turned out to be far more difficult than imagined and she'd been in over her head even before she'd picked up the curling iron. Now Sharon's hair looked like that of a sheepdog that had rolled around in wads of gum and suffered the fallout.
She used to love getting on the woman's bad side – provoking her until she suffered an embarrassing outburst in Pope's office or throwing up roadblocks in her investigation just to see her sweat. In truth, she still liked teasing Sharon. But since they'd been cooped up in her office one night after an indecently brutal case and released the dam of tension between them, she'd found much less maliciousness in their exchanges.
Now she could feel the waves of Sharon's disappointment. And it was a feeling Brenda found she loathed.
She bit her bottom lip and came around the chair to stand in front of the brunette. Sharon didn't immediately look at her. She was still sitting dejectedly, clutching her compact in one hand and staring at the floor.
Brenda put a gentle hand to the Captain's cheek and was soothed when Sharon didn't throw her off or turn away. Instead she turned into the hand, nuzzling it a little.
Brenda waited until Sharon finally looked up at her, with a kicked-puppy expression Brenda had never seen there before. Brenda's other hand found Sharon's, tangling their fingers together in a way that was comforting and familiar.
"You are beautiful and talented and incredible and the most professional person I know. And one presentation in front of a bunch of small-minded cops is not goin' to change any of those things. I am…" Brenda's eyes wandered over Sharon's head and her expression bent comically, "very sorry for what happened to your hair." Sharon chuckled, her face softening at every word. "And I will make it up to you." Brenda continued with a smirk. "But for now, I know you're goin' to go to that meeting and knock it out of the park. Just like everything else. Because you are Captain Sharon Raydor. And you are the best of us."
Sharon's entire demeanor had changed. Her features had lifted, her eyes were warm, and she was looking at Brenda like the blonde could do no wrong. Sharon took a second to stand from her chair and smooth out her suit. Then she wrapped her arms around Brenda's waist and pulled her in as tightly as possible.
"It's almost as if you talk to people for a living," Sharon said softly. Her voice was low and dark, fire-tinged, and if she didn't have a meeting, Brenda would have pounced on her for the second time that day. Instead she wrapped her arms around Sharon's neck, bringing their faces just an inch apart.
"I do what I can." Brenda replied, closing the last distance and pouring her lips into Sharon's. They moved slowly, delectably, taking one last chance to melt together before they had to return to their professional distance. With one last swipe of her tongue against the older woman's lips, Brenda pulled back, her body flushed all over. She curled a crazed wave behind Sharon's ear and smiled at her broadly.
"Go get 'em, Cap'n."
"Always, Chief." Sharon said, collecting her purse and beaming at her sometimes-girlfriend as she stepped out of the office. No matter how many looks or laughs or whispered comments were directed her way as the day wore on, Sharon couldn't help the lightness in her stomach and the firmness in her step that came from the delight of Brenda's company.