Pairing: Bridget/Franky

Timeline: Set after 3x08: Goldfish

The Kiss

The kiss, when it happened, was fierce and frantic.

Kim had accused her of screwing Franky, in front of everyone in group therapy, and the women's jeers and catcalls still rang in her ears. She'd felt humiliated. Exposed.

Franky stayed behind when the others had gone. She helped Bridget put the chairs and tables back.

Bridget couldn't look at her. She heard her heart drumming, felt the blush in her cheeks, knew she'd give herself away if she looked into Franky's eyes… those keenly perceptive eyes.

"Kim's an idiot. No one took her seriously," Franky said gently.

Bridget stacked the last chair and picked-up her notepad. She hazarded a glance at Franky. "Us being here alone won't help extinguish those rumours."

The brunette shrugged. "So? Who cares what they think."

And Bridget couldn't bring herself to admit that she didn't care what the other inmates thought but she did care that every time she was alone in a room with Franky it was getting harder to walk away, harder to restrain herself, harder to resist.

She clutched the notepad to her chest, as if for protection. "Be smart Franky," she warned.

Franky moved closer, too close. "I don't want to be smart. I want you. You feel it too, I know you do."

And there it was. Out in the open. Candid and intense. But that was Franky all through. Reckless and passionate and intoxicating.

The words hung between them. Airlessly. Franky's smouldering eyes burrowed into Bridget, who sucked in a sharp breath.

With all the self-control she could muster, Bridget turned and walked away - because she had to, because it was the right thing to do.

Before she reached the library door arms grabbed hold of her and span her round.

Franky's fevered lips impacted with hers… Bridget's notepad crashed to the floor and instinctively her hands were in Franky's hair, pulling her closer. Their bodies pressed flush against each other as Franky pined her up against a desk.

The kiss was fierce and frantic. A blur of limbs and tongues, expectation and longing.

Eager hands gripped Bridget's back, holding her tightly. She felt Franky's breasts press into her, felt her body respond… felt fingers digging into her skin, felt Franky's hips push urgently against her own.

One of Bridget's hands trailed down Franky's neck and slid down her side, tracing the curve of her waist and the outline of her hip. The other hand cupped Franky's face, deepening the kiss. Franky moaned into her mouth and Bridget burned with desire. She wanted this. She'd wanted it for so long.

Suddenly Franky slowed, softening the kiss – drawing it out. It was so tender, it took Bridget by surprise. Her mind scrambled to catch-up with what was happening… what she was letting happen. They weren't in private… anyone could walk in at any moment…

The room, and reality, slowly came back into focus and Bridget broke the kiss.

They pressed their foreheads together. Their breath coming as one; erratic and tremulous. This had been unavoidable.

"There. The world didn't implode, did it?" Franky whispered.

"Almost," Bridget whispered back.

Franky smiled.

Reluctantly they drew apart.

Bridget glanced down at the strewn pages of her notepad. She crouched down and began to gather them up. Franky knelt beside her, her fingers accidentally brushing Bridget's as they reached for a piece of paper simultaneously. Catching each other's eye, they smiled sheepishly. And for the first time Bridget allowed herself to think maybe, just maybe…

When all the papers were recovered, they stood up.

Bridget straightened her dress and smoothed her tousled hair with her hand. She peered down at herself, making sure she didn't look as chaotic as she felt.

"You look fine," Franky assured. "Mighty fine," she added teasingly as her eyes scanned the length of the psychologist's body. Her eyebrows rising suggestively.

Bridget tilted her head, an exasperated smile played on her lips. "Behave."

Franky smirked. "Where's the fun in that, Gidge?" and she ran her tongue provocatively across her bottom lip; her eyes never leaving Bridget's. She could still taste Bridget… that was going to drive her wild all day.

Then, sensing that now was not a time for flippancy, Franky reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind the blonde's ear. "There. Perfect." She murmured.

Franky felt Bridget tremble beneath her touch and it filled her with hope. An ambiguous hope. She didn't believe in happy endings and all that pipe-dream bullshit but Bridget was different. Bridget was a straight-shooter.

As they gazed at each other, Bridget didn't know what to say. Words suddenly seemed inadequate. So she smiled. That smile she only gave to Franky.

Bridget left the library first. Her lips still tingling from that blistering kiss and her mind reeling.

As Franky headed back to her unit, she couldn't hide her grin. Maybe she owed Kim a thank you rather than a bashing.