Frances/Natalie
Title: undercover
Author: giantessmess
Spoilers: Series 6
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frances Myers/Natalie Buxton
Word Count: 444
A/N: For sparklebunny (and when I've caught up on s7, Pat!slash) Tell me I'm not the only one who saw the subtext here.
It hadn’t been part of the plan.
Of course, that was part of doing undercover jobs. You went with the flow and you hoped - no, planned- to end up in a place that nabbed the bastard.
“You stupid bitch… You set me up. You bitch!”
Natalie would probably have spat at her, if she’d had more time to dwell on the betrayal.
Later on, the hate boiled to the surface. But Frances just stared her down and felt smug at the fact that Natalie Buxton was one of the truly sick bastards out there. Normal rules didn’t apply, like trust. Friendship? She was never Natalie’s friend. She’d always known she was a nonce.
She was often accused of getting too carried away with the undercover bit. Well, she was paid to play a prostitute, may as well have a few laughs out of it. May as well screw the bastards, as much as they were screwing her. That was the beauty of working Vice.
But Natalie wasn’t like that. She wasn’t Frances getting revenge on some invisible ‘them’. They’d shared a cell. She had to remind herself that this wasn't by accident. When did it start feeling like they were in it together?
“Is it just blokes that pay you, then?”
Frances shrugged. “No.” Edging closer. Or was Buxton leaning toward her?
She knew it was a bad idea. But the cell was so dark, and Natalies’s bunk was so warm, her breasts… and her mouth - her mouth…
And after Natalie came back charged with the new evidence, Frances wished she could go back to just hating her. She found herself wincing at the curses, cringing at the pathetic screws she was stuck babysitting. But there were always ways for her to draw Natalie to her. Excuses, to drag her into the Wing Governor's office.
“What have I done now?”
“Don’t act coy.”
Frances found she was suddenly terrible at smiling suggestively. Instead, she pulled Buxton toward her.
“Are you off your bleedin’ head?”
“What? It’s locked.”
“So are my knickers, Miss.”
But then Buxton would always smirk, undoing her top slowly, just to be infuriating. Too often, she’d rip Frances’s shirts. She liked to lose buttons. Leave deliberate lipstick stains. Bruises and teeth marks on Frances’s thighs, or on her neck, where everyone could see them.
Breathing onto her, tasting her, Buxton stopped, just as Frances felt her body shiver, her legs giving way.
“You know, you better start paying me. I’m not off my nutter, I know the score.”
She leant back and smirked as Frances gasped in frustration, irritated and aroused at the same time.
“Bloody hell, you really are a bitch.”
Author: giantessmess
Spoilers: Series 6
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frances Myers/Natalie Buxton
Word Count: 444
A/N: For sparklebunny (and when I've caught up on s7, Pat!slash) Tell me I'm not the only one who saw the subtext here.
It hadn’t been part of the plan.
Of course, that was part of doing undercover jobs. You went with the flow and you hoped - no, planned- to end up in a place that nabbed the bastard.
“You stupid bitch… You set me up. You bitch!”
Natalie would probably have spat at her, if she’d had more time to dwell on the betrayal.
Later on, the hate boiled to the surface. But Frances just stared her down and felt smug at the fact that Natalie Buxton was one of the truly sick bastards out there. Normal rules didn’t apply, like trust. Friendship? She was never Natalie’s friend. She’d always known she was a nonce.
She was often accused of getting too carried away with the undercover bit. Well, she was paid to play a prostitute, may as well have a few laughs out of it. May as well screw the bastards, as much as they were screwing her. That was the beauty of working Vice.
But Natalie wasn’t like that. She wasn’t Frances getting revenge on some invisible ‘them’. They’d shared a cell. She had to remind herself that this wasn't by accident. When did it start feeling like they were in it together?
“Is it just blokes that pay you, then?”
Frances shrugged. “No.” Edging closer. Or was Buxton leaning toward her?
She knew it was a bad idea. But the cell was so dark, and Natalies’s bunk was so warm, her breasts… and her mouth - her mouth…
And after Natalie came back charged with the new evidence, Frances wished she could go back to just hating her. She found herself wincing at the curses, cringing at the pathetic screws she was stuck babysitting. But there were always ways for her to draw Natalie to her. Excuses, to drag her into the Wing Governor's office.
“What have I done now?”
“Don’t act coy.”
Frances found she was suddenly terrible at smiling suggestively. Instead, she pulled Buxton toward her.
“Are you off your bleedin’ head?”
“What? It’s locked.”
“So are my knickers, Miss.”
But then Buxton would always smirk, undoing her top slowly, just to be infuriating. Too often, she’d rip Frances’s shirts. She liked to lose buttons. Leave deliberate lipstick stains. Bruises and teeth marks on Frances’s thighs, or on her neck, where everyone could see them.
Breathing onto her, tasting her, Buxton stopped, just as Frances felt her body shiver, her legs giving way.
“You know, you better start paying me. I’m not off my nutter, I know the score.”
She leant back and smirked as Frances gasped in frustration, irritated and aroused at the same time.
“Bloody hell, you really are a bitch.”