Britta can’t get a read on Frankie. She can’t tell if she’s blunt like Jeff or blunt like Abed, determined like Annie or determined like Chang. Frankie will catch her staring sometimes, but Britta isn’t afraid of her - she lived in New York - and refuses to look away until Frankie does. There’s something going on here, just under the surface, and Britta will play nice, but the moment she can piece it all together, she’ll expose her and be vindicated.
Frankie x Britta 7k (on AO3)
Frankie is severe. That’s Britta’s first thought, and then immediately followed by this is going to be a nightmare. She comes into the group as an outside, proclaims herself the leader, and expects everyone to fall in line– like a dictator setting up a new regime.
Frankie pulls out a nondescript black binder and Britta glances over at Jeff, certain he’ll put a swift stop to this, but Jeff seems just as confused as she is. Frankie talks to them like they’re below her, like they didn’t just spend a whole year turning Greendale into an asset, fixing 534 disasters on a zero dollar budget, and only causing a roof collapse because a to-do star was caught behind some books.
“Who in the crazy bitch…” Britta mutters as Frankie leaves the room as quickly as she comes in. The group starts talking over each other to complain and Britta furrows her brows and purses her lips, eyes lingering on the door. Annie complains about the binder and Britta wants to chime in about Frankie’s outfit, about the black high-neck under a black blazer and is she allergic to color?
“Okay, guys, just relax,” Jeff says and the group falls silent. “It’s not going to be that bad.” But even as he says it, his face is pinched in confusion. Britta hopes he’s right, hopes he has a plan to get rid of her before too much happens and she stays.
“Britta,” Frankie says and Britta’s jaw clenches at the soft inflection. “What is the weekly cost of this restaurant?”
“Oh that’s easy. My dignity.”
“It seems like this sandwich counter is consuming your happiness and converting it into burnt bread and debt.”
Britta very deliberately loosens her jaw muscles so she doesn’t crack a tooth.
“So?” Frankie has no authority here. This is Shirley’s sandwich shop, this is Britta’s job, and Greendale isn’t being affected by poor sales so until Shirley comes back and tells Britta to do something different, then Britta will be here, burning sandwiches.
“I just think–” Frankie starts and is interrupted by Jeff, hurrying to the counter to complain about the prohibition inflicted on the school at Frankie’s order. Britta has to fight back the smirk that’s threatening to show itself. There was the fatal mistake; Jeff’s not much of a follower and he’s certainly not going to take this sitting down. The two of them share a look when Annie approaches and Frankie bulldozes over her and subtly mocks the decorations on Annie’s binder.
This bitch has got to go.
The speakeasy was the only obvious option and for a moment, everything felt normal. If she forced herself to metaphorically go cross-eyed, Frankie was gone, Troy was still off with Abed, Shirley was just out of sight around the corner and Pierce was wandering around trying to find the entrance. It was a place free of real worry; it was Greendale and she didn’t have to think about the stupid monotone of Frankie’s voice, about her dark clothes or darker eyes.
Until, of course, the evil genie powers of the campus had her materialize at the door with a costumed police raid and Britta hates her a little bit, for real. Because she’s mocking them, because she took something that was theirs and made it a joke. Because she acts like they’re children and incompetent and then she both implies Abed can’t think for himself and that they are a bad influence on him. Britta’s angry in a way she hasn’t been since she was 17. Before she can so much as look at Jeff to do something, Frankie crashes and burns and then just doesn’t come back.
And she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care when Frankie runs out of the speakeasy in a panic, or when the campus dissolves into drunken mayhem, but she does feel a very real, visceral panic when Annie’s rushed off in an ambulance because of their reckless decisions to get rid of the only other person on this campus who was helping.
They’re just stepping out of the emergency room when Britta grabs Jeff and Abed’s arms.
“Is this our fault?” Britta asks, looking between the two of them. Jeff shakes his head but his face is pinched, and Abed nods.
“Yeah,” Abed says as Jeff says, “No, I mean–”
“Annie’s in the hospital.” Britta’s heart pounds in her chest. “We need Frankie back.”
She looks at Jeff and Abed follows suit. Jeff looks at her, then Abed, then back at the sliding doors of the ER, then back to Abed.
“Okay. Let’s go find her.”
Britta can’t get a read on Frankie. She can’t tell if she’s blunt like Jeff or blunt like Abed, determined like Annie or determined like Chang. Frankie will catch her staring sometimes but Britta isn’t afraid of her - she lived in New York - and refuses to look away until Frankie does. There’s something going on here, just under the surface, and Britta will play nice, but the moment she can piece it all together, she’ll expose her and be vindicated.
They’re making a financial budget for the next midterms dance- everyone’s supposed to be individually researching prices and vendors and Britta’s bored out of her mind. She’s chewed the cap of the pen she’s borrowing from Jeff flat and scribbled enough in the margins of her paper that she doesn’t have anymore space.
“Okay, I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces, standing. Annie looks up then slides her seat back, capping her gel pen and closing her notebook before standing, too.
“Frankie?” Annie asks and Jeff looks up from his phone and glances between them.
Annie makes eye contact with Britta before looking at Jeff and then to Frankie, who hadn’t bothered to look up from her laptop screen.
“Okay,” Annie says and moves around the table to join Britta at the door. Call her a hypocrite, but all Britta can think is they’re in trouble.
When she finds out her friends were taking money from her parents to take care of her, she’s heartbroken. She thought she had something here and she feels betrayed; part of her wants to run but another part of her is just exhausted. She goes back to the apartment and grabs a duffle bag of clothes and then sits in the living room on her knees, fighting back tears.
Where is she supposed to go now? What is she supposed to do? She doesn’t even know how long her friends have been in contact with her parents. Was it since the beginning? She can’t call Jeff for a ride, can’t live with Abed and Annie, Troy is completely off the grid; if she were to call Shirley, would Shirley just tell the others? Tell her parents? She doesn’t know where her tent is and angry helplessness floods her and she wipes the tears off her cheeks. Where is she supposed to go now.
She chokes on her own breath and forces herself to get under control. First things first, she has to get out of the apartment. She doesn’t want to be here when Annie and Abed come back, so she gets to her feet and trudges on.
Unconsciously she ends up at Greendale and the knot in her chest tightens and grows. She can’t be here; they know everywhere she could possibly be. And that’s the issue, they know her too well so how could they not have known this would hurt her?
She turns, tears burning her eyes and stares out into the parking lot, trying to breathe through the sob that’s trying to hitch itself in her chest, when she sees it.
A boring, basic, grey sedan with no defining characteristics aside from one small patch of paint chipping on the hood.
Britta remembers it distinctly because she’d spent the whole drive home using the blandness as fuel to the fire of irritation burning in her. That’s the last place anyone would think to look for her and while Frankie may hate her, she’s such a stickler for rules that she would never be able to be a bought spy.
Some things are more muscle memory than actual knowledge. Popping the lock of an old sedan takes no more effort than finding a tool that will do the work. She climbs into the back and curls up facing the backseat and lets herself cry.
“I’m awake!” Britta shouts as she shoots upright. Frankie screams and Britta flinches before apologizing until Frankie stops screaming.
“What are you doing in my car?”
Britta’s heart is pounding and her voice trembles when she says, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Nowhere but my car?” Frankie’s still yelling and Britta’s breath catches and she leans against the seats. “Do you know how big the planet is!”
She really doesn’t want to cry in front of Frankie. She hadn’t planned this far ahead, but she didn’t know Frankie would yell at her over this. She can feel Frankie’s eyes burning into her through the mirror and she can’t make herself return the gaze.
“What is going on, Britta?” Frankie asks, voice considerably softer than before.
“My friends,” she says, voice cracking, “they all think my parents are adorable. They think I’m the bad guy for hating them. But I have a right,” she rushes to say before Frankie can take their side. “I had to be there when they sucked.”
“Yeah, Jimmy Fallon Syndrome. I get it. I had that with my parents, too.”
Britta’s chest loosens and she’s finally able to look up at Frankie’s reflection in the mirror. She’s looking at her with an open expression and Britta has to look away again.
“You know,” Frankie continues, “one of the most unfair lessons we’re forced to learn is that our parents are human beings. We wanna think of them as gods, or demons, because then that makes us heroes, but we all suck.”
And Britta gets it. Suck it up. Grow up. Everyone has it bad and she’s acting like a child. She needs to get out of Frankie’s car and go somewhere else. Her fingers tighten around the backpack strap and she wonders if she could sneak into an unused classroom for the night.
“What can I do to help you tonight, Britta?”
She can’t remember the last time someone asked that of her. “I-I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Frankie says softly and starts her car. Britta doesn’t ask where they’re going and it doesn’t seem like Frankie has a destination in mind. They drive in silence for a few blocks and Britta lets herself space out while she stares at out the window.
“I can’t help but think,” Frankie says hesitantly, “that your friends liking your parents isn’t the problem.”
Britta sighs softly. “My parents are paying off my debts to them and I know they’re using it to spy on me. Manipulate me. Annie and Abed only let me move in because my parent are paying the rent. I was- I was homeless and in the end, my friends only wanted to help me out when my parents bribed them into it.”
She waits for the useless platitudes, the explanation and potential excuses to fill the silence, but Frankie doesn’t say a word. She likes that. For all that Frankie is, she isn’t a liar and Britta craves that silent honesty all the more now that she knows what her friends have been doing.
“You’re a very proud person,” Frankie finally says and Britta looks at her through the rearview mirror, but Frankie’s eyes don’t leave the road. “You know what’s right, what’s wrong, and how it fits into your worldview. I imagine you had to have been to be raised in financial manipulation.”
Frankie’s talking in starts and stops, like she’s a very bad liar or she’s trying very hard to make what she says count.
“I haven’t been here very long and I don’t know everyone very well, but I would think your friends would know this about you. I believe they feel similarly; the moral compass on this committee is certainly questionable, but it seems like you all point to the same north.” Britta frowns at the complisult, but Frankie doesn’t notice.
“I think it would be wildly out of character for them to do something to intentionally hurt you.”
Now Frankie’s eyes flicker up to meet Britta’s and she’s staring at her like she’s waiting for an answer. Britta nods and Frankie does too, eyes back on the road.
“I’m not saying this was a misunderstanding, but maybe they misunderstood the gravity of their behavior. We all have our own burdens and our own resentments, but what’s important is making sure we don’t let our resentments follow us and ruin our lives.”
It all sounds so simple when it comes from Frankie’s soothing, monotoned voice and the chaotic whirlwind of her brain settles at Frankie’s words. She’s right, and Britta only hates admitting that a little.
“I can drop you off wherever you want to go, but if you’re not ready to see them, you can use my couch.”
“You don’t mind?” The words come out small and soft and Frankie looks back in the mirror with her kind, dark eyes.
Frankie’s couch is a very practical tan color with plump cushions and soft armrests. She tucks a light blue sheet over it and places a spare pillow at one end while Britta tries to discreetly look around. The apartment looks more like corporate housing than it does a place someone lives and she wonders if Frankie likes it like that, or if she just hasn’t totally unpacked.
Frankie pats the pillow and then turns to Britta with a small smile. “I have to be at my aunts pretty early tomorrow, so I’ll try not to wake you. Help yourself to the fridge and lock up when you leave.”
Britta nods and moves towards the couch as Frankie moves to leave the room. “Thank you. For all this.”
Frankie pauses at the doorway and smiles back at her. “Goodnight, Britta.”
Britta wakes up slowly to a room flooded with sunlight. She stretches and lays there, cuddled in the duvet, and waits for the embarrassment of last night to chase away the contentment of the morning, but it never comes. It felt good to be mad, to cry, to tell someone about why she was upset and it felt even better to be listened to; to have someone hear her and understand that she was allowed to be upset. She grabs her phone to check the time and see’s it had died at some point and she fishes for the charger in her bag and plugs it in before making her way to the small kitchen. There’s a note on the fridge that, again, encourages Britta to help herself and Britta smiles despite herself at it. There isn’t much in there, but after opening nearly every cabinet she finds a glass and she pours herself some orange juice.
It’s not as late in the morning as she thought it was and as she’s folding the blankets back up on the couch, she glances at the door and then deeper into the apartment. She doubts she’ll get an opportunity like this again, and even if she feels a little guilty for doing it, Britta wants to explore around, to learn about what Frankie keeps behind closed doors.
The hallway ends with three doors and a utility closet. Britta cracks open the door and peeks her head in. It’s an office; a few bookshelves line the walls, a desk facing the windows with a computer on it. Frankie’s diploma hangs in a brown frame and Britta steps in closer to look at it when her eyes catch on a picture hanging by the desk. She beelines to it. It’s a picture of Frankie, sandwiched between two other dark-haired women in a backyard. They all have the same nose and piercing eyes and they’re all beaming at the camera.
Sisters. She didn’t know Frankie had siblings.
In the living room, her phone dings, and Britta jumps at the sound. She hurries out of the office, making sure to close the door back. The next door is the bathroom and Britta takes a moment to poke at the puffiness of her eyes and splash some water on her face.
She hesitates, though, at the door leading to Frankie’s room. As curious as she is, it feels like too large an invasion of privacy and she backs away into the living room again.
Her phone’s still lighting up with incoming messages and she sits on the couch, tucking her feet under her and takes a deep breath before opening it. Apparently her phone had died early yesterday and she’s since missed seven phone calls and enough text messages that her phone’s glitching. Once her phone catches up, she keeps reading the last two messages from last night:
[10:42p] Jeff: Will you at least let us know you’re alive and safe?
[11:13p] Annie: Frankie told us you were with her. Will you please come home when you wake up? We all need to have a talk.
Britta feels guilty about worrying them and sighs. Yeah they do need to talk.
[9:55a] Britta: I’m on my way.
Guilt rests heavy in her chest and nerves twist around in her stomach. She’s a little afraid of what they have to say and terrified to find out how long her parents have been working with them to keep tabs on her, but Frankie’s words keep her upright. It doesn’t matter how mature we are, or what resentments we carry; all that matters is everyone dies and she has to trust that her friends wouldn’t intentionally hurt her.
Before she can decide if she should knock or let herself in, the door swings open and Abed and Annie are standing there. Annie throws herself at Britta, wrapping her arms around her neck and hugging her tightly.
“Hey, Annie,” Britta says slowly and hugs her back, face twisting in confusion.
“We were all pretty worried,” Abed explains and she can see Jeff standing behind Abed, watching the scene with his eyes pinched in a way that means he’s serious.
“I was fine,” she says and Annie finally releases her. “I’ve lived in New York.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t know where you were,” Annie says, voice soft and shaky.
“Or if you were going to come back,” Abed adds.
“Why don’t we move into the living room,” Jeff says before Britta can respond to that. Abed nods and moves after Jeff, but Annie waits until Britta steps into the apartment, like she was afraid Britta would bolt and Britta’s heart lurches at the thought.
The red couch is still wrapped up in plastic, so Abed takes a chair and Annie sits on the armrest and Jeff stands against the wall, leaving the remaining chair open for Britta to take. They’re all staring at her and it feels dangerously close to an intervention.
“We owe you an apology,” Jeff starts and Britta jerks her head to look at him. She can see Annie and Abed nodding out of the corner of her eye.
“We didn’t know you’d be so upset,” Annie says. “We didn’t know you had a real reason. We just thought you were rebelling because that’s what you do.”
That stings, but it’s fair.
“I don’t want anything to do with them,” she says and she hates that her voice cracks at the sincerity.
“And that should have been good enough,” Jeff says, shifting his weight. “But, Britta, we can’t afford to take care of you like this without their help.”
She knows. Rationally, she knows. She can’t really be mad at them over it.
“You don’t have to go over for game nights and dinner, though.” She sounds petulant, even to her own ears, but they don’t call her out on it. Her eyes burn so she stares at a spot on the wall near the baseboard to avoid looking at them.
“And we won’t anymore!” Annie rushes to say.
“We just can’t stop taking their money if we want to help you,” Jeff finishes. “And we want to help you. So if you’ll let us, we’ll take their money, but we won’t tell them anything you don’t want us to.” She looks up at that, staring at Jeff and trying to read deception on his face; he’s a good liar, but he’s never really lied to them, not seriously, and when she looks at Annie and Abed, their expressions mirror Jeff’s honesty.
“So you’ll move in?” Abed asks. Britta nods with a small smile and Annie squeals a little, doing a small shake of her shoulders before moving to grab Britta in a hug again.
“But before I do, I have to know how long this has been going on for.”
Annie pulls back but doesn’t release the hold around Britta’s neck.
“It’s only been a few months,” she says and Abed continues, “They reached out after the school paper wrote about you living on the front lawn.”
Britta looks at Jeff, who has the decency to look embarrassed. “It’s true. I was only messing with you to get you riled up. I didn’t know why you were so upset. I-I’m sorry.”
The tight band constricting around Britta’s heart snaps and for the first time all day, it feels like she can breathe. “Okay,” she says with a smile and returns Annie’s hug. She widens her arms and gestures for the others. There’s a second of nothing and then Abed and Jeff lean down and around to join in on the hug. It doesn’t last for as long as she’d like, but it was exactly what she needed.
Britta doesn’t see Frankie again until Monday and she still waits for the flood of embarrassment that doesn’t show. Frankie’s smile seems genuine when she sees Britta walk into the study room.
“Hey,” Britta says with an answering smile and Chang looks up from rummaging around in his backpack with a wave.
“Are you feeling better?” Frankie asks and Chang frowns.
“No, I’m fine,” Britta says waving him off and nodding at Frankie.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Frankie says as Elroy and Jeff enter arguing about copyright law.
Frankie’s addictive. She’s confusing and captivating, but in the same breath she’s overwhelmingly transparent and abrasive. If she’s not physically in front of Britta, she’s taken control of her thoughts. It’s less like an evil genie and more like an elevator song you find yourself humming all day. She actively seeks her out just to be able to watch her, to know what makes her tick and figure out how she has the time to do all she does.
Current theory, she has a twin.
The more time Britta spends with her, though, the more she’s aware of just how amazing Frankie is. She’s next-level in her planning, timing her day to the minute in order to fit in everything that needs to be done. She’s determined and put-together in a way Britta envies. And she’s funny, funnier than Britta thought at first and funnier than Frankie herself realizes she is.
When Jeff comes in one day, when it’s just the original members meeting for lunch, and whispers in a hushed tone that Frankie might be gay, it makes sense to Britta. Frankie’s… odd. And Britta’s never met a lesbian, but she imagines they’re a little odd.
And suddenly, she can’t stop thinking about her. She wants to ask her, but doesn’t want to be homophobic, so instead she just… it’s not spying if they happen to be in the same space coincidentally, okay? She’s just trying to picture it. Frankie and another woman. Going out to dinner, holding hands, kissing…
It makes sense. It’s easy to imagine kissing Frankie, reaching out and grabbing her hand to hold, imagine what it would feel like to have Frankie’s arm over her shoulders and to have her fingers running through her hair.
Frankie has to be a lesbian.
And that’s fine! Britta has no problem with lesbians! If anything, she almost likes Frankie more now because of it!
She wants to let Frankie know she’s an ally, without letting Frankie know she knows, but she doesn’t know how, so she peppers in her activism a little more than usual, amps up her ferocity when she spots injustice and makes a lot of eye contact. She hopes the point comes across.
She’s on her way to sociology when she sees Frankie talking to a math professor. There was something unsettling about the openness of Frankie’s smile to a stranger that makes Britta fight against the current of students to get to an empty space by the wall so she could watch.
The professor casually brushes her hand across one of Frankie’s shoulder and something angry burns through Britta’s chest. She wants to go over, push herself in between them and take Frankie away.
Britta takes a step, intent on at least introducing herself to this- this interloper, when she visibly recoils at that train of thought. Grabbing her books tighter to her chest, Britta hurries off to class with her head tucked down.
She didn’t think she was homophobic. She can’t be. She kissed a girl for crying out loud! Maybe she just ate something funny for lunch. That had to be it. She’s just not feeling well; she might even have a fever.
She suffers through her class and plans to go home afterwards, when Annie catches her at her locker, warning her Rick’s back on campus. Despite knowing he’ll be bad for her, he’s the exact kind of distraction she needs right now.
And it works. For a little bit, and she can almost convince herself she’s happy so it’s worth it, isn’t it? Destroying the dean and threatening the school financially is worth it for the way Rick makes her forget about everything else.
Until he doesn’t, and she’s standing in front of the dean and Frankie, who has her arms crossed and making Britta hate herself a little for putting that disappointed look on her face.
“Britta, did you know your boyfriend was guerilla-marketing for Honda?”
“I just knew he represented something I wanted to buy.”
Because Rick wanted her, Rick needed her. Rick loved her and she thinks she could really actually love him. And she thinks it’s a little like heartbreak when he chose something over her, again.
Annie wraps an arm around her shoulder and rubs at her arms and she’s not sure if it’s her imagination or not that Abed and Jeff stand a little closer to her; this is love, too, she reminds herself and leans her head on Annie’s shoulder to watch Frankie play the steel-drums.
Garrett’s getting married.
Isn’t that a weird fact. Here’s something even weirder: Garrett’s getting married and they’re all invited to the wedding.
Annie’s excitement is contagious and Britta finds herself all but vibrating with anticipation for everyone to show up to pre-game. They’ve got booze in the fridge, their outfits are hanging up on the shower curtain rod in the bathroom, and various tables are set up around the apartment designed to get them ready and buzzed.
“Frankie!” Britta shouts with a grin when she busts into the apartment, garment bag hanging on her arm.
“I didn’t get ready,” Frankie says haltingly, looking around the apartment in confusion. “Like you told me to. So we can get dressed together and be girls together.”
“Good,” Annie says, jumping up from the floor where she was painting Britta’s nails and rushing to Frankie’s side with a can snagged off a side table. “Here, you take this and I’ll take that.” Annie grabs the garment bag and puts the warm can in Frankie’s hands. She twirls to the bathroom, to hang it beside theirs, and Frankie steps into the room slowly.
“This is going to be fun.” Frankie says, almost to herself, and Britta looks around to make eye contact with Abed.
She can’t help the slow, drawn out, “Yeah,” from escaping.
Frankie’s stiff. Uncomfortable in way Britta doesn’t think she ever was around other women. Of course, she grew a lot under Shirley and Annie’s attention, but sitting in the painful silence next to Frankie is unbearable. She’d been excited and adement about inviting Frankie early, thinking it would be a good opportunity to see more of her outside of school. She’d caught glimpses of the real Frankie, but wherever she is, she’s boxed down tight behind impenetrable walls today.
It’s only when the boys show up that Frankie relaxes, laughing and yelling and playing with the rest of the group, and Britta tries not to think too hard about that. It’s better to simply be drawn in to the hypnotic sound of her laughter or the way the apartment lamps catch the curls in her hair.
The morning was quite literally all fun and games until they realize they’d miscalculated the time and were hustling to get out the door. Annie runs for their outfits in the bathroom, Britta darts to the hall closet for their shoes, while the men scramble for their jackets and shout and push everyone in a million directions while attempting to herd the group towards the door. Frankie takes a half step in every direction, looking suddenly overwhelmed by the chaos she couldn’t predict, and Britta reaches out, grabbing her arm to pull her out the door.
“Do we have everyone?” Jeff asks over everyone’s excited chatter when they reach the elevator. “Grab a buddy. Is everyone accounted for?”
“We don’t have Chang!” Elroy says and Jeff groans as the elevator dings before the doors slide open.
“Okay, I’ll go grab Chang and meet you downstairs.” He looks at Britta and tosses her his keys. “Keep everyone together.”
Britta nods and pushes everyone into the elevator. She’s sandwiched between Elroy and the dean and she does a quick headcount to make sure everyone’s where they should be. Abed. They forgot Abed too. It’s not surprising he stayed behind if they left Chang, and she knows Jeff will notice Abed wasn’t with the first group, but she still makes a note to make sure he’s in a car before they leave.
She catches Frankie’s attention and gives her what Britta hopes is a calming smile. Frankie’s at ease in a storm she predicts, but this chaos? This is Britta’s turf and she feels good knowing not only is Frankie not perfect, but that Britta herself can pick up the slack.
“Dean, you’ll be with Jeff!” She orders, unlocking the Lexus. “Elroy, Annie, Frankie, with me!” Everyone scrambles to obey and she gives Elroy the keys to her old hatchback. The three women pile into the backseat and Annie’s already reaching for her dress with one hand and unbuttoning her pants with the other. Britta grabs Frankie’s dress, passes it to her and then grabs her own. Doors are shutting as Jeff runs across the parking lot with Chang and Abed following closely behind. Jeff slides into the driver’s seat and Britta taps Elroy’s shoulder.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
Getting dressed in the backseat of her car, elbow to elbow with two other people also getting dressed, in broad daylight, was more of a challenge than she’d admit, but when they’re pulling into the parking lot and rolling out of the car, they’re all dressed and after only a moment of straightening and fluffing, look presentable.
They briefly interrupt the wedding and when they finally get to their seats, Britta tries to be attentive, but her eyes keep drifting to Frankie sitting in the row in front of her. There’s a leaf stuck in her hair, a bright contrast against the black and Britta’s dying to reach forward and pluck it free. She can hardly focus on the vows and she wants to so badly take care of this one thing, but Frankie’s just out of reach.
By the time they get to the reception, the alcohol from earlier has pushed past buzzed and into drunken territory. After they’re chastised, they regroup and for the first time in a long time, Britta feels like a winner. She’s charming, likable, the right words fall from her tongue on the first try, and she dances to the beat of the music without practice. She’s at home here, in this little mad mess. The Queen of Chaos. The Princess of Pandemonium. The Heir of Havoc. The–
She bumps into someone hard from the back and she spins too quickly, causing the room to twist around her and she throws her hands out for balance.
“Whoa, Britta, are you okay?” Frankie’s hands find their way to Britta’s side and she wishes they were lower, wishes they were on her hips.
“Never better, Mark Vetter.” She grins and puts her hands overtop Frankie’s and wiggles to the beat. “Let’s dance.”
“Oh, I don’t think–” Frankie says in a half-hearted protest, but Britta’s already dragging her to the dance floor.
“I think you should relax,” Britta says over the swell of the reception. “It’s a wedding, stop thinking so hard and dance with me.”
Britta stops the protest before it begins by grabbing Frankie’s hands and putting them on her hips. She smiles and wraps her arms around Frankie’s neck. “Dance!” Britta steps closer and stares up at Frankie. She looks confused, but not uncomfortable, and Britta’s chest gets warm. Britta kind of wants to know what happens if they get even closer, if she’d just combust should they move until their chests were touching. Britta’s never been this close to Frankie and she’s surprised at the amount of details she’s missing on a daily basis. Like the fact that Frankie’s eyes aren’t just dark, they’re black, like the ocean at night. Or the little, almost unnoticeable, scar she has right under her eyebrow that Britta wants to know the story to. Or the exact shape of her lips that look like they’d be perfect for kissing. She thinks if she were to stretch, she could place one delicate kiss on Frankie’s mouth.
“Did you know you’re pretty cool?” Britta asks, leaning in to give the semblance of privacy.
“I’m not really a cool type.” Frankie says with a smile but with her brows pinched on her forehead.
“You are,” Britta insists. “You came in like a total badass and helped us and became our friend. You’re amazing.”
Now Frankie laughs and Britta bounces on her toes at the sound.
They save the wedding, have a long confusing ride home, and Britta wakes in the morning with a hangover. She thinks she might be getting a little too old to spend a night drinking and she peels a banana while resting her head against the cool surface of the table.
Abed’s already up editing video footage and when she has the energy, she stands up and goes to sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder to watch him work. He’s splicing the dancing video to create a montage and Britta stiffens at the sight of her and Frankie dancing together. At her reaction, Abed looks at her through the corner of his eyes.
“You look good together,” he says softly, carefully. “You look happy.”
She relaxes slowly against him again. Yeah, she does.
Annie and Abed are leaving.
She doesn’t know what to do with that information.
They’re leaving and will probably be back eventually, but… she’s numb. Completely and totally numb. She should be happy. She is happy. But she’s also terrified of what this means.
Britta hugs them before she leaves for work; she thinks she’ll have bruises from the grip Annie gave her, and she leaves after hugging Abed before she can get too emotional.
The group chat eats away at her cellphone battery and a knot builds in her throat when she gets a text from Jeff:
[11:44p] Jeff: heading over to get them now.
She leaves him on read and takes a few steadying breaths. The rest of the committee will be arriving within the hour and she doesn’t want to be a mess when they get here- not to mention she’s on the clock until midnight.
Chang shows up first and settles at their table. Frankie’s next followed closely by the Dean. Britta grabs their drinks and sets them down wordlessly, but before she can disappear back up to the bar, Frankie touches her arm softly.
“Yeah,” she says, because now that she’s amongst friends again the hole in her chest doesn’t feel so large. “I think so.”
Frankie smiles at her and Britta finds it easy to return.
It’s less than a month after Annie and Abed leave that Britta realizes she’s in serious trouble. She can’t afford her apartment at all without roommates and a part of her feels too sick to look for new ones.
She’s in the study room, her finances spread across the table as she tries to figure out a way to keep her home without going bankrupt when Frankie walks in.
“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Frankie says, setting her stuff down at her chair. “I’d have brought you something to drink.”
“It’s fine,” Britta says distractedly. “I just work better in here.”
Frankie hums in acknowledgement and tilts her head to look at the papers. “What are you working on?”
Shame burns through Britta’s chest and up her throat. “My- I can’t afford the apartment anymore. I’m trying to find a way to make it work.”
“Oh. Could I–” Frankie gestures at the papers. “Finance is kinda my thing.”
Britta rests her head on her arms with a sigh. “Be my guest.”
She doesn’t look up as the rustling of papers stops and Frankie hums as she looks through the documents.
“You know,” she says slowly and Britta looks up at her through her lashes. “You could always move in with me. I have a spare room and it would be a lot cheaper than this.”
Britta jerks upright and it takes her a moment to convince her brain that she heard Frankie correctly.
“You’d want me to move in with you?” She thinks about the office she remembers seeing the last time she was there; she thinks about the spare room Frankie now has and is offering up to her. She thinks about Troy and Abed giving Annie their bedroom while they move into the living room so the Dreamatorium could exist.
Color flushes Frankie’s cheeks and she looks back down at the papers. “If you want.”
“That would… that would be great, Frankie. Thanks.”
They spend the little remaining time hammering the details and when the rest of the committee shows up, both Britta and Frankie are smiling.
“I’m moving,” Britta announces once everyone’s seated. “And you’re all gonna help.” She points around the table and lingers deliberately on Jeff, who raises his hands in defeat. He doesn’t say a word, but he looks between Frankie and Britta with a knowing smile.
Britta picks the hottest day of the year to move, and Jeff doesn’t stop complaining about it. The good news is she doesn’t have very much stuff to move and it somehow only takes a fraction of the time it took to move in Annie. They’re done well before the evening and Britta buys them all pizza for dinner in thanks.
It’s loud and bustling and Britta can tell Frankie’s trying to get reacquainted to noise in her home. Britta thinks it’s sweet and more than kind of her to do this.
The silence once everyone leaves is almost deafening, but Britta’s thankful for it. At the apartment, it was almost always loud. With the exception of early mornings, someone was always making noise, but Frankie is as quiet as she is in public and Britta’s soothed by it; her brain anchors itself to the serenity and lets her think. She’s pretty sure she’ll love it here.
“Hey, Britta?” Frankie asks, knocking on the doorframe even though the door’s open. Britta looks up with a smile she hasn’t been able to shake all day.
“I was gonna have some wine out back; there’s beer in the fridge if you want to join me.” Britta’s nodding before Frankie finishes her sentence.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
Frankie’s answering smile is blinding.
Britta finishes hanging up the few shirts left on her bed, hoping that here she’ll be able to keep herself picked up and collected, before heading to the kitchen. On the bottom shelf, there’s a six-pack of her favorite beer and her stomach feels light and funny as she reaches for one.
The bottles cold and begins collecting condensation the moment she steps outside into the stifling heat leftover from the day. The wood from the patio is pleasantly warm against her barefeet and she curls her toes when she sits in the chair beside Frankie.
“Thanks,” Britta says, gesturing to the beer and Frankie smiles at her.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.” Britta can’t handle the emotions showing on Frankie’s face and she blushes, looking out into the small backyard. There are crickets chirping and fireflies flash in the grass.
She takes a sip of the beer and wonders how Frankie knew it was her favorite. She wonders if she’ll learn about her sisters, if Frankie would want to know about her brothers. She wants to know her morning routine and what time she normally goes to bed, if she uses the dishwasher or washes her dishes by hand. Stupid, unimportant things that make Frankie whole and she wants Frankie to know them about her.
She has time, she decides. She’s not going anywhere and something in her knows Frankie isn’t either. Imperceptibly, Britta tilts her bottle in salute.
