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Bev wasted no time forcing her way in as Freddie opened the door to the motel room. It was startling, how quickly Bev was inside and removing articles of clothing. Startling, yes, but in the best way possible.

 “You texted saying you were on your way over an hour ago. I’ve been laying around in my underwear, waiting,” Freddie shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded, and watching Bev as she unbuttoned her own blouse. She was trying, but failing, to sound frustrated. Who could focus when Beverly Katz was undressing in your hotel room?

“I was caught up with work. No, I will not tell you anything. I’m sure you’ll find out on your own anyways,” She was down to her bra and pants.

“Let me guess. At least one dead body?” Freddie’s sarcasm was not returned. Bev was here on business, apparently. She was now inches from her, and carefully removing Freddie’s lace bra with one hand.

Bev shoved Freddie onto the bed with a gentle push on her shoulders, fingers slipping her underwear down until they were around her knees. Freddie moved to take them off all the way, but Bev straddled her before she could move. She removed her own bra without looking away from Freddie’s eyes.

Freddie wasn’t in love with Bev, but she was certainly in love with her body. Go slow her mind said. Well, fuck that!

“Aren’t you going to remove these?” Freddie was already working to undo Bev’s belt, but Bev grabbed both of Freddie’s wrists and pinned them to the bed beside her.

“My, you’re being uncharacteristically forceful tonight. Long day at-” Her words caught in her throat when Bev’s fingers found their mark. Freddie grabbed at the sheets, arching her back as the sensation rushed over her.

“Well, shit.” Freddie half-sighed and half-moaned.

Freddie’s eyes were closed in ecstasy, but every time they opened they met Bev’s weirdly focused stare. Jesus! Is she on a mission or something?

Fingers still worked rhythmically between Freddie’s thighs, even as Bev leaned forward, “I read your new feature on Will Graham.”

What the fuck sort of bedroom talk is this? “The FBI’s psychotic trick dog? Son-of-a-bitch thought he could threaten me and get away with it,” Freddie managed to breathe through gritted teeth, “He’ll know better next time.”

Freddie was too focused on Bev’s working hand to be concerned with the other. It was the clicking, the cold metal wrapped around her wrists, and the abrupt removal of Bev’s hand from between her legs that made Freddie snap back into reality. Bev had somehow, with the skills of an escape-artist in reverse, handcuffed Freddie’s hands behind her back. The look on Bev’s face as she got off the bed told Freddie this wasn’t meant to be kinky.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Freddie struggled to sit up, underwear still awkwardly stretched around her knees.

Bev smirked, “I believe you may have fucked enough people for one day, so I figured we could just watch TV and go to bed.” She wasn’t joking.

No one threatened Freddie Lounds. No one fucked with Freddie Lounds. But Jesus Christ, did Freddie know better than to fuck with Beverly Katz. Freddie knew nights like this could cost Bev her job, but it had been made clear that if she went down, Freddie went down with her, and in the worst way possible. If you asked Freddie why, she’d probably say it was because Bev was a woman, and there was a sort of mutual respect for both of them “living in a man’s world”, but the real reason was because Beverly Katz was really good at what she does.

Twenty-minutes later, Bev came back with burritos and beer. Well, just one. Freddie was laying on her side scowling.

“If someone found me like this, I could have you arrested.” She was just being pouty now, and she knew it. Bev rolled her eyes.

“When I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll unlock you.” Bev said in a mock-motherly tone and cracked open her beer, “but until then I’m just going to enjoy these Golden Girls reruns.” 

“Are you in love with him or something?”

“Will Graham?” Bev considered Freddie’s question, “No. I thought if I could get just one asshole off his back, he might be that much better off.”

She turned on the TV. “So, tell me if you need to use the bathroom. I’m not cruel.”