Work Text:
The agency phone Bernie with another placement for the following week; working in the Mayor’s office, covering a sickness absence. She heaves a sigh for the exciting, challenging world of trauma surgery that she has had to leave behind while she recovers from her injuries and accepts.
She arrives bright and early on Monday morning, clad in the skinny black jeans and neat shirt that she wears in place of a uniform. She gets whirled through security, has a staff photo (blinking, dazed) and a lanyard before she can pause for breath.
The mayoral office is large, shiny and open plan. She’s shown to her seat, smiles politely at the people around her.
“Fleur,” a small woman with a sparky smile introduces herself, “Technically your boss. Lets get you logged in and I’ll get you up to speed. You come very highly recommended, you know. The best on the books.”
Bernie nearly laughs. She hates admin jobs more than she can say. The only reason she is temping now is because she hates sitting around aimlessly at home even more. She joined the agency in an effort to keep her mind busy and to force herself to get out of the house to things other than her physiotherapy sessions. She might be good at it but that is because Berenice Wolfe has never given less than her all to a job and she’s not about to start now.
“Good to know,” she says to Fleur, risking a small grin.
There’s a click of heels coming down the room and Bernie looks up over her computer to see a vision striding down the office in kitten heels. Leopard print, she notes, as her eyes travel from heels to shapely thighs to a rather interesting blouse, bright red lips, sleek dark hair and ohh soft brown eyes.
An amused cough at her side brings her back to herself. “Serena!” Fleur says and the vision halts, “This is Bernie Wolfe. She’s covering Lisa. Bernie, this is Serena Campbell. The Mayor,” she adds, helpfully.
“Nice,” Bernie stutters a little, “Nice to meet you.” Serena’s hand is warm and firm in hers and Bernie has to remind herself to let go.
“Welcome to the team, Bernie.”
The job is not complicated. It mostly involves reading emails and forwarding them to the relevant places, occasionally writing out responses from a set list. It’s good, really, that it isn’t complicated, because Serena’s seat is across the desk from Bernie’s and every time she raises her head from the computer she finds herself gazing at her.
Serena and Fleur flirt. All the time.
“Are you, uh… together?” Bernie asks awkwardly when she meets Fleur in the tiny kitchen.
Fleur throws her head back and laughs. “Darling, no. It’s just how we are.” She pats Bernie’s arm sympathetically and Bernie wonders if she’s noticed the direction of Bernie’s gaze.
“Help me with these?” Fleur says to Bernie later on, staggering under the weight of piles of paper
In the past Bernie would have lifted the lot without a second thought but now she accepts only half the pile and picks them up carefully.
“This way,” Fleur nods, and they set off down the room.
The door opens at the far end and Serena comes through. God, she’s pretty, Bernie thinks. And then she walks into a pillar.
Paper tumbles out of her arms, sheets fly across the floor. “Sorry,” she mutters, and stoops awkwardly to collect them all up.
“Let me help you.” Bernie looks up into Serena’s softly amused face and blushes.
“Thanks,” she mutters.
Their fingers brush as Serena passes a load of paper to her, and she blushes again. Feels all sorts of a fool.
Bernie hates admin jobs but when the sun is slanting through the window and catching the light in Serena’s hair, making it gleam, she thinks she could do this one for ever.
She bashes off another load of emails. Nothing to this job.
“Bernie?” Bernie’s head snaps up. Serena is standing next to her, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Could I have a word?”
That has never been followed by a conversation that Bernie has enjoyed. She nods and Serena gestures to small room that she uses for confidential phone calls.
Serena closes the door behind them and Bernie waits, lead in her stomach. Serena toys with the pendant at her neck. Bernie can’t help but notice her elegant fingers, her shapely neck.
“Are you a plant?” Serena asks abruptly, and it’s so far from what Bernie was expecting that she gasps.
“What?”
“The email you sent yesterday. Somebody’s paid you to get a job here, haven’t they?”
“The… email?” Bernie couldn’t be more confused. She sent numerous emails yesterday.
“The one you sent to Ric Griffin. My rival. He’s running against me for Mayor this year.” Bernie just stares at her. Serena sighs. “You sent him all my campaign outlines.”
“I did?” Bernie is confused.
“Who told you to take this job?”
“The agency?” Bernie’s back is aching and she leans surreptitiously against the table. “They called last week and asked me if I wanted it and I said yes and… here I am.”
Serena rolls her eyes and sighs. “You’re telling me it was a mistake?”
“An honest mistake,” Bernie says. She’s going to get sacked. She’s going to miss looking at Serena all day.
Serena laughs a little chokily. “Well, we all make mistakes, I suppose.” She holds out a hand. “I’m sorry for accusing you.”
Bernie takes it. “And I’m sorry for doing it.” Her whole body tingles as they shake hands. “Truce?” she asks, risking a tiny smile.
Serena’s eyes crinkle and her face lifts as she smiles back, “Truce,” she says.
Bernie makes an effort to really concentrate on her work after that. But sometimes, in between tasks, she’ll let her gaze wander over to Serena. And sometimes she lifts her head to find that Serena’s eyes are on her, and she blushes and ducks back down again.
She gets through the rest of the week without major mishap.
“Joining us for drinks?” Fleur says as Bernie hands in her security pass on Friday afternoon.
“Oh, I don’t know...” Bernie’s plans for the evening had mostly involved bad television and a takeaway.
“Oh, go on. We all go.” Fleur’s smile is teasing. “Including Serena.”
“What’s that about me?” Serena appears behind them.
“You come for drinks.”
“It’s not Friday if there’s not Shiraz,” Serena says with a laugh. She looks at Bernie and raises an eyebrow. “Coming?”
“I’m a whisky drinker myself,” Bernie says by way of affirmation.
“Hmmm,” Serena winks, “Well, I’ll see if I can convert you.”
The bar is already crowded when they arrive. Bernie finds herself sandwiched against Serena as they wait to be served, and her body sings with awareness of her.
“I’ll buy,” Serena says, “Shiraz.”
“If I can buy you a whisky later,” Bernie counters, and for a second they stare at each other.
Serena looks away, taps short, neatly manicured nails against the bar. “You’re not back next week, are you.”
“No,” Bernie says with a sigh. Five days of staring at Serena have come to a regrettable end.
“Good.”
“Good?” Bernie says, a little stung. “Was I that bad?”
Serena huffs a laugh. “Apart from emailing Ric my confidential plans? No, not bad. I was thinking of our HR policies actually.”
“HR?” Bernie is lost. Then Serena looks up at her, and the look in her eyes fills Bernie with butterflies.
“Come with me.” Serena’s fingers find Bernie’s, twine round them, and then she’s darting away from the bar through the crowd, pulling Bernie after her. She pushes through a door and it clangs behind them. The noise of the bar is gone and it’s just the two of them standing in a quiet alley in the evening sun.
“Bernie,” Serena murmurs and Bernie realises what she’s about to do half a second before she moves, meets her half way as their lips crash together.
Serena tastes as good as she looks. Bernie pulls her tight, clasps their bodies together as her tongue flicks against Serena’s lips, explores Serena’s mouth.
“All week,” Serena says when they part for breath, “All damn week I’ve wanted to do this.”
“You too?” Bernie finally gets to stroke the silken strands of Serena’s hair.
“You have no idea how upset I was when I thought you were one of Ric’s.”
“I’m not,” Bernie assures her, drops a kiss to Serena’s lips before moving to her neck and nibbling gently. “All yours.”
Serena groans, tilts her head to give Bernie more space. “I’d like you to be.” Her hands have worked under Bernie’s shirt and Bernie’s skin is on fire where Serena’s fingers are caressing her. “I have Shiraz at home,” she says and Bernie manages a slightly strangled laugh.
“Well then, Mayor, lead on.”