Madam President

Chapter Six

"How are you not even sweating?" Rebecca demanded as she removed her mask and leaned over with one of her hands on her knee as she attempted to begin to catch her breath.

Freen shot her an apologetic smile in response as she offered her a towel.

"Because you're in that disgustingly good kind of shape where you aren't the least bit bothered by a solid half-hour of swordplay..."

Rebecca lifted a hand to stop Freen making any excuses for her and laughed, still sounding more than a little breathless.

"If you're going to apologize, don't." Rebecca continued, taking the towel from Freen's hands and pressing her face into it. "That was fun. I needed that."

Freen believed her, too. The past few weeks had been hell on Earth for her, and Freen had been there for it all.

From the moment they'd arrived back from Camp David, Rebecca had been bombarded with what seemed like a never ending stream of crisis.

But then that never really changed.

What had changed, however, was...well. Too much. For Freen, anyway.

Rebecca had discovered it was nearly always Freen that stood watch outside her door at night, and that Freen was more than happy to listen to whatever it was that Rebecca was working on far too late into the evening.

It had been gradual. And Freen had been so careful about keeping their relationship professional with a side of friendship because Rebecca needed that. She needed a relatively uninvolved confidant that she could trust.

And Freen could be that for her.

Even if, slowly but surely, Rebecca had grown on her in a way she had never intended for her to. Even in her white padded outfit with her pulled-back hair sweaty and stuck to her skin in places, she was...

"Freen? Are you alright?" Rebecca asked as she tossed her towel over her shoulder.

Freen's eyes snapped down to the bottle of water Rebecca was holding out for her. "Yes, ma'am. A little hungry, that's all."

"Ma'am?" Rebecca asked with a quirk of her brow as she snorted softly in the back of her throat. That was a sound not many people got to hear, and it made Freen smile to hear it now.

"I'm better than you at something for once and suddenly I'm back to ma'am, again?"

"No." Freen wrinkled her nose in Rebecca's direction. "And you're better than me at plenty of things. That's why you're you and I'm me."

"That's not true," Rebecca replied simply, heading for the door of the training room they'd taken up residence in without waiting for a response from Freen.

She paused, though, with her hand on the door handle. "I don't have any prior engagements for dinner, if you're hungry enough to sacrifice the rest of your evening to keep me company."

"It's not a sacrifice." Freen corrected her as she jogged over to the door and opened it so Rebecca wouldn't have to. "We're friends, remember? It'll be nice to not technically be on duty while we have dinner."

"It would be even nicer to go to a restaurant without it having to be a photo op." Rebecca lamented, and Freen gave her a sad little half-smile.

She couldn't imagine living her life under a microscope the way Rebecca did. Especially considering how private her own was.

No one knew her name. No one knew who she was. Just another suit. Another pair of glasses. Rebecca knew more about her than almost anyone at this point.

"Potstickers, right?" Rebecca asked as she turned another corner with Freen at her side as if she could read her mind right now. As if Freen needed a reminder that this woman with the weight of a nation on her shoulders still had the mental stamina left to remember her favorite food.

Or maybe she just cared.

Freen nearly rolled her eyes at herself as Rebecca made it to the door of her suite, and Freen nodded in the direction of the agent posted outside her door.

"Clear." He said without really looking in Freen's direction. "Good." She responded simply before following Rebecca inside.

Things hadn't just changed for Freen.

That 'good' certainly didn't make Rebecca feel friendly things. But who could blame her? A president couldn't just wander off in search of all the things her life was currently missing. And she couldn't exactly help that Freen was all those things. And completely. Utterly. Off-limits.

Still. It was nice to watch Freen pick up the phone and order Rebecca's current favorite from a chef who was endlessly thankful that Rebecca was easily the least demanding president he had ever served under. A pomegranate and pear salad with goat cheese.

"Pecans tonight?" Freen asked, clearly having been prompted by the chef.

"Sounds perfect," Rebecca said as she began working at the fastenings of her suit until she was finally in her undershirt and leggings.

Freen nearly forgot what she was doing for a moment in response, but managed to pull it together enough to finish their dinner order. It was more than a little unusual to see Rebecca so dressed-down, even for Freen.

But then it wasn't like she wasn't returning the favor shortly thereafter, albeit not exactly voluntarily. On the contrary, she was almost frozen while Rebecca began working on the unfamiliar fastenings and tied as soon as she'd placed the phone receiver back down.

It was an oddly tense moment. Freen knew the short, too-sharp exhale Rebecca must have heard likely didn't help any.

"You don't have to do that," Freen said with a tone in her voice Rebecca had never heard before.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rebecca said dismissively, hoping her smile didn't look too forced as her hands moved to Freen's sides to unfix the chest pad from the rest of the suit.

It was more intimate than she'd thought it would be. And for no apparent reason. Rebecca had helped any number of people with fencing attire...there was no reason this should have been any different, yet it was.

Especially when Freen's hands began to follow her own in an attempt to help, though more often than not their fingertips just kept brushing in little awkward collisions until Freen gave up and just went still.

She looked straight ahead for the most part, but Rebecca could have sworn she saw those vivid black eyes so often hidden behind aviators flash in her direction now and again.

And those looks did little to help the uncomfortable warmth she was suffocating in.

"So, what's the scar from?" Rebecca asked with a weak little laugh once she finally managed to pull the jacket from Freen's arms, leaving her in just a v-neck and sweats.

"An eagle attack." Freen hadn't meant to whisper the response as Rebecca looked at her, but she couldn't help it. Because Rebecca was really looking at her.

And she was so close Freen could feel the warmth from their fencing session still radiating off of her.

"Of course. An eagle attack." Rebecca's voice was airy as she stepped away, and the moment was finally broken.

At least Freen could breathe, again.

-

Disclaimer: Story is not mine, I only adapted it to FreenBecky Fanfic because I love this piece and I love FB. I want to see them portray the characters in this story.