Gail Peck is furious.

Never mind that she had given up an evening with the season finale of Breaking Bad for tonight. Never mind that Traci had dragged her to three different boutiques last Saturday in search of the perfect dress. Never mind that she had caught Nick and Andy sucking face like teenagers in the locker room earlier today, and had to retaliate by spraying shaving cream in Andy's good boots.

She is Gail Peck. No one stands up Gail fucking Peck.

Yet here she is, standing in her entryway with her hand literally on the doorknob, staring at her mother's latest text. Nope, sorry, the handsome investor that Elaine had crowed about for the last week had canceled at the last moment. She didn't even get his name. The cab had been called and reservations had been made, and now she was out of a date.

Fuck.

Gail smashes her thumb down on the home button and tosses the phone onto the couch. Then she kicks off her heels and flops down next to it.

See, people think she's cold, that she's an ice princess, that nothing but policing, family, and maybe sex mattered to her. And mostly it's true; Chris and Nick had been outliers in that pattern, and look at how those situation had worked out. Gail is pretty sure she'd rather streak through Toronto in the dead of winter than go through that again. This asshole probably didn't even know she was a cop.

Still, it feels like the universe is flipping her off.

At that moment, her phone vibrates from its place on the couch cushion. Gail looks at it for a second before striding over, ready to rip a new one into her mother if she's texting to cheer her up.

It's from Holly.

What's up?

The strangest feeling washes over her, a sort of warm buzz that begins in her cheeks and diffuses to her stomach.

She hasn't seen or spoken to Holly since that night three days ago, when Andy had looked at her with so much sorrow and desperation when she'd confessed to sleeping with Nick. Knowing they'd actually done the deed hurt like hell, but what had been worse was the burn of betrayal of someone she trusted. Andy was supposed to be loyal and honest. She was supposed to have Gail's back.

She was supposed to be Gail's real friend.

And when Andy had stood there without a word, just taking everything she was given, Gail had glanced over her shoulder and seen Holly enter, caught sight of her as she leaned against the counter. Glasses perched on her head, hands in pockets, waiting for Gail like she'd been doing it her entire life. There was an uncharacteristic softness about her that reminded Gail of Frank and Noelle's wedding, when both of them had been tempered by alcohol and stole away to the coatroom to while away the rest of the night.

She'd made some offhand comment about lesbianism that she didn't even remember now, and Holly hadn't been offended. Instead, she had smiled, leaned in, and kissed her. Kissed her, and then slid effortlessly into an easygoing smirk before leaving Gail stupefied, wrapped in a stranger's furs and with her champagne glass hovering in midair.

God, that kiss. They haven't spoken about it since it happened. At this point Gail isn't sure it actually did.

But the moment had passed and Gail had brushed right through Andy on her way to Holly because it seemed like the right thing, the only thing, to do.

She quickly taps out a return text.

Slap me the next time my mother tries to set me up. Douchebag didn't show.

It takes Holly a full five minutes to text back.

Ouch. I can help u hide the body if u need it.

Thanks for the offer. You busy tonight?

Another ten minutes. God, was Holly typing with her tongue or something?

I might be. You have other plans?

Gail chews on her thumbnail, which is a disgusting habit but inevitably shows up when she's stressed. Which is fucking ridiculous, because this is Holly and why is she stressed just texting Holly? So much for a cop's confidence.

Dov, Chris, and Chloe are all working graveyard shift. I have TV and popcorn. And vodka. Come over?

Can't, have other plans.

Better than hanging out with me? Bitch, please.

I know. I must be out of my mind.

There's really no smartass way to reply to that, and Gail frowns in annoyance before getting back up from the couch. It doesn't mean anything, Holly being out tonight. She's about to go her bedroom to change out of her stupid, uncomfortable dress when the doorbell rings. The tinkling greeting is so unexpectedly loud in the silence that she stops dead and half-glances at the safe where her Glock resides when she's off-duty.

Well, that's fucking weird.

Gail makes her way to the entryway, opens the door- and nearly slams it shut again in shock.

Holly is standing there, like magic, one arm leaning cockily against the doorframe and the other tucked into the pocket of her coat. A bulky, knee-length coat that does nothing to take away from Holly's perfect makeup and cocky, blinding smile. Her glasses rest at the top of her head. She's dressed up and lovely and for some reason, at Gail's door.

"Hello there." Holly grins, and a pleasant flutter of nerves spreads across Gail's chest.

What the hell?

"Wait a second-" She looks down at the phone in her hand. Sent a minute ago. "Did you just text and drive?"

A look of guilt flashes over Holly's face before she raises an eyebrow. "Um, maybe? But I swear, it was a red light and the streets are practically empty. The Leafs and the Canadiens are playing tonight- every red-blooded male is probably glued to the television right now with a bowl of chips and salsa. Anyway, I wanted to get here as soon as possible and I have very good fingers, so-" Holly waves said fingers in Gail's face.

Gail stares blankly at her, running through a list of possible reactions before settling on confusion to stop herself from thinking about Holly's fingers.

"I could arrest you. Honest to God, I should."

"Ah, but then you wouldn't make it to your date, now would you?"

"A date? Who with?"

Holly lifts an eyebrow, then pulls her hands out of her pockets, gesturing down her body. It pretty much gives Gail free rein to stare, and there is so much to look at. Holly is stunning tonight, a little black dress that made her legs endless and her hips to die for, miles and miles of smooth olive skin that managed to look good even in the dingy lighting.

"Pssh, do you think I lounge around at home in these clothes? Go grab a coat, we're going to be late for dinner if you don't hurry up. I'm taking you out on that date you were promised."

Gail only gapes as Holly pushes her way inside the apartment, stunned into silence. The other woman runs a hand down the wall, nodding approvingly at the choice of décor. When Gail still hasn't moved ten seconds later, she steps in Gail's direction and waves a hand in her face.

"Hello? Look, it's almost freezing out there and as edible as you look in that dress, my stomach is going to eat itself if I don't get food in it soon. Get moving!"

It's only when Holly picks up the issue of GQ (Chris's, and Dov's when he's not looking) on the coffee table and starts flipping through it that Gail is jolted back into the real world. She closes the door with a bang and turns back around.

"H-holly!"

"Hmm?"

"What-are you fucking crazy? I'm not going on a date with you.

"Why not?"

God, Holly isn't even looking at her. She's bouncing on the bottoms of her feet, clearly impatient, and hasn't taken off her heels. Now she's abandoned the magazine and is craning her neck to look around a corner of the living room.

"Because-" Gail trips and splutters and almost bites down on her tongue. Holly pays no attention.

"Because it's stupid. And lame. I don't need your pity date, okay? I'm not some frail fucking flower that needs tending to after someone steps on me."

Holly stops her survey of Gail's apartment and turns to properly look at her for the first time since she's arrived. She takes a step forward and Gail takes a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by Holly's warm, earnest presence. But try as she might she can't tear her gaze away from Holly's, who is peering into her with nothing but confidence, and a little incredulity.

"Of course you're not."

There it is again, that look that makes Gail sure Holly knows something about her that Gail herself didn't understand. It's foreign and does weird things to her insides and Gail wants it gone right now.

Instead, she swallows hard and looks away, silent. An awkwardness permeates before Holly tilts her glasses back down her face and holds her palms up, lowering her voice.

"Hey. I just thought you needed a distraction from tonight. A friend of mine works at the new restaurant that just opened up on the bay, and I've got reservations for two. And I want you to be my plus-one this time."

Gail takes a deep breath and composes herself, running a hand through her hair and sitting down on the couch, as far as she can get from Holly. She tries to curl up in a ball before remembering that her dress is skin-tight and damn, she might have just flashed Holly.

"C'mon, you owe me."

"I'm going to miss tonight's Breaking Bad. It's the season finale."

"I'll record it for you."

"It's not the same."

Holly throws her hands up in (tolerant, she hopes) exasperation, and walks up to Gail until her legs bump the coffee table and Gail's roughly eye level with her stomach, which forces her to look up and into Holly's determined face.

"It's just two friends going out for dinner. Friends, Gail. Having a nice night without any pressure or expectations, and tomorrow you can go back to 15 and brag about what a hot date you had last night."

Gail picks at a piece of lint on the seat cushion. She's already made up her mind, but she's not going to let Holly know that. She holds up a finger.

"Just to be clear, we're not going on a date. That's not what this is. I'm not going kiss you when tonight's over and done with."

Holly rolls her eyes.

"Oh God, I think I might never recover."

Gail stops messing with her hair and glares in indignation.

"Excuse me? You should be devastated. Do you know how many people would kill-"

Holly throws back her head and laughs.

"Alright, alright, I'll be completely ruined, okay? So is that a yes?"

No.

"Fine, let me get my coat. God, are you always this pushy?"

Holly pulls out her phone, punches in a few numbers, and smiles again as Gail stalks off to the bedroom. She can't possibly see Gail smile from where she's standing in the living room, but Gail hears her call out.

"I've got the cab!"