Prompt: Frankie/Cat - when we were kids - T or lower – friendship/romance

"I used to get this great view down your shirt."

"We used to wear skirts, too, remember? It worked both ways."

When Frankie first saw Cat, she was fourteen and sat up on her perch on the stairwell banister waiting for a teacher to yell at her or the bell to sound so she could enjoy the view for a bit before slipping out to bunk off the rest of her classes to go out for a pint with some of her mates. Cat had been jostled by some of the other students and dropped her books (she's always been so clumsy), and Frankie had gotten a nice view down her top (twice), and could've gotten an even nicer one of her arse if Cat hadn't been so proper with how she wore her uniform. Always the gentleman, Frankie of course had hopped down and muscled a few ignorant students out of the way, snatching up Cat's papers before they could be trampled beneath the feet of their peers. Cat had sent her a grateful smile, still brilliant even though her eyes were red and her voice tight when she said,
"Thanks," and accepted the papers from Frankie's hands.

"Are you okay?" Frankie asked automatically. Cat started to nod, her smile forced, but then stopped and sighed. Acting without thinking (naturally), Frankie slipped her bag over her head and grabbed Cat's hand, pulling her through the rapidly emptying hallways.

"What are you doing?" Cat protested, even though she made no move to pull her hand away. "I have class."

"Fuck class," Frankie responded immediately, leading Cat up a flight of stairs then down the hall to an abandoned classroom. "You need a fag." Frankie shut and locked the door, letting go of Cat's hand and crossing the room to open a window.

"I don't smoke," Cat informed her, tucking her hair behind her ear. Frankie fished her cigarette's out of her pocket and in one smooth motion tapped a few out and grabbed one with her lips. She could feel Cat watching. Frankie smirked slightly and held the pack out to Cat, flicking her lighter on with her free hand. Cat stared at it.

"Go on," Frankie urged through a drag, backing up to lean against the chalkboard. Another few seconds passed before Cat sighed and closed the distance between them.

"Okay," Cat said, plucking out a fag. Frankie lit it for her with a charming smile and dropped both pack and lighter back into her bag. Frankie watched as Cat stared at the fag before taking a drag and immediately start to cough her lungs up. Frankie chuckled quietly and clapped her on the back a few times.

"I'm Frankie," she said when Cat finally settled down and gave her an odd look. "Francesca," the blonde clarified with an eyeroll.

"Cat," the brunette choked out, wiping tears off her cheeks and taking a smaller toke. Her face distorted slightly, but she didn't cough again.

"How d'you feel about taking a personal day?" Frankie asked eventually, after Cat had finished her fag and she was itching for a third.

"What, you mean today? I can't do that."

"Why not?" Frankie countered instantly. "You're obviously having a shite day, so you should just come out and have a pint."

"I can't, I have cla-"

"Class will still be there tomorrow."

"How would we even get in?" Cat asked, trying to change her tactic. Frankie threw that charming smile at her again.

"I've got my ways," Frankie responded mischievously, a glint in her eyes that Cat was never able to refuse. Not then, anyway. "Come on." Frankie grabbed Cat's hand again, like it was a completely normal thing to do, and led her out of the room, back downstairs and out a side door Cat hadn't even known existed that led into the courtyard, then through a gap in two of the buildings out to the street. Frankie expertly navigated the streets of Glasgow, tugging a now willing Cat behind her, the two of them giggling like the schoolgirls they were.

Outside the pub, Frankie pulled them to a stop and glanced through the window where a few boys who looked far too old for Frankie to be associating with were piled in a booth in the corner, the crest on their sweaters matching the one on Cat's vest (Frankie's was sticking haphazardly out of her bag). The blonde turned to her and gave her a once over. Cat blushed. Frankie lifted her hands and loosened Cat's tie.

"What are you doing?" the brunette asked again, pushing Frankie's hands away. Frankie rolled her eyes and almost scoffed.

"Relax," she told Cat, undoing some of the buttons on her shirt, then un-tucking it and reaching under to fold the hem of Cat's skirt until it stopped mid-thigh (still longer than Frankie wore hers, Cat noticed). Her hands were cold against the hot flesh of Cat's stomach. Frankie smirked. "There. Much better." Cat's cheeks only grew redder. "Right. Ready for a pint then?" Cat nodded and followed Frankie through the door, trying to mime the confidence that was rolling off Frankie in waves.

"Oi! Frankie!" one of the lads called when they walked in, waving the two of them over. The boys shifted around, leaving just enough room for Frankie and Cat to squeeze onto the seat. Their bodies were tightly pressed together. "'o's yer bird then, Frank?" the same lad asked and pushed a pint towards Frankie.

"Cat," the blonde answered. She slid her pint over to her left a few inches, in front of Cat, and stood up. Cat watched as Frankie sauntered (sauntered, not walked) over to the bar with a sway to her hips and a smirk on her lips. Frankie flirted shamelessly with the bartender, her lips curled seductively, batting her eyelashes and leaning forward on the bar.

"Right good lookin' thing, in't she?" one of the boys said. Cat blushed, embarrassed at having been caught staring at Frankie's arse and legs. "Oi, relax, yeah? We don't give two fucks 'bout who you find fit." Cat was about to say that she didn't find Frankie fit when the blonde returned to the table, squeezing Cat between her and the boy she'd been talking to and jostling her playfully with her shoulder.

"Go on then," Frankie urged. "Drink up."

So Cat had, and Frankie had tried not to stare, and Cat had tried to ignore their bare thighs touching beneath the table.

"So, what was wrong earlier?" Frankie asked later, once they'd left and Frankie had decided to walk Cat to the bus stop, at least. Cat had blinked and then frowned, and found that she honestly couldn't remember.

When Frankie first kissed Cat, she was fifteen and they were best friends, and she'd persuaded Cat to wait for her after class so she could have someone to walk home with (but she really just wanted Cat's company for another twenty minutes).

"Give us a fag, then?" Cat asked when Frankie emerged from the building and lit up, setting off down the street at a leisurely pace.

"Say please," Frankie teased, holding the pack above her head when Cat reached for it. Cat pouted, and Frankie relented before Cat had even gotten the whole word out of her mouth.

"I want to take your picture," Frankie said bluntly after a few minutes had passed. Her fingers had itched to tangle around Cat's.

"What?" Cat asked, looking a bit put off by the idea. "What for?" Frankie shrugged and tossed her cigarette butt into the street.

"You're leaving soon. Just want a couple pictures to remember you by," Frankie explained. It was partly true.

"It's not like you won't see me again," Cat told her. Frankie lifted her shoulders again. "Okay then. Direct me." Frankie clumsily tried to pull her camera out of her bag without stopping, but ended up having to anyway when several of her pens fell onto the ground.

"Just stand there and be..." Frankie fumbled for a second, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "I don't know. You." Cat laughed, then grinned broadly and held up two fingers. Frankie shot, Cat posed, all the while laughing and smiling. Frankie reached out and pushed Cat's hair out of her face, then cupped her cheek. Cat kept smiling, although it faded slightly when Frankie ran her thumb along the line of her cheekbone. Frankie's camera was the only thing separating them. Frankie dropped her hand first and looked away with her teeth digging into her lip. Cat cleared her throat and played with the tips of Frankie's fingers.

"Got your shot then?" she asked when the silence was growing uncomfortable. Frankie nodded, then nodded again and tucked her camera safely away in her bag as rain clouds began to form in the distance.

"Yeah, I think I did." Cat smiled gently and started walking down the street again. Frankie watched.

"Cat!" Frankie called, her feet feeling like they were cemented to the pavement. Cat twirled around, surprisingly graceful for someone so naturally clumsy. Frankie's hand tightened around the strap of her bag, her lip hurting from how harshly her teeth were worrying it.

With her heart in her ears, Frankie pulled Cat into an alley and gently kissed her against the wall, with her jumper bunched up between Cat's fingers and her hands cupping Cat's face. It was the most tender kiss of her life. She never forgot it.

When Frankie first slept with Cat, she was almost seventeen and had been kicked out of her house for smoking in her room for the umpteenth time, and she trudged through Glasgow in the pouring rain to stand on Cat's doorstep and ring the bell until the door was answered.

"Frankie, what the hell are you doing?" Cat asked in a loud whisper, tugging Frankie into the house by the front of her collar anyway. "Jesus, you're soaked."

"Yeah, well. It's raining." Cat gave her a look. "Hi, Cat."

"What are you doing here?"

"Three guesses." Cat rolled her eyes.

"Come on, then. You need dry clothes."

Frankie felt Cat watching her as she changed with her back to the bed. She smirked and pulled a shirt that Cat had stolen from Ed's room over her head (Cat's were all too small to fit her right).

"Like what you see?" she asked teasingly, pushing her clothes into a pile on the floor and trying not to shiver in her remarkably still dry knickers.

"Maybe I do," Cat answered, her voice so low that Frankie barely heard her. "Get in, then." Frankie complied, but pushed Cat into the mattress instead, giving her a quick kiss and a silly grin. Cat grabbed the back of her neck and kept her from pulling away, kissing her harder.

It was the best night of her life.

When Frankie fell in love with Cat, she was eighteen and Cat had found herself a girlfriend at her university. The kisses and tender caresses and late night rendezvous in the park between their houses came to a screeching halt. She was sharing a rare moment alone with Cat when the brunette smile and laughed at something she said, and Frankie suddenly realized what she was feeling.

It terrified her.