Hi fellow fanfic writers and Lip Service fans,

Here is part one of my "Lip Service" fanfic. I don't know whether there's much call or interest in fanfic inspired by this excellent new BBC TV show. But I'm really enjoying this dramatic offering from the good old Beeb. So much so that I've been inspired to come out of fanfic retirement and write my own Cat/Sam/Frankie fanfic.

Please let me know your thoughts because it's always nice to know what people think, good and bad. So all reviews and comments will be most appreciated.

In case you're not familiar with "Lip Service", I would recommend checking out the series on BBC iplayer – if you're in the UK. If not, someone will have no doubt have uploaded the episodes onto YouTube. There have been three episodes so far, in a season (series) consisting of six episodes.

Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this little offering.

All the best,


An Immovable Force

A Cat/Sam/Frankie Lip Service Fan Fic One Shot

Part 1

Cat's point of view

Two years. Twenty-four long months. Fifty-two arduous weeks. That's how long it had been since I had last clasped eyes on her. On Frankie Alan. Of course, I'd rather die than admit it – much least of all to Frankie – but I had felt and counted every single one of those long excruciating heartbreaking months since we'd been apart. The acknowledgment of that loss both comforted me and annoyed me in equal measures, not least because Frankie was the kind of girl I wouldn't ordinarily touch with a barge pole. She was a player. One of those girls who you instantly knew had the capacity to not just break your heart but rip it into tiny shreds and uncaringly flee the scene after being the cause of such massive destruction. But unfortunately there was something about Frankie that made me love her uncontrollably and unconditionally. There was just something about her that made me want to save her and protect her. Unlike most people, I saw beyond the cocky full-of-herself swagger. I knew there was more to her than the couldn't-care-less no-strings provocative free-spirited demeanour she liked to hide behind.

Deep down, like pretty much every single human being who ever existed in this world, Frankie wanted to be loved and cherish and needed and desired. Just like all of us she was searching for love and happiness and a place to belong. She just didn't have the backbone or the balls to admit it. But such an admission was unnecessary as far as I was concerned. You see Frankie Alan had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. And she had rocked my world from the very first moment she had unceremoniously graced it.

Frankie was a lost soul and I was her saviour. And for the longest time that had been every inch the dynamics of our relationship. Not surprisingly, she was the first girl I'd ever had a crush on. I'd always been in awe of her. From her statuesque perfectly formed frame to her devilish grin and confident persona, I'd been under Frankie's spell for what seemed like forever. In fact, I'd had a crush on Frankie Alan from the moment our paths first crossed as teenagers. And it was clearly a crush I'd never completely grown out of. Perhaps that's why I finally succumbed that one fateful day to Frankie's advances. It was as if my fantasy was finally coming true. Of course, I should have known better. Girls like Frankie Alan were a train wreck when it came to intimacy and relationships.


Me: "We can't do this Frankie. You're my best friend and I… I have a girlfriend."

Frankie: "So… you know she's not right for you, Cat. It's never going to go anywhere."

Me: "That's not your call to make, Frankie."

Frankie: "Fine. Then just tell me you don't love me and I'll leave you to get on with your domesticated slice of suburban bliss."

Me: "Frankie…"

Frankie: "Just tell me you don't love me."

Me: "You know I love you Frankie. I've always loved you."

Frankie: "Then tell me you don't want me. Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away and make it like I was never a part of your life."

Me: "Is that what you want? To cease existing in my life?"

Frankie: "You know what I want, Cat. I want you."

End of flashback

I want you. I could remember those unforgettable words as though they had been uttered only yesterday. At the time I felt like I was walking on air. Like I'd literally died and gone to heaven. I'd literally been waiting almost fifteen years to hear her utter those longed for words. But unfortunately heaven soon turned into hell and less than two months down the line fear started to creep into our relationship. On reflection, the very notion of Frankie engaging in any kind of relationship that went beyond one-night stands and week-long affairs was laughable. But there was nothing funny about Frankie bailing on our relationship without giving it a chance. In typical Frankie style, the very moment things started to get serious between us, love-em-and-leave-em Frankie got cold feet and instead of trying to work things out like mature responsible adults, decided to take flight like a frightened animal and flee thousands of miles away. To New York, no less.

And now fast-forward two years and suddenly she was back. Back in Glasgow. Back from her two-year sojourn in New York. And back in my life without so much as an e-mail or a text or a phone call. Like a Tsunami, Frankie had the audacity to breeze back into my life without fair warning. Just as I had finally found the courage to reenter the dating scene and find some kind of love and stability with Sam. Damn you Frankie, as always your timing is impeccable. I half imagined Frankie had just been biding her time across the pond, waiting for just the right moment to swoop and reenter my life.

I sighed at the absurdity and reached to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear, before taking another large sip from my almost empty wine glass. If only I'd brought a whole bottle because getting wasted on alcohol seemed like the best option given the current circumstance. We were in our local pub, partaking in a "welcome back Frankie" drinks session – or at least Jay, Frankie, Tess and Ed were. I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate this particular wander's return. It wasn't so much the fact that she'd broken my heart; I mean, I'd had two years to get over her. Or at least I thought I'd had. But no, what had put me in such a bad mood was the realisation that even after a two-year absence from my life, Frankie still had the capacity to blindside me; to knock me side ways, just by being in the same postcode – never mind the same room. And I hated that. I hated that she could still affect me; that she could still get under my skin. After the way she had treated me, she didn't deserve to even exist on my radar. But unfortunately, now that I was sitting less than three feet away from her, I not only realised that, as my heart had learned the hard way, loving Frankie was in fact the easy part. Moving on from her wasn't.

Looking at Frankie sitting opposite me now, laughing with Jay and teasing Tess, was like traveling back in time. Every now and again she'd try to catch my eye, or engage me in conversation. But I wasn't biting and I could see that she was disappointed to discover that I wasn't quite the same women she could effortlessly wrap her little finger around. It had been a long, stressful day at work and I was tired. I certainly wasn't in the mood for playing mind games with my ex girlfriend and former best friend.

I took another large gulp of wine and let bravado and curiosity – mixed with alcohol - get the better of me, as I cast a tentative glance in Frankie's direction. In two years she hadn't changed much. She was still sporting that messy just-got-out-of-bed-never-touched-by-a-hair-brush hairstyle so favoured by androgynous gay women. Her lean, slender body – clad in a plain black fitted t-shirt and fitted grey hipster skinny jeans – showcased her perfectly formed womanly assets. And even in the dim light of the pub I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes would sparkle – both with wide child-like innocence and mischief – whenever she laughed. Damn the woman. It was like Frankie Alan was my own personal kryptonite. Which of course she knew, and worse, knew how to exploit for her own personal gain.

Whilst Frankie was laughing away at Jay's filthy jokes, my mind was racing overtime with a thousand and one questions. My poor brain felt like it was on overload. What was she doing back here? Had she changed? Was she finally going to woman-up and take responsibility for her actions and try and right a few wrongs? I had spent the best part of twenty-four months hiding behind a broken heart and anger and disappointment. And I was adamant that I wasn't that person anymore. I had Sam now. Yes Sam. Good. Honest. Stable. Reliable Sam. A Detective Sergeant in the police force, Sam Murray was everything Frankie Alan wasn't. She wasn't excitingly sexy like the devil-may-care Frankie. But she was alluring, strong, dependable and insightful. And she was a great kisser; the things that woman can do with her tongue... sorry, digressing! Sam - unlike Frankie - was an open book and most definitely not a game player. No the only games Sam liked to play were confined to the bedroom (and some times the kitchen and the bathroom) but again I digress...

I gulped down the final remnants of my wine. The fact that Frankie's return had so unsettled me was somewhat disturbing. I knew part of me still loved her. But it was a love as pointless as unrequited love. You see I knew Frankie better than anyone – probably even better than she knew herself. And I'd always known, deep down, that although loving Frankie had made me feel more alive than anyone else ever had or probably ever could – even dare I say it Sam - she would always end up breaking my heart. Frankie was just that kind of girl. A heart breaker. Settling down and being in a committed monogamous relationship simply wasn't in her DNA. And yet I had missed her. Beyond words. I had missed our friendship; a friendship that had been born out of two fifteen year old girls struggling to come to terms with their sexual confusion all those years ago. Yes, I missed my friend. Desperately. Terribly. But I wasn't sure whether Frankie and I could ever regain the ties that had once held our precious friendship together like superglue. Part of me hoped we could because she'd been such a huge part of my life for more years than I cared to remember. But another part of me knew I'd be dicing with more heartbreak if we were to even attempt it. Because Frankie would always be Frankie. Tormented. Conflicted. Emotionally unbalanced. Intimacy challenged and afraid of commitment. Yes, there was no doubt about it; Sam was a far better choice for me. Who needs the Frankie Alan's of this world when you could have the likes of DS Sam Murray? After all, Sam was perfect for me – in every sense. And yet somehow I still couldn't quite shake off the feeling that Frankie and I had some unfinished business to attend to.