Claritin And Closed Windows (Borgen, Birgitte, F/F)

[Chanel_no5]

***Note***

So, I wrote this as self-comfort tonight because insomnia is kicking my ass and because things are not looking good for me (understatement of the year) and I needed distraction (side rant; why is it that money, which is the least important thing in life, somehow is the most important thing to actually live? No, don’t answer that, I know; greed and flawed social constructs.)  I haven’t actually watched the third season yet (don't ask), but since I’m the kind of person who always needs reassurance, I’ve watched plenty of spoilers so not to get subjected to unprepared heartbreaks (never making my Westworld mistake again), and therefore felt I knew enough to spin this little tale. It takes place in season 3, when Birgitte is starting her own political party and recruits her former sort-of nemesis Katrine. Slight adjustments made to the time of year, and I took the liberty of removing Birgitte’s British boyfriend, because seriously… *sigh* The writers had a perfect chance to give her a girlfriend in this season and they didn’t. Also, I have to admit, if there's a brunette and a blonde, I'm probably going to ship it. 

Spoiler

 

 

As I said, I wrote this for self-comfort in between trying to work on other projects, and mostly decided to post it because it’s been forever since I posted anything F/F, and I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m going straight or anything, during Pride month and all!   🏳️‍🌈 

In this, there’s allergic Birgitte (of course ) and semi-caretaking, secretly crushing Katrine.  

 

***

Katrine has been watching her from the corner of her eye the past five minutes, and the fact that Birgitte hasn’t noticed and called her out on it is a definite tell that something’s really bothering her.

Bothering her nose, to be more specific.

Katrine was TV1’s star reporter for several years and she has interviewed Birgitte many times when was the Prime Minister, but while Katrine usually could see right through and push her interviewees to give answers they didn’t want to give, she has only managed to do so with Birgitte once, and that was before she even became Prime Minister. Birgitte has always been a step – no, wait a second, Katrine isn’t willing to go that far, half a step – ahead of Katrine. She’d have to be very distracted not to notice that she’s being observed.

“Oh God,” Birgitte mutters under her breath, scrubbing her knuckles underneath her nose much harder than she has these past five minutes, but clearly making the situation even more desperate. “huhh… ehh-NGTshk!” She almost pushes the sneeze into her hand rather than simply covering, then immediately gets up and heads for the bathroom, sniffling wetly.

Katrine hears her blow her nose. You could argue that a nose blow sounds like a nose blow, but Katrine is skilled at noticing nuances, that’s what makes her so good at her job, and she would argue that it’s a very itchy-sounding nose blow. It doesn’t sound like Birgitte is trying to clear her nose of mucus, but of a persistent itch.

A theory that Birgitte unwittingly confirms when she sneezes again, mid-blow, and sounds even itchier afterwards. It doesn’t seem like any of her actions, voluntary or involuntary, is doing much to appease that itch.

“HeNKtt-ssh! Oh, ugh… huh-nXTchoo!”

Katrine has seen Birgitte sneeze at some point during her eight years of holding the highest office of the country, sure. Admirably in control as Birgitte is, even she caught a cold or two, and given her firm stance of never cancelling a press conference, there had been a couple of those that the then-Prime Minister had coughed and sneezed herself through, voice barely above a hoarse whisper. She hated not being in control, but she hated going back on promises even more.

But if Birgitte has a cold right now, it certainly came on suddenly.

“You okay?” Katrine calls out.

“Fine. Huh-eSCHuh! ESCHoo! AhISSHHoo!”

“That doesn’t sound fine to me,” Katrine replies and gets up from her chair, walking towards the bathroom. Birgitte hasn’t locked the door behind her; in her rush she hasn’t even fully closed it, and Katrine gingerly pushes it open.

She sees Birgitte’s reflection in the mirror rather than seeing her straight on, and has time to think it can’t have gotten that bad that fast, the lights above the mirror in here must be playing tricks on her eyes somehow, but then Birgitte turns to look at her, and it’s not the lights. Her blue eyes are filled with tears and lined with red, and her slender, regal nose is flushed with shades of crimson and her nostrils quiver in response to the irritation inside.

Tears spill over, smudging some of her light makeup, as her eyes narrow. Her shapely nostrils flare, her lips part to allow her a couple of gasping breaths before she sneezes again, this time catching the spray into a balled-up wad of paper towels.

“Hehhh… empTSChuh! NkTSHugh! Just stop already,” she groans into the now considerably wetter paper and blows her nose again, finishing with a slow, upward swipe. She gives Katrine a tired smile. “I am fine, really. I’m not contagious or anything either, just allergic.”

Katrine makes a gesture meant to encompass the entire building. They’ve turned an old storage building into a neat party headquarters, but the renovation was done a while ago and there shouldn’t be any dust or even paint fumes left that could set her off.

“To what? Desks and paperclips?”

Birgitte laughs. Even her laugh sounds watery, and strangely breathy, as if it might transform into a sneeze at any moment.

She shakes her head, pointing towards the window at the far end of the room. It’s slightly ajar, but it has been since this morning – in fact, it was Birgitte who opened it – and until now she hasn’t seemed bothered at all by whatever pollen comes in with the high summer breeze.

Katrine looks puzzled, she can feel it on her face, and Birgitte chuckles again before she leans into her sad wad of paper towels and releases a quick, sharp triple into it, rubs her glowing red nostrils with it, and throws the paper towels in the trash.

“Figure it out, Katrine,” she says, not unkindly, and goes to shut the window.

Katrine tries to focus her senses on anything but her allergic boss/colleague, and when she trains her ears to hear anything besides the sniffling and tiny moans that escape Birgitte, she realises that she can hear a lawn mower. But not close by. And when she takes a deep breath, she also realises that she can feel the scent of the cut grass, though only as a faint, distant addition to the summer fragrances already entering the room through the open window and mixing with their perfumes (Katrine’s light and flowery, Birgitte’s a richer, earthier note) and the general dry office smell.

“Cut grass,” she says just as the other woman reaches the window. Birgitte gets another punch in the nose by the grass scent and sneezes several rapid, tickly sneezes against her wrist while raising the other hand as a gesture to let Katrine know she nailed it. Then she lowers her hand again and cups both of them over her misbehaving nose, sneezing over and over.

Katrine walks up to her, gently pushes her aside, and closes the window for her. Birgitte is still caught in a miserable, relentless allergy attack that seems to have no end in sight. She can do nothing but to give in to her dominant nose’s demands.

Katrine knows Birgitte is allergic to spring pollen, it’s common knowledge to any media representative who covered the Prime Minister in the springtime of those eight years, because she would avoid doing interviews or speeches outside for that reason. But Katrine never saw her have an actual allergy attack. Never. And cut grass… Katrine didn't even know that you could be allergic to that. She comes from a small countryside family farm and has helped carrying more hay than she can tell, and the aroma from haymaking out on the fields is one of her favourite childhood memories.

Well, now she knows people can be allergic to that sweet scent too. 

“Imagine the satire cartoonists seeing this,” Birgitte chokes out, and Katrine laughs. Birgitte’s time as head of government brought on the greatest changes in environmental protection in Danish history. Possibly world history. The corporate world was furious with her green taxes and legislations. The idea that nature messes up its fiercest front soldier is an irony that satire would pounce on.

Katrine isn’t a journalist anymore (her current title is media advisor and chief of press), and she never was a satire cartoonist, but her agile mind immediately concocts one of those cartoons. It’s shows Birgitte snorting a line of pollen as if it were cocaine, with the predictable result. Political satire cartoonists love it when politicians have specific, prominent features, and Birgitte’s nose is that one signifying feature they zoned in on as ‘hers’. It would make for a rather amusing cartoon, honestly, but Katrine feels too sorry for Birgitte to find it very funny.

Birgitte, however, seems to have a similar image in her mind, and she does find it funny.

“They definitely love my nose,” she chuckles and sneezes again. “How delighted they’d be if they could m-make satihhh… ahhyiSSSHew! Satire directly related to it.”

Katrine doesn’t know what to respond to that. Certainly not by telling her of that imagery popping up in her own head.

“Do you have any allergy meds?” she eventually asks. At this point she’s starting to get a bit concerned, because the other woman’s sneezes sound more and more desperate and uncontrollable.

“Maybe in my purse,” Birgitte replies breathlessly, both hands still cupped over the fantastic nose that cartoonists have made so much fun of over the years. Katrine thinks her nose is gorgeous, but that doesn’t say a lot, she thinks Birgitte is gorgeous altogether.

“Well, go check. At least get away from the window, whatever you do,” Katrine sighs and shakes her head, and while her voice sounds a bit annoyed, that’s only because she’s both concerned and a bit… besotted.

Yes, that is the right word, but she has no idea why she’d feel that way. She knows Birgitte is both strong and independent, and she’s the same way herself. She doesn’t have a wish to be either emotional or take care of anyone, yet the idea of fussing over someone like Birgitte…

No, not ‘someone like’ Birgitte. The idea of fussing over Birgitte. That is a very appealing idea.

“Shit,” Birgitte mutters, and Katrine blinks, returning to the present.

“No such luck, huh?” she asks, hurries over to her desk and grabs her own purse. “I’ll go pick up some. What kind do you take?”

“At th-this point, it d-doesn’t mahh.. matter,” Birgitte says, her words coming out carried on hitching breaths. The corners of her mouth are drawn back in a helpless pre-sneeze snarl, her nostrils flaring and twitching, glittering tears clinging to her eyelashes and quietly dripping down her cheeks. “Anything t-that sa-hehh.. says antihihh-istamine. EeeIISSHHoo! ISSCHoo! Huh-ESSHEW! IDSCHuhh-ahh!  Oh G-gohhd… ghhuhAASSHHoo!”

A worry line appears between Katrine’s eyebrows.

“Is that going to be enough?” She’s not sure herself what she means by that, but she assumes she’s trying to ask if Birgitte needs to see a doctor.

“Yeah. It’s only hayfever, Katrine.”

‘Only hayfever’, she says, Katrine thinks with a mental eye roll, knowing she would try to tone it down just like that if the roles were reversed.

“Okay. Do you…” need tissues, she means to continue, but cuts herself off. Of course she does. “I’ll be right back.”

Birgitte nods. She can’t reply with words, as she’s already in the middle of yet another torturous buildup, hitching and sniffling desperately. Tears mixed with makeup stream freely down her cheeks as she’s focused on trying to wipe away the moisture escaping her irritated, reddened nostrils instead.

It looks like a lost cause, and it dawns on Katrine that Birgitte probably wants her gone right now, at least wants her to not look straight at her. So she turns on her heel and walks off, leaving the former Prime Minister alone in the throes of her allergic meltdown.

How come she’s never seen this before? An allergic reaction that severe from just a whiff of freshly cut grass? Well, the obvious answer is a combination of timing and medication.

Katrine wonders if Birgitte gets fits like this in the mornings of allergy season… and for some reason, she also wonders what it would be like to hold her if she does.

Oh, but she knows the reason. It’s the same reason that part of her feels a bit warm and fuzzy about the prospect of doing something to care for Birgitte. And that has absolutely nothing to do with her respect for her personally or professionally, or even her budding friendship with her. It’s actually very simple. Katrine has a crush on Birgitte, and if she’s not careful, that’s going to be obvious soon.

She sends a text to her ex, who is also the one person who knows Birgitte probably better than anyone, having been her spin doctor and closest confidante for many years before she left politics.

Hey Kasper, got an errand you could help with.

Less than a minute later, he replies.

Anything for you, Katrine.

She smiles. They have somehow, after everything they’ve been through, managed to remain friends. Maybe best friends, even.

If I say Birgitte and lawnmowing, what do you suggest?

Claritin and closed windows. And no public appearances.

Claritin. Good to know.

Thanks.

And hold off on the flowers for your next date.

Fuck you, Kasper.

You’re an open book to me, Katrine.

She can really hear his playful tone through the text, and it makes her want to laugh and throw her phone in the pavement simultaneously.

Are you saying I have a crush on my boss?

No.

A pause as he’s typing a longer reply.

I’m saying you have a crush on Birgitte. That’s different. Now get her that Claritin. Cut grass really takes a toll on her.

That is unnecessary information, though. She has already witnessed that first-hand.

Thanks. And I don’t! have a crush on her!!!

But even as she types them, she knows those are words she’s going to have to take back. And Kasper knows it too, because his only response is a series of grinning and winking emojis.

Katrine fires off an eye-rolling emoji, pleased to at least get the final word for the time being, and begins to jog towards the nearest convenience store. 

 

Edited June 26, 2019 by Chanel_no5

[starpollen]

Oooohh delicious!! 

 

(Completely off topic... what happened to our cool emojis?  Like the drooling one, or the exploding one?... I can’t seem to make any of them appear...)

[Dusty15]

Ahhh lovely as always! I ADORE your fics about Brigitte!!

[Chanel_no5]

On ‎6‎/‎26‎/‎2019 at 1:20 PM, starpollen said:

Oooohh delicious!! 

 

(Completely off topic... what happened to our cool emojis?  Like the drooling one, or the exploding one?... I can’t seem to make any of them appear...)

Thank you, sweetie!   Hmmm... you mean these:     I found them in their usual hiding spot. 

On ‎6‎/‎27‎/‎2019 at 5:14 AM, Dusty15 said:

Ahhh lovely as always! I ADORE your fics about Brigitte!!

Thank you m'dear!   That's good, since I adore Birgitte, so there'll probably be more of her in the future...