AN: I can't write decent smut between two people; I'm not even going to try with three. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: Implied threesome,

Disclaimer: I don't own "Rookie Blue".

Chapter Three
Gail

Three months after moving back in with the boys-her boys-Gail Peck has had enough of all the pussy-footing around.

Gail isn't nice, she isn't friendly, she's not fun to be around. Gail is blunt and, more often than not, kind of a serious bitch. Gail is also so damn loyal that the concept of betrayal-of doing that to someone she legitimately cares about-is unfathumable. Which is why Dov's little confession and the subsequent kiss had rocked her so badly. She'd let shock throw her off her game, and had nearly lost everything because of it.

She isn't about to let it happen again. Chris and Dov may be okay with pretending that everything is fine, but boys are stupid and therefore not allowed to make those kinds of decisions on their own.

Being Gail, she addresses the problem in the most uncomfortable way possible. She fucking says it to their faces.

"I think we should have a threesome." Most people would take Chris and Dov's shocked silence and horrified faces as a reason to stop, to laugh it off and pretend it's a bad joke, to drop the subject like it's on fire. Gail uses it to keep going uninterrupted. "Because I love Chris, and Chris loves me, and Dov loves me, and I love Dov, and you two aren't fooling anyone with your 'heterosexual life-partners' gig. So we should have a threesome. And by 'have a threesome' I mean 'be a threesome'."

"Gail..." Chris trails off, like he's not sure where he was going to go with that after he'd said it. Dov's mouth is opening and closing ineffectively like a fish out of water.

"You love me? When did that happen? Where was I?"

"I laugh at your moronic jokes and let you drink from my blender." Gail says, because it's that fucking obvious, and Dov is too stupid to live but she loves him anyways. "Can we stay on point please?"

"The point of having a threesome? The three of us? This three of us?" Chris is starting to catch on; Gail figured he'd be first. He's the worst at hiding his little man-crush.

"Yes. You and me and Dov. Naked. Together. With touching."

"Who touching? You and me touching? Because that didn't work out too well last time." Dov feels compelled to point out.

"That was unsolicited you and me touching, without Chris's knowledge. Which is bad. This is you and me and Chris touching, with Chris's knowledge and hopefully active participation."

"I'm confused." Poor, sweet Chris. He's not as stupid as he looks, but he's pretty damn good at pretending he is; he's not fooling Gail for a second though. If he wants to pretend he's totally ignorant of his big, gay feelings until he's sure of Dov's big, gay feelings, fine, whatever. It's all ending in the same place. Specifically, in bed. Naked.

"Wait, what do you mean heterosexual life-partners gig? We are the heterosexiest life-partners ever."

"Dov, you and Chris want to bone. It's painfully obvious."

"Are you sure, because I'm still confused."

"You watch stare at Dov, like, nonstop at the pool. You steal Chris's shirts from me. And you both will not stop eye-fucking each other. So, let's all actually fuck, because I cannot take all the unresolved sexual tension going on in this house."

"You steal my shirts?"

"You watch me run around in my trunks?"

God, why did she have to fall for these two morons? Already tired of the conversation that's not addressing the underlying point of having it, Gail decides to expedite matters. She takes off her shirt.

Cue the staring and the silence. Being a girl is awesome. "Now, you two."

Chris and Dov exchange uncertain looks. Chris bites his lip. Dov scratches the back of his neck. They take off their damn shirts. "I'm going to kiss you now. Both of you. And then you're going to kiss each other. And then we're going to a bedroom-probably mine and Chris's because the bed is bigger-and all three of us are going to kiss and touch and screw. Any questions?"

There weren't any.

Waking up the next morning, Gail feels heavy and sore. In a good way. In a great way, actually. Chris is pressing little kisses on her shoulder and collarbone again-he never really stopped doing that after she moved back in-Dov is grinning up at her from where he's using her stomach as a pillow. It's nice, it's perfect, and Gail could get used to this.

There's a moment of awkwardness at breakfast, despite the serenity of their early morning togetherness, and Gail isn't going to put up with it. She'd made her boys lay down their cards last night, there's no sense in any of them pretending it hadn't been exactly what they'd all wanted. Her bullshit tolerance is simply too low.

So, she bends and presses a kiss to Dov's lips when she passes by his seat to grab the milk out of the fridge and runs her fingers through Chris's hair to scrape at his nape with her nails and says, "We're good together."

It's fucking true, and she's not about to let stupid male insecurities or ego or what-the-fuck-ever get in the way of that. Gail gets what she wants, she wants this, and she is determined to have it. Chris and Dov are too, they just haven't quite figured out how much yet. Which is why they need her, anyways; because they're stupid and Gail is too impatient to put up with it most of the time.

"Yeah. I guess we are." Chris looking shyly at Dov, like he's still half-afraid of rejection after what they did to each other last night. After all the cuddling this morning. But Dov smiles back, almost like he can't believe this is really happening to him. Then again, Dov's a dork, so the idea that he's managed to find himself involved with someone as incredibly awesome and attractive as her is probably hard to process. And Chris, too, obviously, with his sweet smile and those biceps. Mmm.

"So, uh...what now?"

"What what now?"

"What do we do now."

"Well, I'm going to eat this bowl of Fruit Loops, and then I'm going to get the shower."

"Oh. Yeah, but what are we...I mean, what changes?"

"I'm going to leave the door unlocked."

"Oh..." Incomprehension, at first. Dov shrugging his shoulders and not getting it. And then the widened eyes, the dopey smile, the realization. "Oh."

Yeah, her boys are really kind of dumb. But they're hers, and she loves them, god help her.

"So, uh, are we gonna, you know...tell people?" It's Dov who asks, after they've all come home from their shift and a few drinks at The Penny with the 15th.

"Do you want to tell people?" Chris, soft concern.

"Is it anybody else's goddamned business?" Gail, not so much.

"Not really and no, respectively. I just wanted to, like, make sure and stuff."

"Chris, you feeling the need to share?"

"Our private lives should be private if we want them to be. I'm in no rush to try and explain...this to anyone."

"Good. So, secret menge a tois is a go. Sweet. Everybody get naked."

Everybody does.

"Damn, Epstein. You get yourself another girl?" Jerry grins at Dov, gives a little eyebrow wiggle.

"Something like that." Dov shrugs. It isn't, after all, exactly untrue. Gail smirks, Dov does indeed have a girlfriend once again, and a boyfriend to boot. Not that Jerry need to know that little tidbit.

"Dov, in the the name of our blender bond, take me to the coffee." Gail has had just about enough of that line of questioning.

"You are not that hungover; I know this because I am not that hungover." Dov frowns at her, playful wity banter frown, not serious hurt/angry face frown. Gail has learned the difference, wished she'd have picked up on it earlier so to have avoided that whole messy break-up thing. It would have have saved a bunch of time and hurt feelings and shit.

"You're not that hungover." Chris agrees, slinging an arm over both of their shoulders. "But coffee does sound good."

"Fetch." Gail commands, and Chris obeys with a little smile. "Dov, I said 'fetch'."

"And that would matter if I was a golden retriever like Chris. But I'm not, so I don't care."

"Fine. Whatever. I can only drink one cup at a time anyway."

"I happen to think you're really good at double fisting it."

Oh. Oh, that asshole. If they're going to the double-entendre place, well, Gail can play that game too. And better.

"My gifts aren't to be squandered in the bullpen. Not all of us are shooting for a gold medal in choking."

Watching Dov open and close his mouth while he struggles to think of a comeback is hilarious. The rising flush on his cheeks is pretty adorable too. And, to be fair, he had made choking on Chris's dick look like a professional sport last night. Like, skills. She can admit to being impressed. Later though, when there won't be any awkward explaining to do.

"Gail," Chris sighs, two cups of coffee in his hands. "What did you do to Dov?"

"Nothing. Nope. Not going there." Dov breathes out in a rush, taking the lighter coffee from their boyfriend's hand before disappearing into the parade room.

"That was mine, but okay." Chris gives her a look, like this is somehow her fault.

"He started it."

The reason she hadn't really answered Dov when he'd asked about changes is because they don't need to make any, not really. The three of them have been dating for months now, they just hadn't been calling it that. So, the only change in their day-to-day are the doors they leave open instead of locked.

And all the kissing, of course. That was new. And now she can sit by either one of them and make them squirm whenever she wants. And being partnered with Dov means he can wax poetic about his newfound belief in "a love of the soul" while she rolls her eyes, affectionately, instead of being frozen in place by divided loyalties.

They still play DeathDomain together-all three of them, or just her and Dov-only now Dov knows it's okay to try and distract her with the brush of his lips and a nip of his teeth. They still share margaritas from the blender, and that's just their thing because Chris doesn't like all that fruity in his liquor, and Chris and Dov share their coffees without a second's thought. Movie marathons still end in a mess of tangled limbs, only now sometimes they're naked when the sun wakes them up.

Boy's Night Out is still a thing, and so is Peckstein's Night In, and Date Night. Only they're all really date nights now, just with different names. Because sometimes Chris comes home from The Penny to find the x-box controllers discarded on the floor next to Dov's shirt and Gail's pants, and sometimes the boys stumble home together with hickies they didn't leave with and their clothes rumpled, and sometimes Gail likes to see how far she can push her small-town boy in public before he makes them go home.

Sometimes it's the three of them, all together in the bedroom-the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, wherever they happen to be at the exact moment-or two tines of their trio in any and all combinations. And they fucking work, the way Gail was pretty sure they would, the way they had before only better.

AN: Check out the next fic in this series "Loose Lips Sink Ships (Can We Leave It Alone?)"