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doomsday-dj · 2 days

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This Pulse Against Other Rhythms Rizzoli & Isles Rating: M (not this chapter but eventually--possibly even E) Chapters: 1/? Post-Series Finale fic, or: here's what I think happened in Paris. Click through to AO3 if you want to see tags and notes, but no archive warnings apply.

~~~~~

Truthfully, Jane wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting, but she knew it wasn’t this.

The decision to delay her start at Quantico and tag along on Maura’s month-long trip to Paris was one that could have been mildly described as impulsive. A more accurate assessment would've been drunken. Other words that fit the bill: ‘reckless,’ ‘inconsiderate,’ ‘technically credit card fraud.’

Jane had broken out in a cold sweat when she awoke the next morning and found an itinerary for a round trip ticket from Logan to Charles de Gaulle waiting in her email.

After checking that tickets purchased with frequent flyer miles were refundable, she called the airline to do just that. When the customer service representative informed her that both the purchase and refund of the ticket would be reflected on Maura’s next statement, Jane realized that the only thing worse than buying herself a surprise first class ticket with her best friend’s miles would be buying and refunding a surprise first class ticket with her best friend’s miles.

So now Jane was in Paris with Maura.

And it was…fine.

Maura had seemed excited when Jane first told her, if a little shell-shocked. Animated was an apt word, but when Jane really thought about it, she could recall how Maura’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and that the energy of the moment was a little more frantic than euphoric.

If she were being entirely honest, Jane didn’t need the powers of retrospect to correctly identify that the moment in Maura’s bedroom had been a foreboding one. Even at the time, Jane knew that Maura wasn’t entirely thrilled and Jane hadn’t been either. They hadn’t even hugged about it, just sat stiffly side by side and had a strained conversation about wearing sweatpants in the city of light. But what were they supposed to do? If either of them had been brave enough to declare that the trip was a bad idea, that would have been it: friendship terminated. It would’ve been an admission of what had been simmering for at least a couple years and a betrayal of how they’d decided to deal with it, which was to let their relationship die a slow, strangled death, with neither willing to just take it out back and shoot it.

So, again: Paris.

Jane had been to Paris once before. She went after graduation, before the police academy, alone.

During high school, when she was still entertaining the possibility that she, the first born daughter of a mediocre plumber, could attend Boston College University, she’d spent any free time that wasn’t dedicated to sports or school at a variety of part-time jobs. In the summer she often had two or three. At the end of her four years, Jane had saved enough money that if she’d gotten one of the more robust financial aid packages available she might have even been able to attend.

She didn’t. And so she didn’t.

No matter how many times she did the math, attending BCU meant financial ruin, either for her parents or for herself. Jane was certain her parents would have re-mortgaged the house to send her there, or she could have also availed herself of a predatory student loan that she would have been paying for the rest of her natural born life. Neither option appealed.

The police academy, meanwhile, was a one-time expense of three grand plus the eternal cost of suffering her mother’s demonstrative dismay. She set aside the majority of her remaining savings to fund moving out of her parents’ house but decided that she deserved something for all her hard work, and booked herself a trip to Paris as a graduation present.

No one she knew could afford to go with her and she couldn’t justify paying someone else’s way, plus who could she really have gone with? Casey had been preparing to enlist right after graduation and she truthfully never had many close friends besides him. Not until Maura.

So alone she went. She stayed in a hostel, made friends enough with the other girls in the dorm room that she was invited out a few times in the evenings, but the days she spent mostly by herself. She tried to fit in as much of Paris: The Greatest Hits as she could, visiting the Louvre, Notre Dame, Musée d'Orsay, and the Père Lachaise Cemetery. Despite only having five days, she devoted all of one to visiting Versailles. She skipped the top of the Eiffel Tower but toured the Catacombs before anything else.

It was a nice trip, if a lonely one. A fleeting glimpse of what the world had to offer for a blue collar kid. Now, despite her reservations about traveling with Maura for a month after their relationship had grown strained, she was still excited to see the city again and have someone to share it with.

Except she didn’t have that, not really.

Or not anymore.

The first few days had actually been wonderful, despite the rocky start. The cab ride to Logan had been tense and awkward and Jane even briefly considered doing an emergency roll out of a moving vehicle while shouting that she’d catch up with Maura when she got back. Her plan had been thwarted by little else than the doubt that she was still physically capable of doing it. They barely spoke all through check-in and boarding but everything changed after take off.

Jane hated flying. Maura had seen Jane grit her way through a flight before but this one was even worse, because Jane especially hated flying over an ocean. At least while flying to LA she was able to convince herself that if something went wrong they could do an emergency landing somewhere, but all she could think about after the few short minutes it took for them to be over the Atlantic was the various ways in which they could die: on impact, while adrift in the ocean, etcetera. So scared was Jane that she didn’t even have the strength to fake confidence and the vulnerability of her fear shifted something between her and Maura. Jane was pathetic enough that it disarmed Maura and Jane was scared enough that she let Maura back in. Maura took Jane’s hand, squeezed it firmly through every bounce and rumble of turbulence, and made sure the other always held a glass of champagne.

By the time they landed in Paris, it was nearly like old times. Something had broken back open, they’d reacquired their rhythm. Both more than a little inebriated, they managed to keep their composure through customs and were soon pouring themselves into the sleek sedan of the airport car service that Maura had pre-arranged.

Jane sat with her body turned away from her window for the entire drive, caught off guard by her own delight in watching Maura take in the city from the other side of the car.

When they arrived at their accommodations, there was more champagne—a chilled bottle waited for them, a welcome gift from the rental company. Jane popped the cork theatrically and for the first time in a long time, they talked about things that weren’t work or family. Jane told Maura about her first time in Paris and Maura regaled Jane with stories of boarding school in France, some funny and some so lonely they would have broken Jane’s heart once. They might have still, if Maura hadn’t seemed so secure in who she was now. Jane jokingly asked if the stereotypes about boarding school were true and Maura bashfully declined a real answer, saying only that they were true for some.

Around 9pm, Maura looked at her watch and declared, slurring only slightly, that they’d stayed up long enough to avoid jet lag. The apartment that Maura had booked only had one bedroom but it did have a small study with its own door. While there was currently nothing in there that Jane could sleep on, Maura had already ordered a folding bed to be delivered and it was due to arrive the next day. For that night, they both tumbled onto the queen mattress in the bedroom, struck silent as they admired each other with sleepy, half-drunk eyes. They were on their sides, facing each other, their hands resting in the space between them. Maura’s pinky finger brushed gently against Jane’s. The moment was loaded but Jane wasn’t sure with what.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Maura said, and she seemed almost surprised by it.

“I am too,” Jane hummed drowsily. The last thing she felt was Maura's fingers twining with her own.

The next two days were a whirlwind. Assembling the bed took far longer than it should have for a certified genius and the offspring of a manual labourer, but they figured it out. Maura even offered to sleep on it so that Jane wouldn’t have to get up early to accommodate Maura’s morning writing sessions, but Jane scoffed at the notion. Instead, Maura would wake Jane and Jane would pad sleepily to the bedroom to further doze in Maura’s bed there. In Boston, Jane always had trouble falling back asleep once woken, but somehow she drifted away easily under this new arrangement. Maybe it was Maura’s new perfume lightly scenting the pillows. Perhaps it was the lack of murders.

After the ordeal of the bed and a trip to acquire groceries and other necessities, they explored their surrounding neighbourhood, which, Jane noted out loud, had a surprising amount of rainbows. Maura noticeably hesitated before she explained that it was Paris’s gay district, Le Marais. Maura made a vague gesture, like it was a coincidence, but there had already been a few bread crumbs to this effect in their friendship and lately, it was getting to be more like bread chunks. Jane reacted with the kind of enthusiasm she hoped would indicate support and Maura changed the subject, launching into a history lesson about the storming of the Bastille as she led the way to the column that marked its site.

On their third night, Jane offhandedly suggested attending a show, throwing out Moulin Rouge and Crazy Horse as options. Maura made a face and asserted that those were just tourist cash grabs and promised to take Jane to a more authentic Parisian cabaret. They ended up at a jazz bar in the Latin Quarter called Aux Trois Mailletz. After dinner and a few cocktails upstairs, they descended the steps into a small thirteenth century cellar. The stone-lined room had a raised stage with a long table that extended out from it. Jane was surprised at the small size of the stage, given that Maura had described the show as quite lively, but once the singing began and the performers repurposed the narrow table as a runway, Jane was sold.

The entire show was obviously in French and there was considerable banter between songs, but the energy of the singers and the crowd was such that Jane got swept up into it even without the aid of Maura’s occasional translations. Of course, she didn’t exactly mind when Maura leaned heavy into Jane’s shoulder, grinning as she shouted explanations over the din.

The night ended with all the performers and most of the audience performing a rousing rendition of Edith Piaf’s “Non, je ne regrette rien.” Maura sang along as well, loud enough that it seemed like she was trying to account for both of them, and Jane’s heart was full to the brim with the reminder of how that was not one of Maura’s many talents. Jane watched, making no effort to hide her infatuation. Maura blushed fiercely but only sang louder.

The show hadn’t even begun until after eleven at night so it was well past two in the morning by the time they stumbled back out into the streets of Paris. Drenched in sweat from both the enthusiastic show and cramped quarters, they walked home slowly in the cool summer night.

Taking the simplest route from point A to point B, it was barely a fifteen minute walk to the apartment Maura had rented in the 4th arrondissement, but they dragged it out by strolling around the Île de la Cité, nearly abandoned so late at night. When they paused outside of the Saint-Chapelle, Maura spoke breathlessly and at length about the interior of the gothic chapel. She promised to book them tickets to see the inside of it, swore to Jane that it was much more beautiful than nearby Notre Dame. The moon wasn’t quite full but it was still very bright; Maura’s eyes sparkled as she talked about the stained glass windows and Jane had a hard time believing she’d see anything prettier.

Eventually, Maura shifted her attention away from the facade of the church, giving it fully to Jane, and there was the softest intake of breath when their eyes locked.

Intellectually, Jane understood that she must have actively moved closer to Maura, but it truly felt like their bodies were simply drifting together without any effort on her part.

The moment was loaded and Jane was starting to understand with what.

She took Maura by the wrist, pressing her thumb against a thundering pulse. Jane’s lips were parting to speak and she was really looking forward to finding out what she had to say because she truly had no idea. Maura’s shining eyes widened.

The never-welcome sound of loud men shattered the moment and Jane’s self-preservation instincts kicked into gear. She tensed up and released Maura’s hand, took a long backwards stride away from her, dropped her hand to a gunless waist.

The source of the noise quickly came into view. It was a group of drunken revelers in Paris Saint-Germain jerseys and Jane exhaled slowly as they passed them by, paying the women no mind.

When Jane turned back to Maura, she was looking out over the Seine. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her body and she avoided Jane’s eyes as she complained of the cold. They walked home mostly in silence.

Jane wondered if the acute sense of loss she was experiencing was a shared feeling, or if perhaps one of them felt like they’d dodged a bullet.

The next day, everything very obviously changed. Maura politely explained the new schedule: she would write in the mornings, and she and Jane could do something together in the afternoons, but the writing group she had signed up for would begin meeting in the evenings.

“Every evening?” Jane had asked over breakfast, the two women seated around a small circular table on the narrow apartment balcony.

“Very nearly,” Maura replied, ripping off a small hunk of croissant and pressing it between her lips. Jane watched it disappear behind her teeth with an unsettling amount of interest. She glanced down at her own pain au chocolat. At the patisserie, she’d referred to it as a chocolate croissant and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Maura so embarrassed.

“That seems like a lot.” Jane took a sip of her coffee and watched as Maura gazed absently out across the rooftops of Paris. If Maura hadn’t already used up her anecdote about how angry Parisians had been when the city had overturned a ban on tall buildings, Jane was certain she'd be deploying it right now as a stalling tactic.

“It’s more than one group,” Maura said simply, then shrugged. “I need a lot of help. Plus, there’s a social component to it as well. A great way to practice my French, which has gotten rusty.”

Maura was lying. That was something she could do now since her confrontation with her father and good for her, Jane supposed. The thing was, there existed a big difference between telling a lie and selling a lie, and while Maura had gained the ability to do the first, the second was still well out of her reach. Jane felt only a little bit of guilt about keeping that fact to herself.

“Makes sense,” Jane said, finally taking a bite of her pastry. It was truly spectacular, literal heaven on earth, so at least there was that. “Uh, still on for the Saint-Chapelle today?”

Maura’s eyes clouded over as she stared down at her croissant. She ripped off another piece and nodded once.

“Yes, that will be nice.”

It was only just barely. To be sure, the stained glass was as beautiful as Maura had claimed it would be, but despite Jane’s best efforts to break down Maura’s walls, to unleash the version of her that had spoken so passionately about the interior of the church, Maura demurred. She’d insisted her knowledge of the building was insufficient and had, contrary to Jane’s protests, hired one of the on-site guides to lead them on a walking tour. They’d followed him silently and Jane knew something was really wrong when Maura never once interjected. Jane had even tried to goad Maura into taking over the tour, asking increasingly specific questions that their flustered guide couldn’t answer, but Maura just set her jaw and looked up at the glass.

It continued that way and days became weeks. They’d soon been in Paris for nearly seventeen days and since that walk home after the cabaret, all they had done was tour the sites together for a few awkward hours between Maura working on her book and her evening “writers groups.” They visited museums and churches and historical sites and whenever it was possible to pay someone to be a buffer, Maura leapt at the opportunity. Through the lengthy explanations of Paris’s finest tour guides, Jane was experiencing a very thorough education of the city’s history and art, all while their briefly reignited friendship slowly turned to ash.

On their eighteenth evening in Paris, when Maura once again passed on Jane’s invitation to have dinner together, Jane finally lost it.

“What the fuck, Maura,” Jane seethed. “We haven’t eaten together in two weeks.”

“We eat together every day, Jane,” Maura said calmly as she packed a few items in her purse. Jane craned her neck to try to get a look into the bag but Maura shifted her stance to block her view. “We have breakfast and lunch every single day.”

“You know what I mean,” Jane groused. “We haven’t had dinner together. I thought we would do that at least occasionally.”

Maura pressed her lips together, a reliable non-verbal clue that she was carefully considering her words.

“I planned this whole trip without you, Jane,” Maura stated. “I made all sorts of commitments that didn’t include you and I think I’ve done a remarkably considerate job of accommodating you without disrupting what I came here to do.”

Jane recoiled at Maura’s choice of words.

“Accommodating me?” Jane said, voice sharp. Maura turned around and assessed her dispassionately. Her refusal to match Jane’s energy was infuriating. “What, like you’re doing me a favour?”

“Aren’t I?” Maura glanced at her watch, avoiding Jane’s piercing gaze. “You’re in Paris for a month at almost no cost to yourself. Flight, accommodations, many of our excursions… I don’t keep score, Jane, you know that. But I think we can at least agree this is largesse on my part.”

Jane had no response to that, partly due to the fact that it was so out of character for Maura, but mostly because, devastatingly, Maura was right. Jane switched gears instead.

“What the hell happened, Maura? The trip started out really nice. I had been so worried about it and then it was great! And then all of a sudden you don’t have the time of day for me.”

Maura’s body visibly tensed when Jane admitted she’d been worried and Jane cursed internally.

“You’re exaggerating, Jane.” Maura said, a little exasperation leaching into her voice. She pulled a pair of Prada heels from the hallway closet. Jane knew they were Prada because she had been with Maura, holding her bags, when she had purchased them on the Champs-Élysées.

“Am I?” “We’re spending time together every day. We’ve done so many things together.” Maura braced herself against the wall with one hand, hooking a leg backwards to slip on one pump, then shifting her weight to put on the other.

“I mean, yeah, we’ve been physically at the same place every day, if that’s what you want to call spending time together. You’re managing the incredibly impressive feat of avoiding me while standing right next to me.” Jane exhaled noisily, frustrated. “I don’t get it, Maur. We had such a good time at the cabaret and the next morning everything was different. I’m gonna ask you again: what happened?”

Maura checked her hair in the hallway mirror, glancing at Jane by way of her reflection.

“You really don’t know?”

Jane felt an overwhelming physical urge to stop her somehow, to block her path to the door, to grab her handbag and hold it hostage. Her body twitched with the effort required to avoid escalating the confrontation.

“I really don’t.”

Maura turned to face her, appraising her carefully. For a moment, it seemed as though Maura might relent, that she would give in to Jane and stay. Instead, she sighed and opened the door of the apartment.

“I’m already late, Jane. We can talk about it tomorrow.” Maura stepped out over the threshold.

“I know it’s not a writing group, Maura,” Jane said coldly.

It was a last ditch effort. Jane hoped confronting Maura about a lie would break her down. Honesty had always been such a weak spot for her.

Maura did hesitate, but only slightly, and then she was pulling the door shut behind her without another word.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #femslash #f/f fanfic #maura isles #jane rizzoli #f/f #f/f romance #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #rizzles fanfic #they're gonna yell at each other a lot in this one #doomsdaydj fanfic

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julieverne · 4 months

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Maura kisses Jane when she's had a few drinks.

Not in, like, a gay way. She just looks up at Jane with shining eyes and plants one on her. Sometimes it's followed with a slurred 'I freaking love you', and sometimes it's preceded by it. Jane learns her tells pretty quickly, but she never has the heart to dodge them.

---

The first time was in The Dirty Robber. They'd been drinking after a case, and Frost had joined them. They sat on the same side of the booth so women wouldn't think one of them was with him; they didn't want to ruin his pickup game. Jane hadn't noticed the little flush of histamines on Maura's cheeks. She hadn't noticed Maura leaning against her, so involved with the conversation with Frost about their case that she'd merely slung an arm over her and kept talking. When Frost got up to get another round, Jane looked over, and Maura pulled her in close, hand fisted in the front of Jane's tee.

It hadn't been passionate, it had just been a kiss. The sort that bridesmaids give each other on a hens night, the kind that straight women gave each other when they had good news. Jane had chuckled awkwardly, and Maura pulled away from her closed mouth, looking up at Jane with a grin.

"You're so smart. I can't believe you caught that guy."

"It's your evidence that's going to put him away," Jane said gently, a little unsettled. A compliment and a kiss. It was a little too soft and girly for her, but Maura had always been a little too soft and girly for her. That was part of what she liked about her. Jane had enough rumours about her sexuality flying around the precinct, and this was a cop bar. She looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed. Jane hadn't minded; Maura had nice breath and she hadn't mauled her. It hadn't been gross or anything. It hadn't even been particularly unwanted. Part of her wondered if she should mind, but it was hardly a confession of love or attraction. It was just something drunk straight girls did, wasn't it? Maura reached for her glass, but tipped it over instead.

"You're drunk," Jane realised out loud, tightening her arm around Maura's shoulders, glad Frost hadn't seen the kiss. Even though he'd know there was nothing to it, he would heckle Jane relentlessly.

Frost came back with three drinks, and Jane pulled Maura's out of her reach. "You've had enough to drink," Jane said gently, and Maura pouted, slumping against Jane. Frost chuckled, jumping in where he'd left off, while Jane pointed out pretty women at the bar giving him glances.

---

The next time, Constance was staying over. She'd brought wine, and Maura had had a little more than one glass. Jane had had one; she didn't mind a wine or beer, but she stayed pretty sober. PTSD and drinking didn't mix well; she'd learned that fast after Hoyt. Then there was Tommy and Frank, examples that alcohol addiction didn't look good on Rizzolis. Even Jane was feeling the buzz, though; not too heavy, but enough that she excused herself from the table to get some water. She didn't want nightmares later, and she still had to drive home.

Maura joined her in the kitchen, giggling as she stumbled and Jane caught her.

She looked up at Jane, who held her with one arm around her, holding her by the hip, then she looked at Jane's chest, then back up at Jane, her eyes shining, her smile glorious.

"You always save me," Maura said, her voice so low that Jane had to lean down a little to hear her. Maura leaned up a little and pressed her lips to Jane's, quick and easy. "Thanks," Maura said, her cheeks flushed from wine.

Jane held the glass she'd filled from the sink and held it to the lips that had just touched hers until Maura gave in and drank from it.

"You need this more than me," Jane mumbled, her voice low and amused.

Constance and Angela, at the table, looked away when Jane glanced over at them. It was fine. They knew they were just friends. It wasn't like either of them were homophobic either - Constance had been talking about a queer exhibit she'd defended in West Virginia last month, and Angela had shook her head.

"How can anyone hate love," she'd said, looking over at Jane.

Maura drank half the glass before pulling away, shaking her head. Rather than dirty another glass, Jane finished the water and poured another. Her thumb rubbed the crest of Maura's hip, holding her close in case she stumbled again.

"Am I embarassing myself?" Maura asked, sotto voice. Jane chuckled and drank some more water. She turned to look at Maura, who focused her intense gaze on Jane's eyes, seeking an answer. Jane brought up a hand and used two fingers to brush a lock of hair away from Maura's forehead, tucking it behind her ear, then let those fingers drift onto Maura's cheek.

"You could never," Jane told her. "But you're definitely tipsy."

Maura's brow furrowed. She took the glass from Jane's hand and sipped from it.

"I'm being a terrible host," Maura confessed. "Leaving my guests alone at the dining table."

"They're fine. They both love you."

Maura looked uncertain, and it hurt Jane to see just how much she questioned people's affection for her.

"Everyone here loves you, Maura," Jane told her, and Maura's uncertainty turned into a shy smile. Jane knew she'd gotten through to her. Maura's arm wrapped around Jane's waist and she leaned against her. "Even if you are a lightweight," Jane added, rubbing Maura's back.

---

The next time was a Rizzoli gathering. They usually didn't drink, but Tommy was out of town, so it was just Frankie and Jane and Angela in Maura's courtyard, catching up over Sunday dinner. Jane and Frankie fought over who worked the barbeque, and Jane brought Maura her plate first, sitting beside her. Maura's skin glowed in the dusk light, her smile luminescent in twilight. Jane ducked her head to hide the smile on her face, to hide the way Maura made her smile. Maura, caught up in the silliness of Jane and Frankie, stole Jane's beer, wrinkling her nose at the taste of it. God, she was so cute Jane could barely stand it.

So she didn't complain when Maura hauled her inside to get the fresh berries they'd picked upstate for dessert. Maura paused at the counter, looking up at Jane, and Jane was kind of expecting it this time.

Maura got up on her tiptoes in her flats, one hand on Jane's hip, and she pressed her mouth against Jane's.

"Today was perfect. Thank you."

Jane shrugged shyly; it had just been the usual Rizzoli chaos. Maura was still looking up at her like she was a sunset or a fancy painting that coat more than Jane's condo. "I really freaking love you," Maura added. "And your family. I'm so glad I have you."

"Me too," Jane agreed. She snagged a blueberry, chewed it, then pressed her mouth to Maura's, hoping she tasted as good as Maura always did. Maura's smile was shy but no less beautiful for the blue staining her lips.

---

The next time was after the election. Giovanni had been depressed about his candidate, and he'd joined them for a drink. He'd hinted again at a threesome, but Maura, after a single drink this time, had kissed Jane solidly without flinching.

"I'm not sharing her," Maura said possessively, holding Jane's hand on the table. Jane had rolled her eyes when Frankie and Frost and Korsak gave her raised eyebrows from across the room, but she'd tucked her arm over Maura's shoulders and kissed her temple.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Jane said, shrugging.

"I'm hardly a horse, Jane,"

"Come on, I know you know the origin of that phrase."

"Typically a horse's age can be determined by the length and wear on their teeth. Are you saying I'm too old for you?"

"Christ," Jane said, exasperated. "Everything's an insult to you, isn't it? No, you're not old. You're not a horse. It's just something people say when they have something too good to be true. Something they don't think they deserve." Jane paused to realise the truth of that statement. Jane knew she wasn't good enough for Maura, but that was okay, because they weren't actually dating, just pretending.

Maura's eyes were big and teary, and Giovanni cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Jane's confession.

"I'm not something you need to deserve. I'm not something you need to earn."

"I know, but sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life." Jane wasn't surprised by the sincerity of her statements; she'd never felt good enough for Maura, and she knew she was lucky to have such a good friend. She'd taken in most of Jane's family, and Jane herself, in times of trouble. Maura's mouth trembled, a single tear spilling from her eye, and Jane caught it with the tip of her thumb, cradling Maura's face.

"Youse two are so sweet," Giovanni said. "I'm outta here before I gotta see a dentist." He joined Frost at the bar, and Jane pulled Maura closer.

"Don't cry," Jane whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise for crying."

"I'm not used to hearing that people - that anyone values me."

"You mean beyond your immense fortune?" Jane joked, and Maura gave her a watery smile. "Look, I know we put on an act for G, but I do value you. Our friendship is the most important relationship I've ever had in my life. I am lucky to have you. Most people don't like dead body talk at dinner, and you're the one that usually starts it. Most people don't like knowing their friends get shot at-"

"I don't like it when you get shot at. Or shot."

"But you haven't - people abandoned me, after Hoyt."

"I'd never." Maura shot Jane an incredulous look that she'd even suspect it of her.

"I know," Jane immediately reassured her. "Look, I'm not good at all the mushy feelings stuff, but I meant what I said. I'm lucky to have you. I don't know what I did right to have you in my life, but I'm forever grateful I do."

Another tear leaked from Maura's eye, and Jane caught that one too. Maura's eyes closed, and Jane let herself cup Maura's face.

"I think I'm the lucky one," Maura said, her voice low. Her eyes opened and she looked at Jane. Jane could see the lonely, neglected child Maura had been, could see the insecure woman she'd initially met. But she could also see the strong, independent Doctor Maura Isles that championed not just herself but Jane. The ire in her voice when she'd chastised a nurse for Jane's empty morphine pump. The way she'd stood between a woman with a knife and Jane. Maura blinked and her expression changed, something impossibly sweet in her eyes before she pressed her mouth against Jane's again. She pulled away with a little smirk, her confidence returned. "You're lucky I love you," she challenged Jane.

Jane let her hand fall from Maura's face, picked up her beer and took a sip, feeling a little regret that it was washing away the feel of Maura against her lips. She looked intently at her beer bottle.

"Yeah, I am," Jane admitted, hearing Maura's triumphant chuckle as a reward.

The next time was at Camille's wedding. Jane was wearing a simple dress Maura had chosen for her - one comfortable enough that she wouldn't fidget through the service, but elegant in its simplicity and the way it flattered Jane's lanky form. Jane had danced with Frost, and Cam, and Frankie, and even Camille and Robyn. Maura had been on her feet all night, always someone ready to take the next dance with her, even Angela and Susie. Jane looked over, saw her glowing under the fairy lights, and excused herself from the conversation she was having with Korsak.

"May I have this dance?" Jane asked.

"Only if we swap shoes," Maura said immediately, and a moment later Jane led her over to the chairs, examining Maura's feet. "I'm okay," Maura reassured her, but Jane pulled a band-aid from her purse and covered a blister on Maura's heel anyway, trading their shoes. She rolled her eyes when her toes got pinched.

"Great, it's not like I wasn't tall enough already," Jane complained, but she helped Maura to her feet. The additional couple of inches difference in their heights meant that Maura could rest her head against Jane's chest as they swayed more than danced to the song playing. "Have you had a good night?"

"I've had a lovely night. It makes me mad that they can't get married back home, that the state won't recognise their partnership."

"Sometimes the law sucks," Jane agreed, and Maura chuckled, her hand tightening on Jane's waist. The lights dimmed and Maura pulled back, seeking Jane's face in the darkness. She really had to stretch this time, to kiss Jane. She had a few drinks, but they'd been there for hours. She lingered there a moment this time, then dropped back down, resting her head against Jane's chest again. Jane looked around; the lights were coming up again, someone had plugged in the strand over the wedding arch again. Not that she minded, but they were at a lesbian wedding, and people might get the wrong idea.

"I really, really, freaking love you, Jane. Mostly for swapping our shoes, but also for your other contributions to my personal comfort levels."

Jane chuckled, holding Maura closer. She closed her eyes and felt Maura's head resting over her heart. As lovely a night as Maura might have had, Jane was sure hers had been nicer, because it was ending with Maura.

---

Even Casey being back in Boston didn't deter Maura. They'd come home, giggling and whispering, and Casey had come out, tousled, from Jane's bedroom. Jane liked how she felt with him. She liked that no one questioned their relationship, that no one thought she was too close to Maura. Because she had Casey. He eyed Maura, then sighed.

"Guess I'm taking the couch," he said, resigned, and she loved that he offered, loved him for offering. Loved that he knew Maura came first. She kissed him, then dragged Maura to the bedroom, still giggling.

Maura looked cute in Jane's pyjamas. Jane had bought them specifically for Maura; they had a pattern of crowns on the pants, and the top had the word 'Diva' in gold across the chest, with a little crown tilted over the 'd'. Maura used her toothbrush, then brushed her hair as she watched Jane brush her teeth. The giggles were gone, and the sombre mood had returned; they'd had a rough case, and it had been hard on both of them. Jane was glad Maura was here, because she'd hate to think of Maura all alone in her big bed in Beacon Hill, thinking too much about what she could have done to find the killer sooner so there wouldn't have been a second victim, while Jane lay awake across town in Casey's arms, feeling inexplicably like she'd gone wrong somewhere.

"I should have-" Jane started, seeing what she should have seen earlier. That poor kid would be alive if she'd seen it sooner. Maura took Jane's toothbrush and put it back in the cup. Jane and Maura's shared a cup; Casey's sat on the bench in a travel clip. She turned Jane to look at her.

"It's not your fault," Maura told her sternly.

"I could have done something," Jane said, aware her voice was shaking.

"You know you're not responsible. That awful man would have found some other way to-" Maura shook her head. "I could have-"

"There was no way of knowing." Jane tried to reassure her. "He covered his tracks. We were all taken in by him. I know we both feel like we should have seen it sooner, but you've said it before. Serial killers integrate incredibly well." Maura nodded sadly, and Jane's heart broke a little. Jane was allowed to blame herself, but Maura wasn't. She'd worked long hours, she'd worked tirelessly despite the minute amount of evidence she'd had. That she'd found anything at all was close to miraculous. Jane hugged her, and Maura clung to her, her shoulders shaking. Jane carefully helped her down the hall to the bedroom, sat her down on the bed. She took the left side, forcing Maura onto the side Jane usually slept on. She wasn't making Maura sleep where Casey slept.

"You did everything you could," Jane said, hearing Maura's uneven breathing in the dark. Maura rolled over and found Jane in the bed, hovered over her for a moment, her fingers finding Jane's mouth before her lips did.

"I didn't, but I love you for saying that, even if it's not true." Maura's breath ghosted over Jane's face. Her lips were always soft, but tonight they were salty with the tears that had fallen on them unchecked. Jane found Maura's cheeks in the dark, brushed her thumbs across them.

"How is it not true?"

"I could have found it earlier. He left it there for me. He was taunting me."

"It is so far out of standard operating procedure to check the upper intestines for the momentos of a serial killer. And the fact that the second victim died before we even found the first means there was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have stopped him. We have stopped him, and it's because your brilliant mind found his sick souvenirs."

"I appreciate you saying that."

"Everything that happened was because he was a monster. None of it, not the timing, not the second death - none of it is your fault."

"If it's not mine, then it's not yours either," Maura said, and Jane loved that Maura knew Jane was blaming herself. Maura had stopped crying, but Jane's hands still cradled her face. She pulled Maura down a little lower, too ashamed to ask, too scared to do it herself. But Maura knew her, Maura understood her. Maura placed a gentle kiss of absolution on Jane, and she felt the tension leave them both. Maura tucked herself up on Jane's chest, her hands gripping Jane like a teddy bear.

It was only then that Jane remembered Casey in the other room, the smell of his aftershave on her sheets. Shouldn't she want to be in his arms, after a day like that? He'd understand, wouldn't he? All the self-recriminations, all the things Jane saw on the job. He'd understand.

But he didn't know Jane. Not the way Maura knew Jane. He didn't know how to ease her guilt with a single kiss.

And that made her feel even guiltier.

---

Jane had been checked over by medics before heading to Maura's. She knew Angela was out, and she hoped no one had told Maura what had happened. Casey was gone again, and all Jane had to show for it was an email saying it wasn't going to work out.

It hadn't mentioned Maura.

It hadn't had to.

Maura was at the counter when Jane came in. She turned and stormed towards Jane so angrily that Jane backed up into the door behind her, swallowing.

Maura audited Jane now that she had her trapped, her fingers frisking her like she was a perp, pressing against Jane's ribs to find extra give or bruising, looking for bandages under her shirt.

Jane submitted guiltily to the search, pulling off her jacket and holding out her arm. She'd had a tetanus shot too, which was tender when Maura touched her ass. Barbed wire. She'd been shot at, but it was the barbed wire that got her.

Evidently satisfied Jane was relatively unmarred, some of Maura's ire dissipated. She held Jane's hand and stroked the line of the scar, then lifted her hand to Jane's stomach, where a bullet had gone through her. The other hand trailed up to Jane's throat, where a serial killer had cut her more than once.

Then Maura's lips were on hers, harder and angrier than they'd ever been. A fierce, scared kiss that wasn't the sort a friend would give a friend. Maura pulled away, her finger still on Jane's throat. She kissed the mark on Jane's throat too, the mark that matched hers. When she pulled away, Jane's fingers sought the matching mark, then she gently pressed her lips against the little scar Jane had left on Maura's life.

"Don't you know how much I-" Maura started. Jane pulled away, worried. Maura started to cry, and Jane held her. "Don't you know how much I worry about you?" Maura asked, and it hadn't been what Jane had been expecting to hear.

"I know," Jane reassured her. "I'm okay, I promise." She cradled the back of Maura's head, her other hand rubbing her back as Maura gripped her tightly, her tears wet against Jane's chest. "I came here so you could see for yourself. See? I'm okay."

"Next time you might not be," Maura said fiercely. "No going in without backup. You agreed."

"He wasn't a suspect."

Maura grunted with frustration. Jane ran her fingers through Maura's hair. It hurt when Maura was hurt. But it felt good to have Maura worry about her. It felt good to have that anger aimed at her, because it was easier than all the other things Maura aimed at her. The soft kisses and gentle words. The way she took care of Jane and her family. Maura was too soft and girly for her, and she wished she was softer and girlier for Maura in a way she'd never wanted to be for Casey. She wanted to be the sort of woman who could do Maura's makeup and kiss her in public. She wanted to be the sort of woman who didn't make Maura stay up late worrying about her.

"I never meant to scare you," Jane started. Maura sniffed and pulled away, wiping at her face, pulling away again when Jane reached for her cheeks.

"You have a partner for a reason. How can you expect Frost to watch your back when you take off on your own?"

"I'm sorry," Jane said gently. "He was at lunch, and I didn't think this guy was a threat."

"Can you at least let me know before you do something stupid like that, so I can tell you how stupid you're being?"

"I can try."

"Okay." Maura pouted once more, then gave Jane a weak smile. "Okay."

It was only then that Jane realised that Maura hadn't tasted of wine or beer. She'd been sober. Jane's stomach clenched painfully. It was too real. It wasn't something friends did. Friends didn't kiss - not like that - not sober. She headed for the fridge, grabbing a beer, hoping it would make her feel better. Hoping it would drown out the hope that Maura might actually mean it when she kissed her.

---

Maura smiled when Jane came in after parking the car, but Jane shook her head, serious and quiet. She approached Maura in the kitchen, seeing Maura's uncertainty as Jane advanced on her. Jane kept going until she had Maura pinned against the fridge, the sensor turning the light on, illuminating Maura with a tantalising glow.

Jane lowered her mouth, seeing how Maura's tilted up to hers, then skirted sideways, pressing her lips to the little freckles on the right side of Maura's throat that she'd always wanted to kiss, then around over those collarbones, to the scar she always felt guilty about when Maura didn't cover it in concealer. Maura started to ask a question, but Jane's mouth covered hers and swallowed it. Jane's mouth was usually closed when Maura kissed her; she opened herself up for Maura tonight, and Maura melted between Jane and the fridge. Jane drove on; Maura always had been too soft and girly for her. Jane was used to being forthright and direct, and her lips asked permission that Maura fervently granted, her mouth dropping open to welcome Jane, her hands pulling Jane closer, pressing her hips into Jane, a desperate little whimper escaping from her lungs into Jane's. Jane pulled away, worried she'd hurt her, then saw Maura's plump lips and mildly dilated pupils and flushed chest. She put a hand to Maura's forehead.

"Your temperature is raised," Jane said in wonder. Maura rolled her eyes.

"Did you think I was telling you the signs of female arousal so you'd know when men are attracted to you?" Maura scoffed, pulling Jane back to her, hand on the back of her neck. She matched Jane's energy with her own, hands scrambling at Jane's shirts, with her pants, giving up and threading through Jane's hair, grasping her scalp and making sure Jane didn't pull away.

The front door opened and closed, and Angela coughed as she placed something on the kitchen counter behind them. They pulled apart, flushed and trembling.

"I got takeaway, since you two prefer to eat out," Angela said, taking one bag and heading for the door with a smirk. Jane and Maura stared after her.

"Do you - do you think she knows what that means?" Jane asked finally. Maura shrugged, her attention back on Jane's lips - lips that weren't kissing hers. Lips that should be kissing hers.

Jane pulled away reluctantly.

"I got the rest of my life to kiss you, but that food will be cold by the time I'm done with you."

"How long are you expecting it to take?" Maura asked, following Jane to the food, hiking up her shirt at the back so she could palm her stomach from behind.

"Hmm?" Jane was distracted by dishing out the meals, but also by Maura's hand sliding slowly up her shirt. Maura could be asking how long Jane expected the rest of her life to take, which clearly neither of them knew, or she could be asking how long Jane expected it to take to thoroughly satisfy Maura, which she'd have to budget a few hours for - her lips were so kissable and addictive that she kind of wanted to just do that forever, aware as she was of the building tension as Maura's hand slid lower. Or she could be asking...

"How long until you think you'll be done with me?"

Maura's voice was coy, but Jane heard the question and turned, taking both hands so Maura had to listen to her.

"Just said. Rest of my life. Probably won't be long enough, but I'm never going to be done loving you."

Maura, stunned, freed one hand and pressed it over Jane's heart.

"I meant. You know. The, um. Are we going to?"

"Oh, the sex? When we'll be done having sex? Until neither of us can move anymore, I guess," Jane said casually, squeaking when Maura hauled her out of the kitchen, giving their deserted meal one last longing look before giving up and following Maura up the stairs.

---

Maura kisses Jane when she hasn't had a drink.

In, like, a gay way. She just looks up at Jane with shining eyes and plants one on her. Sometimes it's followed with an 'I love you', and sometimes it's preceded by it. Jane beats her to it more than half the time.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #maura isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic

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starkillerbass · 2 months

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#jane rizzoli #maura isles #rizzles #jane and maura #rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #rizzles fanfic #ao3 #ao3 the jock and the snob #the jock and the snob on ao3

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withgirl-sq · 5 months

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First attempt at Rizzles Fanfic

Snippet below, please let me know whether you would be interested in more? (The idea has a happy ending haha)

Dr Maura Isles hated Patrick Doyle.

That statement had once been complicated by the feeling that biology had to mean something, by the fact that he obviously cared about about her in his own twisted way born from a violent upbringing void of ‘normal’ love. She would toil over caring about a monster, about what it meant to be the progeny of a person who could take another life, who would be willing to cause the injuries she saw on a daily basis in excruciating detail.

It was somewhat comforting to discover that he lived by a code, that he would only go after the guilty and, even then, he would never hurt a woman or a child.

Any semblance of respect for the mob boss was abolished, however, upon discovering that there was one thing that would make him break his code.

Much to no one’s surprise, he had weasled his way out of custody based on a technicality, which had inexplicably made Maura happy at the time. If it were any other criminal, she would have bemoaned the American justice system’s penchant for allowing bad people to walk free if they had the funds, but this was her biological father.

After thinking that there was a chance that he wouldn’t survive his injuries, it was natural that she would be elated that he wouldn’t be given the death sentence, right? Even if it was because the state found it impossible to find anyone who would willingly testify against him.

Things had steeply gone downhill from there. It would become a sequence of events that she would recall each night as she stared at the ceiling of living room for hours on end.

She would analyse them in a futile attempt to discern whether it could have been avoided and she always came to the same conclusion.

If she had forgiven Jane Rizzoli, she would still be alive.

#rizzles #jane rizzoli #maura isles #jane rizzoli x maura isles #rizzoli and isles #rizzles fanfic

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sunflwrseeds-scully · 1 year

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Remembering how I used to write for fun and I was actually really good at it and enjoyed it and like u g h idk how to put these feelings into words

#reading my own #rizzles fanfic #what lolll #No but like I miss writing for myself and for the fun of it

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thegayraccoon · 1 month

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some fresh Rizzles on your dash in the year of 2024?? i know , insane, but hey blame @doomsday-dj and their amazing fic!! honestly this one's not on me

inspired by chapter 7

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #fanart #thegayraccoon art #do no harm #fanfic fanart

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onceuponaweirdo · 28 days

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Any rizzles writer up to take a wild prompt? It's not really wild, just kind of unusual for this fandom

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #maura isles #writing prompt #fanfic #ao3 #fandom

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deweydefeatstruman · 12 hours

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Since I discovered Rizzoli and Isles in the good year of our lord 2023, I’ve been reading backlogs of fanfiction from AO3 and Fanfic.net, and written some of my own. One thing that has absolutely stunned me is how nasty some of the comments have been on fanfiction.net. I have been reading numerous stories where authors have had to turn off guest commenting because people were being so rude to them in the comments section.

Have I missed something? Has fanfic.net always been like this?? I started my fanfic journey on fanfic.net and I NEVER remember it being this contentious.

This has just simply taught me how amazing AO3 is and how wonderful readers and authors are over there!! Love you small but loving Rizzles fandom 🥹

#fanfic #ao3 #rizzoli and isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #maura isles #fanfiction

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hollie47 · 6 months

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I'm a little stuck on NaNoWriMo so I'm opening up requests. If you want me to write you something between 100 - 1,000 words send it through. You can find my ships on my page!

#bishlova #taserwitch #jaysteph #cha'an #clashildr #thasmin #kacy #red queen ouat #jim x archie #rizzles #b7 #sa'rina #una x marie #lestappen #wenclair #lumity #fanfic #requests

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doomsday-dj · 1 month

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Decorative Grapes Rizzoli & Isles Rating: T Words: 3157 (This isn't any of the things that I said I was working on but I hope you all like it anyway!)

“I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling. Everytime we see her at one of these she’s with that detective of hers and she’s practically stuck on her like a stamp. They’re always touching each other.”

“Honestly. It’s blatant. ‘This is my colleague,’ and ‘have you met my friend,’ as if anyone with eyes couldn’t tell she and that guard dog of a woman are intimately acquainted.”

“Mmm. Truthfully, I certainly wouldn’t object to being familiar with her ‘colleague.’ If it were me I’d let everyone know.”

“God, you’re truly beyond hope. Regardless, whether she wants it or not, everybody does know.”

Maura hears a heavy door open and close and the sound of fading laughter. A very welcome silence follows, a signal that she’s once again alone in the bathroom. Eyes closed, body trembling, she leans back against the smooth metal wall of the stall she’s been hiding in.

Ten minutes ago, Maura’s phone had pinged with an urgent email from the governor’s office and she’d excused herself from Jane’s company to find a quiet place to respond. She’d been tapping away in the bathroom when the women had entered, her presence silent enough that they clearly thought they were alone. Neither had needed the facilities for any of their traditional uses, leaving Maura with the devastating conclusion that their only reason for coming into the bathroom was to gossip about her.

Maura tries her best not to cry. She presses a cool hand first to her throat, then her cheek, trying to relieve some of the heat that has gathered beneath her skin. She’s absolutely burning up, flushed with embarrassment and shame at what she’d just overheard.

The conversation was such a cruel confirmation of what Maura has long been fearing. She already knew she relies too much on Jane’s company at these events, but thanks to those loudmouthed women she now also knows she’s been doing a terrible job of hiding her ever growing affection for Jane.

Maura breathes in for four seconds, holds her breath for seven, and then exhales for eight. She does it again as she exits the stall to wash her hands and again as she presses a piece of damp paper towel to her still-flushed chest and neck.

When the reflection in the mirror looks sufficiently calm, if still a bit ruddy, she exits the bathroom. As Maura anxiously scopes out the event space, she realizes that the worst part is she hasn’t the first idea about which two women were talking about her.

She zeros in on Jane lingering by where a dessert buffet has been set out on one side of the ballroom. She’s easy to spot: her height and her wild hair and her suit all readily mark her as different. It’s Jane’s nicest suit, which Maura appreciates, but with the caterers in tuxedos, Jane is unquestionably the least fancy person in the room. Maura loves that. She loves her. Jane diligently comes with her to every charity auction and gallery opening, unselfconsciously rubbing shoulders with her acquaintances and serving as her social interaction sounding board and shield, and all Maura has done to repay her is get her name dragged through the mud.

Maura makes her way over quickly. Jane seems to know on instinct when Maura is close and turns to face her just as Maura makes her final approach. Jane’s warm smile, usually so effective at making Maura feel at ease, causes a lurch of guilt in her stomach.

“Oh, hey,” Jane greets her. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party. Do you think these grapes are decorative?” Jane nods her head at the selection of desserts.

“I’m—sorry?” Maura trips around the prepared apology that had been on the tip of her tongue, rehearsed several times on her way across the ballroom.

“The grapes,” Jane says. “You think they’re for eating?”

Maura blinks twice and follows Jane’s gaze to where many bunches of grapes adorn the dessert table.

“I think they’re quite clearly real grapes, Jane,” Maura says slowly.

“Yeah, genius, I know that part.” The words themselves are a little harsh but Jane’s voice is filled with that affectionate teasing that seems to be reserved just for Maura, a tone that makes it very clear that when Jane says ‘genius’ she means it. She’s still carefully examining the arrangement of grapes. “But are they decorative. They’re not even on the plates, they’re just like all around the plates. Is that something rich people do? I don’t want to look like some idiot townie who can’t tell a dessert from a garnish.”

Maura’s mouth opens and closes a few times. She’d worked up quite a head of steam on her way over and now instead she’s being called on to give expert testimony on grapes. Maura looks at the table again and takes the task seriously.

“They’re probably intended mostly as decoration,” Maura admits.

Jane weighs Maura’s perspective heavily and then shakes her head. “That’s dumb, I’m still eating them.”

Decisive as always, Jane reaches down with slender fingers and plucks a small bunch of the darkest grapes, dusty blue-purple in colour, and plops them on her plate. She tosses one in her mouth and makes a deep, satisfied noise as she nods solemnly, visibly pleased with her choice.

“Anyway, what’s up with you?” Jane says. She glances over at Maura as she slips another grape in her mouth. Maura watches it disappear before looking back into Jane’s eyes with a hint of panic. “You look stressed and you walked over here in that tight little way you do when you’ve got a test result I’m going to hate.”

“What—I do not—tight?” Maura sputters.

“Yeah, like, pinched.” Jane lifts her shoulders into a tense shrug, demonstrating. “And you walk really fast with short little steps.”

Maura scoffs in offense but resists the urge to launch into a vigorous denial. While she’d very much like to defend her honour, or at least the length of her strides, she knows that if she gets into an argument with Jane she might never get to what she really needs to say. She sighs instead.

“Jane, I have to tell you something.”

Jane’s head dips at the weight of Maura’s voice, concern shading her features. She glances around, then takes Maura by the elbow and draws her away from the dessert table, moving to a more private spot off to the side of the ballroom.

“What’s up? What happened?” Jane’s deep brown eyes search Maura’s face, her hand still holding Maura’s arm. Maura chews her lower lip nervously. She’d figured out exactly how she wanted to say this when she was crossing the ballroom but now the only thing in her head is the different varietals of grapes that are on that stupid table. She’s just going to have to wing it.

“Jane, I overheard two women gossiping about us in the bathroom. I can’t apologize enough and if I’d had any idea that…well, I’m just very sorry. But unfortunately, everyone thinks you and I are together.”

Jane’s features, which had creased with concern when Maura began talking, smooth out in relief. “Well, sure.” Jane breathes out a sigh. “Of course they do.”

Maura blinks, first confused, then frustrated. She must not have said it right. Why can’t she be better at these things?

“No, Jane,” Maura says seriously. “I mean romantically. They think we’re dating.”

Jane stares at Maura. “Right, yeah. Obviously.”

Maura is dumbfounded. Obviously? Her expression must be broadcasting her bewilderment because Jane’s face crinkles with tender concern. It’s one of Maura’s favourites from the catalog of Jane’s expressions she’s learned to recognize. While plenty of people have looked at her with concern in her life, it has almost always been the pitying or morbid kind, and Jane’s feels like the sun. Maura basks in it.

“You don’t mind?” Maura asks, eyes wide with surprise and relief.

“Maur,” Jane starts softly. Her hand is still on Maura’s elbow and her thumb rubs a soothing circle against the soft skin of Maura’s upper arm. “I do mind that they’re talking about you behind your back. That’s rude as hell. But the fact that they think we’re a couple?” Jane shrugs. “What else are they gonna think? Every single time you’re at one of these things I’m with you. We show up together, we leave together, we spend most of our time together. It’s like…girlfriend or bodyguard, those are the options people are going to come up with.”

“That’s absurd.” Maura exclaims and, although she doesn’t want to be, she knows she’s probably coming off a little frantic. Her heart started racing when Jane said ‘girlfriend’ and hasn’t stopped. “Why isn’t ‘friend’ an option? Because that’s the truth, we’re friends.”

“I dunno, I think bodyguard is a little true, too,” Jane says wryly and lets go of Maura’s arm to pop another grape in her mouth. Maura shoots her a look.

“Jane, I’m serious. Just because two people…” Maura sighs. “So we spend a lot of time together, so what? They shouldn’t leap to conclusions like that.”

Jane makes a noncommittal noise in response. She sets her plate of grapes down and stares out onto the dance floor where couples have started swaying around to the jazzy house band that began playing after dinner. After a silent moment she looks back to Maura.

“You wanna dance?” Jane asks. Maura looks at her incredulously and Jane offers another shrug in return. “I mean, they’re gonna think it either way, so you might as well get to dance. You always say how you want to.” She holds out her hand, palm up, and Maura stares at it like she’s never seen one before in her life.

“I…okay,” Maura says dumbly. She places her hand in Jane’s and allows herself to be led out onto the dance floor. She feels immediately like every eye in the room is on them but when she glances around she finds that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Then she’s in Jane’s arms.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jane asks at the same time that her hand slides around to the small of Maura’s back, her other hand still clasping Maura’s and raising it up. Maura can’t pretend she isn’t shocked that Jane is this confident about dancing. She stares at Jane in a daze.

“Sure, yes.” Maura swallows with some difficulty and slides her hand up Jane’s arm until it winds over her shoulder. Jane’s eyebrow twitches just slightly and the smile on her face is not one that Maura can easily identify. She’s not sure she’s seen it before. Jane begins to sway them around the floor, sweeping her gaze around the room before settling it back on Maura.

“If there was a woman who came to all of these events, each time with the same man, and she spent all her time with him and they came and left in the same car and everything we do, what would you think?”

Maura looks up into Jane’s questioning face and presses her lips into a thin line. She blushes a bit. “I get what you’re trying to say, Jane, and you’re right, I’d think they were together. But all I’m taking away from that point is that one shouldn’t make assumptions about pairs of differing genders either.”

“That probably is the right lesson,” Jane says as she spins them slowly around. Maura thinks they might be pressed even closer together than when they started. No, she’s sure of it, actually, because she can no longer look Jane in the eye without craning her neck and Jane’s lips are startling close to Maura’s ear when she starts talking again. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Yes.” Maura really doesn’t mean for it to come out so huskily.

“Ignoring that lesson you just learned…if you had a friend, a male best friend, and he spent all his time with you and made you come to his dive bar with him and drove to your house every morning for fancy coffee before work even though he’d happily drink instant and has a well documented hatred for getting up earlier than he has to…”

It’s not exactly a subtle beginning on Jane’s part and Maura has already lost the ability to regulate her breathing. She’s trying not to dig her fingers into Jane’s neck but she’s not quite sure how to keep upright if she doesn’t hold onto something. She feels the arm around her waist tighten just slightly before Jane continues.

“...If, hypothetically, he’d run a marathon for you, pretend to be your lover to discourage a truly disgusting mechanic he definitely warned you about, and of course fill his nights with every charitable event in the Boston elite’s social calendar… What would you think?”

Maura can’t believe what she’s hearing. She especially can’t believe Jane Rizzoli just said lover.

“Jane,” Maura exhales quietly. She wants to lean back and look Jane in the eyes, verify that all of this is really happening, convince herself that she didn’t fall and hit her head in the bathroom prompting some very vivid auditory hallucinations, but Jane’s hand slides up to the middle of her back and holds her firmly in place.

“What would you think, Maura?” Jane’s voice is low and her breath is hot against Maura’s cheek. She shivers and grips the collar of Jane’s jacket so, so tight.

“I would think he wants me.” It’s barely louder than a whisper but Maura feels like she’s shouting.

“Hm,” Jane says, sounding sage, as if she’d just uncovered some difficult mathematical proof. “I think you’d probably be right.”

This time when Maura tries to lean back, Jane lets her, her hand returning to the small of Maura’s back except a little bit lower than it was before. Jane has that same mysterious smile from earlier and now Maura’s starting to get a sense of what this one means.

She has no less than a thousand questions about this revelation but it’s not difficult to pick out the most important one.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Maura carefully searches Jane’s expression, which turns bashful. Jane looks awkward and vulnerable and it’s painfully sweet. Maura can hardly fathom that Jane is still managing to dance them around the room.

“I tried to,” Jane says a bit helplessly. “Well—I tried to show you. I’m not very good with words. Unfortunately you’re not always so good without them. But I thought…you know, all that stuff you said about the signs of attraction, I thought you’d see my eyeballs having contractions and stuff.”

“Facial muscles,” Maura murmurs.

“Whatever,” Jane says, then clears her throat. They finally come to a stop but they don’t quite disengage, their clasped hands dropping to their sides while their other arms remain around each other. Jane’s eyes dart around uncomfortably. “Well anyway, now you know. I guess that’s also why I don’t really mind if everyone mistakenly thinks we’re dating.”

“Would you mind if they weren’t mistaken?” Maura asks, slipping her hand free. She can feel Jane’s fingers twitch at the loss.

“Of course not.” Jane frowns, offended at the implication. “If you want to clear things up with everyone, of course you should. Take an ad out in the next newsletter if you need to.”

“No, I don’t—that’s not what I meant.” Maura slides her hand from around Jane's shoulder to grasp one of the lapels on Jane’s blazer, her unoccupied hand coming up to take hold of the other. “I mean, what if—”

Maura wants to finish her sentence, she really does, but when she drops her gaze from Jane’s eyes to her mouth her fingers start tugging down on the collar of Jane’s jacket and she’s just going to have to show Jane instead, like Jane had tried to show her.

And she really had, hadn’t she? There will be time later to reflect on all the signs she missed but for now, Maura kisses Jane, lightly brushing their lips together once, twice, then tilting her head and slotting her mouth confidently against Jane’s. There’s the briefest moment of shock where Jane’s whole body goes rigid and then she melts into the contact and it sparks electricity up and down Maura’s spine. The hand that isn’t wrapped around Maura’s waist finds its place at the back of Maura’s neck, resting strong and possessive.

Jane tastes like grapes and their kiss is a relief and a thrill and a confirmation. When Jane makes a quiet, hungry sound deep in her throat it nearly extinguishes any consideration for social etiquette on Maura’s part. Despite the very public circumstances of their first kiss, Maura so badly wants to bite down on Jane’s tender lower lip, lick along the seam of Jane’s closed mouth and waste no time when she opens it. She wants to press herself against Jane’s strong thigh and goad Jane until she pushes Maura up against the nearest wall. More than anything, Maura wants to give those two women something to really talk about. She does none of those things, of course, if only because Constance Isles has many friends in this room and that’s not a phone call Maura is interested in having. She does, however, prolong the kiss as long as she reasonably can before breaking off with a sharp sigh, her eyes squeezed shut. For a moment everything is still.

“Hey,” Jane says carefully, nervously. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” Maura opens her eyes to find Jane’s looking the softest she’s ever seen them. She thinks her heart might burst. “I just… Well. While I’m obviously no longer worried about the spreading of false gossip, I’m still upset that they think I’m trying to hide it.”

Jane scrunches her face into a skeptical expression. “Oh, I really doubt they’re going to think that after you kissed me in the middle of the dance floor.”

Maura blushes and glances around and this time she does spot a few sets of eyes looking quickly away. She probably will be getting that phone call after all. She releases her grip on Jane’s jacket, smoothing the creases away with the palms of her hands before looking up into the open, caring face of her best friend. Part of her feels like she should be reeling from a seismic change in their relationship, but the whole thing just feels so overwhelmingly correct and Maura finds she can only think about one thing.

So she gives Jane’s shoulder a small shove.

“I don’t have a pinched walk, by the way.” Maura pouts.

“Oh my god, yes you do,” Jane says, reaching for Maura’s hand and winding their fingers together again. “You can’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Let’s go home and I’ll show you my impression.”

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #maura isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction

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