Inspired by this post from thepriceismeg's Tumblr: "headcanon: Maura comes home and finds Drunk Jane asleep face-down on the kitchen floor holding a radar gun still pointed at Bass"
1,123 words. I own nothing. I apologize if this seems OOC, or just bleh in general. It's un-beta'd and I'm a bit rusty after not writing any sort of fic in almost a year.
Purely fluff, a smidge of humor, and the tiniest pinch of cuddles. Enjoy.
The door was closed and locked, but the overhead lights just inside had been turned on, indicating there was someone within her home. Maura Isles was ever cautious, pulling her cell phone from the depths of her purse as she tried to keep the clicking of her heels to a minimum.
Although she knew on any good Friday night where she took some extra time in the lab, she could usually expect Jane to let herself in, she had still been wary of slight changes in her home after having been robbed the first time. A dull thud resounded from the kitchen, a familiar, rather than frightening, noise that she recognized as Bass' shell dropping from a single, heaving step as he made his way around. Sure that if something were truly wrong, the tortoise would be hiding, she made her way through the house with a smile at seeing a few familiar beer bottles adorning the coffee table. I suppose Jane must be here. Well, that explains the lights at least.
Further explanation was of course offered at the couple extra cans littering the counter. And the three on the ground. And the crushed aluminum attempted thrown next to her trash can. She was contemplating Jane's likely level of intoxication so intently that she nearly stumbled over the woman she was pondering over.
Lying face-down on her kitchen tile was, of course, Jane. The doctor's first instinct went to check for a pulse, oblivious to the drink held limply in one of Jane's hands and a… machine of some sort residing within the other.
"Hey there, Bass. You stay right there for a second, okay?" She half-whispered in her tortoise voice, then murmuring to herself, "Oh, Jane, what inspired this special occasion?"
She finally glanced over to the oblong mechanism in Jane's right hand, still pointed at the reptile. Realization set in as her overworked mind finally concluded that it was, in fact, a radar gun.
-Earlier-
"Oh, come on, Maura, I've never seen him walk faster than a snail, and that was just for food."
The Medical Examiner continued the incision, even as her friend crossed her arms from across the room. "The average tortoise only walks at one-point-four kilometers per hour, Jane," she explained. The silence pressed on, and she could feel her detective's eyes boring into the top of her skull. She sighed. "That's less than a one full mile-per-hour. The most you would ever see Bass running at would only be one and a quarter miles per hour. Well, technically if I had him in my car coming to work, he would be moving at the speed of-"
"Thank you, doctor Googlespeak. Anyway, my point was, how would he get out if, say, the house were on fire?"
"Isn't there work you could be doing, or some 'perp' you could be chasing down instead of criticizing my pet's natural gait?" The words would've seemed malicious if not for the grin Jane could hear in Maura's voice.
"See, there might be if we knew if this guy jumped off of the building or was pushed. But, getting back to Bass. I mean, I've never seen him make it across a room in under half an hour, have you?"
"I assure you, Bass is quite capab-"
"Maura."
The doctor looked up; able to fully appreciate the view of Jane's 'really?' face when she leveled her own eyes with the detective's.
"He is quite capable of moving with speed if he so desires."
There was that eyeroll as Jane strode across the room. "I'll even sit with Bass tonight with a radar gun, Maura. How much you wanna bet he won't even pull a 'one' on it?"
Of course, with all the confidence that exuded from Jane's departing swagger, Maura had not felt the need for a response. She'd chuckled under her breath and continued her work, believing that Jane would forget about a bet that wasn't even wagered, and would be sound asleep before Maura had returned home.
Although she hadn't exactly expected Jane Rizzoli within her house that night, and certainly hadn't expected her to polish off the spare beer she kept for the nights when she was here, she was indeed able to find humor in the fact that Jane kept to her own speculation of Bass' speed.
The radar gun was left on the counter after she had managed to get Jane to release it. The movement prompted the detective to waken momentarily from her slumber, clutching her near-empty bottle in one hand and the empty space in the other. "Whozzat?"
"C'mon, detective Rizzoli, let's get you in bed. We don't need to be adding a sore back to everything you're going to be feeling tomorrow."
Even in her semi-conscious state, Jane could hear the grin within her voice, and couldn't help the one creeping along her face as well. "I provedit, Maur- he came all the way intoda kitchen, and, and he, uh… zero. It didn't go 'bove zero. Ha."
The finger pointed in Maura's face would've bothered her if not for the teeth being shown on the inebriated woman. She could now understand the colloquial term, 'shit-eating grin,' that Jane so often used. "Yes, yes, Jane. You proved it quite well. Now, let's get you in bed. A bit faster than Bass would, hmm?"
"M'kay. I win."
Maura laughed lightly at Jane's rather declarative statement as she half-supported, half-dragged her friend into her bedroom. Their bedroom, she might as well call it, considering Jane was here more often than not. Getting to the bed in the dark with Jane wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. It seemed as though Jane took her silence as an acknowledgement of her 'win.'
Luckily, Jane had taken her shoes off already. Maura knew from previous experience just how difficult it could be getting a sober Jane to agree to change out of any of her work clothes. She settled in herself a few minutes later, after cleaning up a bit of the detective's mess and going through some of her own nighttime rituals.
She ended up rousing Jane once more as she slid into bed. No matter how gracefully or gently she seemed to do so, the dark haired woman almost always woke slightly, and tonight held no different outcome. Jane sighed comfortably against the soft shoulder she was pressed against, satisfied when Maura's leg went slack from its tense state and tangled with her own leg that'd been thrown casually overtop of it. The contented hum that never seemed to leave Maura's throat lulled Jane to sleep, even as she continued staring at her ceiling.
I didn't honestly think she had a radar gun.
Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated but as always not required. Anon enabled.