A/N: I finally bit the bullet and wrote something. Sorry in advance if it totally sucks or is really OOC. I haven't written since my L Word days. lol Insert typical blah blah about not owning the characters. And yes, I made a reference right off the bat. Bonus points if you get it. ;)
December 24, 9 PM Eastern Standard Time
I'm not one to speculate, as you know, but I do believe I have made more memories today than the rest of my days combined. I will forever be thankful for Jane's insistence that I spend Christmas with her and her family instead of down in the morgue doing paperwork. "Beautiful heart-warming chaos" is how she described it which is quite accurate.
From the moment we walked into the house there was never a dull moment. Frank and Angela were hosting a family get-together which also included Frost and Korsak as well as a few of the other men from the precinct. One moment the air would be full of laughter coming from the women in the kitchen while sipping wine and sharing the latest gossip. The next would be an outburst of Frankie accusing someone of being on crack, whatever that means, due to his opinion on who was the best pitcher ever for the Boston Red Sox. It was a lot to take in, but Jane stayed right by my side, most notably with an arm around me and a smile I've observed that she reserves only for me.
After copious amounts of beer had been consumed, Frankie decided it was time to pretend to be Elvis Presley and sing Christmas songs with Jane as his accompanist at the piano. Jane chuckled and told me it became a tradition after her Aunt Vivian made the mistake of boosting Frankie's already huge ego by telling him he was a really good singer. I know I don't always pick up on Jane's jokes, but I could tell she enjoyed the act just as much as everyone else. Even Frost and Korsak got up and sang back-up for Frankie. While they sounded fine for being so inebriated, I found my attention focused mostly on Jane. I watched her fingers glide over the keys nearly effortlessly. I say nearly because every now and then I would notice a very slight wince cross her facial features. I know she is very grateful to still be able to play after the trauma her hands endured, and in that moment, as she looked at me and winked, so was I.
After everyone left, Jane, Frankie, Frank, Angela, and I settled down to watch Christmas movies. Jane and Frankie decided I needed to see "A Christmas Story" because, as Jane put it, "never getting to watch it is blasphemy." At the end I found myself smiling because I understood how it felt to want something and think I'll never get it. I realized that I got what I had always wanted, and that was a real family with real love.
Frank announced that, per tradition, the next movie would be "White Christmas" because it was the first song he and Angela danced to. When Bing Crosby sang the title song at the end Frank and Angela got up to dance. As I watched them I realized that, while my own parents loved each other, they never seemed to look at each other the way Frank and Angela did. I looked over at Jane and saw her looking at me with a small smile. I glanced back up to her parents, then back to her and let out a small gasp. She was wearing the same look as her parents. I gave her a smile of my own then glanced down at our hands that had instinctively found each other. Through my peripheral vision I could make out a small smirk on Frankie's face accompanied by the tiniest of nods. Jane and I looked over to Frankie who gave a quick side-nod toward the front door, signaling for us to leave before the elder Rizzolis noticed.
"Maur, why is the lamp on?" Jane sleepily asked while squinting and stretching. "Are you writin' in that damn diary instead of keepin' me warm?" She asked between kisses on Maura's neck.
"Journal, Jane. Not diary. And language." Maura snuck a quick kiss to Jane's lips before returning to her journal entry. A small smile played on her lips as she finished the last few words then locked up the book and put it away. She turned off the lamp and rolled over into Jane's arms. They shared a long, slow kiss. This kiss was just one of many they had shared from the moment they set foot in Jane's apartment after the get-together. On a whim, and with several prayers to the God Jane knew she didn't talk to nearly enough, Jane placed mistletoe above her door. But after what had transpired at her parents' house, Jane realized that the mistletoe wasn't really necessary, and neither were their clothes which ended up in a trail leading to the bedroom. That was all the evidence that Santa Claus would need to know he wouldn't have to visit this residence this year.