Jane slammed her beer bottle down on the table top.
"Jane!" Maura said. "Calm down."
"I'd like nothing more than to put each of those assholes through a wall."
"That's the beer talking. Look at me."
Dark eyes snapped up to meet Maura's. The medical examiner held Jane's gaze for several moments, and Maura shook her head almost imperceptibly. She took the detective's hand on top of the table. "Just forget about it, Jane."
Jane huffed a sigh and took another swallow from her beer. "One more word out of any of them, Maura, and I'm gonna have to say something."
It was Maura's turn to roll her eyes. "No."
"No?"
"No, Jane. You've been drinking, they're clearly intoxicated, and besides, you're off duty. There isn't much you could do anyway."
Jane rolled her eyes and turned her head to glare at the table at which sat four men with loosened ties, wrinkled shirts, and a nearly empty pitcher of beer. They guffawed loudly while they traded shots, turning the heads of other patrons at the Dirty Robber. One man knocked a shot back and banged the glass back down on the table.
"I ever tell you tell you 'bout that buck I took out a couple weekends ago?" he bellowed to the table at large. The waiter assigned to that part of the restaurant came by to offer food and more beverages. The hunter turned to him. "You ever hunt?" he asked the waiter.
Jane could smell this conversation going south in a hurry. She twitched her shoulder and rolled her neck, trying to ignore the small ball of tension gathering between her shoulder blades.
The young man shook his head. "No, sir. I'm a vegetarian. And I don't like the idea of killing things for entertainment."
"That's alright, I guess." He exchanged a knowing glance with his buddies. They all smirked in reply.
"Can I get you guys anything else?" the waiter asked.
"Another pitcher."
From her seat at the booth with Jane, Maura recoiled slightly at the man's lack of basic manners and courtesy. She could understand why Jane's hackles were up; she just didn't want her wife starting a confrontation that didn't involve her.
"Right away," the waiter said with a nod, and started for the door leading to the kitchens.
The man exchanged another look with his leering table mates and snagged the waiter's sleeve on his fingers. "I'm curious, though. I mean, do you like football? Surely a young guy like you's got a decent-sized monitor at home to catch the Pats on, yeah?"
The waiter tried to subtly pull away while shaking his head. "I'm not a huge sports fan, to be honest." Maura could sense he was keeping his answers short to avoid providing the loudmouth with any more ammunition. "Now how about I get that pitcher for you?"
"Y'know, it's a shame." He tipped his chair back, gazing down his nose at the slim young man as he tried to make his escape. "I mean, you clearly have a hard time talking to people. You don't wanna talk to me – just make small talk – but you're in the service industry. What, does your boyfriend get jealous when you talk to other men? Is that the problem?" He pitched forward, dropping the front legs of his chair back onto the floor. "Maybe you should consider looking for a different place to work where that's not such a big problem."
Jane lurched as if to get to her feet just as the waiter faltered for a moment on his way back to the kitchen. Maura seized her wrist and gripped it firmly. "Oh no you don't, Jane," she said softly, hazel eyes unusually intense. Her detective would not be getting into any fights simply because of an overwhelming compulsion to play a gender-bent knight in shining armor. Not tonight. Not if Maura could help it.
The waiter continued through the swinging doors into the safety of the kitchen. When he disappeared and the asshole went quiet for a moment, Jane relaxed back into the booth seat. Maura's hand remained on her wrist, but her grip slackened, and she began absently running her fingers back and forth over taut tendons beneath smooth skin.
The man then turned his head, taking notice of the fact that Jane had been watching. He ran his hand over his paunch and winked at Jane. "Hey, good-lookin'."
Jane rolled her eyes but managed to stay in her seat and keep her mouth shut. Jaw clenched, she averted her face and took another swig of beer.
"God, when did this place become a gay bar?" he grunted into his own glass before downing the last swallow and turning back to his pals.
A low, tense thrum emanated from Jane's throat, as close as humanly possible to a growl. Maura could only just hear because she was so close. Jane's eyes came up and met Maura's, and the ME forced a smile, encouraging Jane to continue ignoring him. But she was afraid of what might happen if he said one word more. She had as good a handle on Jane's temper as anyone could possibly manage, but there were still times when – even for Maura – the detective became nearly impossible to restrain.
"That's a pair of dykes over there, no kidding!" The men at the table were all leaning close and taking furtive glances in Jane and Maura's direction.
"But they're hot!" one of them murmured incredulously.
Jane nearly choked on her beer at this last comment. Maura's grip on her wrist tightened again as the detective looked ready to break some noses, even as she struggled not to asphyxiate on that last sip from the bottle. Maura watched as the ringleader of the table flagged down another waiter passing by and order something while his buddies were all still talking about the lesbian babes seated at the booth. As Jane managed to swallow and get her breathing back under control, Maura slid her hand from her wife's wrist and quirked a smile. "I'll handle this," she said, sidling out of the booth.
"Maura!" Jane hissed. "What are you doing?"
Another smile flitted back over Maura's shoulder as she turned to the bar with a flounce of her perfect, warm blonde waves.
Jane crumpled the paper bar napkin into a tiny ball in her fist as she watched the men watching her wife pass by. Maura approached the bar and spoke briefly with the bartender. The conversation ended with a generous tip from Maura – as per usual – and Maura's return to the booth with a cocktail of some sort. She slid the glass across to Jane as she slipped back into the booth and reclaimed the detective's free hand.
"What? No, Maura. Plying me with more alcohol will not get me to keep still. You can't distract me now, I'm already pissed." Jane's jaw rippled slightly at the corner as she clenched her teeth.
Maura sighed and stroked Jane's wrist again. "Jane, just for once be quiet and just watch." She indicated the bar with a tilt of her head.
"What did you do?"
"Shh. Just watch." Jane both dreaded and adored the coy and slightly devious ghosting of a smile at the corners of her wife's lips.
"Maura!" Jane hissed again as she watched the bartender preparing a mixed beverage. "You had him spike it?" Her jaw dropped and her head swiveled to look Maura in the eye.
"No, of course not, Jane. I would do no such thing. It would be unethical, as much as I might admittedly want to try it."
The bartender finished and signaled a waiter to come by and deliver the drink to the table it was intended for. The waiter, in turn, made a beeline for the loudmouth. On his tray was a tall glass with what looked like a tropical fruit drink in it, complete with oversized, flowery umbrella and even a crazy straw.
"I didn't order this," the man said gruffly when the waiter set the glass on his table.
"My bartender tells me you did." The waiter looked genuinely taken aback.
"Well I didn't. Tell him he got his tables mixed up. Somebody else must've –" he glanced around, realizing all the tables surrounding them had cleared of people. The Dirty Robber was mostly empty now, save for a few couples sitting in dark corners and keeping to themselves. By now his pals were all beginning to give him strange, amused looks.
"For a macho, you sure know how to order 'em!" one of his friends teased.
Jane couldn't quite stifle the soft snort that the jibe inspired. She and Maura exchanged looks with laughing eyes.
"But I didn't order this!" he grumbled, indignant.
"Sure you didn't," another of his friends said. "Man, and you gave that poor waiter such a hard time for being a little fruity…seems you got him beat."
He bulled to his feet, his chair scraping loudly on the floor. "This is bullshit." The bell above the door jangled harshly as he stormed out, his friends in delayed pursuit.
Jane turned her attention fully back to the medical examiner, beginning to toy with the fingers of the hand she'd been holding. "Well. Doctor Isles." She paused for dramatic effect and cocked a brow. "Can we say, 'lesson learned'?"
Maura replied with a full, dimpled laugh, leaned across the table, and kissed Jane.