A/N - I'm a little torn on this one. There is more of this written, but I'm not quite sure if I want to actually continue it or not, it's just right now a few paragraph sketches of what could happen. Part of me likes leaving this on this sort of hopeful note that this will be the kick in the pants that Jane needs to finally just get over herself and let the reader imagine a happy ending after this, because honestly, I'm torn as to what I want to have happen with this. Really, I just wanted to write some Jane/Frost banter, while watching Casablanca for the zillionth time. And was not in the mood to write more fluff for The Rizzoli Kid, so I wound up with this.
"You alright there, partner?" She looked up from where she was staring at her beer bottle, slowly picking at the label, frowning up at the Dodgers-Padres game, surprised to find that they were already in the 7th.
"Fine." She muttered, looking back up at Frost, before turning her attention back to the label of her beer bottle, pausing in the path to glance at the booth in the corner where Maura sat. With Ian. Ian Faulkner, who decided to magically reappear from whatever third world hellhole he'd been to last.
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns, huh?" She rolled her eyes at Frost, taking another long swig of her beer.
"I dunno, this place could use the gambling room in the back. Might make it more enjoyable than watching this." The beer bottle pointed at the TV. Her gaze was pointed on Maura. Her partner said nothing, merely smirked.
"You really don't like that bastard, do you?"
"No. That's the worst part. He's not a bad guy. He's doing a good thing. He risks himself to save others. I know I sure as hell would never go to some godforsaken hellhole from some Feed the Children ad country. Feels like I'm hating the pope or something."
"Yeah, but it's like, the Doc hears that he's in town, and all of a sudden you're swiss cheese."
"So nice of you to have noticed." She rolled her eyes, returning back to the label of her beer bottle, peeling it off in long, slow strips.
"You still haven't told her, have you?"
"Hell no."
"Why not?" She raised her eyebrow at her partner, her entire body language screaming the unspoken really?
"Yeah, right. Just walk up to your best friend and go hey, this fucked up not-really-a-relationship thing we have? It should become a real thing. Not exactly the sort of conversation you jump right into between talking about the weather and how the Sox are doing."
"You ever consider that she thinks you don't actually y'know-"
"How could she not know? Jesus, Frost, I'm like, captain fucking obvious here. Fuck, that blind CI you have can see it."
"Mr. Magoo?"
"Yeah, him. He could see that I'm-"
"You've got it bad?"
"Yeah. That."
"You're a woman. You know how this shit goes. You don't tell em, they psyche themselves out." She rolled her eyes at her partner's limited understanding of women.
"We do not psyche ourselves out just because – look, she knows damn well how I feel. She knows all she has to do is say she feels it too, and it'll happen." She took a long gulp of her beer, flagging down Murray to fetch her another.
"Maybe she's too shy to make the first move." She stared at Frost, wondering where the hell he had gotten that sort of an idea.
"Is this the same Maura Isles we're talking about? Queen of oversharing? Maura and shy go together about as well as Vanilla Ice and good music."
"Face it, Jane, you're not the easiest person to read."
"I'm like Dr. Seuss to her."
"How do you know she doesn't think you friendzone'd her? I mean, you two have been dancing around this shit for almost a decade." She rolled her eyes. Was her partner really that much of an idiot?
"First of all, the friend zone is definitely a man-made thing, and totally isn't an actual thing. Second of all, once a week. I leave her an opening at least once a fucking week, and she finds some way of dismissing all of them without making me feel like an idiot. I'd be in awe of it if it didn't involve us." There some sort of complicated hand gesture that those who had spent years reading the body language of the wild J. Rizzolius would recognize as a gesture of utter frustration. "Seriously. It's like, she's the master of making people think they still have a chance. Never actually shooting you down, but at the same time, like, sidestepping it. Hell, I thought we were actually starting to make progress here-"
"And then he showed back up." She nodded, starting in on the label of her second beer. Or was it third? Didn't matter.
"It's like he comes back, and he's all y'know, her first true love, and how the fuck can you compete with that? It's like fairy tale shit. He just comes back out of nowhere and whisks her off her feet. And it's like every time he comes back, it makes me wonder why I even bother."
"Cause you're not entirely cold-blooded."
"Fuck you, I have a reputation to maintain. Besides there's something that's gotta get homeland security's panties in a bunch with that guy. I mean, other than the whole smuggle medicine into wartorn countries in a relief effort sort of thing. He'll get his, eventually. One of these days he'll wind up in some other third world hellhole, this time courtesy of the feds."
"So you're not only a sentalmentalist, but now you're becoming a patriot? Nice, Jane, nice." She slugged her partner in his arm, waving down for another round of beers, wondering how it was that the Dodgers and the Padres managed to drag things into extra innings.
"Look, why are we even still talking about this? Did you see Brady during Sunday's game? I mean, it's only preseason, but damn, he still doesn't look the same since he fucked his leg up, what three seasons ago?"
"Four, and you know I'm a Steelers fan, right?" She made a look of mock disgust.
"We will convert you."
"Something in the dirty water, right? Just forces everyone to give up the allegiances. No way. Black and yellow all the way for this guy." She cringed in secondhand embarrassment as she watched Frost launch into full wannabe rapper mode. "You know what it is, everything I do I do it big-"
"Wiz Khalifa you ain't, Frost." He turned to her, impressed at her pop culture knowledge.
"I don't know, what do you think, put me in a hat-" He was purposely mugging as he dragged up a picture of the artist in question and she just laughed, giving him a playful shove. She frowned as she watched the walkoff homer ending the game and her entire reason for being at the bar. She drained what was left of her beer and looked at Frost. "See you tomorrow Rizzoli?"
"I'm like a bad case of crotch-rot, can't just wash me away." She laughed at Frost's pinched look at her rather grusome turn of phrase.
"Yeah, yeah, you and Korsak, all the usual suspects."
"Hey, we're far from usual!"
"Hey, partner, what are you doing down here?" She was slumped against one of the chairs in the morgue office, fingering a knight, toying with it before moving it forward, looking at the board from the opposite point of view without ever moving from her seat.
"It was this or play solitaire at my desk. At least here I don't have to wait on the elevator for the tox results."
"I always pegged you as more of a Freecell sort of girl." She shook her head, moving an opposing bishop and looking back at the pieces on her side of the board. Frost sat down across from her, but made no move to interrupt her chess match against herself. "Minesweeper? Hearts?"
"I can kick you ass in all of them, but I like chess. Makes you think."
"Gives you a distraction, you mean." She looked up from the board long enough to glare at him, before making another move. "She's not here, is she?"
"Out to dinner. Three guesses as to who she's with." She frowned as she realized that she had left an opening. If she was any good at this game, she would have wound up in a draw against herself. A few bleating notes of Dooley Wilson drawled out and she glared across the room at Frost who was hurriedly texting a reply. "When did you pick up that ringtone?"
"What? It's a classic."
"Classic my ass."
"Hey, it's like, one of the most covered songs on the planet."
"So's Paint it Black by the Stones. Doesn't mean it's timeless."
"Hey, just because you're pissed that the love of your life is out to dinner-" She kicked him under the table for the use of air quotes, "With some other dude doesn't mean you need to take it out on good music."
"She's not-" She didn't even bother dignifying the sentence by finishing it.
"Why do you just refuse to admit it? Just tell her already, save all of us the trouble."
"Right. Because that's such an easy conversation to have. Been over this already, Frost. Besides, what happens when he comes back again? Drops back in from whatever Red Cross Relief Mission he's been on and sweeps her off her feet again? Every single time he comes back, it's all oh I thought I'd never see you again and when she does, she can't keep away. I'm not an idiot, Frost. He's not entirely out of her life, he just chooses when to make his cameos." She cursed as she realized that she left a perfect opening in the black defense for a bishop to snake in and poach the queen. She really should be better against herself than she was.
"You really think she'd pick him over you?"
"He had first dibs."
"And you snooze, you lose. He's the one that's come back and left how many times now?"
"This makes three, as long as I've known her."
"And yet she always stays here."
"And how do I know that this time's not gonna be the charm?" She never took her eyes off the board, moving pieces around almost mechanically. Frost was right, this was a good distraction.
"So what, you think this is going to be it, and she's going to fly back to god-knows-where with him? Where they don't even have the electricity, much less the internet for her to keep up with that shoe fetish?" Her scowl deepened.
"Tell that to your ringtone." She muttered as the song in question played the same fifteen second loop.
"You think she's going to stand you up on a five o'clock train for him? Life ain't a movie, you know that, right Rizzoli?"
"No, mine's a terrible soap opera." She frowned as she tried to find anyway to back her way out of the threatening checkmate she'd pinned herself in. She looked up briefly as one of the interns handed her the tox results on their victim. Her scowl deepened as she realized that there was definitely no way out of the pin she had going on the king, and tipped the piece over in resigned defeat.
"Right, well if this is a soap opera, let's just cut to the mid season hiatus, and get back to the case. I'm sure it's a better distraction than losing to yourself at chess." She grinned, handing over the file as she stood up.
"Barry, I have the feeling this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship." She slung a friendly arm around his shoulders as they walked out, trying to track down who was responsible for yet another murder.