A/N: I didn't feel like working today, so I wrote this instead. If you like it, let me know!
The usual disclaimer applies: I own nothing.
What are you thinking about when you look at me?
Jane Rizzoli didn't really have fantasies. A homicide detective doesn't have time for fantasies, or pretty much any form of self-indulgence. When she was in the middle of a hard case, she worked, she ate if and when there was food in front of her, and she took power naps in the evidence room. On good days, she had time to watch half a baseball game while her mother and her best friend Maura shared cooking tips. On better days, her phone stayed silent long enough for her to sleep for six hours at a time in her own untidy but comfortable bed.
But if she did ever have time to fantasize—and Jane would never admit it if she did—there was one thing she thought about. Late at night, in the minutes between crawling into bed and slipping into unconsciousness, or sitting at her desk staring into space because she was too tired to think anymore, she imagined going away. Just packing a bag and leaving Boston, for a day, or a week, or a month. Not permanently. Just a nice vacation, to the beach, or a cabin in the mountains, or even one of those fancy spa resorts that Maura was always talking about.
Because Maura always went with her in her fantasy, of course. Just her and Maura. No cases, no criminals, no brothers or parents or partners. Just Maura and her shiny, shiny hair.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Jane knew that this fantasy meant something, but that something was too much for her to deal with. After all, there were cases, and criminals, and brothers and partners, and all that busyness and drama and distraction kept her from thinking about it. Much.
She thought about it one morning though, and her partner Barry Frost caught her—elbow on her desk, chin resting on her hand, staring through the glass doors with her mouth half open.
"You okay, Jane?"
"Huh?" Jane caught a half-smile on Barry's face as she quickly straightened, shadowy images of Maura sitting next to her on a beach towel dissolving into the ether. She watched as his eyes flickered across the room and back, briefly making contact with her own before he cleared his throat.
"Something on your mind, Jane?" Shuffling through papers, Barry added, sotto voce, "Or someone?"
Jane felt her face redden. Maura was just outside the doors, speaking animatedly with—someone. It didn't matter to Jane who it was; she just knew she liked watching Maura. But she didn't like being so obvious about it.
Jane responded to Barry the way she always did when it came to her personal life—with anger and annoyance.
"Shut it, Frost." Her eyes snapped quickly back into focus. "You know the only thing I'm thinking about right now is Hoyt, and how we are going to connect him to this case. And if DOCTOR ISLES," she growled, raising her voice with each word that came out of her mouth, "doesn't hurry up with the DNA results we are never going to figure it out!"
Maura heard her name through the glass, and caught Jane's eye. Guiltily, she broke off her hallway conversation and shrugged her shoulders at the detective before heading down the hall, presumably to check for the umpteenth time if the DNA results had come in.
Jane sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
"You really need to get more sleep," was all Barry had to say.
Deflated, Jane sighed, "I know."
Hoyt was definitely on her mind, but so was Maura. Maura and her shiny, shiny hair.
When Hoyt was dead—finally, dead—Jane lost it. She sobbed as Korsak held her, pulling her away from the body of the man she had just stabbed in the chest with a scalpel. He got her into the hallway outside the prison infirmary but then she suddenly wrenched free from his grasp, screaming Maura's name. She ran back into the room to find the doctor, trying to wipe the tears off her face but succeeding only in transferring Hoyt's blood to her cheekbones.
Maura, still suffering from the effects of the taser, stared as this wild-eyed, blood-smeared Jane barreled towards her. There was nothing to do but collapse onto the empty infirmary bed and hold each other and cry. Jane whispered over and over again, how sorry she was, how she never should have let Maura get anywhere near Hoyt. Maura told her it was okay, taking shaky breaths, stroking Jane's hair.
Somehow, Korsak got them both out of there. And then Frost was there too, and the two men shepherded them through the halls of the prison, out the door, and into the back of a squad car. Then it was a twenty-minute ride to the ER, and a twenty-minute wait to get into a tiny exam room.
By that time, Jane had calmed down considerably. Never one to show weakness, she fell back on years of practice at concealing her emotions and pulled herself together. Maura was quiet, and let Jane and the other detectives lead her into the room and into a chair. Jane sat down heavily next to her, head in her hands.
"Okay, you guys know the drill," said Korsak as he pulled up a stool and sat across from the two women. "The guys at the prison say that the surveillance cameras in the infirmary got the whole thing, but we have to go by the book."
Jane groaned and rubbed her eyes, but she didn't protest.
Korsak continued, as calmly as possible. "Just as soon as one of the crime scene techs can get here, we'll get pictures and get you processed. Then the ER docs can check you out. But until then, you can't clean up or change your clothes."
Jane nodded grimly, her mouth set in a straight line.
"No rape kit?" Maura said quietly, looking at her hands.
"No," barked Jane, "not even a question."
Korsak held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, eager to assuage the women's fears. "There's no reason to do one unless you request it."
"No," Jane growled again, and Maura shook her head stiffly.
Korsak stood. "I'm going to go see if I can find the techs. It won't be too much longer."
The door closed behind the sergeant, leaving Jane staring at her bloody hands. She didn't even know if it was her blood or Hoyt's. Or Maura's.
Suddenly feeling anxious, she stood up, wishing she had something to do. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—blood and tears had left tracks on her cheeks, and dried blood clung to the gashes on her forehead and her neck. Spots of blood dotted her clothes. It seemed to be everywhere.
Jane looked at Maura, whose clothes were only slightly less stained. Hoyt's scalpel had marked the doctor's neck too—the cut looked even deeper than Jane's, and a trickle of blood disappeared down her neck and underneath the collar of her dress. There was blood in her hair.
There was blood in Maura's hair.
Jane tried to look away, but everywhere she looked she could see the blood. Something snapped inside of her, and she felt her stomach lurch. Leaning over the sink she took a deep breath and tried to choke down the nausea but failed, and was violently sick. Gagging and sobbing again, she hid her face behind a curtain of hair until Maura pulled it away and tucked her unruly curls behind her ear. Handing the detective a paper towel, she pressed her cheek into Jane's shoulder and put a strong arm around her back.
"It's okay, Jane. We're okay, and Hoyt's dead."
Maura's voice was surprisingly calm, and Jane took strength from it. She felt her breathing begin to regulate. Rinsing out the sink, she suddenly felt very, very tired. But calmer, too. She slipped her arm around Maura's waist, anchoring herself.
"Sorry about that."
Maura didn't respond, just clutched Jane tighter.
Suddenly, Jane straightened and turned so that she was facing the doctor. "Maura, can we go away somewhere? Just the two of us?" Jane's eyes were wild again, as she clutched at Maura's hands and searched her face for signs of understanding. "I don't care where—I just want to go somewhere, and . . . be with you. And no one else. Okay? Can that be my birthday present?"
Maura smiled. And then, as though she knew just what would restore Jane's faith in the world, she laughed. Jane couldn't help but smile back, even as she looked at Maura quizzically.
"What's so funny?"
Maura gripped Jane's hands tightly. "I've been nagging you for weeks about what you want for your birthday—and this is when you finally tell me?"
Jane gave a half smile, as she recognized the incongruity of the situation. "Well, I just thought of it! I had a few other things on my mind, you know. Like, my own personal serial killer," she snorted. It was too soon for that joke, though, and unbidden tears filled her eyes.
Maura's smile faded, and she pulled Jane into a hug. Resting her head on the detective's shoulder, she sighed. "A birthday vacation is an excellent idea. And I think I know just the place."
For once, Jane did nothing but somehow everything got done. She zoned out as best she could while she was processed and stitched and bandaged, and then Barry drove her back to the station so she could give her statement. At some point she was separated from Maura, but Barry assured her that the doctor was being taken care of.
At the station, Jane showered and changed into the clothes she had stashed in her locker. Returning to her desk, she saw a text from Maura: Please stay at my house tonight. Neither one of us should be alone. Your mother is going to pick you up.
Sure enough, Angela Rizzoli arrived within moments. Shockingly, however, she didn't give Jane a hard time. She just hugged her.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, baby," Angela whispered.
"I know, Ma, me too."
"And on your birthday!"
Jane gave a dry laugh. "Hoyt's being dead is the best birthday present I could get."
Angela hugged her daughter tighter, and then stepped back.
"Jane, we had a surprise party planned—"
"Ma—" Jane grimaced, the muscles in her jaw visibly tense as she prepared for yet another fight with her mother.
But there was no need. "Let me finish!" Angela quickly interjected, "I decided another day would be best for the party." Jane sighed with relief, feeling one more piece of worry and stress fall away. She took a tired, shaky breath.
"Thanks, ma. Definitely another day."
"I haven't had time to take down the decorations in your apartment though, so don't be mad, okay?"
This time, Jane laughed for real. "That's fine. I don't plan on doing anything but sleep for the next, oh, day and a half, maybe."
Angela patted her shoulder. "Sounds like a good idea."
As it turned out, Jane slept for only about ten hours before Maura woke her up. After Angela had force fed her some lasagna and then managing to sneak in two beers, Jane had collapsed into Maura's guest bed. Maura had slept beside her, but apparently not for long, because she was already up and dressed and perfectly coiffed while Jane was trying to hide beneath the sheets.
"Everything's all arranged, Jane. You can sleep in the car, but we need to leave soon if we're going to get there before dark. I already packed for you."
"What? Where are we going?" Jane looked up, puzzled and sleepy.
"Maine. I rented us a cabin for a week. Well, it's really more than a cabin—it has all the amenities, and it's just a few steps away from the beach. There's plenty to do—hiking, boating, and the resort has an indoor pool—"
"Maura, stop." Jane shook her head and propped herself up on her elbows. "What about work?"
"I talked to Cavanaugh. He doesn't want to see us for at least ten days."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can Jane. This is what you wanted, remember?" Maura sat on the edge of the bed, looked into the detective's eyes, and stroked her hand. "Just forget about everything else and come away with me."
Jane smiled, a soft, gentle smile, and her eyes sparkled. Her fantasy was coming true.
After a long drive and an even longer sleep, the two women spent nearly the entire first day outdoors. Surprisingly, Maura seemed just as at home in jeans and hiking boots as she did in her designer dresses and heels, so the two women explored the rocky shores of the Maine coast until the muscles in their legs ached. The wind on the coast was strong, but so was the sun, and it felt amazing to give in to the elements and let the sound of the surf pound away their worries and fears.
And when Jane slid her hand into Maura's as they walked along the beach, feeling electricity flowing between the bare skin of their arms when they touched—that felt amazing too.
They ate dinner at a restaurant with an ocean view. For once, Jane said nothing when she saw the prices, and she let Maura hand over her credit card without any protest. After the meal, she excused herself to go to the restroom, and when she returned she found Maura standing on the outdoor balcony of the dining room, watching the waves in the deepening twilight. Jane moved silently behind her, and, holding her breath, she slipped her arms around Maura's waist and rested her head on the doctor's shoulder. She felt Maura melt into her, and the words slipped from her mouth in a moan before she could stop them:
"Mmm, you feel so good."
With her cheek next to Maura's, Jane felt the doctor smile. She couldn't see it, but she felt it, just the tiniest movement of her facial muscles. Muscles Maura would surely know the names of. And she felt Maura's arms atop her own, fingers tracing patterns on bare skin.
"Thank you for taking me here," whispered Jane, as she stared out into the ocean.
"My pleasure," murmured Maura. Turning her head, she placed a soft, lingering kiss on Jane's cheek. Jane closed her eyes, and then Maura's lips were gone and she had moved out of their embrace. Jane felt a sudden shock at the loss of contact, as she tried to figure out which part of her body had just been cut off. But then she caught Maura's eyes, and followed them, out of the restaurant and back to the car.
After long, hot showers, the two women settled themselves on the king-sized bed in their cabin. Jane felt more relaxed than she had in ages, as she stretched her long limbs over the smooth sheets.
Maura didn't seem quite so relaxed, however. In fact, as she scrolled through the guide to the movie channels on the television, she seemed downright anxious. She was talking a mile a minute—commenting on anything and everything that popped up on the screen.
Jane turned toward her and watched, a content smile on her face.
After awhile, Maura noticed.
"Why aren't you stopping me, Jane?"
"Stopping you, what?" Jane grinned even wider, knowing exactly what the doctor meant.
"Usually when I talk like this, you say 'later that same day,' or tell me that I'm 'officially ridiculous' and make me stop talking."
"Did you just use air quotes, Dr. Isles?"
"Yes!" Maura looked excited, but then wrinkled her brow. "Did I do it wrong?"
Jane laughed. "No, you did it perfectly right. And I only stop you from talking when I can tell you are rambling on because you don't want to make guesses about cases. Otherwise, I love listening to you talk. You know that. I think it's cute."
Maura looked slightly taken aback, and her cheeks reddened. "You do?"
"Of course I do. Otherwise, I don't think we'd be best friends."
Maura pondered that briefly, before adding with a smirk, "You mean, el-biffs?"
"Yeah, el-biffs." Jane put her hand on Maura's arm, watching the other woman shiver and take a deep breath.
"So, I guess the real question is," Jane continued, "what is it that you don't want to tell me right now—what are you avoiding by talking a mile a minute?"
Maura looked away for a brief moment, and then pointed the remote at the TV to turn it off. She sunk down on the bed turning onto her left side, facing the detective.
"Can I ask you a question, Jane?"
"Of course. Stop stalling."
Maura gave a short laugh, but it still took her a moment to get her thoughts together.
"Are we—are we really el-biffs? I mean, something more than best friends?" Maura looked at Jane, but didn't give her a chance to respond. "Because, sometimes, when you look at me, I think . . . I mean, you kind of look at me a lot. Not in a bad way, or anything . . . and, I think I only notice because I look at you quite a lot—" Flustered, Maura looked down and cleared her throat slightly before continuing, "You look at me more than just best friends do, don't you think? What are you thinking about when you look at me, Jane?"
Time stood still for just a moment while the two women looked into each other's eyes. A part of her was embarrassed—Jane didn't realize Maura had caught her looking, and was looking back. But for once, she didn't let the embarrassment overwhelm her. She just stared into Maura's eyes, and let the words come out.
"I'm thinking that I love you," she whispered.
Maura's breath caught, shocked by Jane's frank admission. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Jane's face.
Jane kept going. Finally, nothing else mattered but telling this woman how much she loved her.
"I'm thinking about this," she whispered, sliding her hand across Maura's stomach, spurred on as muscles contracted and Maura's eyes closed.
"And this," she growled, moving her hand upward to ghost lightly over Maura's breasts, just brushing the tips of her nipples, which had suddenly appeared beneath her tank top. Maura's back arched involuntarily, seeking more contact, but Jane's hand had already disappeared—this time, into her hair at the back of her neck.
"I think about your hair—I think about your hair a lot," she admitted, somewhat sheepishly, before propping herself up on her elbow and burying her face in Maura's neck.
"Tell me what you think about when you look at me, Maura—do you think the same things?" Jane's voice was liquid sex, and Maura was breathing so heavily she could only nod.
"Not talking a mile a minute now, are you Dr. Isles," Jane smirked as she pulled back to look into Maura's eyes.
The doctor shook her head. "Touch me again, Jane, please," Maura pleaded, her desperation evident in her voice.
Jane was happy to oblige. In one fluid motion, she rolled her body over Maura's, hovering over her, letting just their breasts touch. Maura groaned, but was silenced by Jane's mouth on hers. Letting Jane's tongue fill her mouth, her hips began to move of their own accord, and Jane lowered herself further, using her hip bone to put pressure at the juncture of Maura's legs.
The doctor groaned roughly. "Oooohhh, right there. Right there, Jane, don't stop." Jane settled into a rhythm, concentrating on the movement of her hips and the fleeting friction hitting her own center as she moved against Maura's leg. Maura looked more beautiful than ever, and even though she had never had experience with women before, Jane could see in the tightened muscles of Maura's face that she was close to release. It was unbelievable, to be able to bring this woman to orgasm. Jane stopped though, suddenly wanting . . . something else.
Maura opened her eyes, questioning, almost desperate. Jane moved quickly to explain. "Don't worry—I'll get you there" she whispered. Then she lifted her hips to fit her left hand between their bodies, sliding her fingers beneath Maura's clothes to touch soft, wet flesh. Pushing inside, she resumed her grinding motion, this time with her thumb. Maura gripped the sheets and slid herself further down the bed, pushing Jane inside of her as deep as she could. Jane pushed and stroked for only brief seconds before she felt Maura spasm, and then release a long, groaning breath. The doctor clutched Jane to her, arching her back impossibly high, before collapsing back onto the mattress, heart pounding. Jane slowly removed her hand, and then let her full weight cover Maura's body, before finding her lips once more.
Jane kept kissing her, as the intense pleasure of her orgasm faded. "This is what I will always be thinking about when I look at you, Maura," she said between kisses. "This."
"Oh, Jane, I love you so much. I don't think I'll ever be able to think about anything else but this, ever again," Maura added, breathlessly.
"We can't have that, Dr. Isles—what about your job? We don't want you to be too distracted," Jane teased.
"My job? Do I even have a job? Do you have a job?" Jane laughed, as Maura truly did look puzzled. But then, predictably, Dr. Isles did resurface, if just for a minute.
Lazily stroking Jane's hair, Maura murmured, "I'm amazed at how easily you found my g-spot," she said, bluntly, causing Jane to blush, "I guess that's one advantage of sex with a woman."
"What?" cried Jane, embarrassment showing plainly on her face.
"My g-spot." Maura wrinkled her brow, and explained, "Presumably, you since we are both women we know more about each other's bodies than men do. So you knew how to find my g-spot."
Jane sputtered, and flopped onto her back. "I didn't—I thought that was a myth!"
Now it was Maura's turn to look surprised. "No, it most certainly isn't a myth! Well, the idea that it's anything other than clitoral tissue is a myth, but it definitely exists—"
"Maura! You can stop talking now!"
Maura did not stop talking. "You mean, you didn't know you found it?" She sat up, realizing what that meant. "So, you haven't—you haven't had your g-spot stimulated?"
Jane disappeared under a pillow.
"Oh Jane, how much you've missed."
Maura removed the pillow covering Jane's head, the look on her face clearly predatory.
"Watch me, Jane," growled Maura in a low voice. Then she sat up and pulled off her tank top, exposing her pale, white breasts with their soft, pink nipples.
Jane gaped, eyes wide.
Throwing the tank top onto the floor, Maura put her hands to her hips and slid off her sleep shorts and her underwear, tossing them onto the floor as well. Before Jane knew what was happening, Maura was pulling at her arms, forcing her to sit up, and then, somehow, she was undressed.
Maura's skin met her skin—everywhere. Then Maura's tongue was on her right nipple, sucking, biting. Jane cried out, her eyes rolling back in her head, as Maura's fingers first met her soft folds. Maura moved her mouth across Jane's chest, circling her left nipple while her fingers on Jane's clit matched the motion of her tongue.
Unbelievably, embarrassingly fast, Jane came. Her hips spasmed upward. She screamed, almost in frustration, at not being able to hold back.
"I'm sorry, Maura," Jane groaned, "I couldn't stop it—I didn't—"
"Oh, I'm just getting started, detective, don't worry." Maura pushed Jane's curls off of her forehead, and looked into her eyes with a smirk. "This will just make it even easier."
"Wha—" Jane looked apprehensive, but only for a second, because then Maura's fingers were sliding into her, so, so deep, and she felt herself go rigid with anticipation of another impending orgasm.
Maura glided smoothly in and out, as Jane's hips moved upward of their own accord, meeting each stroke. Then, Maura slid down Jane's body and repositioned herself so as to hold down those pistoning hips while her tongue sought out Jane's clit.
Crying out again, Jane sucked in air and held her breath while Maura's mouth and fingers explored her. There was nothing else in the world, nothing but Maura and jets of pleasure hitting her from the inside out.
It was too much.
"Stoooooooppppp," Jane groaned, trying to sit up. Concerned, Maura's face popped up, and her free hand found Jane's.
"What's wrong, am I hurting you?" Maura wrinkled her brow and her fingers stilled.
"No, it doesn't hurt—God no—it's just—is it supposed to feel this way?" Jane looked panicked, as she breathed hard and looked down at Maura's now smiling, understanding face.
"Yes, Jane, it's supposed to feel this way." Repositioning herself yet again, Maura covered Jane's body with hers, leaving her fingers in Jane's warm wetness. Resting her forehead against the detective's she repeated, "Yes, it's supposed to feel this way. It's supposed to feel good, so good that you can hardly stand it. Like you're going to fall apart completely. It's okay to feel this way. Just let go Jane—just let go."
For once, Jane did. She groaned and fell back onto the bed, letting go. Maura's fingers began to move again, pushing and stretching and stroking. She kissed Jane, hard, and Jane kissed her back, until she could no longer find the strength to do anything but clench Maura's fingers inside her and breathe.
The build-up seemed to last forever—like she was going to be on that beautiful edge forever. But then instead of falling gently over the precipice she exploded, outward and upward, screaming through her release. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Complete and total release. At some point, warm fluid gushed out from between her legs, and she went rigid with panic again. But something inside her had broken, and the tough-as-nails detective disappeared, leaving only raw, torn-apart, and ecstatic Jane Rizzoli in her place.
Jane laughed, long and deep, tears leaking from her eyes. Laying back on her pillow, she finally opened her eyes and said, excitedly, "I squirted, Maura! Did you feel that? You made me squirt like a porn star!"
Then Maura laughed too, and they collapsed into each other's arms until sweet, sticky sleep overtook them.