No Talking
It's amazing how much is said even in the absence of words. How is it that she's spent the past few days talking with Casey without coming to any resolution, yet a massage, a shared bottle of wine on the couch, and a night spent laying in bed together, all with minimum conversation between them, had silenced all her chaotic thoughts? Reimagining of 4X13, Tears of a Clown.
Don't own anything … except for the mistakes. Please pardon flow, tone and pace, as well as any repetitive words and errors. Rather anxious about this piece; please (please) be kind.
There's something to be said about the wonders of escaping into oblivion.
The past half hour was a welcomed reprieve from the chaos and upheaval that had recently been dominating her life, giving her a much-needed respite from the constant thinking, worrying and decision-making that had been thrust upon her in the last few days. Though the nature of their relationship had flourished and evolved into a serious commitment despite the physical distance between them, the army man's three-day visit was supposed to have been a thrilling dalliance for long-separated lovers eager to reconnect and alleviate the frustration of built-up urges denied them by the separation. Only, instead of the buzz of excitement of sneaking off to be with him during work hours and the promise of a couple of long nights of repeated pleasure, the sojourn had given rise to acquiring a wife who cleans, markets, makes her breakfast and washes her thongs. As opposed to the relief of Casey's display of willingness for shared responsibility and the assurance of his entreaty for a lasting commitment, the glimpse of domesticity had greatly unsettled her.
Contrary to her earlier pronouncement, the methodical, controlled pressure of nimble fingers had lulled her into this state of mindlessness a while ago, the gentle yet steady weight of touch on her back and limbs unobtrusive enough to allow her to comfortably submit to relaxation.
Said pressure had been abating gradually for the past couple of minutes, the intrusion of alien hands confining themselves to the narrow expanse of her upper back. The subtle easing of the masseuse's ministrations had gently, soothingly roused her from the detachment from reality, her sluggish mind barely registering the cessation of movement altogether and the eventual termination of contact a few seconds later. The sensation of silk soon replaced human touch, the elicited familiar comfort of scent and warmth revealing to her muddled brain that one of Maura's robes had been draped over her, preserving her modesty and signifying the end of the therapeutic treatment.
She took a few moments to luxuriate in the final stage of total gratification the unscheduled massage had accorded her before her addled mind transitioned to complete awareness. She lazily braced her folded arms against the narrow bed to lift her upper body off, the swathed material falling naturally against her sides providing her the security of shielding her nakedness. Sparing a quick glance towards the two Thai women, whose eyes were averted from their clients to give them a modicum of privacy as they busied themselves restoring order to the invaded space, Jane slothfully realigned her torso and limbs into a sitting position, her extremities still heavy with relaxation.
She flashed a languid lopsided grin when chocolate met hazel, her drowsy gaze noting that her best friend mirrored her lethargic pose. Without the threat of strangers' eyes paying attention to her body, the detective didn't feel the urgency to cover herself up. With the flaps of the luxurious garment concealing the more intimate parts of her body, and the 'breakdown' of personal boundaries as a result of a natural progression of a deep friendship with the blonde over the years, she allowed another few seconds of idleness as she stared blankly at her companion's feet, prolonging the tranquility and calm.
The masseuses' movements, though still discreet and inconspicuous, as well as the more purposeful shifting of the medical examiner across her, had slowly pervaded her indolence, prompting her to some form of activity. With a feeble grunt, she halfheartedly made an effort to slip her arms into the sleeves of the robe, mimicking the doctor's actions.
Her body protesting having to exert energy, her gaze distractedly landed on Maura's chest, her hazy mind registering, but not fully comprehending, the inappropriateness of watching her friend donning her own robe. Whereas she was hunched, yet unable to fight off the effects of the massage, Maura sat up straight, habituated good posture too ingrained in her to sit any other way, not manifesting even the barest hint of self-consciousness or discomfort about her nudity.
Transfixed on the delicate bounce of abundant mounds of flesh, the canvas of milky skin not particularly an unfamiliar sight, Jane started when she heard the other woman clear her throat to command her attention. Brown orbs met amused golden ones, glinting with mirth and teasing, as well as a hint of curiosity and confusion.
Not seemingly fazed by being caught staring at – okay, ogling - her best friend, especially considering that they've grown comfortable seeing each other in all states of undress during the course of their friendship, the brunette gave a minute shrug of indifference.
"Sorry," came the husky apology, her voice raspier than usual due to misuse. She looked down at her own chest, brazenly cupping her comparably smaller breasts partially covered by silk, her face reflecting discontent. "I was just thinking …," she explained, finally securing the material around her as she met her friend's gaze, "I'm so glad Casey hasn't seen you naked," which prompted the blonde to quirk an eyebrow.
"I just …wonder sometimes if perhaps Casey," Jane elaborated to answer the silent query, "you know, wishes that I had bigger boobs." Her eyes darted back and forth between their bosoms to emphasize her point, hand gestures perpetuating the statement.
It wasn't until she spied Maura flick a glance towards the other occupants of the room that shame washed over the brunette, causing her eyes to widen and her body to tense in alarm. "I thought they don't understand English," she whispered with mortification through gritted teeth.
The physician refocused her attention on the agitated woman, her grin displaying affectionate amusement. "Relax, Jane," she calmly offered assurance, "their English is negligible at best." Slackly cinching the belt around her waist, the lapels of the robe draping rather carelessly over her endowed chest, thus giving the detective an enticing view of her generous cleavage, she gracefully removed herself from her perch atop the table.
Unimpeded by the conventions of social rules, which she usually strictly adhered to with other people, and propelled further by the intimacy of the "couples' massage" (the term used very loosely) still cloaking them, she closed the short distance and laid her hands on the tall woman's knees, a familiar gesture of comfort established throughout the years.
"I believe I've already told you that you're gorgeous, my friend," Maura repeated the sentiment, squeezing the hands she held in hers. "You're well-proportioned," she chided with a playful smirk, "and personally, I think you're a very attractive specimen of the female form."
The tone by which the medical examiner delivered her statement reminded Jane of her Ma's pep talks during the sporadic bouts of insecurity and inadequacy growing up, which made her roll her eyes at the other woman. Though tinted with a tinge of condescension and mockery, she appreciated the offer of assurance and comfort. She smiled warmly at her friend, hoping to convey how much she treasured her dearest friend.
She felt Maura tug at her hands, silently directing her to stand in order for the massage beds to be disassembled, and she emitted a groan of protest when she forced her legs to bear all her weight.
She was raising herself to her full height after having laid the centerpiece onto her coffee table, the final step in their efforts to restore order to her living room, when she heard the front door shut respectfully, signaling the departure of their foreign guests. She smiled affectionately as Maura turned to face her, their gazes meeting and holding for a few seconds.
"Well," the doctor softly broke the comfortable silence, rolling her shoulders and stretching agilely to realign her spine, "I suppose I should get going, too."
The announcement caused the brunette to frown in displeasure, shifting in place as she watched her friend. "You should stay," she objected, chocolate orbs aiding in pleading her request.
She felt the tension emanate from the smaller woman in waves, marring the serenity of the past couple of hours, and she shifted in place as she studied the indecision and hesitancy dancing across the ME's exquisite features. With a pang, she recalled those same endearing features crumple into anguish earlier today, the effort Maura exerted into preventing her tears from spilling only enhancing the ache in her chest as she had helplessly granted the doctor her escape.
She recognized and understood her friend's vacillation at the moment, acknowledging her desire to avoid a potential discussion of an issue that is so obviously causing her such distress, but she also knows that they both refrain from missing opportunities that allow them to spend time in each other's company.
She struggled with the instinct to eliminate the distance between them, resisting the intrinsic urge to gather Maura into a protective embrace.
"Still no talking," Jane promised in an attempt to convince her best friend to stay. "And there's a bottle of wine meant for us to share."
She held her breath as she waited for the blonde to come to a decision.
"No talking," Maura timidly sought confirmation, her voice cracking with controlled emotion.
"No talking," she repeated, brown eyes softening with affection. Her eyebrows lifted in question.
"In that case," the ME stated with her usual air of elegance and grace, taking a step towards the hallway leading to the bedroom, "I'd love to stay," eliciting a dimpled smile from the detective. "I better change into my clothes then."
The tall Italian woman had started moving as soon as it was evident she was going to have the pleasure of Maura's company for the night, reaching for the wine as she made her way to the kitchen. "There's no need to change," she dismissed, retrieving two glasses from the cupboard. "These robes of yours are sinfully comfortable," she added with a smirk, opening the bottle with some difficulty. "Don't tell me how much they cost," she said with a grunt, "because I have no intention of giving this back to you." Fingers not working properly as of yet, perhaps a residual effect of her recent prolonged idleness, she muttered a mild curse in frustration, and then felt the familiar warmth of hands covering hers.
She flashed the blonde an appreciative smile as she relegated the task of uncorking their drink to the other woman, laying her hands on the counter as the physician expertly completed the chore. She mirrored her grin as she took the proffered bottle and proceeded to pour its content into the glasses, tilting her head toward the couch to indicate where Maura should go. Wine in her right and both filled glasses secure in her dominant hand, she moved to join her friend.
She handed one glass to the seated woman then deposited the cylindrical burden onto the coffee table, taking a moderate sip of her wine before lowering herself next to the ME.
Silk on silk. Skin on skin. She could feel the warmth and softness of Maura pressed against her. And when she shifted to situate herself more comfortably, her right thigh rubbed along her friend's left, her nerve endings dancing at the sensation of two almost identical yet distinctly different textures. Both magnificently smooth, the heat and softness of creamy skin had tremendous lead over the expensive material, the lavishness of silk not even coming a close second to the feeling of Maura's flesh against her.
It was an odd experience for the brunette. To be this aware of her best friend. To be this close to her. In deference to Maura's personal space, though they've crossed many boundaries and had redefined what is acceptable behavior between friends, she's always acknowledged the doctor's self-preserving distance, respecting that degree of detachment, however almost non-existent when it came to Jane, that unfortunately the other woman had had to adopt borne out of continued neglect. True, the blonde has been receptive to physical and emotional affection, more welcoming from her best friend, but her high regard for the medical examiner prompted her to respect certain limitations.
As such, though they've been in much more 'invasive' situations, they've always maintained a reverential distance. Varying degrees of touch and physical closeness have continuously been present in their friendship, be it a hug, a comforting hand on the other's arm, fingers entwined, or sharing a bed. So, really, sitting on the couch isn't anything unusual, and neither being pressed against each other should be cause for alarm. She didn't think this proximity was offensive or obtrusive to her friend's sensibilities.
There was, however, something rather intimate about the sensation of Maura's bare thigh against hers, the additional luxury of silk lending itself to the charge of heightened awareness. Disquieting though it was, this familiar but habitually tampered down stirring of emotions and senses, the urge to remain connected overrode the instinctive need for some distance.
She took another sip of her wine as she turned observant eyes towards her companion, scanning the other woman's face and body for any hint of discomfort or uneasiness about their nearness. Sensing none, she bent forward to lay her glass on the table, and then leaned back into the cushions, resting some of her weight against the body next to her. Careful not to jostle the doctor, she shifted to get more comfortable, her neck cradled by the top of the backrest.
They sat in contemplative silence for a while, content to be lost in their own thoughts with the assuring refuge of the other's presence. The only disturbance to the stillness that had befallen them was the infrequent sips Maura took every few minutes.
Without much thought, Jane reached for the ME's left hand, their fingers naturally entwining, the weight of their clasped appendages absorbed by the blonde's toned, milky thigh. She released a sigh of satisfaction.
She felt Maura move to deposit her own burden onto the table without sacrificing much contact, waiting rather impatiently for her to resume their earlier position. Presently unhampered by any potential accidental spills, the detective slouched further into the sofa to allow her to rest her head atop the inviting shoulder adjacent to her, burrowing deeper into the warmth and softness against her. Almost immediately, she felt her companion's head press against hers.
The tiny sound of contentment the doctor emitted echoed her own.
She had just added the last of the pillows onto the stack on her side of the bed when she sensed Maura's presence enter the room. She smiled warmly as the blonde padded her way deeper into her private domain, noticing the freshly scrubbed face and the blond strands released from the confines of the ponytail. As the distance decreased even more, she could detect the scent of mint and the combined fragrance of cotton from her liquid soap and the subtle hint of vanilla from her hand moisturizer. Maura hadn't bothered to change into sleepwear, though the material now wrapped more securely around the feminine frame, its belt fastened tightly at her waist.
"Fresh sheets," she revealed unnecessarily, smoothing a hand across the unwrinkled linen for emphasis. When she had suggested they head to bed after an hour spent in relative albeit comfortable silence, she had recognized the frown of censure for what it was … the hesitation to climb into previously used sheets. And Maura had witnessed for herself earlier that day that Casey had indeed been on her bed. She understood the repulsion, had in fact been in the same position in the past, teasingly refusing to occupy any space or area wherein the blonde had engaged in recent sexual activity of any sort. So while the doctor conducted her nightly ablution, she had busied herself removing any trace of the army man from her room.
"Thank you," came the soft reply, a dimpled smile substantiating the warmth in pools of hazel.
"Don't mention it," she replied, playfully bumping into the shorter woman on her way out to the bathroom. "Hey," she called out without looking back, past experience telling her that the medical examiner was already slipping into her side of the bed, "you better not be asleep when I come back."
Swathed in darkness, save for the muted stream of light filtering through the shaded window, she stared unseeingly at the indiscriminate shapes dancing across the ceiling. The ever shifting shadows served to distract her from a deeper contemplation on the train of thoughts that had pervaded her brain as soon as she had crawled into bed beside a meditating Maura.
Having grown accustomed to a warm body sleeping next to her over the past days, she was acutely aware and sensitive to the vast differences between the figure pressed against her the previous night and the person sharing her bed presently. Whereas the former was all muscle and strength, with the thrill of sexual gratification accompanying them, his presence surrounding her almost to the point of suffocation, her current companion carried with her a calmness and serenity that soothed her soul. It had taken two evenings for her to get comfortable enough to fall into restful sleep with her lover.
It seems interesting to note that sleeping with Casey's arms around her felt rather stifling and the unconscious tangling or bumping of limbs was an annoyance she had had to endure, but the scant distance, wherein not even the full length of a ruler would fit, between the two females now was highly deplorable.
Her musings were interrupted by a heavy release of breath and an infinitesimal shift in position, signaling that meditation was over. The ME must be mentally sorting out her schedule for the following day, preparing herself for all she had to do. And in five minutes, the blonde was going to remove the pillow from below the stack and settle in for sleep, right knee slightly bent outward, right hand splayed on her stomach while its partner laid flat on the bed, thumb partially tucked under the weight of her thigh. It amuses her that she knows these little things about her best friend, and she smiled at the thought.
She sensed movement once again, and a second later, she felt the feather light brush of Maura's hand against the back of hers, a sensation so fleeting that had she not be so attuned to the other woman she would have missed it. She waited for another cue for a moment, keeping still until it came a mere few seconds later. At the second hesitant contact, Jane purposefully took the doctor's hand in hers, the warmth of her palm a balm against her scarred one. She felt a minute pressure in response, as well as an almost indiscernible wave of restlessness coming from her bedmate.
The detective gently moved to eliminate the gap between them, shifting their connected limbs to accommodate the desired contact (the request unverbalized though it were), her elbow resting against her friend's ribcage while Maura's lightly dug into her side. She felt the instantaneous easing of tension, coupled with the sigh of contentment that rang into the air.
She smiled into the darkness as Maura realigned their digits, their fingers entwining tightly to deepen their connection.
It's amazing how much is said even in the absence of words.
How is it that she's spent the past few days talking with Casey without coming to any resolution, yet a massage, a shared bottle of wine on the couch, and a night spent laying in bed together, all with minimum conversation between them, had silenced all her chaotic thoughts?
She was loath to give this all up, and the idea of having to sacrifice what she shares with Maura causes her heart to constrict.
"You're the biggest consideration that's keeping me from saying 'yes'," Jane articulated softly, reluctant to shatter the tranquility.
Maura's heart beat wildly in her chest at the declaration, and she had to close her eyes briefly to try to stem the tide of emotion that swept over her at the sentiment. The happiness brought about by the knowledge of her significant place in Jane's life battled furiously with the terrifying pain and sadness of their potential separation. It would be a tremendous loss if her best friend is no longer part of her daily life.
She tightened her grip on the hand she held but remained silent.
"I mean, I would hate to have to give up being a detective," the brunette continued in the same tone.
At that, the doctor's head rolled to the side, hazel orbs feasting on the silhouette of her closest friend's features bathed in muted beams of light.
"And though my family drives me crazy, it would be difficult to not spend time with them regularly. I mean I'd probably be relieved for the first three months," she added laughingly. "I suppose Ma would still be able to nag me over the phone, so I guess I wouldn't miss them as badly. But you …," she trailed off with a heavy sigh.
A lone tear escaped from the corner of her eye at the sorrow she detected in her friend's voice, and she sacrificed her vision of Jane as she moved to switch the bedside lamp on. She wanted – needed – to be able to look at the brunette properly when they had this conversation. Task completed, she lowered herself back onto the mattress, rolling to her side to face her companion, their clasped hands remaining between them as she brought her right hand to clutch Jane's bicep.
"I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life," the tall woman whispered huskily, the softness not being able to mask the anguish.
"I'd still be in your life if you stayed here," she responded just as quietly, just as brokenly.
"It wouldn't be the same," Jane countered.
She ran her free hand across her face then shifted to mirror the blonde's position, bending their connected arms to bring their hands near their chins, reaching for the dislodged hand to bind all appendages together in the narrow space between them.
"It won't be the same, Maur," she repeated.
"Even if you marry him, for as long as you're here in Boston, I'd be happy."
The detective shook her head in negation.
"Jane, I don't want to be the one keeping you from being with him. I truly appreciate that you value me this much, factoring our friendship into your decision, but I wouldn't, except of course for my earlier outburst, for which I apologize, ever dissuade you from marrying Casey, even if it would mean you having to leave Boston. I'd prefer it if you stayed here, though."
"I'm not willing to give you up, even for him," she voiced her earlier thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
"Being married to him, even if we do decide that he'd be the one to sacrifice his career … it just wouldn't be the same, Maur. Somehow I suspect that Casey wouldn't take too kindly to being kicked out of his own bed so that you and I can have sleepovers, or spend two or more evenings by himself while I hung out with you and most free weekends doing brunch and going shopping with you. I don't want to have to give any of those up."
They watched each other for a minute.
"Well," the physician broke the silence, "one way I could think of to ensure that we'll always be in each other's lives and be free to spend time with one another that wouldn't hurt or offend other people is for you to marry me instead."
Jane grinned at the statement.
"You'd hate being married to me," she stated laughingly, lifting her left hand to trace a finger along an exquisite cheekbone.
"You'd most likely drive me to insanity," the blonde rejoined with equal mirth.
They lapsed into another phase of silence as they each contemplated how life would be without the other.
"I'd be so miserable if you left."
Jane cupped the blonde's cheek, brown eyes watching the plethora of emotions she didn't bother to mask. She ran the tip of her tongue along her lips then leaned forward to press her mouth against Maura's.
The medical examiner lifted a hand to grasp the back of the other woman's neck, securing the connection, and then gave free rein over to her senses to luxuriate in the incomparable sensations brought forth by the experience of kissing Jane. Their lips moved against one another's, softly, curiously. Exploring, deepening their bond, redefining the parameters of their relationship.
Jane released the blonde's lips and pressed their foreheads together, expelling a sigh, her breath fanning across the other woman's face.
"Why'd you kiss me," Maura queried, leaning away to look into familiar orbs.
"Well, I can't very well marry you without having at least kissed you first, don't you think," the brunette answered with a playful smirk.
"No, I don't think that would be very wise," she agreed with a chuckle.
The detective spoke after a few seconds. "I've wondered how it would feel."
"To kiss a woman?"
"To kiss you," Jane corrected, lowering her hand to run her finger lightly alongside the lapels of Maura's robe, her nerve endings bursting into life at the softness and smoothness of the flesh it was exploring.
"And did you like it," she asked breathily.
"Maybe," came the teasing reply, the detective somewhat distracted as her gaze followed the path her finger had taken, tracing the pronounced swell of creamy flesh.
"Do you intend to do it again," Maura persisted despite her bedmate's obvious lack of attention.
"Maur ...,"she said lazily, establishing eye contact once more.
"Yes?"
"No talking," Jane chided, bridging the gap to capture Maura's lips once more.