There were rules to movie night.
To avoid arguments-and Jane cheating at Rock, Paper, Scissors again—they took turns alternating who got to pick the movie they would watch and who got to choose the snacks they would eat.
Which is how they ended up watching the newest Sharknado while eating Imperial Osetra Caviar from Russia on crisp thinly sliced gently buttered artisan bread with an a crisp white French Burgundy wine. And La Belle et la Bête while eating delivery Meat Lover's pizza and drinking cheap beer.
To avoid shop talk—and Maura giving far too vivid descriptions of the fascinating contents of her last cadaver's large intestine again—they had forbidden any mention of work at all.
Which is how they ended up in a fiery hot debate complete with PowerPoint Presentations until four in the morning over whether or not Batman could actually be classified as a 'superhero', seen as he didn't have any special powers.
To avoid endless interruptions—and successfully dodge everyone from well-meaning but insanity inducing mothers, to colleagues with their delusional belief that everyone was absolutely as interested in the endless epic sagas of their bizarre love lives as they were, to telemarketers from India—they screened all their calls draconically, refused to answer the doorbell, and randomly shifted movie night to another day of the week to avoid being tracked down by anyone they actually knew.
Which is how they actually got to watch their movies and enjoy—well, most of the time, there was that food truck incident-eating their snacks every movie night.
Sure, they could have just gone out to the nearest fake velvet seated theater and sit packed in like sardines eating over-priced and over-buttered popcorn while trying to hear poorly written dialogue over whining kids and giggling idiot teens making selfies of themselves while they made out in the dark and just saved themselves all the trouble of having to come up with rules and clever mother avoidance tactics just to catch a flick and some munchies. But they didn't. And never would.
Because the whole point of movie night, although neither of them would ever admit it, wasn't actually to watch a movie or eat snacks.
The point of movie night was for Maura to watch Jane sprawl with her typical Italian graceful sloppiness across the leather couch, her wild black curls messy across the feather pillow she always stole from Maura's bed and listen to her get outrageously worked up over glittering boy vampires, wickedly cheer on the Dark Side or groan happily over cheesy old Broadway musicals.
And the point of movie night was for Jane to watch Maura tuck herself elegantly into a softly woven Spanish throw, her manicured fingers delicately grasping a fine crystal wine glass or a cheap plastic red cup and listen to her get outrageously worked up over writers' complete disregard to laws of physics, primly correct blatant anachronisms throughout a plot, or sigh happily over sappy Hallmark romances.
So, while they had mischievous delight in messing with each other occasionally by deliberately choosing the worst movies or the weirdest food they could order off the internet, and while they definitely enjoyed ferociously debating the most outrageous topics either of these occasionally provoked at times, what actually made the nights worth all the extra effort was the way Jane's dark eyes would brighten and the way Maura's laughter would become almost girlish giggles.
Because movie night had never really been about movies or snacks at all.
And they had only made the rules so they could finally have enough time to be free of them.