It had been another long day for the medical examiner, racing through a mountain of paperwork and five autopsies in order to get back to the house in time for Thursday night dinner. Every Thursday, Jane cooks an amazing Italian feast and then they settle onto the couch together, lying with their bodies flush as they watched a documentary or action flick.
Maura felt the reassuring touch of Jane's fingers on her back, tracing patterns across her clothed skin; a habit the detective had developed over the past month. Always comforting, always firm and gentle. Every other night, Maura simply embraced the touch, but tonight she almost startled. There seemed to be a rhythm, a pattern to the swirls across her skin. She fought her drooping eyelids to concentrate on the tracings.
Are those letters? She wondered, brow furrowing. The same letters repeating over and over again. Her body tensed as her mind figured out what they were spelling out.
I love you. Her heartbeat quickened and her breath caught in her throat for a minute. She felt the need to say something, her mouth was open and words were ready to spill from her lips and then she noticed a change in the pattern, different letters arranging themselves on her back. Refrigerator. Unable to help herself, she chuckled from her place on the couch. The kind of full-body laughter that can't be contained. She turned her head to stare at Jane, eyes bright with mirth, because the fingers stopped tracing letters.
"What's so funny?" Jane asked, face set in incomprehension.
"Really, Jane?" Maura replied. She laughed again. "Refrigerator?"
The detective blushed and lowered her eyes. "I didn't think you noticed what I was writing."
Maura smiled, showing off her teeth. "I love you, too."
