Detective Jane Rizzoli was a top-tier investigator. Intelligent, clever, calculating, and passionate, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. She was determined, too, possibly to a fault. Armed with a tough exterior thanks to a less than pleasant, bullied childhood (after all, it's not like she gave herself the nickname "Roly Poly Rizzoli"), as well as her badge and gun, it might be tempting to say that while she wasn't 100% in all the aspects of her job (no one could be), she didn't necessarily lack in any fields, either.
But if you knew her, truly knew her and were allowed a glimpse into her life, you'd quickly come to the conclusion that she had one weakness: Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
The two were astronomically opposite, all the way from personality to dress to hair colour. Yet what's that saying about opposites? Oh yes. They attract. And these two were no exception to the steadfast rule.
It would be hard to determine upon revision of their lives which one fell first. The easiest answer is that they found themselves neck deep in it without even realizing how far they'd come; that they'd both fallen at the same time. It started out slowly, of course. It takes time to build the kind of trust and forgiveness required in any relationship. They jumped into being best friends, confiding in each other about troubles and triumphs, friends and, yes, lovers. They gave each other advice about the various men they were involved with, not registering immediately that the dislike of the other's possible suitors had less to do with the men and more to do with the fact that it wasn't one of them.
They'd been fighting the feelings for so long by the time that night came. They'd been in denial, constantly assuring themselves that they were just being a great best friend. After all, neither of them had really had a best friend before, they had no reliable data to suggest otherwise. So they bottled it up separately, desperate for things to just stay as they were without complication for fear of loss. Because that was what scared them the most: losing each other. That night was the first night that they each started to accept their lot. They decided that though they may be harbouring more than friendly feelings toward the other, that it didn't mean anything. As long as they didn't act on it, everything would stay the same.
And that's how early on a Friday morning, fresh from a morning run and shower, Jane Rizzoli found herself in her bathroom, steam swirling around her and clad only in a towel, whispering the words "I'm in love with Maura Isles" to herself in the mirror while smiling like she'd won the lottery.
Maura, not to defy her natural personality and come to such a deep conclusion while doing something so mundane as standing in her bathroom, stopped dead in her movements of a Y-incision during an autopsy. Her lips curled up at the corners into a small grin as her head tilted to the side so that she could speak with crystalline clarity into the microphone, "I've fallen in love with Jane Rizzoli."
Those moments were so beautiful, so lightening in the way that their hearts seemed to shrug off the weight that had been holding them down. They could feel it as much as they liked now; they'd given themselves permission (albeit limited permission) to feel what they'd been refusing to acknowledge for the longest of times.
Suffice it to say, emotions were running high. And what does alcohol do? Why, it magnifies what you're feeling. So this particular Friday, the one on which Maura and Jane had planned to go to a nightclub after work, they found themselves dancing together on the floor after only two drinks. Hips swaying, hands brushing fabric and skin with lightning heat and speed, it was only a matter of time. Eyes reserved solely for the best friend. The wanna be lover. And then hands were no longer ghosting across backs and along arms, they were getting more confident, pushing the risk factor to new boundaries as fingers caressed hips and sides right by breasts.
The beat of the monotonous club music pulsed through them, hair flying everywhere as their small square of the club got hotter and more sweltering. They each felt the arousal within themselves, recognized the signs of lust. All Maura could concentrate on were Jane's hips, moving rhythmically with the soundtrack. She could only stare as she danced with her friend, couldn't even bare to think, and no random facts found themselves waiting restlessly on the doctor's tongue. Jane could barely stand it. She was looking down at Maura, locking her eyes on the examiner's and though she figured it was probably the alcohol or the heat making her see things, she could have sworn she saw the fiery blaze in Maura's eyes. That desperate look of want and need and to just let go.
Like any good detective, Jane always went with her gut. Sometimes, without even realizing it. One minute, Jane's hands were in the air, helping her sway to the music, and in the next, they were firmly planted on Maura's waist, steadily bringing the doctor closer to Jane's body until their bodies were flush against each other. Maura was frozen, peering up at the detective through a thick mess of light hair. If she moved, she might spontaneously combust. It was too much; too much heat, too much want, too much Jane.
But Jane wasn't all there. Physically, she was very much there, but there was no calculation occurring in her mind, no semblance of the careful detective present in her mind. She just went with her instinct and leaned forward, capturing the shorter woman's lips in a hot-mess of a kiss, oozing with passion and need with that hint of a loss of self control.
Maura's mind went blank the moment their lips touched, the instant heat of the long-denied chemical reaction sweeping away all the facts and figures. She reached her arms around Jane's neck, determined not to let go, not to let this be a one-time occurrence. Hands at her waist were moving to her back in slow, agonizingly arousing circles. And then Jane's tongue was there, tracing her bottom lip, and it was like so many of her fantasies coming true when she let her in. She couldn't help but tangle her fingers in the cascade of dark hair, tugging softly, yet firmly in want.
They were still in the middle of the darkened club's dance floor, but what Jane hoped to happen would not be considered an appropriate public display of affection. Her fingers toyed with the hem of Maura's shirt, wanting to get rid of a layer between their bodies. What she really wanted was to push Maura up against one of the walls and have her wicked way with her. But she was having trouble focusing, largely in part due to Maura's spectacular breasts pressing against hers, and her fingers sexing up her hair. Never mind the full on kissing that was taking Jane's breath away.
She needed to breathe. Maura needed to breathe so badly, but she couldn't just stop kissing Jane. She needed to breathe, but she needed to never stop kissing the detective at the same time. She was so torn between never wanting it to end and needing oxygen to sustain their interactions. With anybody else, she'd never had this dilemma. Garrett or Ian, neither of them had ever inspired this irrational need to forgo a crucial necessity of life. Neither of them were Jane. Maura pushed against Jane, forcing the two of them towards the back corner of the club, never once breaking contact.
Jane's back hit the wall and a little gasp escaped her parted lips, ghosting across Maura's. The doctor took the opportunity to suck in as much oxygen as she could. The hands on her back pulled her even closer than before and then Jane was the one pressing Maura against the wall. And Jane's lips were no longer firmly attached to her own, but trailing a path of seductive kisses across her jawline and down to her neck. Maura could feel her kiss and nip and lick at the skin by the hollow of her collarbone. She let out a soft moan and felt Jane smile against her skin.
The DJ faded the dub step remix into something a lot more hardcore rock and the club's strobe lighting came into play. They pulled apart in their no longer secluded and darkened corner, gasping for breath while staring deep into each other's eyes. Cheeks flushed with arousal, lips curving into gentle smiles, they met for another kiss; chaste this time. And then Maura grasped Jane's strong fingers and left the club, dragging her detective along behind her.