AN: It's been a while since I wrote anything... much less fanfiction, but after rewatching the show and reading fanfiction the last few weeks I had a vision of Jane and Maura. Mostly of what Jane looked like in this story and if I could draw it I would have but I can't even draw stick figures. So here you go. Unedited and unbetad. -Wesley
Maura Isles was nothing if not persistent. Well she was many things and persistent was one of them, but in this moment her persistence was failing her as she tried to concentrate on her writing, the pen in her hand no longer gliding smoothly across the page as she made notes, but stuttered and started in leaps as the hand that was residing on her neck continued its trail of fire and soothing.
The hand belonged to Jane Rizzoli, calm and collected, quiet and present. Who at the moment had her right hand on Maura's neck, gently massaging circles at the base of Maura's hairline, while her left hand held open a book. Maura was slightly amazed at Jane's ability to turn the pages one handed because the right hand never left her neck, and Maura wasn't sure that she wanted to it anyway.
Abandoning the attempt at writing, Maura decided to sneak a gaze at Jane, and if Jane noticed that Maura had stopped writing her actions hadn't indicated so as she deftly used her pinky to changed the page and her head titled slightly away from Maura to better read the new page.
Unruly black curls cascaded down Jane's head and around her shoulders and Maura was struck, not for the first time, by the desire to run her fingers through those tresses and feel if they were as smooth in ecstasy and passion as they were in the soft moments of friendship. Her right arm was stretched between the space between them, fingers still moving lazily along the back of Maura's neck, waves of pleasure and electricity shooting throughout Maura's body.
They were once again outside the little café where the waiter spoke enough English for Jane to order coffee and chat, quickly making it a favourite spot of theirs. Jane had complained about her inability to order another drink when Maura was engrossed in her writing or in a book, and Jane didn't want to disturb Maura when she "was on a roll," as Jane had put it. Jane had done well in Paris, as many Parisians could speak English as well as a native speaker, and though Maura had noticed Jane struggle with the accent at first she quickly adapted. However now that they were in a small town in the country side, it was a bit more difficult for Jane. She insisted that she didn't mind, but Maura could see her friend struggle, so they came to this café.
The sun shone brightly that afternoon, highlighting the waves and creating shades of black and brown in Jane's hair. Jane's eyes were covered by the aviator's that she wore when she was in Boston, covering half of her face, but not enough to hide the smile that reached them.
Maura had always loved Jane's eyes. So dark and brown, bordering more to black than brown, and they could be the gentlest feature of Jane's face when she wanted them to be. Maura had rarely seen anything but compassion and love in Jane's eyes when they were directed at her, but she had seen the rage and fire in them directed at others and it made Maura fearful. Not because she thought Jane would ever hurt her, no Maura was certain that Jane would never intentionally hurt her, but because of the other things that the rage and fire brought forth in her.
She was in love with Jane, and she had been for years. She didn't come to that realization quickly, had even begun to fall for a number of men over the years, but looking back she now understood the reason that she had never given herself completely to the men she had dated since she had met Jane. It was not earth shattering, nor did it even phase Maura in the least to realize that the only person who she could see herself live the rest of her life with was Jane.
Swallowing thickly, she followed the bare forearm resting on her shoulder, to the white linen shirt that hung loosely on Jane's frame. The top three buttons were undone, and the lapels of the shirt hung lazily about Jane's chest, the ribbing of her white tank visible easily through the open shirt. Long legs... legs that should be illegal to be that long were crossed under and beside the table were covered to the knee in shorts that were loose fitting, but tight enough to show the definition in them.
Maura had had many inappropriate visions of those legs, even before she realized that she was in love with Jane. What power resided in them to chase a suspect, to run or jog alongside Maura, to bend and crouch at crime scenes, or to kneel in front of her nephew. But other things as well. To make love? To wrap around Maura, holding her in place while Maura made love to her.
In all, Jane was a vision. Her already dark skin was tanned from their days in France, 19 of them so far, with only 13 left Maura was worried about what would happen when they went back home... or... back to the US, because Boston was no longer Jane's home, and the heartbreak of that realization was infinitely more forceful than when Maura realized she was in love with Jane. Perhaps she had always know that she was in love, or perhaps it was what they had been moving towards for the last eight years, but realizing that they weren't going to be at crime scene's together anymore, to be in either of their homes together again, to not even be in the same city or state took her breath away in ragged waves of pain.
But the last 19 days Maura had begun to wonder if Jane felt the same way. There had always been touches and lingering gazes, but here, away from their friends and family and the rumors of what they were to each other, it had all taken on an intensity that Maura wasn't prepared for.
The touched were more possessive, from both of them. Jane's hand stayed on her lower back more often in public when Maura didn't have her arm entwined with Jane's as they walked somewhere. Jane's hand was in Maura's at each of the museums they had visited, Jane's lips lingered on Maura's ear when she bent to whisper a question, Jane's head tilted into Maura's lips when Maura bent her lips to Jane's ear to whisper her response. Though the suite in Paris had two rooms with two different beds, they had slept in the same bed every single night - and the one nap that Maura had indulged, and joined, Jane in. They woke wrapped in each other's arms, legs akimbo and tangled with the sheets in the hot French summer.
The trip to the country was not planned, and though Maura could easily have found accommodations with two beds, she had settled on a quaint bed and breakfast with a single queen size bed. It was smaller than her California King at home, but the size didn't matter because they no longer started the night on opposite sides of the mattress to end up together no matter the amount of sleep they got, they began together in the middle.
It seemed that Maura craved Jane as much in her sleep as she did while she was awake. It also seemed that Jane had the same craving for Maura.
"What are you staring at?" Maura was startled out of her reprieve when Jane's raspy voice spoke suddenly. She hadn't even noticed Jane put the book down, but the fingers were still on her neck, and she could feel her cheeks blush and warmth spread through her at having been caught. It wasn't an uncomfortable warmth either, it was the beginnings of arousal and Maura couldn't get enough of it.
Jane chuckled when Maura jumped at her question. Jane was so deeply in love with this woman, she didn't know if she could stand it any longer. The realization had snuck up on her almost without notice, it had happened the second day they had been in France and the second time that she had woken with Maura in her arms. Maura just fit. And Jane loved how Maura fit.
She loved, deeply and achingly, how they fit together. They had both been with others, and Jane had even considered marrying another, but nothing that had come before that second morning fit nearly half as well as Maura had, and Jane was surprised that she even considered others.
"Maur, honey, what's up?" She asked again, wondering what was going on in the beautiful head of the love of her life. For Jane knew now that Maura was the love of her life. She hadn't known what that meant before, but she knew now.
"Oh," Maura began with a stutter, a hitch in her voice as she took a sip of water. Jane wondered if she would be honest. While Maura couldn't lie, she was the queen of evasion, she was honest but deceptively so. "You." Honesty it was.
And it was then that Jane knew that Maura was as in love with her, as Jane was with Maura.
"Marry me." It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand. Because Jane knew what the answer would be before she didn't even stop to think about the question.
"What?" Maura's response was breathless, but it wasn't negatively so. But it still wasn't the answer Jane was expecting, and her fingers stilled on Maura's head, heart beating erratically and thunderously.
"Marry me?" This time Jane asked, but not uncertainly because they have been together for the longest time, and Jane knew that they belonged together. Yes, she knew that when they left France there would be issues with what was now a considerable distance, but Jane also knew that it would all work out in the end.
Because they fit as if they were made for each other, and that wasn't something that life could do anything about.
As Jane looked into Maura's hazel eyes, the green and gold competing for the sun's attention, she removed her sunglasses and resumed her ministrations on Maura's neck, the most beautiful eyes in the world softening at her touch.
"Jane." Her names breathed out slowly, as hazel eyes slid closed slowly and Maura's body leaned in closer to Jane, and Jane leaned closer to Maura, the magnetic attraction of their bodies rivaling the magnetic attraction of their souls.
"Maura," Jane breathes out just as slowly, sliding her hand from Maura's neck to her opposite shoulder pulling Maura closer. It wasn't any closer than they had been before, but it was the closest they'd been when they were both aware of what was happening.
The sounds of the café and the small town street faded away as forehead met forehead and Maura's hand came to rest on Jane's knee, sending chills down her spine and warmth through the rest of her.
They hadn't even kissed yet, and here was Jane proposing marriage.
She thought she should remedy that.
When Jane had made her utterance the entire world stopped. Maura could feel the way the earth stopped spinning, and if asked she would swear on her life that the people that had been on the street previously were thrown into space as the earth stopped spinning, and she wouldn't even break out in hives when she swore it.
She was rooted to the spot with those words... with that question that wasn't even a question but a statement that was so like Jane that Maura was surprised, genuinely and wholly surprised, that she hadn't seen it coming. But then again, she hadn't seen Jane Rizzoli coming into her life so why should she even be surprised.
She was not a fan of being surprised.
But for this, she might make an exception.
She knew that the answer to that non-question was yes, unequivocally yes, yes yes yes a thousand times, yes if she could quote Ms. Austen... but she hadn't even kissed Jane. But she didn't have to kiss Jane to know that kissing Jane wouldn't be surprising because it would feel like coming home. And she knew that when they made love, because it was no long if, it was when, and she hoped that when would come sooner rather than later, it would be much the same.
But she didn't have to wait for the surprise of learning what coming home felt like because suddenly Jane was no longer looking at her with those delicious brown eyes, she was kissing her and without her permission or any conscious thought her eyes slipped closed and she kissed Jane back.
There was safety in those lips.
Of course I'll marry you, Jane.
There was fire in the kiss.
Even though you didn't ask.
There was a bridge of passion and warmth and happiness and joy and finally coming home, and there was hope, and there was belonging.
Maura opened her lips and ran her tongue along Jane's lips and there was zero hesitation when Jane opened hers and there tongues met and Maura didn't need to make love to Jane to know that making love to Jane would be the best thing that had ever happened to her or to anyone.
Maura couldn't be sure how long the kiss went on, and when it broke because of a low whistle and a hoot of congratulations from someone who had found their way back to the street they were on, she wasn't even embarrassed.
How could she be when the most gorgeous woman in the world had just kissed her.
"Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I want you to marry me." Jane's already raspy, gravelly voice was deeper and inflamed and somehow, Maura wasn't sure, she was in Jane's arms with Jane's lips once again lingering on her ear, "Will you marry me?"
Maura didn't even let her finish asking before she said yes.
