I do not own the characters and I'm not making a profit.
Rated T to M
Caffeine With A Side Of Brown Eyes
AN: My dear Deckhand, too bad we can't go for coffee… *pouts*
Chapter Two:
"I ate hushpuppies today Bass." I wiggled on my stool to get more comfortable as I looked down at my tortoise, watching him eat from his dish. He ate uninterrupted, chomping down on his fruit, so I pretended that he knew what I was saying. That's the wonderful thing about having a tortoise for a pet, he can't run away from me when I tell him about my day, no matter how unpleasant it is. I took a sip from my wine, twirling the liquid around my tongue to appreciate the smoky blueberry undertones of the Merlot.
"Jane Rizzoli… such a nice name and it fits her. Such a strong name for a strong woman. Hmm, makes me think of Calamity Jane. You know Bass, the cowgirl outlaw from the Wild West." Bass continued to eat as I dreamed of my new friend with a six-shooter strapped to her waist, and cowboy boots on her feet, complete with jangling spurs. I smiled at the image, and felt a warmth building as I imagined her twirling her six-shooter on her finger just like a gunfighter.
"I wonder if she would ride a horse like she drives her car? I have never been so thankful to set foot on solid ground as I was when she dropped me back at the coffee shop to retrieve my car." I drained the last of the wine in a large sip, then hopped off the stool with a plop. My kitchen was quiet. Far too quiet for my liking, but after several weeks in my new house, I had become used to the stillness of the environment.
Rinsing out my glass, I set it in the dishwashing rack, then turned off the lights on my way out of the kitchen to head to bed. I wasn't very sleepy, but I didn't want to stay in my kitchen talking to my unresponsive tortoise. I suddenly saw myself ten years down the road still sitting in my kitchen, in my otherwise empty house, and talking to Bass about my day. The image made me uncomfortable.
I stepped into my library to get a different book to read before bed. When I moved into my house, the first room I unpacked and organized was the library. I knew it would be the first room I would use the most with the exception of the bedroom and the bathroom. I read title after title of the romance section, but I could find none appealing. Then I moved to the mystery section, and a few caught my eye, being old favorites, but I didn't feel like an enthralling mystery tonight.
"How pathetic," I muttered as I stepped back away from the stack of shelves.
As I turned, a dark red book cover with a lasso on the top of the spine caught my eye. I picked it up, not bothering to look at the cover. I had already chosen it without any difficult decisions, so standing and pondering whether or not to read it would be a waste of my time.
And I obviously wanted to read a western.
With my entertainment for the evening decided, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, watching the carpet squish under my feet as I stepped, and thinking about my far too many things that I shouldn't, the one object that kept coming to mind being the deep brown depths of Janes' eyes. The one thing I appreciated most about my new house was the plush carpeting throughout the entire house, the only place not carpeted being the front and garage entryways. And I had placed rugs over the ceramic tiles, making sure the carpet squares came with rubber grippers on the bottom, foreseeing one of my soon to be friends visiting and falling down because of a slippery rug.
I clapped my hands to turn on my bedroom light as I entered the room, my bedspread already turned down from earlier this morning. I left it down so it would appear more inviting to me at the end of the day, and hopefully I would be able to lay my head down and sleep a few hours tonight. Insomnia and I were long time friends, never apart for too long.
I'm sure that after so many years as a medical student resident and going two days straight without sleep, my body adjusted to require less sleep, and now that I don't have to run on that schedule, I've tried and tried to retune my body to sleep more hours, but it constantly fights and refuses me. That's another reason why my library was the first room to be unpacked when I arrived in Boston. I spend many hours with my nose buried in either my laptop or a paperback book.
I picked out my most comfortable set of pajamas and changed with a quick slip of cloth and silk, then I crawled into my turned down bed. I fluffed the pillows and laid back, cracking open my book and slipping on my glasses with the ease of a practiced routine. Releasing a sigh, I glanced at the cover once more, then began to read the first page.
After reading a few paragraphs, I quickly became immersed in the voice of the character-a woman of the West, kicked out of her family for her manly ways and left to fend for herself. She befriended another woman, also out on her own, and the pair teamed up to survive, figuring two women were less likely to get accosted by the locals then a lone woman with not a man in sight. The dialogue between the characters led me to start to believe there was more than just a deep friendship merging the two women together. And by page one-hundred, I learned of the lead character's feelings of love for her companion, and her constant comparisons of her feelings to the changing seasons.
Shortly after my discovery, my eyes started to droop. With a sigh, I set down my book and slipped further beneath the soft covers. I clapped out the light then turned onto my side and stared at the wall until sleep took me under. I imagined what it would be like to have a companion in bed with me, someone like the cowgirl in my story. I let my heavy eyelids droop once again as I thought of Jane Rizzoli in a cowboy hat and leather chaps. With a smile on my lips, I fell asleep.
The alarm buzzed far too early the next day, rousing me from dreams of horses, campfires, and making love in a tent to a brown-eyed woman. I slapped off the alarm with a groan, and wasn't surprised by the slick warmth coating my upper thighs as I rolled back over onto my side. I laid in my bed until the snooze alarm beeped exactly seven minutes later.
With a groan, I tossed back the covers and climbed out of my soft bed. I gathered my clothes for the day and stepped into my master bathroom, complete with Jacuzzi tub and a set of three shower heads. Flipping on the radio as I walked by, I set my clothes on the specified rack, then stripped out of my pajamas. Using voice command, I set the shower water temperature at one-fifteen Fahrenheit, then stepped under the triple spray with a weary sigh.
The water felt so good as it cascaded down my neck and back, warming and loosening my muscles that knotted while I slept curled up tight. I smiled as I used my Gardenia scented soap to shave my legs, and thought about Jane Rizzoli. I would see her today at work. A gut feeling told me that I could be sure of it. I rinsed off as I thought about how I would fix my hair. I wasn't even sure if she would notice my hair. Had she noticed it yesterday? I wandered and wasn't sure I knew.
I dried and dressed quickly, deciding that whether or not Jane noticed my hair didn't really matter because she's my colleague and will probably compliment me just to be nice. I didn't want to be late because I abhorred tardiness. I checked on Bass and made sure he was fed and watered, then packed up my briefcase quickly.
While slipping on my heels, I ran through my daily schedule. I have an autopsy scheduled for early afternoon, but nothing but paperwork until then. So my morning was essentially free until thirteen hundred hours. As I stood from making my bed covers folded just as they were before I slipped under them, a thought occurred to me.
"I'll ask Jane to go for coffee again, and I know she likes that shop not far from the station," I muttered as I locked up my house, and eased into my Mercedes. My bright green eyes met my own in the rearview mirror. I saw doubt in my normally confident eyes.
"Why would she want to spend time with you again?" I asked my car as I backed out of my garage, flicking the close switch on the flip down visor, then changing gears to drive up the street toward the station. My reflection in my side window haunted me, almost telling me to quit being scared of myself. Jane asked me to go to dinner with her didn't she?
"Yes, she did and she seemed to enjoy my company. Quit being a ninny and ask her." With a nod at my reflection, I drove the rest of the way to the station in silence.
A/N: A quick update because a brilliant person said to write when the urge struck, and it struck with the power of Zeus today. Reap the benefits my dear readers. :+)