A/N so hey, this is like really late so sorry about that
y'all probably don't even remember reading this shit the first time
"Oh come on Maur, that was kinda funny at least!"
"You know just as well as I do that your comment was not amusing, Jane Clementine Rizzoli!" Maura said, with such intensity and conviction that Jane thought for a second that she had crossed a major line for the doctor. "I'm sorry Maur, I don't mean to be an ass-" Maura silenced her, "And, the reason you are going to the gay bar is because it's your job, de-tec-tive." Hearing the doctor annunciate her title sent a shiver up Jane's spine. Somehow, the honey blonde sliced the word into three distinct sections with her tongue, those are called syllables, asshole, Jane thought, before returning to her musing of the doctor, articulating every plosive as it escaped from her mouth in such a way that when the sound landed in Jane's ear, it was laced with raw energy and desire. "Uh…" Jane stuttered, momentarily distracted by the suggestiveness she could almost taste in Maura's words. It had always been like that, though. The doctor would say something, and Jane would think it the most desirable thing in the world. She'd always suspected Maura to have been with other women in the past. Or maybe just one. In college. On a dare, or purely for the purpose of experimentation. They say people do that; experiment. Of course, Jane imagined, Maura Isles would be the girl who kisses a girl to prove a hypothesis. "Jane," Maura said, putting her hand to the detective's arm, the warmth of her touch snapping the brunette out of her daze. Her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, made worse by the fact that she was sure the observant doctor would see the sticky redness crawl up her body, and be able to extrapolate why it was there. "Are you alright? You've been sitting there for a few minutes without saying anything," Maura looked into Jane's face and placed a hand on her cheek, "and you seem to be exhibiting signs of idiopathic craniofacial erythema."
"uhh.. Maur, I'm fine. There's no idiopathetic craniotomy eery thelma, or… whatever. I'm just tired. It's been a long day."
"Idiopathic craniofacial erythema, Jane. It means that you have a severe case of-" Maura paused to build faux suspense- "blushing." As she used the commonplace term for Jane's condition, she maintained the sense of drama and urgency one would expect to hear from a surgeon delivering bad news, before giggling at her attempted humour.
"Ha, ha. Very funny, Doc." Jane growled, though she couldn't deny that the doctor's laughter was definitely forgivable. "Anyway Maur," Jane continued, needing her friend's attention to be drawn away from her embarrassment, "I'm pretty beat. I think I'll just go to sleep. Y'know, big day tomorrow, what with all of the lesbianism and the potential murderers out there."
Jane didn't feel Maura move as she settled herself comfortably in bed. She was relieved that it was just the right temperature inside that she wouldn't have to side under the covers, or have to bother about getting changed. The thought of kicking her best friend out of the bed- even momentarily-gave Jane Rizzoli the strangely unnerving sensation that she might never come back.
The next morning, Jane was surprised to find Maura still snugly lying in bed. For a moment, everything that Maura had confessed the night before was forgotten, and Jane was content to be there with the peaceful looking doctor- that is, until Jo Friday took it upon herself wake up the graceful woman on the left side of the bed.
"It's just me, Jo," Maura mumbled, coaxing herself out of slumber, and the dog promptly left the bed. "I must have fallen asleep while I was meditating," she continued- this time addressing Jane. It was almost as though she needed to convince the detective that she had no ulterior motives to spending the night.
The pair, who were both sitting up right now; Maura in an elegant and poised position- likely the result of her past ballet education- and Jane, who was slumped and lethargic, and looked as though she might be watching ballet.
"Well," Maura started, wanting to remind the detective about her new undercover assignment "maybe we should take a look and see if anybody else has signed up to hook into you…"
That's when Jane remembered. Last night. In bed. Maura. Women. Shit. She gave an exasperated sigh and, blowing a single dark curl away from her face, begun correcting the genius sitting beside her. "that's not… how you say it. It's hook up with you"
Maura had to stop herself from smirking- not that the tired detective would really have noticed; sleep still lounging in her eyes. This might be the perfect opportunity to have some fun with Jane. Not the most fun she could have with the detective in bed, but good enough. For now. The thought slipped in and out of Maura's mind in an instant. It was one she'd had several times before, and, although the doctor couldn't lie, exactly, she was perfectly happy to leave that particular piece of information in the dark from a certain detective. But that didn't mean she couldn't play with her a little bit.
"Hook up with you," Maura repeated, almost like a question. "Really?" Jane nodded, pleased that there were things she could teach a doctor.
"But I thought you didn't want to pretend to be gay." Maura watched as she saw the realisation sink into Jane's face. She could almost smell the moment that Jane begun to replay the entire conversation in her mind it was so palpable.
"Oh come on Jane, it was kinda funny at least," the doctor whispered, happy to be able to recycle the detective's sarcastic retort from the night before. Jane looked less than amused.
"Well aren't you clever," she said- her face flat and devoid of emotion "with your-" Jane very nearly completed another sarcastic snap at the doctor before she was interrupted by the very woman she'd planned on insulting.
"With my genius-level IQ? Why, yes. I do believe the term 'clever' could be an accurate representation of my mental faculties."
You win this round, Doc, thought the brunette. But she would never willingly admit to defeat- at least… not verbally, so instead she ended the morning's conversation with a simple "whatever. Let's just get ready for work" and promptly left the bed.