"Maura, you gotta get better creamer," Jane, in running shorts and a sports bra, sat on the counter of the kitchen island. It was an early Saturday morning, two weeks after she and Maura had slept together for the second time, and she lifted a piping hot cup of coffee to her lips before grimacing at the taste.

"I like my homemade almond milk creamer," Maura offered simply, grabbing the pitcher of it for her own iced coffee from the fridge. She patted her still-perspiring face with the damp cloth at her neck. She was dressed much the same as Jane, though her midriff was covered by a tank top bought at her local sportswear boutique.

"Creamer should be made from cream, baby girl. Not fake milk that tastes like cardboard juice," replied the detective, shivering.

"Oh, mmhmm," Maura wondered at her friend's penchant for imagery before laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. She then finally flushed at the pet name, something she had been called by Jane often and before they ever laid together, but something that, when Jane had said it to her just a few nights ago during a particularly intimate moment, set her blood to pleasantly rolling.

They had had sex almost every night in the two weeks since that afternoon. Every time Maura watched Jane's hips swing with her legs that hung off the counter's edge, she was reminded that she did in fact find a… belt more suitable for their bedroom bonding time. Jane adjusted to it like only she could, all of that softball torque coming to marvelous use whenever they fell into bed. It allowed her to be more attentive with her hands, her lips. And the heavy settling of her body on top of Maura's combined with the toy between her hips? well. It did wonders for their friendship. But every time Jane finished, and wanted to talk, to share, Maura pushed her away: pretended to be sleepy, or suddenly needed to make a work call.

"What are you thinkin' about, huh?" Jane asked, smiling, her face patient and indulgent. Maura blushed.

"That I like everything about you," she admitted, the statement almost more true than the thoughts occupying her.

"Yeah? Even that I hate your coffee creamer?" the detective laughed and shoved herself off of the counter, legs wobbly, but the post-run feeling was satisfying. She walked over to Maura, making sure to stop before the flighty doctor pushed her away. Much to her pleasure, she did the opposite and wrapped her arms around her.

"My statement still stands: I like everything about you," said Maura. She laid her head on Jane's shoulder.

"Then why are we doin' this, Maura? Sneakin' around like this?" Jane asked; irritation seeped into her voice, but it didn't overpower the affection.

"Because I genuinely like Jack, Jane. He and I have been building a life together; I've chaperoned his daughter's field trips, for goodness' sake. It's not so easy to dismantle any of that."

Jane stiffened. "You don't seem to be thinking about any of that while we're fucking," her words were hard, and they caused Maura to pull back and look her full in the face.

"I don't really think of anything except how you're making me feel in those moments, Jane," Maura said seriously, as though it were obvious.

"Yeah, well, I wish you'd think about how I make you feel when we're NOT doing that. How I make you feel when we're at work, or goin' on a run, for chrissakes," the detective bit back. She removed her arms from around the other woman and looked away from her.

"Please, don't be mad at me. That's not what I need right now," Maura pleaded, placing a hand on her friend's bicep.

Jane sighed. She really couldn't resist. "I'm not mad. Just… frustrated. Sometimes I feel like you're not listening."

"I am. I'm listening. I promise," Maura assured her.

"Alright. What are you doing tonight? You wanna grab a bite? Maybe catch a movie or somethin'?"

"I've got an Isles Foundation gala I have to go to. Otherwise I would," Maura said, sadness infusing her words.

"Sounds like loads of fun."

"Oh I'm sure I would rather be anywhere else. But, my mother and father are away, and I've already agreed to go in their place."

"Ok. Well, do me a favor?"

"Of course, what do you need?"

"Think about what we've been talking about. I want to be around, Maura. I ain't gonna just up and leave. But I want an answer to it all. Just take some you-time and think about how you want me to be in your life."

"I will. I promise," with that, Maura put her head down, until Jane rubbed her back in acquiescence.

"Good. Thank you," Jane replied, and kissed Maura with a gentleness that made the medical examiner nervous. She accepted it, however, in light of how it sent a shock from her toes to her nose. "I love you, Maura. I really do."

"I love you too," Maura said, a little dazed from the words.

"I gotta go; Frankie needs my help with some paperwork. We're trying to get all his life insurance stuff in order."

Maura was further sobered by the reminder of her Rizzolis' volatile profession. She suddenly didn't want Jane to leave. "Ok. Call me later?"

"Sure," was the reply right before a shut front door. She grabbed Jane's mug, poured the little bit of coffee left down the sink drain, and went upstairs to prepare for the day.


Maura saw in Jack's face that he thought her stunning in her black Givenchy evening gown, backless and sleeveless. She knew this because his response upon seeing her was to grab her and force his mouth on hers in one of the most unpleasant kisses of her life. His mint was too strong, his aftershave burned on her lips, and his stubble scratched where she was used to feeling the softness of Jane.

But, she did appreciate his appreciation. He walked her to his car, and she sensed his arousal – no doubt piqued by her smoky eye and diamond pendant slung provocatively low. When he opened her door for her and took her hand to lower her in the cab, she watched him marvel at the stones on her wrist as well. She knew he was reminded of her wealth then, and she was grateful that it neither deterred him nor encouraged him to take advantage of her.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Maura. Really. Sometimes I forget just how hot my girlfriend is," he chuckled nervously, and Maura winced at the way he compensated for that nervousness by trying to own her in his language.

She opted for "thank you," and took his hand while he drove the short distance to the hotel where the gala was being held.

When they arrived, she was on his arm, and when familiar faces greeted her, he latched tighter. While they mingled, half the time he followed her closely behind, and the other half he spent controlling conversations with his charm. After dinner and the presentation of awards to the foundation's most generous donors, he insisted that they dance together, be seen together. After all, he said, attending events like this was going to be their future, and the sooner that Maura's colleagues got to know him (or at least his face), the better.


When they arrived back to her home, she insisted that she was too tired to stay up and told him to drive back safely before he could plead to stay.

"Hey, Sis, you bring the music?" Tommy Rizzoli stood in the doorway of his modest one bedroom apartment, baby paraphernalia scattered here and there, but it was mostly clean.

Jane held up her computer bag and a stack of CDs as she waited to be let in. "Took me awhile to dig these out of storage at Ma's, but most of it I have on my laptop. What made you want to do this, huh?"

He stepped aside and let her pass, and they looked like different angles on the same person. Tommy was the only sibling that had received their mother's brown hair, but other than that, he and his sister shared long bones, toned muscles, and killer smiles. They also shared an addictive personality; his vice alcohol, hers work. "I sold a lot of my copies of our old records when I was drinkin'," he admitted. "Some I haven't been able to find, some I haven't been able to afford."

When their parents hit a rough patch, the many times that it happened during their growing up, Frankie, Jane, and Tommy shared music. Many genres, each of them had their favorites, but they all loved to sit together and just listen. Today he had asked for the perennials; they had decided they would do the deep cuts in the following weeks. He brought out his windows laptop, she set up her Macbook, and the transfer began.

"You and Maura not hangin' out tonight? Isn't Saturday like your guys' day?" He asked, walking back from the small kitchen and to the couch, offering her a can of coke.

"Thanks, Tom, that'll hit the spot," Jane accepted gratefully and took a sip, "We went for a run this morning. She's goin' to some fancy fundraiser thing tonight, I guess."

"You didn't go with her?" Tommy asked, setting up their connection and organizing the compact discs in the order that he wanted to import them. He sat next to her on the sofa, close enough for their knees to touch.

"Nah, not my thing," Jane replied, typing away. "Well, actually, she didn't ask."

"But you woulda gone, if she asked," Tommy said, goofily, with the type of grin that made women like him, but that really just meant he was being a butthead. Jane accommodated him, though, because he was a good-natured butthead.

"Yeah, I would have," she said, tapping his arm with her knuckles.

"Remember when you got on that Jodeci kick in high school?" Tommy asked, changing the subject.

"I'm still on a Jodeci kick, little brother. Just don't tell anyone," Jane laughed.

"I heard Freek 'n You the other day and it reminded me of that time you pulled that old ass keyboard out of the garage, convinced you were gonna write their next big hit," he said. His sister's face went red, and he laughed.

"I will admit there was… a moment when I thought I was god's gift to producing," she replied hesitantly. Thinking back to those days of her senior year of high school, not knowing much of where her life was going, the keys were her mainstay. She'd gone to piano lessons her whole life, and she didn't really remember being that bad. The bad boy sound of Jodeci had pleased her, and it was a way to pass the time, as well as sort out some confusing emotions.

"You thought you were God's gift to Stacy King, that's for sure," Tommy responded, and Jane wondered if he really could intuit her musings, or if he was just an asshole with some coincidence.

"Yeah well, so did you," she scolded, "and you were in the eighth grade! You didn't even go to our school!"

"Didn't matter. Never matters when they have that Rizzoli fever," he joked, but instantly they sobered a bit at his current situation with Lydia – not the best statement considering all that had passed with their father.

"I'm sleeping with her, Tommy," Jane choked out, as though the sentence itself were composed of dense metal. She snatched her can of coke and guzzled, afraid that if she sipped, he would see the shaking in her hands.

He stopped moving, an incredulous look on his face. For a moment, he misunderstood. "With Stacy King?! She's back in Boston?!"

"No, dammit! I meant Maura! I haven't seen Stacy since graduation," Jane yelled. She'd consider the moment ruined if she didn't need to tell someone so badly. Right now, all she could do is regret making that person Tommy.

"No shit," he responded, reclining back fully on the couch. He let the information sink in for a few seconds. "Isn't she dating that guy, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jane said. She screwed her eyes shut – that was the part she hated the most.

"Damn, Sis. How long?" He asked, coming forward and putting a hand on her back. The semicircles he started gave her some courage to continue.

"Like a month or so? Not that long, I guess. We were drunk the first time," she answered, wringing her hands.

"Been there done that," Tommy commented. In fact, TJ, his son, was living proof of that statement.

"Thanks, Tom. Real helpful," his sister gruffed. He marveled at how she could sound exactly like their Pop sometimes. She got his body, his voice, and he got his personality – lack of impulse control, mostly.

"So… is it just a fucking thing?"

"Maybe? To her it is. Not so much for me," Jane admitted, growing quiet.

"Then I doubt it is for her," Tommy replied. "You talk to her about it?"

"Nah, I've tried. She don't wanna listen," she said, sniffling.

"Well, I think you gotta try and make her," When his sister rose her eyebrows up to her hairline, he qualified. "I don't mean like hitting her or nothin', just, you gotta be persuasive, talk her into talkin', you see what I mean?"

"Yeah, Tommy, I do," Jane responded. She had to hand it to him, he sure made things seem simple enough.

"Go tonight."

She sputtered on her coke. "What?"

"Go see her tonight. Show her it can't wait," Tommy offered.

"She's got that thing tonight, Tommy," Jane countered, sighing.

"So? Wait up. You know if there's one thing we're good at, it's being persistent."

"We'll see," she said, letting the topic run its course for the rest of their evening together. But as it drew to a close, she made up her mind – she'd take Tommy's advice and talk to Maura that night.


A/N: Thank you to all who have reviewed! I would like to say that the reason that I am updating so quickly is that I have had the story completed on my computer for like a week now. To those of you who are saying that I am portraying Maura as treating Jane unfairly I have two things to say: 1) you are absolutely correct and I agree with you, and 2) hopefully you like how the story resolves. Just give it time, yeah? Thank you for your feedback; I love to read all you have to say. You make it worth my while!