Maura had wanted them all to go to one of her favored, though not often visited, brunch locations, which meant they would all have to dress nicer than if they had just gone to the local diner. Though she normally would have objected, Jane recognized that Maura needed to feel comfortable in some aspect of what they were about to do, and, if that meant having to go to a classy place for brunch, then Jane was willing to go with it.
Jane checked herself in the mirror for the hundredth time to make sure she looked absolutely presentable. Wearing a pressed pair of well fitted black slacks, heeled and shined black dress boots, a belt she knew Maura loved on her, and a fitted Oxford shirt, she felt like she was going to work rather than brunch. However, she had bothered to do her hair and apply some light makeup, which wasn't the norm for a workday.
She straightened her cuffs, fluffed her hair, stared herself down in the mirror to psych herself up, and then stepped out to find the doctor.
"Maura?" Jane walked back into the master bedroom. "Sweetheart, are you almost ready to go? We still have to go pick up Ma at my place, and you know how long she can take. Maura? Where are you? Are you still in the closet? Come on! We're going to be late."
"What?" called back the fashionista from the back of the walk-in. "I can't hear you! I'm in the closet!"
"Not for long, sweetheart," Jane mumbled to herself with a satisfied smirk, then raised her voice to call back, "Then come out already!"
Thereupon, Maura appeared, still putting in her earrings. "Relax, Jane. We've got a whole hour before Estelle'sopens for brunch." She slipped on her shoes, raising her almost to Jane's height – or rather, what had been Jane's height before Jane herself put on her dress boots – and stood up straight, nervousness leaking off her like fog out of a walk-in freezer's open door. "How do I look?"
In short, Maura looked well worth the money she'd undoubtedly spent on the outfit. It was a sheath dress of delicate green, the cut of which emphasized her ample curves. To set it off, she had donned hot fuchsia slingbacks which, as she had once claimed, were what being a woman on a date was all about, a necklace and earrings of sparkling platinum, and a collection of bangles in addition to her chunky Cartier wristwatch. On anyone else, it would be an outfit of extraordinary beauty. On her, it was a casual outfit for a pleasant excursion with an LLBFF and the LLBFF's mother, unremarkable in any way, and perhaps that was the point: to turn this outing, as it were, into a non-event.
"Amazing as usual." Jane offered her arm. "Are you ready for this? Ma's been texting me for half an hour now. She's been dying to go to Estelle's for a while now. You made her day when you suggested it. I just hope she doesn't embarrass us and put a scone in her purse for later or something."
Maura giggled as she took the proffered arm and followed Jane out to her car. "I hope she does."
"Welcome to Estelle's. My name is Bertrand, and I'll be your server today. May I start you lovely ladies off with something to drink? Coffee, tea, or maybe," he leaned in as if telling an amusing secret, "a mimosa or bloody Mary?"
Maura glanced towards Angela before deciding, "I'd appreciate both a mimosa and an iced tea with lemon, please. Angela? Jane?"
"Actually, water?" Jane shifted in her seat, hand closest to Maura resting on the table between them. "With lime, not lemon."
"She's allergic," Angela said, ignoring her daughter's dirty look, before smiling broadly and cheerfully ordering a mimosa and water.
When the server left to fill the drink orders, Jane gave a little nervous smile, cleared her throat, and tried for normal. "How'd you sleep last night, Ma? I think I changed the sheets on my bed recently," she winced as she thought about it. "Well, relatively recently anyway."
"Like a baby, even though you really need new pillows. Maybe I'll get you some for Christmas, if you still need them," Angela replied as she examined the restaurant's real silverware with a failed attempt at discretion. "You don't know what a weight is off my mind! You brought home a good one, Janie." She reached over to pat Maura's hand warmly, much to the medical examiner's surprise. "So, how are the scones here?"
"They're delicious," Maura answered after a moment to switch gears, shifting back from surprised lesbian lover of this woman's daughter to brunch connoisseur. "The savory ones are very flavorful with just a little butter, and the sweet ones go very nicely with fresh berries and Devonshire cream, which Estelle'salways has in stock. Oh, look, here's Bertrand."
Indeed, there he was, his beautiful, willowy, graceful arm holding up a tray full of drinks and additions. "Here we are, mesdames," he said, barely bothering with a French accent, as if just using the vocabulary as a kind of joke. "One mimosa, one mimosa and an iced tea, one water with lime twist. Now, I'll just tell you that for brunch today we have some specials..." He gave a brief synopsis, in addition to the menus that had been on the table. "Does any of that sound appetizing, or would you like to take some more time?"
"Well," again Jane shifted uncomfortably at the table, the hand resting on the table's top between her and Maura flexing slightly, "I'm not sure." She glanced to the honey brunette for help. "Sweetheart, I'm okay if you just want to order for both of us. You're better with knowing this stuff than I am."
Angela's brows lifted. "You know, the man's supposed to do that," she began, but had the grace to blush as she realized what she'd said. "I mean, not that... Um... How do you decide?"
This, Maura could answer, albeit with a little hesitancy, and to the quiet amusement of Bertrand. "There isn't a man involved. Let me see. I think we should share a scone plate for three, both savory and sweet, with the spreads and fruits on the side. My," she licked her lips to give herself time to think, both of the order and of what to call Jane, "my girlfriend, I think, would also enjoy two eggs over-medium and some sausage. Patties, please, not links. How does that sound, Jane?" One hand slipped to the side to rest on the taller woman's strong, warm thigh, partly to steady herself and partly to make certain that the important part of what she'd said didn't go unnoticed, now that she'd brought herself to say it at all.
Jane simply nodded her approval, smiling gently at her girlfriend.
The ceiling fan did not fall from the ceiling onto Maura's head. The other patrons of Estelle'sdid not swivel in their seats to stare. No airplane crashed through the atrium window. Bertrand did not bat a lash. "Thank you. And for madame?" He looked expectantly to Angela.
"I'd like the sausage too, please, but no eggs," she answered, smiling her thanks. Bertrand repeated the order succinctly, having had no need to write it down, and betook himself back to the kitchen to submit it. The moment he was gone, but not quite out of earshot most likely, Angela leaned towards Maura. "Good for you."
Jane blushed. "Ma," she started by way of distracting from the fact that she was blushing at finally being claimed in public by Maura, "I cannot believe you. 'Usually the man decides.' Really? Thinking that one of us is the guy is like thinking one chopstick in a pair is the fork."
"Okay, yeah, I guess that was kind of dumb, huh?" Angela agreed, chuckling.
Jane snorted, blush still rising on her face. "Besides, we all know I'm the guy. It's just that, you know, I'm dating a matriarch." She glanced over to Maura as she moved the hand on the table down to place it atop the one resting on her thigh.
Though shy on the subject, Maura took courage and suggested, "But now that you've said that, it occurs to me that you might have some questions for us. Obviously there are going to be details that Jane would be uncomfortable with us discussing," not to mention her own potential for discomfort, "but as her mother, you deserve to have some questions answered, if you have any."
Angela sipped her mimosa as she gave the offer some thought. "You know, I've always wondered," she began, her voice light and airy.
"Oh, God," Jane mumbled.
The elder Rizzoli ignored her daughter, "How do you figure out which one is going to do stuff that is normally the man's job or the woman's job? Do you flip a coin or decided based on which one of you is more butch or what? Did I say that right? Butch?" She looked at Jane.
"Why didn't I order a whisky on the rocks?" Jane mumbled under her breath before answering, "Yeah, some people say butch."
"Okay then, is it a butch versus girly thing or something? Is that how you figure out who's going to do what? Of course," Angela was rambling, letting her thoughts come out sans filter, "if you're in the bedroom, you probably don't have any clothes on anyway, so how do you figure it out then?"
"Oh my God!" Jane covered her face with her free hand, blush darkening her features.
Much to no one's surprise at all, Maura took the questions seriously. "It depends on who's more suited to the task. For instance, Jane grew up with her father, so she's better with smaller plumbing crises than I am. When her car needs a little help before she can drive it to the mechanic, I usually take care of it, because the intricacies of the internal combustion engine are one of my hobbies. I cook a wider variety of foods, but Jane's touch with Italian cuisine is quite a bit better than mine, and she cooks more naturally than I do. I require recipes, but Jane has instincts. In terms of lovemaking, we..."
Panic surged through Jane. "No." She quickly pulled her hand from Maura's and clasped it over the doctor's mouth. In a stern, low, quiet voice, she said to both women, "You two can talk about whatever you want as long as there are no specifics about what we do in the bedroom. No, Maura. I mean it. There are limits on what I'm okay with my mother knowing, and who is on top… and when …crosses into the things-Ma-should-never-know category. Got it?"
Maura nodded as best she could, though she still looked confused.
Jane looked to her mother, who was quietly chuckling at the scene; she nodded to her daughter who then continued on. "I'm going to remove my hand, and, when I do, if you start to talk about our bedroom stuff again, I'll… I'll," she grimaced, thinking of the right threat. Then, she smirked, eyes going to a dare. "I'll kiss you here and now to shut you up. I mean it."
With that, Jane slowly removed her hand, eyes narrowed in unspoken threat.
"Kissing your girlfriend in public isn't much of a threat, is it?" Angela lightly scolded. "Shouldn't you threaten her with getting your hair cut into a mullet or something? Isn't that what you people wear for hair-do's? Mullets?" She winked from behind her mimosa glass at Maura's horrified expression.
"You people?" Jane scoffed. "Really?"
Immediately, however, Maura rose to the bait. "I would never permit my hair to be styled in such an atrocious, outdated manner, and I would be severely skeptical that Jane would ever do such a thing, either. Though her fashion sense leaves something to be desired, Jane does appreciate things such as taste, current style, and her own type of beauty, and I'm certain she realizes that while 'party in back' suits her very well, 'business in front' is not an appropriate way to offset her strong, fine features. Besides all that, there are fourteen hairstyles that are considered lesbian hairstyles, other than the distasteful one referred to as the mullet, and I'm confident that if Jane sought a change in her hairstyle, she would pick one of those. Something much more complementary to her face. Not that she would, or should, of course. Jane looks perfectly gorgeous exactly as she is."
"I think you're pretty, too," Jane said as she smirked at her mother. The I see what you did there look she gave the older woman came with a chuckle from the detective. "Relax, Sweetheart, Ma's just yanking your chain. Right, Ma?"
"Mostly," Angela shrugged, "But I do think you'd look cute with a short little shag. Wouldn't she look good shagged, Maura?" Angela barely kept her grin contained as she set her mimosa glass down on the table top.
"One of these days, Ma," Jane cleared her throat, sighing.
Maura brightened as she found something she could discuss. "Did you know that the word shag refers to a style of haircut, a style of carpet, and also to sexual intercourse? The last is British slang, though I am uncertain of the slang term's derivation. Possibly it relates to the carpet style, with the implication that to shag would be to have intercourse on the carpet. On the floor, that is. Uncomfortable and a bit on the informal side, if you see what I mean," her hand lifted to indicate a certain shiftiness and insinuation, buoyed by her vocal tone. "Speaking of which, Jane …"
"What did I just tell you two?" Jane slid down in her chair. "First of all, I'm pretty sure that the British slang is probably more based off the fact that some people's slang for," she stopped herself, rolled her eyes, and groaned. "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud and in front of my mother." She glanced around to make certain no one was listening and no one was coming. "I'm pretty sure it's based off the fact that the term carpet is slang for a woman's … private parts." She cleared her throat as she rolled her eyes. "Second of all," she grunted, "Ma, stop teasing Maura. You know she doesn't always catch it, and you talking about my sex life is just wrong and weird and makes me feel like I need to go take a shower or something, and, finally," she turned to fully face Maura, "I told you, Sweetheart, that I would kiss you here and now if you did that again, so…"
Without any additional warning, Jane's hand shot out, landed on Maura's neck, and pulled the smaller woman to her as she leaned in and kissed the doctor.
