A/N: Insert the usual disclaimer here. I am on such a Season 2 finale/Season 3 premiere kick, probably bc the sexual tension was off the charts. Hope you enjoy!
You shouldn't be here.
You shouldn't have shot him.
You shouldn't have slept with him.
Jane thought that after the grueling past couple of days she'd finally earned some sleep. Her job was secure. Doyle was alive and in custody. Dean was an unpleasant but distant memory. And Maura...Maura was coming back to work, at least. The rest could probably sort itself out. But the more she laid in the bed and the more her mind had a chance to finally unwind, the more the "shoulds" and the "should nots" of the recent days, some of which had been shouted and hissed at her while others were insinuated but left unvoiced, kept her awake.
She'd been sorry. She'd been sympathetic. She'd been defensive and scared and unsure, then gradually built up to determined and single-minded and focused. She'd saved her job. She'd nailed quite a few sons of a bitch. And she'd tried her damndest not to bring Maura down with her, despite their harsh words and the blame that Maura was all too happy to lay on her shoulders. And the more Jane let it simmer beneath the surface, the more agitated she became. Gone was the tenderness and compassion that she'd tried so hard to hold onto even as Maura folded into herself and struck out in hurt. And in its place came cold, hard fury. And with cold, hard fury came an irrational desire to pull herself out of her bed, the place that she had been so desperate to get to and now couldn't stand to be in, and force herself into somewhere else where she wasn't quite so welcome.
Her mother was still on her couch, unfortunately, although she had told Jane earlier that there was no reason that she couldn't go back to Maura's now that the whole case seemed to be straightened out. It wasn't her fault, her mother had said to Jane pointedly, that Jane and Maura couldn't talk to each other like grown-ups and she wasn't going to suffer on Jane's pull out couch when she got along with Maura perfectly fine. Although, given Jane's destination and her current mood, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that her mother was sleeping somewhere else. Especially since she seemed to not even stir when Jane, after haphazardly dressing, slipped out the door.
The drive to Maura's seemed endless but also quick in the strange way that things seemed to be when one was highly anticipating something. But as Jane threw the car in park and stomped up to Maura's door, she couldn't put her finger on what exactly she was anticipating. She considered using her key and really throwing Maura for a loop, but thought better of it, deciding instead that leaning on the doorbell repeatedly was a better use of her energy. Jane wanted Maura as angry as she felt in this moment, ferocious and frustrated and seething, and waking up to an annoying doorbell would better set the stage for the fight that Jane was jonesing for than waking up in terror because someone unexpected was in your home, which would probably backfire because then Jane would be protective and apologetic and sympathetic all over again. She needed some sort of conduit for this building rage if she ever wanted to sleep again.
The conduit came in the form of a startled but mostly frustrated Maura Isles, who answered the door not in a bathrobe over some sort of loose nightgown, as Jane had been anticipating, but in a skintight tank top and what appeared to be boxer-like pajama shorts. Jane could only stare for a moment, mesmerized by the miles of leg that she'd never really noticed on Maura, who stood so much shorter than her without her usual heels and the unexpected jolt that ricocheted somewhere deep inside her at the sight of Maura's nipples, clearly visible beneath her thin top. She could have stood there staring forever, that is, until she suddenly remembered that just a moment before, she had been furious at Maura and hellbent on waking her up in the most obnoxious way possible. Which Jane was now realizing had worked all too well.
"What do you want, Jane?" Maura's tone held none of the tenderness that it usually did when speaking Jane's name and Jane found herself even more infuriated by the contrast.
"Are you going to let me in," Jane countered, aware that she really didn't have a good answer but figuring that the best defense was a good offense. "Or are we going to put on a show for all of Beacon Hill?" She felt marginally pleased when Maura turned on her heel to stalk back into the house. Jane followed swiftly on her heels.
"I'm glad to see that one of us is sleeping well," Jane shot at her back, trying not to look too closely at Maura's shorts. Or her legs. Or her little waist. Or her shapely hips.
"You have no idea how I'm doing." Maura turned to face her, arms crossing over her chest. "Since, apart from yelling at me in my own morgue, you've barely spoken to me."
"And I could say the same for you! How did this all end up on me, Maura? And don't say because I shot your father. You know that I didn't have a choice. And you know that if I was shooting to kill, he'd be dead. But you're still acting like I'm the problem here. And considering that a week ago, I was your best friend, that doesn't seem quite right to me."
Maura took a step toward Jane, hands flying to her sides to ball into fists. "You don't get to be mad that I'm mad at you," she nearly shouted. "And if you think that it's because of what you just said, you're more out of touch than I thought. I'm not mad at you because you shot Doyle, Jane!"
"It sure seems like you are. In fact, it seems like you chose your mobster father over me. Over all of us."
"And you chose Dean over me." Maura's eyes gleamed triumphantly as Jane was rendered speechless. "If you hadn't spilled my private business to Dean - in your bed of all places, none of this would have happened."
"And you might be dead," Jane burst out. "Because that firefighter could have killed you. And then Doyle would have fired on him and one of us would have fired on Doyle and God knows what would have happened."
"Should have, would have, could have," Maura mocked back, and Jane flashed back on her earlier thoughts in her bed and was freshly infuriated all over again.
"I am so tired," she hissed as she stepped close to Maura, right into her personal space so that they could nearly touch. "Of that bullshit. Do you know how much of that I've heard over the past few days. I should have done this, I shouldn't have done that. And maybe some of that's right. But this isn't just on me. Maybe there's things that you should have done, too."
"Like what?" Maura took a step toward Jane. They were practically on top of each other now. "What should I have done?" It felt like the most dangerous of dares.
Jane threw all caution to the wind. "You should have told me to stay. You shouldn't have told me to go. You should have stayed out of it with Dean. You shouldn't have pushed me toward him when that clearly wasn't what you wanted. You should have let me help you when Doyle was down instead of pushing me away. You should have told me. You should have...you should have." What had started off as furious shouting had somehow transformed into something more quiet, more vulnerable.
But Maura was having none of it. "I'm going to ask you again. Jane, what do you want?"
"You!" Jane couldn't have predicted the explosion from her lips and even as the word rang out into the air around them, she still couldn't be completely sure it came from her. But she found herself focused more on studying Maura than trying to chase the already freed truth that hung between them.
Maura was mere millimeters from her now. "What did you say," she breathed, but Jane could still hear the anger in her tone mingled with disbelief. Or was it hope?
Jane felt her fury slowly sliding into something that felt like resolve. "You. I want you."
And then Maura's lips were crashing against hers.
They tangled together in the darkness of the living room, light and dark hair mixing together as their lips and tongues explored and danced. Jane felt the arousal pooling low in her stomach as she grazed her teeth down Maura's neck, nipping lightly at her throat before finding her collarbone. Maura moaned in response, making Jane hum a little as she felt the soft vibration beneath Maura's skin.
She pulled back just enough to reach for Maura's tank top, pulling it effortlessly over her head and tossing it onto the sofa. "I'm still mad at you," she murmured, aware that there was no sting behind her words and that the intensity might have also been undercut by the soft kisses she was now trailing across Maura's cheek toward her lips.
Maura was reaching for Jane's shirt now, her fingertips lightly grazing Jane's abs and making her squirm with anticipation. "Floor or wall," she challenged, her eyes making it clear that she wasn't done either.
Jane grabbed Maura's waist in response, pushing her up against the nearest wall but being mindful of Maura's expensive taste in decor. She pressed her body fully against Maura's, still kissing her frantically as she let her hands wander across Maura's bare chest. Jane felt Maura moan, long and slow, against her lips as she began to circle her nipples, slowly tracing closer and closer until Maura bucked against her in anticipation. "Jane," she begged. "Jane, please."
And then Jane was dipping lower, her mouth against Maura in ways she'd never imagined would ever come to be, her hands pushing aside the tiny shorts in search of Maura's heat. And there it was.
"I've never done this before," Jane murmured, her anger suddenly replaced with shyness, but then Maura's hand was over hers and pressing her on, and - oh my God - Maura was clutching at her tightly, tugging Jane's head back up from her breasts so that their lips could tangle together once again, and moaning so forcefully into Jane's mouth that Jane could almost feel Maura's orgasm as it tore through her, trembling around Jane's fingers and exploding between them. She felt Maura mouthing her own name against her lips as her hips danced and her body pressed against Jane's, and she eased her hands up from Maura's shorts to stroke lightly across her stomach, soothing her gently as she came down from her high.
Jane half-expected Maura to collapse in her arms and let Jane hold her, a sudden but enjoyable truce to their original argument, but before she could even process, Maura had pulled herself from the wall and pulled Jane toward the sofa, pushing her down onto the cushions before climbing gently on top of her. "I'm still mad at you, too," she retorted, but even Jane could see that the fire in Maura's eyes meant something different now. "And I've never done this either."
Jane had to take her word for it, because now, especially, more than ever, she was in a position to see the hives bloom across Maura's fair skin, but Maura seemed anything but inexperienced as she gently eased Jane's shorts down her hips and discarded them on the floor. She pressed herself on top of Jane, kissing her forcefully until Jane could only speak in a string of desperate expletives, before easing down her body, swirling her tongue around Jane's nipples and across her belly and then, softly, as Jane's legs jellied and fell open before her, Maura was inside of her, her lips and her tongue pressing and teasing against Jane's most sensitive parts.
"Maur," she panted as the heat and pressure built between her legs. She felt herself thrusting into Maura's touch. "More. Maur. More." Maura's name and her own pleas for release mingled together as she felt her orgasm cresting. "Oh, Maura, I'm going to come." And then she was exploding in a torrent of sensation and colors and just...Maura.
Jane was so blown away by the sensations still pulsing through her that she wouldn't have been surprised to open her eyes and find Maura gone completely, or untangling herself or rebuilding the anger in her eyes. But what she found instead was Maura draped across her, her chin resting gently between Jane's breasts, her hands stroking softly against Jane's cheek.
"I'm not mad," Maura confessed, making Jane smile.
"I'm not either," Jane admitted easily. She had trouble remembering why she'd been so infuriated in the first place, if she was completely honest. Whatever it was had been infinitely made better by the woman currently laying on top of her and watching her as if the very sun would rise on her in the morning.
"But we should...we shouldn't." Maura dropped her eyes and Jane tensed up. Weren't they over those by now, all of the shoulds and shouldn't? Maura looked back up, seemingly feeling Jane's anxiety beneath her. "I mean, we should go sleep in my bed. This sofa is really not going to be good for either of us."
"Like the wall was any better," Jane muttered, unable to resist. "But, yeah, I got you. Your bed it is."
Maura eased herself off of Jane and held out her hand. Jane gratefully took it and pulled herself to her feet, letting Maura tug her gently toward the stairs. "Maybe we should...uh...revisit the clothes?" She cast a look at their discarded garments as Maura pulled her along.
Maura gave her an amused look over her shoulder. "I think we've had our share of shoulds, haven't we, detective?"
Jane was unexpectedly turned on. "Yes, Except that maybe we should...uh...make sure we keep practicing, huh? Since we're both beginners?" And Jane let herself smile at Maura's sudden, pretty laugh.
She should be here.
She should be with Maura.
She shouldn't ever, ever be away from Maura ever again.