Jane didn't hate art, but she didn't get it. Not the way Maura did.
But what she did get, when she went to these freaky little independent exhibits in back alleyways and deserted lofts, on rooftops and in open fields, everyone in torn and asymmetrical clothing, or at those massive art galleries filled with formal gowns and tuxedos, was the smile on Maura's face as she examined the art. That little smile, the breathless explanations and critiques, the excited tug of Maura's hand as she dragged Jane through to something she was excited about, the babble of words about colour and theories and pastiches and all the words Jane knew but indulgently let Maura explain to her. All the sculptures Maura's hands hovered inches away from, as though she could absorb their energy via osmosis. The look of wonder on her face.
Maura knew Jane didn't particularly like art exhibits, but she knew Jane's reluctance to join her at a showing was mostly for show, so no one knew that the fierce Detective Jane Rizzoli had a soft, artistic side. It was a little infuriating, though, the way Jane never gave the art more than a glance. Every time Maura looked up, Jane was smiling at her with that look on her face. It was somewhere between condescending and indulgent, and Maura couldn't quite place it. It would be infuriating if it wasn't also incredibly soft.
"I don't know why I bring you," Maura said huffily, gesturing again to the painting she'd been trying to get Jane's interest in. She wanted to buy it, but Jane only hummed non-committedly, eyeing the neckline of Maura's dress with far more interest. "You never even look at the art." Maura was frustrated and close to tears. Jane heard it in her voice, took Maura's bare shoulders and looked her in the eye.
"Nothing in this room is worth looking at so much as you are."
"Jane?" Maura was trying to figure out that sentence when Jane sighed, pulling away.
"Everything in here is pretty, sure. But you - you're much nicer to look at. Especially when you're enjoying yourself. I don't come to the galleries for the art, Mau. I come to see you enjoy the art," Jane said, as though it was obvious.
"Oh," Maura had to process that. There were a lot of things Maura didn't enjoy about baseball games, but she enjoyed them because they made Jane so alive and happy. Perhaps this was the same for Jane, then. "You think I'm prettier than..." Maura gestured again at the painting she wanted. "It's selling for 15 million dollars."
"Doesn't hold a candle to you," Jane said dismissively. "It's worthless, next to you." Jane's voice was soft and Maura covered her mouth, trying to ground herself. What Jane had just said sounded an awful lot like Jane was admitting she thought Maura was attractive. It wasn't news, per say. Maura knew Jane thought she was attractive, objectively. But this sounded subjective, and Maura didn't know if Jane knew that was how it sounded.
"Oh," Maura said again, in lieu of any other statement that required coherent thought. Jane looked nervous now too, as though her brain had just caught up with her mouth.
"I mean, it's nice, I guess. It just... doesn't do it for me."
"And I do?" Maura was aware she was breathing a little shallowly, tried to take a deep breath. Jane took Maura's forearm, ran her hand up to the elbow.
"Yeah, now start breathing, ok?" Jane said, her voice concerned. Jane's arm wrapped around Maura's shoulder and she gestured to one of the waiters, holding a glass of water to Maura's mouth a moment later. Maura sipped cautiously, her breathing evening out as Jane's hand moved from Maura's shoulder down to her waist, knowing Jane knew about human equilibrium and was bracing herself to take Maura's weight if she fainted. "I only said you were pretty, you should learn how to take a compliment," Jane joked, and Maura half-laughed, watching Jane signal to the waiter that Maura was ok.
"You didn't just say I was pretty, you said..."
"I know what I said, ok?" Jane said, her voice high-pitched, tight and embarrassed. "I'd ask if you want to go home, but I know you were excited about the Destela La Formage."
Maura weighed her options. She was a patron, she could come back later. But right now Jane's arm was around her waist, and Jane was looking at her like she was a freshly painted O'Keeffe.
"We could stay a little longer," Maura conceded.
'Good," Jane said, her voice low. "Because I am not done looking yet."
The implication was that Jane would be watching Maura appreciate art, and she blushed. Jane eyed Maura's cheeks.
"According to colour theory, red symbolises anger, passion... and love. How'd I make you so mad, huh?" Jane asked, her eyes sparkling under the chandeliers. Maura rolled her eyes.
"You're lucky I love you," Maura said, watching Jane carefully.
"Yeah, I am." Jane's eyes were wide; they were always wide when Maura made this casual, harmless statement. "But not as lucky as you're going to get tonight," Jane said, and now she was blushing too. "If you want," Jane added, sounding nervous.
"We can go now," Maura blurted out, heading for the door, dragging Jane behind her by a confused but altogether willing hand.
Notes:
One shot.