"It's always been you, Maur"
The heat of Jane's words seared against her nerve endings. Electricity coursed through her veins and her skin tingled from her lips to her toes.
Closing her eyes, Maura let her head fall back against the wall to expose her neck to the lips of the woman she had been waiting for. She gasped at the light brush of Jane's mouth against her pulse point. The detective's gravelly moan sent heat rushing to her core. Maura arched her back and strained against her blouse in a desperate attempt to bring her torso into contact with Jane's.
Rolling her body, Jane reciprocated and closed the space between them. Maura whimpered and let her head fall forward onto Jane's shoulder.
"Take me upstairs." She whispered into Jane's unruly curls.
Maura Isles had always known who she was. She had carefully made decisions throughout her life which she could be certain would have a positive outcome, work toward her goals, and satisfy her whims without negative consequences.
Until she met Jane Rizzoli.
The day she met the whirlwind of wild curly hair, long limbs and fiery enthusiasm, Maura Isles no longer fully knew how to make careful decisions with certain outcomes.
Jane had torn through her world with her large, loud family, deep husky voice and, definitely stompy, work boots. From that day there had been many things that Maura didn't understand, but she thought Jane's work boots were definitely up there towards the top of the list.
And now she found herself, 5 years later, sitting shotgun in Jane's unmarked vehicle with her fist pushed between her legs and her thighs clamped tightly around her wrist as she watched the Detective tackle and apprehend a shoplifter to the ground. The call had come through on their drive into BPD headquarters and Jane had been the officer closest to the scene. Seeing Jane exert her strength and authority made Maura forget about all of her careful decisions and meticulous habits. In fact, it made her feel the way she imagined teenage boys feel when they saw nudity on the television.
A small startled squeal escaped her lips when Jane flung open the rear door of the car and thrust the cuffed youth on to the back seat.
"Siddown!" She growled and slammed the door behind him.
Maura sat, stunned and silent, looking at the scruffy looking boy in the rear view mirror before Jane opened her own door and unceremoniously plonked herself into the driver's seat.
"Now I'm gonna be even more late for my date with Boston Joe" she grumbled and started the engine. Jane's scowl remained fixed for the remainder of the journey and Maura chewed her lip as she replayed the images of Jane tackling the boy to the ground over in her mind. Her frustration grew by the minute and when Jane put the car in park outside the precinct she practically leapt from the vehicle in a desperate search for air and space.
Jane offloaded the offender to a uniform at the front desk quickly and turned to greet a rookie. A rookie Maura hadn't noticed before. Hadn't noticed until she saw the look in Jane's eye when she nodded and watched the young woman with short cropped hair leave in the direction of the cells.
Maura knew this dance all too well. Jane found someone to date and have a short fling with, Maura rebounded by finding a man to sleep with and then leave before the sun came up, Jane was cocky and giddy for a while and Maura's inner turmoil drove her to drink a few more glasses than she usually liked to. Those weeks were the weeks Maura's professional mask was at it's most rigid and her personal life became strange and unpredictable. Exactly the opposite of how she liked her life.
They parted at the elevator and Maura knew her day would be long and mentally turbulent. She watched the door close on Jane who stood with her thumbs tucked into her belt, her hips thrust forward and a satisfied look on her face. Pressing her thumb to the bridge of her nose, she made her own way to her office.
Hours passed with no word from Jane or any of BPD's detectives. Maura finalised, signed and filed autopsy reports, arranged meetings and even booked herself a manicure. Her brain turned over and over as she thought of the way Jane looked at the rookie who Maura was now beginning to harbour a deep dislike toward. She mentally chastised herself. The poor woman had done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that she was attractive and that Jane was clearly on the prowl again.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the familiar heavy footsteps of those black block heeled boots. Wearily, she looked up to see Jane. In time to see Jane's previously peaceful expression knot into a frown.
"'Sup with you? You look like you're tryna solve the Da Vinci Code." Jane quizzed.
"Oh nothing, just tired of looking at a screen!" Maura replied in a feigned breezy tone. This was the part of the dance she found the hardest to keep in time to. The part in which she pretended nothing was wrong and that she hadn't been at emotional odds with herself and her sexuality since the moment she laid eyes on Jane. The part where she brushed her own feelings under the metaphorical rug and endured Jane's tales of her triumphs in the bedroom while wishing and imagining she was the one to be receiving them.
"Lunch?" Jane asked as she slumped onto the couch.
Maura nodded and mustered a small smile in reply before busying herself gathering her purse and jacket.