A/N: Inspired by the Buzzfeed article of the same name.

This was just an excuse to write some cute Rizzles because I miss them! Canon-adjacent, takes place somewhere between the sixth and seventh season, although it's not hugely important. Frost is alive because I can do that. Mostly fluff with a side of angst, and obviously headed toward a happy ending. Enjoy!

Prologue

Boston, Massachusetts.

Present.

Jane hadn't meant to be nosy. Really, she hadn't. It was just that Maura's laptop had been sitting right there, and she'd needed that part of the counter to make dinner (even if dinner that night required minimal prep because it only consisted of a frozen pizza and a bagged salad she'd picked up at the store on the way home with her mother's voice ringing in her ears to eat your veggies, Jane!), and at that point it wasn't really her fault if she'd happened to see what was on the screen, was it?

It wasn't, she decided, settling herself down at the barstool in front of the laptop. Maura would never know anyway; Jane could still hear the sound of the shower running. Having practically memorized Maura's shower-and-skincare routine by now, Jane could say with certainty that the doctor would be in there a while. Plenty long enough for her to snoop just a little bit, anyway.

The website was Buzzfeed, in all its clickbaity glory. Which was odd, because Jane distinctly remembered Maura making fun of her just last week for texting her a Buzzfeed quiz about which Red Sox player was her soulmate. What had she called it? An "illegitimate news site." The word "frivolous" might have also been used, to which Jane had only laughed and sent a screenshot of her quiz result (which had, unfortunately, been disappointing). Well, it seemed Maura had better hop off her high horse when it came to Buzzfeed.

Her lips moved slightly as she read the title. "19 Signs You and Your BFF Are Basically a Couple."

Seemed on brand for Buzzfeed. Jane scrolled down, trying to ignore the twisting feeling that began to build in her stomach as she read through the list.

8. You're always partners on the dance floor. That was normal, though. Weddings were boring; having Maura by her side was the only thing that could make them tolerable.

9. You've been known to hold hands when you go out. Once again, nothing wrong with that. Besides, they only did the pancake handhold—everyone knew that was platonic. It wasn't like they were doing the waffle or anything.

13. Whenever something goes wrong in your dating lives, you decide to just marry each other instead. Was it so wrong to know you could spend the rest of your life with your best friend and be perfectly happy? That was just the sign of a healthy friendship.

14. You've discussed your marriage pact in great detail. Jane hadn't thought about it in great detail. Or if she had, it wasn't because it was going to happen. It was just because it made sense—they practically lived together anyway, with the amount of nights they spent at each other's places. Besides, it wasn't like she talked about it with Maura all the time. It had only been once, almost two years ago now…

Shit. Jane left the computer on the counter and paced over to the other side of the room, grabbing a beer from the fridge and opening the bottle with a hiss. She was beginning to wish she hadn't snooped after all. Her heart pounded loud in her chest, and she tried to steady her breathing.

There was nothing… unusual about her friendship with Maura. Was there? Sure, people often mistook them for a couple, but it was only because she was the one person Jane felt completely comfortable with. Which was a good quality for a best friend to have.

Was Jane attracted to her? She couldn't be. She was straight, so it wouldn't make sense. Sure, Maura was beautiful, but that was just objective fact. She had… symmetrical features, or whatever it was the doctor was always going on about that supposedly made people hot in a scientific sense. If she was being honest, Jane had always been made the conscious effort not to think too much about Maura's attractiveness—because that would've been weird. And she was not about to be the one to go and make it weird.

"Is the pizza ready?"

Jane yelped, nearly dropping her beer, and glanced down at her phone. "Uh, seven minutes left."

"Perfect."

"Mmm hmm," was all she could manage, staring as Maura walked across the kitchen towards her to pour herself a glass of wine. Jane made sure not to notice the way her silk bathrobe draped across her body, was extra careful to ignore the sway of Maura's hips as she walked and the gracefulness of her hands as she grasped the stem of the glass.

"Is everything alright, Jane?"

Well, shit. She felt suddenly hot and hoped that her face wasn't betraying all her feelings. "Yeah, fine."

Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

1: You've discussed your marriage pact in great detail.

New York City, New York.

About two years prior.

The bar is a little too crowded for Jane's liking, but at least the beer isn't half bad. She downs the last of her tankard with gusto, gestures to the bartender to bring her another. Maura, meanwhile, is perched with all the grace of a high society lady, sipping wine—wine! in a place like this—and dutifully scanning the rest of the bar's patrons.

"I don't see him anywhere," she says under her breath, and Jane just shrugs.

"He's not coming, Maur. Whoever tipped us off must've had faulty information."

"I still think we should keep an eye out."

Jane rests a hand on her partner's shoulder. "We have been here for five hours. I think it's time to admit to ourselves that we've been duped."

Maura sighs, takes a little sip of her wine. "I suppose you're right."

For the first time that night, Jane lets herself relax a little bit. They're in New York; they're out for the night. They may as well make a good time of it, right?

"So… shots?"

"You know what happened last time I did shots."

"Well, yeah, but that was last time."

Jane can practically see the gears turning in her head as Maura considers it. "Ugh, fine."

"Yessss." Jane punches the air, flags the bartender down. "Shot of whiskey for me, rum for her."

"You got it," he says, and before long, two little glasses materialize in front of them like magic.

They down the first shots like a champ. And then the second, and then the third… and then eventually Jane forgets exactly what number they're on. Suddenly it's 2AM and the bar is closing, and "You and your lady get home safe, okay?" says the bartender, and Jane just nods, head swirling too much to ponder the intricacies of the statement.

"He called you my lady," she laughs later, in the back of the taxi on the way to their hotel. She and Maura are piled into the backseat half on top of one another, and Jane feels warm and fizzy inside, like there are little bubbles in her veins. Maura's head is buried in her shoulder, and Jane can smell the familiar scent of that shampoo she always uses. It's a good smell, she thinks, sweet and clean. Just like Maura.

"I am your lady, Jane," Maura says, or at least that's what Jane thinks she says, but the words are a little muffled.

"Well, yeah, but I think he meant something else by that," Jane says, but then the taxi is pulling up to the front of the hotel and they're stumbling out the door and up to their room and god, when did she get so drunk that she can barely even work the room key? It blinks yellow and then yellow again and then finally green, and Jane goes and flops on the bed, watching the ceiling spin above her.

Maura flops down next to her, and they stare at the ceiling together as if it's the most interesting thing either of them has ever seen, and Maura says, "You're looking at it like it's the Sistine Chapel," and Jane says, "That's the one the ninja turtle painted, right?" because she knows Maura will correct her. She does. Jane laughs and rolls over onto her side to face Maura, who does the same and stares back at her with wide, slowly blinking hazel eyes.

"Do you ever think about getting married?" Jane asks suddenly, because she's just gone through the world's worst breakup with Casey and she's worried she'll never love again and she's drunk, so this just seems like the right time and the right person to discuss it with.

Maura shrugs. "Sometimes. If I find the right person. Is this about Casey?"

"No."

"You're a bad liar, Jane."

"Fine." She pouts, buries her head in her arms. "Ma thinks I'm getting too old. She won't say it, but I know it's what she's thinking."

"You'll find someone."

"How can you know that?"

"Well, strictly speaking, I don't, but statistically—"

Jane groans. "Would it kill you to not be so science-y for a single night?"

"I'm just trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

Maura hums in amusement, reaches to brush a stray curl out of Jane's eyes. "If you don't find someone to marry, we can be old maids together."

Jane pouts. "Now that's just not fair."

"What?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Jane gestures clumsily at… well, all of Maura, because really, the woman is clinically insane if she can't see how gorgeous she is. That honey-colored hair, those wide eyes, that pink bottom lip that Maura is currently biting in thought, which makes Jane think about kissing her—but that's only because she's drunk. If you think about kissing girls while you're drunk, it doesn't mean anything. All girls do that. "You're gonna marry some… I dunno, some surgeon or lawyer or something, and you're gonna have the cutest little genius babies anyone's ever seen, and I'm gonna end up alone with a million dogs because I refuse to be a crazy cat lady on principle."

Maura smiles, but Jane thinks she almost looks sad. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, I am."

Jane closes her eyes and hums a tune, still giddy from the alcohol and the excitement of the night. Her mind feels pleasantly swirly and blessedly empty. She feels Maura shift beside her, and when she opens her eyes, the doctor is laid out on her back looking up at the ceiling again. Jane watches her chest move up and down as she breathes, notices the way her hair is splayed out across the bedsheets.

"We could always marry each other," Jane says, then immediately wants to take it back.

"That'd never work."

Jane is instantly offended. Maura's right, of course—she knows that—but now that she's gone and said it, Jane feels the need to defend herself as a worthy partner. "Why not?"

"Well, you're heterosexual, for one thing. That would complicate a same-sex marriage."

"So are you," Jane points out, because it goes both ways. "Who says we have to have sex?"

"Sex is traditionally a part of marriage, Jane."

"It doesn't have to be a part of ours." Jane is already concocting the scenario in her mind. "Nothing would even have to change. We could have a cute little house in the suburbs and drive to work together every day and retire somewhere out in the country when we're old. And maybe Ma would finally get off my back about settling down."

"You're talking like someone out of a romantic comedy."

She knows that's Maura's nice way of telling her she's being ridiculous, but Jane doesn't care. "You know those marriage pacts they do in the movies? I think we should have one of those."

"Jane, you are very inebriated—" Maura begins, but Jane is just getting started.

"Forty is a good age, I think," she says, the words exiting her mouth before she can think them through, "if we're both single when we're forty, let's get married. Okay?"

"I'm not sure that's a good—"

"What about forty-five, then?"

"Okay." Maura's still staring at the ceiling; she flinches a little when Jane grabs her hand, then rolls over to face her when Jane tugs her arm. "What?"

"You have to promise," Jane says, feeling that it is very vital that Maura agrees, although she doesn't know quite why. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good." Jane gives a contented hum and settles back onto the mattress, her hand still loosely wrapped up in Maura's. It's fine, though, it's pancake-style.