A/N: Hi y'all! Thanks for being patient in waiting on this second chapter, I hope you enjoy. :) I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month and hoping to write a lot, so the next one should be out sooner rather than later!
Also, this chapter was basically an excuse to write one of my favorite tropes, so have fun with that!
2: You stay at each other's places so often you're used to sharing a bed.
Los Angeles, California.
One year ago.
"God, I hate LA," Jane complains as they round the corner of the building, dragging their suitcases behind them. "It's too goddamn spread out and there's so much fucking smog and Jesus Christ, the people here are so annoying."
"At least it's warmer than Boston," Maura points out, ever the optimist. She's not wrong; although the sun has long since set, the air can't really be classified as chilly. "It's a nice change of pace from the never-ending east coast winter, and it certainly has a better growing season."
It's late April, but there had been a cold snap last week, and the winter frost in Boston is back with a vengeance. Maura's plants had been an unfortunate casualty, as Jane had promised to bring them in off the porch the night before the freeze and had (predictably) forgotten to do so. Maura, of course, hasn't let her hear the end of it since.
"I'd rather be freezing my ass off in Boston than have to talk to another snooty wannabe celeb ever again." Jane rolls her eyes, imitating one of the suspects they'd interviewed earlier, a whiny twenty-something whose determination to drive Jane bonkers had nearly rivaled that of her Ma. "'What, you don't know who I am?' I mean, god, she seemed more upset that I didn't recognize her than that her boyfriend ended up with a kitchen knife to the back."
"That was a bit suspicious."
Jane hums in assent. "And don't even get me started on the palm trees everywhere. It's just downright unnatural. I mean, who decided that they wanted to make this place look like the Walmart knockoff of Hawaii?"
"There are worse places to be," Maura says, but Jane shakes her head.
"I can't believe we have to be here for another week."
The doors to their hotel swish open in front of her, and Maura's heels click across the tiled floor of the lobby. It's all very modern and very Californian. If anyone had asked Jane to describe what she meant by that, she wouldn't be able to, but she knows it (and dislikes it on principle) when she sees it. She heads for the front desk, but Maura grabs her arm and drags her over to a little display full of those brochures they've always got at touristy hotels. If it were anyone else, Jane would protest and pull away; but it's Maura, so she just rolls her eyes and follows.
Most of the brochures look painfully boring to her, but Maura's eyes light up immediately as she grabs a few science-related ones.
"I've always wanted to see the La Brea Tar Pits."
Jane groans. "Not another museum."
"There will be bones."
"Dinosaurs?" Jane asks hopefully, but Maura shakes her head.
"Dinosaurs had been extinct for roughly sixty-six million years before the formation of the tar pits. In fact, Los Angeles was still beneath the Pacific Ocean at the time. It wasn't until the Cenozoic that the San Andreas Fault began to form as the subduction of the Farallon plate occurred, and—"
"Oh, god, I feel like I'm at the museum already."
"Sorry."
"No, no, I'm kidding. Mostly," Jane says, and pretends to wince when Maura elbows her in the side.
"We've got a lot of free time, Jane," she points out, and then she fixes those big eyes on Jane's face, and—
"Fiiiine," Jane sighs, "we can go to a museum or two."
"Wonderful." Maura beams, and it just about makes up for the boredom Jane knows she's gonna suffer. "Oh, did I mention there will be mammoth skeletons? And saber-toothed cats?"
"Why didn't you lead with that?" Jane complains, but they're both smiling.
She leaves Maura rifling through the pamphlets and strides up to the front desk, where she plunks down her wallet unceremoniously, startling the young woman working there. She can't be more than twenty, and she's got that typical Los Angeles look—a wide eyed ingenue with dewy makeup and bleached blonde hair, like she's trying to be famous but just hasn't got there quite yet. It's everything Jane has never been, and everything she'll swear up and down she's never wanted to be; maybe that's part of why she hates this goddamn city so much.
"Welcome to the Hampton Inn. How can I help you?"
"Checking in. Room's under Rizzoli. Jane," she adds, and the woman nods.
"I'll just need to see your ID and a credit card."
Jane grunts and slides them across the counter to her, twiddling her thumbs. There's light elevator music playing; she taps her feet to the rhythm as the receptionist clicks around on the computer for a minute, sorting out the details of their reservation.
Maura comes up behind her with another brochure in her hand, nudges her in the side. "Look, the Dodgers are playing on Wednesday night. We could get tickets."
"You promise you'll sit through the whole thing?"
"Of course." Maura smiles, loops her arm through Jane's. "I'll even drink cheap beer and eat a ridiculously overpriced hot dog with you if you'd like."
"Damn, you're being so generous."
"Why, thank you, Jane."
"That was sarcasm."
Maura opens her mouth to protest, but the receptionist clears her throat and slides Jane a little envelope with their room keys. She hands it to Maura for safekeeping.
"Alright, Ms. Rizzoli, you're all set." She looks between the two of them, gives Jane a knowing smile that throws her strangely off kilter. "Have a wonderful evening."
"Thank you," Maura says, and Jane gives a nod of acknowledgement, and then they walk across the lobby to the elevator.
"Did you see the look she gave me?" Jane comments as the elevator doors slide shut. "What do you think that was about?"
"What look?"
"I dunno, it was a look."
"Jane, you're going to have to be more specific."
"Never mind," Jane grumbles as the elevator chimes to tell them they've arrived at the proper floor. "It's been a long day, I just wanna get dinner and go to sleep. Can we order a pizza?"
"We had pizza last night."
"Well, yeah, but you can never have too much pizza."
"From a nutritional standpoint—"
Jane groans. "Fine, point taken. We can get something else."
"I didn't say I was opposed to the idea of pizza, only that it should be consumed in moderation. As with most food items."
"What's the room number again?"
"721."
"Okay, so it is this one." Jane reaches out a hand, and Maura passes her a room key, which she scans. The light blinks green, and the door clicks open.
It's a nice enough hotel room, if not fancy. Jane kicks off her shoes immediately and goes to flop on the bed, letting out a sigh as she sinks back into the mattress. It's not unbearably hard, which is an improvement over the hotel they'd stayed in last time they'd been put on an out-of-town assignment. Of course, as soon as Jane lays down on it, she realizes that there is, in fact, only one bed. She sits up with a groan.
"Can they never get our reservations right?" she complains, but Maura just blinks.
"What do you mean?"
"There's only one bed."
"Oh." Maura's eyes dart around the room as though she needs to confirm this fact for herself. "That's alright. We've certainly slept in the same bed before."
"Well, yeah," Jane says, "but it's the principle of the thing. I mean, I asked for a room with two."
Maura looks quizzical. "Are you uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as me?"
"I—what? No!" Jane exclaims, her face heating up. "Uh, no, why would I be?"
Maura's eyes are on her face, analyzing her expression, and Jane can practically see the gears spinning in her head. She jumps to fix it before Maura can spiral any further into whatever analysis she's conducting in that big brain of hers.
"Like you said, we've done it a million times. I'm not gonna get weird about it now."
"Consent is always reversible, Jane. If your feelings have changed, of course I'll respect that."
"Jesus, Maur, you're talking like this is a goddamn breakup."
Maura is silent for a beat too long. "Is that your intention with this conversation?"
"What? We're not even dating, how could I even break up with you?" Jane buries her head in her hands with a groan. "Look, forget I said anything, okay? Let's just order a pizza. You want the usual?"
"That would be lovely," Maura says, but there's something stiff about the way she says it.
Jane chooses to ignore the awkwardness in favor of googling the nearest Domino's and hitting the call button. The employee picks up blessedly quickly, and Jane can just about ignore Maura in the corner of her eye, her gaze on Jane's face. She orders the same thing she always does: large pizza, half and half down the middle, lots of pepperoni on her side and veggies on the other for Maura.
"They said it'll be ready in twenty minutes," Jane says, hanging up the phone. "I'm gonna go get it."
"They don't deliver?"
She can't make eye contact. "I could use some air. Even though driving in this city is a nightmare."
"Okay. Don't forget to take a key."
"Yeah." Jane grabs it on her way out the door, ignoring the tight feeling that's building in her throat. The elevator down to the lobby feels longer than it had on the way up, and much too quiet without Maura's commentary in her ear.
What the fuck had all that been about? She feels guilty, not sure why she'd made such a big deal about it when Maura is right. They've slept in the same bed so many times, and not just out of necessity, either. Nothing has changed, or at least nothing that Jane wants to admit to herself.
She stops by the front desk on the way out to the car; it's the same girl working there as before, and she gives Jane the same bright smile.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"I, uh, wanted to let you know that there's only one bed in our room."
"Oh." The girl frowns. "I'm sorry, did you want two?"
"I—yeah, I think that was on the reservation."
She clicks around on the computer, and Jane fidgets, unsure why this whole thing is so awkward.
"You're right, the original reservation had two twin beds. I'm so sorry, I just assumed…" She blushes. "The woman with you, is she not your wife?"
"W-what?" Jane feels her cheeks go red, and her heart starts a panicky little beat in her chest. "Uh, no. No, she's not—we're not—I mean, we're just friends. Why would you think that?"
"I'm so sorry," the receptionist repeats, "it's my mistake, really. I'll fix it for you right away, it's no trouble. In fact, there's another room on the same floor with two beds."
There's a funny feeling in Jane's chest. "Oh, uh, it's fine. Don't worry about it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Jane says, and then turns to go before she can change her mind. "It's no problem, really."
The night air feels colder than before when she steps outside, or maybe it's just that her cheeks are flushed. She walks to the rental car in a hurry, even though she's not late. In fact, she'll definitely get to the pizza place before the food is done; she'd just been eager to leave behind the awkwardness between her and Maura in the hotel room. She swings the door open, jams the key into the ignition hastily. If she can focus on the road, if she can drive fast enough to outrun her thoughts, she's sure things with Maur will be back to normal by the time she gets back with the pizza.
Jane tries to focus on headlights and street signs and the sterile British voice of her GPS croaking at her from the car speakers, but her thoughts keep returning to Maura's face. You're talking like this is a goddamn breakup. It had been an offhanded comment on her part, just a joke between friends. Frost always makes fun of them for being an old married couple, and he's sort of right, when Jane thinks about it. But there's nothing more to it than that.
She would know if she and Maura were dating, wouldn't she? Usually there's a discussion about it, Jane thinks, although it's been a while since she's seriously dated anyone. The last person had been Casey, and that had been a disaster. Honestly, she's not interested in dating anyone. She's happy with the way things are, doesn't see the need to change anything when her life works perfectly fine just the way it is. And she and Maura, well, they're friends. She likes being Maura's friend. And now she's gone and made it weird.
She pulls into the Domino's parking lot sooner than she'd like and puts the car in park. Jane sighs, lowers her head onto the top of the steering wheel. Goddamnit.
The next morning, Jane is sitting in the car waiting for Maura to come down from the room. She's always ready sooner than Maur, no matter how much later she gets up; maybe it's because she wears essentially the same thing every day and doesn't really care whether her hair looks presentable. Who's gonna care, the suspects she's interviewing? They both have bigger fish to fry.
She's eating a bland blueberry muffin from the hotel lobby (the continental breakfast, as usual, had been less than thrilling) when she spots Maura. The doctor emerges from the hotel, walking gracefully in her heels as she makes her way across the parking lot to the car and opens the passenger door.
"Good morning!" she chirps, settling into the seat next to Jane. Jane smiles, turns her way to return the greeting when—
Maura's mouth is very suddenly against Jane's lips. Jane lets out of a sound of surprise against her, pulls back immediately.
"What the hell—what was that about?"
Maura just looks confused. "What do you mean?"
"I—you—Maur, you just kissed me."
"Well, yes, Jane, that's what people in relationships generally do."
"Relationships?" Has she died and gone to some alternate reality? Is this about what she'd said last night, the breakup thing? But then she'd thought everything had been normal when she'd gotten back with the pizza. They'd watched a movie and gone to sleep like it was nothing. "We're not—I mean, I'm straight. You're straight. Right?"
"Human sexuality is not a binary," Maura says, and it sounds like the beginning of one of her lectures. "According to Alfredo Kindergarten, heterosexual-homosexual tendencies can be rated on a score from zero to six, where a zero means you like spaghetti and a six means you like ravioli."
"What?" Jane frowns, because something is off about this statement, only she can't tell quite what. "Maur, you're not making any sense."
"We can be in a relationship even if you're heterosexual," Maura finishes, and she beams. "Now are you going to kiss me or not, Jane?"
Jane is the definition of dazed and confused, which is a movie, right? She's pretty sure she watched it with Frankie and Tommy when they were kids. Her head is spinning, and then she's leaning in to kiss Maura, and it feels… nice, and she closes her eyes, and then everything is spinning even more and—
"Jane?"
It's Maura's voice, but when she opens her eyes, she sees it can't be Maura because Maura's mouth is still very firmly against her own. She closes her eyes again, opens her mouth and tastes Maura. Now that Maura mentions it, maybe she likes ravioli a little bit. Not the way she likes spaghetti, though, that would be weird.
"Jane? Jane, wake up."
"Huh?"
When she opens her eyes again, Maura is beside her with her hand on Jane's shoulder, only they're not in the car. They're in bed together, which is even more confusing because how did they get here from the car?—she doesn't remember that—and then Jane's brain finally switches back on, and she flinches away from Maura's touch.
"Are you alright?"
Her voice sounds high pitched even to her own ears. "Um, yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"You sounded like you were having a nightmare."
"Uh, no, I'm fine. It wasn't a nightmare, just… a really weird dream."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No!" Jane yelps. "Nope, uh, that's okay."
Maura looks a bit confused, but to her credit, she doesn't press further. "Well, let me know if you change your mind."
"Yeah." Jane doesn't want to ask, but she has to know. "I didn't… say anything, right?"
"While you were dreaming?"
"Ma says I used to sleep talk. As a kid, I mean."
"No, you were just muttering. Why?"
Jane fidgets with a loose thread on the comforter. "No reason."
She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, where she splashes cold water on her face and contemplates her reflection. Already, the dream is beginning to fade from her mind, but she can't help but replay the last part over and over. Maura had asked if Jane was going to kiss her, and she had agreed. Well, her dream self had agreed, anyway. And then it had been… good.
It's just a dream, she tells herself, brown-eyed reflection staring back at her. There are dark circles under her eyes; she looks almost haunted. Dreams don't mean anything. What she'd done in the dream doesn't have any bearing on real life. And besides, everything with Maura last night had been so normal. They'd eaten pizza and gone to bed with a respectable amount of distance between them, and that had been that.
She brushes her teeth in a hurry, braids back her hair without even brushing it. It's earlier than she had intended to get up, but not so early that she can't go for a walk or something. Maybe Maur will be asleep again when she gets out of the bathroom, and then she'll be able to sneak out without waking her.
But when she opens the door, Maura is perched on the bed with a book in hand. She looks up at Jane as she emerges from the bathroom, a gentle smile on her lips, and Jane immediately feels bad for wanting to ignore her. It's not Maura's fault that Jane can't keep her damn brain in line.
"Dreams don't have any… significance, do they? I mean scientifically," she says, trying to be nonchalant.
"There's no scientific consensus on what dreams mean," Maura replies, her eyes lighting up with that spark she gets whenever someone asks her to explain something. It's a very endearing trait, Jane thinks. "Historically, people variously believed that dreams were either prophetic or somehow reflected the subconscious will of the subject. However, the first scientific dream research didn't begin until the 1950s, when Aserinsky and Kleitman discovered REM sleep. Since then, there have been various theories about dream significance, ranging from that they are a simple byproduct of neural activity to that they help synthesize and retain emotional memory. But even modern dream studies are complicated by the fact that the process of studying dreams is inherently quite subjective."
"Translate that into normal English, please."
"Simply put, nobody knows why we dream or what our dreams might mean."
"Well, that's just great," Jane mutters. "Science to the rescue yet again."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about your nightmare?"
"Very." Jane stomps over to the door and begins putting on her shoes. "I'm gonna go down and get a muffin or something from the lobby, do you want anything?"
"A piece of fresh fruit, if they have any." Maura's eyes are studying her face intently, and Jane's cheeks burn under her gaze.
"I'll see what I can find."
God, she really fucking hates Los Angeles.