Jane hates that the nickname 'babe' she'd used on Maura once somehow stuck. She finds herself using it unironically when they're together, even at work. The worst part is that no one questions it; not Frost, not Korsak, not Cavanuagh. Not even Stanley, and he gets his digs in where he can. And it's crept into their home life as well; Angela hasn't seemed to notice, and Frankie and Tommy are too busy vying for Maura's attention to notice. Hope and Cailin seem entirely unfazed as well. Constance once questions why Jane doesn't use 'dear' or 'darling' like an adult, but Maura never passes on that little note to Jane.
"C'nya grab me a beer while you're up?" Jane asks, putting her feet - still in the boots! - up on Maura's coffee table.
"Why do you call me that?" Maura asks finally, handing Jane the beer she'd asked for, placing her wine on a coaster. She sits next to Jane on the couch, watching her curiously.
"Someone should," Jane grumbles. "I mean it. You're too nice and sweet and kind and lovely and generous and gorgeous and precious to not be someone's special someone, so until you find yours, I'll remind you."
"Aw, babe, I already found my special someone," Maura says, and she slides in closer to Jane, resting her head on Jane's shoulder, very aware of Jane's elevated heartbeat because she knows what Jane's resting heartrate should be, and what it is when Maura touches her.
"Oh," Jane says, sounding disappointed.
"It's you, silly," Maura chuckles against Jane's chest. "You're the person that makes me feel like I'm all those things you think I am."
"Oh," Jane says again, deflating from the brief jealous anger that Maura might have found someone else as the realisation of what Maura said hit her. "Oh." She brings her arm up around Maura and holds her, puts her beer down because Maura is more important than beer and she needs to hold her properly. "So, like, will you be my babe, babe?" Jane asks in what Maura assumes is some sort of stoner surfer California mockery. Jane can't even be serious in a moment like this. Maura shakes her head in disbelief. Jane pulls away.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, I thought you meant," Jane looks panicked and Maura chuckles again.
"Ask again," Maura says gently.
"Do you want to - god this is so weird - do you want to... I don't even know what to ask you here." Jane looks down at her hands, running her fingers over the scars. "You know from experience what my life is like. How dangerous it is for anyone who loves me. I don't know if I should even ask..."
"I already love you," Maura says. "And my life is no more dangerous because of it."
"Hoyt," Jane chokes out.
"Patrick. Doyle." Maura says, like she's playing a winning hand of poker. Jane doesn't look up from her hands.
"I don't want to put you in any more danger," Jane says. "But I do want -" Jane cuts herself off and looks up at Maura, who is watching Jane's agitation with sympathy.
"You do want -" Maura prompts her.
"You," Jane exhales in a rush. "I do want you. As my... whatever."
"Constance suggested 'dear' might sound a little more adult," Maura says, and Jane chuckles lowly, letting one of her hands creep over and take Maura's.
"Okay, dear," she says, and she's still lightheartedly mocking Maura a little bit, right up until Maura kisses her.
