A/N: Despite having 6 other ongoing fics, I wanted to write something low on angst and tragedy and high on fluff because I love love. I haven't decided exactly where this will take place in the timeline, but somewhere between seasons 4-6. Please review and let me know what you think!

Jane Rizzoli had too many thoughts in her head. She sat on her best friend's kitchen counter in cotton shorts and a tank top, watching Maura cook them dinner. This was something she'd done countless times before, but this time felt different. For starters, Jane had no idea what Maura was cooking. She hadn't noticed one ingredient going into a pot or pan. She wasn't watching the food. She was watching Maura.

The way Maura's hand loosely gripped a whisk. The way Maura's copper-colored hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. The way Maura made eye contact every once in a while and lingered there for several seconds with a small smile. The way she stood on her tiptoes barefoot to reach the higher shelves. The way her dress fit snugly over every curve of her body. The way she made some kind of physical contact with Jane every single time she walked past her.

It wasn't new for Jane to notice these things about Maura. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but at some point in their friendship, Jane had begun to notice herself really seeing her best friend, and not necessarily in ways friends tend to see each other.

"Jane. You're experiencing facial plethora." Maura leaned against Jane's legs and put the back of her hand to Jane's cheek. "Your temperature is slightly elevated. Are you feeling ill?"

Jane didn't know what facial plethora was, but she instinctively wrapped her fingers around Maura's wrist to keep her hand on her cheek a little longer. "I feel fine, Maura. When are we eating?" She released her grip and Maura slid her hand down Jane's neck before pulling it away.

"I've been trying to get you to taste this, but it appears you were having a petit mal seizure."

"A seizure?" Jane was momentarily alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

"A joke," Maura said, explaining nothing. Maura grabbed a spoon from a drawer and scooped some sauce into it from a pan on the stove.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't joke about seizures. Or a plethora of faces."

Maura blew gently on the steaming liquid, then held the spoon to Jane's lips.

"Mmm," Jane sighed, only partly because the sauce was incredible. Mostly because of the way Maura braced herself by gripping Jane's bare thigh with her free hand. "I could kiss you."

"Did you know the phrase 'kiss the cook' actually comes from the Italian phrase 'chi tardi arriva male allogia', which was defined in a dictionary by Giuseppe Marco Antonio Baretti as 'they that come too late must kiss the cook'? But you aren't late, and the English translation for…"

"Maura," Jane interrupted. "I don't care. The sauce is good."

"Everything is ready, then," Maura said. "I am going to change into something more comfortable before we eat. Will you plate? I'll be right back."

Jane hopped off the counter. She topped off their glasses with red wine and put them on the dining table. Then she grabbed plates from the cabinet and filled them with pasta and sautéed chicken and mushrooms, topping with the lemon caper sauce. She was carrying the plates to the table when Maura came back. Jane nearly dropped the plates upon seeing her. "Um. What are you wearing?"

Maura rushed over to her and took the plates from her trembling hands. "It's yours. What's wrong with you?" Maura set the plates safely on the table.

Jane gaped at her. Maura was in an oversized Red Sox t-shirt. And that was it, unless she was wearing extremely short shorts. "I know it's mine," Jane finally said. "Why are you wearing it?" Jane wasn't used to seeing this much of Maura's thighs with no warning.

"It's comfortable," Maura shrugged, clearly oblivious to the reason behind Jane's reaction. "Let's eat while it's hot." Maura pulled out the chair at the head of the table and gestured for Jane to sit.

Jane did, but didn't stop looking Maura up and down. Maura sat in the chair to her right, the shirt riding even higher.

"Why are you looking at me all weird?" Maura asked. "Eat your dinner."

Jane did, as fast as she could, nearly choking every time Maura's knee bumped hers under the table. Her wine was gone within minutes.

"Slow down, Jane, where's the heat?"

"It's 'where's the fire', Maur. But come to think of it, it is pretty hot in here."

"Maybe you are running a fever. I'll go get a thermometer." Maura started sliding her chair back, but Jane stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"I seriously feel fine. I don't have a fever. I'm going to start the dishes." Jane stood quickly and grabbed her empty wine glass and still half-filled plate.

Maura looked a little hurt. "You didn't like the meal?"

"I loved it, Maur. I'm just not very hungry." Jane carried the dishes to the kitchen.

"You were starving half an hour ago," Maura called after her.

Jane found a glass container to put the rest of her food in and started loading the dishwasher. Maura joined her a few minutes later, added her leftovers to the container, and put it in the refrigerator. Jane noticed the way she moved about the kitchen without looking at her, making a little more noise than necessary, sighing loudly.

"Something you'd like to say, Maura?" she finally asked.

"Your behavior is peculiar," Maura said. "You always tell me what's going on with you, but right now you are being uncharacteristically reticent."

"That was characteristically wordy," Jane laughed.

"Don't mock me, Jane." Maura crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter.

Jane wished she could disappear. Out of all the times Jane had been aware of herself acting weird around Maura lately, her friend had chosen tonight to notice. Tonight, when Maura chose to wear nothing but a t-shirt for dinner and Jane's glass of wine per hour rate was higher than usual. She crossed the kitchen and placed her hands on Maura's arms, gently tugging them away from her chest. She held on to Maura's wrists, rubbing lightly with her thumbs as she spoke. "I promise nothing is wrong. I'm a little tired and a little too tipsy, maybe. But I loved dinner and I'm really happy to be here with you."

Maura's eyes met Jane's, her familiar spark coming back. She braced herself with a hand on Jane's waist and stood on her tiptoes to give Jane a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's leave the dishes for tomorrow. Would you like to watch a movie? It's your turn to pick."

Jane's cheek burned from the peck and her heart pounded at the sensation of the hand on her waist. "You pick. I want to watch whatever you want."

They sat side by side on the couch, arms touching, like any other night. Thirty minutes into a documentary Jane couldn't pay attention to, Maura's hand rested on her thigh. She shivered from the contact.

"You're cold," Maura observed. "I'll get a blanket." Maura came back with the blanket and sat further away this time.

Jane missed the closeness for a second, but then Maura swung her legs into Jane's lap. The movement slid the Red Sox tee higher up on her hip, confirming she wasn't wearing shorts underneath. Jane didn't miss the flash of black lace underwear, but now Maura's bare thighs were in her lap and she wasn't sure which was worse. Or better? Maura shook the blanket out over their legs. Jane didn't know what to do with her hands. If she didn't have alcohol in her system, or there wasn't an electric charge in the air between them, she might have kept them on top of the blanket. But the night was already unusual, so she put them underneath, resting on Maura's thigh. She tried to focus on the documentary, but she'd already spaced out on too much of it to have any interest now. She slid a hand a little higher up Maura's leg, moving slow in case there was any protest from her friend. She glanced over and Maura gave her a warm, sleepy smile. Jane relaxed. Everything was fine. She found herself lazily drawing circles on Maura's thigh with her fingertips, but froze when Maura's breath hitched.

"No. Don't stop," Maura said softly.

Jane turned into her more, braver with the words of encouragement. Jane's fingers made contact with the edge of the lace on Maura's hip and Maura bit her bottom lip, pushing the lower half of her body harder into Jane's leg.

"Maura, I don't want to do anything you don't want," Jane said quietly.

"There isn't anything I don't want."

At those words, Jane slid her hand higher on Maura's hip, pushing up the t-shirt and tightening her grip. She opened her mouth again, to ask Maura what it was she did want, but the doorbell rang before she could speak. "Uh. I'll get that."

Maura's face showed her disappointment at the interruption. She readjusted herself on the couch, the spell broken.

Jane hurried to the door, taking deep breaths as she went. It was Cailin.