A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed so far! And to those of you who said you won't be checking this out because the storyline is not for you, I appreciate you keeping it cute and moving it along. Everyone has been respectful and if this isn't your cup of tea, I totally understand! However, I have to say, as the story develops, the only thing I won't tolerate is slut-shaming. So please don't! Thanks! I figure we can do one update a day until it is done since I have the entire thing finished.

Jane drummed her fingers against the steering wheel of her car, more to keep awake than anything else. Early morning sun blinded her, even with her aviators on, and she slowed down, flicking the blinker with her left middle finger as she made her way southwest toward Beacon Hill at an ungodly seven in the morning.

She thought it should be some sort of cosmic impossibility to murder someone on a Sunday - and it should be a crime to wake a detective up before nine on her day off. Not to mention, it was already hot: she already felt sweat sticking to the back of her shirt and her A/C blasted her face with minimal efficacy. The only thing bringing her some happiness was the thought of a cup of Maura's fancy-ass coffee waiting for her at the end of her drive. It would be her payment for taking them all the way out to Dorchester before the rest of the world woke up.

So, she took a deep breath and shook her shoulders out, mindful of the slam of her car door and trying to school her mood into something more subdued and less cranky. When she used her key and pushed her way into the front hall, she failed.

Maura stood at the island, pouring the very fancy coffee in question into two mugs, a bigger one for Jane, but she definitely was not ready to go to their crime scene. She wasn't ready to go anywhere. Her hair was mussed and the floral satin robe on her body was tied at an odd angle. It was clear that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, and it was clear that she hadn't slept much the night before. "Hi," she greeted Jane, and Jane scrunched her nose at the hoarseness in Maura's voice. It also heated up her skin in a way she wasn't ready to explore yet.

"Tommy? Really?" she replied, ignoring Maura's soft eyes for her and glaring with her own instead. How many times had she counseled against this? How many times had she told Maura to simply not? Maura only responded with a grin that was somehow both sheepish and self-satisfied. Jane's glower only intensified it. "Where's he at? Upstairs? I need to speak with him," Jane interrogated, but she turned on her heel toward the hallway before she could wait for an answer.

Maura looked on, confused, until epiphany rounded her mouth in a little 'o'. "He didn't stay the night, Jane," she called out, and Jane froze in place. "I assume he's still at your mother's."

"Perfect," Jane said to herself. The sarcasm, though quiet, was not lost on Maura, so she snatched Jane's forearm as she passed to keep her from going out the back door and to the guest house.

"Stop. Have your coffee while I get dressed," she ordered, but Jane's gaze still seemed dead-set on the door. "What is so urgent?"

"I need to tell him to be careful with you. You're ten times better than he could ever dream of dating, so he needs to act real right," Jane huffed, and then she faced Maura again, a strip of pink over her nose and cheeks, partly from her statement and partly from Maura's state of (un)dress.

Maura noticed - she noticed the way that Jane lingered on the opening of her robe and the way that Jane crossed her arms, probably to hide her own vulnerability. After all, she had just said something very soft. Maura then took the time to admire Jane back, especially how her legs went on forever in the slacks of her work suit, and how the combination of them with her blazer, juxtaposed with Maura's sleepwear, gave Jane an air of authority. Of seriousness. Adulthood looked good on her.

So did protectiveness. "Oh, Jane. That's…" she trailed off, genuinely touched. She pressed her fingertips to her chest.

"What?" Jane asked, already embarrassed by the gratitude in Maura's tone.

"That's sweet of you," Maura said, "but Tommy's not my boyfriend. In fact, I'm not interested in him that way. Not yet, anyway."

Jane raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What way are you interested, then?"

Maura smirked again and turned toward the sink to wash her hands. "The sexual way," she said over her shoulder, with a chuckle when Jane groaned.

"Ok, you know what? Forget I asked. Upstairs, let's go. We got a murder to solve, and you can't go lookin' like that." Cantankerous Jane was back, a mug in one hand, and the other shoving Maura's shoulder toward the staircase.

Maura laughed a little louder at the display. "No? You don't think I look good in what I have on?"

"Ha, ha," Jane deadpanned. "Get your ass upstairs."

"I don't think Janie was too happy that we sent her off alone," Tommy said when Maura sat down next to him. He put his hand on her own when she placed it in the minimal space between them. His large palm covered the top of her hand and then some, but he still artfully entwined their fingers together.

Maura allowed it, and the callouses above his palmar creases, just like Jane's but rougher, quickened her heartbeat. She hooked their thumbs and rubbed his with hers. "Maybe not. She hates to feel left out, even if she acts indifferent," she said.

His eyes lit up. He turned inward towards her and put his other hand on her knee. "Don't let her hear you say that," he play-warned her, and his voice reverberated against the top of her ribcage. "I meant what I said before, Maura. I really appreciate all you've done for me. And I really appreciate how well you know my family."

Maura felt herself growing hot when he used a fingertip to swirl patterns on the inside of her knee. She leaned into him then, close enough to taste the lemon cake they'd had for dessert on his breath. "Not that I don't love your family, but why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I think it'd be nice to show you how much I appreciate it," Tommy replied. When he kissed her, he freed his hands so that he could frame her face with them.

Though she'd denied him a few times before, this time, Maura didn't have the self-control. When his lips found hers, it was assertive and wet - he had the decency to constantly apply chapstick, something he had in common with his other siblings. The kiss itself was one she'd shared a thousand times with many different men, not earth-shattering, but a comfort zone and enough to spark deeper desires within her. She let her mind wander to that afternoon, to his immaculate torso, and then the kiss ignited.

He yelped into her mouth when she swung her body over his lap to straddle him, pulling at his shirt hem between them. He broke them apart to lift his arms over his head, and he laughed when she tugged so quickly she struggled with yanking it over his head. "Easy there, tiger," he said once he was free, and Maura kissed his teasing smile.

He returned it with fervor and grasped at her hips, kneading the flesh there so roughly it almost hurt. Maura groaned at the sensation. She put her hands out on Tommy's well developed pectorals to steady herself, and ended up kneading his 617 ink with her right. It was warm and she felt his thundering heart.

Tommy took a moment to breathe. Maura, his sister's best friend and the hottest woman he'd ever met, was currently in his lap, with clear intentions to take things further. He needed to indulge in the moment. "You like tattoos?" he asked, watching her watch his chest.

"Not usually," Maura admitted, and he had to stifle laughter at her frankness. "But I like yours because it reminds me of the three of you."

That was the right answer. His eyes changed; his tone changed. "Wanna take this upstairs?"

She nodded once and then crashed their lips together again. His tongue filled her, bordering on overwhelming, but it was a line Maura liked to hover over. She kept up with him gamely, and then he stood up, arm under her ass, and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hard belly, and he carried her all the way upstairs as she hugged his shoulders. "Second door on the right," she said, pumping words into him as he pumped ragged breaths into her.

He was grateful for the direction, and he kicked the ajar door open with his foot to reveal her expansive bedroom: a king-sized bed adorned with Four Seasons Collection sheets that cost far more than his monthly rent, luxury furniture, ornate built-in bookcases with titles that he'd never even heard of, and an ensuite that was bigger than his living room. He actually whistled. "You got quite the setup here."

"I'll give you a tour later," Maura said in between kisses to his mouth, his nose, his brow. "Right now I'd like you to put me on the bed."

"You got it," he replied, and then proceeded to throw her onto the mattress. She laughed at the shock of her back hitting her duvet, the blowback sending a few of her throw pillows to the floor. He laughed, too, and then climbed up the bed over her as she tossed her blouse to the side and shimmied out of her shorts. Suddenly, he caught sight of her all-white, lacy, undergarments, and things weren't so funny anymore. "You're so hot," he breathed out, blue eyes scanning her from head to toe.

She ran a hand through her hair and hummed into another short kiss. "I'm noticing that this is high praise from you Boston-Italians," she said.

He nodded silently. When she ran a hand between his legs over his shorts, he took in a sharp gasp of air. He was ready for her, and he just needed to catch her up. The touch froze him for an instant, but then spurred him into action. He kicked his shorts off, and then his plaid boxers, and kissed his way down Maura's abdomen to the front of her thong. "Can I take this off?" He asked, vowels dark from vocal disuse, pupils dark from desire.

"Please do," Maura said coyly. He did, and she arched her back when his tongue made contact with bare, wet, skin. He parted her, swiped through her, and the first few times made her moan. Soon after, though, his movements became repetitive, imitative, and she decided that she needed something else. "Come up here," she told him, running her fingers affectionately over his hair.

He obeyed with a boyish smile, and though she needed him in other ways, it sparked that familial, friendly feeling for him that burrowed deep into her heart for all the Rizzolis. "I'm comin'," he called back, and then crawled up her body. She discarded her bra so that they were both completely naked, and he spent several moments with his hands and his mouth on her breasts before settling between her open knees and kissing her again. "Are we doin' this?"

Maura chuckled once. "I think we're having far too much fun to stop now, don't you?"

"Hell yeah," Tommy answered. Their lips came together, kisses changing from sweet to passionate, to wanton. Right when he pushed up on his palms to guide himself into her, Maura turned her body to open her nightstand drawer. When she pulled out a condom, he spoke again. "I can uh, I can pull out," he said.

Maura's laughter was jarringly loud and short. "Oh, you'll absolutely be doing that. While also wearing this," she stated, without room for argument.

Tommy, hardhead that he was, tried anyway, but at least he tried with charm. "You don't trust me, Maura?"

"Am I the only person you've slept with in the last six months?" She asked matter-of-factly. "And don't lie, because I will get out of this bed and go into that very large walk-in closet to put on all my clothes."

"No, you're not," he said without shame or reservation.

"Am I the only person you're currently sleeping with?"

"Also no."

"Then you can put this on, or you can go back to your mother's place," Maura said with a wink. Tommy stared at her a moment, hoping for one last win as a result of his good looks, but she didn't budge. He grabbed the package and opened it with his teeth. The aggression in the action jolted up Maura's spine. She reached out to help him, sat up to take him in her hands and put it on him. "Now that we've established that ground rule, let's have more of that fun."

He entered her swiftly, and spent the next few hours making good on that suggestion.

Maura had indeed made herself presentable for the day, now with hair pulled back and sensible heels on her feet. She wore a gray pencil skirt and a white ruffled blouse, with a navy blazer with a much more feminine cut than Jane's own.

Jane.

Jane was stalking the grounds around the house Maura currently kneeled in, her attitude strangely dour, even for a Sunday morning on which she could have been sleeping in. Well, it seemed strange to her partner, and Barry had said as much when Jane suddenly announced she was going to inspect the perimeter. It was strange to her brother, too, and Frankie had scoffed when she clipped his shoulder on her way out. Hell's wrong with her? He asked the two of them.

Maura shrugged, only able to lie corporeally. She supposed she knew why Jane was upset. Jane had tried to convince her countless times that sleeping with Tommy was not a good idea. And, she had directly opposed all those warnings and slept with him the night before anyway. It had been satisfying like she knew it would be; he was in shape and he was kind and he looked very nice in her bed. But, Jane thought that that meant there were feelings, and Maura also knew that even if she tried to convince Jane that sex didn't mean love just as hard as Jane tried to convince her that sex with Tommy was a disaster, they wouldn't get anywhere. The entanglement of orgasm and emotion was as ingrained in Jane as anything else, and she really would see it as a great tragedy if Maura, someone as bright and rich and accomplished as Maura, had emotions for her youngest brother.

Maura did have emotions for Tommy, but not those kind, and even if the only thing she felt for him was attraction, Jane wouldn't understand. Sigh. Perhaps some kind of apology was in order.

"Maura?" she turned suddenly at the sound of her name, and Barry was there, standing over her and trying hard not to look at the distended body of their victim. He looked like he'd called her name a few times, but of course he was much too polite to say so.

"Yes, Detective Frost?" she answered professionally.

"I was wondering if it would even be possible to give me a time-of-death ballpark," he said, clearing his throat to hide a gag.

"Well, he's been here more than a few hours," Maura said, and that much was obvious. The heat bloated him, and he had oozed onto the kitchen floor. "But the lack of central air, and the murky timeline offered by the person who found him, as well as the summer heat all complicate things. I need to run more tests. I can tell you that he bled out, though."

"Figured it was worth a try," he said, and then chanced a glance at the slash in the middle-aged man's throat. Maura had said it went deep enough to incise the space between the first and second tracheal rings. He made sure he didn't focus too hard on that detail, but she was right. A wound like that would certainly be fatal, and they still had no idea who might have inflicted it on him. There were signs of forced entry on the back bedroom window, and Jane had decided to take a peek outside for any clues.

"I admire your tenacity," Maura said to Barry finally. She stood up and patted his arm. "I'm going to release the body for transport and then check on my ride."

Barry smirked at her choice of phrase. "Approach with caution, Doc," he teased. "She's on one this morning."

"I'll see what I can do," she said as she made her way toward the slider leading to the backyard of their victim's home.

"The Homicide Department would appreciate it," he shouted after her, and she shook her head on the way out.

Jane stood right at the tampered-with window, her wrists crossed in front of the crotch of her pants as she directed the CSRU tech which paint chips and tool marks to photograph. When she saw Maura approach, she didn't face her, and Maura only knew that Jane noticed her because Jane's shoulders relaxed the way they always did when Maura came around.

"Thanks, man," she said to the beefy guy with the camera around his neck. He nodded to her in acknowledgement because it was hot as hell and they were in direct sunlight. He sweated through his BPD-issue cap and retreated hastily to find some shade.

"Find what you were looking for?" Maura said, sidling up to Jane once they were alone. She looked ahead at the window instead of directly at her best friend.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't poke around with something already in mind," Jane gruffed. "And never this early in an investigation."

"That makes you like me," Maura said quietly, stepping ever closer. Then, she just slightly knocked their shoulders together. "Jane, I want to apologize."

"For what?" Jane asked, and Maura watched hope flicker in her eyes. She would need to tread lightly here, something she struggled to do.

"For making you feel like I didn't listen to you."

"You didn't listen to me."

"I know. But you don't want me to sleep with your brother because you don't think he deserves me. I'm telling you I'm sleeping with him because it's a fun thing to do and I'm attracted to him. He doesn't have me. Not like you think having sex with someone means," Maura explained.

Jane sniffed loudly, as she often did when she was struggling with what to say. "Maura, I'm sorry. It's not my business, really. I know that. So I'm just gonna say this one thing and then I'm gonna drop it, ok? Then we can go back to normal."

"Ok," Maura agreed. She owed Jane that.

"I'm not pissed because I think he doesn't deserve you. I'm pissed because I think you deserve better than him. And I know that sounds rough because he's my brother, but Tommy will take and take and take, Maura. And I've learned after a lotta years that I can't be responsible for him. No one can, except for him. But I can be responsible for you. I can look out for you. And I'm just trying to tell you that getting involved with him? Loving him? It takes a lot out of a person," said Jane. Maura had never heard her say more words at once, and with each one, Jane got lighter, unburdened herself.

"And I'm just trying to tell you that I don't love him. I don't really plan on loving him, Jane. Not like that," Maura reiterated.

And finally, Jane seemed to accept that. "A'right. Walk with me through the house? I could use your eyes."

What appeared to be a one-off robbery gone wrong on Sunday morphed into three other break-in murders by Wednesday. Jane and Barry had narrowed their suspect list to one person, and spent all night, into the next afternoon, tracking his movements. He worked at a hardware store in Dorchester; had access to the types of blades that killed the people he left on their kitchen, living room, bedroom floors; and a history of armed robbery for which he had gone to prison.

He had returned to the latest home he'd terrorized, presumably to resume the thievery of jewelry and other goods that had been interrupted by a neighbor's 911 call. Following their stake-out and eventual take-down, a confession came - but only after four hours of artful questioning between Detectives Rizzoli and Frost.

In short, it was 7:30 on a Thursday night and Jane was exhausted. She also hadn't talked to Maura in most of those days outside of discussing forensics and various anatomical atrocities committed against the people on morgue slabs. Hence why she stood outside of Maura's door now, key in hand and ready to step in. She wanted nothing more than a Peroni on her lips and some conversation that had nothing to do with death. But when she pushed into the hallway, intent on relaxation, she tensed instead.

Maura and Tommy alternated chopping vegetables and stirring something delicious-smelling on the stove. He had a lemon slice in his mouth like a smile and Maura laughed airily at it.

Jane's alarm bells rang out in her head, and she tried not to think about feelings, ones Maura said she didn't have, and trust her instead. But they looked real chummy. "Oh, uh hey."

Tommy spit the lemon out and replaced it with his actual grin. "Hey, Janie!" He greeted her brightly.

Maura smirked as she watched them, mostly at Jane's prickly posture, such a contrast to her brother's genuine happiness to see her. "Are you hungry?" she asked her, wiping her hands on the towel over her shoulder and crossing the living room to meet Jane in the hall.

"Yeah, but If it's uh, date night or somethin', I don't want to intrude. I can pop over to Ma's," Jane said, unable to be anything but kind when Maura approached. But then Tommy came over as well and she melted completely when he hugged her with one arm and kissed the side of her head.

"Ain't nobody on a date, sis," he said. "But there is chicken. Come have some."

"Chicken, huh? You learn to cook more than just cereal?" she said to Tommy as he led them all to the kitchen.

"Ha ha," he griped. "Maybe Maura's good for me after all."

Jane glared at his turned back, and then Maura smacked hers playfully. "Stop. He is helping me with dinner and was kind enough to offer you some. Play nice."

Jane sighed, but nodded. When Tommy cracked open a beer, something he no longer drank, and handed it to her with a loving look of self-satisfaction, she sniffled.

This was her baby brother, and her best friend; of course she could enjoy their company. In the end, that was what mattered most: being with them. The rest would fall into place.