A/N: I really do like Tommy and have been enjoying fleshing him out as a character. Also, next chapter is ultra-spicy.

"Hey, Jane, why is it that whenever we see each other, we're always workin' out?" Tommy, in a white-ribbed tank top and basketball shorts, sweated next to his sister on one of the benches in front of the dumbbell rack.

Jane's weight was much smaller than his, twenty pounds to his thirty, but she grunted through the last few curls of her superset before she answered him. "What? We're not always workin' out," she said, shaking out the pleasant burn in her biceps. She stood up and circled her seat to calm her antsy legs and elevated pulse.

Tommy guffawed, and one of the muscle-heads close to them glared. The Rizzoli siblings rolled their eyes. What the hell did he have to be mad at? The sun shined through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Crunch gym, the only membership that Tommy could afford since being released from prison, and upbeat pop music blared through the stereo at two PM.

Jane had joined up with Tommy in solidarity, but she had to admit it fit her needs pretty perfectly: open early, closed late, and had enough equipment to keep her in shape. She no longer needed the specialized training of her softball days, and so using this facility as an excuse to spend time with her baby brother was ideal. "What did we do last week?" he asked her.

She thought about it. "The batting cages? That doesn't count, we always hit the cages," she argued, sitting back down and wiping her face with her towel. Her white tank top was made for running, a little more billowy around her midsection compared to Tommy's, and her black shorts went to mid thigh instead of her knee, but they definitely resembled each other.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "And the week before that we played one-on-one out at Langone Park," he said assertively.

Jane had to give him that; a detective never rejected patterns. She walked over to the rack and contemplated the twenty-fives before finally grabbing them. "I guess you're right. I think maybe we're always exercising because otherwise we'd throttle each other."

"Maybe," Tommy chuckled, much more quietly this time. "I'm not complainin', sis, just wonderin'."

"I get it," Jane said. She distracted herself with hammer curls this time, remaining on her feet, popping the dumbbell up, and then releasing it slowly back down, engineering muscle fatigue with the control of an expert. "We just both got a lot of energy to burn, all the time. Maybe occupying our hands keeps us from doin' something stupid."

Tommy watched his sister, and then pulled his own weight from the rack to copy her movements. On its face, her statement rang true, and he knew it. They had always ran miles around Frankie, their parents, or anyone nearby, really. Even now, both standing still, their bodies vibrated, like they caught each other's resonating frequency and it set them into motion. It made him feel close to Jane when they sweated together, when they felt so connected physically, but he knew that it also created friction between them: they competed mercilessly. They threatened each other and battled each other. They broke things and they broke hearts, especially each other's, like when he got wasted once and stole her TV, or when she refused to call or visit his whole first year in jail.

And that's why he could sense the tumultuous undercurrent of her seemingly innocuous statement. He wanted to poke at it, but he refrained, thinking to himself about progress. "Well, no matter what we do, I'm usually havin' a good time. I missed you, Janie. When I was away."

Jane bit her lower lip as she finished her last two reps, and then dropped the dumbbells to the padded floor under her feet. "I missed you, too. And I… Tommy, I'm sorry that I didn't come see you, a'right? I was pissed and-"

"And you didn't want to say anything you regret, I know," he finished for her, giving her the kindest of his smiles.

They sat next to each other on their bench when he finished and she patted his knee. "Yeah. I didn't. Still not cool of me, yeah?"

"No, not cool of you," he agreed. "But understandable. I was in a bad way. But prison, believe it or not, straightened me out. Meanin' there's no way in hell I'm goin' back there."

It was Jane's turn to guffaw. "Ain't no gnocchi nights in prison, is there?" she teased.

"No, there ain't," Tommy said as he laughed. Then he turned towards her and his features were serious. "Ain't no Ma, no Frankie, no you, no Maura, neither. That was the worst part."

Jane nodded. She knew that was the part of incarceration that would kill Tommy, but it was also what gave her the most hope that when he got out, he'd never go back in. He was vibrant; he thrived on interactions with people; he was social and he was charming. He drew strength from it. He could be hard when he needed to, but to have to constantly guard himself would wear him down. Without his family, he'd struggle mightily. It seemed to have worked, too, because he had changed and was making a concerted effort.

And all of these thoughts initially obscured the meaning of his statement, until Jane realized what exactly he had just said. "No Maura, huh?" she finally asked, and she was just as serious as him. The weights were forgotten at her feet.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, no embarrassment in sight. "There are definitely no Mauras in an all-men's prison," he stated.

Jane chuckled humorlessly one time. "You got that right," she stood up and snatched the weights back into a perpendicular grip. "So, you and her. That a thing?"

Tommy joined her again, and he felt the tension coming from her body. "More a fling than a thing. We're just takin' things nice and slow, seein' what happens," he said. He gave into the impulse to needle his sister, the one he had nobly ignored minutes before, and now he was even lying about his arrangement with Maura just to see what about it had Jane in knots. Well, lying was a stretch - the syntax of his statement was the truth, even if the semantics weren't.

"Mmm," Jane hummed grumpily. "You should tread lightly with that, Tom. Maura's had a lotta heart ache in her life when it comes to guys. Just be careful you don't add to it."

"It ain't even like that," Tommy rebutted, "we're just havin' fun."

"I thought you were takin' things slow, seein' where they led," Detective Rizzoli came out, triceps on display with the pulls she was now doing.

Tommy bristled at having been caught in his fib, and also at the way Jane was scolding him. How was any of this her business, anyway? "And that can still be true if we're not that serious. That's how things start out, Janie."

He said Janie in the way that made Jane growl. Condescending, not affectionate. "Sure. But Maura's not the fling type. She deserves more than that."

"What if that's what she wants? Shouldn't she decide that?" Tommy asked, and damn, sometimes he could drop some truth. Jane gritted her teeth.

"Yeah, she should. But that's on her. I'm talkin' to you. Treat her right - be very careful with her, or I'll have to get involved."

Tommy laughed meanly. "You gonna kick my ass?"

"I'm serious," Jane warned. "That's my best friend. I'd kill for her, Tommy."

Revelation hit Tommy square between the eyes. Guilt hovered not too far away, but pettiness ruled the moment. "Oh," he said, and it dripped extra enticingly.

Jane couldn't resist and reached out for it. "Oh what?" she snapped. The weights clattered heavily onto the padding and she assumed her stance, the one Tommy'd seen a hundred times when he was an unruly teenager: Jane's boxer stance. She'd taken up the sport in high school and had been pretty good, especially as a southpaw. Unfortunately, the family's hands had been so full with Tommy's antics that she'd really only practiced that devastating left hook on him, and not much in competition.

Another thing he'd taken from her. He tsked and it was half contempt for Jane, half contempt for himself. "That's what all this is about. You want her, too."

Jane froze, and he swore he saw her left fist getting ready for war. To her credit, she held it at her side despite her darker desires. "That's bullshit."

"Is it?" he taunted, "It don't seem like bullshit to me. I see how you cater to her. You're mad she chose me."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about, so I suggest you shut your mouth," growled Jane, stepping into his space.

He knew she was real mad because she wasn't cussing.

"Again, before what? Before you flatten me out? Huh? In a crowded gym of all places? Get over it, Janie. Maura and me are doin' this because we want to. We like it, we like each other. So get your head outta your ass and get over it. I'm goin' on the treadmill and then I'm walkin' home."

With that, he stalked to the other side of the building to the cardio machines, and left her alone. She didn't chase him, because she had learned not to over the course of his young life. It was futile when they were both angry. So, she lowered herself down onto the bench and hung her head. Sweat trickled down her back and peppered her face. As she sat, it felt cold on her skin, until unbidden thoughts of Maura and her brother in bed entered her mind. She gagged and banished them, but they were soon replaced with thoughts of Maura alone: Maura smiling at her, Maura laughing at one of her dumb jokes, Maura relaying the results of a tox screen to her. Maura hugging Angela, Maura taping Jane's ankles before a pickup game, Maura naked. Maura naked and flushed, Maura naked and flushed and writhing underneath Jane's own body.

Fuck.

"Hey, c'mere," Angela Rizzoli poked her head out of the guest house door about an hour and a half later, snatching at Jane's bare arm.

Jane, just back from the gym, swerved wildly to avoid being yanked into the house. "Ah, what the hell, Ma?" She felt clammy and gross, and needed a shower. And against her better judgment, she'd decided to do that in Maura's guest bathroom before their hangout, rather than at her own apartment. So, here she stood, hair pulled back with wisps of it just by her temples, shirt sticky, duffle bag on her shoulder full of clean clothes she wanted desperately to change into.

Angela cared about none of it. Her second attempt to reel Jane in was successful, and she slammed the door shut as Jane stumbled forward. "What the hell me? What the hell you," she whispered harshly. "Why is your brother sulking?"

"Why are you whispering? We're alone in your house," Jane griped as she finally freed her arm.

"Stop deflecting," Angela warned. She crossed her arms. "I called Tommy about a half hour ago and he was pissed. He said he was walking home from the gym. Walking home? He went with you! You have a car!"

"Ow!" Jane said as the inevitable hand came in contact with the back of her head. Her duffle dropped to the carpet, and her mother tapped her foot impatiently. "Tommy is a grown man. He can do whatever he wants. He's also able-bodied and the gym is like five blocks from his apartment."

"That's not the point! What did you say to him?" Angela shot back, but even as she shouted she was pulling a seat away from the kitchen table. "Sit. You're lucky I just made tea," she said.

Jane sat, huffing as she heaved her body into the wood-back chair. She hung her head on her crossed arms on the tabletop, taking a moment to herself just so that she could prepare for the coming onslaught. At least Angela rewarded her with a glass filled to the brim with iced tea, a slice of lemon wedged on the top. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Angela sat next to her with her own glass. "Now I know you said something dumb."

"Excuse me?"

"Who says, 'I didn't say anything that wasn't true' and isn't guilty?"

"I-"

"Uh uh. Did you say something about him being in prison? He did his time, Jane. You need to let him move on," Angela interrupted.

Jane rubbed her face with vigor. "No, Ma. I actually apologized for not going to see him that first year."

"I'm not stupid. That's not the only thing you said, otherwise, he'd be sitting here with you. So… what did you say?"

"We talked about his love life," said Jane. "And you know how it goes when we talk about that."

Angela rolled her eyes, this time not at Jane but at her youngest son. "Who's he dating now? Is he back with that Brenda girl? If he is, he can kiss his sobriety goodbye."

Jane shook her head and avoided her mother's gaze. "No, thank god."

"Thank god is right," said Angela, "is this new girl just as bad?"

"Uh no. The new one is way too good for him. The new one is way too good for anybody, really, but especially for him."

Alarm bells rang in Angela's head. She crossed one jean-clad leg over another. "Well, when has that ever been Tommy's problem," she said, no question in her voice. The statement itself was an invitation to a conversation within a conversation.

"Yeah," Jane paid the toll, and then they were off.

"How long has he been seeing this new girl?"

"Uh a few weeks, maybe? Not a long time."

"And he really likes her, huh? Like he's serious about her?"

"No. That's why we fought. He really should be, but he's not. He's just messing around."

"And you told him he shouldn't. Did you convince him? To take her seriously?"

"No. I feel like I just pushed him in the opposite direction."

"His stubborn streak is worse than yours. You know you can't make him do anything, Jane," Angela leaned back, giving Jane space to feel the emotion starting to creep over her face. "But is that what you really want? Do you really want to push him to do that?"

Jane chewed her bottom lip in thought. Whatever she said next would be an admission, whether affirmative or negative. "I don't know. It just seems like a thing he should do, you know? It boggles my mind that he doesn't want to."

"Because she's so great? This girl he's seeing?" Angela prodded.

"Yeah, the woman he's seeing is pretty great. And he's not really acting like it," Jane replied quietly. When her mother took her hand, she knew she'd been heard, even if she wasn't sure she wanted to be.

"Well, somehow, she'll figure out what she's worth. Whether it's with Tommy, or someone who… who really cares about her. If what you're saying is true."

"I don't want to minimize her view in all of this either," said Jane, in a voice truest to her own. "She seems to be just as into the fling thing as he is. Maybe that's why they work."

"You gotta let people make their own decisions, Jane," Angela said after a few moments of pregnant pause. "That's why Tommy's upset with you. I bet it feels like you're meddling."

"From the supreme meddler? Really?" Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Real funny," Angela responded. "But you deserve some fun and happiness, too. Maybe stop thinking about them so much and start thinking about yourself. Go after you want, because he is."

Little did she know that this complicated Jane's feelings even further. Jane drank the last of her tea and sighed. "I don't know. My job isn't really set up for that."

Angela laughed loudly. "Wrong. Your job isn't set up for marriage, but it's the perfect job for a summer fling. I know I'm always on your ass to settle down, baby, but what's a few months of excitement? You're not Tommy's mother, I am. So stop worrying about whose pot he's stirring, and start worrying about whose you're going to."

"Ma!" Jane barked out a laugh, too, mostly out of shock. She smoothed her hand over the top of her head to ground herself. "You tellin' me to sleep around?"

Angela scoffed. "No! I am simply telling you to have some fun and let your hair down. And if you find someone who's as worth it as Tommy's new friend seems to be… maybe it could go somewhere. You never know."

Ah. "Yeah, Ma. You never know. Listen, can I borrow the shower? I feel like I smell." Jane asked as she got up for her bag.

"Uh uh," Angela said, in her own omniscient way. "I'm about to deep clean it. Ask Maura for hers instead."

Jane threw her head back and groaned. She had tried to be good, but everything pushed her in the direction of the main house just across the courtyard.