Maura sighed contentedly as she stepped out of her shower, steam and wet heat engulfing the room and her body as she unraveled her hair from its ponytail. The hot shower was exactly what she needed – the scalding water soothed her aches; burned away the memories of the day and the feeling of Dennis Rockmond's hands on her skin. It was pleasant and calming; a perfect distraction from the tumultuous end of her day.
The blonde ME dressed in her pajamas; silk shorts and tank in the soft shade of green as she towel-dried the ends of her hair that hadn't escaped the spray of her shower. The sight that greeted her as she entered the bedroom brought an affectionate smile to Maura's face and a surge of warmth in her chest. Sprawled comfortably on her 'side' of the bed, Jane was leaned against the headboard, snoring quietly in her REM cycle sleep; usually a very common sight after draining cases or brushes with death, but there was one very small difference this time around.
Nestled against her chest, supported by Jane's protective hand splayed across his little newborn back, Wyatt slept on peacefully; completely unfazed by the rumbling of the detective's snores in her chest.
Maura sighed quietly, shaking her head fondly as she took in the sight before her. It was an adorable sight; a peek into the softer side of Jane Rizzoli that only Maura had been blessed to see up close.
Contrary to the Boston detective's seemingly surly disposition; Jane was really quite a softy underneath.
At least, she was when it came to the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
Stepping lightly around the bed, Maura drew back the covers on her side, but paused in her step before she could slip under the covers beside Jane. Wyatt was still asleep on her chest, on his front, and Maura frowned uncertainly at the slumbering baby's snuffling breaths.
They would need to move him.
Gently, she reached out for Jane's shoulder, grasping the bony joint in her hand lightly. Anything harsher and she would wake the detective with fear. "Jane," she whispered.
At the touch of fingers on her skin, Jane's eyes snapped open, dark eyes coming into focus almost immediately as she sat up; Wyatt tucked protectively against her chest. Her entire body tensed; muscles roping her arms and shoulders coiled tight as she stared blearily across the bed at the offending shadow.
When she recognized the apologetic face and the soft fingers grasping the skin of her shoulder, Jane frowned at Maura through the dim moonlight creeping in through the windows. "Maura?" she rasped, shifting Wyatt in her hold and releasing a hand to run through her tangled curls. "What's wrong?"
Maura knelt closer on the bed, the mattress dipping under her slight weight as she glided her fingers down along Jane's shoulder onto her arm where she held Wyatt. Her smile was apologetic and soft when Jane's eyes tracked her hand, falling on the baby.
"We need to move him," she told the dark-haired woman quietly, her voice no higher than a husky whisper to avoid waking the baby. "It's not highly encouraged to co-sleep with infants under one year of age – there are risks of smothering and SIDS -."
"Maura," Jane interrupted her suddenly, holding her free hand up. "It's the middle of the night – I've got half a brain functioning right now and the left side of my body falling asleep on the count of Junior drooling on me here." She waved her hand in a gesture for Maura to speed things up. "Simplify it, please."
The ME blushed prettily in the dim room, clearing her throat quietly when Jane smiled wryly at her. "It's not safe for him to sleep with us," she explained, tucking her feet under her as she leaned towards Jane and held out her arms for the baby. "The mortality rate for infants who fall victim to SIDS from co-sleeping with their parents is higher than when asleep in their own beds…I think it's best if Wyatt sleeps in his bassinet to keep him comfortable, and to give you freedom to move around." Maura sat back on her feet, regarding Jane anxiously as the woman's face seemed grim in the shadows across her face.
They were silent for a moment; Maura watching uncertainly and Jane contemplating distractedly before the darker woman leaned forward suddenly and carefully placed the sleeping baby in Maura's arms. She said nothing, already sliding out of bed and staggering to her feet. It was dark and she was sleep-hazed; keeping her balance was a task in itself. But Maura had a point, and Maura needed something, so Jane obliged her.
"Jane…?" Maura called to her in confusion, holding Wyatt close to her as she watched the taller woman stumble out of the room and disappear into the dark hall. The blonde frowned as quiet clattering and low muttering came from the hallway, jolting slightly when there was a loud thud and Jane's voice swearing at something viciously. Maura made to move off the bed to investigate, but Jane had re-appeared in her bedroom doorway, feet stumbling and stubbing over the bassinet legs as she hauled the contraption into the room.
With a triumphant huff, Jane set the bassinet down by the bed, straightening the device to her satisfaction and stepping back with a resolute grunt. "There," she said, stepping back with her arms akimbo as she accessed her handiwork. Upright, sturdy, and covered in something so frilly that only Maura would pick – yes, this was the perfect bassinet for the kid. Jane fluffed the tiny pillow inside the bassinet and draped the baby blue blanket over her arm, waiting quietly as Maura bent over to place Wyatt in the sleeper.
Aside from being woken from her much-needed sleep, Jane couldn't help but smile quietly to herself as she watched Maura adjust Wyatt this way and that, smiling even bigger and feeling even funnier in her chest when Maura placed a loving kiss on Wyatt's forehead. She stepped up to the blonde, one hand skimming the gauzy material covering her back before settling in its place at the small of her back. Maura shifted aside for Jane to slide in beside her, and the Italian woman draped the blanket over Wyatt's sleeping figure, tucking it neatly around the edges and even sparing a gentle brush of her hand over his head before straightening to Maura with a sleepy smile.
"Come on, Maura," she husked, long fingers looping around the blonde's slender wrist. "It's bedtime for us too."
Humming quietly, the ME didn't protest, instead Maura gladly trailed after Jane back into bed, curling onto her side as Jane rounded the bed and settled back into her side as well. Maura smiled at Jane against her pillow, reaching out to squeeze the brunette's hand slightly. "Goodnight," she whispered, and turned over to face the windows.
As expected, the warmth of Jane's body came pressed up behind her in a matter of moments, firm lines and muscles that Maura could feel through the thin materials of their sleepwear, and smiled inwardly when Jane's arm wrapped around her waist almost possessively. She felt Jane sigh, and she could smell the mint of her toothpaste and musk she came to associate with the detective.
The hot gust of breath against her ear tickled, and Maura couldn't smother the shiver dancing down her spine when Jane spoke. "G'night, Maura."
Tentatively, Maura's hand glided down, fingertips grazing the taut skin of Jane's arm wrapped around her waist. Behind her she felt Jane relax even deeper into the later stages of sleep, and Maura found the burst of courage in her chest to rest her hand over Jane's. A small, pleased smile graced the ME's face, and Maura finally settled into her own sleep cycle with little fanfare.
Unbeknownst to her though; Jane was grinning right along her.
There was crying.
There was loud crying.
Jane groaned into Maura's thick curls, burrowing deeper into the woman's sweet scented hair and pressing firmer against Maura's soft skin. She was rather certain it was real crying too, because she didn't dream about crying babies, unless someone counted that one time she had been shot and then doped on morphine for the pain. But then that time it was a crying mutant ninja turtle baby, and it kept crying that it wasn't a turtle, it was a tortoise, and –
The crying grew louder.
"Gaaaaah what…?" Reluctantly, Jane pulled her face from Maura's hair, glaring through squinted eyes out at the room in search of the source of cries. It took a moment for her eyes to clear, and then another moment for her mind to slowly connect the dots before Jane groaned again, swearing under her breath as she saw the baby's little fists flailing about over the bassinet rim. She carefully extracted her arm from under Maura, eliciting a protesting moan from the blonde, but Jane forced herself to focus on the crying boy, and to getting him to quiet down before he woke Maura too.
Unfortunately the jostling from Jane wriggling her hand from under her stirred Maura, and the blonde moaned groggily as she turned towards the woman. Jane knelt on a knee on the bed, hovering over the sleep-clouded ME, murmuring hushed but hurried croons to the woman. "S'alright, babe, go back to sleep – s'just the baby," she croaked, in the heady early morning and thick Boston cold air. Jane cleared her throat discreetly, waving the woman back to sleep; rubbing soothing circles along Maura's arm to urge her back to her dreams.
"Go back to sleep," she said again, gentler this time. "I'll take care of it."
Maura mewled and moaned into her pillow, lifting her head and peering through her tousled-though-still-amazingly-in-place bedhead to watch Jane lean over the side of the bassinet. She watched in quiet, rapt attention (well, as rapt as she could be at three in the morning) as Jane's sinewy, tanned arms moved in the dark; the shadowed lines of her arms and her profile and her shoulders beautifully sharp in the dim lighting as she lifted Wyatt from the bassinet.
Everything about Jane screamed 'hard-ass'; from the muscles roping her body to the dark, Italian features and her trademark gravelly husk – it screamed power and strength and demanded obedience from even the seediest of criminals. Every fiber of her being radiated an aura of control and authority; even fear and dislike in some cases to certain people. But never had Maura ever felt anything but safety and comfort around Jane.
With Jane around, Maura knew she was safe – from vile humans to spiders and unexpected visits from her mother. Maura always knew that Jane would keep her safe. Even as she was held at knife-point by that…fiend, all Maura could think of was Jane; Jane running to her rescue, gun drawn – Jane beating Dennis into a bloody pulp…
Jane holding her in her strong arms, the warmth of her wrapped tight around Maura; protective, possessive.
But now, in the quiet moonlight and dark space of her bedroom, Maura was watching Jane cradle Wyatt so gently; the baby whom she'd resented until the moment she'd found him at their doorstep. This was the side of Jane Rizzoli that not many knew existed.
This was the side only Maura had ever seen.
For whatever reason – which Maura would later on rationalize as her still-shocked system reacting to nearly being killed again -, there was an odd warmth that spread across her body at her thought of Jane. It was stronger than usual; more profound than the friendly affection she usually felt for the tall, lanky woman. No, this was no longer merely friendly affections she was feeling – but could she really define these feelings yet?
Maura shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind as Jane finally soothed Wyatt into a snuffling whine. She slid out of bed, despite Jane's protests of having things under control. Jane always had things under control, but Maura liked to know that she was helping either way.
"I'll get his bottle," she told Jane quietly, smiling warmly at the woman when Jane huffed at her. Maura reached out for Jane's arm, squeezing the limb in her hand gently, and their eyes met in the darkness. "Settle down with him; I won't be long."
Jane watched, quite speechless and somewhat dumbfounded with sleep (or was it perhaps lust and infatuation) as Maura spun on her heels and disappeared down the hall. "M'kay," she mumbled, to no one in particular before slumping back down onto the bed with a hefty thump.
Whipped, Jane Rizzoli. You are completely, utterly, astoundingly whipped.
But damn if feeling whipped don't feel good though.
