Something Old, Something New (Chapter 6 of ?)
Authors: roughian and foreverleyton
Rating: NC-17, overall. It's bbbaaaaccckkkk...
Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.
Chapter 4 Summary: Less murder and more…other things. Jane and Maura conquer dating and Callie and Arizona visit the in laws.
A/N We both want to apologize for the delay. Our longest time between chapters yet! Our work lives have gotten busy lately and have made it hard to find time to write together (it doesn't help that Leyton is the slowest editor around, either). But don't worry, we are committed to this story and having way too much fun to stop before it's finished. Thanks for your patience.
Callie dragged her teeth along the spot on Arizona's neck that had recently been left with a small bruise, the lovechild of alcohol mixed with need. Arizona arched her back, wishing the hand that was raking none too gently down her thigh would travel back up and relieve her of the mounting tension she so desperately wanted relieved. Callie felt the hands on her back dig in, fingernails biting into slightly perspiring flesh while Arizona let off a loose moan of "Calliope, please." The Latina hissed a breath at the stinging down her back, panting at the look of Arizona underneath her, cheeks red and mouth parted, eyes fighting to stay open.
Callie would be lying if she said she didn't love a vulnerable Arizona and took the opportunity to hoist the blonde's right leg over her shoulder, her fingers slipping through slick, hot heat to find purchase on Arizona's clit. She was treated with a moan of relief—a fluttery, delicious sound that caused every muscle in Callie's body to tense. She wanted Arizona to make that sound again, wanted to hear her scream. To come.
Callie's fingers swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves, patience depleting when Arizona arched off the bed again, her hands moving to tangle in long, dark locks. Callie gasped when the tug was less than gentle and sought out Arizona's mouth for a heated kiss, trying as best she could to keep it going between the mutual panting and moaning.
Arizona cried out again as Callie's fingers left her clit, toes flexing in response to the fingers curling inside of her, hitting all the spots that made her eyes fight rapidly to stay open. Callie was struggling to breathe evenly as Arizona tipped her head back, crying out. The sounds were like magic. Callie had become so accustomed to quiet, secret sex—which was hot, in it's own way. But listening to the symphony of sounds coming from Arizona was a thrill she could barely remember. Callie wanted her wife hoarse in the morning, coquettishly covering her bruises with a sweet little giggle and blush while she let Callie soothe her war wounds with gentle kisses and caresses.
But now was not the time for teasing; now all Callie wanted was for Arizona to come. She could feel her wife tensing around her fingers, feel Arizona's hand revisiting the stinging streaks on her back. Her thumb came up to join the tantalizing rhythm of her fingers and Arizona gasped, muffling her scream into the hotel's pillow. Callie stopped abruptly when she noticed her wife's actions.
"No, no way. We are spending hundreds of dollars to stay in this hotel. I want you to scream."
Arizona turned her head out of the pillow and smiled slyly at her wife, even as a whimper trembled from her lips when Callie moved deliberately inside her. She used her hand buried in sweaty curls to pull the brunette back down to her, tugging Callie's bottom lip between her teeth and soothing the burn with her tongue. "I'll scream," she panted against Callie's mouth, "when you make me come."
Taking her wife by surprise, Arizona slid her leg off Callie's shoulder and wrapped it around her waist, slipping a hand under Callie's leg at the same time and flipping them over with one smooth, practiced move.
"Fuck," Callie moaned when she found herself on her back. "I love when you do that," she admitted, arching her back when Arizona ran her slick heat directly over Callie's.
"I know you do," Arizona smirked, rising up to straddle her wife. Grasping Callie's hand, Arizona pulled it back to her center and shivered when Callie immediately resumed her previous touch, her thumb brushing Arizona's clit while two fingers pushed inside her. From this position Arizona could move, riding her hips against Callie's fingers and taking the pace quickly from languid to frantic.
As much as Arizona loved this position, she knew Callie loved it even more. She knew how much Callie liked to watch her wife, to run one hand up and down Arizona's torso and palm her breast while the blonde rode herself to her own pleasure. When Callie bent her knees and lifted her hips, bucking her hand deeper into Arizona's surging hips, Arizona gave into the intense pleasure thrumming through her body; she arched into Callie, dipped her head back, and screamed.
God, Arizona," Callie mumbled as she listened to her name ricocheting off the walls in the expansive suite. She loved hearing it, especially when Arizona's voice cracked and tapered off to soft, whimpering sounds before the blonde collapsed on top of Callie.
Callie ran a soothing hand over Arizona's back, still feeling the tremors wrack through her—tiny aftershocks to one powerful earthquake of an orgasm. She felt it the moment Arizona finally relaxed, her breath evening out to a steady rhythm. Callie knew that tell; Arizona had most likely fallen asleep, alcohol and sex draining her of energy.
Gently removing her fingers, Callie started fishing for the blankets that had been kicked far to the left of the lavish king sized bed. Arizona's head lifted from her chest, sly smile spreading across her still pink face. Callie knew that look, watching one of Arizona's eyebrows arch, her tongue swiping across her lower lip, causing Callie to shiver.
"Sleepy?" Arizona asked as she picked her head up, sliding her hands down Callie's arms to her hands, tangling her fingers with those of her wife, delighting in the sensation of the wedding ring against her opposing hand. She hoped that feeling would never get old.
"Mm, thought you'd passed out on me," Callie grinned as she felt Arizona slip their tangled hands above her head.
"Nope," Arizona chirped and leaned down to nip at Callie's lower lip with her teeth, tugging on it.
"Good," Callie said when Arizona released her lip. "'Cause I'd be very disappointed if we went to sleep without you fucking me."
Arizona shivered; she loved how bold Callie was in the bedroom (and in all aspects of life, actually). "That would be stupid of me."
"It would be," Callie teased as Arizona dipped in again, pressing kisses against that tan neck.
Arizona smiled when she heard Callie gasp, untangling their fingers so that she could touch every inch of that golden skin properly. She started at Callie' strong shoulders, running down along the curve of her biceps and then against her forearms. Callie shuddered at the tickling sensation of those nimble fingertips, arching her hips in hopes of redirecting their attentions elsewhere. Arizona picked up on it, dragging her hands down along the curve of Callie's breasts, then against her torso—hips—thighs.
"Spread your legs," Arizona said softly, Callie thrilling to the slight raspy quality of her voice as she did as she was told.
Arizona began her descent, kissing first between Callie's breasts and then making a beeline to her thighs, shimmying further down the bed as she slipped between Callie's legs, strong thighs instinctively slipping over Arizona's shoulders. Callie gasped when Arizona bit against the inside of her thigh, soothing it over with her tongue. But Callie wanted that tongue a little higher, a little to the right, her hands tangling in impossibly soft blonde locks in the hopes of encouraging her wife to where she wanted her.
Arizona, usually patient, usually intent on teasing Callie till coming was the only option next to being driven crazy, had to give in. She pressed a kiss in the crease just shy of where Callie wanted her to be, listening to the whimpered plea from her wife. Arizona consented, running the flat of her tongue through Callie's slick folds and feeling the tremors in the thighs secured around her.
Callie's fists tightened in Arizona's hair, pushing her closer. Arizona moaned, the rumbling feeling exceptionally good as the blonde continued those long, languid motions with her tongue. Arizona knew Callie needed more though, and she slipped a hand from one of those thighs to drive two fingers inside of her wife. Callie gasped when Arizona's tongue started more definitive motions against her clit, circling and flicking alternating maddeningly with sucking.
Their long weekend of sex—giggling morning sex, quiet comfort sex, against the wall tipsy sex—should have lent Callie patience. Restraint. But the freedom to make love to her wife whenever she wanted, however she wanted, as many times as she wanted, had Callie wound tight with a desperation that their busy life rarely had time to accommodate. So when Arizona pumped her fingers in and out, sliding deep, and sucked Callie's clit into her mouth where her tongue could skim rapidly across the sensitive nerves, Callie felt the orgasm curling her toes and climbing across her limbs.
It was slow-motion and fast-forward, the way Arizona made her feel, a tingling crawl that trembled over her skin but sprinted through her veins. The dueling sensations made Callie giddy, almost giggly, with delight but she knew her wife would understand, and appreciate, the sound. She could sense Arizona's enjoyment when the she felt, literally felt, the blonde's smile against her center. She came in a panting, moaning, and yes, laughing rush, her legs shifting impatiently against sateen sheets until she finally squeezed her thighs around Arizona's head in a silent request for relief.
Understanding the demand, Arizona pulled back slowly. She brushed soft, worshiping kisses along Callie's core, reveling in the shivers she continued to elicit. She pulled her fingers out of Callie carefully, conscious of the over-sensitized flesh, before moving up her wife's body to lay along her side. Resting her head against Callie's shoulder, Arizona ran damp fingers in random patterns along the brunette's stomach, waiting for her breathing to level. When she heard Callie sigh, and felt her body finally settle, Arizona nodded solemnly, her cheek brushing along Callie's collarbone. "I know," she agreed with Callie's unspoken pledge, "I love you, too."
Sunlight streaked through Maura Isles' impeccably clean windows, bathing Jane in a light she didn't want at this hour. Her eyes slowly opened, blinking against the brightness with a disgruntled groan. Her head felt like someone had smashed it repeatedly with an aluminum baseball bat and her mouth was as dry as the Mojave. Christ. Why did she think drinking that much on a work night was acceptable?
The only reprieve from her hangover was the soft body curled up beside her, head tucked against her chest, arm strewn over her stomach. Jane glanced at her bedmate, whose pretty features looked so peaceful, peeking out from a mess of sandy-blonde hair and the cave-like covering of her duvet. Jane froze in place, suddenly remembering how she and Maura had crawled into bed together and uncertain when their drunken and sleepy kisses had faded into sleep. Part of her wanted to wake the doc up with more kisses and snuggles but the other part of her couldn't help wondering what in hell she was doing. Alcohol's residual effects only facilitated the feelings of anxiety, sending her heart pounding and breath racing.
As if subconsciously recognizing Jane's internal debate, Maura tightened her hold around the detective, her lips moving into a small smile against Jane's skin. Even in her sleep, her dimple popped and it made Jane laugh softly. The sound, and the rumble of Jane's chest, caused Maura to inhale deeply before blinking awake. The bright shine against eyes unaccustomed to sunlight sent her burrowing against Jane's shoulder even further with a broken plea for "more minutes."
The detective peered past Maura to the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:11, only a half an hour earlier than her usual rising time. She considered the workday ahead of them both—murder, dead ends, a host of suspects who all had alibis—and then glanced back down at Maura's reluctantly awakening gaze. Why had she picked this career path again?
Maura lifted her head off of Jane's shoulder, checking the clock as well. "Mm, I need to shower, but this is quite comfortable and I seem to have severe cephalalgia."
"Um. What?"
"A headache," Maura answered on a yawn, "most likely caused by dehydration."
"You mean a hangover," Jane smirked, still hyper-aware of where she was and who she was with. "Wanna call in sick?"
"Normally I would refuse to do that unnecessarily. Certainly not when this is my own doing," Maura protested, her lips brushing Jane's shoulder through the t-shirt each time she spoke, her arm tightening around the detective's middle.
"I won't tell," Jane offered.
Maura laughed, appeared to consider Jane's offer for all of five seconds before resolutely shaking her head. "No, I can't, Jane. I'd feel so guilty. Besides, we owe our time to Arizona and Callie. To Jason Whitestone, even. I should get up and take a shower. You can use the second bathroom if you'd like."
Jane blushed, wanting to say: Why don't we just shower together? But all that came out was a nervous: "Okay, sure. Thanks."
Recognizing the shy quality that usually didn't fit itself in the same category as Jane, Maura's brow arched. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Maura. This is just... ya know, different. Waking up here."
Maura blinked, furrowing the brows that were once arched. "You've slept here before."
"Not like this, I haven't," Jane rebuked.
"Are you regretting your decision to stay?"
Jane felt Maura's hand slink off of her stomach and quickly grabbed the retreating appendage. "No, Maur. Not at all."
"Oh, good," Maura grinned, watching Jane's face carefully. It went from bashful stoicism to calm in a matter of seconds.
Jane shifted position in the bed so that she was facing Maura and leaned in, resting her forehead against her colleague's. Maura slid her hands around Jane's waist, playing under the t-shirt (emblazoned with Maura's charity of choice—P.U.K.E) she'd lent her to sleep in, thumbs brushing against angular hips. Jane pulled the duvet down, exposing the tank-top clad doctor who made a playful sound of protest at the lack of warmth.
Reverently, Jane slipped her hand under the material of Maura's pajama top, moaning softly at the feel of all that soft skin beneath her fingertips. Her gaze swept hungrily over the woman beside her; those perfect breasts, those toned arms. The ME inhaled sharply at the contact and shifted onto her back, giving Jane more room to explore.
"I—I didn't know," Jane admitted, sweeping a reverent hand across Maura's stomach.
"Didn't know what?" Maura stuttered, her stomach caving at the sensation of Jane's palm against bare skin. She had imagined Jane's touch, certainly, but the reality of such a strong, competent hand rendered hesitant by the feel of Maura's flesh: it was, well, beautiful.
"That you would feel like this. Soft. I expected soft. But you're strong, Maura. Yoga strong, I guess. Different."
"Different?" Maura asked, her face scrunching into an expression of uncertainty.
"Mmmhmm," Jane nodded, allowing her fingers to count ribs as they moved perilously close to Maura's chest. Smiling slightly at Maura's distress, Jane shrugged. "I like it. I didn't know."
"Oh," Maura sighed, trembling when Jane let her fingers just barely brush the undersides of her breasts. "I-I'm glad, Jane. So glad."
"Me too," the detective replied, bending down to taste the skin exposed along Maura's neck when she arched her head back. "I was worried."
"Wor-worried?" Maura's hands tightened around Jane's waist, holding her in place.
"I know I like you. I really wanted to like this."
"And do you?" Jane could feel the way Maura tensed beneath her. Her Maura, so smart, so confident, so disarmingly vulnerable.
Tracing her lips along Maura's shoulder, nudging her top out of the way as much as she could, Jane mumbled against Maura's skin, "Mm. I do." She pressed soft kisses along the flesh she had revealed, surprised by how badly she wanted to tug the buttons of Maura's top open.
She knew Maura would let her when she heard the doctor moan, "Jane. Kiss me." It was blissfully reminiscent of the night before and Jane found sobriety only enhanced the thrill that raced through her at Maura's request.
Pulling back slightly, Jane didn't try to control the satisfied smirk Maura's plea incited. "Dr. Isles, you surprise me. I had you pegged as the 'no kissing before teeth brushing type.'" She punctuated her tease by dragging her nails down the sandy-blonde's torso, discovering the feel of Maura arching beneath her.
Maura blushed at Jane's question but she giggled when Jane dug a finger into her ribs, tickling her through her embarrassment. "I am, normally," she breathlessly confessed. "You've overwhelmed my sensibilities."
Jane laughed and dropped her head to rest against Maura's. "Overwhelmed your sensibilities," she mimicked. "You kill me, Maur."
"I hope not. I haven't gotten what I want from you. Yet," Maura batted her lashes and streaked her own hands up Jane's sides.
So this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Maura's flirting. "What do you want from me?" Jane asked, aware she was playing with fire, considering the way her hips rolled against Maura's when the doctor streaked her hands up and down the length of Jane's ribcage.
"A date."
Surprised, Jane stopped the movements of her hands over Maura's torso. "A date?"
Maura nodded. "Dinner. Alcoholic beverages. Conversation."
"Maura," Jane whined, "we do that all the time."
"Perhaps, but this time I want to imagine what you are wearing beneath your clothes while we talk." Holding up a finger to stop Jane's retort, Maura smiled, "Before you ask, yes, I do that all the time too. But this time," she added, pulling Jane down close to her, "this time I want you to know what I'm thinking about."
"Christ," Jane moaned, enjoying the way Maura's breath rushed over her ear. "Ah, tonight. I could-I could cook."
"You cook?"
Jane buried her head in Maura's neck before she nodded. "I can make Ma's Osso Bucco. I know you love it."
"I do," Maura smiled. "I didn't know you could make it."
"We can all cook at least one dish perfectly. Ma made sure of that. Only way she could be sure we wouldn't starve. Osso Bucco is mine."
"How serendipitous," Maura laughed. "But are you sure you wouldn't rather go out? We could—"
"No," Jane interrupted, quickly. Too quickly, she realized instantly, lifting her head to see Maura's expression darken. Rushing on, Jane shook her head fiercely. "Don't go there, doc. I don't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks. I don't want to go out because if you're gonna be imagining my underwear, I'd rather it be in private. Where you actually have a shot at getting a peek. Besides," she added, "I want to cook for you. I think I'd enjoy it. I like surprising you."
"You do," Maura murmured. "Constantly."
Shrugging off the thrill that crept up her spine, Jane smirked, "Also, I wanna make out on the couch again."
Arizona listened to Callie sing in the shower, belting out Adele lyrics that were slightly warbled and distorted by the shower's steady spray. It was adorable. Callie was always cheerful after sex. And since they'd gone well into the morning, she must have been feeling exuberant by now. Arizona chuckled as she heard Callie botch the lyrics to "Melt My Heart to Stone," wondering why her wife chose such a melancholy song to belt at the top of her lungs.
She loved that Callie sang, even if the Latina couldn't hold a tune in a bucket. When she sang to Sofia, her voice dropping against the baby's ear, the little one was always instantly soothed by her Mami's voice. That thought made Arizona miss their baby girl so much that it kind of hurt, even though she was grateful Mark's presence allowed them to see this matter through. He called every morning, giving Sofia the phone so she could babble and chatter to her Momma in the early morning, just like they did at home while Callie slept in late. Arizona appreciated the gesture but it wasn't the same. Skype or not, she wanted to hold her daughter.
Picking up the phone to call Mark, Arizona noticed an unread text message from Maura reading: 'How are you and Callie holding up?'
Arizona quickly typed back. 'We're fine. Thanks for asking. How did it go with Jane?'
Innately curious about her ex's new affairs, Arizona awaited Maura's response, hoping for a new, juicy detail about the sexy, gruff police detective. Instead of a text, however, Arizona's contemplation about the rest of Maura's evening was cut off by the ringing of her phone.
Glancing at the caller-id, Arizona chuckled to herself before answering, "Hey, Maura."
"Hello, Arizona. I'm not disturbing you am I?" Maura asked softly, making Arizona wonder if she was whispering.
"Nope, not at all. We're just kind of hanging out. Callie's taking a shower, then we're probably going to venture around Boston and grab some food. We're supposed to see my parents tonight for dinner."
Fiddling with her earring with one hand, a nervous gesture Jane and Arizona would both recognize, the ME walked to her office door, making sure it was closed. "Please tell your parents hello again from me. It was good to see your father, despite the circumstances."
"Thanks, Maur. I will. How was it last night? Did you and miss bad cop, uh, come to an understanding?" Arizona teased, watching as a towel clad Calliope strolled past her field of vision, still humming Adele.
Maura grinned to herself, taking a seat back at her desk. This comfortable banter and understanding conversation was exactly why she had called Arizona. "It was fine. We went to sleep. That's all. Well, mostly all. Jane is—this is new for her. Plus, we were rather intoxicated. May not have been the most opportune time to explore a…deeper understanding."
Arizona smirked some. "I know how that goes."
There was a brief lull of silence because Arizona was distracted, watching Callie's towel hit the floor and exposing all of that tan, beautiful form to her eyes.
"Arizona?" Maura probed, wondering if the silence meant she'd lost wireless signal in the basement of the BPD again.
"Oh, yeah, right. So, what's the next move?" Arizona replied as Callie, curiosity piqued, turned to her wife in nothing but blue boy shorts.
Lord.
"We're going on a date."
"That's awesome! A date!" Arizona chirped, mouthing the word "Maura" to Callie and pointing at the phone.
Callie did a little happy dance for the new potential couple.
"Right. It's wonderful. Except I'm very anxious. And I generally don't get act like this, but I am and I don't know exactly how to handle this type of anxiety." Maura rambled. "And therein lies my predicament."
"What's the problem, Maur? You seem to like her," Arizona said, pouting some as Callie put on a bra and then a stupid t-shirt.
"I do like her," Maura sighed.
"Then why the nerves?"
"Nerves?" Maura asked, pushing a hand through her hair and wondering if Arizona could somehow see her frustrated movements through the phone. "Perhaps this is all due to a psychosomatic response to the unfortunate recent events. Maybe it's not about Jane at all," Maura mused, clearly trying to convince herself.
"This isn't about my father, or Tim, or that jackass Whitestone. You never believed for a second that my father was involved in that man's death and you have too much faith in the process, and in Jane, to believe that the Colonel'll be a suspect for long. You don't sound anxious, as you put it. You sound nervous. I know you, Maur, remember? You sound the same way you did when you got that B in biochemistry our second year at Hopkins. You were nervous then, too."
"Well, honestly, Arizona, a poor mark in biochemistry can derail a medical student's entire—"
"It was a B, Maura, not a poor mark. Besides, we're talking about Jane." Arizona tried to hold back the laugh when Callie, now fully clothed, flopped beside her and began to whisper-sing, 'Maura and Jane sitting in a tree…' Smacking her wife's leg to shush her, Arizona continued, "Why are you nervous about Jane?"
"Because I like her," Maura exploded, surprising herself and instantly spinning in a circle to make sure her empty office was still, well, empty. "I like her," she said again, more softly. "I think too much."
"Ah," Arizona nodded, understanding. Nothing scared Maura Isles more than actual human emotions. Especially when she was the one feeling them.
"This is moving so fast except—"
"Except when it's not moving fast enough?"
"Exactly," Maura nodded against the phone, grateful to be understood. "She's my best friend, Arizona. Maybe the only one I've ever had."
"I know," Arizona agreed softly, curling up against her wife's side while she talked to her old friend.
"I've had feelings for her for so long now. I assumed they would always exist, on some level, in secret. But then you came and you and Callie, you are so happy. Outwardly delighted by each other."
"We are." Arizona couldn't help herself. Snuggled against the woman in question, she knew Maura was right, and didn't try to quell the burst of pride. She and Callie were happy. And they had fought hard to get there.
"I suppose your visit awakened certain memories, certain, ah, feelings in me. Certain wants."
When Callie whispered, "Why don't you just tell her Jane thinks she's hot, too?" Arizona giggled and clamped a hand over her wife's mouth.
"I'd say it also introduced a certain awareness in Jane. She had no idea you were open to relationships with women, Maur. Now, only a few days after finding out, you two are going on a date. Sounds like she has wants, too."
Maura fiddled with her pen, tapping the end to the Vivaldi playing softly on the radio behind her. "You're right. You think I need to let it happen."
Arizona beamed, feeling like her own Dr. Phil. "Yep, you just need to let it happen. You can't analyze or dissect or plan this. When it works, if it works, it'll be more than you ever expected anyway."
Callie nodded emphatically beside her wife, whispering: "Sing it."
Veal was gross. Jane knew this—she could tell by the way the raw meat felt against her fingers while her mind raced with nerves. Why she'd agreed to prepare it for Maura was beyond her. Veal wasn't sexy. She should have chosen linguine with red sauce or eggplant. Eggplant was so…purple. Purple was probably sexy. Veal needed to be beaten with a kitchen tool that looked like a medieval torture implement. Jane bludgeoned the veal like she was mad at it, warranting a lot of cursing and a change of clothes.
But sexy or not, the Osso Bucco was simmering on the stove and Maura was expected to arrive any minute. Resisting the urge to fetch the Patron and pound a few shots, Jane peeked under the lid of the dutch oven she stole from her mother. Smelled like Ma's. Here's hoping it tasted that way, too.
After wiping her hands on the dishtowel strewn over her shoulder, Jane eyed the table she'd set. She had chosen to go with the soft blue Fiesta dinnerware—a housewarming gift from her parents; silverware all in its proper place (she'd Google'd) on actual cloth napkins that she'd even dusted off the silver napkin rings for. It looked real, legitimate, especially flanked by the wine glasses Maura bought her in Switzerland last winter. A self-satisfied smile crept across Jane's face.
She could be domestic.
At precisely 7:00 the doorbell rang and Jane took a deep breath. She'd been expecting Maura to show up punctually, but still. Somehow the unfamiliar ringing of her bell made it a little more real. They were doing this. Jo looked up from her perch on the sofa expectantly, tail wagging at the prospect of house guests, though Jane suspected Maura—with her designer dog treats and belly rubs—was a fan favorite of her canine companion.
Who could blame her?
Jane unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal Maura. Jane was sure the doctor's blinding smile matched her own and the pair spent a moment taking the other in. Maura liked Jane casual best. Today's ensemble of tight dark jeans, bare feet and a simple black long-sleeved v-neck was perfect. Certainly not something the doc would wear herself, but she liked that about Jane. She wore what was comfortable and pulled it off with such unintentional style. Maura, on the other hand, all loose, perfect waves, navy blue dress and strappy shoes to match, was the picture of glamour. Jane's heart was in her throat, choking her usually raspy voice to a mere mumble of "C'mon in."
Smooth.
"It smells amazing, Jane," Maura said as she crossed over the threshold, surprise evident in her tone.
"Told ya I could cook one thing. Osso Bucco is that thing." Jane glanced at the newly rejuvenated Jo, whose nails skittered across the hardwood as she ran to Maura.
Maura, even in her dress, daintily crouched down to scratch behind the pup's ears, somehow remaining ladylike and poised even in such a compromising position. Jane swooned a little. Again.
"Uh, wine?" Jane asked. "I got all kinds of that weirdly named white that you like."
"Viognier?" Maura said as she stood back up. Approaching the bottle Jane gestured to on the counter, Maura regarded the label critically. "The appellation of Condrieu at the northern end of the Northern Rhone is devoted solely to the Viognier variety of grape. Serious drinkers of the wine insist the grapes were brought to Rhone by the Romans more than two thousand—"
"Maura," Jane interrupted, tapping her spoon on the side of the pot to punctuate her moan.
Cocking her head to the side with a small smile, Maura asked, "Yes, Jane?"
"Oh don't 'yes, Jane,' me," Jane demanded. She pointed her spoon at Maura and continued, "You know I don't care if the wine came from a grape they grew in a community garden in Southie. It's never going to taste better than beer anyway. But this is a date," she added, playfully frustrated. "Does that mean I'm suddenly supposed to pretend like I care?"
Now Maura's smile was full bloom. Somehow Jane's obvious nerves calmed her own. Stepping up to the detective, Maura set the spoon on the counter and slid her hands around Jane's waist. Kissing Jane's chin, Maura answered her, "You don't have to pretend to care but, I confess, I'll probably still tell you about the origins of Osso Bucco over dinner. I can't help it."
"I know," Jane sighed. "It's adorable, really. As long as I don't have to really pay attention."
Maura giggled against Jane's neck and sniffed there, enjoying the scent of spices that mingled with the simple Dove soap she knew Jane used. "This is a date," she agreed with Jane's earlier assessment. "But you don't have to act differently. We've had dinner before," she reminded Jane. "This will be exactly the same. Except," she stepped closer and pulled Jane tighter against her, "now I get to do this." She laid her lips lightly against Jane's. It was barely a kiss, but it got her point across.
Smiling shyly, Jane announced, "I think I'm going to like dating."
"Oh," Maura nodded, turning back to pour a glass of wine, "you will enjoy dating me." Reaching into the fridge she pulled out one of Jane's beers and smiled. "Here," she handed the MGD over. "Nothing has to change."
Jane accepted the bottle gratefully and tipped it back before pointing it to Maura's glass. "More wine for you, this way."
"True," Maura agreed. Unaware Jane was still watching her, Maura took a deliberate sip of the perfectly chilled wine. She closed her eyes, moaning quietly in appreciation of the taste and didn't see Jane's shudder.
"Christ, you're good at this."
"Good at what?" Maura asked after swallowing her mouthful of wine.
"This," Jane gestured to Maura. "The wine and the dress. The sexy."
Canting her head to the side, Maura's brows knitted. "How can someone be good at 'the sexy,' as you put it?"
Jane laughed in response to the demure smile perched on the doc's lips, wetting her own as she stirred the Osso Bucco again, deliberately turning so Maura couldn't see her blushing. "You know what I mean."
With a wicked smirk, Maura looked away. She didn't want to make the already flustered detective even more nervous so she instead turned to survey the dinner table. Amused that Jane even owned matching dishes, she realized the glasses on the table were the ones from Ticino. That small detail made her heart flutter in her chest and it was in that moment—watching Jane cook and mumble something about the Patriots—she realized, abruptly, that this was what she craved.
Normalcy. Friendship. Family.
Jane gave her all of that. And then some.
"Okay, are you ready to eat? I think this is done," Jane said as she whipped around, noticing Maura standing by the table, staring. "Maura?"
Maura sighed, happily, no longer staring at the place settings, but simply in an unfocused manner. "Yes, sorry? What?"
It wasn't often Jane caught Maura off guard, but she rarely questioned what went on inside the doc's head. Brilliant, definitely, but the myriad of thoughts that ran through that mind was a little too jarring—even for savvy homicide detectives.
"Are you ready to eat?" Jane repeated as Maura blinked rapidly, glancing upward and away from her spot by the table. The detective wanted to ask if she was about to cry, but she wasn't sure that Maura's certain honesty would solve her confusion anyway.
Shaking her head to clear it, Maura nodded. "Yes. Let's eat. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yeah, can you carry that bread over there?" Jane inclined her head towards a basket on the counter and moved to serve two generous plates of food. When she dropped the plates on the table, Maura's eyes widened.
"Oh my."
Jane shrugged and Maura realized instantly the gesture was pure Rizzoli. "It's a lot, I know. But I figure this way we won't have to get up. And you won't have to do that girly date thing where you want more but you refuse to ask for it."
"I never do that."
Jane snorted. "Sure you don't. You, Maura Isles, are all girl."
It may not have been intended as a compliment but Maura beamed anyway. "Thank you, Jane," she said over the detective's laughter. "How did your meeting go with Matthew Nevins?" She asked the question, even as she lifted her fork to taste her first bite of the meal Jane prepared.
"You wanna talk murder?" Jane queried, frowning at the ME. "On our first date? Wouldn't that be…weird? Or creepy? Or something?"
"Not at all," Maura assured her. "In fact, I assume to not talk about murder would be weird. For us. After all, it's how we spend the majority of our day. And I have a vested interest in this case."
Jane continued to frown but she shoveled a bite of food in her mouth as she thought about Maura's comment. "Fine. I'll tell you about Nevins but that's it. After that, it's all first date crap. Like where'd you go to high school, or some shit."
"Why, Jane," Maura batted her eyelashes, "I had no idea you were a romantic."
"That's me. Crazy for romance."
"Matthew?" Maura asked, still smiling.
"Right. Feds stopped him before he boarded the plane. He lawyered up right away. My guy with the Feebs said he had the lawyer on speed dial. Prepared fuck, if you ask me."
"Prudent."
"Fishy."
"I have never understood that term. Fish are neither—"
"It means it smells, Maur."
"Oh. Smells like fish?"
"Jesus." Jane couldn't stop her smile. "I'm saying when a guy insists he has an airtight alibi then tries to leave the country in the middle of a murder investigation then has his attorney waiting for his call—something's not right."
"Do you think he killed Jason?"
"I don't know. The third member of the ménage-a-sex is corroborating the sex story. For now. Either they were screwing each other senseless in the hotel when Whitestone was killed or all three of them took a knife to his back. I'm not sure yet. But I know old Matty's into something. And now he's running scared. Just the way I like him. Now. That's all you get. Date talk. Shouldn't you be fawning over my hot meal by now?"
Maura quirked an eyebrow and ran her palm over the napkin in her lap, fingertips registering the stiffness of the barely-used fabric as she took a deliberate bite. "Oh, yes. Your mother uses a touch more garlic, but this is subtle and delicious. I like it."
Jane beamed. Subtle and delicious was better than burnt and awful. After tentatively chewing she realized it tasted pretty damn good. "It's not bad, actually."
Maura smiled again after washing down another taste with the chilled wine. "You had doubts?"
"Maur, I burn grilled cheese. Toast. Pop-Tarts. And that's when I'm not distracted. Of course I had doubts."
"This is delicious. And very sweet of you. I'll have to cook next time," Maura enticed with a grin, placing her wine glass back down softly.
"Well it's a good sign you're already talking about doing this again," Jane teased, glancing up to meet Maura's gaze.
When the pair locked eyes, Jane felt her pulse quicken. Her body tensed for a moment as she caught herself staring at that mouth. She wondered if she'd taste a little savory, like the veal, but then with hints of sweetness like the wine. Maura quickly looked away, but even in the low light Jane could see the flush rising up her cheeks.
"Why wouldn't I?" Maura asked, stumbling over the flare of arousal coursing through her. "Cook, I mean. For you."
Jane lifted her chin, smiling and shrugging at the doctor. She was afraid of what would come out of her mouth, if she'd accidentally tell Maura how that dress made her want to touch her, kiss her. Soft and sweet and slow.
Maura took another bite of the Osso Bucco. It was delicious; she wouldn't lie to Jane. And she was hungry, having opted for a light lunch in anticipation of such a heavy meal. But as thoughtful and tasty as the meal was, she was only registering the woman across the table from her.
"Will you make that fancy French thing with the little pieces of chicken in it?" Jane asked hopefully, swigging her beer.
"Poulet aux Senteurs de Provence! Of course. I know how much you like It."
Jane quivered at the French rolling seamlessly off of Maura's tongue, back once again overwhelmed by thoughts of her hands moving all over that slippery, pale skin; listening to Maura's breath hitch as she felt gentle curves slide against hers.
Maura recognized that look (it matched her own), and decided to capitalize on the opportunity for easy seduction. "What are you thinking about right now?"
"Now?" Jane was fully aware her normally husky voice had cracked on a squeak.
"Yes. Now."
"I'm, ah, thinking that your French is pretty great."
"You were thinking of my French?" Maura inclined her head and smiled that smile that told Jane the doctor was prepared to call her on her bullshit.
"Uh, sure. It's…um. It's nice."
"Nice?"
"Uh huh. Interesting."
"French is interesting?"
"Jesus, Maura, do I have to spell it out for you?"
Trapping her tongue between her teeth for a moment, Maura nodded. "I believe you should, yes. Although, I've always been an excellent speller. Did you know that if you don't learn to spell certain words and recognize patterns before age ten, you'll never really spell properly?"
Something about Maura's tone and her coy expression got through Jane's fogged brain. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"I am. Absolutely."
Jane laughed but she knew, two could play this game. Leaning close to the smirking ME, Jane deliberately lowered her voice and said, "I'm thinking about how much I would like to hear you speak more French. To me. In bed," Jane cast her eyes down at her plate, barely mumbling out the last part of her desire: "Preferably naked." Before Jane could wonder if she'd gone too far, she watched Maura's eyes widen and then darken with unmistakable lust.
"Oh."
Jane leaned back a small, but deliberate inch, and smiled. She was delighted her forthright reply had flummoxed the normally unshakable doctor. "Yes, oh."
"When…Um…When?"
"Dr. Isles, are you incapable of complete sentences? I think that's a first."
"Jane," Maura demanded but the she could tell the detective's name sounded more like a plea. "When?"
"Not tonight." Jane watched disappointment cloud Maura's expression as her lips turned down in a frown. "But soon, Maur. I hope, soon."
Glancing at Jane through her lashes, Maura sighed. "I hope soon, too."
Under the glow of the low-hanging moon, burning in the night sky like an ember, Callie stuffed her hands into her leather jacket. A small gust of wind picked up, shuffling some leaves across the finished wood of the porch. She stood on the front porch of the expansive Robbins abode, the chill of fall nipping at the v-neck of her t-shirt. She wished again for something nicer to wear to her in-laws' home, but unfortunately she hadn't packed for the special murder-extended stay.
Beside her, Arizona took a deep breath, dimples popping as she took in the brisk aroma of a New England fall. Despite the twists and turns of this week, the weather was beautiful. Elms shedding leaves in colorful displays, the slightest dip in humidity, chilly nights, gorgeous dew-drenched mornings. It was comfortable, even familiar. This tiny moment of reverence in front of her childhood home helped calm her rattled nerves.
Callie knocked again—gently—thinking that if the elder Robbins were anything like their daughter, she could be interrupting something.
As soon as that thought slipped into her head she grimaced, wishing it would evaporate. Immediately.
Barbara Robbins finally opened the door, saving Callie from her mental landmine, and smiled at the sight of her daughter and daughter-in-law. When she saw her daughter's arms were full, she promptly wrapped Callie up into a hug. Then, pulling back, taking the cake and depositing it in Callie's outstretched (and somewhat bewildered arms) she did the same to her daughter.
"Come in, come in. Daniel's grilling the steaks on the deck. He'll be so happy he can cheat on his low cholesterol diet with this German chocolate cake!" Barbara squealed, taking the cake and heading off toward the kitchen. "Hang up your jackets and join us. I have wine, Calliope! Good, red wine," she called from the other room.
"Thanks Mrs. Robbins," Callie smiled as Arizona eyed her knowingly. "What? Your mom and I have impeccable taste in wine."
"Right, right. Impeccable. Forgive my dad and I for enjoying beer and Jameson," Arizona smirked. She hung her coat on the rack, taking Callie's to hang over top of hers. Secretly she loved that she'd smell like her later.
Super sexy girlfriend and leather was now super sexy wife. And leather. What a nice ring.
"Goof," Callie grinned and linked arms with her wife, walking the familiar path through the dining room, kitchen and then out onto the deck.
"There are my girls," Daniel beamed as he flipped a particularly juicy looking filet mignon. "Looking well despite everything."
"Ooh, Daniel," Barbara scolded. "No talking about that at dinner. We have so many other things to talk about. Like when you're bringing our gorgeous granddaughter over for a visit? Or having more gorgeous grandbabies."
"Oh, mom," Arizona sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Callie grinned. "That's what I said! Sofia needs brothers and sisters, right grandpa?"
"This is coercion," Arizona groaned as she untangled her hand from Callie's and stalked over to the cooler, pulling out a Dog Fish Head Pumpkin.
"Coercion?" Barbra gasped theatrically and put a hand over her heart. "Are you implying that you require subterfuge to give that beautiful baby a playmate?"
Callie gratefully accepted the glass of wine Barbra passed her and smirked at her wife, "Yes, Arizona, is that what you are saying?"
Arizona ignored the question and passed a beer to her father. She saw her father staring at her placidly, obviously waiting for an answer. Lifting one eyebrow the blonde asked, "Et tu, Brutus?"
"I want more grandbabies," Daniel shrugged, his own set of dimples winking at his daughter.
Arizona threw up her hands and barely saved her beer when it slipped. "I never said we were done! I only asked that we wait until Sofia is, I don't know, out of diapers!"
"Ok, ok," Callie put a hand on her wife's shoulder. "We'll leave you alone." Over Arizona's head, Callie mouthed to Barbara 'Soon,' laughing when her mother-in-law giggled in delight. "Barbara, can I help with dinner?"
"Actually," Barbara beamed, "I was hoping you would make those marinated mushrooms. The ones in the red wine that go so nice with the steaks?"
"Absolutely," Callie agreed. Batting her lashes at Arizona, Callie asked, "Want to help, honey?"
Well aware she was banned from the kitchen by both her mother and her wife, Arizona rolled her eyes. "You're a bit—ah, a mean girl, Calliope. I don't know why I married you."
"I'll remind you later," Callie winked and enjoyed Barbara's laugh as they walked away.
"So," Daniel began after he and Arizona settled on the back porch, both comfortably sipping their beers while the steaks sizzled on the grill behind them, "let's get this out of the way before your mother comes back. You know how she hates drama at the dinner table."
"I do. What's up?"
"I got a letter from an attorney Samuels." Daniel reached over and passed Arizona an envelope. "Apparently I've been invited to the reading of Jason's last will and testament. I don't plan to attend but I thought Detective Rizzoli should be informed."
"Probably," Arizona agreed. "You don't want to go?"
"The only reason to invite me is if he has left me a bequest. I don't intend to be bought, even after death."
Dropping a hand on her dad's knee, Arizona nodded. "I get it, Dad. I wish you had told me. About Timothy. I wish—"
"You didn't need that burden, Arizona. Sofia had just been born, Calliope was hurt. Jason Whitestone was the last thing you needed to deal with."
"I get it, Dad," she repeated. "I do. I'm just sorry you were on your own with all of that. It must have felt like losing Tim all over again."
"It did," Daniel nodded, swigging his beer to cover the crack in his voice before clearing his throat and changing the subject. "You'll pass this along to the detective?"
"Ah. Yeah, sure, I can do that."
The Colonel patted Arizona's hand on his leg and sat back. "Now. Tell me about Sofia. Have you bought her a pony yet? My granddaughter deserves a pony, Arizona."
"A pony, dad?" Arizona groaned. "If you buy my daughter a pony, I will park it in your front lawn. All sixteen square inches of grass you have out front. You should see what Sof has as is. I think we should buy stock in Playskool and Baby Einstein. She does not need a pony. A Ferrari for your favorite daughter, on the other hand..."
Daniel laughed, enjoying the ribbing from his girl. "Calliope asked for a Mustang. Or a Lamborghini.
Arizona smirked, tipping the beer back into her mouth and adjusting the sleeves on the hoodie she was wearing. "Of course she did."
"Danny, how are the steaks? We're all set up in here," Barbara called from the behind the sliding glass door.
"Almost finished, Barb!" Daniel replied, glancing toward Arizona as he began placing the steaks onto a platter. "You will inform Detective Rizzoli of this soon? I'd like her to have any advantage possible. I like her. She seems very driven."
"Maura likes her too," Arizona teased, a little flushed from the beer. "A lot."
"Maura and the detective?" He considered the idea, a soft smile spreading across his face after a moment's hesitation. "I think I like that. They seemed surprisingly in tune with one another. Ah, I hope you'll let me know if there's a wedding."
"You do love weddings."
"It's the finger foods. And the dancing. Where do you think your brother learned all of his best moves?" Daniel winked, enjoying the laugh that doubled his daughter over.
Turning off the grill and gesturing for Arizona to go first, the pair made their way into the kitchen. Callie and Barbara were giggling—Callie pouring her mother-in-law another glass of wine while shimmying her hips a little. Arizona's heart leapt to her throat at the sight of candid Calliope. The familiarity of the feeling did nothing to diminish its value. Glancing over at her father, who wore the same love-struck expression she felt herself, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "How'd we get so lucky, huh?"
He laughed, realizing he'd been caught in a moment of vulnerability. "Come on you giggling two, it's time for dinner."
"Oh, Danny. Callie's going to teach me how to dance. Really dance. Then you and I can finally go to Salsa nights at the American Legion."
Arizona snorted some, coughing up the beer that had threatened to choke her. "Callie's uh..."
In one fell swoop Callie was beside her wife, arm around her waist, stealing her beer for a sip, and twirling her in a dramatic dance, all at the same time. "Callie's what? Amazing? Graceful? The best thing that's ever happened to you?" She teased, pressing a kiss to her wife's cheek.
"A great dancer," Arizona settled on. "But a little of all of the rest of those, too."
Barbara smiled at the scene, still tickled that her daughter was so obviously in love. "Let's all sit please, the food is going to get cold."
Leaning over to whisper to his wife, Daniel added, "I would love to dance with you, Barbara. Any day of the week."
Arizona and Callie giggled, poking and pinching each other like a couple of teens, warranting a soft, yet stern: "Girls, it's time for grace" from Daniel.
"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.
Jane gasped when Maura pushed her backwards on the couch, stumbling slightly as the ME straddled her thighs and ran a warm, wet tongue over her trembling lips.
"Maura."
"Jane"
"No, ah, Maura," Jane leaned back into the couch and held her hands up in the air. "I, ah, I don't know what to do."
Maura smiled softly and moved back into Jane, pressing a kiss at the corner of the detective's mouth and thrilling to the feel of Jane's shuddering breath washing over her. "You're doing just fine," she murmured.
"No. My hands," Jane waved them in the air on either side of Maura's head, her gesticulations so wild, Maura felt a breeze sift through her hair. "I don't know what to do with my hands."
Maura couldn't help herself; she giggled. Out loud. Once the laughter started, she was unable to pull it back. She gave in to her humor and buried her face in Jane's neck, giggles migrating to full blown chuckles.
"Nice, Maur. Real nice." Jane dropped her hands to the couch and waited for the Maura's laughter to subside. "I told you I'd suck at this!"
"Jane," Maura snickered against Jane's neck before nipping lightly at the brunette's collarbone and surprising her into a yelp. "You do not suck. "Although," she traced her lips up Jane's neck and whispered in her ear, "I sincerely hope you will. Eventually."
"Christ."
"Maura," the doctor corrected, leaning back to smile at her date. "I'm only Maura."
"Smartass."
"I am quite smart and my ass—"
"Hands, Maura," Jane reminded her, once again waving them in the air. "Where do they go?"
"Oh, Jane," Maura laughed again. "Would you ask a man where you should put your hands?"
"Well…" Jane trailed off and considered the question. "Shit. I guess not."
"You would not," Maura agreed. "If I were a man, where would you put your hands?"
"Ah. Wherever I wanted, I guess."
Maura shivered involuntarily, even as she nodded. "Yes. That. Do that. Where, ah, where do you want to put them?"
"Honestly?"
"Of course," Maura nodded.
"Everywhere."
More shivers.
Maura leaned forward and breathed against Jane's lips. "Yes."
"It scares the shit out of me, Maura."
Pulling back again, Maura smiled softly. "I know it does. I'm surprisingly frightened myself. But I still want your hands on me, Jane."
"Um. Can we, uh, over the clothes? Jesus, I feel like a teenager trying to get to second base."
Cocking her head to the side, Maura frowned. "Second base? I…I don't understand. Was your first sexual experience with a baseball player?"
Jane burst out laughing and dropped her forehead against Maura's. "You are…perfect," Jane decided, lifting her hands and wrapping them around Maura's behind, squeezing lightly through the material of her dress. "And my hands are exactly where I want them."
Maura grinned, a sumptuous thing that started off small but stretched across her face. It was sincere, a hint of mischief tweaking at the corner as she lowered herself back down onto Jane's body. Those hands felt so good against her backside that she let off a moan of appreciation just shy of Jane's lips.
"Oh, God," Jane groaned at the sound. "I love hearing that."
Maura only grinned again before pressing her lips gently against Jane's. It was hard to rein in the desire she had for this woman. It ached, physically ached, having to slow it down. Having to keep her hands over polyblend cotton instead of underneath, swirling over sexy, soft skin. Touching everything. Listening to Jane gasp for her, to let her name spill from her lips like a prayer.
Jane's hands slid from Maura's ass to her lower back, wrapping around her hips and ghosting along lithe curves. She tentatively palmed her breasts, fingertips trailing along the outer swells of them. At the touch, Maura's back arched inward, pressing herself more flush against Jane's torso.
"Jane," Maura breathed softly, groaning when long fingers spread to cup her breasts fully.
"What? You okay?" Jane asked, bewildered as she pulled away.
Maura was blushing, her eyes lidded, mouth parted slightly. Jane's fingertips itched to touch her again, but she could sense Maura's hesitation and held back. "I'm okay, Jane. It's hard to...slow this all down. Just kiss me, please."
Smirking slightly, Jane poured her full effort into the kiss. She traced the shape of Maura's bottom lip with her tongue, tasting the hint of wine that stained her lips. When her mouth trembled open on a sigh, Jane dipped inside, tangling her tongue with Maura's softly. The doctor whimpered and her hands twisted in Jane's shirt, lifting it slightly but never touching the skin she revealed. Jane pulled back and glanced down at Maura's hands.
"Maybe we should…"
"Stop?" Maura asked, loosening her fists over Jane's torso.
"Um. Yeah, maybe. If we're going to go slow."
"I dislike slow," Maura pouted. "I prefer a faster pace."
"Did you really just say that?"
"What?"
"It takes you three days to identify reddish brown stains as blood. When you find them under a dead body, Maura! You love slow."
"Not tonight. Tonight I detest slow."
"Me too," Jane admitted, smiling ruefully. "Maybe we could, ah, spend the evening together again tomorrow? Speed things up a little then?"
Maura smiled and cuddled up against Jane in a hug that was as sweet as their interlude had been sexy. "Yes, please," she sighed against Jane's neck. "I'd love that."