Author: eponinesghost (EppieG)
Title: I Want To Kiss You All Over 7/?
Pairing: Rizzoli/Isles
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Rizzoli & Isles. No infringement intended.
Notes/Summary: ... References Seasons One & Two.
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As she let herself into her dark apartment, Jane regretted allowing Frankie to take Jo Friday for the weekend. She needed some unconditional love in the form of puppy kisses. Instead she was alone.
Wearily she flipped the lock and hit the lights, tossing her keys into the dish near the door. She'd come home from some pretty rough days on the job, literally beaten. Right now she couldn't think of a time that she felt so low. She could use a beer. Hell, she could use a keg.
Unbuttoning her shirt, she made her way toward her small kitchen. She stopped to toss what had amounted to the finishing touch of her costume across the back of chair at the counter. She doubted she'd ever want to wear it again.
Her eyes fell to the garish stain on the front of her tank. Speaking of things she'd never wear again … It was ruined. A lot of things were ruined. Sighing, she quickly stripped off the top and sent it sailing into the trash.
Damn it was cold. She swiftly moved to the hamper and fished out her long-sleeved softball shirt. It hadn't been washed, but what the hell. She was the only one here and it did the job.
She winced as her hand closed around the handle on the refrigerator door. Shit. She'd forgotten about the abuse it had taken against the steering wheel. At least it wasn't her gun hand. Using the other one to open the fridge and retrieve a beer, she tried to shake off the dull, throbbing pain.
It was probably going to get worse if she didn't ice it. Popping open the beer and taking a long swig, she wondered how she could be such a mess at this point in her life. She wasn't sure she wanted an answer.
There were some pains that she wouldn't be able to simply shake off.
As she looked into the freezer, a wave of grief hit her along with the blast of frosty air. Her bruised hand carefully lifted out the circular gel pack that resembled a stuffed animal. Maura had bought it for her as an affectionate jab at her many injuries and scrapes.
The original tag had called it a "Boo Boo Pal" and it was clearly intended for toddlers and small children. Something to help them through the sting of having their "ouchies" tended to. Maura had chided that it suited her because she sometimes pouted and acted like a child when she was supposed to be sitting still and letting someone else fix her up.
One side was a smooth pad that was designed to rest against the skin. The other had a smiling monkey face that reminded them both of Curious George. That was another pointed tweak Maura had emphasized … Jane and George had a lot in common when it came to following rules or wandering off into trouble.
Almost immediately Jane dubbed it "Freezer Monkey" and referred to it as such when she used it or asked for it. Pressing it into her palm, she flashed back to all the times Maura's concerned countenance had hovered over her while she checked and evaluated various traumas and scars.
She remembered the soft chill of Freezer Monkey pressed against her temple while Maura's delicate fingers felt for further wounds in her scalp. And the time she'd balanced him on her split knuckles while Maura scowled through a lecture about "intelligent use of force."
Making her way to the sofa, she was slowly absorbing the full scope of her losses tonight. The easy intimacy they'd perfected, the freedom they'd felt to press each other's sore spots without fear of harsh repercussions, the assumption and assurance that the other one would always be there … no matter what.
Jesus what had they done?
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As soon as she kicked off her boots and settled back against the couch - beer in one hand, Freezer Monkey soothing the other - Jane's mind refused any instructions she tried to give it. Almost against her will, she was replaying the events of the evening …
In retrospect, it was probably the moment the wine had spilled that removed any remaining trace of "character portrayal" on her part. The person trying to reassure Maura that no harm had been done was 100% Jane.
And when Maura had burst out with that goofy reference to upper lip erogenous zones, it felt like they were both exactly who they were supposed to be. Only perilously close to making out.
Even now her skin tingled as she recalled the rapturous look on Maura's face as Jane's fingers found the soft crevice behind her knee … the irregular breathing she induced by toying with Maura's wrist … the beautiful struggle she witnessed as she caressed the tantalizing curves just barely exposed by the neckline of Maura's blouse.
Again she relived the sharp jolt that coursed through her at Maura's not-so-subtle encouragement to remove the damn thing altogether … the threat that suggestion had been to her plan to go slow, gradually increase the build up … make Maura crazy for her next move …
The small niggling doubt she had tried to squelch played into it as well. If her progression was methodical and obvious, then each step of the way gave Maura a chance to call it off. To back down before they crossed too much of a line with this "game." To put a stop to the whole thing.
She heard her voice in her head scoff. You wouldn't have stopped … you were already too far gone. You would have tried to convince her … to tempt her … you probably would have even begged. But you wouldn't have stopped.
Just like you can't stop thinking about it right now.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
She'd fought with herself earlier as she'd leaned against Maura's shoulder. Her body was screaming at her to unleash everything she felt, desired and dreamed of … to stop denying what was right in front of her, beneath her.
But she held back … as hard as it was … willing herself to be sure. To finish what she'd started.
Hearing her name in Maura's moans had nearly destroyed her, left her quaking. She knew she was losing control even as she tried to lock it down. Asking those last few questions had nearly killed her. And then … God …
Looking into Maura's eyes … saying everything with her own … having it all reflected back … Jesus that was her undoing.
Jane bit her lip, her heart in her throat … blocking the sobs that otherwise would have escaped. She could feel the warm tracks of tears painting her cheeks but made no move to divert them.
Her internal argument raged on.
Stop torturing yourself. Don't go any further. You don't need to "see" or feel anymore.
I have to. It's all I've got. It's all I'll ever have.
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Although she'd die rather than admit it to anyone else, Jane was a true romantic. Her tough exterior shielded her from many things, and her volatile temperament covered most of her vulnerabilities. Sarcasm was a decent defense mechanism as well.
Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she honestly believed that there was someone for everyone. She believed in soul mates. She made fun of herself for that notion, but still, she harbored hope.
Without really being aware of it, she'd been searching for "the one." Expecting that when she met the right person, she'd just know … feel it somehow. As corny as it sounded, and she knew how it sounded, she had been waiting all her life for that moment.
At times her wishful thinking had put Maura in that role. Tried it on for size. Always reprimanding herself for being so silly and insane for going there. It was impossible on so many levels.
And yet … tonight … when she'd found herself falling into the depths of Maura's desperate gaze, everything had been so clear. This was it. This is what it felt like. What she'd been missing.
She knew that the phrase "sealed with a kiss" referred to love letters and the like, but when she finally, finally found Maura's lips with her own, lost herself in the taste and feel and heat of heaven, it was totally redefined.
It sealed them inside another world, their own space. Nothing else mattered or even existed. Just this closeness, this freedom … this miracle.
Everything was urgent and timeless. Completely contradictory. She needed to pause to take it all in and rush forward all at once. She needed more. She had it all.
Jesus Christ … Maura's hands on her shook her from any moorings that remained. The vise grip of her leg yanking Jane even harder into the incredible body writhing under her, trying to push through her. Explosions rocked her everywhere. She was on fire.
And just like that … it had all gone to hell.
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In her line of work, she often had to rely on her judgment to stay alive. How could she have gotten this so wrong?
She had been concerned enough to try to keep her emotional distance. To go along with the exercise and see what unfolded. Maura seemed to be the one who had been totally thrown for a loop. Whose fingers shook and whose voice wavered.
Maura couldn't be that good of an actress. She had been affected. That hadn't been just projecting on Jane's part.
On the other hand, Maura had never been shy about discussing sex. Nothing seemed to embarrass her about her appetite or execution in that regard. She was frequently urging Jane to engage in it casually. To boost her immune system or whatever other reason she could offer and explain.
Jane's function there had been spelled out clearly. If she returned to Maura's for dinner and drama, they would be having sex at some point. Maybe Maura had just been really excited that she had a sure thing lined up for the night. Maybe she had just been horny.
And Jane had been handy.
She grimaced at the thought. That's what a girl wanted to hear. "Since there's nobody else around … you'll do."
God she was a fool.
Maura wasn't though. She didn't believe in starry-eyed sentimental bullshit. She believed in endorphins and the beauty of the human body and the numerous benefits of the female orgasm. Not that there was anything wrong with that, no shame in admitting it.
But the responses Jane had gotten from her had seemed so … personal. Raw and real. And when she'd heard Maura breathe her name …
Had she though? She cursed herself a thousand times over for the whole "choose a name that sounds enough like yours so that you minimize errors" undercover spiel. Through the fog of her all-encompassing ardor, could she have known the difference? Had she just assumed what she wanted so desperately to hear?
Jesus Christ she had fucked this up.
In the harsh realm of hindsight, she couldn't be sure of anything. Except that she had been crazy to go along with any of it.
And that "Giovanni" didn't sound anything like "Jane."
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Her beer was almost empty and her left hand was cold. Her eyes, however, seemed to have a never-ending supply of hot tears. They were already starting to feel swollen and gritty and she didn't see any point in keeping them open.
She flexed her fingers around the edges of Freezer Monkey's face and wished she had her anger back. It felt so much more … powerful. Right now she just felt pitiful. And pummeled. She wanted another beer … and another … and another. But that would require movement.
She just wanted to sit here and ache. Actually she wanted to disappear, but the odds of that happening were slim to none. Aching and sitting she could do.
Before she could ponder other dismal accomplishments, she picked up the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Dammit, Frankie! She was just getting into wallowing and she didn't' want company. She hardly ever let her brothers see her cry and she didn't want this to be a special occasion.
Leaning forward to deposit her bottle on the coffee table, she roughly scrubbed her face with her right hand and her sleeve. She was still in the process of standing when the door swung open.
She froze. Unable to speak or even blink. She just remained rooted to the spot as Maura walked in.
Fuck.
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end part 7
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