A/N: So, wow. This is kind of funny- the reviews are really divided. It seems like half of you really want Jane and Angela to hook up, and the other half of you will come after me with torches and pitchforks if they do. Let me make one thing clear: I live for Rizzles. I have an entire youtube channel dedicated to them and their adorableness. But look at the title of the story: not only is it a lyric from my favorite Elvis song (swoon!), but it explains how I want this story to unfold. I've written too many fics where it's love-at-first-sight, or love is proclaimed right away and everyone's okay with it. I wanted to try something new, for myself. Angela's interest in Jane and Jane's attraction to her provide a tension or an obstacle that I want to further explore. I totally believe that you can be in love with or pining after one person, but if you think they don't return those feelings, you will be open to hooking up with someone who is openly attracted to you and who you don't find repulsive. And wow. Sorry for that long explanation, but I wanted to get it out there!

Booth and Jane were quickly directed to a Mr. Stevens, the man in charge of overseeing the roadies, who fortunately recognized Angela from prior concerts and welcomed her to hang out until her father arrived.

"He called about five minutes ago, so he should be here pretty quick," he said before turning to Jane. "Now who was it you said you were looking for?"

"Brock Anderson."

"Right—hey, Ramsey!" Mr. Stevens called out to a nearby worker. "You seen Anderson around?"

"Yeah, he's with Russell, setting up amps."

Stevens looked to where his employee was pointing. "Oh! Yup, there he is, detective." In a slightly louder voice, he hollered out, "Brock!"

The two boys looked up as Booth and Jane started walking towards them, and the taller of the two suddenly took off like a shot. On instinct, Jane darted after him, while Booth snagged the one who'd stayed behind. Angela, meanwhile, nearly felt ready to ask Mr. Stevens to catch her, because the sight of Jane Rizzoli chasing down a suspect made her weak in the knees.

"You Brock Anderson?" Booth asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh. Jane!"

"Russell's double-parked, sir. I think that's why he freaked out."

Booth snorted a laugh. "Ah. Well. Mr. Anderson, I'm Agent Booth and the woman who's about two minutes away from feeling totally stupid for running down a double-parker is Detective Rizzoli. I'm guessing you might have a better notion than your co-worker of why we're here?" He folded his arms expectantly as Brock nodded slowly. About a minute later, Jane came walking back looking thoroughly annoyed. She explained shortly to Booth that after Russell kept shouting apologies over his shoulder and that he was going to fix his car right then, she had followed him into the car as he found a more appropriate parking place. "Great," Booth said. "Brock here was just about to give me his alibi."

"Hey, Booth," Jane said. "Looks like Angela found her dad." Booth followed her gaze, which indeed led to a giddy Angela embracing her famous father. "Why don't you go say hello? I got this." Sensing there was something more at work here, Booth clapped his hand against Jane's shoulder and walked over to Angela. Jane turned her attention back to Brock and said, "So. That alibi?"

"Well ma'am, uh, that night—I was Skyping. With a friend. A friend from school."

"For how long?"

"Uh, like… two hours, ma'am."

"No need to call me ma'am, Brock," Jane said. "Detective will do."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine. Boy that's something you and Eden have in common though." At the girl's name, Brock's frown became more pronounced, as Jane guessed it would. "I know this an uncomfortable question, Brock, but I need to ask it. Did Alicia Howard have anything to do with your engagement being broken off?"

Brock sighed and looked away, hitting one fist against an open palm. "Well. Um."

"Who broke it off, you or Eden?"

"It was Eden's idea."

"And…do you have any reason to believe that Alicia helped Eden reach this life-changing decision?"

A grimace found its way briefly onto Brock's otherwise handsome countenance, and his fist started hitting his hand with a bit more force. "Yeah. If you ask me ma'am, detective, there was something unnatural about their friendship."

Jane betrayed no anger at his word choice. "Are you insinuating that Alicia Howard and Eden Carlisle were romantically involved?"

Brock finally returned his gaze to her, appearing flushed. "Uh… to be perfectly honest, detective, I don't know what… 'insinuating' means."

"It means you are suggesting they were in a relationship."

"Oh. Well, it's just a suggestion, then, detective."

"And that's why you believe Alicia got Eden to break off the engagement."

"Well, why do you think they couldn't bring themselves to stay at BYU? Perversions like that aren't allowed," Brock said stiffly. "Alicia didn't trust me."

"Would you like to hear Eden's side of the story?" Jane asked, and Brock froze. "She said Alicia helped convince her to break up with you because of your behavior."

He looked at her like he was waiting for more. "What'd she say I'd been doing?"

Jane's eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the anxiety in his tone. "She said you'd done nothing illegal."

"I haven't."

"Just that you hadn't been acting like a true son of God."

Brock snorted and looked away again. "Huh. Well." He scrunched his nose, and for all his attempts to project a tough exterior, it appeared to Jane as though he were fighting back tears. "Then that's a matter between me and the Lord, isn't it, detective? Look. Alicia was—she was a nice girl. I'm still upset that she had a part in splitting up me and Eden, for whatever reasons she had, but I could never hurt anyone."

Jane handed him her card. "Well, be in touch if you think of anything else you'd like to tell us. Oh, and I'll need the name of whoever it was you were Skyping at the time of Alicia's murder."

He appeared to be deliberating, and Jane recognized the classic signals of someone trying to decide whether or not to try and risk lying. Finally, with another short sigh he said, "Taylor White."

Again betraying nothing but professionalism, Jane nodded, thanked Brock, and told him to get back to his work. She headed over to Booth and Angela, and despite the seriousness of the case, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Billy Gibbons. Actually meeting a man whose music had been a formative part of her childhood was more than a little surreal, and he turned out to be much more pleasant than she could have brought herself to expect. He put her right at ease, and Jane was almost sorry when Booth (rightfully) pointed out that they really needed to be getting back to work.

"Right you are, Booth," she said. "Excuse me, Mr. Gibbons—"

"Please, detective. It's Billy."

She smiled. "And it's Jane. Anyway, we've got a murder to solve. Angela, would you like to stay?"

"Yes, darlin', why don't you? I can give you a lift back to headquarters," Billy said. "And I'll give you first pick of the donuts I brought."

"Ooh, that's a hard one to pass up! I'll see you guys later!" Angela laughed, putting an arm around her father.

"So I got a chance to have a word with that Stevens guy before I spoke to Billy," Booth said as he and Jane walked back to his car. "He was afraid we were about to arrest Brock. Said he was one of the best kids he's had under him for a while. Polite, compliant, good-natured. Strong, too."

"We need to keep an eye on him," Jane said, getting into her seat. "He seemed really conflicted."

"About what?" Booth asked, cutting off a biker as he made his way back onto the road.

She shrugged. "Everything. Like …I dunno, it just seems like he's hiding something. It's not so much what he said, but how he was saying it. And he seems to have been under the impression that Alicia and Eden were um, more than friends." When Booth turned to gape at her, Jane slapped his shoulder and said, "Booth! Would you please keep your eyes on the road? You're scaring me!"

"Yeesh, sorry. But what did you expect me to do when you dropped a bomb that big? Jane, that's huge."

"If it's true. He didn't seem totally convinced himself."

"Why'd he say it then?"

"I don't know, maybe he was trying to throw us off? I mean I'll ask Eden about it, obviously, but… phew." She rubbed the back of her neck and stared out the window. "He said it was a perversion. Sorry—you don't have to say anything about that, Booth. It just makes me so mad sometimes, you know? Thinking that people, grown-up mature people, are out there telling kids to hate on other people just because they're gay. Just because they're born with an inclination to be attracted towards people of their own sex. And then those kids grow up and stay ignorant and teach their kids the same crap and it's just this vicious, never-ending lineage of prejudice!"

"I know," Booth said quietly.

Jane sighed heavily. "Sorry, Booth."

"Don't be. Don't be sorry. You're totally justified in being upset."

"You know… I've been thinking a lot about something Eden said the first time we met her. She said that she believed the devil had just as much influence over people as God. Do you think sometimes he can get a hold of good people and make them think the stuff they're saying is good? I mean I get the feeling that most of the perps we deal with, the murderers, the criminals, they know what they're doing is wrong. But what happens when the devil takes a good man… and puts his own evil ideas in his head?"

Booth stole a glance at her. "Huh. You saying you believe in the devil?"

"I dunno. I never really thought about it before. Isn't that weird? I mean, you spend all this time debating whether or not God exists, but you don't wonder about the devil. Isn't the idea of a devil just as absurd as the idea of a God? Objectively, I mean. Like if you believe in one, is it crazy not to believe in the other?"

"This is too much theology too early in the morning, Jane," Booth sighed. "Let's stick to what we do know for sure, all right?"

Jane snorted. "What, you mean the case? We know nothing about the case, except that Alicia Howard was murdered. We don't have a key suspect, and we don't have proof of any exceptional motives. Let's just hope Hodgins was able to figure something out."

It turned out that Hodgins did, in fact, have something for them by the time they returned to HQ. Unfortunately, the news wasn't all positive. Flanked by Brennan and Maura, Hodgins held up a small petri dish to Jane and Booth, who both leaned in closer for a better look. It contained a tiny, semi-squashed, fuzzy piece of something no longer than a centimeter or two.

"This," Hodgins said proudly, "belonged to an Aphonopelma seemanni. Or, in layman's terms, a Costa Rican Zebra Tarantula."

"Nice work, Hodgins," Jane said, straightening up. "I'm guessing by the name that they aren't native to these parts."

"No," Hodgins said, and the satisfied smile fell from his face.

Maura stepped in to explain: "We had Detective Frost do a search to find which pet stores in Boston might sell them, and none do. We even looked as far as the whole tri-county area, and came up with nothing. Only a few sold tarantulas at all, but none of them ever had this exact species."

"What about zoos?" Jane asked.

"Negative," Hodgins sighed.

"Well, damn," was all Booth could think to say. "What are the chances that this disembodied finger came from Costa Rica?"

Hodgins nodded at a nearby microscope. "Technically it's possible, although what it would then be doing in the dead hands of an American Senator's daughter is beyond me. I'm working on identifying the sediment Dr. Brennan found on it right now." Then, without skipping another beat he said, "Where's Angela?"

"Oh, she stayed back to spend a little time with her dad," Jane said. She then turned to Booth and added, "I'm gonna go check in with Frost and Korsak. I'm sure we can convince the Howards to let at least one of us attend Alicia's funeral—you know, so we can get the names and numbers of all the players. While I'm doing that, why don't you tell Maura about our proposal?"

"Proposal?" Maura said, raising her eyebrows as Jane grinned and left the room.

"Yeah. So Eden's planning on having some sort of memorial service at her parents' house for Alicia," Booth explained. "And Jane thought it might be a good idea for us to go to it, so we can sort of scout the scene for more suspects. Also, you know, get a better picture of the person Alicia had become in the last year. But Jane had this idea that people might be more open to sharing information with us if we went undercover as fellow Mormons."

"I see."

"Do you… think there's any merit to that idea?"

Maura furrowed her brow. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. Although you should know that there is a very distinctive vernacular that comes with their religion. There are plenty of phrases and words that, as someone outside their faith, you are not aware of and they will notice your ignorance."

"It's true," said Brennan. "Religious groups make for fascinating anthropological studies because of the subtle yet extremely important differences among them."

Booth looked from one doctor to the other. "So what, like, so if I said something wrong, they'd notice?"

"That's a possibility, but let me put it this way," Maura said. "Could you act like you knew what someone was talking about if they mentioned, say, a patriarchal blessing?"

"A—what?"

"Or a celestial room? Or Nephi?"

"What's a Nephi?"

"One of their most important ancient prophets. Agent Booth, I'm afraid that you don't have sufficient time to do the research necessary to complete this undercover mission successfully. Why not just go as a detective and a federal agent? I'm sure these people would be more than happy to speak with you."

"But see, that's just it," Booth said. "Maura, the whole point of undercover is to get people to speak to us like ordinary people. I'm sure they would be willing to cooperate, but there's so many little, subtle things like Bones said—just seemingly everyday details that they think are unimportant. They accidentally leave something out when they're speaking to an authority figure that they might have let drop in front of a regular person. Now see, here's my theory: I go to this memorial service pretending to be, say, Alicia's priest from school."

"Her bishop, she'd have a bishop," Maura said. "Not a priest."

"See? This is exactly why you would then come undercover as say, my wife," Booth said. "You know the intricacies way better than me or Jane, and we need your knowledge to help us out. Jane could even go just as a detective, but you and I, we'd be undercover Mormons!"

Though Booth had presented this idea with the enthusiasm of Santa Claus pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack, Maura did not seem quite as excited. "That does sound like a good plan in theory, Agent Booth, but I'm not sure I'm the right person to help you."

"What are you talking about? Of course you are! You're perfect!"

"I can't—"

"Lie? Yeah, Jane told me that already. Are you just really bad at it? Is that why you can't do it? You think you're unconvincing?"

"That's partly it," Maura said, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I still haven't ever strongly pursued the reasoning behind it. I don't know if I have a neurological condition that causes it or what, but I have trouble functioning when I'm knowingly telling a lie to someone. I'd be lying about being a Mormon and about being your wife."

"Look. Have you ever done undercover before?"

"Yes, once."

"So unless you were going undercover as medical examiner Dr. Isles, weren't you lying?"

Maura stared at him. This was a fair point to make—her one excursion into the world of going undercover had been at Merch, where she played a waitress. A gay one. How much of that had been a stretch? Still, she had to concede that Booth had a point. "I see what you mean, Agent Booth."

"You wouldn't even have to do that much lying," Booth said. "I can introduce you to people, like, hey, this is my wife! And then you just go into asking them stuff about Alicia, and anything you know about her. Leaving out truths is easier than lying, right? You can do it, I promise."

His eagerness and encouragement were paying off, as both were starting to rub off on Maura. Neither of them noticed the slightly peeved look on Brennan's face when Maura finally smiled and said, "All right, Agent Booth. Let's give this a shot."

"Great!" he laughed. "Maybe you could even get some practice in now. The next time somebody asks you something, tell a lie."

"Oh! Well, gosh, I don't know if I can do that. I mean, need sufficient mental preparation—to 'get in the zone,' as Jane might say."

A lab technician walked in just then, handing Maura a folder and saying, "Dr. Isles, when you get a chance, if you could look over these documents…?"

"Of course, thank you," Maura said, skimming through them. "I have a meeting with Commander Cavanaugh in half an hour, but I'll get through what I can before then." She maintained a straight face until the tech was out of the room, then turned to Booth with an open-mouth grin. "Agent Booth!"

"Yes…?"

"Did you hear that? I just lied!"

"You don't have an appointment with Cavanaugh?"

"I do, but it's in thirty-two minutes! Not an exact half an hour!"

Booth nodded and smiled slowly. "Okay! Well! Good start there, Maura!"

"Thank you," she said, nearly beaming. "If you all will excuse me, I need to give these a going-over. I'll be in my office if you need anything!"

Booth watched her go, then turned to see how Hodgins was coming along. He found his path blocked by Brennan, who had her arms folded and was giving him a shrewd look. Before he had a chance to ask, she said, "You certainly seemed eager to go undercover as Dr. Isles' spouse."

"I'm just eager to have her expertise at hand."

"Booth, you didn't even ask me if I'd like to go with you! I have a relatively extensive knowledge of this cult as well—"

"Geez, Bones, have some respect, don't call it a cult!"

Speaking over him, Brennan said, "In recent years that word has unfairly been given a negative connotation, when really all a 'cult' refers to is a particular system of religious worship. Mormonism is just as much of a cult as Catholicism or Judaism or Islam. But my point is that I have a certain camaraderie with you that Dr. Isles can in no way cultivate by the time you go undercover. I believe I could more convincingly play someone who's been married to you for several years than she could. We've even done it before!"

Narrowing his eyes and grinning, Booth said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Brennan said, looking affronted. "I'm merely striving to help you and Detective Rizzoli get as convincing an undercover couple as possible."

"Look, Bones. Yes, we've gone undercover as a husband and wife before, but that was different."

"How is it different?"

"We're going to a memorial service. Previous experience has taught me that the only respect you have for death is the clues and the evidence their bodies leave behind. These people who'll be mourning—they're like me. They believe in life after death. They believe that Alicia can still hear them, hear their prayers, and can watch them from heaven. You don't believe in any of that, and you never hesitate to scientifically point out to people why they shouldn't believe, either. I don't think you could keep all that to yourself at this service, when it's all anyone is going to really be talking about."

Although Booth's tone had been explanatory and not accusatory, Brennan couldn't help but feel like she ought to be offended. Booth walked over to Hodgins and the computer Maura had leant him, and began a conversation about the sediment he'd been studying. Rather than join in, Brennan paused for some quick self-reflection. She felt no remorse for her own beliefs about the afterlife, and didn't feel bad about raising an eyebrow when people expressed their hopes about the "spirits" of deceased loved ones still living on. Everyone dies someday, so there's no reason to romanticize it. What bothered her was the implication that Booth believed Dr. Isles would be more civil or even deferential about it, and that he really seemed to respect that. It was silly, she knew, but Brennan recognized whenever Booth used a reverential tone to describe someone or something, and she enjoyed it when that special sort of praise was reserved for her.

This is ridiculous. I'm getting upset over nothing. Nodding to herself, she turned around and went to Hodgins side to see how she could help.

About twenty minutes later, Jane was headed back downstairs to talk with Booth, and her timing happened to coincide with Angela's return to headquarters. They exchanged a smile at this happy coincidence, and Angela felt like a schoolgirl with a crush when she saw that instead of waving and moving on, Jane stopped and waited for her to walk over.

"So how's the old man?" Jane asked.

"Very good, and very impressed with you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. He doesn't get phased by much, but sometimes his fans can get a little out there. He appreciated that you were down-to-earth." Angela set down her purse and shrugged off Jane's blazer. Sheepishly handing it back to the detective, she said, "Sorry I'm such a loser and forgot my jacket."

Jane's grin widened as she took the blazer and slipped it back on, noting a very subtle hint of Angela's perfume on the collar. "Don't sweat it, it's my pleasure. Glad I could help out."

Angela could not believe that someone this overwhelmingly attractive was single and was flirting with her. She also couldn't believe that every feature of one person could be so sexy. This realization had sort of a dazing effect, but Angela pulled herself together quickly enough to say, "Oh! I forgot—" She picked up her purse again and pulled out a small paper bag, handing it to Jane. "There was a donut left, and my dad said I should bring it back to you. Hope you like chocolate."

"Ooh! My favorite kind," Jane chuckled, peering inside. "And it's a great excuse for me to grab some more coffee, too."

"Cool. So where's the gang?"

"Downstairs in the morgue. I was just headed down."

"Great, I guess I'll meet you down there, but uh… could you tell me where the nearest restroom is?"

"Sure thing, it's down the hall, second door on the…left."

"Thanks Jane!"

"Of course."

As Angela walked quickly down the hallway, Jane watched her go, appreciating the way those tight jeans accentuated her fit ass in addition to her nice legs. But she was jarred out of this (admittedly inappropriate) reverie when a security guard, also watching Angela, elbowed his buddy and said, "How'd you like some fries with that shake?"

"Excuse me?" Jane said a bit loudly, wondering if she had misheard. Judging by the guilty look on the guy's face, she hadn't. "Keep those thoughts to yourself, officer." Because fat load of good it does me to do that… She headed to the café to pour herself some coffee, and was quickly apprehended by her mother. "Oh hey, ma. What's…" Catching a glimpse of her shocked expression, Jane raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Uh, what's up…?"

"Janie, who was that gorgeous creature I just saw you talking to?"

"Huh? Oh, that's Angela Montenegro, she works at the Jeffersonian with Booth and Dr. Brennan."

"Why was she wearing your jacket?"

"Well, we were outside earlier, and she'd forgotten hers, so…"

Mrs. Rizzoli smiled. "Aw, Jane! You're such a gentleman. I wish Frankie and Tommy were half as good at handling women as you are."

"Thanks, ma."

"So…"

Jane put a lid on her coffee and turned fully to look at her mother. "So…?"

"You gave her your jacket and she brought you a donut. And don't think I couldn't see the looks you two were giving each other!"

"Ma! Can we not talk about this at work, please?" Jane asked in a hushed voice.

"What? It's an honest question!" Mrs. Rizzoli insisted. "She's beautiful, and if she works at the Jeffersonian, she must be really smart."

"Yeah, I know…"

"Are you gonna ask her out?"

"I don't have time for this right now, ma!" Jane tersely responded. "We both need to get back to work!" With one more annoyed look, she walked around her mother and back to the door. Then, as was so often the case, Jane felt guilty for being so short with the woman who had spent twenty hours in labor to give her life, so she turned back just enough to catch her mother's eye and say, "Maybe."

She made sure to leave again before she could see Mrs. Rizzoli's reaction, which was probably just as well. It had been a long time since Jane had been involved with anyone, so it was nice that she could be putting herself back out there again. But like any good mother, Mrs. Rizzoli wasn't totally ignorant of who she felt her daughter really wanted: those vibes between Jane and Maura seemed more than friendly. For her part, Mrs. Rizzoli would be thrilled if the two of them were together, but like everyone else, she was under the impression that Maura was romantically interested only in men. Jane would have to make the first move… well, maybe someday! Because after all, a mother can dream.

While Jane's awkward conversation with her mother had been going on, Angela was touching up in the bathroom. It had gotten quite breezy outside, and much as the windswept look often suited her, Angela wanted to be a bit more put-together. She had just finished re-applying her lip gloss when Maura, on her way up to see Cavanaugh, stepped into the restroom.

"Oh, hello, Angela!"

"Hi, Maura." She shut the lip gloss and put it back in her purse, closing it with a sharp snap. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine. I'm fine. Hodgins was able to identify the piece of an arthropod Dr. Brennan and I found earlier, so it's been a fairly successful day so far." She was going to go ahead and enter the first stall, but caught a glimpse of Angela's expression in the mirror, which made her halt. Angela was looking at her, biting her lip as if biting back a question. "Angela? Is there something else you'd like to say to me?"

Ever since Jane had mentioned Maura's inability to lie, Angela had considered asking the doctor straight-up whether she was attracted to Jane. Confrontations like this were never awkward for her, but now that her moment had come, she was anxious about the reply. Even if Jane wasn't interested in Maura that way, knowing that Maura was would force Angela into an uncomfortable position…

After a short pause, Angela sighed and turned away from the sink to look at Maura full-on. "Okay, I've just got to ask you something, Maura. And if you think it's none of my business or that I'm being rude, please just tell me and I won't say anything else." She stopped to make sure Maura was on board with this, and when the doctor nodded, Angela continued: "Be honest with me. Do you like Jane?"

"Certainly I do. She's my best friend."

"I know, but I mean…do you like her as more than a friend?" When a reply didn't come right away, Angela took a step closer and explained, "This isn't just me being nosy, I swear. I'm really attracted to her. Like… wow. Just wow. But I don't want to, uh, come between you two if there's something there."

"There isn't," Maura said blankly. "We're just friends."

"Right, but…I mean if you wanted more out of that friendship, I don't want to get in the way of that. The first time I met Jane, I didn't know about you. I didn't know how you guys, um, interacted. So I hope I don't offend you when I say this, but it kind of seems like there's something there…"

She trailed off, waiting for Maura to pick it up. After a moment, Maura forced herself to smile and said, "That's very chivalrous of you, Angela, and I take no offense at your assumption that there's something between me and Jane. You're not the first person to point it out, in fact!"

Angela couldn't help but feel that Maura was avoiding giving her a straight answer. "So… do I have the green light?"

"Are you asking my permission to pursue Jane?"

"I'm asking if you are attracted to her. If the answer is yes, hey. I'll be sad, but I'll go back to D.C. and get over it."

Another lengthy pause followed. Maura only answered eventually because she figured that the odds of the restroom remaining private for much longer were very slim. "No, Angela," she said softly. "I am not romantically interested in Jane."

Angela smiled with relief, as if this was Maura's blessing. The woman couldn't lie, so she shouldn't feel guilty, right? "That's good to know, Maura, thanks! And you know, nothing might even happen, but just in case it did, I wanted to make sure you were cool about it. See you!" With a cheery wave, she collected her things and walked out of the restroom.

As soon as the door had swung close behind her, Maura took a step forward and tightly gripped the sink's edges with her hands. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes screwed shut, waiting for the pain in her stomach to grow sharper. It already felt as though she was going to throw up, but she wasn't surprised: she always felt that way after telling a lie.

A/N: So yeah, Maura's still trying to practice lying/work on figuring herself out. She has her own secrets that I haven't written about yet though, so...stay tuned! And if you feel like this story isn't providing the Rizzles you so desperately crave, I'm working on an AU fic right now. And just uploaded a video of them set shamelessly to a song by the Pussycat Dolls. Check out my profile for a link if you're interested, because comments are greatly appreciated- as are reviews! :) Y'all are awesome. Oh, and then go watch Downton Abbey.