A/N: So...I think I finally figured out the pattern for my updates. I'm good for a short while, then write half a chapter and let it sit for like three weeks before I can decide how to end it. Possibly my Rizzoli & Isles AU is to blame for my writer's block here. That one is much easier to write, and also has a built-in excuse to prolong the wait before the Rizzles-ness, unlike this admittedly sloppy angst. I still love the idea of all these characters knowing each other, but I struggle to write for them! Especially Brennan. That's why I don't have her in this as much as I probably should. Anyway, for anyone still reading this, I apologize for the long wait! I suck, I know.

Angela had taken a cab back to the hotel from Jane's apartment, and waited anxiously in the lobby for Booth to arrive. When he finally did, she grabbed his arm and yanked him up the nearest stairwell (eliciting reminiscent laughter of a nearby elderly old couple who no longer had it in them to race up the stairs to a bedroom like that). But Angela's intention was merely to get Booth alone so they could discuss, to use the scientific term, what the crap was going on.

"All right, so what happened?" Booth asked as soon as they were in the room he shared with Hodgins (which was currently empty). "Why're you so spooked?"

He shut the door and with a dramatic sigh, Angela flopped onto her back on one of the beds. "I hate that Jane's so hot," she moaned, rubbing her eyes.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No," Angela sighed, sitting up again. "I'm just explaining that I honestly do find her attractive, and not just in a physical sense. Man, you should've seen me back there. I handled it so well."

"Handled what well?" Booth was almost afraid to ask.

"Nothing sexual," Angela said, hoping to get the terrified look off her friend's face.

"So you two didn't, uh…"

"We made out on her couch for a while, but before anything else happened, she suddenly get all emotional because she told me she's into someone else. And she didn't want to use me. Booth, are all of your friends as noble as you are?"

Booth merely snorted, sitting on the edge of the other bed and facing Angela. "Nope. Jane's really the only one with scruples. Did she tell you who it was? The person she likes, I mean?"

Angela bit her lip. "Yes."

"Maura?"

"What—yes! How'd you know?"

"She told me."

"Oh, crap. Was I supposed to tell you?"

"You didn't, so it's okay."

"No, no, Booth, it's not okay. Before I started flirting with Jane—I mean, before I actually allowed myself to follow up on any of it, I asked Maura if she liked her. At all. I asked if there was any attraction there. I wanted to make sure because, I mean, you know, I told you at the bar it seemed like there was something going on between them. And then Jane said Maura couldn't lie, so I asked her about it, and she said she was not attracted to Jane." She shook her head in disbelief when Booth started laughing. "Booth! This is not funny! This is the antithesis of funny! Why are you laughing?"

He could barely get it out: "Maura lied to you!"

"How could she have?"

"She did! She lied to you! How long did you stick around after she told you she wasn't attracted to Jane?"

"Like…I don't know, like two seconds?"

"That's it, then. For all we know, she probably passed out on the floor after you left."

"Why do you think she was lying?"

"Well first of all, it's my own damn fault," Booth cried, the realization hitting him and making him furious with himself. "I told her to practice for our undercover. She was so worried about screwing it up that I told her to try lying."

Angela shook her head again, looking even more confused. "Why would she lie about something so serious though?"

"I don't know! She probably thought nothing would come of it, I dunno—anyway, she told me tonight. She is interested." He nodded when Angela's eyes widened. "Oh hell yeah, she is interested."

"Wh—when did she tell you this?"

"At the party. Sober. After you guys left."

"After we…oh, geez. Oh, man."

"Yup. You were the one hot enough to make her crack."

"Well what do we do?"

"Do?"

"Yeah! Look, Booth. What we've just told each other? That was probably never intended to be shared. But we did it anyway. I don't know about you, but I'm a little drunk, so that's my excuse. But now we have a responsibility to make something happen with this! You don't just tell people you're in love with someone and then let it lie, and not do anything! We've already shared their secrets, so now we have to make sure it doesn't stay secret!"

Booth was getting carried away by the slightly manic look in Angela's eye. "Man, you're right. They are way too miserable without each other and this is stupid. It's what they both want. Now we just have to make it happen! Ah, Ange, I love that you're a woman and you know these things!" He high-fived her. "You should've seen Maura after we left that party. She got wasted."

"Wasted?"

"Yeah. I mean I feel kinda bad; we were talking about Jane and she kept getting depressed, so she kept knocking back these martinis."

Angela's expression was serious again. "Martinis plural? Booth, did you leave her alone at all during this period of time? Any trips to the bathroom, or… breaks for fresh air?"

"Uh…I left her to get the car when we were leaving."

With a loud gasp, Angela said, "NO."

"What?"

"When Jane and I were—um, together, her phone went off and that's when we stopped making out. She didn't check to see who it was but, oh my God, what if it was Maura? Oh no. She'll have left some rambling drunk text or phone message about how she feels and Booth, that cannot be how Jane finds out!"

"Why not? Then our job would be done for us."

"NO! Booth, it can't be that way! Think how embarrassed Maura would be!"

"We don't even know if she did that!"

"Well we have to find out!"

"How do propose doing that?"

"We are going to Jane's apartment and you are finding out."

"Angela, c'mon, I'm bushed—"

Angela got violently to her feet. "You're bushed? Oh what, so you're tired, and that means your best friend's love life can take a backseat? No. No, no." She grabbed his arm and yanked him off the bed. "We are going over there right now. So help me, Booth, my date tonight did not come to a grinding halt just so we could stop now!"

"Stop now?" Booth groaned, though he was allowing himself to be dragged out of the room and back down the hall. "C'mon, Angela, they're grown women. Maybe a drunk, rambling message is the best way to have this out."

"I can't believe you! I thought you were all about helping Jane be happy!"

"I am! I want to help her, but not like this! Not by breaking into her house and erasing her messages!"

"Booth, it's not going to be as blunt as that. This is war. You've been to war, you know what I mean! We need diversions, subterfuge, all that."

"Look, I don't like the idea of us taking sides here. I'm Switzerland, all right? Seeley Switzerland Booth. Not giving either of them an edge. Breaking into Jane's house feels…"

"Hey, I'm Switzerland, too, all right? Angela Switzerland-but-will-be-Jane's-sexual-ally-if-needs-be Montenegro."

"Great," Booth sighed. They had already reached the parking lot, and Angela was looking for his car. "Okay, so what's the plan here? I drive us over there, and then what?"

"I wait in the car while you go up and get Jane's phone. She'll be tipsy, and if my women's intuition is correct—which it always is—she'll have probably had more to drink since I left. Distract her, get her phone, see if Maura left a message. It's as simple as that."

"Isn't this an invasion of privacy?"

"Hey. When drinking is involved, all bets are off. Let's move, or I will drive there without you."

Mostly because it looked as though Angela was ready to do just that, Booth swerved in front of her and got into the driver's seat. He wondered how exactly they had gotten to this point, Angela cackling mischievously in the seat next to him, Jane and Maura doing God knew what. Booth was still trying to wrap his head around everything he had learned that evening, and the questions he still felt needed to be answered: Maura had admitted to him that she was in love with Jane, who thought Maura was straight. Why hadn't Maura dropped a hint? Hell, why hadn't she just come forward with her story about Vivian? Being so open himself, it annoyed him to witness what he perceived to be romantic cowardice in others. These two women obviously needed to be together, but for whatever reasons, they had restricted themselves from even bringing it up to each other! Women are stupid.

"Okay," he said, once he had reached Jane's apartment. "You stay here, Angela—I'm sure the last thing Jane needs right now is another evening call from you. Stick with the car, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said lightly. "I'll be here when you get back. So be quick."

Booth merely grumbled an incoherent reply before launching himself out of the car. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, because it still felt weird to him, even if he thought Angela had a point. It would have devastated him beyond hope if Brennan had first learned about his feelings for her through a drunken ramble. That is, of course, assuming Maura even did something like that.

When he got to Jane's door, he heard the sound of a vacuum going off inside. Booth sighed heavily, knowing it would probably be hard for her to hear the knock. So banged his fist repeatedly against the door, as loud as he could. Every now and then he paused to give his hand a rest, and to hope the vacuum would turn off, but it never did. The volume and urgency of his knocking increased, when he suddenly found himself being confronted by a girl maybe in her twenties.

"Sir," she said, looking somewhat cross, "Please don't be upset with Detective Rizzoli for vacuuming so late at night. I know it's noisy, but she has a lot on her mind. She's a detective. Whatever it is, vacuuming helps ease her stress."

"I'm not knocking to complain about the noise," Booth said. "Detective Rizzoli's a friend of mine. I'm here to talk to her about something. JANE!" he shouted.

As if by a miracle, her door finally swung open just then. In simultaneity, Booth and Jane's neighbors felt their jaws drop at Jane's appearance: she had never bothered to put on pants, and was still in her unbuttoned uniform top and loosened tie, her hair falling loose and long down her back. A near-empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Red was in her hand while the vacuum remained on, lying on its side in the corner of the room.

"Booth!" she laughed hoarsely, pulling him in by the sleeve. "C'mon in!" She slammed the door behind him, leaving her speechless neighbor in the hallway. "Sorry about the noise," she said, walking over to the vacuum and turning it off with her toe. "I guess I just kinda forgot to turn that off. What're you doing here?"

"Uh…I…um…" He knew it was wrong, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult to focus on speaking properly when Jane was standing in front of him like this, drunk and only half-dressed. This was by far the most skin he had ever seen of hers, and while it wasn't quite arousing, it was definitely distracting. "Jane. Would you mind putting on some pants?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "Oh, of course! Silly me. Sorry." She passed him and walked over to the couch, where her slack were still on the floor in a heap. "Go ahead, take a seat," she said, pulling the pants back on as Booth wearily collapsed onto the couch. "You'll have to 'scuse my appearance, Booth. I should be having sex right now."

"Uh…"

"With Angela," she clarified, yawning. "Your friend Angela. She and I should be in my bed right now but we're not. You know why we're not, Booth? Because of Maura goddamn freaking Isles, that's why. Miss Dr. I'm-so-lovely Isles."

"Huh. So has she, uh…contacted you at all tonight?"

"Who?"

"Maura…"

"Maura. Oh, yes. Maura. She did, yeah."

Booth's heart took a leap. "She did?"

Jane nodded and pointed to the kitchen, where Booth saw her cell phone lying on the counter. "Yah. I saw I had a missed call from her and a message, and I think she left the message because nobody else's called me since this afternoon. You sent me that text, though. And Maura called."

"She did? But you didn't listen to the message?"

"Nope. I erased it."

"You erased it…"

"Yeah." She finished off Johnnie Walker, tossing the empty bottle to Booth and putting her legs up onto his lap. "Yep. If it wasn't for her, I'd have gotten laid tonight. Your friend's really hot, Booth, but she's not Maura. And I want her, I want Maura."

"I know you do, pal." He was a little worried; he had never known Jane to get this drunk, and he definitely didn't think she would while embroiled in such a serious case. What if that message had been left by Eden, or someone else relating to the Howard murder? He would have to assume that were that the case, whoever it was would try again tomorrow when Jane failed to respond. There wasn't much he could do about it now. At least he could rest easy knowing that if Maura had indeed been the one to leave a message, Jane hadn't heard it. That was ultimately for the best, right? It would have to be. "Hey, Jane."

"Yeah?"

"What would you do if Maura was into you?"

"What would I do?"

"Yeah."

Jane raised an eyebrow at Booth and grinned wickedly. "I would take her every day. And treat her like a princess. OOH! Like Cinderella, 'cause—don't tell anyone this—Cinderella was always my favorite. I used to watch that one all the time when I was a kid and no one was around. If Maura loved me, I'd never ask anyone for anything ever again. Never ever. Because what more could I want, Booth? What more could I need to make my life a perfect happy sunshine state all the time? Nothing. Not a blasted thing. She's all I need."

"Good to know," Booth muttered, patting her leg and shifting it off of him.

"You aren't leavin', are you?" she moaned.

"Do you want me to stay?"

After a considerable pause, she said, "No. Sorry, I had to think about it first. I thought maybe if we did some role play, you could pretend to be Maura and it would all be good because I am—I am really drunk right now. But you're a man, so I don't think it'd work."

"Yeah, probably not," Booth said, trying and failing to visualize himself in one of Maura's dresses. Wow, was that a disturbing image. "You gonna be okay, Rizzoli?"

"Of course. I'm Detective Cadet Jane Rizzoli. I get crap done. Gimme a terrorist and I'll shoot him. Gimme a perp and I'll chase him down. Gimme a beautiful woman and I'll…" She sighed and groaned again, leaning over, and Booth thought for a moment she was about to throw up. Instead, she only muttered, "and I'll send her off."

"What if I gave you a doctor?" Booth asked.

She looked up at him and half-smiled. "I'll just about die."

Booth wound up staying another ten minutes, waiting until Jane had fallen asleep on her couch before he left. Although Angela bombarded him with questions the minute he got back to the car, he refrained from telling her anything more than "I don't think we have anything to worry about." With that, they drove back to the hotel in silence, both their brains buzzing with too much excitement and too much concern to be able to focus on talking. Angela was surprised to get back to her room and see that Brennan wasn't back yet (there must be more to Frankie than I thought!), but not as surprised as Booth was to open his door and see Brennan sitting calmly on Hodgins' bed.

"Geez!" he shouted when he caught sight of her, grabbing his heart and collapsing against the closed door. "Bones! How'd you get in here?"

"Dr. Hodgins gave me one of the spare keys," she answered simply. "Where have you been?"

"Jane's."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"Approximately fifteen minutes ago, I received a very strange message from Dr. Isles."

"What?"

"Yes. In addition to three missed calls from Angela, I had one from Dr. Isles, and she left me a message as well. I spent quite a while dancing with Frankie, which is when I'm assuming they both called, and why I didn't pick up my phone. It wasn't on me."

Booth walked over to his bed, sitting opposite of Brennan. "What did she say?"

Frowning, Brennan pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and put in the password for her voicemail. "I was hoping you could actually help me decipher it. As you spent the evening as Dr. Isles' date, you know her better than I do, and you also of course know Jane much better than I do, and that's who the message is about. Here."

She held out the phone, and Booth quickly took it in time to hear Maura's message: "Dr. Brennan, hello, this is Dr. Maura Isles. Booth just dropped me off at home …well, quite a while ago. I just woke up, but I'm still clothed, so I assume he didn't do anything to me. I don't think he would, do you? Besides, I wouldn't let him, because he is clearly in love with you and I am clearly not. In love with you, I mean. Or him. Is that clear? Is it clear that I love Jane? It might not be clear, now that I think about it, even if everyone else seems to think it is. Jane doesn't. You asked me before if I identify as a lesbian, and I don't, but Jane does, and I love her. Perhaps some time you and I could discuss Kinsey's studies on the homosexual? I'm sure it would make for a fascinating conversation, but Jane would never talk to me about it because she'd say it would make her head hurt. God, she can be such an idiot sometimes, but I love her anyway. Don't you? I mean, don't you love Seeley? He's such a wonderful man. And he loves you. Oops. My tortoise needs me. Good night!"

When the message had ended, Booth stonily handed the phone back to Brennan. "Well," he said after an awkward pause. "That… sure was a lot."

"Booth, are you familiar with the saying 'drunk words are sober thoughts'?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah. I'm surprised you are."

"Well, I am. Furthermore, various experiences throughout my life have provided sufficient data to back it up. You said Dr. Isles was romantically involved with another woman in the past, correct? Based on this piece of information, we know that she would therefore not be averse to a serious relationship with someone of her own gender. Furthermore, based inconclusively on the interactions you and I have witnessed between her and Detective Rizzoli, I would be willing to hypothesize that Dr. Isles is in fact telling the truth here."

"Right! Yes, okay."

"And you feel confident that Detective Rizzoli reciprocates these feelings?"

"Yup."

"Hm." Brennan sighed and made to get up. "Well, this is fairly intriguing, I must say. I never would have expected someone like Dr. Isles to get so emotionally attached to someone."

Booth stood up as well, asking, "Why? Because she's a scientist?"

"Not just that, Booth—it would be illogical to assume all people of any given vocation have the same inclinations and experiences regarding human emotions. Dr. Isles just reminds me very much of, well, me."

"I thought so too, at first, but not anymore. I don't think she's an empiricist like you are, Bones."

"She also has a filter, which I admit I don't seem to always possess," Brennan admitted. "Although I do wonder how much of that message was given due to alcoholic influence."

With a playful sneer, Booth asked, "What would happen if I got you drunk, Bones?"

"Well, I imagine it would be excessively easy to get me into bed, as even sober I've thought many times about what a pleasurable experience that would be with you," she replied very matter-of-factly. "However, I know that you are one of those people whose nature it is to connect responsibility and emotion to the physical release that comes with sex, a train of thought I do not follow. So unless you were drunk as well, there's a good chance nothing would happen between us."

"That's not exactly what I meant," Booth said. "I want to know what you'd say. If you drunken words are sober thoughts, I want to know what you'd say."

Brennan stared at him for a long while, trying to read his expression. But his features were frustratingly smooth, and ultimately Brennan said, "I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to suggest, Booth. Do you want us to go get drunk right now?"

He just chuckled softly and patted her shoulder. "Nah, Bones, not tonight. Can I make a rain-check for Thanksgiving, though?"

Before heading back to her own room, Brennan merely shrugged and said, "Despite my incredible brilliance, Booth, I do not possess the ability to see into the future."

The Next Morning…

Please be alone…please be alone… These words had been the only ones rushing through Maura's mind during the last few blocks to Jane's apartment, then all the way up the stairs, then as she knocked frantically at Jane's door. When Jane didn't come right away, Maura immediately jumped to the worst conclusion—she was in bed with Angela Montenegro and didn't want to be disturbed; possibly they were just waking up or doing something a bit more physical; Jane might be hurrying to get dressed again—no, Jane, please be alone—!

Finally, Jane opened the door looking incredibly haggard and a tad annoyed. Taking in the sight of her messy hair, sweats, and hastily-thrown on sweater, all Maura could think to say was, "You look terrible."

"Thank you," Jane said sarcastically, opening the door wide enough for Maura to step inside before closing it after her. "What brings you over here so early?"

"I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together before work," she replied, pulling a bakery container out of her bag.

Ambling over to her kitchen, Jane grumbled, "I don't think I can eat anything this morning." She went to one of the cupboards and pulled out some Advil, dry-swallowing them before she turned around to see Maura opening the bag. "…is that a Danish?"

"Cherry, yes."

And though it was against her better judgment, Jane mused, "Mm, guess I could maybe make an exception for one of those. Want something to drink?"

"Water would be fine."

"Great." Jane poured two glasses of tap water and slid one across the counter to Maura. She started a pot of coffee, then, for a very long time, stood and stared down at the Danish, trying to come to some sort of decision. "That looks so good," she explained when she noticed Maura was staring quizzically at her. "But I have such a bad hangover, Maura. I'm ashamed to admit it."

"You and Angela go out drinking last night?" Maura asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

"Mm, sort of," Jane mumbled, pulling off a corner of the Danish and hesitatingly putting it in her mouth. "We left the party and got a couple drinks… then came back here." An agonizingly long silence followed, causing Maura to nearly squirm with anxious discomfort. "Made out for a while," Jane finally sighed. "And then she left."

"Why?"

Jane looked up, raising an eyebrow at Maura. "Just because. First date, you know. I don't go further than that on a first date."

"Well if you drank so much to get such a terrible hangover, I'm impressed you managed to keep yourself to your restrictive moral standards."

Missing the bite to Maura's tone, Jane said, "I drank more after she left. Just kinda felt like one of those nights. Actually, I remember Booth coming over a while later …I fell asleep on the couch while he was here, I guess, 'cause I woke up in the middle of the night on my couch, still dressed in my uniform. I think I knocked into the wall about eight times before I finally made it to my bedroom."

Maura knew that by some miracle, Jane had yet to hear her message. If she had, it surely would have been one of the first things she'd brought up upon Maura's arrival. Unless of course she thinks it would be tactless and is waiting for me to say something about it… leave it to Jane to try and display tact at a time like this. But then an even more terrifying thought suddenly struck her—Booth had been here. What if he had started drinking with her, and he had told Jane how Maura felt about her? Panic settled into Maura's stomach, and she said, "Booth must have come here after he was with me."

"With you?" Jane asked quickly. "Where?"

"Well, at the party. Then we went to a bar as well, but he hardly drank a thing. I'm afraid I can't say the same …in fact I called you—"

"Oh, yeah," Jane said. "Sorry, did you leave a message?"

"Yes…"

"Yeah, I erased it before I even listened to it. I'm sorry, I was in a weird, drunk mood last night! Do you remember what you called about?"

Torn between relief and disappointment, Maura laughed weakly. On the one hand, it would have been incredibly embarrassing for Jane to have heard Maura drunkenly proclaiming her love for the detective. But on the other hand, it could have been a nice way to segue into discussing it. The pressure would be off, and her cards would already have been on the table.

Before giving Maura the chance to answer her question, Jane spared her the pain of having to lie and said, "Ah, you were probably a little tipsy, right? So you probably don't remember. If it was something really important, you'd know. So? How about Booth, huh? You have fun last night?"

"Yes, yes I did. He's a lovely man."

"Yeah," Jane snickered, amused by the word choice. She went to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Quite lovely. He was just a lovely soldier, too. I'm sure the FBI picked him up because of his loveliness."

"Did you ever think that you might be a little too snide, Detective?" Maura asked.

"Did you ever think that you might be a little tooprim, doctor?" Jane countered, grinning at Maura over her shoulder.

"I haven't," Maura replied honestly. "While I may seem prim to you in some ways, Jane, I would venture to say that in some regards, I would be considered quite the opposite by other cultures. For example, the one Booth and I will be masquerading in tonight. When it comes to issues like sexuality, I am far more open than a so-called prim person might be."

Jane snorted and returned back to the counter with her coffee. "Yeah?" Her smile dropped when she took note of Maura's utterly serious expression. "Maura… did you sleep with Booth?"

"What? No! Where did you—?"

"Well I don't know, you're sitting there talking about your openness with Booth and how you had a lovely time with him last night!"

"Jane, we—we didn't even—"

"What? Kiss?"

"No! I mean yes! I mean no, we didn't kiss, or hug, or anything at all!"

"Good, because I don't think I could handle that."

"Handle what? Seeley and I as a couple?"

"Yeah, it'd be too weird. You guys are like the best friends that I've got, but from two totally different worlds. Booth's like my past, the army, and you're… well, Boston." My present, my future… "So if you guys like—did anything, it'd really screw me up."

Maura narrowed her eyes, unable to keep her annoyance out of her voice or expression at Jane's words. "It would screw you up? Jane, it's none of your business who I date or who I sleep with, for that matter. Oh, Booth and I had a very romantic time last night, yes. I'm thinking that if all goes well with our undercover operation tonight, I might marry him! Just for fun!"

"Wait…you're being sarcastic, right?" Jane asked. She wasn't sobered up quite enough yet to keep up with Maura, who seemed impressively alert.

"Lord, Jane!" Maura groaned. "Yes! I meant it when I said nothing happened! I didn't slow-dance with him! I didn't take him home with me and make out on my couch for all hours of the night!"

"All hours of the night? Maura, I think you're overreacting h—"

"I'm overreacting? You're the one who couldn't even handle it if anything happened between two people you purportedly care very much about!"

"Purportedly? What the hell, Maura, you know I love you guys—"

Grabbing her bag, Maura leapt to her feet. "All right then! Let us make our own choices! Let us be adults, and do what want with who we want when we want to!" And with that, she made a very loud, very dramatic exit, trying not to think too hard about the irony of how immature her and Jane's behavior had just been.

A/N: Rest assured, folks, Thanksgiving is coming up soon (...in this story), and things will finally be brought to light. Somewhat, that is. One more hurdle to overcom before that, and it's Booth and Maura's undercover gig. If anyone is still reading this, that is.