A/N: Y'all, all bets are now off. This story has started morphing into something beyond what I anticipated, but worry not - no projects of serious angst ahead! I am still really, really invested in keeping it short in hopes of ensuring that it doesn't get left an eternal WIP. Thank you for reading; your feedback is a great early Christmas gift.

There were many supposed attractive habits and traits people possessed which Maura had long resigned herself to never understanding past a surface anthropological level. Like sure, smoking looked glamorous in fancy photo-shoots or black-and-white movies, but being around it was so unappealing and worse, unhealthy. Motorcycles were another one, or "statistically unsafe vehicular choices" in her father's words, or "noise pollutant death traps" in her mother's. Maura had had many a friend swoon over men getting onto or off of their bikes, and she had never understood the big deal.

But as she would soon learn, Jane Rizzoli was going to have a profound impact on what she found attractive from here on out.

Maura was far from being the only person watching the tall brunette getting off her motorcycle outside the coffee shop. Jane shook her hair out and stored her helmet away, totally unaware of the attention she was drawing. Almost by instinct, Maura checked her pulse as Jane unzipped her leather jacket to the navel and stepped inside. How could Maura have forgotten how breathtaking this woman was? Though barely able to make her thoughts cohere, Maura was at least cognizant of the fact that she was smiling as widely as Jane when she walked up.

"Hi!" she said with heartwarming enthusiasm, nodding at Maura's cup. "Guess you already ordered, huh? I'll just be a sec."

For as awkward as Jane had seemed to feel in their texting conversation, she was exuding plenty of confidence at the moment. Not cockiness, but a certain kind of effortless ease that Maura's tenseness rarely allowed her to cultivate when she was out on her own. Maura didn't want to be a creep, but she couldn't help watching Jane in line. The jacket was very worn and a bit too big for her, but those jeans fit nicely. Very nicely. She blushed when Jane turned around with her drink in hand and she had to flick her gaze upwards to meet Jane's eyes.

"Were you checking me out?" Jane whispered, sitting down.

Missing the delight in Jane's tone, Maura put her face in her hands and groaned. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be like every other creep you meet."

"Hey, what? No! C'mon, if I wasn't down for you potentially checking me out, I wouldn't have shown up," Jane assured her. "I mean, not that we even said this was a date, like a real date," she said, lowering her voice even more. "But you're not being creepy. You already know the uh, the interest is mutual."

She'd been about to compliment how Maura looked, but Maura cut her off: "I want to apologize again for my sister's inappropriateness, and for anything I might've said or done at my friend's party that was over the line. I don't remember much clearly, but since you made a point of signing your note as a non-stripper, I think I can guess."

Grateful that the shop was busy and too loud for anyone to be eavesdropping, Jane blushingly nodded. "I'm flattered you leapt to that conclusion, though."

"Oh, gosh. Well I mean, women must throw themselves at you all the time."

Jane looked taken aback by this assumption. "What? Why?"

Maura took a slow sip of coffee, regarding Jane over her cup. She detected a hint of panic and wondered if Jane was self-conscious about looking too gay while still in the closet. "It's not—I meant because you're so beautiful," Maura explained. "Although I mean, to be fair, I've only seen you in a suit, your somewhat masculine work attire, and this motorcycle outfit."

Ugh, even the way she sits is sexy, Maura thought as Jane laughed and shifted in her seat. How is that possible?

"Well, the suit thing was kind of a fluke," Jane said. "Most of the time when I'm off the clock, I just dress to be comfortable, which means I look like your average straight lady with poor fashion sense."

"Oh, I have to disagree. Not a single thing about how you look is average."

Jane bit her lip, trying to figure out why her impulse was to fight a smile. What made her stomach flutter at Maura's compliment when the same comment from a guy would've made her roll her eyes and/or slap him? She took a moment to think it through. In her experience guys tended to say stuff like that because 1) they fancied themselves a knight in shining armor and wanted to swoop in on a girl with low self-esteem to get laid, or 2) they were trying to be smooth and get laid. Though infused with earnestness, Maura's comment had not sounded nor felt like flirting. It came off as an objective observation intended only as a compliment, not a lead-in to score. Jane wondered if all women were like that.

"That's kind of you. Be that as it may, I can't say that I've ever met a woman who threw herself at me. Too bad, because maybe I'd have gotten to this point a lot sooner," she chuckled, gesturing to herself and Maura. "I guess it's possible, though. Maybe I just never noticed."

She'd thought they might lean into heavier/gayer subject matter after some idle chatter, but as with their texting conversation a few days ago, Maura seemed ready to get right to it. "That man at CVS, he wasn't a relative, was he?"

"No, he was not," Jane said, praying for bravery to get through this explanation a second time. "That was my boyfriend on the last night he was my boyfriend."

Maura's eyebrows shot up. "Oh! What happened?"

It had been easier to talk about this when Maura had been drunk. Jane felt self-consciousness starting to creep over her like a shroud, but pushed through it with her newfound determination to be brave. "Well …I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but you happened," Jane said. She was glad to see that Maura looked surprised by this, as opposed to smug or put off. "Some part of me knew I was settling with Casey, and that we weren't gonna be 'till death do we part.' But for right now, I dunno, I kinda figured he was the best I could do. I knew him in high school, he's hardworking, good-looking—"

"Eh," Maura muttered.

"—and a soldier, so he'd be… he'd be gone a lot," Jane finished, feeling profoundly guilting for voicing that aloud. "I guess that's not a good sign when one of your favorite aspects of a relationship is that you don't have to see each other often, is it?"

"Not in this case, no."

Jane nodded. "But he liked me, and that was pretty novel. I don't, uh, I mean I guess most of the time I have a resting bitch face, so guys don't come up and chat with me often. Plus, I mean, y'know," she said, gesturing to her body. "Flat-chested bean pole, am I right? Guys weren't exactly lining up." (She didn't pause before continuing, leaving Maura no time to register her shock that Jane didn't seem to know how gorgeous she was.) "The cop thing didn't help much, either. Scared guys away, or only attracted kinky creeps. Anyway …I know you and I only interacted for like, two minutes, but I was bummed when my boyfriend showed up and you left. I'd have much rather kept talking to you about the weather than lost my virginity to him, and that seemed like another poor indication of our relationship."

She hadn't planned on outing herself as a virgin; it had just slipped out and did little to erase the still-surprised look on Maura's face. "You're a—?"

"Yep."

"I see." Maura took another long sip, trying to mull quickly. "So, when you texted me that 'in a perfect world' you'd take me out on a date, you didn't mean because you were taken?"

It took Jane a moment to untangle Maura's confusing syntax. No, that's what I meant about the closet stuff. I can't picture my family being at all okay with the idea of me taking a woman on a date."

"I see," Maura said again. "Religious concerns, I assume?" When Jane nodded, Maura asked, "Which denomination?"

"Catholic. We are very, very Catholic."

"We? So is that why you've never acted on your attraction to women before, because you think it's sinful?"

"Um…I duno, I mean I don't think I really believe that any more. It's just all I've ever been brought up to think," Jane said. "After a point, though, it didn't seem right to me that people would get all bent out of shape about it the way they do. The rage doesn't seem proportional to the sin—or to the, whatever. I mean, gay marriage is gonna send God's wrath to America, but slavery and the genocide of Native Americans didn't do that already? Why would loving families be so bad?"

A semester's worth of notes from a World Religions elective was swirling in Maura's mind. "Well, I mean the Bible has been used to not only excuse but condone slavery, so… I mean personally, I find it useful to remember that whether you take its spiritual usefulness at face value or not, it is still a historical text."

"Um, right," Jane said, prickled by discomfort. "Anyway, I got plenty of lectures with and without scripture to back it up about why gay stuff was bad. Gays are all pedos and lesbians are all predators; they're all perverts and society's acceptance of them is a sign of the end of days."

"Your parents told you all that?"

"My parents, my congregation, and most movies and TV shows of my childhood told me that, yeah. When I was in high school, the only gay kids I knew were like, those weirdos who had way too many personal stories to share in health class, if you know what I mean. Didn't really do much to help with my association of a gay lifestyle—or gayness, sorry—with dangerous behavior. Not that that's their fault or that they owed it to anyone to be I guess what you'd call a model minority, it's just what I saw. They were living these lives I didn't want. I didn't want to do drugs, didn't want to be promiscuous. For all I know, I had other out classmates living totally normal, safe lives. I just didn't know them." She sighed, then smiled ruefully at Maura's too-composed expression. "I'm worse than you thought, huh?"

In truth, yes, but Maura wasn't about to say it. "No, I'm—it's okay," she stammered. She didn't want Jane to feel bad for unloading in what was probably the first time she'd ever felt free to do so. "So you've been feeling this way about women since you were in high school? How old are you now?"

"Twenty-two, but oh I knew way before then," Jane said casually. "I have a super clear memory of this. On the last day of third grade, I kissed my teacher, Ms. Stein, on the cheek. One of my classmate's moms teased me about having a crush. She wasn't being mean or anything; I think she thought it was sweet. But that hadn't occurred to me at all, that I had a crush, since I was a girl and Ms. Stein was a girl and I'd never heard of girls having crushes on girls. So like even though all year I'd been thinking how nice Ms. Stein was, and how friendly, and how pretty, and how smart, I just thought it was admiration—until that mom used that word. And then I was like, oh. I do have a crush on Ms. Stein! But my Ma was giving the other mom this really annoyed look. We didn't talk about it, but that look made it pretty damn clear that I wasn't gonna talk about that crush if it did exist."

It was amazing to Maura that Jane didn't seem to be exhibiting any angst in relaying all of this. She almost sounded upbeat, as if it was comforting to remind herself that these feelings had existed in her far before she was old enough to be conscious of their classification as sin.

"And then when I was a freshman or sophomore we had Father Maggione over for Christmas and—how'd it come up? Oh, my brother had a teammate who came out and he asked the Father if it was okay to still be friends with him."

"Oh dear, what did he say?"

"He said it was okay to stay friends, unless he ever made a move on Tommy. But they were only about twelve at the time, which meant, God willing, this boy wasn't actually gay because you can only be gay if you have gay, um, intercourse," she whispered.

Maura almost choked on her coffee. "What charming dinner conversation."

"Yeah…anyway, I figured for a long time that meant that so long as I wasn't doing anything with other girls, or fantasizing about them too much, I was straight and fine."

"Too much?"

"Well, I mean, sometimes I couldn't help it, y'know, if like a pretty girl was walking down the hall, or…"

"Or your subconscious would betray you when you masturbated."

Jane's reaction was so intense that Maura feared for a moment that she was having a seizure. She jumped so badly that coffee slopped out of her cup and onto the table. Jane glanced around to see if anyone else had heard Maura's comment, but it seemed more of the people looking their way had been alerted by Jane's dramatic if justified reaction. Maura didn't seem to realize she'd overstepped, which Jane found somewhat shocking. "Speaking of unsavory conversation topics…"

Maura pursed her lips. "Well, anyway, I guess by now you've heard of Dignity?"

"Like…as a concept?"

"No, the group. Dignity. It's an organization for LGBT Catholics."

"What? That exists?"

"It's existed since the late 1960s. I believe it began in San Francisco, but it's headquartered in Boston now. I think."

"How do you know it? Are you Catholic, too?"

"Oh, no. Raised atheist by atheist parents, and more interested in the study of religion as a cultural curiosity than a spiritual lifestyle," Maura said. "But I was involved with the campus LGBT center at Stanford for a while, and one of my good friends there was Catholic. She said having Dignity was life-changing."

Jane pretended to be preoccupied with cleaning up her spilled coffee. How had it never occurred to her to look for other gay Catholics before? How many were there? How many had been in her congregation growing up, also scared and silent and in denial? Were there many in Boston? She could probably get a lot more back-and-forth on theology with them than with someone like Maura. The thought of finding some to talk to made her strangely emotional; she pivoted the conversation.

"Um. I've only lived on my own for about a year," Jane said. "I shared a bedroom with both of my brothers for pretty much their whole lives, so as long as I can remember. They had a bunk bed and the most privacy I had was the pink canopy my mom got for my bed because it was so girly and pretty. I wanted it to be more like a fort," she sighed. "At the academy, I didn't really give myself the luxury of obsessing over my love life or lack thereof. I graduated, was finally able to move out, and work became my excuse for not going out much."

"What does your family make of you working in such a traditionally masculine profession?"

Jane snorted. "Ma gets a little nervous sometimes just because it can be dangerous, but overall, you kidding me? If there's anything my folks love as much as God, it's the military and police. My Ma even works in the café down at the precinct."

"I see," Maura said for the third time in so many minutes.

"Should I be worried that you seem to be saying that a lot?" Jane chuckled. "What's it a tell for?"

She was unaware that she'd repeated herself so many times. "Sorry, I guess that's what I say when I feel a response is warranted, but that I need time to process before giving a detailed answer." In this case, Jane—or at least her family—was giving off some relationship red flags, but Maura was keen to push past her typical comfort zone and learn more about Jane's feelings before either of them closed up.

"Ah, I see," Jane teased her. "Well, look. Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind right now? Process out loud."

Processing was usually something Maura considered to be a private activity, but it seemed like a fair request. "Okay. Correct me if I'm wrong: since moving out, you've come more to believe that acting on homosexual desires isn't inherently sinful. And that, despite being taught that a person is gay only if they have intercourse with someone of the same gender, you no longer believe that?"

Again, Jane needed a moment to ensure she followed. "Right, yeah. I mean, when you wanted me to give you a lap dance at that party, I was about ready to give you one!" she laughed. "That's pretty gay, isn't it?"

Maura smiled, glad to see that Jane appeared genuine in her amusement. "Well, it's not very heterosexual, I'll grant you that. So, your inhibitions about dating a woman stem more from a fear of your parents' disapproval than your own hesitation about the immorality of it?"

"Yeah, that sounds pretty accurate. I mean, Catholic guilt is a bitch," she snorted, sounding less amused this time. "But it's more my parents."

"You're close to your family?"

Jane put on what sounded to Maura like a poor impersonation of a movie mobster: "Whaddya, jokin' me? I ain't got a choice in the matter! Italian-Americans are all about three things: family, God, and Rocky." She cleared her throat, blushing at Maura's smile. "I may not see eye-to-eye with my parents on everything, but I don't wanna let 'em down, you know? And they'd be very let down by this. I'm supposed to be setting an example for my little brothers and all that, too."

With a shrug, Maura said, "You could set an example by showing them how to get women in a respectful manner."

"Oh! I so set myself up for that one," Jane laughed.

A long silence followed when Jane left it at that. For someone who thought so little of probing others with intimate questions, Maura herself was not inclined to share deeply personal details unless asked directly. Now, though, she felt the distinct need to share something with Jane that she'd never discussed with anyone else.

"You and I sound as though we've come from backgrounds almost as different as they could possibly be," Maura said. "All the same, I have an anecdote that might be worth sharing. My parents have never been the most attentive people. They've been distant my entire life. That has made me want to please them and impress them for as long as I've been conscious of that fact—my dad especially, because he and I have more in common. He's an academic and my mother's an artist. I applied to Stanford, his alma mater, and he was so excited when I got in…" She sighed, unbidden tears welling up at the memory. "I didn't want to go to California, but I knew it was a great school and I wanted so badly to make him proud. So I went, and I planned to double major in pre-med and history, so I could take some of the history classes he'd had and get some of his old professors.

"And then when I came home at the winter break, he introduced me to an alum who had a son at Stanford, and introduced us, and I started dating him because I knew my father would be really thrilled. I mean, I liked him—very handsome, very cultured, very bright. See, I'd thought maybe I was bisexual, like my mother, but by then I was starting to think I was actually a lesbian. Why did I keep dating Garrett? Because I liked him, because I wanted to spare his feelings? No. Because I didn't want to let down my father. He was so happy, and I was busy enough with other things that I could handle being with Garrett.

"Anyway, to cut things short: Thanksgiving of my sophomore year, never mind how, I found out my father was having an affair. When I was younger, I took some kind of strange comfort in my parents' benign neglect of me because of how much they were invested in their relationship. They were so in love, I thought. It was all so romantic. But it was a lie. Here I'd gone and made all these major life decisions because I wanted him to be proud of me, to care? And he was off doing this to me, to my mother?"

"Whoa, Maura, I'm so sorry," Jane murmured.

Maura shook her head and wiped away a tear. "Yeah, not great. I broke up with Garrett, dropped the history major so I could focus more on medicine, and haven't heard from my father since."

Jane wanted to reach out and cover Maura's hand with her own, but that somehow felt like too intimate a gesture. All she could do was utter another heartfelt apology.

"I'm not totally alone," Maura sniffed. "I connected with my biological mother and sister a couple of years ago, which has been really nice. But sometimes I still get mad at my father. I get mad at the time I spent, the time I wasted trying to get the respect of a man who had no respect for me or my mother. All of that to say…" She took a deep breath. "I don't mean to imply either of your parents would ever betray your trust like that, but my point is—of course it's all well and good to want to make our parents proud, but that cannot be the sole motivating factor in our major life decisions. Not if it isn't in line with our own hearts. It is not selfish, it is not sinful, to pursue happiness. No deity and no other human being can dictate what that means for you."

That cinched it: Jane reached across the table for Maura's hand. "Thank you," she said, infusing the two words with as much sincere gratitude as she could muster. "And I'm so sorry about your ass of a father."

Maura's smile widened, and she gave Jane's hand a squeeze before Jane pulled away. "Thanks."

"Phew! Um, what say we move on to something a little more chipper? What's this party you said you had tonight, an ABC party? What's that mean?"

"Oh, one of my classmates invited me. It um, it stands for Anything But Clothes."

It was Jane's turn to choke on what remained of her drink, and they spent a while debating different ensemble ideas. This eventually turned into discussion of Maura's impression of BCU so far, which itself then led to talk of Jane's Boston childhood and Stanford, a conversation that lasted long enough to annoy dozens of new customers pointedly looking at their table in vain.

It wasn't until someone muttered to a friend "those lovebirds aren't budging" that Jane realized she must look totally gone: Maura was gushing about how it had first felt to work with cadavers, a subject that in retrospect Jane imagined only could've been enjoyed by a classmate or someone with a crush. Her chin was in her hand as she listened to Maura go, wearing what must've been the world's dopiest, most lovesick grin.

When Jane straightened up, Maura glanced at her watch. "Oh, gosh! Is that the time? I've got to go!"

"Hm? But it's only 3:20; I thought you said you didn't have class till four."

Perhaps it was rude, but Maura couldn't help feeling pleased that Jane sounded disappointed. "I know, but I need time to walk to class and I like to be early."

"Can I walk you?" Jane asked. When Maura looked taken aback by this offer, she hastily added, "Sorry—is that like, some super old-fashioned guy thing to ask? I promise I won't insist on carrying your books."

But Maura was happy to take her up on it, and was also inexplicably delighted when Jane did do some old-fashioned things for her—like hold open the coffee shop door, and hold out her arm to keep Maura from crossing a street before it was safe. She didn't even seem to be conscious of doing these things. Once they had reached campus, Maura asked if she could hook her arm through Jane's under pretense of being cold.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Where are my manners?" Jane muttered. "Can I give you my jacket?"

Maura was about to say no, but was suddenly reminded of a joke she'd heard from her Catholic friend at Stanford: what's the fastest way to get a butch to strip? Have a femme say she's cold. With faux demureness, she accepted the offer. Jane smirked, remembering Maura's drunken rambling about the sexiness of women taking off their tops. She unzipped the jacket and turned away from Maura, making a show of removing it with much exaggerated shoulder-shimmying and flexing.

"Wow," Maura laughed, taking the jacket and slipping it on. "Rarely have I been so amused and so turned on at the same time."

It was still a huge thrill for Jane to hear she had turned a woman on. "Hey, cool," she said, unable to fight off a massive grin. "Is it okay if I put my arm through yours now, though?" The request was granted without a second thought.

Jane found herself hoping the students they passed would assume they were together, like a more positive version of the old woman who'd called in the noise complaint and had called her a slur. The comment had not been made with the kindest of attitudes, but there had been something strangely validating in getting the chance to claim that identity for herself while talking to someone she'd never see again. Walking arm-in-arm with Maura on campus felt like a gay test drive. And it felt damn nice.

"So…would you say that was a date, then?" Jane asked.

"A coffee date? A pre-date? I'd be comfortable with whatever you do or do not want to call it."

"Um…I'd really like to see you again," Jane murmured, and Maura's heartbeat rivaled a hummingbird's wings in speed. "In any capacity. But I'm like, so… I dunno, naïve? I don't have a bisexual mom to show me the ropes about gay stuff," she chuckled. Lowering her voice, she added, "You could lose patience with me quick. I don't even know how two women would even like… do it." She was glad not to be facing Maura for this conversation; that helped make it slightly less awkward.

For her part, Maura found Jane's openness about her lack of experience kind of endearing, given that she seemed willing to be taught. "Well, popular culture hasn't seen it of much importance until lately to consider showing the ways women can experience pleasure without men, and also growing up in a strict Catholic household I'm not terribly surprised. I found a useful starting place to be what works for you when it's just, well, you."

The nearest student was several yards away and far out of earshot, but that was still much too close for Jane's comfort. "Uh, yeah, I dunno…"

Maura assumed that given a lifetime of repression, Jane was having trouble vocalizing her thoughts on such delicate matters, especially in a relatively public area. They had reached the building where Maura's next class was, and she withdrew her arm from Jane's and turned to face her. "Thank you for your chivalry," she said, taking off Jane's jacket.

"Oh—won't you need that when class gets out?"

"Thanks, but a friend in this class has a car and will give me a ride. We'll be shopping for our ABC costume materials, so I'll just be in a warm car and warm stores."

"Oh, okay," Jane said, slipping the jacket back on. Before her nerve could get the best of her, she asked, "Uh, if it wouldn't be too weird, would you maybe …be interested in sending me a picture of whatever outfit you go with? Like …to be clear, a picture of you wearing it. If you want. If that's not too much."

As much as the promise to send a picture, Maura's smile was an affirmation that it was not at all too much to ask. She also plucked up some courage for a request of her own: "Please feel free to turn me down if this is any way inappropriate or too much, but the next time you're free, would you like to come to my house? I can make dinner, and we can talk freely without fear of anyone overhearing what you might deem less savory conversation."

"Wow. That um, that sounds really nice, but I wouldn't want to put you out."

This wasn't an attempt to politely decline; it was an honest expression of someone who didn't want to be a burden, and Maura was able to recognize that. "I wouldn't have offered if it meant you'd be putting me out. I love to cook, and I'd love to cook for you," Maura said, giving Jane's waist a pinch.

SMASH CUT TO: Maura's kitchen, interior, night. Untouched ingredients sit long forgotten on the ounter, which Maura is sitting on with her legs wrapped around Jane. They are kissing like there's no tomorrow and one or both of them are topless?! What is this movie rated, again?

Jane shook her head to clear it. "Yeah. Yeah, okay! That sounds great, really great."

"Perfect! Check your calendar and I'll text you my address."

"Cool. It's a—it's a date?"

Maura grinned. "It's a date."