A/N: Phew, meant to update sooner but I had some issues with this chapter and then sickness struck again ('tis the season!). Here's a long chapter to make up for it. I wanted to keep this story short because I was afraid my muse would be difficult to sustain, so thank you for sticking with it to this point! :)
Jane was glad she had all of Monday off, because she needed every possible minute of it to get herself prepared—emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually—for her date at Maura's.
This still felt like a dream in some ways: she had a date with a woman. A date. After years of just accepting that she'd live in the closet forever, here she was on the flip of a dime getting ready for a date at a woman's house?
Well, maybe it wasn't a total flip of a dime yet. Jane still couldn't at all imagine telling her roommate, or anyone in her family, or really anybody but Frost about her exhilaration. Maybe she'd catch a little more of her mother's giddiness if Angela would excitedly help her get ready for this date, the way she had tried to insist on going shopping with Jane and taking her to a salon before her first date with Casey (which had been at a bowling alley). But it was useless to ruminate on such fantasies at the moment; all it did was curdle her insides with anxiety.
She pivoted to a different kind of anxiety, a much more enticing one: the thought of kissing Maura. In the past, she had felt nothing but panic even when all she did was angst over whether she'd admired the looks of an actress or teacher or classmate too much; whether there was something different about her tone or expression when she complimented a woman's looks after her mother or an assuredly straight friend had. But the plan to kiss Maura did not rack her with fear or guilt. All she felt was a bubbly excitement, which was in and of itself a relief.
Maybe part of it had to do with moving out on her own. Without her parents' intermittently toxic ideas being floated by her ears like a homophobe you couldn't unfollow on Facebook, Jane was able to let her own ideas marinate a bit more. She was a touch freer to explore her identity bit by bit.
An unexpected aspect of this meant she was easing up on long-held hatred of certain "girly" things, hatred often borne more from a desire to upset her mother than from an actual dislike of a given thing. Pink might not ever be part of her wardrobe, and she'd never sleep under a canopy again, but for example Jane found herself becoming more amenable to dresses.
She had decided that was what she was wearing tonight: a form-fitting, sleeveless black dress she'd bought on her last shopping trip with her mother. She'd wondered if Maura would like to see the suit again, but this would give her the chance to see Jane in something new, and furthermore it showed off the arms Maura so clearly admired. Jane twisted around in front of the mirror to check her backside and yep, the dress showed that off pretty darn well, too.
There was not a single other instance from her life where she could recall thinking Jane Rizzoli, you are one beautiful bastard! to her reflection.
She changed back into sweats to run a couple of errands. Maura had refused to let her bring a side dish or dessert (which was probably wise), but Jane still wanted to at least bring something, which was led her to the nearest wine shop. Her family wasn't really one for wine, so she wasn't as familiar with it as she might have been with other types of drinks, but something in her gut told her wine would be the choice for Maura. After a lot of indecisive pacing she went with a Chardonnay and hoped it wouldn't taste too cheap.
On her way back home, Jane passed a flower shop and got a brainwave. Hadn't one of her first texts to Maura said that in a perfect world, she'd show up with flowers on Maura's porch for a date? The thought of getting a bouquet from a guy had never charmed her, but she felt her heart flutter at the idea of bringing Maura one. Before she could stop, she found herself inside the shop.
Roses drew her attention first, but that seemed cliché, like something Casey would've picked for her without any thought. Maura deserved some consideration. Jane pulled her phone out to google some ideas, and was comforted to see she wasn't the first person to look up romantic flowers besides roses—but then, how was trusting some random website any better than just going with roses for their recognizability? Again, Jane felt prompted to go with intuition. She put her phone away and took a deep breath: time to go rogue.
She was just waiting for something to grab her eye, based on aesthetics or perhaps somehow something that reminded her of Maura. How could she phrase that to the florist, though? Hi, I'm looking for something feminine and strong? Something that smells sweet but distinct? Something that makes you want to throw up but in a good way? To her surprise, roses were the only flowers she could recognize by sight, and even most of these names weren't familiar…
One of the first things they'd talked about was the beauty of autumn leaves, and with their colorful diversity in mind, Jane's eyes were drawn to an assortment of dahlias. She'd never seen petals layered like that before, and the deep burgundy looked so beautiful next to the pinks, fading into purple and white. They looked classy but not fragile—definitely a fit for Maura. Jane picked a bouquet and tried to quell the spring in her step as she walked over to the cashier.
It took her longer than usual to get home because she kept getting distracted and missing turns. She was consumed with innocent thoughts, innocent memories: the way Maura's smile was reflected in her eyes; how nicely her arm had fit through Jane's; the light but genuine way she laughed. Maybe Jane wasn't ready to share the reason behind her own smile with anyone else yet, but its existence—and the warm, exciting feeling which accompanied it—seemed to indicate that all was not lost.
And now, just several hours to kill.
The date was a little later than would've been ideal, but Maura couldn't bring herself to cut class or leave early, and she wanted the timing of everything to be perfect. She was determined for Jane's first real date with a woman to be an unqualified success from start to finish, sumptuous and enticing and unforgettable in every way. As she hurried from one stovetop to the other and paused to apply makeup by looking at her reflective toaster, it dawned on Maura that maybe she was putting too much pressure on herself. But she couldn't help it; she felt an insatiable need to make Jane happy, to make those deep brown eyes light up and those bashful dimples appear.
Maura had spent a considerable amount of time picking not only the menu (the entrée was a chicken dish with an autumnal apple-based sauce) but her attire and the place settings and the music (Brazilian jazz). Everything was looking and smelling great—including herself, she thought, winking at her reflection in the toaster.
The doorbell rang, and Maura went to answer it in a flurry of excitement.
They both took a moment to size each other up. Maura was also wearing a dress, burgundy with lace trim on the collar, an impressive combination of classy and alluring which helped Jane feel like she wasn't overdressed. Maura's hair somehow looked longer than it had before, and it still shone as though spun from gold. For all the world Jane had wanted to be smooth and cool when Maura opened the door, but instead she found herself gaping and horribly self-conscious, not sure what to do with her arms or if she was standing straight enough.
"Hi," Jane breathed, holding the wine out. "You look incredible, wow. Here's a, um, I brought this. You seem like a… do you like wine? Not in a—I don't mean in an alcoholic way," she hurried. "I just meant, uh, classy."
Maura smiled, inviting Maura inside. "Chardonnay! Thank you for the wine and the compliment. You look gorgeous."
"You sound surprised," Jane chuckled.
"I admit I'm surprised to see you in a dress! But you look so nice. I wouldn't have thought it easy to ride a motorcycle in a dress, let alone with a bottle of wine."
"Oh, I borrowed my buddy's car. I haven't really mastered the art of dress-motorcycle-riding and I didn't want to get helmet hair. I um, I actually told this friend about this date," she said, her own grin widening at the smile this elicited. "I'm not sure he'd have leant me the car for anything less important. He's the only person—besides you, I mean—who knows I'm, uh, not straight."
"I'm glad he's someone you can talk to," Maura said, pouring the wine. With a teasing look she asked, "What did you tell him about me?"
"Oh gosh, um…I dunno," Jane mumbled, though she was still smiling. To her embarrassment, all she could remember telling Frost about were Maura's physical attributes. "I told him I met someone at CVS who took my breath away. That was the second night you and I met, actually. When I told him about you, I mean. Now that I think about it, it could've been him who answered that noise complaint."
Maura handed Jane a glass. "I'm glad it wasn't."
Was her tone sultry, or was Jane's imagination already going into hyperdrive? She took a hearty gulp of wine and tried pivoting the conversation away from herself. "Sooo, enough about me. How was class today?"
"Enlightening." She wanted to add something to the effect of "I had trouble concentrating, though, because I was thinking so much about tonight", but she paused for too long and Jane swooped in with another question in hopes of staving off awkward silence.
"We never got around to talking about why you're in med school. What kind of doctor do you want to be?"
"I hope this doesn't put you off too much, but my plan is to be a medical examiner."
"Why would that put me off?" Jane asked, puzzled.
"Well, my bedside manner leaves much to be desired. I believe I'd be best suited working on patients who are already dead." Maura took a long sip to steady her nerves, then had to work hard to mask her reaction to the poor wine. "When the body isn't alive, there's no pressure to do anything but the job. No patients or family to console, no fear or pain in the eyes while you problem solve …oh God, I must sound so cold," she muttered into her glass.
It took Jane a moment longer to respond than she'd have liked. "No, it doesn't sound cold! Hey, someone's gotta do it, it's important work. You bring closure to a lot of people that way, and that's not a cold thing at all. And hey! I'm aiming to get into homicide, so if you stay in Boston, maybe we'll work together someday!"
Maura had to smile at Jane's enthusiasm. "Detective, hm? Has a nice ring to it."
"Thanks, I think so! I mean, I hope so. My buddy Frost—the guy whose car I borrowed—he wants to get in there, too, but man he's gotta build up a tolerance for blood and guts and stuff first. Hey, do they ever allow visitors to your cadaver classes? Maybe being in there would help him get used to it."
"It sounds like you're joking, but immersion therapy does actually have a very high success rate," Maura said. "He should go down to the morgue to give that a go. It helped me a great deal, immersion therapy."
"Yeah? What were you afraid of?"
"People," Maura admitted, and Jane's expression softened. "I suppose it had to do with benignly neglectful parents, and rude schoolmates. I'm much better now than I used to be. I forced myself to go out, to be social. That's why I joined a sorority as an undergrad. I found my niche in time."
Jane took a thoughtful sip of wine. "Huh. Maybe I should try immersion therapy, like with all this gay stuff. Know any good lesbian mosh pits?"
Maura put down her glass and walked over to Jane's side of the table. "You don't need a mosh pit to immerse yourself in 'the gay,' Jane. I could recommend a good local club if you're interested, though."
All of a sudden it felt to Jane like she'd drunk way more than she really had. "Mm. Maybe. I kinda think I might need to work my way up to that, though. Any ideas on how I could start off?"
Her voice was pitched low out of quiet nerves, not as an attempt to sound sexy, but the effect was the same regardless. Maura bit her lip to keep herself from saying something like I can't wait to make your body feel as good as mine does when you talk like that.
"Some."
Jane's heart lodged itself in her throat when Maura oh so gently took hold of her waist and moved in closer. The ball was in Jane's court, she knew, but she remained speechless when she could not swallow her heart back down to its rightful place, and she was rendered immobile by the faint meadowy fragrance Maura was wearing and how smoothly she had slid into Jane's closely guarded personal space.
Maura sensed that Jane needed further prompting. "You won our race the other day. I assumed you didn't want to claim your prize then because we were in public, and I am totally sympathetic to that. Are you ready now?"
No smash cut, no script to follow: this was real life, it was really happening. Fear pricked at Jane, but it was being held at bay by desire—a pure, innocent desire to make good on this swooping sensation that started in her stomach and was barreling itself in all directions.
This all would've been fine and good if she hadn't forgotten she was still holding a wine glass. When Jane went to put her hands on Maura's waist, the glass knocked against the table and almost fell to the floor—but Jane's reflexes were quick; she stumbled to make sure she caught the glass, and was relieved that somehow none of the wine spilled in her clumsiness. So, she felt only moderately stupid until she straightened up and her head knocked into Maura's boobs. And then a timer in the kitchen went off, making Jane jump and almost sending the glass out of her hands.
Moment killed. A bloodbath. Remains of the moment all over the place. Multiple contusions. One suspect.
"Oh, now see, I almost timed that perfectly," Maura joked, trying to ease the tension. She went to the kitchen to turn off the timer, but stayed there more to give Jane a private moment to regroup than anything else.
"A closeted spaz," Jane mumbled, putting her glass safely on the table. "You sure you don't want to reconsider all that stud in shining armor stuff?"
"I might if you keep being so self-deprecating," came Maura's voice from the kitchen.
Jane winced. "Man. Can I start this date over? Oh, crap. Wait, geez, I actually left something in the car—"
To Maura's surprise, Jane bounded back outside without another word. She couldn't imagine what could possibly be so important to draw Jane away with such abruptness, and figured she might as well put the food out. Eating would give them something to do, which would hopefully ameliorate some of the awkwardness. But then Jane reappeared, having shed her jacket this time, and also holding a bouquet of dahlias. Jane faltered under Maura's stunned gaze, worried for a moment that the flowers might have been a huge misstep.
"I, um, I got these for you," Jane stammered, trying to stay calm and not thrust the flowers at her. "I hope that's not too lame or cheesy or anything. I was just walking by the flower shop and wanted to get you s-something."
Maura took the bouquet and inhaled, an un-fakeable smile covering her face. "It's not lame or cheesy. Nobody's ever gotten me flowers before, actually."
"What? Really? Not even that preppie guy at Stanford?"
"Not even the preppie guy at Stanford," Maura chuckled, returning to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in. "These are just beautiful, oh my goodness. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Thank you for dinner! Wow, this looks amazing…"
They swapped war stories about cooking as they started to eat—it was one of Maura's favorite things to do, and one of Jane's favorite things to watch on TV while she ate junk food. Maura got going about the elaborate dinner parties her parents used to throw, and while Jane wanted to be invested and listening, she struggled to focus. Not because Maura was boring; in fact, the opposite was the problem. Jane was afraid she'd missed her window to kiss her tonight. Maura had given her the perfect opportunity and she blew it. Would Maura be up for taking the initiative again? Jane couldn't help fearing that she herself would not have the courage to make that move, not after being such a klutz the first time around.
Eventually Maura noticed Jane's troubled expression, but she misinterpreted it and felt prompted to reissue a particular invitation. "Jane? Is there anything you'd like to ask me? I mean, since we're alone, and you don't have to worry about any passersby overhearing us? Anything about 'the gay stuff' as you might say?"
It took Jane a moment to realize Maura had been directly addressing her, and another moment to realize what she'd offered. "Oh. That's really nice of you, but I'm afraid I'd just ask you a bunch of really stupid, naïve, embarrassing stuff."
"I don't want to embarrass you," Maura said seriously. "But I can assure you that you don't need to worry about sounding naïve or stupid. Asking questions is how we learn, and I am very invested in helping you learn about this."
SMASH CUT TO: nothing, because Jane's mind is fried with the possibilities.
Meanwhile, it just registered with Maura how suggestive her comment could have sounded. "I'm sorry, I meant—that wasn't supposed to be a wink-wink thing. I mean, feel free to interpret it however you want, I guess," she added, only partly joking, "but I just meant it as an invitation to—"
"Ask you stuff, yeah," Jane said. "I mean, thank you, really. I'd like to take you up on it, I just don't know where to start."
What clothes do lesbians wear? What movies do they like? What kind of underwear do they like? How do you find other women like you? What music should I listen to? How many women have you slept with and what is it like? How does the sex actually work? What positions exist that I've never even heard of? How can you tell when a woman is gay? Do I give off any signs? What drinks do lesbians order? What do you think of the word queer? How should I feel about labels? When did your mom tell you she was bi, was it hard for her? Has she dated any women? Have you ever been in love?
Maura was ready to change the subject to make Jane more comfortable when Jane at last decided to ask something that seemed safe: "So like, you've had girlfriends before, then?"
"One, yes, at Stanford. I dated around quite a bit before I met her, though. We went out for a little over a year and a half. When I told her I was set on coming back east for med school, she thought it'd be best if we broke up because she had no intention of leaving California and I wasn't interested in pursuing something long-distance when I wasn't sure I'd go back." Maura shrugged. "We ended on pretty good terms, all things considered. I put myself out there again just for fun a few times before I moved out here."
Jane nodded, pushing food around on her plate and wishing she was hungrier. The types of questions coming to her now were not at all appropriate, even if Maura professed to be happy to answer anything. Eventually she asked, "So …I mean, you are so beautiful and smart and doing amazing stuff, I'm sure any woman would be thrilled to go out with you. Like, out women who know what all the letters in the acronym stand for, women who know how to date other women." She tried not to let insecurity pester her, but her voice got quieter all the same: "So why me? I mean, why are you… why do you have any interest in me?"
It didn't at all sound like a mere request for an ego boost, leading Maura to take her time considering her answer. "Well, I stand by the first thing I texted you, which was that I find you very sweet and very sexy. Diana—my ex—" (And this didn't help, because for Jane it conjured an image of the only Diana she knew, Wonder Woman, as her competition) "—would only consider dating women with her same level of experience, for lack of a better word. I can see why she'd want to do that, but it doesn't really fit for me. I can't help who I'm attracted to, and I'm very attracted to you."
This ought to have been a very encouraging response, so Jane wasn't sure why she still felt lost. Maybe more detail would've helped? She looked up when Maura gently said her name.
"You're over-thinking it. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but It's my impression that for years, you've done nothing but repress your impulses—impulses you now might consider more as instincts, ones to follow up on instead of hide. I don't see somebody scared or cheesy when I look at you. I see someone thoughtful and interesting. Someone ready to grow in to who she was born to be."
The calm deliberateness of Maura's tone was a greater affirmation than anything Jane had heard yet. She felt light-headed, buzzed, but not from the wine.
"You know," Jane murmured, starting to eat again, "I never really thought of myself as a very romantic person, because I wasn't into dating and boys the way my Ma wanted me to be. The way she kept telling me one day I would be." She sank into an imitation of her mother, the accuracy of it lost on Maura though she laughed anyway: "'Janie, someday you're gonna looove makeup! Someday you're gonna want all the boys looking at you! Someday you're gonna love dresses and getting your hair done!' But that day never came, and I kept feeling like more and more of a freak because of it. But sometimes I look back and I think, no, I really was a romantic all along, I just didn't know it because I couldn't show it the way I wanted to."
"So how do you qualify that?"
Jane shrugged. "I dunno, some of it is innocent, ignorant stuff when I was a kid, like the crush on my teacher I told you about. I guess I was kind of a teacher's pet in elementary school, if the teacher was a woman and young and nice and pretty," she added, though it felt kind of shallow to say. "It wasn't about wanting the teacher to think I was a good student, though. I mean it was, but it was more than that. I wanted her to be impressed with me. And I'd do stuff for my friends, too, girl friends. I didn't have very many of them, especially after middle school, but I always wanted to go the extra mile for them. I never thought it was weird at the time, because of course you're gonna be nice to your friends, but looking back I'm pretty sure it was that feeling of wanting them to be impressed. Something to make me stand out a little bit more from their other friends. The big thing would be movies, though."
Maura looked surprised. "You've seen gay movies?"
"Oh, God no!" Jane laughed. "No way. The closest I ever got to that was watching some teen comedy with my aunt and cousins, and my aunt skipped a scene where two of the girls almost kissed—not 'cause they were gay, but just 'cause one was teaching the other one how to kiss. My cousin told me afterwards that's why we skipped it. I guess all the other sex stuff was okay, like the jokes and whatever, but that'd be crossing the line."
"Oh, dear…"
"Yeah. No, what I meant was just that I like action movies and stuff, but even when I was a kid, I would always be excited for the kiss. I pretended to be grossed out or annoyed, like my brothers, but I always loved it. Sometimes," she admitted with a laugh, "I'd even go back and watch the kissing scene again after everyone else had gone to bed. It's kind of embarrassing, I know. I guess at the time I was embarrassed because it made me feel girly, and I didn't wanna be girly. But, like …I think it's more that I just really wanted that. I really craved it. I really wanted to get kissed and feel the way I felt just watching good kisses in the movies, y'know? But that never happened. Still hasn't happened."
Maura felt like she'd been an issued a challenge, but she was up to the task. She smiled at Jane, hoping to allay some of her self-consciousness. "Any particular clichés you liked?"
It was good to see Jane smiling again. "Hmm, let's see. Well, kissing in the rain, obviously. Reconciliation kisses. First kisses."
"I agree, first kisses are nice," Maura said with a coy smile. Jane blushed, but still looked pleased. "I always liked the kisses in movies where someone—it's hard to describe. Not quite a fake-out, but you think they're about to kiss and then something interrupts them, or one loses their nerve, and so they have to come back to it later and that makes the kiss spontaneous. Yeah, spontaneous kisses, that's what I'd call them. As long as it's clear both parties are into it, of course."
And there came Jane feeling like she'd been an issued a challenge. The irony of it was that Maura was not at all intending to pressure Jane; those really were just her favorite kind of scripted kisses to see. Jane felt like she'd all but added "hint, hint" at the end there while Maura was blissfully unaware of the impact she had made. She went on to recommend some of her favorite lesbian movies for Jane to watch, leaving Jane to wish she could concentrate on the conversation much more. Right now her main concern was getting food in her mouth without dropping any on her plate while also checking all of her inner reserves for courage to kiss Maura—and to figure out when.
Would it be too spontaneous if I flipped the table over to get to her and just kissed her right now? Yeah, probably…
To take the pressure off of engaging too much, she asked Maura more about herself. This was a good distraction for a few reasons: Jane got the impression that Maura didn't get much opportunity to talk about things like her childhood. She liked hearing about people's youths because it informed so much of who they became, and Jane had always been curious about people. This person in particular was fascinating. Considering the neglect that had dotted Maura's childhood, it seemed amazing that she had turned out so kind and cheerful.
Maura batted back with more questions about Jane's line of work (figuring it seemed safer than delving into family matters), and the conversation got them through dinner and dessert. She supposed dessert would have been a good opportunity to suggest moving to the couch for a somewhat more informal setting, but she'd been too engrossed hearing about the police academy to have the presence of mind for the idea until the optimal moment had passed.
That discontent did not linger, however, because it felt so nice to just sit and talk with someone like this. Neither of them could remember someone who had made them lose track of time like this, and Jane was astounded to glance at the clock and realize it was almost midnight.
"Didn't you say you had an early class? I should really get going."
"No, you don't have to," Maura said, attempting to stifle a poorly-timed yawn.
Jane smiled, knowing by now that Maura was not disingenuous in her remark. "In theory I'd like to stay way longer, but I'd hate to leave you anything but well-rested for class. I'm sure you need all your wits about you for med school at BCU." In an effort to prolong the evening, though, she did ask, "Can I stay and help you clean up, though?"
Maura's mother would have told her it was extremely rude to expect guests to help with such a task, but Maura was delighted to take her up on it. Jane washed dishes and Maura dried them, and as they continued to talk and laugh, Jane thought maybe the kitchen would be a good place for another try at that kiss. Nothing could possibly happen that would be more awkward than accidentally head-butting the girl's boobs, right?
It was the night Jane learned not to tempt fate.
Maura handed Jane a dish towel to dry her hands once they were finished. "Thanks for a great evening," Jane murmured. "I really had a nice time."
"Me too," Maura said. "Do you think we could get lunch or something later this week?"
"I'd love that, doc," Jane replied with so much sincerity it made Maura beam. "Hey, you know what I just realized? I don't know your last name."
"Oh," Maura laughed. "It's Isles."
"Maura Isles. Wow. I know this is a cliché line, but that's a really beautiful name."
"Mm, it's more of a cliché pick-up line, I think," Maura said, taking the towel from Jane's hands and laying it on the counter behind Jane. This brought them only a few inches apart, a fact Maura hoped Jane would take full advantage of. "You've already got me, officer. You don't need a line."
There was the wind-up and the pitch: time to connect with the ball. Jane willed her hand not to tremble as she raised it to cup Maura's face—but then her peripheral vision caught sight of a dinosaur.
"WHAT the hell?!" She jumped and instinctively pushed Maura behind her, then realized she was staring down some kind of reptile. "What the—how—what is that, and how did it get in your house?!"
Looking pained, Maura stepped out from behind Jane and went to crouch by her pet. "Shh, you'll scare him."
"I'll scare—?! What? What even is he?"
"This is Bass. I've had him since he was small enough to fit in my hand. I'm sorry he startled you," she said, straightening up and indeed looking very apologetic. "He's a wonderful pet, very quiet and he doesn't ask for much. And, ah," she sighed. "I forgot to check on his food when I got home. He likes British strawberries, would you like to feed him one?"
Jane eyed the creature warily. She knew it was too slow an animal to be able to inflict any sort of harm, but she found him much more menacing looking than Maura did. Furthermore, her humiliation at overreacting and ruining yet another golden opportunity for a kiss was excruciating and too much to endure. "Uh, y'know, I think turtle-feeding is more of a second or third date thing. I think I'd better go."
She was out of the kitchen before Maura could the terminology. "Jane, wait, you don't have t—"
Jane was already by the door. "Nah, it's okay, it's crazy late! Thanks again for dinner, it was great. I'll text you tomorrow!"
Texting would afford her the opportunity to take time to compose an apology for her clumsiness tonight, and so she left before she could make more of an ass of herself—but she'd barely made it past Maura's front steps before realizing she'd already done so: it was quite cold outside and she'd left her jacket hanging by Maura's door. She was trying to decide whether it would be more embarrassing to go back in for it or to mention it in a text tomorrow, and was leaning towards the latter option when she heard the door open behind her.
And then, in what didn't even feel like a conscious decision, Jane found herself turning on her heel and hurrying back up the steps.
Maura was standing in the doorway, holding Jane's jacket. "You forgot your—"
Jane took Maura's face in her hands and kissed her.
In an instant, Jane's jacket was dropped to the porch and Maura's arms slipped around Jane's neck. Jane felt like she was somehow tripping while standing up straight; she needed to steady herself, and did so by moving one hand to Maura's waist and the other to the door, pressing Maura to the door and herself against Maura without breaking the kiss.
When kissing Maura had only been an idea, Jane had wanted to catalogue everything she felt, but again theory was proving much more feasible than practice: Maura's touch somehow seemed to be everywhere, and Jane found herself affected by things she hadn't even thought to fantasize about, like that whimper of a moan eking out from the back of Maura's throat. She felt heady.
Jane broke off the kiss with a shuddering sigh. "Holy shit."
Maura bit her lip, her arms still around Jane's neck, breathing heavy. "Jane?"
Jane's eyes met hers, and a slow smile appeared. "Better than the movies."