The sunlight was fighting through a dreary covering of darkened clouds on that particular Sunday afternoon. Maura hoped silently that just this once, Boston's weather would do as she wished and give her a pleasant day.
Not that Maura was freaking out. It wasn't like this was her first attempt at a date with her best friend or anything. Not like the outcome of this one evening could set a precedent for many evenings to come.
Oh wait. That's exactly what that was. She'd already changed outfits five times, unable to decide what she should wear to this particular first date venue. She knew what Jane would wear: jeans, boots, and one of her Red Sox jerseys.
She had a Red Sox jersey, had purchased one for just this occasion, but she couldn't help wondering if it was a bad idea. Jane was loyal to the Red Sox, possibly to a fault, and what if Maura (a non-supporter of almost all sports and teams) wearing a jersey was, like, sacrilege or something?
Normally when she's stressed out before a date, she calls her best friend... so what's the protocol when calling your best friend isn't an option?
"Okay," Maura said to herself before taking a calming breath. She filed away her stress for the moment and pushed thoughts of indecision from her mind.
Compartmentalizing always made decisions easier.
She picked the detective up on schedule, the two of them matching in Red Sox style. Jane had even complimented her jersey and her ability to dress almost casually.
Maura had beamed with pride.
It was the bottom of the ninth, tie score, and the Sox had runners on first and second. Two outs. That is the kind of sports-flavoured anticipation Maura loved best. Why? Because her detective was beyond sexy when she was so emotionally invested in her favourite American past-time.
Maura silently congratulated herself on picking a first date that allowed them to be comfortable and at ease with each other instead of awkward and embarrassed.
Yeah, Maura knew what was up.
She'd been concentrating too much on Jane's facial expressions. The loud crack of a bat and baseball colliding startled her out of her thoughts. The ball sailed through the air and Jane jumped to her feet, pulling Maura with her.
Home run.
The grin that spilled across Jane's face almost made the medical examiner's lungs stop breathing. What happened next actually did.
One second they're sending impossibly wide, toothy grins toward each other, and the next Jane's lips have pressed against hers while the world goes strangely silent around her.
It's a chaste kiss, refuses to linger, but then their faces are on the screen and everyone around them is calling for another. Jane's blush is too adorable for words.
This time Maura takes the initiative and wraps her arms around Jane's neck, pulling her closer. The kiss is nowhere near as innocent as the first, but the whistles and cat-calls are easily ignored.
A while away, three sets of eyes were glued to a big screen tv and a plate had just experienced the misfortune of crashing to the floor.
"About damn time," Frankie snorted, pulling out his phone to call Korsak about his winnings.