Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Are you kiddin' me?"

Detective Frost stared at Frankie, who was dribbling beer out of the corner of his mouth and onto his navy blue BPD t-shirt. Frost raised his eyebrows.

Frankie looked down at his shirt and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Are you... kiddin' me," he repeated to himself, and this time it was just about the beer, rather than the reason he had spit it out in the first place.

Which was that Frost thought his sister had been the one to crack the Code Killer's cipher. Frankie knew Jane was capable but Dr. Isles was right there, surely it had to be obvious who had done the nerdy legwork on this.

"I don't think your beer is kidding you, and I'm really not, either. I think Jane could've done it."

"Oh, yeah, maybe she could've if she had no other choice, Janie's good in those situations. But there's no way she figured it out faster than Maura would. I don't think it was her."

Frost shrugged and turned his own beer on its cardboard coaster, then looked up at Frankie where he stood hovering at the end of the booth. "I do."

Frankie scoffed. "A'right, wanna bet? Ten bucks says Jane didn't crack that code."

"Twenty says she did."

Frankie let out a whistle that rolled smoothly into a chuckle. "Okay, twenty. You're on. You want in, Sarge?" Frankie turned to Korsak, who sat on the other side of the table and had kept out of the conversation thus far, preferring to observe the young bucks at play.

"Nah, you two have fun pissin' Jane off. Oh, look who it is."

At that moment a whoosh of frosty air from the door announced the arrival of the detective in question as well as the ME.

"What are you lookin' at?" gruffed Jane, dropping into the booth next to where her brother stood. Maura followed, primly taking the seat across from Jane.

Frankie threw his hands up in offense, what beer remained in his glass threatening to spill out at the jerky movement. "What, a little brother can't be happy to see his sister after a hard day's work?"

Jane looked at him like he'd sprouted an extra head. "It's not something that little brother's ever done before, so pardon my surprise. What are you playing at?"

Frost cut in then with a hand on his fellow detective's arm. "He's not playing at anything. What's got your back up, partner?"

Jane's nostrils flared.

"I have," came the unexpected answer from Maura's corner of the table. "We were having a slightly heated discussion about traffic laws on the way over from where we parked."

"It wasn't red," grumbled Jane.

"It was, and there's a line between being in a hurry and abuse of power," replied Maura, her tone clipped.

"Jesus, seriously? You gonna report me or somethin'?"

"If I had any faith it might teach you a lesson, I would."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't think we need to do all that," Frost said, hoping to interrupt a descent into cattiness. "Say, uh, we heard the Code Killer was apprehended. Somebody cracked the code?"

Jane rolled her eyes, all the fight leaving her in an instant. It was replaced by a quick appraisal of the men around her, and then wry disappointment. "You guys have a bet, don't you." Korsak chuckled into his beer. Jane wheeled on him. "You in on it?"

"I'm not," Korsak deadpanned. "I swear, I'm not." He raised his hands in surrender.

Jane narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything else.

Maura shuffled back to the end of the booth and stood up, smoothing out her dress—tight and burgundy and elegant, not that Jane noticed. "I'm going to get us drinks. Gentlemen, would any of you like another round?" she offered amiably. All three men shook their heads.

"Would you mind grabbing me a—"

"—Blue Moon, yes, I know, Jane."

Jane flushed slightly. "Uh, thanks."

Maura pressed her lips into a tight but civil smile and made for the bar.

Jane watched her go, then realized she was watching and wrenched her head back around to her tablemates, assessing. "You guys are wondering who cracked the code, huh?" she asked. It had been her; the code had been a cipher made using each day's Boston Globe box scores. She had figured it out with the help of a book on codebreaking Maura had gotten her for Christmas.

Frost looked as though he was going to deny it, but instead he exhaled and gave a low "Yeah," his anticipation audible in the single syllable. Frankie took half a step closer.

A possible outcome to the conversation presented itself in Jane's mind. She could tell them, honestly, that she had been the one to discover the cipher; they wouldn't believe her. Maura would come back over and they'd ask her, knowing she could only tell them the truth. She'd have to tell them it was Jane; whoever had bet against Jane (on Maura) would exaggerate their disbelief and then half-heartedly concede and hand over the money to the other; whoever bet on her would congratulate her, might get her a drink or something; Maura would be humbled and go quiet and wouldn't bring up the red light thing again. All-around win.

For some reason—Jane wouldn't have been able to say why if asked—her eyes wandered to the bar, where Maura was picking up her Pinot Noir in one hand and Jane's pint of Blue Moon in the other. She said something to the bartender, who smiled and bent his head before going back to washing some glasses. Maura turned away from the bar and started walking back toward their table, Jane imagining she could hear the soft click of her heels from across the room, even through the worn bar carpet. Her mouth was dry.

"Wakey, wakey," teased Frankie.

Jane dropped her gaze to the sticky formica of the tabletop. She cleared her throat. "Does it matter who solved it? Do you guys always have to be such kids? Drink your beer."

Jane's jaw hung open as she pushed the door to Maura's Beacon Hill home shut behind her. "What the hell is goin' on in here?"

Maura's living room was nearly unrecognizable: furniture had been moved around, what looked like reams of printouts were strewn all over the coffee table and floor, and the couch was covered in... yarn?

Maura turned around from where she'd been unloading the dishwasher to address Jane. "Your mother has gotten into crochet." Her tone didn't necessarily suggest she was excited about the fact, but it didn't announce discomfort either, exactly.

Jane grimaced. "Deep into the—" she strode over to the coffee table and picked up a ball of thick blue and purple yarn. "—'Premium Poly-Wool' weeds of it, apparently. You're okay with this?"

"Well, we have often thought she could use a hobby," mused Maura.

Jane pursed her lips. "Not one where she takes over your entire living room. Seriously, Maura, I can ask her to cut it out."

Maura sighed. "She's right that the light is better in here than in most of the guest house. And it's not like I have nowhere to go. It's a big house." She shrugged, apparently resigned to making the best of it.

Jane didn't think there was a 'best' to be made of this particular situation. "Yeah, but it's your house! You don't have to put up with this," she insisted, making a pile of several bundles of yarn so that she could pick them all up at once; to take them where, she wasn't sure.

Jane paused her movement as her yarn excavation project revealed the piece Angela had started. "What's she making, anyway?" she wondered aloud. Maura smiled privately at how easily the detective's curiosity won out over her focus on most tasks.

She wiped her hands on the dish towel and walked over to join Jane. "According to the pattern, it looks like it's going to be a scarf," Maura surmised, holding up one of the myriad printouts spread like a blanket of autumn leaves over and around the coffee table. This one was on top and a bit to the side of the bulk of them, and had several notes in the margins in Angela's looping, slanted hand.

Jane held up the project and inspected it. It was about three inches long, and generally five or so wide, despite some unevenness. "Why is it uranium green," she muttered. It was worded like a question but delivered like a statement.

"I couldn't tell you," admitted Maura airily. "But don't you think this might be good for her? She's already showing progress since she started a few hours ago, look." Maura took the odd little bright green rectangle from Jane and pointed to parts of it. "The first few lines are less even, and then these more recent rows are... cleaner."

Jane snorted. "'Cleaner', sure. Like the difference between a dockyard dumpster and a park trash can."

Maura gasped, though she couldn't prevent it from turning into a cute giggle. "Jane! Show a little more grace, she's trying something new. Besides, I think it might be interesting to see where this goes. The first scarf she makes will be far from perfect, of course, but she'll improve," she added, gently replacing Angela's nascent project on the couch cushion where it had been. "And you strong-arming her doesn't tend to go well, you know that."

Jane balked. "Strong-arming?"

"Oh come on, Jane," Maura chided. "Don't pretend you don't—"

"Found it!"

Their incipient argument was cut short by Angela bursting in, triumphantly waving her phone. "It was behind the toaster, go figure. But now I can take pictures to show Carla!" She grinned. "Oh, Jane, you're here. Hey, what are you doing with my yarn?" she demanded with alarm.

"Geez, great to see you too, Ma."

Angela puffed out her chest in offense. "That yarn was organized by grade and the type of project I could use each kind for. You just messed up twenty minutes of work I did!" she accused. "I see your mouth opening like you're about to say words to me, missy, and all I gotta say is they better be an apology."

Jane's mouth closed, then opened again, then closed once more. The truth was, the words in her mouth were not going to form an apology; that was not the plan. But just then Maura fixed her with such a look that she paused, and chewed on them a little, and managed to produce a sufficiently contrite, "Sorry, Ma." Angela was right: she hadn't given a second thought to how the yarn had been laid out before gathering it all up. It felt strange to admit, though. Maura was still looking at her, and for some reason that made Jane's heartbeat pick up, which was also strange. Or something.

Angela narrowed her eyes at her daughter. She had expected resistance and did not trust its absence.

Jane took exception. "What, I said sorry! Tell us about what you're making or whatever," she groused, feeling a bit more herself.

Angela made eye contact with Maura as if to say 'can you believe her' before turning to the couch to pick up her bright green work-in-progress. "I'm crocheting your little brother a scarf," she announced with no small amount of pride. "He's got that construction job now, you know, and it's gettin' cold out there so I thought—"

"—you better drape a glow-worm 'round his neck?" challenged Jane with a scrappy smirk.

Despite the physical impossibility, Maura thought for a moment she could see smoke coming out of Angela's ears. "It's hi-vis! So he stays warm and he doesn't get run over by a bulldozer!" the Rizzoli matriarch bellowed.

Jane bit down on both her lips to keep from laughing at her mother's outburst. Maura gave her another pointed look and Jane instinctually raised her hands, signaling she was backing off.

Angela, still upset and seeing she had the advantage, pressed on. "I know I just started, but I think he'll like it. Maura, honey, don't you think this scarf is gonna look great once I get it a little longer?"

The first scarf she makes will be far from perfect, of course. That's what Maura had said. The next few moments flashed before Jane's eyes: Maura would bumble through trying to obscure her very blunt assessment of the neon proto-scarf, Angela would be mortally embarrassed and probably give up crochet forever, and Jane (and Maura) would never have to deal with yarn covering Maura's living room ever again.

But don't you think this might be good for her? and I think it might be interesting to see where this goes were also things Maura had said.

Jane huffed to herself during the half second in which Angela's question hung in the air. She spotted a small container of safety pins right near the edge of the coffee table, sitting open. She moved to put down her armful of yarn then, intentionally stumbling and knocking the safety pins. The container fell off the table and scattered pins all over the living room floor, drawing the attention of the other two women in the room.

"Do you always have to be such a klutz, Janie?" asked Angela, exasperated.

Jane looked up from where she was gathering fallen pins. "I'm sorry, Ma." Her expression was tender, her eyes soft around the edges. "And hey, I'm sure Tommy'll appreciate the effort you put in for him."

Angela's face crumpled with emotion as she knelt next to Jane to help pick up pins. "Thanks, hon," she mumbled, pleased.

Maura joined the pin-collecting effort a moment later; the look she flashed Jane this time was unmistakably warm.

Jane could feel a headache coming on. She'd only gotten to the sixth name on a list of community paint night attendees whose phone numbers she had to cross-reference in the Yellow Pages, but she couldn't stop thinking about Maura. Or, more specifically, she couldn't stop thinking about what Maura had asked her to do the day before.

Yesterday afternoon, Jane had gotten a text from Maura asking for assistance in her office, "urgently". Jane had arrived to see the office blinds closed, and Maura had handed her a pink bottle of calamine lotion as soon as she'd shut the door...

Jane noticed Maura's blouse was unbuttoned, held closed. Over the collar and through the gaps, though, Jane could see that Maura's neck and chest were covered in a substance that matched the pink of the bottle that had just been put in her hand.

"I got what I could but I can feel it on my back in places I can't reach," Maura explained without explaining, turning her back to Jane and pulling her cascade of gold hair over one shoulder. "Would you mind?"

Jane blinked. "Uh, yeah, one sec. Wait, what? What's going on?" Before she could get the sentence all the way out, Maura had taken off her blouse, revealing the milky expanse of her back marred with—ah. Hives. "What did you lie about? And why?"

"The cotton pads are on my desk, next to my bra," said Maura calmly, deflecting. "Please hurry, it's extremely uncomfortable and it may still be spreading. I took an antihistamine but that likely won't take effect for nearly an hour. I am going to explain but if you could please—thank you," she breathed, as Jane applied a calamine-laden pad to her back, right between her shoulder blades.

"Man, it's got you good," muttered Jane as she worked, picking up the bottle again for more lotion. "There. Now, you wanna talk to me?"

Maura did not turn around as Jane expected her to. Then Jane remembered the whole—toplessness, thing, and bit her tongue.

"It has to dry," said Maura, her back still to Jane. "It won't take long though. Separately, I assume your mother has told you what she's planning?"

Jane fidgeted with the cap of the lotion bottle because she wanted to touch Maura again. Huh. "Frankie's surprise birthday party? Yeah. She rope you in, too?"

Maura nodded, reaching for her bra. "She's asked to do it at the house, and I don't see why we shouldn't. What's she got you doing?"

Once she'd put down the lotion, Jane shoved her hands in her pockets. Maura still didn't have a top on and her bare, lotioned back was still turned to Jane. "Uh, I need to source a cake. Ideally white chocolate and strawberry, but anything with strawberries'll work if I know my brother. Which I do, and so I know that he likes surprises about as much as I do, which is not at all, and I tried to tell Ma that but here we are."

Maura tutted as she pulled her blouse around her shoulders and started to button it. "I think it'll be fun," she said, turning around with her blouse still half done up. Jane felt like she was swallowing glass, but in a good way. "For all of you, I mean. With your father turning tail, you need every excuse you can get to spend positive family time together and with community that supports you."

Jane smirked. "Positive family time, huh? I agree, but I don't know if it has to be a surprise."

"Jane," Maura began in a dark, honeyed tone. She wasn't doing that on purpose, was she? "You know perfectly well that if we openly offered to Frankie to throw him a party, he would refuse with characteristic self-effacing Rizzoli bluster. This is the only chance we have to celebrate him the way he deserves."

Jane shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right."

A sly glint appeared in Maura's eye. "Besides, isn't it kind of fun to keep the preparations a secret? I sort of enjoy the thrill of doing things so that he can't tell what's going on right under his nose, don't you?"

Jane just stared at Maura, looking unimpressed. "No, I really don't," she drawled. "Wait, what does this have to do with your hives?"

Maura finished buttoning her blouse and looked up. "Right. Well. Frankie came down here earlier on his way to the garage and he asked me, point blank, whether there was a surprise birthday party being planned for him."

Jane puffed out an exhale. "Yeah, that'll do it. You really wanna do this for him, huh?" she asked, a smile sneaking its way onto her face. Maura was truly adorable sometimes.

"Well, your mother is the one who really wants to do it for him, but I do want to help," replied Maura, the look in her olive wood eyes genuine. It made Jane feel woozy. "Would you mind opening the blinds for me?" Maura asked then, taking a seat at her desk and making to return to whatever she had been doing earlier, before Jane's brother forced her into a lie and all the associated trouble. Jane saw her reach into the bottom drawer where she kept emergency accessories and pull out a scarf. Maura then looked up at Jane quizzically and asked, "please?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," said Jane, moving to the furthest window and making her way around, focusing on the sensation of twisting each rod and pulling each cord to ground herself. Why did she need grounding?

Jane dropped the front half of the phonebook onto the back half, closing it with a satisfying thump. She pushed her tongue into her cheek, pensive. For real, why did I need grounding?

"I'm gonna get coffee," she announced to the bullpen, louder than necessary. Frost did not react, just went on typing away, and Korsak gave her an absent-minded nod. She pushed her chair back from her desk and stood, then stalked out of Homicide and down the hall.

In the elevator, Jane's mind wandered again to Maura's display of loyalty to her family from the day before. That's what it had been, really; Maura had chosen to endure discomfort for the sake of the Rizzolis' good time, because she wanted to support them. Because she wanted to support Jane, whose hero and role model had just made one of the worst mistakes a person could make and then left them all behind. Even though Jane herself wouldn't have asked Maura to endure that discomfort for them by lying about the party, exactly. Frankly she would rather not have to do all this sneaking around at all. But it was still... 'touching' didn't feel like quite the right word.

It should. That should be how it made Jane feel. But instead there was this... other... warmth.

Her feelings might have had to do with Maura's toplessness. That might have been part of it; Jane had touched Maura's skin, skin she rarely got to see—let alone acknowledge seeing, even if it was because she was administering medical care. And then the way Maura had turned around with her blouse only done up to a bit above her navel, and the way her breasts had looked—

The doors to the elevator opened and Jane put her thoughts of Maura away. Yeah, that all probably contributed to the warm feeling. She wanted to think about the whole thing a bit more, but not when she was headed into the precinct café. Where her mother was.

"Janie! What can I getcha?" Angela cheerily called the instant Jane was in her sight line.

"Whaddaya think, Ma?" Jane gruffed in reply, but she cracked a smile. "Just a coffee."

Angela nodded with resolve, as if she had been tasked with some grand mission. "Comin' right up."

"Thanks."

As she flipped on the machine, Angela cast a glance around to check if they were alone which, unusually, they were. "Did you find a cake?" she stage-whispered.

Jane sighed, then accepted that the conversation was happening, even though she told herself she would have preferred to be going through the phone book. "Nah, not yet. Crema's gotten all fancy-schmancy so they don't have anything with strawberries at the moment 'cause they're 'not in season locally' or whatever," said Jane, her tone becoming mocking as she repeated the words of the baker she'd spoken to on the phone over lunch.

Angela wrinkled her nose. "You gonna try—"

"—Lito's next, yeah." Jane hurried the conversation along as she noticed her cup was nearly ready. "Thanks for the coffee, Ma," she said as she took it out of Angela's hand. She added a packet of sugar, barely stirred it in before putting the lid back on, exited the café while giving her mother a quick wave, and almost ran directly into Dr. Maura Isles.

"Shit, sorry, didn't see you there," said Jane quickly, recovering. "You okay?" She meant to check the areas where Maura's hives had appeared the day before, but realized her eyes were lingering on the Chief Medical Examiner's chest as they stood in the middle of the very public precinct lobby. By the time she managed to wrench her gaze back up to Maura's face, there was an amused smile on it.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Maura said, finding herself enjoying the way Jane almost squirmed. "It cleared up shortly after the antihistamine kicked in."

Jane swallowed and did not look down again. "G-good."

Things might have become awkward at that moment had Frankie not jogged up, his brows drawn together. "I know I already asked yesterday, but I have to ask again because Tommy just texted me to say AJ Russo is single again and how would he know that if he hadn't been to Mr. Russo's party supply store?" The tone of his voice pitched up sharply with the question and his frustration. "So I ask again: are you guys planning a surprise party for me?" He crossed his hands over his belt buckle and squared his shoulders. For a second Jane was almost intimidated.

She considered. If they just fessed up, Frankie would know about the party and it wouldn't have to be a surprise and they wouldn't have to keep this dumb secret anymore. They could just plan things normally, like Jane preferred. All she'd have to do was make Maura answer the question, and then keep Frankie around for long enough to see the hives appear. She could help Maura with the calamine again, even.

But even as that thought came to her another crowded it out: how sincere and sweet Maura had looked as she talked about wanting to be part of doing this thing for Frankie.

Jane crossed her arms and looked her little brother right in the eyes, mirroring his posture. "How could Tommy have known, really? Ever heard of Facebook, you dork?"

Frankie gaped. "I, uh—right. Thanks," he muttered, turning away in embarrassment.

“You should be ashamed of yourself by the way,” Jane called after him, “using my friend as a lie detector test like that.” She glared at her brother across the lobby and he shrank away, sufficiently chastened.

"Thank you," whispered Maura once Frankie was out of earshot. Jane was still mean-mugging Frankie's back. Maura suppressed a shiver before speaking again. "I really didn't want to go through all of the trouble and treatment a second time in as many days."

Jane felt that earlier warmth rise up in her again and knew her cheeks were red. She met Maura's eyes and grinned. "You're welcome."

Jane downshifted as she pulled up to a light and let out a sigh.

It was something like relief; she'd ended a long workday with an almost 30-minute stalk and chase of a perp through Chinatown, on foot. She'd ended up tackling and pinning the guy on the sidewalk. Needless to say, she was feeling the day in her bones.

But now she was on the way to Maura's for the evening. She had a passenger seat full of food from Alagao, the mid-budget Filipino place she and Maura were able to agree on last time, and she was looking forward to slumping down on the couch while Maura filled the room with incomprehensible but pleasant science chatter. She had enough food for two, partly because she was hungry and partly because no matter how much Maura may protest that she'd already eaten, she would have some. Jane smiled at the thought.

The smile was still on her face as she balanced the bag of food in one hand and unlocked Maura's door with her key in the other. "I brought lumpia, including some of the veggie-only ones even though I'm still pretty sure they're just regular spring rolls at that point," she called as she pushed through the door—

Maura was sitting in one of the living room armchairs, which wasn't alarming at all. Across from her on the couch sat Constance Isles, which was.

The pair had their legs crossed the same way, each sipping sherry from a cut crystal glass. At Jane's words they looked up; Jane would've sworn they both blinked in surprise at the same time.

"Uh," said Jane.

Maura seemed to shake off a stupor. "Jane, ah, I didn't realize you were coming by."

"Course you didn't, I didn't say I would," Jane rushed out. Of course it wasn't the first time she had shown up unannounced, but there hadn't been any problem with that before. Maura had always been available to her. It struck Jane that it was strange that nothing like this had ever happened in all the time they'd been friends. "I'll uh, I'll just—"

"Oh, nonsense," said Constance, flapping her hand as if to dismiss the idea of Jane leaving. "Maura, dear, I'll get out of your hair. Thank you for this little impromptu, it was lovely. I shall ask Noel to bring the car around and be on my way. I wouldn't dream of getting in the middle of your evening," she cooed.

Jane was perplexed. "Uh, you don't—it's—you don't have to do that."

"Mother, it's really—I'm sure Jane wouldn't mind if you stayed to at least finish your nightcap," added Maura, her brow furrowed.

"Hush, both of you. Detective, I can tell you have been looking forward to coming home from work and spending time with my daughter, and now that you are here I refuse to spoil it by hanging around like a spare tyre. And Maura, really, didn't I bring you up to be honest about what you want?" Constance cocked her head slightly at her daughter to underscore her point. She rose then, delicately depositing her sherry glass on a coaster and turning toward the door.

Jane met Maura's eyes over Constance's shoulder, willing her gaze to convey that if Maura was upset by her mother's exit, she would do everything she could to stop her leaving.

Maura understood Jane's intention and was touched by it—something inside her always perked up when Jane indicated the lengths she would willingly go to ensure her well-being—but inclined her head to indicate that Jane should stand down and let Constance go.

Jane shrugged, still for only Maura to see, then stepped aside for Constance to gather up her purse and coat. "Alright, well. See you 'round, Constance."

She was met with the pursed-lipped but polite smile Constance often used with her. "Likewise, Jane. Darling, I'll call you on Tuesday like we discussed." This last she directed behind her at Maura as she looped a pashmina scarf around her neck.

"I look forward to it. Goodnight, Mother," said Maura, still somewhat bewildered.

With one last flourish of a wave, Constance was gone. The two of them were alone.

Jane jerked forward as if moving through a dream. That had been weird, right? It felt weird. Constance had acted like—but no. There was no reason for her to think that. Was there?

She focused on placing the bag of takeout at the end of the coffee table, then grabbed the sherry glasses while Maura capped the bottle and returned it to the liquor cabinet.

"Mother called just after four this afternoon suggesting dinner this evening, and since you and I didn't have any established plans, I assumed that would be alright," Maura said, sounding contrite. "I'm sorry."

Jane stood up abruptly from where she'd been rummaging for a beer, nearly smacking her head on the inside of the fridge. "What? No, no no no no, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything I should be apologizing for barging in here like I—well, like we talked about it, for starters." She rubbed at the back of her neck, the imploring amber shine of Maura's eyes killing her a little. "'Cause we didn't. And I shouldn't have assumed. And I'm sorry. We knew your mom was in town and we talked about you being on standby and I shouldn't have just shown up here like I'm entitled to—like it's—" she gestured agitatedly— "you know," she finished lamely, turning back to the fridge to actually retrieve her Peroni.

Maura shut her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose. She felt silly for not telling Jane about her last-minute plans with Constance, and she liked that Jane coming over in the evening had become their default. She liked it very much, in fact; she didn't want Jane to think it was some sort of fluke that it happened that way most nights, or that she only had Jane over because she didn't have anything else to do or anyone else to do it with. She wanted Jane to feel entitled to—the things she had meant, just now. Of course, she was also aware that she hadn't ever said any of that out loud. She let the breath back out. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jane asked as she rose from the fridge and knocked her beer on the counter to open it, stooping again to pick up the bottle cap as it rolled along the floor.

Maura nodded. "Okay. I accept your premise, and your apology." She smiled, dimples showing. "But I'm also glad you're here."

Jane stuck her head out from the cabinet she'd opened to retrieve a plate. "That bad, huh?" she asked, tossing her head in the direction of the door Constance had left through moments ago.

Maura shook her head as she started to wash the delicate crystal glasses. "No, not that bad at all," she paused and looked up at Jane, who was gazing back at her quizzically, "but I like your company."

Jane's features formed a relieved grin. "I'm glad it's improving between you."

"Mm," Maura agreed, vaguely. It was not the part of her declaration that she had been hoping Jane would pay the most attention to. She squeezed fragrance-free dish soap out of the sponge a hair more forcefully than necessary to drain it. "Would it be okay if we didn't talk about her anymore this evening? It's just that there's not much to tell, and—well, like I said, I like that you're here now."

Jane blinked. "Oh," she croaked, glancing up from where she was pulling take out boxes from their plastic bag, "uh, yeah. I'm—I'm glad I'm here. Too. I mean—"

"I think I know what you mean," Maura chuckled softly. She took in the look in Jane's warm brown eyes and felt a flood of affection suffuse her.

Leaving the glasses on the dish rack to dry, she went back over to the living room. Jane sat on the edge of a couch cushion shoveling pancit noodles by the forkful onto a plate already loaded with chicken adobo and lumpia.

Maura began to sit down in one of the armchairs while looking at the spot next to Jane on the couch. She hesitated mid-movement. Nothing was stopping her from going over to sit next to Jane. It was her house; she could sit wherever she wanted. So what if she'd have to walk all the way around the coffee table to get there? Jane was far too preoccupied with redistributing food around her plate to fit everything she wanted on it to notice. Maura could walk over and sit. It wouldn't be hard.

She took the armchair.

Seeing the food piled up on Jane's plate the way it was made her stomach cry out. Dinner with Mother had been delicious but the portions at Pince, the French-inspired seafood restaurant that had recently opened up by the waterfront, certainly left something to be desired. Before she could let the question sit in her brain, being re-shaped and extruded and trimmed down until she gave up and let the silence extend indefinitely, she opened her mouth and asked it. "Could I have some, too?"

Jane paused mid-scoop, putting down her plate and producing another from behind the wall of aluminium and plastic she'd been serving herself from. Maura must have looked startled because Jane said, "Well I figured you wouldn't want all this," using the empty plate to point to her very full one.

Maura hadn't seen the other plate and hadn't realized Jane had brought two over from the start. She recalibrated, shaking her head. "Oh, I just meant when you're finished preparing your own. Or I can serve myself, even. I didn't mean to interrupt." She felt colour rising up her chest to her cheeks and began to regret saying anything.

Jane either didn't register the comment or chose to ignore it. She pulled a couple of lumpia from a container marked "veg" and added them to the empty plate, following that up with a modest half-serving of noodles and the same of chicken.

She held the plate out to Maura, hoping she'd gotten the portions right. Hey, happy wife, happy life, right? she thought to herself, pleased when Maura took the plate from her with a small smile. Wait, what?

The thought was so jarring that she dropped the white plastic fork she'd been using as a serving utensil and had to scramble to catch it before it hit the floor. She recovered with an awkward chuckle, Maura hiding her own laugh behind her hand as she started to eat. Jane's mind whirred as she put the finishing touches on her plate and dug in. At least the food provided a plausible excuse for her silence.

The phrase had come to her in her own internal voice, but in her father's cadence. Hey, happy wife, happy life, right? How many times had she heard him say that, after doing something sweet for her Ma or making sure something was just how she liked it?

And look at what that had meant in the end.

Jane did her best not to bristle, masking her reaction to the thought behind a hearty bite of chicken. She was not her father, she reminded herself. And Maura was certainly not her wife. Although... that was a bit how Constance had acted, wasn't it?

Jane looked over at Maura as she twisted pancit onto her fork (real, metal; Jane had grabbed two of those from the kitchen as well, being familiar with Maura's opinion of both the resistance to force and environmental impact of plastic ones). She simply watched for a moment as Maura's fingers twirled and gripped. She watched as Maura brought the fork to her mouth, her soft lips closing daintily around it. Then her gaze flicked unintentionally up to Maura's eyes, deep pools of green and gold, and she nearly choked.

She could just ask. She could ask Maura if something had been said that might lead Constance to think they were... together. But what would she do with the answer?

In the rare moments where Jane was entirely honest with herself, she could begin to admit that maybe the feelings she had about Maura were a bit more than friendly. Maura was certainly closer and more affectionate with her than with anyone else, including the men she'd dated, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Okay, maybe it did.

But what if it didn't?

She coughed to clear her throat and gave a weak thumbs up to show she was fine. They ate in relative silence (mostly because the food was good) then cleaned up together, each with her own established role in the routine. When they were finished, Maura stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment and faced Jane, looking as though she was going to say something. She almost did in fact, but stopped, her breath hitching, catching on the edges of whatever sentiment she had been about to express. All she said when she actually spoke was, "Goodnight." Jane echoed the word hoarsely and followed Maura up the stairs, then peeled off into the guest room.

She did fall asleep. Eventually.

"Jane, what is this?"

There was the sound of socked feet padding across the floor and then a head of curly black hair poked through the laundry room doorway. "Huh?"

Maura held up a washer-rumpled grey twill dress by the sleeve. "This." Jane could tell she wasn't impressed.

She swallowed the bite of bagel she'd been chewing. "Uh, it's my court dress. It's wet, because it just came out of your washing machine, because the machines at my apartment are out and you're being a really nice friend and letting me do a load here."

"Thank you, yes, I know that part," said Maura briskly. She pursed her lips and regarded the garment in her hand with unmasked distaste. "This is a box store take on a Carolina Herrera from Fall 2002. How long has this been your court dress?"

Jane scrunched her nose in thought. "It was before I got into Homicide but after I made detective, so..." She took another bite of bagel, shrugging. Maura looked aghast. Jane widened her eyes in challenge. "What?"

Maura shook the dress out with a final-sounding snap before tossing it almost disdainfully into the dryer. "I'm taking you shopping."

"Maura-a!"

"Ja-ane! It's worn and faded and one of the belt loops is about to give out. It's unacceptable. The idea of a court outfit is to make you look more respectable than your slacks and t-shirts do."

"You like me in my slacks and t-shirts," Jane grinned, then froze. That was a weird thing to say. Why had she said that?

Thankfully, Maura hadn't been looking at Jane in that moment and she had missed the minorly mortified look on Jane's face. The corner of her mouth tugged into a slight smile as she continued to not make eye contact with Jane. "I do." She pressed a couple of buttons on the dryer, which she had mostly loaded before their conversation began, then turned to face Jane again as it rumbled to life. "We're still going shopping, though."

Jane growled as she shoved the last piece of bagel into her mouth and stomped back to the kitchen to rinse her plate. "Next time I'm takin' my laundry to Frankie's."

Maura rolled her eyes as she followed Jane out of the room. "You have every right to take your laundry wherever you please." In the kitchen, she slipped behind Jane to the end of the counter and pulled something out of her purse. "Give me ten minutes to change, and then meet me in the Mercedes." That should change your attitude. Sure enough, Jane's eyes lit up like freshly-stoked embers as she caught the keys Maura had just tossed over. Maura could see Jane was about to ask a question and held up a hand to stop her. "Yes, you can even drive." Jane pumped her fist in the air and Maura bit her lip, almost feeling bad for amending, "As long as you promise to follow directions."

Jane's face fell very slightly before she nodded. "Deal, promise." She looked at Maura for a second more as if waiting to be dismissed, then thought better of it and ran for the door.

Maura chuckled indulgently as she made her way up the stairs to change. She found herself replaying the moment of Jane's little fist pump, marveling at the way so childish an action could make attraction spark up in her core.

Oh, sure, Maura was attracted to Jane. She had noticed that recently, and promptly compartmentalized it. Jane was straight, and she couldn't help it if the sight of muscles contracting under her Mediterranean skin made Maura feel warmer than the Sicilian sun. Or at least she said she was straight, and that was as good as being so for all Maura could do about it. These things couldn't be rushed.

Things had been happening lately though, between them; things she couldn't ignore or deny. Maura sighed. It seemed like Jane could still ignore and deny. Or maybe she really didn't realize? It seemed impossible that someone so observant professionally could be so exasperatingly thick on a personal level. Still possible though, she supposed, remembering time after time when she herself had been made aware—politely or not—that she had missed something which was supposedly obvious to everyone else. Maybe it was like that.

Something told her it wasn't, though. Something about the look in Jane's eye when it caught Maura's after playing over her body a moment too long. Something about the note in Jane's voice when she said the word "friend" in reference to Maura, like she wished she could say something else instead. There was something there—something scared and at the same time almost pleading, like an injured animal that knows it needs human attention but will also hiss and spit and bite when someone approaches to administer it.

Should she let herself get bitten? Should she try and draw Jane out, show her it was okay, that she could be trusted with this, too? No; she shouldn't get greedy. Jane already trusted her with so much.

Jane would come to her when she was ready. Or she wouldn't.

Life would go on either way.

Maura shook her head at herself in the mirror; how had she gotten so morose? She smoothed down the front of her dress one last time—floral, Marc Jacobs—applied and blotted her lipstick, and made her way back downstairs. For now, Jane, her best friend and coworker, needed a new dress for court. She needed to focus on that. She could go back to considering and testing theories about Jane as her—something else, later.

Maura spent the entire drive to the Newbury Street boutique admonishing herself for letting Jane drive her car. Not because Jane did anything wrong—if anything her friend was more considerate and obedient than expected—but because of how she looked doing it. It was making compartmentalizing difficult.

"This is the place, right?" Jane asked as they walked up to an imposing wooden door under a lavender-coloured awning. She looked concerned. In fact, she had on that look she got when she was trying to figure out why Maura was upset. Did Maura seem upset?

"It is, yes," said Maura, catching up. She'd been putting the Mercedes key back in its designated pocket of her purse and the zipper had gotten caught, causing her to seek out a spot of direct sunlight between the buildings so she could see what she was doing enough to ease it free without causing damage. "What makes you ask?"

Jane placed a hand on her arm, ignoring Maura's question to ask one of her own. "Hey, you okay? You look kinda... I dunno, flustered."

Maura stumbled, then found her footing again and blinked up at Jane, trying her best to look unaffected. So, she did seem upset. "Nothing is wrong," she said, seizing on the one truth she could use. "This is the place. Shall we?"

Jane raised her eyebrows in a sort of facial shrug and pushed the hefty door open. "We shall."

The next half hour or so was... difficult, for both of them. Jane did not enjoy shopping—let alone dress shopping—on the best of days, but this particular shop and its artfully spaced out wooden hangers of clothes grouped by colour story or whatever was really starting to piss her off. Maura, meanwhile, was calling on every calming strategy she had learned from yoga and from an entire upbringing calculated to mold her into something ladylike to try and cope with the way Jane looked in—well really everything Maura handed her. Not to mention the flash of Jane's bare back she had accidentally caught upon pushing the changing room door open without knocking, at one point. Just once.

At another time and in another mood, Maura would've thrilled at the opportunity to play dress-up with Jane as the doll. Today, however, she simply needed to survive.

At the same time Jane was also reaching for coping strategies, but for very different reasons. She felt profoundly out of place in the boutique, in a way that seemed to make her bones itch. Dresses as a construct and a category of clothing were enough of a torment to deal with, but now she was also having to bite back any comments she may or may not have had about how most store owners actually put the prices of their merchandise on the labels and what kind of clothes store has a bidet in the customers' restroom and did they think they were better than her?

After pulling the latest abomination—plum-colored, cool and silky to the touch—through the gap at the top of the door and hanging it on the hook, she screwed her eyes shut, flared her nostrils, and clenched her jaw in frustration. She needed to take a moment to think about something else.

What Jane normally did in this sort of situation was to think about whatever case was on the front burner at work. She would pull out the case file from the filing cabinet in her mind and look over the facts again. Sometimes there would be a photo in there, an image her brain had captured of the crime scene, or the victim's apartment, or just something she had seen during the investigation and noticed something about. Usually she didn't know what she had noticed about it when she captured it, just that there was something there, something that could lead to a thread to unravel. It was like a spot-the-difference game or something; she would go over her instinct-pictures in moments away from the case and catch something she'd missed before, and then review everything again with that new clue in mind. From there, more often than not, her gut steered her right.

She reached for the folder now. But the image at the top didn't have anything to do with the Marlowe case (Fred's grandson had definitely been the one to kill him but there was no proof); instead, the image that flooded Jane's neurons was of Maura.

It was from just a little while ago, during their walk from the car to the shop. About ten steps from the door, Jane had noticed Maura's presence half a step behind her draw away somewhat, indicating she had stopped or gone back. Jane had turned around then and seen something that caused her breath to stop in her throat, as if someone had seen the way her lips parted in surprise and snuck a cork in there: Maura, her hair flowing down her back as she tossed it out of her face to get a closer look at something, the colour and movement reminding Jane of ripples across a pond at that moment of sunrise when the whole world is cast in gold.

Okay, she thought, a little dazed. Well. We should probably come back to that one later, brain, but right now I gotta get this teeny button done up. She mentally placed a post-it note on the folder before putting it away and calling Maura over to come and see how this dress looked.

What they eventually settled on was in fact a suit ("a real one, with pants," as Jane had put it), dark slate blue, with a thin, notched lapel on the jacket and pants that Jane insisted on wearing lower than they ought to sit. Maura's fragile saving grace was that the suit wasn't yet tailored to every curve and dip of Jane's body. She would need to be prepared with breathing exercises for Jane's court appearance days, going forward.

Jane placed the suit on the counter and smiled perfunctorily at the sales associate, itching for freedom. She knew it probably showed on her face that she was relieved to be wrapping up but she really did not care.

At least she wasn't ending up with a dress for once.

Maura paid, of course, and Jane tried not to feel uncomfortable about that. She found it was easier than it used to be and that fact also took effort for her not to feel uncomfortable about, which was just great. She grabbed the paper bag without looking at the sales associate again and headed for the door.

"She didn't actually do or say anything untoward, did she?" asked Maura, adjusting the strap of her purse and coming up next to Jane.

"Not directly," grumbled Jane, shoving her non-bag hand into her jeans pocket and repressing a snarl. She needed to get out of here. She needed them both to.

She reached the pretentiously heavy wooden door first and grasped its brass handle, waving Maura through ahead of her. Just as Maura was stepping through the doorway, however, an older woman was hauled into the shop by a very excited bearded collie in a ridiculous jewelled collar.

For anyone who was not Jane or Maura in that moment, it would have been extremely easy to have all one's attention captured by the spectacle of the be-sabled woman and her sparkly, opinionated muppet. The detective and the doctor, however, breathlessly tumbled out onto the street. They stopped there on the sidewalk and stared at one another for several moments, instantly forgetting about who or what had come through the door.

This was because as Maura stepped in front of Jane who was holding the door, and the dog and woman barrelled through, Jane had grabbed Maura to pull her out of the way. She had placed a hand across Maura's waist and pulled Maura in against her, her front to Maura's back, and Maura had moaned. Not cried out in surprise or let out a nervous laugh or anything else. The sound had been small, but it had been unmistakable and unmistakably sexual.

Neither one of them said a word for several long moments. Jane's mind raced. It was very clear what had just happened, she didn't need to spend any time unpacking that. The question now was what to do next.

They could... talk about it. She could ask Maura why she had just made a noise like one of her fantasies was actively coming true when Jane had touched her; why she was currently blushing bright enough to match the bottoms of her shoes. But then they would have to cross this line they had been coming up to unprepared and uncomfortable. They had been walking for some time now toward this waterfall in the distance, knowing they would have to veer off the path sometime or step through the crashing water to discover whatever was on the other side. If they were to cross, Jane wanted them to do it hand in hand, to feel the moment sluice over them and revel in it together.

Going through in this moment, as they were now, all they would end up with was a cold shower.

Jane decided she didn't want that; she also knew, though, that she wasn't the only one with a say. She wondered for a moment whether Maura would want her to ask, to clear the air and deal with it and... move on. But the way she looked at Jane then—as if she was afraid she had just ruined everything and she might be about to cry about it—made that seem unlikely.

So Jane made a show of patting down her pockets before looking up and saying, "Oh right, I gave you the keys back when we parked. Do you wanna drive home?"

Maura looked a bit startled for a moment. Then she gave Jane a watery, grateful smile, and a nod.

Maura sprayed hydrogen peroxide solution on the morgue slab and began wiping it down with paper towel. She let out a breath and was caught off-guard by how beleaguered it sounded.

Well, perhaps it wasn't so surprising to discover that she was exhausted; it had been an unpleasant day. It had started immediately: bleary-eyed and less able to shake off sleep than usual, she had made her coffee with unfiltered water and only realized after adding milk to her cup. This wasn't hugely problematic, really, but it was less good for the machine and it set her just off-kilter enough to get properly frustrated when traffic turned out to be worse than usual. She had shown up to work already stressed and very nearly late, which to Maura's mind was late. This undesirable state of affairs only worsened when Maura was called halfway through the morning to a crime scene that wasn't Jane's. This should've been fine in and of itself and usually was, but today it meant that when some hotheaded young uniform said something inappropriate to Maura as she knelt down to inspect the body, no one stepped in to shut him down. This fact had made Maura feel foolish, alone in her car on the way back to the precinct; she should be capable of handling herself without Jane. Then, that afternoon, she had been startled while cutting into a body by a lab tech's extraordinarily loud sneeze and ended up with blood down the front of her brand new Teatum Jones dress. Knowing it served her right for leaving her lab coat open, she had changed into black scrubs and not left the morgue once since. She sighed. Thinking back, she had been more distracted than usual today. Yesterday too, in fact. Why could that be?

The day was very nearly over. She just needed a breather. She paused, leaning against the slab with her hands spread, head hung and eyes closed. Just for a moment.

Jane spied the hunched-over shape of her friend through the morgue blinds and decided on a quiet approach. She slipped through the doors and waited where Maura would see her once she looked up.

Five seconds or so later, Maura had still not looked up. Jane cleared her throat softly. "Y'alright there?"

Maura's eyes snapped open and she looked up at Jane. Several ideas crashed into each other in her brain so that she tried to say "Jane," and "I'm fine," and "Can I help you?" all at the same time, so that the sounds all came out in a jumbled mess.

Jane startled. "Whoa, guess not." Maura looked... haggard, nearly; definitely like she'd had a rough day. They had hardly seen each other since yesterday afternoon, both just being busy with different things, and Jane kicked herself for not checking in on Maura. She wasn't the worst Jane had seen her, thankfully, as that would mean something was really wrong. But something was definitely wrong. "Do you want a hug?"

Maura exhaled into a weak smile. "That would be very nice, actually," she said quietly.

Jane walked over and wrapped her best friend tightly in her arms. Maura pressed in close, entirely unselfconscious in a way that made Jane feel proud. Jane just held her, letting Maura nuzzle in against her shoulder and stay there for as long as she needed, which turned out to be several long moments.

When they pulled apart again, Maura felt many times better. She opened her mouth to thank Jane but Jane spoke first. "What were you in the middle of when I came in? Cleaning, right? Here, sit down, I can finish." She pulled over a rolling office chair and guided Maura to it with a hand on her waist. Maura could do little other than take the seat and watch as Jane snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves and picked up the slab wipe-down where she'd left off.

Maura caught herself licking her lips as she watched Jane clean up the morgue for her. Something about the combination of Jane's kindness and the way she looked in her grey pinstriped shirt very much had Maura's attention. She shifted in her seat, unintentionally rubbing her legs together and letting out a small gasp at the sensation.

Jane heard the sound and saw out of the corner of her eye how Maura had moved her legs to cause it. She studiously did not look over.

With a couple of instructions from Maura, Jane was able to get everything in order. She pulled the blue gloves off and tossed them in the trash, wiped her hands on her pants, and offered one to Maura to help her up. Jane did not catalogue the way Maura's cheeks darkened a shade as she took it.

She waited outside the office as Maura changed her clothes. She fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt to avoid thinking about the doctor peeling off those damned black scrubs. Jane had started noticing those more recently. She refused to think about them now.

Maura stepped back out a few moments later in her emergency change of clothes—a periwinkle blue keyhole neck blouse that was slightly creased and tailored black slacks that weren't as sharply creased as she would have liked. Slung over her arm were her blazer, her purse, and a dry cleaning bag containing her soiled dress. She locked her office door one-handed with practiced ease and turned to face Jane.

Jane's eyes went wide for a moment before she schooled her features, and Maura decided it must be because of the dry cleaning bag. She felt the need to defend herself. "It's simply a prudent thing to have around for someone who regularly wears these sorts of things," she said, holding up her arm to indicate the bag. "Especially for someone who works with something that stains as much as blood," she added, adjusting the hanger so it wouldn't catch on her purse strap.

Jane's eyes bugged out again. "Wait, wait, wait. You mean this is your backup outfit?"

Maura cocked her head in question. "Yes? Is there something wrong with that?"

"Definitely not," Jane rushed out, looking away.

They both took half a step down the hall toward the parking lot door, then paused, each sensing that they weren't quite finished with the conversation. Maura placed a hand on Jane's arm as if to hold her back, but Jane wasn't going anywhere; was instead looking back at her expectantly.

"Thank you," said Maura finally, "for knowing what to do. That was... just right."

Jane smiled. "You wanna talk about your day?"

Maura shifted her weight without moving her feet any further down the hall. "Maybe later. That is," she hurried to add, "if you want to come over." She felt unaccountably bashful all of a sudden.

Jane's smile grew. "Yeah, I'd love to."

Neither of them moved, still.

Jane looked deeply into the swirling peridot pools of Maura's eyes, which was not difficult given how they drew her in. The moment stretched on as if waiting for them both to catch up. Jane realized that if she asked a certain sort of question just then, Maura would give her an honest answer.

So she did. "How come you don't like hugs from anyone else but you'll almost always accept one from me?"

Maura was not pinned in place but she may as well have been, under Jane's dark and gently demanding gaze. "I could ask you the same thing," she whispered. It took all the air in her lungs.

Jane, not expecting that answer, pulled her head back a millimetre or two and assessed. With the things going on in Maura's eyes and voice she was still pretty sure Maura wanted the same thing she did. It occurred to her that Maura's question was an offer, a last exit off the highway to the danger zone; she was letting Jane have the wheel so Jane could steer them clear with a bent truth, something Maura herself wasn't at liberty to do.

This time, Jane felt herself flex her hands on the wheel and keep driving. "You could ask me that, and I'll tell you, but you first." She tried to look at Maura like she knew what she was doing.

Maura didn't look entirely sure of this plan. "It's that we're... very close, in many ways, and—"

Jane cut her off. "Maura. I don't need you to talk around it. Just tell me." She hoped Maura could see the rest of what she was saying in her face. It's okay. I've got you. Her hand twitched at her side with the impulse to touch Maura, but they were slightly too far apart for her to reach.

Maura felt for an absurd moment like she might cry, overwhelmed by the intellectual effort of putting everything she wanted to say into words. Then, driven by something that was like desperation but sweeter, she took two steps forward and collided with Jane, joining their lips.

There's that waterfall, thought Jane, giving herself over to it. They kissed slow and deep and like they had been waiting for a very long time. Maura melted completely against her, and it made Jane feel invincible. It made Jane feel the way Maura trusted her completely, and she wanted to fight something to prove herself worthy of that trust. But there was nothing for her to fight so she just went on holding Maura and kissing Maura, and when Maura let out the softest whimper Jane had ever heard she let it echo in the cavern of their mouths.

When they came apart Jane took Maura in anew, watching her pupils bloom with desire. Maura ran her tongue over her lips and murmured, "We should get going."

She watched as Jane's expression morphed from reverent awe into rakish delight. "Yeah. Yeah, let's get outta here."