Author's Notes: Maura's turn now, which is why I plan on using bigger words! No med terms though, because I don't feel like butchering the medical field's language. English is the only language I butcher, fo' shizzle. (but, why is it still in first person/present tense? I mean, all you did during the first chapter was complain-) Look, I'm a bit OCD okay? It all needs to be the same. It's called consistency, voice in my head. (sigh, okay. But you made everyone wait so effin long, will there still be sex?) Um, yeah. Duh. I'm very true to my M rating. Charlie don't take it lightly. (…So you don't like first person, and that means you refer to yourself in third? Really?) Shh! The story's starting…

Chapter Two

[The Easy Doctor]

I wake up suddenly, to the sound of buzzing in my head, and an empty bed.

This is disappointing, considering that I'm positive it wasn't empty last night. Disappointing, but not entirely surprising, I suppose.

I open my eyes, and glance around, taking in my surrounding. My bed is definitely empty, but as my eyes focus, I see her standing next to my dresser, turning her phone off. Then the buzzing stops.

She notices me stirring and gives me a small smile, before putting her phone down. I smile back, feeling a slight heat rise up my neck, embarrassed a little, at how happy it makes me to see that she's still here.

"Sorry. I didn't mean for it to wake you up."

"It's okay." I clear my throat, wishing I had some water, as hoarse as my voice sounds. But, given my current state of undress under the blankets, I'm not in any hurry to get to the kitchen. I glance at the clock, seeing it read 7:02 a.m. "I should be getting ready for work soon, anyway."

Jane stands by the dresser awkwardly for a few moments before making a decision to come back to the bed.

She's not running away screaming. I guess that's a plus.

She grabs her shirt off the floor on her way, tossing it up on the bed, before sitting next to me. I flinch a little when I see her back, and the red scraps along her shoulders. I didn't draw any surface blood but I definitely damaged a few layers of skin.

"I'm sorry about your back."

She looks at me confused for a moment.

"Oh, that. It's okay," I sit up a little straighter, holding the covers tight to my chest. "Besides you were just getting even." She smiles, but I don't really understand. She moves her hand to my face, running the palm of her thumb along my cheek, slowly moving down my neck. My eyes flutter a little, the memories from last night hitting me hard. "I gave you one decent hickey."

"Hm?" I ask, a little lost in my thoughts. She chuckles a bit, looking at me knowingly.

"You're neck. You'll have a heck of a time covering that up."

She moves her hand away from me, and I replace it with my own, curiously running my fingers along my neck, trying to see if I could feel the bruised skin, but already knowing that I wouldn't be able to.

Jane moves to lie down next to me, a little more comfortable. In her determination last night, I never did manage to get her fully undressed. The only thing I personally took off of her was her belt.

"So, was this your first time?" She asks, looking down at her hands like she always does when she's nervous or scared.

"I don't know what you mean." Maybe I do, a little, but I have to be sure. I can't make assumptions about other people's thoughts, because that's when margin of human error occurs, and if I'm wrong it can be much more destructive than if I just ask a few more questions. Just to make sure.

"Last night. Have you done that before?"

"I've had sex before." I reply, still a little confused, and I almost instantly knew I had gotten the guess wrong by the annoyed look she shot me.

"I know you—…With a woman. Have you done that before?"

"Yes." I reply, more confident.

"Oh." That's not a good sound. When Jane's face makes that expression, it's usually not good either.

"…Have you?"

"No."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised by her response. I had just thought—

"What do you mean, 'really'? I think I'd remember." Her voice is bordering on a familiar sound of anger, and it makes me wish I didn't choose the most inopportune time to become inarticulate.

"It's just you were very good at it. You seemed to know what you were doing and didn't need much prompting from me."

She smiles a little, and I'm relieved that I finally said something right this morning.

"I didn't need any prompting from you. I was good." I can still hear the smile in her voice, and it brings one out of me as well.

"Yes, you were very good." Very. A shudder runs down my back at the memory.

She gives such a sideways grin that, oh my, someone save me from an overconfident Rizzoli.

After a moment, her face gets more serious.

"Who was it?" She asks, looking down at her hands again.

Again, I'm confused.

"Who…?"

"The woman before me, was it just once or…?"

Oh.

"Oh, um…" I take a second for my wording, but letting her know that I comprehended. "It was in high school."

Jane nods. "Oh, right. All girls' school." I don't like the way she says that. Not at all. It's the same way she makes assumptions about cases, making guesses with confidence, but she doesn't have any idea. My eyebrows crease while I stare at her.

"It wasn't like that." I try to sound more stern than hurt, but I think it comes out the other way around.

Her eyes meet mine a little wide, and apologetic.

"Maura, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

I nod a little, in acceptance even though I know she did mean it like that. I look at the clock again, and try to think of something to fill the silence that has awkwardly placed itself in the room.

"I'm probably going to head out," I open my mouth in protest, wanting to tell her that she didn't have to leave. "Give you some space to get dressed." She explains, putting on her shirt. She almost certainly needs to get home and change too, and it's almost 7:30.

"I'll see you at work then?" Sure, that didn't sound needy, Maura. Not in the slightest.

"Yeah." Jane replies off handedly, going back over to my dresser to grab her phone and gun. Because we work together so of course I would see her at work.

"I—" She starts to say, standing at my side of the bed, looking down at me. "I had a great time last night." We both cringe at how bad that sounds coming from her.

"That sounds like a line, but it's not." She continues, kneeling to face me, but her eyes stay downcast. She pulls my hand in hers, running her thumbs over my knuckles, taking unsure breaths.

"I mean, you know don't you?" Something raw and full of emotion laces her words, before looking up at me. "It meant something?" She asks almost desperate, and I have to focus to form a response, my breath taken away by her intensity on me.

"Yes."

It undoes me, completely, this passion that she has when she looks at me like that. I've never seen it on her before, not as pure, but just diluted versions of it through anger or pain. But not passion, not towards me, and it just takes a quick look for me to come undone, and my insides melt.

She looks down again, allowing me to steady my breathing.

Yes, it definitely meant something, but what?

"Then we're still friends?" Her voice lightens a little, and she just answers my question.

There is a distinct feeling in my stomach that I can easily associate with disappointment.

I know, as much as I can claim to know about these things that having a physically intimate relationship with your co-workers is not a good idea. There are serious psychological ramifications, which include the increase of distractions, and the decrease of proper communication. The lack of professionalism causes an overall lack of productivity. Which is why I never understood why people did it, and which is also why I myself never did it—

"Maura?"

But Jane is always my exception.

"Yes." I reply a little too quick, getting lost in my thought. Jane's eyes squint slightly, before looking at my bedside clock, and decide that whatever my thoughts were would take a back seat to fresh cloths and being on time for work.

She gives a comforting squeeze to my hand, that certainly did not have its desired effect, and then she leaves.

Jane is always my exception.

Once I hear my front door close, I get out of bed, grabbing a robe from my bathroom.

My one uncontrollable variable.

Knowing already that most of my morning routine would have to go undone; I went to start a pot of coffee before taking my shower.

I don't interact well with other people, and it's painfully obvious to all parties. But with Jane, there was never awkwardness, never a time when I wanted to run away. Even with the lost look she gives me sometimes, and the lost feeling I have with her sometimes, we seem to always find a steady flow. Everything with her is easy. Work is easy. Friendship is easy. Even last night, letting her get that close, allowing that vulnerability from me to show. It was too easy, not allowing me to think of the possible consequences of my actions.

Now it seems that my easy is going to get a bit more complicated.

I start to run the water for my shower, when I'm distracted by my reflection. I look into the bathroom mirror and see the dark patch of burst blood vessels that Jane was referring to, taking residence on my lower neck.

Foundation won't cover that.

Sigh.

It's going to be a long day.

.

.

.

At 11:30 a.m., I decide that I'm being ridiculous. Frost needs the autopsy report on Hoyt's newly found victim, a report that I had finished at 9:45, and have not yet left the lab to give it to him. Instead, I've been spending almost two hours looking at every pair of shoes that the internet was selling, within fashionable confines of course. But by now, I know that this is exactly the kind of unproductively that I don't understand or tolerate from others. So, with report in hand, I head to the homicide department, without any intent to avoid Jane.

Besides, with a little luck, she'll be at lunch.

But she's not. She's slouching over her desk, enthralled in paperwork, looking bored and restless.

I never really believed in luck anyway.

Frost wasn't even at his desk, probably gone to lunch, and against the sinking feeling in my stomach, I decided avoidance wasn't the best path today. I walk confidently up to Jane's desk, looking a little at the forms she was filling out.

"Where's Frost?" I ask, trying for nonchalance.

"Out to lunch." She replies before finally looking up at me, and acknowledging my existence. She runs her eyes up the length of my body, in a completely obvious way.

"Nice dress."

"Thank you." I only blush a little.

"A little warm outside for a turtleneck, isn't it?" Now she's teasing me, great. She gives me a sideways grin and arched eyebrow as she leans against the arm she has propped up as a head rest. I see Korsak look up from his computer, with feigned interest.

"It's sleeveless." My voice is a little defensive, knowing that my navy blue dress was entirely appropriate for both the season and the workplace.

"Right." Jane insinuates that it has nothing to do with why I'm wearing it. I huff a little at that, rolling my eyes at her teasing. Her smile just gets bigger, and she glances down at her desk. Is she blushing?

"I finished my autopsy report." I place the file on Frost's desk for him when he gets back.

"Let me guess, Hoyt killed him?" Jane's voice has a tone of suspense and levity to it, causing Korsak to laugh a little behind me. It was general knowledge for anyone that was working this case that Hoyt had in fact killed him but;

"There was actually no physical evidence on the body suggesting that."

She rolls her eyes slightly, as she always does when I misunderstand her. Which I seem to do a lot, but Jane often doesn't mean exactly what she says.

"I was kidding."

Sometimes, it's like a puzzle you have to figure out, and I enjoy puzzles of mathematics and science, but ones of human emotion are the ones that I always have trouble with.

Jane sits up straight, glances at me, with a shine in her eyes and the corners of her lips curving upward.

"Have a seat, stay a while." She says, tapping her pen on the stack of paperwork occupying her desk.

I smile genuinely while I sit in the chair against her desk. There was a sense of apprehension for seeing her at work, thinking for sure that one of us would make this day unnecessarily awkward.

But it wasn't. It was just Jane.

This is a good sign, I decide. Her willingness to be around me, like always. We can continue about business, being professional, and still keep our friendship intact. Yes, I'm feeling very confident about it. I look over to Jane and see her looking at my legs. A distant gaze with distinct pupil dilation and—

And she's looking at my legs. Sometimes I can't read Jane as easily as I would like, but I always know when she's looking.

So much for innocent friendship.

Despite my better judgment, I smile knowingly, watching her gaze move up the length of my thighs, probably imagining last night and how they were wrapped around her hips. I flex the muscles in my legs slightly, trying to quell the sudden ache I seem to have from the memory. She caught the movement of muscles, and moved her eyes to mine. I had to stop myself from gasping at the shadow of zeal that clouded over dark brown.

I know she's not purposely trying to kill me, but—…

Okay. Two can play, Detective.

I move my right hand out of my lap and lean over, fingers pretending to fix the strap of my heel, Jane's gaze following my movements. Once the imaginary task is quickly done, I run my fingers up the length of my calves, slowly, dragging my nail along lightly. I stop myself from shuddering at the sensation, moving higher up to my thigh. I flatten the palm of my hand against the width and move it to where my dress starts and my legs cross. She chews on her bottom lip in the most adorable way when,

"Jane…" I hear Korsak stand and call to her from behind me. Immediately, my hands are back in my lap and playing innocent. Jane doesn't respond to him though. "Jane!" He says, louder this time. I uncross my legs and kick her gently, snapping her out of her stupor.

"What?" She practically yells in response as he walks around me to face her.

"Do you want any lunch?" His hands go up in a defensive move. "I'm going down to grab something."

"No." Her eyes are back on my legs, he turns to go, and then they're back on him. "Wait. What are you getting?"

He stops and sighs. "Roast beef."

"Get me some too." He nods with a slight smile and walks out. Once he's gone, Jane looks at me with a sigh.

"I'm going to the bathroom." She says unexpectedly, standing up. I'm a little confused and disappointed at the statement, wondering why she was suddenly in such a rush to leave. I stand with her, quickly straightening out stray creases in my dress with my hands.

"Um, okay." I start to make my way towards the hallway. "I have some paperwork to finish filling out in the lab—" Jane suddenly reaches out and lightly grabs my lower arm, leading me in the opposite direction of my lab once we get in the hallway

"No. You don't." Is all she says in a distracted and low voice.

Apparently I don't.

After a few corners are turned, I realize where she's taking me. Towards the back of the station house is a smaller bathroom that is usually only used on the occasions when drug tests are done. It's smaller and more secluded from the main traffic of the building. She pulls me in with her, and glances around the one stall room before locking the door behind me.

A strong sense of apprehension settles in me, and it isn't relieved when I see her dark glare focus on me. She slowly stalks toward me, and I start to feel more nervous.

"Jane—" I start, and I am abruptly cut off when she pulls me into her, kissing me.

No, not really kissing. Consuming. Drowning me in passion. Making me melt against her. I whimper a little, trying to keep up; all the feelings from last night come back quick. All the feelings, and more. Her hands move down my sides, and up my back, causing shivers to run through me.

After the need for oxygen overlies our passion, we break the kiss. Her hands are on my hips, thumbs pressing into bone gently, as she pulls me against her. I take a few breaths before I look at her.

"What happened to 'just being friends'?"

Jane often doesn't mean exactly what she says.

"I don't remember that. I remember a few minutes ago, when I was sitting innocently at my desk and you started to tease me."

My eyebrow rises. "You are many things Jane, but 'innocent' is hardly one of them."

A scandalous grin breaks out on her face, and her eyes trail down the length of my body.

"I want to take you out of that dress."

My point exactly.

Her head dips down, and I barely feel her lips move across my cloth covered neck, her memory giving her the location of last night's contusion.

"I want to put more marks on you." I feel her hands move up along my ribs, and push gently against my breasts, causing me to gasp a little.

But we shouldn't be doing this here. Even with Jane's precautions, there's still too much risk. We need to talk about this. About all of this, because I don't like feeling confused, and with Jane it's easy to—

"Jane." I try very hard to sound confident and resistant to the sensations she was causing.

I doubt she even hears me, moving her lips to trail kisses on my jaw line, and up to my ear. She pushes against me with a little more force, guiding us against the door we came into.

"Mine." I hear her say, distracted, and I feel a little rush of offense to it.

I most certainly am not.

"Jane." I say with a sharper, more indignant tone. This causes her to look at me, almost curiously.

"No." Her eyes glance down at my lips briefly. "Don't say it like that."

"What?" I stare a little, confused again. Her right hand travels down my hip, and runs along my thigh.

"My name." My head gets a little light when I feel the heat of her hand move back up, under my dress. I should be…I should be stopping her. Right.

"I don't—…" Suddenly, she pushes the material of my underwear aside, and runs her middle finger through wet heat, brushing my clit just slightly. "Jane." I half hiss, half whisper.

"Yes. Say it just like that." Her eyes close for a moment, and I grab her shoulder to keep balance.

I move my legs apart a little.

Maybe I am hers. A little.

But still—

"You're so wet." She says it almost as if she's surprised. As if she doesn't know. I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

But still, I don't do this. I'm not this dangerous or careless, or reckless with anyone.

"I'm not—" I start to say, but Jane takes the opportunity to interrupt me.

"Oh, you're not?" An utterly devious grin appears on her face, and she brings her hand out from under my dress. She presents her finger as evidence to her point. I glare.

"I was going to say; I'm not that easy."

The smile on Jane's face disappears, and she looks serious for a moment. "…I know." Then she places her middle finger in her mouth, sucking on the length of it, and wrapping her tongue around the digit.

"You do?" I whisper, staring at her mouth, now being the one distracted as she looks at me intensely.

"Yeah, definitely." The hand goes back under my dress, as her other one bunches the material of my dress higher up my hips. "You are not easy."

I'm not. But here's Jane, the exception.

I feel her move through my folds, and almost without warning, she shifts to push her finger inside me. My breath catches at the sudden movement.

"…Right, I'm not." I'm still whispering, moving my head closer to hers, and realizing how badly I want to kiss her right now.

"This is not you being easy." She smirks.

"Shut up." I say, before I collide into her, crashing our lips together in a perfect chaos of lips and tongues. I can taste myself in her mouth, and this makes me kiss her harder, and she starts to move inside me, gaining rhythm. It doesn't take long, our kiss breaks, both of us breathing hard, and Jane adds another finger to her penetration. My body is more than ready for it, already feeling my arousal slicking my inner thighs. I arch into another set of fingers that have found themselves on my breast.

"You know, I've imagined being with you…before last night." Her voice is low and serious, looking at me with the passion that breaks me apart. So my eyes are hooded when I look back at her.

"Really?" My voice is breathless, but genuine. I didn't know that.

"Mm Hm." Her hand flexes and moves deeper inside me. I moan. "What about you? Did you ever think about how good this would feel," In. "…me" Out. "…inside you." In.

"Yes." She shushes me at my answer, and I suppose I must have yelled it out.

Jane's face moves closer to mine. "Did you ever touch yourself when you thought about me?"

Her words make me clench and tremble.

"…Jane." Her name sounds more of a groan than anything.

I feel myself tighten around her fingers, and by the proud smirk she's sporting, I imagine she can feel it too.

"Is that a yes?"

I nod.

Her fingers move faster.

"I did too. I would lay in bed…thinking about you…touching myself."

Now my hips are meeting every thrust

"Wou—" Her thumb starts to rub against my clit. "Would you…"

Words. Oh, I want to know, but words aren't working. Not coming out and forming in the way they should. I'm shaking. She hums in my ear, and I feel her breath on my neck.

Please.

"Oh, yes. I would come hard, thinking about you."

Oh, my.

She moves faster inside me.

I feel heat spread through every part of me, my eyes squeeze shut as I try not to yell out. I feel myself go up and over. Then stars.

I see stars.

I love stars.

.

.

.

I spend a few moments fixing my appearance in the bathroom mirror, as Jane is hunched over the sink rinsing the soap off her hands, and running still wet hands over her face.

The heat in the bathroom is gone now, everything feeling stale. Jane isn't saying anything, and the tremors running through my body are almost subdued.

I'm still confused, and Jane won't look at me.

This won't do.

"Jane, we need to talk."

She finishes wiping her face off with a long piece of paper towel.

"I need to get back to work." Her eyes stay on the floor, tossing the brown paper in the waste bin.

I steel myself a little. Take a breath.

"After work then."

"I…I told Frankie that I'd stop by. Ma wants me to check up on him, see how he's doing."

I'm not asking.

She makes a move for the door, and I step slightly in her path, making it known that I was serious.

She sighs, fidgeting.

"After I leave Frankie's tonight, I'll come by. It'll be kind of late though."

I nod.

I don't want this to be what she's turning it into. I've done that before, and I thoroughly disliked its outcome. But, regardless of the fact that her passion makes me buckle and melt, and despite how close I am to her, and even though she just washed me off her hands in the bathroom sink,

I am not that easy.

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Chapter Three Preview

[A Sleepover]

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[I move up behind her, and trail my fingers down the back of her silk nightgown. She feels the sensation and turns to swat my hands away.

"I told you, we're just sleeping." She uses her 'serious' voice, causing me to gape at her indignantly like a teenager. I'm finding out quickly that I don't much like being denied anything Maura related.

"Then stop oiling up like you're getting ready to star in a wet dream." I wave my hands towards the bottle of vanilla scented lotion.

"It's lotion." She unnecessarily clarifies, and I roll my eyes at her.

"Well, it's sexy, so stop." I cross my arms over my chest.

She closes the cap on the lotion, and places it back on her dresser, before turning towards me. Maura tilts her head slightly and all but glares at me. Uh-oh.

"Why don't you give me a list of everything I'm not allowed to do, so the process of me going to sleep will be quicker." Her hands go on her hips and she takes a step toward me. "Can I breathe?"

Her eyebrow arches in a way that says; 'I know exactly what I'm doing to you', and her lips curving upward slightly gives her way.

Okay. Two can play, Doctor.]