The One Where It's Awkward
A Rizzoli and Isles One-Shot

Doctor Hope Martin won't stop calling, and Maura's starting to get hives. It's not really that she doesn't want to see her; she's just got this lump in her throat that won't go away every time she sees the woman who, once upon a time, was her mother. Now it is different. Maura's an adult, well-respected in her field in her own right, and somehow being dragged a little unwillingly into a friendship with one Dr. Hope Martin.

It is, quite frankly, rather distressing for Maura.

(Maura Isles practices the avoidance-method of resolving conflict to rousing success.)

(Most of the time.

Because the failures are never discussed at all. They are the sort of thing that cuts through Maura's consciousness like a knife and won't leave her alone. Inner demons, she jokes, the likes of which mere mortals cannot fathom.)

"I think she likes you," Jane snorts into her beer as Maura puts her phone down after the third text in an hour from Dr. Martin with an exceptionally exasperated sigh. It's awkward; Maura's uncomfortable with the whole thing. It's wrong that they ever even met, and Dr. Martin can never find out about who Maura really is (although Maura is aware that it would not take Dr. Martin's obviously superior intellect long to pick up a copy of The Boston Globeand figure it out). It's all very stressful and is giving her hives.

Maura really, really, hates having hives.

Jane, naturally, thinks the whole thing is hilarious. Maura wonders if this would be a good time for Jane's poor track record with jealousy to rear its ugly head, but honestly, she doesn't like Jane when she's jealous. Her nostrils do this odd and vaguely primate like flaring thing and she starts to strut around like she's packing something more than heat in between her legs.

It is all very base and unbelievably attractive to Maura. (Even if infernally frustrating to the point where Maura will have to remove herself from entire situations of mere casual friendships because Jane's nostrils are flaring aggressively at whomever it is that she's talking to.)

"I fail to see why this is amusing," Maura snips back at Jane as she picks up her phone for what has to be the fourth time in as many minutes. Dr. Martin is in the area, apparently looking for a quiet place to get drinks. Obviously, as Frankie, Frost and a few of the other uniformed duty officers were loudly singing some sort of drinking song, the Robber was not an option. Maura had considered other options and carefully replied in kind.

And then came the offer to come out to join Dr. Martin.

Fiddlesticks.

"She's into you, Maura," Jane cackles.

Maura purses her lips. "Contrary to popular belief, not every meaningful interaction between two women is an indication of some sort of underlying homoerotic tension." She's getting even more snippy now, but she really doesn't like the implication that Jane is almost assuredly right. Maura doesn't like being wrong, it throws off her sense of equilibrium. Jane's right a lot of the time, which Maura finds incredibly vexing because Jane? Jane loves to gloat.

In reality, Maura cannot wrap her head around how Dr. Hope Martin didn't take one look at her and seen Paddy Doyle's nose and cheekbones superimposed across her own hair and skin tone. Their eyes were virtually the same, and now that Maura's seen her socially a few more times it is easier to interact with her. The wound of what Dr. Martin had said, about how she'd wished that the mistake that had given Maura life had never happened, was starting to feel like the same familiar ache it always had been.

She is a child of adoption, she understands this intrinsically. It is a documented fact that children of adoption struggle with a fear of abandonment their entire lives.

What Maura had done, when she'd finally gotten a minute after Dr. Martin had left them and Jane had run off with a break in their case, was call her mother. The woman who had raised her was not Dr. Martin, and the affection in her voice was genuine when Maura had rambled on about how she had met a wonderfully amazing woman that day.

Jane just rolls her eyes as Maura sips at her beer primly, scowling at Jane across their booth. "What should I say to her? I can't just say, I'm sorry, despite you being an inherently attractive, if older, woman; I cannot be with you because you are my biological mother and that would be incestuous." Maura sets her beer back down on the coaster before her. "There's no way she doesn't know."

"I know," Jane whispers. She leans forward, grasping Maura's hand with an encouraging smile. Jane always knows what to do; it's why Maura loves her. "But it's still fucking hilarious."

Maura clucked deep in the back of her throat, a sigh following the noise despite her best efforts to suppress it. "What do I do?"

"Just see where it goes," Jane says. "You're seeing someone, so it doesn't really matter, you don't have to reveal your secret to her, just say: 'I'm sorry, my heart belongs to another.' Best do it very dramatically, hand on your heart, the whole shebang." Jane demonstrates, tossing her head back and placing both hands on her heart like the scantly-clad women on the cover of a harlequin novel.

It's Maura's turn to roll her eyes, and roll she does, because Jane is ridiculous.

She picks up her phone and texts Dr. Martin back carefully.

"I'll see you later then," she says to Jane as Dr. Martin's reply comes through a few minutes later. "I promise I will not do anything awkward this time."

"Yes," Jane sips her beer thoughtfully as Maura stands and squeezes her shoulder, "Don't cry this time, very off putting in young, nubile cougar-bait."

"Jane!"

Jane just laughs and shoos her out of the Robber.

x

Dr. Martin shares so many of Maura's nervous ticks, it's a little bizarre. Maura had no idea that she looked that, well, deranged in public, cleaning things and straightening up as she went. She knows she has some sort of mild-form of OCD, but it is still strange to see the same behavior patterns in a nearly complete stranger.

"Dr. Martin," Maura says quietly, slipping down next to her at the bar, a smile playing at her lips. She's going to play it cool this time, to not turn into an emotional mess. She's going to be Jane.

The smile that greets her is her own, "Hope, please, we're not at work right now."

"Maura then," Maura says as she reaches out to take Hope's outstretched hand. They're the same, size, same worn finger pads. It's awkward as all-get out. Maura feels the hives starting to come back.

Fiddlesticks. Again.

"You actually caught me while I was already out," she explained awkwardly after placing her order with the bartender. Unlike The Dirty Robber, this bar actually was upscale enough to afford a decent wine collection. Maura had picked something out that didn't look too particularly offensive and had settled down onto the barstool. Quiet jazz is playing on the radio, and it's a lot better than Frankie's horrible singing.

"Detective Rizzoli?" Dr. Martin inclines her head. Maura watches as the woman seems to taste the words at her lips before saying them, it's a habit she shares. "She seems like a good friend."

Maura nods, fumbling a little over the words she's not quite sure how to say. "The best sort," she eventually decides upon. It's the truth, while still being non-specific enough to not be obvious that she's seeing Jane. It is a tad unprofessional, after all. Maura supposes that no one really cares, because she does tend to steady Jane out a bit, and that's all well and good, considering Jane is usually and very desperately in need of some steading.

"I've had friendships like that," Dr. Martin murmurs into her wineglass. "They tend to be quite passionate." She's inching closer now, as Maura's wine glass appears before her and she hurriedly finds herself taking a sip. She doesn't have a lot of time to savor it, because Dr. Martin smells very good and the whole thing is just.

"I was hoping maybe ours would become similar, Maura." Dr. Martin continues, backing away and letting Maura breathe. The wine is very good. "You and I have an odd sort of a connection that I don't normally feel with strangers or professional colleagues."

Maura wants to scream that it is because they're related and ask Dr. Martin to please respect her personal space. She can't, however, she can't and she won't because she cannot do that to herself or to Dr. Martin. It's bad enough knowing. (And Dr. Martin is not an idiot and could very well figure this out on her own, should she be so inclined. The fact that she has not points Maura in the direction of willful ignorance, which is every bit as problematic, honestly.)

They lapse into silence then, but it is an uncomfortable one. Maura doesn't like how close Dr. Martin is sitting to her still, and the words keep dying in her throat when she tries to say something - anything really - to draw attention away from how amazingly awkward this is.

Once Maura slept in the same bed as another girl at boarding school and had had an incredibly erotic dream. That paled in comparison to this. And Amelia had woken up and offered to help her finish afterwards; Maura had nearly died of shame. After which point, she had promptly proceeded to lose her virginity.

The point of the matter is that Maura Isles does not do shame well.

"Do-Hope," Maura settles on finally. "Why did you ask me out here tonight?"

Dr. Martin looks as though she honestly hadn't through about it, which didn't really surprise Maura in the least bit. Had Dr. Martin been thinking, none of this would have happened. She would have taken two looks at Jane and Maura and she would have seen. It is so obvious to everyone who bothers to look. Maura doesn't know what else she can say. She wants to tell Dr. Martin so many things, but they're just not coming.

The hand that closes around her own is warm and decidedly more older-feeling than Maura is used to. She doesn't flinch away from the touch and that reaction puzzles her. Maura bites her lip and turns to stare into her own eyes – they're the same and it's so, so jarring. Dr. Martin's eyes are so full of something Maura can't put into words. "Doctor Martin," she's trying not to sound scandalized as she tries to jerk her and away from Dr. Martin. "What sort of a girl do you take me for?"

The older woman's eyes are soft and her expression is kind as she raises her hand up to touch Maura's face. Her fingers were warm, too warm, as Maura is used to Jane's bad circulation and freezing hands and feet. Still, the touch is new, different, nice even. Her mind is screaming as Dr. Martin leans in, her breath warm on Maura's lips. "The sort of girl who could use someone to love her."

Okay. The hives? They're definitely back. Maura feels like crawling out of her skin, hiding from the alien fingers that are not Jane's on her cheek as her very skin rebels against this situation.

The lips are warm on her own, warm and aggressive when Maura's used to sweet kisses full of passion and love. Maura feels her body tensing, desperately trying to get away as she forces thoughts through her mind of Jane, of how very, very wrong this is.

"I shouldn't have come here," Maura fumbles for her wallet, throwing down a twenty for her drink and tip, backing away as quickly as she possibly can.

Dr. Martin inclines her head to one side, "Why not?"

"I'm seeing someone, Hope," Maura sighs, settling down next to Dr. Martin once more. "I - I didn't know how to tell you and I do enjoy your company. I just... I don't know, I don't want to present you with a false impression of myself."

There're emotions running across Dr. Martin's face that Maura recognizes well, but she doesn't comment on them. She just fishes the ones out of the change the bartender left her for the singles and carefully leaves him the remaining five dollars.

"Perhaps I was the one who was wrong then," Dr. Martin whispers. "I am truly sorry if I've put you in an uncomfortable position, Doctor Isles."

Maura's hand reaches out for Dr. Martin's then, and she says very earnestly: "Trust me when I say that it isn't a problem and that I do very much enjoy your company."

Dr. Martin waves Maura off and Maura takes her leave. It isn't her place to linger and make the rejection worse.

x

"She touches you again and I'm gunna kick her ass," is all Jane says when Maura tells her what happened at the bar. "You're mine."

Maura sits down next to Jane and leans in, catching Jane's lips and lingering long enough to make her intent clear. "I know, Jane, I know."

Seriously, though, Maura and her biomom had WAY more chemistry than Maura and any random Cock of the Week.

Thanks to the Kodster and Ms. J for the read through.