Fic: The Unruly Thoughts Of One Jane Rizzoli (Jane/Maura)
NOTE: Ever get that feeling where just the thought of seeing the person you like is enough to make you almost stall at a roundabout, then almost get run over once you've actually made it out of your car alive?
Yeah. It's certainly something.
Title: The Unruly Thoughts Of One Jane Rizzoli
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Fandom: Rizzoli and Isles
Pairing: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli
Spoilers: none
Summary: Jane's brain.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Know what I love? I fucking love that. That right there; her twitchy nose and that sigh she sometimes- yeah, there you go- and her hand, magically finding its way right under her cheek, neat and tucked in. Like a sardine. Like it knows exactly what to do. Like a fucking princess.
Oh wow Rizzoli. That is some real gay shit there. You’ve really outdone yourself. Now shut the fuck up and get a good grip on your balls. You, are one whipped motherfucker.
Maura hums contently.
Lord have mercy, fuck Maura. What the hell are you doing to me woman?
Jane rolls her eyes. She then remembers no one can see her (pining away and being the girl Ma had always begged of her) and proceeds to do not a damn thing about her current predicament.
She reaches out, pushing locks of hair out of Maura’s eyes, sheepishly letting her fingers slide against the firm contour of a jaw, grazing sheets in the process. They smell like Maura. Hell, everything smells like Maura.
She smells un-be-lievable. She smells like Mother Nature took a dump and then sprinkled it with lavender or pomegranate or whatever the fuck kinda shower gel Maura’s using this week.
“I love you. It makes me want to jump off a goddamn cliff but I love you, Maur. Shit,” Jane whispers, unable to help from laughing when Maura nods her approval and scoots closer, abandoning her side of the bed and intruding on Jane’s, entirely and with no objection.
It’s so good, so very good to feel a body by her side and not be phased by hard, jagged edges of harder muscle. Maura is delightfully soft. And warm. She’s soft when she’s sleeping and softer still when she’s holding Jane down and confessing words right into her mouth.
“If I could say it better, I would. You know that, right?”
Maura whimpers, tilting her head, lazy lips catching against the side of Jane’s neck. And Jane, for all her bravado and blunt charm, does nothing but swoon. Because there are millions of butterflies hammering through her stomach, up to her chest and it feels like one of them might set off a grenade and she might die.
“And I’d tell you the sun shines outta your ass, and I kinda wanna be with you ‘til I’m eighty-five and you gotta change my diaper.”
This time, when Maura doesn’t make a sound, Jane shuts her eyes and yawns, wrapping a firm arm around Maura’s waist, ready to fall asleep again.
She’s almost there, almost willing to forget the whole thing, unscathed, pride intact. But Maura finds it in herself to stir, sneaking a hand under the covers, under the thin material of Jane's tank top, nails raking over the taught skin she finds there.
“They have nurses for that, Jane,” she mumbles sleepily, rolling over onto her back with all the nonchalance of someone who has, for lack of a better term, had their cake and eaten it too.
Jane grunts.
Next time, admire only with your mouth shut.
Yeah. It's certainly something.
Title: The Unruly Thoughts Of One Jane Rizzoli
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Fandom: Rizzoli and Isles
Pairing: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli
Spoilers: none
Summary: Jane's brain.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Know what I love? I fucking love that. That right there; her twitchy nose and that sigh she sometimes- yeah, there you go- and her hand, magically finding its way right under her cheek, neat and tucked in. Like a sardine. Like it knows exactly what to do. Like a fucking princess.
Oh wow Rizzoli. That is some real gay shit there. You’ve really outdone yourself. Now shut the fuck up and get a good grip on your balls. You, are one whipped motherfucker.
Maura hums contently.
Lord have mercy, fuck Maura. What the hell are you doing to me woman?
Jane rolls her eyes. She then remembers no one can see her (pining away and being the girl Ma had always begged of her) and proceeds to do not a damn thing about her current predicament.
She reaches out, pushing locks of hair out of Maura’s eyes, sheepishly letting her fingers slide against the firm contour of a jaw, grazing sheets in the process. They smell like Maura. Hell, everything smells like Maura.
She smells un-be-lievable. She smells like Mother Nature took a dump and then sprinkled it with lavender or pomegranate or whatever the fuck kinda shower gel Maura’s using this week.
“I love you. It makes me want to jump off a goddamn cliff but I love you, Maur. Shit,” Jane whispers, unable to help from laughing when Maura nods her approval and scoots closer, abandoning her side of the bed and intruding on Jane’s, entirely and with no objection.
It’s so good, so very good to feel a body by her side and not be phased by hard, jagged edges of harder muscle. Maura is delightfully soft. And warm. She’s soft when she’s sleeping and softer still when she’s holding Jane down and confessing words right into her mouth.
“If I could say it better, I would. You know that, right?”
Maura whimpers, tilting her head, lazy lips catching against the side of Jane’s neck. And Jane, for all her bravado and blunt charm, does nothing but swoon. Because there are millions of butterflies hammering through her stomach, up to her chest and it feels like one of them might set off a grenade and she might die.
“And I’d tell you the sun shines outta your ass, and I kinda wanna be with you ‘til I’m eighty-five and you gotta change my diaper.”
This time, when Maura doesn’t make a sound, Jane shuts her eyes and yawns, wrapping a firm arm around Maura’s waist, ready to fall asleep again.
She’s almost there, almost willing to forget the whole thing, unscathed, pride intact. But Maura finds it in herself to stir, sneaking a hand under the covers, under the thin material of Jane's tank top, nails raking over the taught skin she finds there.
“They have nurses for that, Jane,” she mumbles sleepily, rolling over onto her back with all the nonchalance of someone who has, for lack of a better term, had their cake and eaten it too.
Jane grunts.
Next time, admire only with your mouth shut.