'Where the Love Light Gleams' [Alexandra Cabot/Olivia Benson, Jane Rizzoli/Merch bartender] [1/2]
Title: “Where the Love Light Gleams” [L&O:SVU/Rizzoli & Isles crossover AU]
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU/Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: R
Warnings: Het (minor Alexandra Cabot/Trevor Langan), profanity, sexual themes
Pairings: Alexandra Cabot/Olivia Benson, Jane Rizzoli/Merch bartender (Missi)
Word Count: ~19,000
Summary: A detective from Manhattan and an attorney from Boston switch homes for the holidays to take a break from their tumultuous love lives.
Disclaimer: An AU loosely based on Sony Pictures’ “The Holiday.” Alexandra Cabot et al. belong to Dick Wolf; Jane Rizzoli et al. belong to Tess Gerritsen. The title is a lyric from the song “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Buck Ram, Kim Gannon and Walter Kent. You can find the accompanying mix here.
Author’s Notes: As regards the devolution of SVU’s Olivia Benson, my Liv is circa season four. Missi Pyle’s character in “Rizzoli & Isles” episode 1x6, “I Kissed A Girl,” is never mentioned by name and only credited as “Bartender,” thus, for the purposes of this fic, the character’s name is Missi. Additionally, the numbers after Alex and Jane’s AIM usernames are the respective birthdates of actresses Stephanie March and Angie Harmon. *shrug* I have some Wikipedia issues. Also posted here @ my ff.net account. Art by insaneantics21.
---<---<---@
When she looks back on it, Alex will recognize that she should’ve known better. Dating a defense attorney would be considered playing with fire for any prosecutor, but add the fact that it’s Trevor Langan, the dark-haired, dark-eyed kryptonite to Alex’s good judgment, and she’s especially screwed - which, in fact, is part of the problem. There’s just something about fighting it out in court that makes the sex afterwards incredible. In a twisted kind of way their courtroom battles are almost like foreplay, and whenever they spar, one loses and one comes out on top.
So to speak.
Which is why Alex figures she doesn’t have much to worry about when it comes to Trevor. In addition to the sex being fantastic, he wines and dines her when he can, but they’re both busy people with lives outside of each other and she respects that, isn’t nearly as clingy as she imagines most women to be. Their arrangement works for them and that’s why, although she's been around the block enough times to maintain a certain degree of distrust where men are concerned, she kind of feels like somehow she got lucky.
--
The Homicide Unit is having its annual Christmas party and Alex is meant to be going to dinner with Trevor afterwards, which is both a blessing and a curse as she’s ready to leave after fifteen minutes of hobnobbing but knows he has a late meeting that won’t be over for a while. With a sigh, she leans elegantly against a table and tries to look interested in what’s going on around her.
“Are you completely and utterly bored, by any chance?”
Alex jumps at the voice but quickly relaxes when she sees her friend, Maura, standing beside her with a half-full champagne flute. She permits herself a small smile.
“Am I that obvious, Doctor?”
Maura shrugs sunnily and gives her typical overly scientific response. “Perhaps not to the casual observer, but I can tell by the slackening of your facial muscles.” She takes a sip from her glass. “Also, you keep looking at your watch.”
Alex hurriedly puts her hand behind her back, feeling sheepish, and Maura laughs gently.
“So where are you in such a hurry to rush off to? Hot date?”
Generally Alex doesn’t like to share details of her personal life with her colleagues, but Maura has this way about her that makes it impossible not to want to open up. She grins an affirmative, and Maura claps delightedly.
“With Trevor?”
Alex rolls her eyes. “No, with one of my other boyfriends. Of course with Trevor. We’re going to Davio’s.”
“Davio’s.” Maura raises her eyebrows. “Are things getting serious?”
Alex can feel the blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh, well, you know, neither of us really entered into this with that kind of expectation, but…”
“…But?” Maura prompts, eyes wide with excitement.
“But I’m pretty sure we’re heading that way despite ourselves,” she admits shyly, surprised by the thrill of excitement that races up her spine when she voices the feeling aloud for the first time. Things are good, really good, and she’s never been this into somebody before. She’s always told herself she isn’t the type to get committed, but now that she’s teetering on the brink of it, it actually feels pretty great.
Maura squeals happily, getting a faraway look in her eyes that makes Alex nervous.
“Mauraaa,” Alex says sternly. She knows that face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself with this. What are you thinking?”
“Has he ever taken you to Davio’s before?”
“Um…” Alex thinks for a second. “Actually, no. Which is weird because it’s right down the street, but. Why? How is that relevant?”
“Alex…” Maura grabs her hand and squeezes it tight. “Davio’s is a pretty upscale restaurant. People basically only go there for client meetings or special occasions. Do you think tonight… might be the night… when he proposes?”
After a stunned second of silence, Alex barks out a laugh. “No,” she says quickly, and Maura’s face falls. “No, no. We’re not ready for that yet. He’s not the type for marriage. I’m not the type for marriage. I…”
She trails off, and Maura cocks her head. “You what?”
Alex shakes her head slowly. “I was going to say I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with somebody, but with Trevor… you know, with Trevor, maybe I can.”
It’s a strange feeling to acknowledge - almost like freefalling - and although it’s extremely unsettling, it’s not entirely bad. Maura’s beaming at her like a blonde Cheshire Cat and she suddenly feels silly for taking this long to realize quite how deep her feelings go.
“What time are you supposed to meet him?”
“Um…” Alex checks the sterling silver wristwatch her parents had given her as a present for graduating law school. It’s a little out of date now, style-wise, but she loves it all the same. “He said he’d be done in an hour. Possibly sooner.”
Maura prods her gently in the shoulder. “Go and surprise him. Be waiting for him when he gets out. Go tell him how you feel.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Come on, I doubt it’ll backfire. He’s obviously smitten with you. He’s taking you to Davio’s, for God’s sake.”
Alex grins and reaches for her coat.
--
Alex is virtually certain that a proposal is not on the agenda, but Maura’s right - she and Trevor have been together a while now, so maybe the whole proper commitment thing isn’t as far off as she’d thought. She walks the few blocks to his office in record time with a bounce in her step, heels clicking on the sidewalk, and the receptionist recognizes her and waves her in.
“You can go straight through, Ms. Cabot. I don’t think Mr. Langan was expecting you this early, but he finished his meeting a little while ago.”
Alex’s smile falters slightly at her words. Trevor had definitely told her it’d be at least another half an hour before he was done and hadn’t called to let her know otherwise, but she doesn’t allow herself to think too much about it as she slips off her jacket to reveal a simple black dress with a plunging neckline. She has such a good feeling about tonight, and she can’t wait to see him outside of work and have an evening all to themselves. In addition to her anticipation of dining at one of Boston’s most upscale restaurants, an added bonus is that she wiped the floor with him in court a few days before, so their after-dinner activities are sure to involve him absolutely dominating her in the bedroom.
She hears the clunk of something falling off his perennially over-cluttered desk and smiles to herself. He’s as messy as she is neat, but she loves him for it. She mentally prepares a witty comment as she pushes open the door, but it dies in her throat when she sees Trevor with his pants down, buried to the hilt between a pair of shapely, toned legs that are very much not her own.
It takes a second for her to process what she’s seeing because the scene is just so goddamn unbelievable, but there he is - her Trevor - pumping in and out of this… this whore spread across his desk, his fingers tangled in her hair like he’s done with Alex so many times. Judging by the grunts he’s making he’s getting pretty close, but Alex doesn’t care a whit as she growls out, “What the hell?”
Trevor’s head snaps up as his hips buck forward, pushing him over the edge, and he looks at her in frozen horror as his body shudders through the most miserable release of his life. They stare at each other for a second, unblinking, and then Alex turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
--
It isn’t until she’s about halfway back to her condo that Alex starts to take stock of where she is. She doesn’t remember leaving the building at all, doesn’t know how she got here, although of course she must have walked. The night air makes her shiver and she realizes she left her coat back at the office, but she’s not going back now. She’s not going back ever.
The worst part is, she knew that girl. Clarissa or Karissa, Marissa… something… because Trevor had actually had the gall to introduce them the last time she’d been at the office. The girl was his intern of all things, Lewinskying him for God only knows how long. Alex is so angry she sees spots in front of her eyes, and the blood coursing through her veins is fueled by anger and embarrassment.
It isn’t until after she storms up to the second floor, slams the door of Unit C and kicks off her heels in a rage that she finally dissolves into tears.
--
Jane Rizzoli has honestly had it with women. She’s said it before, but this time she means it. She’s done with the dishonesty, over the drama, and especially sick of the goddamn mind games, and while it may not be the first time she’s made this declaration, this time - this time, she’s done for good. In fact, she’s so done that the idea of a heterosexual fling crosses her mind (she has no shortage of male admirers) but then she almost throws up in her mouth a little and decides to just not seek out a relationship for a while instead.
“I’m seriously - I’m done,” she announces to the closest person in earshot, which happens to be the unfortunate Detective Munch at the next desk over. He gazes at her balefully like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.
“I take it your phone call didn’t go as planned,” he says laconically, and she glares daggers at him in reply. “If it helps, you’re preaching to the converted. As a man on the wrong side of three marriages and three very expensive divorce settlements, I feel qualified to say this: no good can ever come from women.” He slides his eyes over to the desk across from his, where an irritated-looking Detective Benson is raising an eyebrow. “Present company excepted, of course.”
Olivia narrows her eyes. “Nice save, John,” she says sarcastically before casting her gaze to Jane. “More girl trouble?”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Jane laments, exhaling loudly.
Olivia makes a sympathetic noise. “Wanna have drinks after work?”
“My place or yours?”
--
They decide on Jane’s apartment simply because it’s closer, and Jane still has leftover margarita mix from their girls’ night the previous month. They invite a mutual friend - Serena Southerlyn, the D.A. for their unit - and make a pact to enjoy an evening free of relationship talk (which of course is broken within the first hour, as these things often are).
“I just don’t understand,” Serena begins, pushing back an errant strand of long blonde hair as she firmly tucks the paper parasol from her second margarita behind her right ear, “why in a city this densely populated, there is not one intelligent, beautiful -”
“Non-crazy,” Jane chips in.
“Non-closeted,” Olivia adds, and Jane groans in agreement.
“Single gay woman,” Serena finishes. “I mean, seriously. Where are they all hiding? Not bars…”
Jane chuckles. “Definitely not online dating sites…”
“And absolutely nowhere else we’d ever think to look.” Olivia sighs morosely. “You’re right, ‘Rena. They say, what, ten percent of the population is gay? Where the hell are the rest of us? Or is what we’ve come across all there is?”
Serena tucks her legs underneath her, leaning against the arm of Jane’s couch. “Maybe there’s like, a little island somewhere where ninety-five percent of the people are gay, and sane, and waiting to commit to us, just to make up for the slim pickings we have around here.”
Jane sighs. “Fuck. Take me there.”
Serena chuckles. “Breaking your vow of celibacy already, huh?”
Olivia frowns, suddenly serious, and Jane taps her on the knee.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Olivia replies slowly, shaking her head. “I was just thinking - that’s not a bad idea.”
Serena quirks an eyebrow. “Reneging on her self-imposed nun status, or banishing gays to a little island somewhere? Because honey, last time I checked, this country was a little past enforcing segregation.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Olivia sets her glass on the table and reclines on the couch where Serena’s sitting while Jane watches in amusement from the armchair. Olivia can get a little touchy-feely when she’s had a couple of drinks, and tonight is no exception. She plops her head down on Serena’s lap and Serena, likewise amused, begins to lightly run her fingers through the other woman’s hair.
“I mean… maybe you should get away, Jane. Take a vacation. For Christmas.”
“For Christmas?! Olivia, do you have any idea how intense my family gets about Christmas? The last time we weren’t all together over the holidays was… never.”
“That’s what I’m saying! Do something different. Get out of town, shake your life up a bit, have a change of pace. Come back Christmas Eve or something if you don’t want to be away from them, but you never know what - or who - you’ll find until you put yourself out there.”
“I’m done with women,” Jane maintains mulishly, but Olivia just smiles.
--
A couple of hours later, both Olivia and Serena are passed out on Jane’s couch, cuddled in each other’s arms and looking for all the world like lovers. They’re Jane’s two very best friends in the world but the trio’s friendship is strictly that, with none of them harboring feelings for either of the others, and sometimes Jane thinks it’s a shame but mostly she’s grateful for it. If two of them paired up then the third would be left out, and that would just be terrible regardless of who the couple was.
With a sigh, she grabs her laptop from the desk beside her and pulls up Google on her Internet browser. After a moment’s pause for thought, she searches “paradise getaways” and clicks the first link.
Serving couples nationwide, Paradise Getaways designs and plans honeymoons, destination weddings
and romantic getaways to the Caribbean, Mexico and Hawaii. If you are getting married, celebrating an
anniversary, or just need a romantic getaway, look no further.
Jane makes a face and clicks Backspace, scanning the line of ads at the side of the search results. Romantic weekend getaway, Romantic inn in Maine - God, when did getting away from it all become something to only do in pairs?
She’s about to give up when her cursor hovers over an ad at the bottom of the page that reads Home exchange. Interest piqued, she clicks the link.
Home Exchange is the vacation alternative where you stay in my house and I stay in yours.
Live like a local, not a tourist!
A vacation anywhere in the world doesn’t have to cost any more than staying at home!
Jane laughs to herself. As much as she’d like to jet off to the Gold Coast or a Caribbean island, she has a budget to consider here. A little reluctantly, she limits the postings to U.S.-only. As long as she gets out of the city, she’ll be fine.
“Converted barn in northern Vermont…” she murmurs, reading out loud. “Idyllic setting… 12 acres of land… 40 miles from the nearest store?! Next.” Pause. “Alabama? Holy Republicans, Batman. Fuck, no.”
Olivia stirs a little at the noise, and Jane claps her hand over her mouth until she’s reasonably sure it’s safe to continue, albeit more quietly.
“Upscale condominium in Boston’s quiet Back Bay neighborhood… Minutes away from bustling Tremont St. and just a ten-minute walk to the Common… You’ll fall in love with the cobblestone sidewalks and quaint brick buildings.”
Jane clicks on the pictures section of the listing with mild trepidation, but what she sees makes her gasp. The outside view of the building makes it look like the brownstones on the Upper East Side or the classier parts of Brooklyn. It’s nice on the inside too, with a kitchenette, bedroom, bathroom, and multipurpose dining and living space, the walls a classic magnolia accented with bright splashes of artwork.
“Where do I sign up?”
--
Alex had posted her condo on homeexchange.com totally on a whim, her only knowledge of the site based on the faint memory of a conversation she’d overheard between colleagues at the D.A.’s office, but she’d decided to go for it. The normally poised, cooler-than-ice A.D.A had spent the past few hours curled up under a blanket, alternately sobbing and ignoring Trevor’s phone calls, and she’d determined that if she wanted to get her sanity back, she needed to get away to do it.
She doesn’t think her place looks that great in the grand scheme of things, so when an e-mail pops up in her inbox she has to take a second to process it. The woman’s name is Jane, and she’s wondering if Alex has AIM.
acabot723: Hello, this is Alex.
acabot723: (With the condo.)
rizzkissedagirl0810: well, hello Alex-with-the-condo.
rizzkissedagirl0810: i’m Jane. with an apartment, but that doesn’t sound as catchy.
Alex laughs in spite of herself.
acabot723: So where do you live, Jane-with-the-apartment?
rizzkissedagirl0810: Manhattan.
New York? Alex can deal with that. She can definitely deal with that. Despite being the biggest city in New England, Boston is too laid-back for what she’s looking for right now, and it doesn’t get busier and more bustling than the Big Apple itself. Sounds like the perfect distraction.
rizzkissedagirl0810: i gotta tell you, your place looks idyllic... exactly what i need.
acabot723: Boston’s pretty quiet, especially compared to somewhere like NYC. Looking for a change?
rizzkissedagirl0810: exactly.
Alex smiles at the screen.
acabot723: Me too.
acabot723: What does your apartment look like?
rizzkissedagirl0810: it’s nice. a little bigger than yours from what i can tell. i kinda sank a buncha money into it in lieu of a stable girlfriend to spoil.
There’s a pause because Alex isn’t quite sure what to say, but then she sees that Jane’s typing again.
rizzkissedagirl0810: do you mind that i’m gay?
“Um…” Alex leans away from the computer, re-crosses her legs, rubs her eyes, and reads Jane’s question over.
acabot723: Why would I care about that? You’ll be living in my condo, not proposing to me.
rizzkissedagirl0810: some people would. figured i’d give you fair warning.
rizzkissedagirl0810: so when can i come?
Alex likes this woman, or at least what she knows of her. Perhaps it’s silly to make such a snap judgment, but she’d trust Jane to look after her place, she thinks. And she badly needs to get the hell out of Boston.
acabot723: Tomorrow too soon?
She wonders how the question comes across - whether the other woman will think she’s serious or just kidding. Traveling can be expensive at this time of year, especially last-minute, and not everyone has their boss on their back encouraging them to take their first vacation in years. Alex squeezes her eyes shut until she hears the chime of the instant messaging service. When she opens them, she can barely believe what she’s reading.
rizzkissedagirl0810: tomorrow sounds perfect!
--
Alex barely sleeps a wink that night, but she’s glad for the distraction of cleaning the condo because it keeps the mental images of Trevor and that intern at bay. The wood floors sparkle with polish, there’s not a single dust mote on any of the windowsills, and every wall hanging has been straightened to within an inch of its life. She has an outfit packed for every day, enough pairs of pants to go with everything, and a couple of oversized nightshirts for good measure (although the old shirt of Trevor’s remains firmly at the bottom of her dresser drawer). By the time the cab comes to take her to Logan Airport, she’s in good enough spirits to write a chipper “Welcome home, Jane!” on the magnetic Post-Its on her fridge.
--
“You’re… wait, you’re what?”
Serena’s hair is mussed and tangled, and there’s a strand sticking up at an angle that makes Jane want to laugh.
“I’m driving to Boston,” she says instead.
Olivia puts her hands over her face and yawns. “How much did I drink last night?” She gives her head a brusque shake as if to bring herself to her senses, then looks over at Jane. “Why?”
“For a home exchange,” Jane responds nonchalantly. “I met this woman - Alex - and we both need to get away, so… today it is.”
“Sweetheart…” Olivia’s staring at her like she’s lost her mind. “Not to burst your bubble, but this sounds like a sexual predator’s dream. How do you know this Alex isn’t actually a guy who’ll be waiting to burst out of a back bedroom and rape you as soon as you get there?”
“Because she’ll be coming here? You’ll get to meet her. This is where she’ll be staying for the next two weeks.”
Serena and Olivia exchange incredulous glances, and Jane can’t help but crack up.
--
Half an hour later, the three women are dressed for the day and looking decidedly less disheveled. Olivia leans against the island in the middle of Jane’s kitchen, nursing a hot cup of coffee as Jane and Serena sit opposite and split a slice of toast.
“If you’re seriously going to do this, at least let one of us be here when she arrives. We should run her through the database - check her for priors.”
Jane rolls her eyes. “She’s an A.D.A.”
Serena drops her toast butter-side down, then hastily grabs a napkin. “And you didn’t think it was pertinent to inform me?!”
“It was more fun seeing you freak out about what ungodly side of the tracks she was from, to be honest.”
“Jane…” Serena’s trying to look angry, but Jane’s known her long enough to tell when she’s faking. She sighs. “What did you say her name was?”
“Uh… Cabot. Alexandra Cabot.”
Serena’s eyebrows shoot up.
“You know her?” Jane queries.
“I’m not completely sure she’s the person I’m thinking of, but if she is…” Serena shakes her head and utters a low whistle.
“…Is she gay?” Jane and Olivia ask in the same breath.
“As far as I know, she’s straight as an arrow.”
“Damn it.”
--
Alex hasn’t been to New York in a while. Her parents took her a couple of times when she was still in grade school, and once some of her Harvard friends decided it would be cool to be in Times Square at New Year’s (it wasn’t; just slushy and freezing and very, very crowded), but she’s never been alone in the city before, free to explore as she wishes.
She takes a cab from JFK and can’t help but hang out of the window, gazing at the lights and brilliance of downtown. The possibilities here seem endless. She could take in a Broadway show, go shopping at Bloomingdales, wander through Central Park with a steaming cup of Starbucks hot chocolate. She doesn’t realize they’re on Jane’s street until the cab slows down in front of what must be the apartment building, so she pays the driver and just stands there on the sidewalk for a minute, gazing up through the light snow flurries at what is to be her home for the next two weeks.
Presently she sees movement through the windows of the front door, and when she focuses she can make out the slender form of a woman descending the staircase. She assumes it’s a resident who happens to be leaving until the woman opens the door and asks “Alex?”
“Um… yeah,” Alex replies, surprised to find anyone here who knows her name. “Jane? I thought you said you were going to leave a few hours ago.”
“She did. I’m her friend, Olivia.” The woman flashes the badge at her hip. “And I’m a member of New York’s finest, ma’am, so don’t be afraid to follow me upstairs.” She winks, holding the door open, and Alex laughs and steps inside.
--
Jane’s apartment is lovely. There’s a terracotta-painted focal wall behind the fireplace, and the couch cushions are all varying shades of brown and burnt orange, giving the place a very autumnal feel. The scented candle burning on the coffee table enhances the room’s already warm glow, making it smell heavenly - so much so that Alex forgets she has company and drops her bags to close her eyes and just inhale.
She feels self-conscious when she remembers Olivia’s presence, but when she opens her eyes the other woman is standing at her side with a smile on her face.
“I told Jane the candle would be a wise investment. We ran to the store this morning and grabbed a few things to make the place feel more homely.”
Alex unwraps the scarf from around her neck and hangs it on the coat peg by the door before shrugging off her jacket. “Well, you did a fantastic job. It’s beautiful.”
Olivia beams, and it’s probably just the room’s lighting but Alex can almost swear there’s a hint of a blush dusting the brunette’s high cheekbones.
“So, hey.” Olivia gestures to the kitchen. “Let me show you where everything is.”
--
Ten minutes later and the women top off their tour of the apartment by nestling on Jane’s couch with cups of tea in matching mugs.
“So Jane says you work for the D.A.?”
“Mmmhm.” Alex blows gently on her tea before taking a cursory sip. “Homicide division. You?”
“SVU.”
“Oh, God.” Alex sets the mug down on the table and hugs her knees to her chest. “Rape victims?”
“Alive and dead,” Olivia says lightly, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that belays her cool demeanor. “Also cases involving children and the elderly.”
Alex doesn’t know what to say. As insensitive as it sounds, in a way she’s grateful that the victims she has to deal with are corpses. She doesn’t know how she’d even begin to handle a live vic struggling with the level of trauma incurred from a violent assault - especially a rape.
“But let’s not talk about work anymore, okay?” Olivia says, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
Her voice is soft, and Alex takes the first chance she’s had since they met to really properly look at the other woman. Olivia’s wearing faded blue jeans and barely a lick of makeup - maybe some mascara and a little blush, if Alex squints - but she looks unfairly beautiful. Her chestnut hair appears from its styling to once have been cropped boy-short, but has now grown out enough to fall over her ears in gentle waves. In addition to the jeans, she’s dressed casually in a men’s style button-down that’s sufficiently loose as to not hug the curves of her hips, yet tight enough to fall taut across the swell of her breasts. There’s a hint of cleavage exposed - nothing improprietous, but just tantalizing enough to make Alex falter for a second.
“…Go ahead,” Alex responds a little belatedly.
“Why don’t you have an accent like Matt Damon?”
Alex nearly chokes on her tea as the unexpected laughter bubbles up in her throat. “Um… we grew up in slightly different areas of Boston,” she explains wryly.
“Ah.” Olivia grins. “I like yours better.”
--
It really doesn’t occur to Alex that Olivia might be gay until the detective makes a passing reference to an ex-girlfriend, and this might sound prejudiced but she doesn’t seem gay so Alex just never considered it. Alex doesn’t have a problem with gay people - never has, doubts she ever will - and she doesn’t want Olivia to feel like some kind of zoo exhibit, it’s just that she’s honestly fascinated. It’s nothing you can tell by looking, and yet this fundamental part of the other woman - who she’s attracted to, who she sleeps with - is somehow so very different. Alex is intrigued by it, and wishes she knew how to ask to hear more.
After Olivia leaves (or Liv, as the other woman insists she call her now that they’ve properly met) Alex wanders through the apartment again, reacquainting herself with her new place of residence. There are some framed photos on Jane’s shelves and if Alex has guessed correctly, the raven-haired beauty common to both family portraits and snapshots with friends must be the woman herself. Jane doesn’t “look” gay either. Kind of tomboyish, maybe, but for a policewoman with two brothers that’s hardly unusual.
She spots Liv in some of the pictures, typically alongside a pretty blonde who often has an arm around her. Alex assumes it’s her girlfriend before deciding it’s probably time to stop snooping and turn out the lights.
--
Jane can’t sleep. She knows it’s silly because it’s not like she’s in the wilderness or anything, but the absence of honking and various other forms of hubbub outside the window is freaking her out. There’s the occasional passing car but aside from that, nothing other than the creaks and groans of the old brownstone settling on its foundations.
Tomorrow - just to reassure herself she’s not missing anything - she’ll hit the gay bars to see how Boston compares to New York.
--
Jane awakens entirely too early in the morning, and the shrill, insistent ringing of the house phone is solely to blame.
“G’morning,” she slurs sleepily into the mouthpiece, mainly just to get the ringing to stop.
“Alex? What’s wrong? Do you have a cold?”
“Uh, no, this is Jane.”
“Oh.” The person on the other end of the line obviously has no clue who she is or what she’s doing there. “Is… is Alex there?”
Jane hauls herself into a sitting position and runs her hands through her curls. “Sorry, who’s this?”
“Maura. From the M.E.’s Office. Her friend?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? About Trevor? She texted me, can you believe that? And in the middle of the night, too. Who texts someone with that kind of news? We’d just discussed how serious they were getting! Ugh, I would’ve woken up if she’d called. I wish she’d just-”
Jane raises her hand in a “slow down” gesture even though the other woman can’t see it. “Wait, wait. I don’t know anything about a Trevor. I don’t even know who Trevor is. I’m her home exchange partner.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s at my apartment in New York.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds.
“Perhaps I ought to call her cell phone.”
--
Jane spends the rest of the day exploring, mainly wandering through the Common and perusing the dusty old bookstores of Beacon Hill. It hasn’t snowed since she got here but it’s thick on the ground, kneaded into a compact blanket by the relentless footfalls of passers-by. She gets dinner for one at a restaurant near the water, looking out across the Charles to the neighboring city of Cambridge. Harvard is there, and MIT, and she’s sure there are others whose names she either can’t remember or never knew. Just on her walk here alone she’d passed Emerson, Suffolk, and Nova Southeastern, and she thinks she remembers reading somewhere that there are more than sixty colleges and universities in the Boston area.
Sometimes she wishes she could have gone to college. As far as her parents knew, she had no interest and that was why she’d joined the Police Academy, but the real reason was that she knew her dad’s plumbing company didn’t make enough to pay tuition and her family would’ve sold everything they had to help her go. She couldn’t let them do that, which was why it had just seemed easier to lie to them.
She takes a different route on the way back to the condo, checking MapQuest on her phone to ensure she doesn’t stray too far off her course, and stumbles upon the kind of bar she’d hoped she’d find here: classy, not too loud, and 99% women, with the notable exception of the burly bouncer at the door. Like she’d told Liv and Serena back in New York, gay bars had proven to be a really shitty place to find anyone looking for a committed relationship, but they’re perfect for seeking out one-night stands and maybe that’s what she needs right now. A change of pace, Liv had said. Something like this would definitely fall into that category, even if it’s not necessarily what her friend had meant. Straightening the lapels of her jacket, Jane takes a deep breath and heads inside.
--
Alex’s first day in New York passes pleasantly enough. She checks out the tree at Rockefeller Center, window-shops on Fifth Avenue, and avoids thinking about Trevor almost completely. A watch in the window of Tiffany’s makes her think of the one she’d been planning to get him for Christmas, but she pushes the association out of her mind almost as soon as it enters.
She keeps her phone on silent all day and that’s a novelty in itself, a strange, almost eerie stillness taking the place of the usual buzzing and ringing. She doesn’t check it at all until twilight, when she’s heading back to Jane’s apartment to go through the detective’s cache of take-out menus and select the most appealing. She’d passed plenty of enticing restaurants but can’t face the idea of going in and requesting a table for one.
Unsurprisingly, there are several missed calls from Trevor that she promptly ignores, but also one from Maura and one from Liv, with whom she’d exchanged numbers in case anything came up with the apartment. She considers calling Maura, but her friend will no doubt want to hear about what happened with Trevor and she just… she can’t right now. She skips to Liv’s number and presses Call.
--
“Hey, Alex, how’s the Big Apple treating you?”
Liv picks up on the second ring, her friendly voice a comfort after such a solitary day. Alex can feel her lips curving up at the corners.
“Quite well so far, thank you,” she responds politely. “How are things with you?”
“Oh, work is pretty crazy, but that’s not unusual. I’m here catching up on some paperwork. Do you have dinner plans?”
Not since the last ones were ruined by the intern, Alex wants to say. “Uh, no. Why, did you have something in mind?”
“There’s a diner a couple blocks from the squad room. How do you feel about meeting me there in, say, an hour?”
“That… actually sounds perfect,” Alex admits, surprised by how much she’s looking forward to it.
“Great,” Liv says warmly. “I’ll see you there.”
--
Alex hasn’t been to a diner in years, so her instinct is to go for the dressier clothing she’d brought with her before she catches herself and rethinks. This isn’t dinner at Davio’s, and she’d probably look out of place eating a burger and fries in a cocktail dress. She deliberates for a second, then opts for a simple white blouse left unbuttoned over a black tank top, paired with boot-cut jeans and black pumps. A little light make up completes the look, and as she gives her hair a quick brush in Jane’s full-length mirror she can’t help but notice feeling happier and more relaxed than she has since this whole Trevor nightmare began.
She makes it to the diner in good time, and the rush of central heating as she steps over the threshold is a welcome respite from the frostbitten outdoors. She spots Liv easily, sitting in a booth and shooting the breeze with a slightly older, somewhat balding man. Liv’s wearing what Alex assumes to be her work clothes - black dress pants, square-heeled boots and a basic blouse - and she looks fantastic.
The detective glances up and waves her over as the man stands up to leave, extending his hand to Alex.
“Elliot Stabler, Olivia’s partner.”
“Alexandra Cabot.” Alex gives him a firm handshake. “Please, don’t leave on my account.”
“Oh, I have a wife and kids to get home to, but thank you.” He winks at Liv. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Liv rolls her eyes. “Say hi to Kathy for me.”
Elliot salutes her and ambles off toward the exit.
“Don’t mind him,” Liv says, turning to Alex. “When I go to dinner with a woman he hasn’t met before, it’s usually a date.”
Alex isn’t sure what to say to that so she settles for “Oh,” embarrassed by how flustered Liv’s comment made her. She knows she must be blushing right now, can actually feel the warmth creeping up her neck to splotch across her cheeks, but Liv doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just pushes a menu towards her and says, “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.”
“Oh, Olivia, I couldn’t possibly -”
“It’s Liv now, remember? And yeah, you can.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Next time’s on you?”
Alex chuckles. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”
--
The bar’s name is Merch, which Jane had been mentally pronouncing like the abbreviation for merchandise until the bartender corrects her, and she feels kind of stupid until the other woman laughs it off with the reassurance of “We get that all the time. It’s Welsh for girl. Can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll get a… Sam Adams, thanks.” It’s not her usual, but hey, when in Boston, do as the Bostonians do.
The bartender’s tall - Jane’s betting around six feet - with a slender build and loose blonde curls that hang to just below her shoulders. There’s a look in her eyes that’s hungry, almost predatory, and she looks Jane up and down appraisingly for a moment before a quick, feral smile indicates her approval.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
Jane raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“The way you carry yourself.” She sets the beer down on the bar and wipes a stripe of warmth through the clouded cold glass before running her fingertip slowly and deliberately down Jane’s wrist. “Stick around for a while, won’t you? We’ll show you how it’s done here.”
“I may just do that,” Jane purrs, trying not to shiver at the cool contact. “But for now…” She tilts her head in the direction of the space cleared between the tables. “The dance floor awaits.”
“You’ll be back,” the bartender says cockily, and damn, Jane hasn’t met someone so unabashedly overconfident in quite a while. It awakens the dominant side of her, tugging at her libido.
“Probably,” she acknowledges, “but only to get a drink for whoever I pick up tonight.”
She can feel the bartender’s fiery gaze boring into her back as she walks away.
--
Jane’s always been the type to let girls come to her rather than making the first move, so when an attractive brunette in business-casual attire comes sidling up, she expects a drink offer or an invitation to dance or something, but certainly not an inquiry about whether she’s a member of cupid4girls.com. Although Jane has posted on many online dating sites, she’s never been recognized from one out of the blue before.
“Uh… I haven’t been active on it in a while, and you’d only have seen me if you were searching the New York City listings, but yeah, I have a profile.”
“I’m in New York a lot on business,” the woman explains. “I’m Katie, otherwise known as katielaw32.”
“Good to meet you, katielaw32,” Jane says wryly. “So, hey, you seem like you’re a regular here - care to, uh… show me the ropes?”
Katie’s eyes twinkle wickedly. “Walk this way.”
--
They’re getting pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor for a club without go-go dancers gyrating on pedestals when Jane feels a flash of cold from the hand Katie had eased under her shirt to grasp her hip with, the other woman’s body undulating insistently against hers. She stiffens and Katie stops, murmuring, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… what is that, a ring or something?”
A wave of tension frissons through Katie’s body just long enough for Jane to pick up on before she gets it under control.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a keepsake. I can take it off if you want.”
“No, wait…” Jane slides her hand down to rest on top of Katie’s, tilting it upwards so she can inspect it. “That’s a wedding ring.”
Katie pulls out of her grasp, looking guilty.
“You’re married?!”
“I… to a woman,” Katie says defensively, but, wow - like that makes it any better? Massachusetts is one of the only goddamn states in the country that will allow her to have a lawfully wedded wife, and this is what she does with that freedom?
“I don’t do shit with married women,” Jane says coldly, and stalks away.
--
It takes about a minute of silence before the blonde from earlier drapes herself across the bar and says silkily, “So that looked like it went well.”
Jane glares at her disparagingly. “You stay out of this. And can you get me another beer, please, uh…?”
“Missi,” she supplies. “Missi with an I. That’s what I go by these days.”
Jane can’t even believe this woman. “Uh, okay, Missi-with-an-I, so what does your birth certificate go by?”
Missi makes a face. “Andrea Kay.”
“…Missi it is, then,” Jane concedes, trying to suppress a chuckle, and the blonde tilts her head and grins, that hunger from earlier back in her eyes.
“And you are?”
“Jane Rizzoli,” Jane shoots back, adding “NYPD” a little smugly.
“A policewoman.” Missi runs her tongue across her lips.
“Detective, actually,” Jane can’t help but boast, slipping her card out of her pocket and handing it flirtatiously across the bar. Missi takes it and fingers the edges.
“You got anywhere to be tonight?”
“Do you think I’d be here if I did?”
Missi sets her glass down in front of her. “Touché.”
And then, just as the conversation seems to be going somewhere, she smirks and peels herself off the bar to attend to another patron, leaving Jane hanging without another word. She doesn’t excuse herself or look back or anything, and before Jane knows it, she’s touching another woman's wrist just like she’d done with Jane.
“Goddamn,” Jane murmurs to herself. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea in the first place - she’s kidding herself if she thinks she can deal with a no-strings arrangement. With a final baleful glance at Missi, she drains her beer and leaves.
--
The pie of the day is blueberry so Alex and Liv get one slice and two spoons, chatting about their jobs and the trials that come with them. Liv’s never quite got comfortable with testifying in court, while handling a living witness to a homicide has always been difficult for Alex.
“I don’t think my mother would sleep a wink if I had your job,” Alex tells her laughingly. “She worries enough every time a case comes along involving the Irish mob. She thinks they’re gonna put a hit out on me.”
“They might if you do your job well enough,” Liv retorts, only half joking, and when Alex glances up from her plate it’s like the other woman’s whole face is different. “My mother used to worry too,” she goes on softly, and oh. Oh, God.
“Is she - I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
Liv shrugs. “At least she died proud of me. She knew it was because of her that I got into this line of work and helped so many people.”
Alex is quiet, listening. It’s insane how the tone of the conversation changed so quickly, but she senses that if she doesn’t interrupt, Liv might continue.
“I don’t usually come out and tell people this right off the bat, but. Almost forty years ago, she got raped, and…” Liv spreads her hands, palms-upward. “Here I am.”
There’s a horrible silence after Liv’s admission, and the words hit Alex with all the force of a speeding train. It’s hard to wrap her mind around it, that this confident, caring, beautiful woman was born of an attack so violent and ugly. There are no tears in Olivia’s eyes, just a quiet, tortured acceptance, but Alex’s vision grows blurry before she can help herself. The recent events in her life must be starting to take their toll on her, but she feels embarrassed by her display of emotion anyway.
“Hey, Alex, c’mon. Don’t. You don’t have to get upset over this.” Liv grabs a couple of paper napkins out of the dispenser on their table and hands them to Alex with a concerned look on her face.
“I’m fine, I promise,” Alex manages, dabbing at her eyes and doing her best to pull herself together. “It’s just been a stressful few days, that’s all. I needed to get away, and there’s, um. Some stuff I have to deal with…” She frowns at her own vagueness. If Liv can be honest about being a product of rape, she should be able to go into more detail about her relationship issues, but she’s not ready to refer to Trevor as an ex yet and doesn’t know how else to explain it. “I just haven’t quite figured out how to.”
Liv rests her hand on top of Alex’s, giving it a light squeeze. “You know part of my training was learning how to listen, right? This job isn’t all running around with my gun drawn, flashing my badge at people and telling them to freeze.”
Alex laughs in spite of herself. “I do know. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Liv says kindly. “Now, let’s get you home.”
--
It’s snowing by the time they get back to the apartment, and as Liv walks Alex to the door she warns her to be careful of the ice that can form on the front steps in this kind of weather.
“We’ll make plans later in the week?” she asks hopefully as Alex gets her keys out, and Alex turns to her and smiles.
“Bet on it.” There’s an awkward silence for a second as they stand there just staring at each other, and then before she knows it she’s continuing, “Liv, I’ve never done this before and now is probably a really bad time in my life to be making these kinds of decisions, but… Don’t say anything for a second, okay?”
“Okay…” Liv replies uncertainly, and Alex takes a deep breath and kisses her.
--
“Jesus fuck,” Jane exhales in irritation as she tries the wrong key in the door of Alex’s condo again. After two more attempts she successfully locates the right one and storms inside in annoyance. She’s really just sick of girls and their bullshit, and although she’d kind of been joking about celibacy before, it truly is beginning to seem like her best option. She’s about to start her regular cooling-off ritual of channel-flipping to the most ridiculous thing she can find and seeing how long she can stand to watch it when she feels a vibration at her hip and looks down to find her cell phone ringing. She glares at it murderously until she sees Liv’s name on the Caller ID.
“Rizzoli,” she says lightly, because it pisses Liv off when she knows it’s a friend but answers formally anyway.
“Jane, I messed up.”
Jane freezes. Olivia’s one of the most levelheaded people she knows - when she panics, it’s pretty much a given that whatever went down is nothing short of a full-blown catastrophe. She sits straight down on Alex’s coffee table because it’s the nearest flat surface available, and puts on her best interviewing-grieving-relatives voice before asking, “What happened?”
Liv sighs unhappily. “You know your home… switch… partner… person?”
“Alex? Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“Well, tonight we were at the diner together, and-”
“Shit, Liv, I’m getting another call, hang on.” Jane looks at the display screen of her phone then puts it back against her ear hurriedly. “Gimme a second and I’ll be right back.” She presses a button. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jane, um. It’s Alex.”
“Hey! Is everything okay?”
“Fine!” Alex says quickly - too quickly for it to be true, but Jane really has no business prying if she’s not willing to be upfront about it. “Totally fine.”
“Okay, well, listen, I would love to talk to you about this whole…” She waves her hand in the air, searching for the right adjective before settling on “crazy experience, but I’ve got my friend Liv on the other line and she’s upset about something, so is it okay if I call you back in a little while?”
“You’re talking to Liv?” Alex’s voice sounds suddenly different now, more raw, yet at the same time there’s an added sense of guardedness. “Is… she okay?”
“You met, I take it? I told her she didn’t need to babysit my apartment until you got there, but she’s not the kinda person who’ll usually take no for an answer. And, uh, I don’t know - we’d just started talking when you called.”
“Oh. Well, can you find out how she’s doing for me?”
Jane raises her eyebrows. “I… how Liv’s doing? Sure. Hold on one second.” She presses the button again. “Liv?”
“Yeah, so anyway-”
“I have Alex on the other line and she’s wondering how you’re doing.”
Dead silence.
“She’s wondering what?” Liv hedges, but Jane’s having none of it.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but - oh, God, wait. You did not.”
Liv wisely elects to stay silent.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“Of course not!” Liv says indignantly. “We just kissed. She kissed me, Jane. I wasn’t expecting it. How was I supposed to-”
“Olivia…” Jane stands up from the coffee table and paces the condo, absently twirling a lock of hair around the index finger of her free hand. “This is a really bad idea.”
“I know.”
“We said no more women who aren’t out.”
“I know!” Liv wails.
Jane’s voice softens. “So where do you want to go from here?”
“I’m not sure. Did she say anything about it?”
“Oh, Jesus, I forgot she was on the other line, Liv - one minute.” She lowers the phone from her ear and presses a button. “Alex? You still there?”
“Mmhm.” Alex’s voice sounds quavery, like she’s scared or just been crying or both.
“Liv’s fine, okay? She’s more worried about you.”
“Me? Did she… what did she tell you?”
“Enough,” Jane says gently, and Alex groans. “Just… take a couple days to think about all this, okay? She’ll give you as much time as you need, so don’t worry about her. She’s one of the good ones.”
“Okay,” Alex replies in a small voice. She feels very unlike herself right now, unsure the authoritative A.D.A. with complete command over a courtroom even exists inside of her at this point in time. “You know… I came here to get away from relationship drama. I’m not sure how I managed to embroil myself in more of it.”
“Well, girls have a way of being complicated,” Jane responds wryly. “Call me whenever, okay?”
“I will. Goodnight, Jane. Thank you.”
“Anytime. I mean it.” Jane hangs up with Alex, blows her bangs off her face and flips call-waiting back to Liv. “Okay, continue.”
“I basically told you all of it, just… where the fuck do I go from here, Jane? I like her - a lot - but I wasn’t expecting to get her. You know? Serena said she was straight.”
Sometimes Jane thinks she and her friends should write a soap opera about the trials and tribulations they face on a daily basis. They could call it Gays of Our Lives or some shit. It’d be a big hit, she’s sure of it. She frowns down at a squeaky floorboard in Alex’s living room.
“Just, uh… give her a couple of days, yeah? I’m not sure how much she told you, but a friend of hers called here earlier and I kinda inferred from the conversation that she’s going through a breakup.”
Liv’s quiet for a second, then paraphrases slowly, “…So what you’re telling me is that she’s rebounding? And that’s on top of me probably being her first lesbian experiment?”
Jane winces. “That would seem to be the situation, yeah.”
“Well, son of a bitch.”
--
They all lie low for a few days: Alex avoiding Liv, Liv avoiding Alex, and Jane avoiding the entire section of Boston above the Back Bay area. Alex finally calls Maura, explaining some things but leaving out others, while Liv spills every sordid detail to Serena. And as for Jane… Jane decides to go grocery shopping, because she misses her mom’s cooking even more than she expected and figures a good session in the kitchen might help snap her out of her funk.
Truth be told, she’s pretty strongly considering going home early. She’s staying at a lovely place in a lovely neighborhood, but it was stupid to think that temporarily relocating would change anything. It’d be easy to leave whenever she wanted - no plane tickets to book, just jumping in her car and heading back down the highway to her parents’ house in Queens - but for some reason something inside her is telling her to stick it out for another couple of days.
She’s at a grocery store in the shadow of the Prudential Center trying to figure out where the hell to find the pasta sauce when she turns around and promptly ploughs into Missi.
--
Maddeningly, Missi looks as put-together and unruffled as ever, which only serves to fluster Jane even more.
“Guess I never know where you’re gonna show up next,” Missi drawls, then inquires “You coming to the club tonight?” like nothing had even happened.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Jane responds flatly.
Missi looks surprised. “No, actually. It was fun watching your exploits with Boston’s most prolific adultress. I figured you might wanna play again.”
“Uh, strangely enough, no.”
“Not even if I give you a little incentive?”
Jane scowls. She knows this conversation is probably going to lead to nothing but trouble, but her curiosity gets the best of her. She is a detective, after all. “What kind of incentive?” she queries in spite of herself.
Missi smiles, slips past Jane (and really, it’s not that narrow of an aisle - there’s no need to get quite so intimate), and whispers in her ear, “The kind that’ll make it worth your while.”
Jane hates girls. She really does.
--
Alex’s second full day in New York really isn’t that different from her first, except now she has two things not to think about rather than just one. She watches speed chess in Central Park until her lips turn blue, then ducks into Saks to buy a couple of outfits she really doesn’t need. And just like the day before, she has three missed calls from Trevor and one from Maura, but unlike the previous day, the Medical Examiner is first on her list.
Over the rest of the week, it’s only the two of them who try to contact her, which bothers her more than she’ll admit. It’s funny - she’d almost be less hurt if Trevor stopped calling rather than Liv, which doesn’t make any sense at all. She tries taking her mind off things with an open-top bus tour, and makes a point of going to check out the Manhattan County Courthouse. It’s a lot more impressive-looking than the one in Boston, and she tries to imagine scaling its grand staircase every day in heels.
The day after her courthouse adventure there’s supposed to be a snowstorm, so she battens down the hatches and stays inside. Somewhere between The Wendy Williams Show and a rerun of an old crime procedural, she realizes she never turned her phone on silent and somehow can’t bring herself to do so. She glances at it forlornly every so often, but hears nothing from Liv, who she should probably start thinking of as “Olivia” again because she doubts they’ll stay friends after this.
She stares at the TV screen for a while, trying to pay attention but ultimately stewing in her own thoughts. When Trevor calls, she picks up.
--
Jane’s really not sure what she’s doing back at Merch. The music’s pounding and she’s standing in the doorway feeling terribly displaced, watching Missi tend bar until the other woman glances up and waves her over. Tonight she’s wearing a black vest with nothing underneath it, displaying slim, toned arms and a hint of cleavage, and she winks as Jane approaches.
“Long time no see,” she cracks, and Jane rolls her eyes. “What can I get you? Your usual?”
Jane laughs. “You say that like this isn’t only my second time here, but, yeah. Sure. My usual.”
“Be right back,” Missi purrs, and Jane surreptitiously checks out her ass as she bends to grab a bottle out of the fridge behind the bar. By the time the other woman resurfaces, however, her gaze has wandered to the girls on the dance floor. Without warning, Missi presses the cold bottle into her hand and she gasps, turning sharply.
“Uh, thanks,” she manages, a little breathless, and Missi makes a shooing motion.
“Go play. Come back around two if you want your incentive.”
“…I thought this place closed at two,” Jane says slowly, frowning.
Missi grins mischievously. “Exactly.”
--
Jane dances with a few girls, strikes up a couple of decent conversations and even buys someone a cosmo, but there’s no-one she’s seriously into and she doesn’t think anybody’s seriously into her - which is probably preferable, because for some reason her thoughts keep wandering back to the woman at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Missi watching her from time to time and tries to ignore the electric thrill that burgeons in her chest.
It’s so different coming to a club like this alone. Normally Liv and Serena are her “wingwomen,” so she rationalizes that she’s merely taking comfort in having someone she knows close at hand, even if it’s just a bartender she’s met twice before. In a city of strangers, she’ll take what she can get.
--
Around ten minutes to closing time, Jane sidles over to the bar and perches on a stool at one end of it. It’s last call and Missi’s rushed off her feet, but when she looks up and sees Jane, she smiles. The patrons start to trickle out slowly, and at a few minutes after two she begins upending barstools to give the remaining ones the hint. Jane’s still sitting, feeling awkward, and a couple of the stragglers look at her weirdly but Missi shows no signs of noticing. When the last one leaves, she tells the bouncer he’s free to go before directing her attention towards Jane.
“How are you at lifting chairs?”
“Uh, pretty excellent,” Jane parries. “But I don’t work for nothing.”
“You won’t be,” Missi says mysteriously before gesturing to a corner of the room. “You can start over there.”
--
Jane really doesn’t know how she got herself into this. She hasn’t done menial labor since she was still in high school, helping her father lug boxes of plumbing parts to and from his van. When he’d take her on jobs in the summertime and on weekends, she’d hand him j-traps and p-traps and all manner of fittings, some of which she still can’t tell apart to this day. Sometimes she’d just pick something that looked cool and he’d either accept it or hand it back with a reproachful look on his face. He paid her in candy or cassette tapes, slipping her a ten dollar bill once in a while, but somehow Jane doesn’t think that’s quite what Missi has in mind.
She wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve after the last chair is lifted. “Now what?”
Missi pokes her head out of the store room behind the bar. “Now comes the fun part.”
She’s holding a crate in her hand, and Jane eyes it suspiciously. “And what might that be? Weight-lifting martini mix?”
Missi giggles - straight up giggles - and she’s always been so suave that it takes Jane by surprise. “No, the box has nothing to do with it. C’mere. I’ll go put it down.”
She disappears into the recesses of the store room, which is either very large or very dark, because Jane can’t make out the other woman’s silhouette at all. She steps in haltingly.
“Aren’t there any lights in here?”
“There are,” comes Missi’s voice, purring close to her ear, “but I figured we’d have more fun without them.”
Before Jane has time to process this, Missi’s hand is at the waistband of her jeans, slipping inside and pressing her back against the wall. Missi’s teeth sink into her neck and she moans, knowing that’ll leave a mark well into the morning. She grabs at Missi’s hair, weaving it through her fingers, and then it’s Missi’s turn to make a noise before Jane tugs her head up and presses their lips together.
They battle for dominance, both refusing to submit, and whenever Jane gets the upper hand Missi moves her fingers and sets her gasping for breath. Jane struggles to retaliate, pressing her thigh against the warmth of Missi’s body, and she can tell when she hits her just right because Missi’s whole body jolts and she bites down on Jane’s lip. They undulate against each other, their only sounds those of soft cries and wet kisses, and when Jane gets close she arches her hips and tightens her grasp on Missi’s hair, sending Missi over the edge simultaneously.
They catch their breaths together in the darkness for a moment before Missi leans across and flips a switch on the wall, bathing them both in harsh, fluorescent lighting that makes Jane squint. Missi’s cheeks are flushed and her hair is a mess; Jane can only imagine what she looks like.
“Worth it?” Missi purrs, and Jane laughs throatily, still getting her breath back.
“I suppose,” she concedes coyly.
Missi laughs and punches her in the shoulder.
---<---<---@
Part Two.
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU/Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: R
Warnings: Het (minor Alexandra Cabot/Trevor Langan), profanity, sexual themes
Pairings: Alexandra Cabot/Olivia Benson, Jane Rizzoli/Merch bartender (Missi)
Word Count: ~19,000
Summary: A detective from Manhattan and an attorney from Boston switch homes for the holidays to take a break from their tumultuous love lives.
Disclaimer: An AU loosely based on Sony Pictures’ “The Holiday.” Alexandra Cabot et al. belong to Dick Wolf; Jane Rizzoli et al. belong to Tess Gerritsen. The title is a lyric from the song “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Buck Ram, Kim Gannon and Walter Kent. You can find the accompanying mix here.
Author’s Notes: As regards the devolution of SVU’s Olivia Benson, my Liv is circa season four. Missi Pyle’s character in “Rizzoli & Isles” episode 1x6, “I Kissed A Girl,” is never mentioned by name and only credited as “Bartender,” thus, for the purposes of this fic, the character’s name is Missi. Additionally, the numbers after Alex and Jane’s AIM usernames are the respective birthdates of actresses Stephanie March and Angie Harmon. *shrug* I have some Wikipedia issues. Also posted here @ my ff.net account. Art by insaneantics21.
---<---<---@
When she looks back on it, Alex will recognize that she should’ve known better. Dating a defense attorney would be considered playing with fire for any prosecutor, but add the fact that it’s Trevor Langan, the dark-haired, dark-eyed kryptonite to Alex’s good judgment, and she’s especially screwed - which, in fact, is part of the problem. There’s just something about fighting it out in court that makes the sex afterwards incredible. In a twisted kind of way their courtroom battles are almost like foreplay, and whenever they spar, one loses and one comes out on top.
So to speak.
Which is why Alex figures she doesn’t have much to worry about when it comes to Trevor. In addition to the sex being fantastic, he wines and dines her when he can, but they’re both busy people with lives outside of each other and she respects that, isn’t nearly as clingy as she imagines most women to be. Their arrangement works for them and that’s why, although she's been around the block enough times to maintain a certain degree of distrust where men are concerned, she kind of feels like somehow she got lucky.
--
The Homicide Unit is having its annual Christmas party and Alex is meant to be going to dinner with Trevor afterwards, which is both a blessing and a curse as she’s ready to leave after fifteen minutes of hobnobbing but knows he has a late meeting that won’t be over for a while. With a sigh, she leans elegantly against a table and tries to look interested in what’s going on around her.
“Are you completely and utterly bored, by any chance?”
Alex jumps at the voice but quickly relaxes when she sees her friend, Maura, standing beside her with a half-full champagne flute. She permits herself a small smile.
“Am I that obvious, Doctor?”
Maura shrugs sunnily and gives her typical overly scientific response. “Perhaps not to the casual observer, but I can tell by the slackening of your facial muscles.” She takes a sip from her glass. “Also, you keep looking at your watch.”
Alex hurriedly puts her hand behind her back, feeling sheepish, and Maura laughs gently.
“So where are you in such a hurry to rush off to? Hot date?”
Generally Alex doesn’t like to share details of her personal life with her colleagues, but Maura has this way about her that makes it impossible not to want to open up. She grins an affirmative, and Maura claps delightedly.
“With Trevor?”
Alex rolls her eyes. “No, with one of my other boyfriends. Of course with Trevor. We’re going to Davio’s.”
“Davio’s.” Maura raises her eyebrows. “Are things getting serious?”
Alex can feel the blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh, well, you know, neither of us really entered into this with that kind of expectation, but…”
“…But?” Maura prompts, eyes wide with excitement.
“But I’m pretty sure we’re heading that way despite ourselves,” she admits shyly, surprised by the thrill of excitement that races up her spine when she voices the feeling aloud for the first time. Things are good, really good, and she’s never been this into somebody before. She’s always told herself she isn’t the type to get committed, but now that she’s teetering on the brink of it, it actually feels pretty great.
Maura squeals happily, getting a faraway look in her eyes that makes Alex nervous.
“Mauraaa,” Alex says sternly. She knows that face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself with this. What are you thinking?”
“Has he ever taken you to Davio’s before?”
“Um…” Alex thinks for a second. “Actually, no. Which is weird because it’s right down the street, but. Why? How is that relevant?”
“Alex…” Maura grabs her hand and squeezes it tight. “Davio’s is a pretty upscale restaurant. People basically only go there for client meetings or special occasions. Do you think tonight… might be the night… when he proposes?”
After a stunned second of silence, Alex barks out a laugh. “No,” she says quickly, and Maura’s face falls. “No, no. We’re not ready for that yet. He’s not the type for marriage. I’m not the type for marriage. I…”
She trails off, and Maura cocks her head. “You what?”
Alex shakes her head slowly. “I was going to say I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with somebody, but with Trevor… you know, with Trevor, maybe I can.”
It’s a strange feeling to acknowledge - almost like freefalling - and although it’s extremely unsettling, it’s not entirely bad. Maura’s beaming at her like a blonde Cheshire Cat and she suddenly feels silly for taking this long to realize quite how deep her feelings go.
“What time are you supposed to meet him?”
“Um…” Alex checks the sterling silver wristwatch her parents had given her as a present for graduating law school. It’s a little out of date now, style-wise, but she loves it all the same. “He said he’d be done in an hour. Possibly sooner.”
Maura prods her gently in the shoulder. “Go and surprise him. Be waiting for him when he gets out. Go tell him how you feel.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Come on, I doubt it’ll backfire. He’s obviously smitten with you. He’s taking you to Davio’s, for God’s sake.”
Alex grins and reaches for her coat.
--
Alex is virtually certain that a proposal is not on the agenda, but Maura’s right - she and Trevor have been together a while now, so maybe the whole proper commitment thing isn’t as far off as she’d thought. She walks the few blocks to his office in record time with a bounce in her step, heels clicking on the sidewalk, and the receptionist recognizes her and waves her in.
“You can go straight through, Ms. Cabot. I don’t think Mr. Langan was expecting you this early, but he finished his meeting a little while ago.”
Alex’s smile falters slightly at her words. Trevor had definitely told her it’d be at least another half an hour before he was done and hadn’t called to let her know otherwise, but she doesn’t allow herself to think too much about it as she slips off her jacket to reveal a simple black dress with a plunging neckline. She has such a good feeling about tonight, and she can’t wait to see him outside of work and have an evening all to themselves. In addition to her anticipation of dining at one of Boston’s most upscale restaurants, an added bonus is that she wiped the floor with him in court a few days before, so their after-dinner activities are sure to involve him absolutely dominating her in the bedroom.
She hears the clunk of something falling off his perennially over-cluttered desk and smiles to herself. He’s as messy as she is neat, but she loves him for it. She mentally prepares a witty comment as she pushes open the door, but it dies in her throat when she sees Trevor with his pants down, buried to the hilt between a pair of shapely, toned legs that are very much not her own.
It takes a second for her to process what she’s seeing because the scene is just so goddamn unbelievable, but there he is - her Trevor - pumping in and out of this… this whore spread across his desk, his fingers tangled in her hair like he’s done with Alex so many times. Judging by the grunts he’s making he’s getting pretty close, but Alex doesn’t care a whit as she growls out, “What the hell?”
Trevor’s head snaps up as his hips buck forward, pushing him over the edge, and he looks at her in frozen horror as his body shudders through the most miserable release of his life. They stare at each other for a second, unblinking, and then Alex turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
--
It isn’t until she’s about halfway back to her condo that Alex starts to take stock of where she is. She doesn’t remember leaving the building at all, doesn’t know how she got here, although of course she must have walked. The night air makes her shiver and she realizes she left her coat back at the office, but she’s not going back now. She’s not going back ever.
The worst part is, she knew that girl. Clarissa or Karissa, Marissa… something… because Trevor had actually had the gall to introduce them the last time she’d been at the office. The girl was his intern of all things, Lewinskying him for God only knows how long. Alex is so angry she sees spots in front of her eyes, and the blood coursing through her veins is fueled by anger and embarrassment.
It isn’t until after she storms up to the second floor, slams the door of Unit C and kicks off her heels in a rage that she finally dissolves into tears.
--
Jane Rizzoli has honestly had it with women. She’s said it before, but this time she means it. She’s done with the dishonesty, over the drama, and especially sick of the goddamn mind games, and while it may not be the first time she’s made this declaration, this time - this time, she’s done for good. In fact, she’s so done that the idea of a heterosexual fling crosses her mind (she has no shortage of male admirers) but then she almost throws up in her mouth a little and decides to just not seek out a relationship for a while instead.
“I’m seriously - I’m done,” she announces to the closest person in earshot, which happens to be the unfortunate Detective Munch at the next desk over. He gazes at her balefully like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.
“I take it your phone call didn’t go as planned,” he says laconically, and she glares daggers at him in reply. “If it helps, you’re preaching to the converted. As a man on the wrong side of three marriages and three very expensive divorce settlements, I feel qualified to say this: no good can ever come from women.” He slides his eyes over to the desk across from his, where an irritated-looking Detective Benson is raising an eyebrow. “Present company excepted, of course.”
Olivia narrows her eyes. “Nice save, John,” she says sarcastically before casting her gaze to Jane. “More girl trouble?”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Jane laments, exhaling loudly.
Olivia makes a sympathetic noise. “Wanna have drinks after work?”
“My place or yours?”
--
They decide on Jane’s apartment simply because it’s closer, and Jane still has leftover margarita mix from their girls’ night the previous month. They invite a mutual friend - Serena Southerlyn, the D.A. for their unit - and make a pact to enjoy an evening free of relationship talk (which of course is broken within the first hour, as these things often are).
“I just don’t understand,” Serena begins, pushing back an errant strand of long blonde hair as she firmly tucks the paper parasol from her second margarita behind her right ear, “why in a city this densely populated, there is not one intelligent, beautiful -”
“Non-crazy,” Jane chips in.
“Non-closeted,” Olivia adds, and Jane groans in agreement.
“Single gay woman,” Serena finishes. “I mean, seriously. Where are they all hiding? Not bars…”
Jane chuckles. “Definitely not online dating sites…”
“And absolutely nowhere else we’d ever think to look.” Olivia sighs morosely. “You’re right, ‘Rena. They say, what, ten percent of the population is gay? Where the hell are the rest of us? Or is what we’ve come across all there is?”
Serena tucks her legs underneath her, leaning against the arm of Jane’s couch. “Maybe there’s like, a little island somewhere where ninety-five percent of the people are gay, and sane, and waiting to commit to us, just to make up for the slim pickings we have around here.”
Jane sighs. “Fuck. Take me there.”
Serena chuckles. “Breaking your vow of celibacy already, huh?”
Olivia frowns, suddenly serious, and Jane taps her on the knee.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Olivia replies slowly, shaking her head. “I was just thinking - that’s not a bad idea.”
Serena quirks an eyebrow. “Reneging on her self-imposed nun status, or banishing gays to a little island somewhere? Because honey, last time I checked, this country was a little past enforcing segregation.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Olivia sets her glass on the table and reclines on the couch where Serena’s sitting while Jane watches in amusement from the armchair. Olivia can get a little touchy-feely when she’s had a couple of drinks, and tonight is no exception. She plops her head down on Serena’s lap and Serena, likewise amused, begins to lightly run her fingers through the other woman’s hair.
“I mean… maybe you should get away, Jane. Take a vacation. For Christmas.”
“For Christmas?! Olivia, do you have any idea how intense my family gets about Christmas? The last time we weren’t all together over the holidays was… never.”
“That’s what I’m saying! Do something different. Get out of town, shake your life up a bit, have a change of pace. Come back Christmas Eve or something if you don’t want to be away from them, but you never know what - or who - you’ll find until you put yourself out there.”
“I’m done with women,” Jane maintains mulishly, but Olivia just smiles.
--
A couple of hours later, both Olivia and Serena are passed out on Jane’s couch, cuddled in each other’s arms and looking for all the world like lovers. They’re Jane’s two very best friends in the world but the trio’s friendship is strictly that, with none of them harboring feelings for either of the others, and sometimes Jane thinks it’s a shame but mostly she’s grateful for it. If two of them paired up then the third would be left out, and that would just be terrible regardless of who the couple was.
With a sigh, she grabs her laptop from the desk beside her and pulls up Google on her Internet browser. After a moment’s pause for thought, she searches “paradise getaways” and clicks the first link.
Serving couples nationwide, Paradise Getaways designs and plans honeymoons, destination weddings
and romantic getaways to the Caribbean, Mexico and Hawaii. If you are getting married, celebrating an
anniversary, or just need a romantic getaway, look no further.
Jane makes a face and clicks Backspace, scanning the line of ads at the side of the search results. Romantic weekend getaway, Romantic inn in Maine - God, when did getting away from it all become something to only do in pairs?
She’s about to give up when her cursor hovers over an ad at the bottom of the page that reads Home exchange. Interest piqued, she clicks the link.
Home Exchange is the vacation alternative where you stay in my house and I stay in yours.
Live like a local, not a tourist!
A vacation anywhere in the world doesn’t have to cost any more than staying at home!
Jane laughs to herself. As much as she’d like to jet off to the Gold Coast or a Caribbean island, she has a budget to consider here. A little reluctantly, she limits the postings to U.S.-only. As long as she gets out of the city, she’ll be fine.
“Converted barn in northern Vermont…” she murmurs, reading out loud. “Idyllic setting… 12 acres of land… 40 miles from the nearest store?! Next.” Pause. “Alabama? Holy Republicans, Batman. Fuck, no.”
Olivia stirs a little at the noise, and Jane claps her hand over her mouth until she’s reasonably sure it’s safe to continue, albeit more quietly.
“Upscale condominium in Boston’s quiet Back Bay neighborhood… Minutes away from bustling Tremont St. and just a ten-minute walk to the Common… You’ll fall in love with the cobblestone sidewalks and quaint brick buildings.”
Jane clicks on the pictures section of the listing with mild trepidation, but what she sees makes her gasp. The outside view of the building makes it look like the brownstones on the Upper East Side or the classier parts of Brooklyn. It’s nice on the inside too, with a kitchenette, bedroom, bathroom, and multipurpose dining and living space, the walls a classic magnolia accented with bright splashes of artwork.
“Where do I sign up?”
--
Alex had posted her condo on homeexchange.com totally on a whim, her only knowledge of the site based on the faint memory of a conversation she’d overheard between colleagues at the D.A.’s office, but she’d decided to go for it. The normally poised, cooler-than-ice A.D.A had spent the past few hours curled up under a blanket, alternately sobbing and ignoring Trevor’s phone calls, and she’d determined that if she wanted to get her sanity back, she needed to get away to do it.
She doesn’t think her place looks that great in the grand scheme of things, so when an e-mail pops up in her inbox she has to take a second to process it. The woman’s name is Jane, and she’s wondering if Alex has AIM.
acabot723: Hello, this is Alex.
acabot723: (With the condo.)
rizzkissedagirl0810: well, hello Alex-with-the-condo.
rizzkissedagirl0810: i’m Jane. with an apartment, but that doesn’t sound as catchy.
Alex laughs in spite of herself.
acabot723: So where do you live, Jane-with-the-apartment?
rizzkissedagirl0810: Manhattan.
New York? Alex can deal with that. She can definitely deal with that. Despite being the biggest city in New England, Boston is too laid-back for what she’s looking for right now, and it doesn’t get busier and more bustling than the Big Apple itself. Sounds like the perfect distraction.
rizzkissedagirl0810: i gotta tell you, your place looks idyllic... exactly what i need.
acabot723: Boston’s pretty quiet, especially compared to somewhere like NYC. Looking for a change?
rizzkissedagirl0810: exactly.
Alex smiles at the screen.
acabot723: Me too.
acabot723: What does your apartment look like?
rizzkissedagirl0810: it’s nice. a little bigger than yours from what i can tell. i kinda sank a buncha money into it in lieu of a stable girlfriend to spoil.
There’s a pause because Alex isn’t quite sure what to say, but then she sees that Jane’s typing again.
rizzkissedagirl0810: do you mind that i’m gay?
“Um…” Alex leans away from the computer, re-crosses her legs, rubs her eyes, and reads Jane’s question over.
acabot723: Why would I care about that? You’ll be living in my condo, not proposing to me.
rizzkissedagirl0810: some people would. figured i’d give you fair warning.
rizzkissedagirl0810: so when can i come?
Alex likes this woman, or at least what she knows of her. Perhaps it’s silly to make such a snap judgment, but she’d trust Jane to look after her place, she thinks. And she badly needs to get the hell out of Boston.
acabot723: Tomorrow too soon?
She wonders how the question comes across - whether the other woman will think she’s serious or just kidding. Traveling can be expensive at this time of year, especially last-minute, and not everyone has their boss on their back encouraging them to take their first vacation in years. Alex squeezes her eyes shut until she hears the chime of the instant messaging service. When she opens them, she can barely believe what she’s reading.
rizzkissedagirl0810: tomorrow sounds perfect!
--
Alex barely sleeps a wink that night, but she’s glad for the distraction of cleaning the condo because it keeps the mental images of Trevor and that intern at bay. The wood floors sparkle with polish, there’s not a single dust mote on any of the windowsills, and every wall hanging has been straightened to within an inch of its life. She has an outfit packed for every day, enough pairs of pants to go with everything, and a couple of oversized nightshirts for good measure (although the old shirt of Trevor’s remains firmly at the bottom of her dresser drawer). By the time the cab comes to take her to Logan Airport, she’s in good enough spirits to write a chipper “Welcome home, Jane!” on the magnetic Post-Its on her fridge.
--
“You’re… wait, you’re what?”
Serena’s hair is mussed and tangled, and there’s a strand sticking up at an angle that makes Jane want to laugh.
“I’m driving to Boston,” she says instead.
Olivia puts her hands over her face and yawns. “How much did I drink last night?” She gives her head a brusque shake as if to bring herself to her senses, then looks over at Jane. “Why?”
“For a home exchange,” Jane responds nonchalantly. “I met this woman - Alex - and we both need to get away, so… today it is.”
“Sweetheart…” Olivia’s staring at her like she’s lost her mind. “Not to burst your bubble, but this sounds like a sexual predator’s dream. How do you know this Alex isn’t actually a guy who’ll be waiting to burst out of a back bedroom and rape you as soon as you get there?”
“Because she’ll be coming here? You’ll get to meet her. This is where she’ll be staying for the next two weeks.”
Serena and Olivia exchange incredulous glances, and Jane can’t help but crack up.
--
Half an hour later, the three women are dressed for the day and looking decidedly less disheveled. Olivia leans against the island in the middle of Jane’s kitchen, nursing a hot cup of coffee as Jane and Serena sit opposite and split a slice of toast.
“If you’re seriously going to do this, at least let one of us be here when she arrives. We should run her through the database - check her for priors.”
Jane rolls her eyes. “She’s an A.D.A.”
Serena drops her toast butter-side down, then hastily grabs a napkin. “And you didn’t think it was pertinent to inform me?!”
“It was more fun seeing you freak out about what ungodly side of the tracks she was from, to be honest.”
“Jane…” Serena’s trying to look angry, but Jane’s known her long enough to tell when she’s faking. She sighs. “What did you say her name was?”
“Uh… Cabot. Alexandra Cabot.”
Serena’s eyebrows shoot up.
“You know her?” Jane queries.
“I’m not completely sure she’s the person I’m thinking of, but if she is…” Serena shakes her head and utters a low whistle.
“…Is she gay?” Jane and Olivia ask in the same breath.
“As far as I know, she’s straight as an arrow.”
“Damn it.”
--
Alex hasn’t been to New York in a while. Her parents took her a couple of times when she was still in grade school, and once some of her Harvard friends decided it would be cool to be in Times Square at New Year’s (it wasn’t; just slushy and freezing and very, very crowded), but she’s never been alone in the city before, free to explore as she wishes.
She takes a cab from JFK and can’t help but hang out of the window, gazing at the lights and brilliance of downtown. The possibilities here seem endless. She could take in a Broadway show, go shopping at Bloomingdales, wander through Central Park with a steaming cup of Starbucks hot chocolate. She doesn’t realize they’re on Jane’s street until the cab slows down in front of what must be the apartment building, so she pays the driver and just stands there on the sidewalk for a minute, gazing up through the light snow flurries at what is to be her home for the next two weeks.
Presently she sees movement through the windows of the front door, and when she focuses she can make out the slender form of a woman descending the staircase. She assumes it’s a resident who happens to be leaving until the woman opens the door and asks “Alex?”
“Um… yeah,” Alex replies, surprised to find anyone here who knows her name. “Jane? I thought you said you were going to leave a few hours ago.”
“She did. I’m her friend, Olivia.” The woman flashes the badge at her hip. “And I’m a member of New York’s finest, ma’am, so don’t be afraid to follow me upstairs.” She winks, holding the door open, and Alex laughs and steps inside.
--
Jane’s apartment is lovely. There’s a terracotta-painted focal wall behind the fireplace, and the couch cushions are all varying shades of brown and burnt orange, giving the place a very autumnal feel. The scented candle burning on the coffee table enhances the room’s already warm glow, making it smell heavenly - so much so that Alex forgets she has company and drops her bags to close her eyes and just inhale.
She feels self-conscious when she remembers Olivia’s presence, but when she opens her eyes the other woman is standing at her side with a smile on her face.
“I told Jane the candle would be a wise investment. We ran to the store this morning and grabbed a few things to make the place feel more homely.”
Alex unwraps the scarf from around her neck and hangs it on the coat peg by the door before shrugging off her jacket. “Well, you did a fantastic job. It’s beautiful.”
Olivia beams, and it’s probably just the room’s lighting but Alex can almost swear there’s a hint of a blush dusting the brunette’s high cheekbones.
“So, hey.” Olivia gestures to the kitchen. “Let me show you where everything is.”
--
Ten minutes later and the women top off their tour of the apartment by nestling on Jane’s couch with cups of tea in matching mugs.
“So Jane says you work for the D.A.?”
“Mmmhm.” Alex blows gently on her tea before taking a cursory sip. “Homicide division. You?”
“SVU.”
“Oh, God.” Alex sets the mug down on the table and hugs her knees to her chest. “Rape victims?”
“Alive and dead,” Olivia says lightly, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that belays her cool demeanor. “Also cases involving children and the elderly.”
Alex doesn’t know what to say. As insensitive as it sounds, in a way she’s grateful that the victims she has to deal with are corpses. She doesn’t know how she’d even begin to handle a live vic struggling with the level of trauma incurred from a violent assault - especially a rape.
“But let’s not talk about work anymore, okay?” Olivia says, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
Her voice is soft, and Alex takes the first chance she’s had since they met to really properly look at the other woman. Olivia’s wearing faded blue jeans and barely a lick of makeup - maybe some mascara and a little blush, if Alex squints - but she looks unfairly beautiful. Her chestnut hair appears from its styling to once have been cropped boy-short, but has now grown out enough to fall over her ears in gentle waves. In addition to the jeans, she’s dressed casually in a men’s style button-down that’s sufficiently loose as to not hug the curves of her hips, yet tight enough to fall taut across the swell of her breasts. There’s a hint of cleavage exposed - nothing improprietous, but just tantalizing enough to make Alex falter for a second.
“…Go ahead,” Alex responds a little belatedly.
“Why don’t you have an accent like Matt Damon?”
Alex nearly chokes on her tea as the unexpected laughter bubbles up in her throat. “Um… we grew up in slightly different areas of Boston,” she explains wryly.
“Ah.” Olivia grins. “I like yours better.”
--
It really doesn’t occur to Alex that Olivia might be gay until the detective makes a passing reference to an ex-girlfriend, and this might sound prejudiced but she doesn’t seem gay so Alex just never considered it. Alex doesn’t have a problem with gay people - never has, doubts she ever will - and she doesn’t want Olivia to feel like some kind of zoo exhibit, it’s just that she’s honestly fascinated. It’s nothing you can tell by looking, and yet this fundamental part of the other woman - who she’s attracted to, who she sleeps with - is somehow so very different. Alex is intrigued by it, and wishes she knew how to ask to hear more.
After Olivia leaves (or Liv, as the other woman insists she call her now that they’ve properly met) Alex wanders through the apartment again, reacquainting herself with her new place of residence. There are some framed photos on Jane’s shelves and if Alex has guessed correctly, the raven-haired beauty common to both family portraits and snapshots with friends must be the woman herself. Jane doesn’t “look” gay either. Kind of tomboyish, maybe, but for a policewoman with two brothers that’s hardly unusual.
She spots Liv in some of the pictures, typically alongside a pretty blonde who often has an arm around her. Alex assumes it’s her girlfriend before deciding it’s probably time to stop snooping and turn out the lights.
--
Jane can’t sleep. She knows it’s silly because it’s not like she’s in the wilderness or anything, but the absence of honking and various other forms of hubbub outside the window is freaking her out. There’s the occasional passing car but aside from that, nothing other than the creaks and groans of the old brownstone settling on its foundations.
Tomorrow - just to reassure herself she’s not missing anything - she’ll hit the gay bars to see how Boston compares to New York.
--
Jane awakens entirely too early in the morning, and the shrill, insistent ringing of the house phone is solely to blame.
“G’morning,” she slurs sleepily into the mouthpiece, mainly just to get the ringing to stop.
“Alex? What’s wrong? Do you have a cold?”
“Uh, no, this is Jane.”
“Oh.” The person on the other end of the line obviously has no clue who she is or what she’s doing there. “Is… is Alex there?”
Jane hauls herself into a sitting position and runs her hands through her curls. “Sorry, who’s this?”
“Maura. From the M.E.’s Office. Her friend?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? About Trevor? She texted me, can you believe that? And in the middle of the night, too. Who texts someone with that kind of news? We’d just discussed how serious they were getting! Ugh, I would’ve woken up if she’d called. I wish she’d just-”
Jane raises her hand in a “slow down” gesture even though the other woman can’t see it. “Wait, wait. I don’t know anything about a Trevor. I don’t even know who Trevor is. I’m her home exchange partner.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s at my apartment in New York.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds.
“Perhaps I ought to call her cell phone.”
--
Jane spends the rest of the day exploring, mainly wandering through the Common and perusing the dusty old bookstores of Beacon Hill. It hasn’t snowed since she got here but it’s thick on the ground, kneaded into a compact blanket by the relentless footfalls of passers-by. She gets dinner for one at a restaurant near the water, looking out across the Charles to the neighboring city of Cambridge. Harvard is there, and MIT, and she’s sure there are others whose names she either can’t remember or never knew. Just on her walk here alone she’d passed Emerson, Suffolk, and Nova Southeastern, and she thinks she remembers reading somewhere that there are more than sixty colleges and universities in the Boston area.
Sometimes she wishes she could have gone to college. As far as her parents knew, she had no interest and that was why she’d joined the Police Academy, but the real reason was that she knew her dad’s plumbing company didn’t make enough to pay tuition and her family would’ve sold everything they had to help her go. She couldn’t let them do that, which was why it had just seemed easier to lie to them.
She takes a different route on the way back to the condo, checking MapQuest on her phone to ensure she doesn’t stray too far off her course, and stumbles upon the kind of bar she’d hoped she’d find here: classy, not too loud, and 99% women, with the notable exception of the burly bouncer at the door. Like she’d told Liv and Serena back in New York, gay bars had proven to be a really shitty place to find anyone looking for a committed relationship, but they’re perfect for seeking out one-night stands and maybe that’s what she needs right now. A change of pace, Liv had said. Something like this would definitely fall into that category, even if it’s not necessarily what her friend had meant. Straightening the lapels of her jacket, Jane takes a deep breath and heads inside.
--
Alex’s first day in New York passes pleasantly enough. She checks out the tree at Rockefeller Center, window-shops on Fifth Avenue, and avoids thinking about Trevor almost completely. A watch in the window of Tiffany’s makes her think of the one she’d been planning to get him for Christmas, but she pushes the association out of her mind almost as soon as it enters.
She keeps her phone on silent all day and that’s a novelty in itself, a strange, almost eerie stillness taking the place of the usual buzzing and ringing. She doesn’t check it at all until twilight, when she’s heading back to Jane’s apartment to go through the detective’s cache of take-out menus and select the most appealing. She’d passed plenty of enticing restaurants but can’t face the idea of going in and requesting a table for one.
Unsurprisingly, there are several missed calls from Trevor that she promptly ignores, but also one from Maura and one from Liv, with whom she’d exchanged numbers in case anything came up with the apartment. She considers calling Maura, but her friend will no doubt want to hear about what happened with Trevor and she just… she can’t right now. She skips to Liv’s number and presses Call.
--
“Hey, Alex, how’s the Big Apple treating you?”
Liv picks up on the second ring, her friendly voice a comfort after such a solitary day. Alex can feel her lips curving up at the corners.
“Quite well so far, thank you,” she responds politely. “How are things with you?”
“Oh, work is pretty crazy, but that’s not unusual. I’m here catching up on some paperwork. Do you have dinner plans?”
Not since the last ones were ruined by the intern, Alex wants to say. “Uh, no. Why, did you have something in mind?”
“There’s a diner a couple blocks from the squad room. How do you feel about meeting me there in, say, an hour?”
“That… actually sounds perfect,” Alex admits, surprised by how much she’s looking forward to it.
“Great,” Liv says warmly. “I’ll see you there.”
--
Alex hasn’t been to a diner in years, so her instinct is to go for the dressier clothing she’d brought with her before she catches herself and rethinks. This isn’t dinner at Davio’s, and she’d probably look out of place eating a burger and fries in a cocktail dress. She deliberates for a second, then opts for a simple white blouse left unbuttoned over a black tank top, paired with boot-cut jeans and black pumps. A little light make up completes the look, and as she gives her hair a quick brush in Jane’s full-length mirror she can’t help but notice feeling happier and more relaxed than she has since this whole Trevor nightmare began.
She makes it to the diner in good time, and the rush of central heating as she steps over the threshold is a welcome respite from the frostbitten outdoors. She spots Liv easily, sitting in a booth and shooting the breeze with a slightly older, somewhat balding man. Liv’s wearing what Alex assumes to be her work clothes - black dress pants, square-heeled boots and a basic blouse - and she looks fantastic.
The detective glances up and waves her over as the man stands up to leave, extending his hand to Alex.
“Elliot Stabler, Olivia’s partner.”
“Alexandra Cabot.” Alex gives him a firm handshake. “Please, don’t leave on my account.”
“Oh, I have a wife and kids to get home to, but thank you.” He winks at Liv. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Liv rolls her eyes. “Say hi to Kathy for me.”
Elliot salutes her and ambles off toward the exit.
“Don’t mind him,” Liv says, turning to Alex. “When I go to dinner with a woman he hasn’t met before, it’s usually a date.”
Alex isn’t sure what to say to that so she settles for “Oh,” embarrassed by how flustered Liv’s comment made her. She knows she must be blushing right now, can actually feel the warmth creeping up her neck to splotch across her cheeks, but Liv doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just pushes a menu towards her and says, “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.”
“Oh, Olivia, I couldn’t possibly -”
“It’s Liv now, remember? And yeah, you can.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Next time’s on you?”
Alex chuckles. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”
--
The bar’s name is Merch, which Jane had been mentally pronouncing like the abbreviation for merchandise until the bartender corrects her, and she feels kind of stupid until the other woman laughs it off with the reassurance of “We get that all the time. It’s Welsh for girl. Can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll get a… Sam Adams, thanks.” It’s not her usual, but hey, when in Boston, do as the Bostonians do.
The bartender’s tall - Jane’s betting around six feet - with a slender build and loose blonde curls that hang to just below her shoulders. There’s a look in her eyes that’s hungry, almost predatory, and she looks Jane up and down appraisingly for a moment before a quick, feral smile indicates her approval.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
Jane raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“The way you carry yourself.” She sets the beer down on the bar and wipes a stripe of warmth through the clouded cold glass before running her fingertip slowly and deliberately down Jane’s wrist. “Stick around for a while, won’t you? We’ll show you how it’s done here.”
“I may just do that,” Jane purrs, trying not to shiver at the cool contact. “But for now…” She tilts her head in the direction of the space cleared between the tables. “The dance floor awaits.”
“You’ll be back,” the bartender says cockily, and damn, Jane hasn’t met someone so unabashedly overconfident in quite a while. It awakens the dominant side of her, tugging at her libido.
“Probably,” she acknowledges, “but only to get a drink for whoever I pick up tonight.”
She can feel the bartender’s fiery gaze boring into her back as she walks away.
--
Jane’s always been the type to let girls come to her rather than making the first move, so when an attractive brunette in business-casual attire comes sidling up, she expects a drink offer or an invitation to dance or something, but certainly not an inquiry about whether she’s a member of cupid4girls.com. Although Jane has posted on many online dating sites, she’s never been recognized from one out of the blue before.
“Uh… I haven’t been active on it in a while, and you’d only have seen me if you were searching the New York City listings, but yeah, I have a profile.”
“I’m in New York a lot on business,” the woman explains. “I’m Katie, otherwise known as katielaw32.”
“Good to meet you, katielaw32,” Jane says wryly. “So, hey, you seem like you’re a regular here - care to, uh… show me the ropes?”
Katie’s eyes twinkle wickedly. “Walk this way.”
--
They’re getting pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor for a club without go-go dancers gyrating on pedestals when Jane feels a flash of cold from the hand Katie had eased under her shirt to grasp her hip with, the other woman’s body undulating insistently against hers. She stiffens and Katie stops, murmuring, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… what is that, a ring or something?”
A wave of tension frissons through Katie’s body just long enough for Jane to pick up on before she gets it under control.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a keepsake. I can take it off if you want.”
“No, wait…” Jane slides her hand down to rest on top of Katie’s, tilting it upwards so she can inspect it. “That’s a wedding ring.”
Katie pulls out of her grasp, looking guilty.
“You’re married?!”
“I… to a woman,” Katie says defensively, but, wow - like that makes it any better? Massachusetts is one of the only goddamn states in the country that will allow her to have a lawfully wedded wife, and this is what she does with that freedom?
“I don’t do shit with married women,” Jane says coldly, and stalks away.
--
It takes about a minute of silence before the blonde from earlier drapes herself across the bar and says silkily, “So that looked like it went well.”
Jane glares at her disparagingly. “You stay out of this. And can you get me another beer, please, uh…?”
“Missi,” she supplies. “Missi with an I. That’s what I go by these days.”
Jane can’t even believe this woman. “Uh, okay, Missi-with-an-I, so what does your birth certificate go by?”
Missi makes a face. “Andrea Kay.”
“…Missi it is, then,” Jane concedes, trying to suppress a chuckle, and the blonde tilts her head and grins, that hunger from earlier back in her eyes.
“And you are?”
“Jane Rizzoli,” Jane shoots back, adding “NYPD” a little smugly.
“A policewoman.” Missi runs her tongue across her lips.
“Detective, actually,” Jane can’t help but boast, slipping her card out of her pocket and handing it flirtatiously across the bar. Missi takes it and fingers the edges.
“You got anywhere to be tonight?”
“Do you think I’d be here if I did?”
Missi sets her glass down in front of her. “Touché.”
And then, just as the conversation seems to be going somewhere, she smirks and peels herself off the bar to attend to another patron, leaving Jane hanging without another word. She doesn’t excuse herself or look back or anything, and before Jane knows it, she’s touching another woman's wrist just like she’d done with Jane.
“Goddamn,” Jane murmurs to herself. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea in the first place - she’s kidding herself if she thinks she can deal with a no-strings arrangement. With a final baleful glance at Missi, she drains her beer and leaves.
--
The pie of the day is blueberry so Alex and Liv get one slice and two spoons, chatting about their jobs and the trials that come with them. Liv’s never quite got comfortable with testifying in court, while handling a living witness to a homicide has always been difficult for Alex.
“I don’t think my mother would sleep a wink if I had your job,” Alex tells her laughingly. “She worries enough every time a case comes along involving the Irish mob. She thinks they’re gonna put a hit out on me.”
“They might if you do your job well enough,” Liv retorts, only half joking, and when Alex glances up from her plate it’s like the other woman’s whole face is different. “My mother used to worry too,” she goes on softly, and oh. Oh, God.
“Is she - I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
Liv shrugs. “At least she died proud of me. She knew it was because of her that I got into this line of work and helped so many people.”
Alex is quiet, listening. It’s insane how the tone of the conversation changed so quickly, but she senses that if she doesn’t interrupt, Liv might continue.
“I don’t usually come out and tell people this right off the bat, but. Almost forty years ago, she got raped, and…” Liv spreads her hands, palms-upward. “Here I am.”
There’s a horrible silence after Liv’s admission, and the words hit Alex with all the force of a speeding train. It’s hard to wrap her mind around it, that this confident, caring, beautiful woman was born of an attack so violent and ugly. There are no tears in Olivia’s eyes, just a quiet, tortured acceptance, but Alex’s vision grows blurry before she can help herself. The recent events in her life must be starting to take their toll on her, but she feels embarrassed by her display of emotion anyway.
“Hey, Alex, c’mon. Don’t. You don’t have to get upset over this.” Liv grabs a couple of paper napkins out of the dispenser on their table and hands them to Alex with a concerned look on her face.
“I’m fine, I promise,” Alex manages, dabbing at her eyes and doing her best to pull herself together. “It’s just been a stressful few days, that’s all. I needed to get away, and there’s, um. Some stuff I have to deal with…” She frowns at her own vagueness. If Liv can be honest about being a product of rape, she should be able to go into more detail about her relationship issues, but she’s not ready to refer to Trevor as an ex yet and doesn’t know how else to explain it. “I just haven’t quite figured out how to.”
Liv rests her hand on top of Alex’s, giving it a light squeeze. “You know part of my training was learning how to listen, right? This job isn’t all running around with my gun drawn, flashing my badge at people and telling them to freeze.”
Alex laughs in spite of herself. “I do know. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Liv says kindly. “Now, let’s get you home.”
--
It’s snowing by the time they get back to the apartment, and as Liv walks Alex to the door she warns her to be careful of the ice that can form on the front steps in this kind of weather.
“We’ll make plans later in the week?” she asks hopefully as Alex gets her keys out, and Alex turns to her and smiles.
“Bet on it.” There’s an awkward silence for a second as they stand there just staring at each other, and then before she knows it she’s continuing, “Liv, I’ve never done this before and now is probably a really bad time in my life to be making these kinds of decisions, but… Don’t say anything for a second, okay?”
“Okay…” Liv replies uncertainly, and Alex takes a deep breath and kisses her.
--
“Jesus fuck,” Jane exhales in irritation as she tries the wrong key in the door of Alex’s condo again. After two more attempts she successfully locates the right one and storms inside in annoyance. She’s really just sick of girls and their bullshit, and although she’d kind of been joking about celibacy before, it truly is beginning to seem like her best option. She’s about to start her regular cooling-off ritual of channel-flipping to the most ridiculous thing she can find and seeing how long she can stand to watch it when she feels a vibration at her hip and looks down to find her cell phone ringing. She glares at it murderously until she sees Liv’s name on the Caller ID.
“Rizzoli,” she says lightly, because it pisses Liv off when she knows it’s a friend but answers formally anyway.
“Jane, I messed up.”
Jane freezes. Olivia’s one of the most levelheaded people she knows - when she panics, it’s pretty much a given that whatever went down is nothing short of a full-blown catastrophe. She sits straight down on Alex’s coffee table because it’s the nearest flat surface available, and puts on her best interviewing-grieving-relatives voice before asking, “What happened?”
Liv sighs unhappily. “You know your home… switch… partner… person?”
“Alex? Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“Well, tonight we were at the diner together, and-”
“Shit, Liv, I’m getting another call, hang on.” Jane looks at the display screen of her phone then puts it back against her ear hurriedly. “Gimme a second and I’ll be right back.” She presses a button. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jane, um. It’s Alex.”
“Hey! Is everything okay?”
“Fine!” Alex says quickly - too quickly for it to be true, but Jane really has no business prying if she’s not willing to be upfront about it. “Totally fine.”
“Okay, well, listen, I would love to talk to you about this whole…” She waves her hand in the air, searching for the right adjective before settling on “crazy experience, but I’ve got my friend Liv on the other line and she’s upset about something, so is it okay if I call you back in a little while?”
“You’re talking to Liv?” Alex’s voice sounds suddenly different now, more raw, yet at the same time there’s an added sense of guardedness. “Is… she okay?”
“You met, I take it? I told her she didn’t need to babysit my apartment until you got there, but she’s not the kinda person who’ll usually take no for an answer. And, uh, I don’t know - we’d just started talking when you called.”
“Oh. Well, can you find out how she’s doing for me?”
Jane raises her eyebrows. “I… how Liv’s doing? Sure. Hold on one second.” She presses the button again. “Liv?”
“Yeah, so anyway-”
“I have Alex on the other line and she’s wondering how you’re doing.”
Dead silence.
“She’s wondering what?” Liv hedges, but Jane’s having none of it.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but - oh, God, wait. You did not.”
Liv wisely elects to stay silent.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“Of course not!” Liv says indignantly. “We just kissed. She kissed me, Jane. I wasn’t expecting it. How was I supposed to-”
“Olivia…” Jane stands up from the coffee table and paces the condo, absently twirling a lock of hair around the index finger of her free hand. “This is a really bad idea.”
“I know.”
“We said no more women who aren’t out.”
“I know!” Liv wails.
Jane’s voice softens. “So where do you want to go from here?”
“I’m not sure. Did she say anything about it?”
“Oh, Jesus, I forgot she was on the other line, Liv - one minute.” She lowers the phone from her ear and presses a button. “Alex? You still there?”
“Mmhm.” Alex’s voice sounds quavery, like she’s scared or just been crying or both.
“Liv’s fine, okay? She’s more worried about you.”
“Me? Did she… what did she tell you?”
“Enough,” Jane says gently, and Alex groans. “Just… take a couple days to think about all this, okay? She’ll give you as much time as you need, so don’t worry about her. She’s one of the good ones.”
“Okay,” Alex replies in a small voice. She feels very unlike herself right now, unsure the authoritative A.D.A. with complete command over a courtroom even exists inside of her at this point in time. “You know… I came here to get away from relationship drama. I’m not sure how I managed to embroil myself in more of it.”
“Well, girls have a way of being complicated,” Jane responds wryly. “Call me whenever, okay?”
“I will. Goodnight, Jane. Thank you.”
“Anytime. I mean it.” Jane hangs up with Alex, blows her bangs off her face and flips call-waiting back to Liv. “Okay, continue.”
“I basically told you all of it, just… where the fuck do I go from here, Jane? I like her - a lot - but I wasn’t expecting to get her. You know? Serena said she was straight.”
Sometimes Jane thinks she and her friends should write a soap opera about the trials and tribulations they face on a daily basis. They could call it Gays of Our Lives or some shit. It’d be a big hit, she’s sure of it. She frowns down at a squeaky floorboard in Alex’s living room.
“Just, uh… give her a couple of days, yeah? I’m not sure how much she told you, but a friend of hers called here earlier and I kinda inferred from the conversation that she’s going through a breakup.”
Liv’s quiet for a second, then paraphrases slowly, “…So what you’re telling me is that she’s rebounding? And that’s on top of me probably being her first lesbian experiment?”
Jane winces. “That would seem to be the situation, yeah.”
“Well, son of a bitch.”
--
They all lie low for a few days: Alex avoiding Liv, Liv avoiding Alex, and Jane avoiding the entire section of Boston above the Back Bay area. Alex finally calls Maura, explaining some things but leaving out others, while Liv spills every sordid detail to Serena. And as for Jane… Jane decides to go grocery shopping, because she misses her mom’s cooking even more than she expected and figures a good session in the kitchen might help snap her out of her funk.
Truth be told, she’s pretty strongly considering going home early. She’s staying at a lovely place in a lovely neighborhood, but it was stupid to think that temporarily relocating would change anything. It’d be easy to leave whenever she wanted - no plane tickets to book, just jumping in her car and heading back down the highway to her parents’ house in Queens - but for some reason something inside her is telling her to stick it out for another couple of days.
She’s at a grocery store in the shadow of the Prudential Center trying to figure out where the hell to find the pasta sauce when she turns around and promptly ploughs into Missi.
--
Maddeningly, Missi looks as put-together and unruffled as ever, which only serves to fluster Jane even more.
“Guess I never know where you’re gonna show up next,” Missi drawls, then inquires “You coming to the club tonight?” like nothing had even happened.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Jane responds flatly.
Missi looks surprised. “No, actually. It was fun watching your exploits with Boston’s most prolific adultress. I figured you might wanna play again.”
“Uh, strangely enough, no.”
“Not even if I give you a little incentive?”
Jane scowls. She knows this conversation is probably going to lead to nothing but trouble, but her curiosity gets the best of her. She is a detective, after all. “What kind of incentive?” she queries in spite of herself.
Missi smiles, slips past Jane (and really, it’s not that narrow of an aisle - there’s no need to get quite so intimate), and whispers in her ear, “The kind that’ll make it worth your while.”
Jane hates girls. She really does.
--
Alex’s second full day in New York really isn’t that different from her first, except now she has two things not to think about rather than just one. She watches speed chess in Central Park until her lips turn blue, then ducks into Saks to buy a couple of outfits she really doesn’t need. And just like the day before, she has three missed calls from Trevor and one from Maura, but unlike the previous day, the Medical Examiner is first on her list.
Over the rest of the week, it’s only the two of them who try to contact her, which bothers her more than she’ll admit. It’s funny - she’d almost be less hurt if Trevor stopped calling rather than Liv, which doesn’t make any sense at all. She tries taking her mind off things with an open-top bus tour, and makes a point of going to check out the Manhattan County Courthouse. It’s a lot more impressive-looking than the one in Boston, and she tries to imagine scaling its grand staircase every day in heels.
The day after her courthouse adventure there’s supposed to be a snowstorm, so she battens down the hatches and stays inside. Somewhere between The Wendy Williams Show and a rerun of an old crime procedural, she realizes she never turned her phone on silent and somehow can’t bring herself to do so. She glances at it forlornly every so often, but hears nothing from Liv, who she should probably start thinking of as “Olivia” again because she doubts they’ll stay friends after this.
She stares at the TV screen for a while, trying to pay attention but ultimately stewing in her own thoughts. When Trevor calls, she picks up.
--
Jane’s really not sure what she’s doing back at Merch. The music’s pounding and she’s standing in the doorway feeling terribly displaced, watching Missi tend bar until the other woman glances up and waves her over. Tonight she’s wearing a black vest with nothing underneath it, displaying slim, toned arms and a hint of cleavage, and she winks as Jane approaches.
“Long time no see,” she cracks, and Jane rolls her eyes. “What can I get you? Your usual?”
Jane laughs. “You say that like this isn’t only my second time here, but, yeah. Sure. My usual.”
“Be right back,” Missi purrs, and Jane surreptitiously checks out her ass as she bends to grab a bottle out of the fridge behind the bar. By the time the other woman resurfaces, however, her gaze has wandered to the girls on the dance floor. Without warning, Missi presses the cold bottle into her hand and she gasps, turning sharply.
“Uh, thanks,” she manages, a little breathless, and Missi makes a shooing motion.
“Go play. Come back around two if you want your incentive.”
“…I thought this place closed at two,” Jane says slowly, frowning.
Missi grins mischievously. “Exactly.”
--
Jane dances with a few girls, strikes up a couple of decent conversations and even buys someone a cosmo, but there’s no-one she’s seriously into and she doesn’t think anybody’s seriously into her - which is probably preferable, because for some reason her thoughts keep wandering back to the woman at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Missi watching her from time to time and tries to ignore the electric thrill that burgeons in her chest.
It’s so different coming to a club like this alone. Normally Liv and Serena are her “wingwomen,” so she rationalizes that she’s merely taking comfort in having someone she knows close at hand, even if it’s just a bartender she’s met twice before. In a city of strangers, she’ll take what she can get.
--
Around ten minutes to closing time, Jane sidles over to the bar and perches on a stool at one end of it. It’s last call and Missi’s rushed off her feet, but when she looks up and sees Jane, she smiles. The patrons start to trickle out slowly, and at a few minutes after two she begins upending barstools to give the remaining ones the hint. Jane’s still sitting, feeling awkward, and a couple of the stragglers look at her weirdly but Missi shows no signs of noticing. When the last one leaves, she tells the bouncer he’s free to go before directing her attention towards Jane.
“How are you at lifting chairs?”
“Uh, pretty excellent,” Jane parries. “But I don’t work for nothing.”
“You won’t be,” Missi says mysteriously before gesturing to a corner of the room. “You can start over there.”
--
Jane really doesn’t know how she got herself into this. She hasn’t done menial labor since she was still in high school, helping her father lug boxes of plumbing parts to and from his van. When he’d take her on jobs in the summertime and on weekends, she’d hand him j-traps and p-traps and all manner of fittings, some of which she still can’t tell apart to this day. Sometimes she’d just pick something that looked cool and he’d either accept it or hand it back with a reproachful look on his face. He paid her in candy or cassette tapes, slipping her a ten dollar bill once in a while, but somehow Jane doesn’t think that’s quite what Missi has in mind.
She wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve after the last chair is lifted. “Now what?”
Missi pokes her head out of the store room behind the bar. “Now comes the fun part.”
She’s holding a crate in her hand, and Jane eyes it suspiciously. “And what might that be? Weight-lifting martini mix?”
Missi giggles - straight up giggles - and she’s always been so suave that it takes Jane by surprise. “No, the box has nothing to do with it. C’mere. I’ll go put it down.”
She disappears into the recesses of the store room, which is either very large or very dark, because Jane can’t make out the other woman’s silhouette at all. She steps in haltingly.
“Aren’t there any lights in here?”
“There are,” comes Missi’s voice, purring close to her ear, “but I figured we’d have more fun without them.”
Before Jane has time to process this, Missi’s hand is at the waistband of her jeans, slipping inside and pressing her back against the wall. Missi’s teeth sink into her neck and she moans, knowing that’ll leave a mark well into the morning. She grabs at Missi’s hair, weaving it through her fingers, and then it’s Missi’s turn to make a noise before Jane tugs her head up and presses their lips together.
They battle for dominance, both refusing to submit, and whenever Jane gets the upper hand Missi moves her fingers and sets her gasping for breath. Jane struggles to retaliate, pressing her thigh against the warmth of Missi’s body, and she can tell when she hits her just right because Missi’s whole body jolts and she bites down on Jane’s lip. They undulate against each other, their only sounds those of soft cries and wet kisses, and when Jane gets close she arches her hips and tightens her grasp on Missi’s hair, sending Missi over the edge simultaneously.
They catch their breaths together in the darkness for a moment before Missi leans across and flips a switch on the wall, bathing them both in harsh, fluorescent lighting that makes Jane squint. Missi’s cheeks are flushed and her hair is a mess; Jane can only imagine what she looks like.
“Worth it?” Missi purrs, and Jane laughs throatily, still getting her breath back.
“I suppose,” she concedes coyly.
Missi laughs and punches her in the shoulder.
---<---<---@
Part Two.