Chapter Text
“Maybe I should be a lesbian.” She’d said it sarcastically, obviously, she always did. The thought always crossed her mind at least once when she was across a table from the latest in a series of guys who bored her; or hated that she was a cop because it made them feel emasculated; or liked it so much she could sense them wanting to ask about the handcuffs; or they were just too, uncomfortably sweet. There were a lot of reasons, frankly. That’s why it was nice to have nights off from men. Just her, Maura and a bottle of wine…
“Well, maybe you could try it.” Her friend said, dangerously casually. Her eyes were still on Jo Friday as she played with her.
It was a good thing then, that Maura did not catch the moment when her whole body froze and her heart skipped a beat. She was gobsmacked and could not get her mouth to close but she managed to school her face into a more proportionate level of shock for what she was told.
“Oh it’s not that bad, I reined in Frost and Korsak’s ideas.” She spoke casually, getting up to grab her laptop. “You’re a sporty, energetic brunette who loves the Celtics. You’ve recently discovered something about yourself and want to explore those new possibilities.”
Now that the confusion was cleared up, she managed to look honestly affronted. “Why’d you have to phrase it like that, you make me sound like some sorta fawn?” She protested, awfully defensive of her new lesbian persona.
“There’s not as many bars or sites for this- it has to make sense that you only just made the account today.” Maura was rational to a point of difficulty- but hard to really stay mad at because of how sweetly she spoke.
“Well can’t I have just moved to the area?” She poked back more for the sake of it.
“With that accent?” Isles gave her a withering look.
Rizzoli demurred and closed her mouth. It was hard to argue against.
“Besides, you have plenty of admirers already.” She slid onto the bed next to her and Jane moved over to get a look at the screen. “Even someone with season tickets,” Maura teased.
Her eyes scanned the message, mouthing along with interest. “Holy shit, front row? There’s a lot I’d do for those.” She lent in to keep reading, “Hiking, rides her bike, plays some basketball. I could probably keep that up for the season.”
“You’re keen all of a sudden- developing a type?”
“For front row tickets, anyone’s my type.”
“Hmm,” Maura wondered aloud “What do you think our types would be… if we did actually like women.”
“Well, I’d have to be the guy beca-“
“What? Jane, no, there’s no guy that’s basically the whole point- just because you’re bossy.”
“Okay but so are you, you’re just soft enough with it that people don’t notice and can’t be mad if they do.” She turned to the ceiling, fidgeting with her hands. “I don’t know how different it would be- personality wise. I’m still me and I’d still need someone who appreciates that, ya know?.” Her eyes slipped over to Maura. She was on her side, head propped up on an arm, looking at her, watching rapt. She looked back to the ceiling- avoiding think too hard about how interested in this she’d looked. “The big thing is obviously work- it’s almost always the deal breaker for guys. I need a girl who could handle the fact I’m not always gonna have time for her and that that time is gonna be at weird hours.”
“So she’d basically have to stay at home, for you two to be able to have time together?”
“God no, I couldn’t do that to her. She stays at home then her life would just be sitting by the phone, waiting for me to walk through the door that’d be plain cruel.”
“You’re talking yourself into a corner- it wouldn’t work if she had a 9-5 but you wouldn’t want her to stay home. It sounds like she basically has to be a detective too.”
“Or a doctor,” she shrugged. Grinning and turning to Maura, who smiled back at her for a few seconds before her face dropped in surprise.
“Cute, but I don’t think you’re my type.”
Now she was offended “What does that mean?” She withdrew, looking genuinely hurt.
“I said, you’re bossy.”
“And you are too,” she playfully wacked at Maura with the back of her hand. “Anyway, that’s tough luck- you’re coming with me.” It killed Jane to do it, but she had to bring the conversation back to work. The sparring was over as she convinced her best friend they had to go to a lesbian bar together- for work.