Chapter Text
As usual, if you notice the tenses being weird. No you didn't. You're not my English teacher. Unless you are. In which case, hi Ms Morton!
Tongues. Hands. Fingers.
Jane woke up slowly, nausea pulsing through her skull as consciousness bit and kicked it's way into her head. Memories, half formed in a drunken haze, battled to be remembered, but she couldn't quite pull them into focus.
Lips against her neck, her breast.
Someone is in her bed.
It'd happened a few times since Casey. She always thought she'd grown out of the one-night-stand thing, but since her engagement and subsequent break-up with the father of her lost child, it'd been easy to let people waltz in to her life and then straight back out.
No strings attached. Less complicated. Less painful.
The Detective puffed out a breath, still not daring to open her eyes and face the daylight she knows her shitty curtains are letting through. Her core aches, in a familiar, satisfying kind of way, and she really should make sure to thank this mystery guest before she kicks them out. She shifts beneath the covers, burrowing her head beneath them.
The jostle is enough to wake her bedmate, who rolls over and groans.
In a decidedly feminine tone.
A familiar, feminine tone.
Holy shit. No no no no.
“No.”
“Don't freak out,” Maura's voice is muffled, but still completely recognisable. Jane's eyes snap open, and immediately blink shut again against the brightness. Not before she catches a glimpse of honey-coloured hair and bare shoulders.
“No,” Jane repeats, her head short-circuiting at the new information and the overwhelming sense of panic, “No.”
“No, you won't freak out?”
“Maura! What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” She launches herself upright, sitting up and feeling sickness wash over her. From the hangover or the situation, she's not entirely sure. Jane's eyes finally commit to staying open, and she looks down at her best friend, who is definitely nude beside her and lying face down into the pillow. Oh shit.
Jane thinks back to the previous evening, and vaguely recalls someone – Korsak maybe? - buying them tequila shots. Many, many shots. If she thinks carefully enough, she can remember someone pushing her back against the bathroom door, kissing her hard.
“Trying not to vomit. Please don't yell.”
“This isn't happening.”
Maura rolls over, eyes scrunched shut in a way Jane finds adorable even through the panic, and breathes in deeply through her nose. “Please get me some water. I know you're freaking out, but you freak out on your way to the kitchen.”
“Uh.”
“Please Jane,” Maura's pleading voice was enough for Jane's compassionate side to kick in, and despite Maura's accurate assessment that Jane was indeed freaking the fuck out, she couldn't deny a request for aid.
Nodding dumbly, the taller woman swung her legs out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt and shorts from her bedside drawer. Maura laughed softly as she pulled the grey top over her head.
“It's an odd time for modesty Jane.”
Despite the absurdity of what is happening, it's enough to draw a chuckle out of Jane as she pads across the room, “Shut up Maur, this is weird.”
Her kitchen is cool in the morning, and Jane is grateful for the cold tiles against her feet. It's a welcome sensory distraction from the panic surging through her system.
How the fuck did this happen? And why the fuck was Maura so calm?
Gulping down a glass of water and swallowing a Tylenol from her cupboard, Jane took a moment to try and calm herself enough to think rationally.
Maura didn't seem upset, or angry, or even particularly fussed about the whole affair. Maybe she was too hungover right now. The Doctor was always a lightweight compared to the rest of the Homicide team. Maybe once she sobered up, she'd be freaking out just like Jane.
And Jane? Jane wasn't sure how to feel. Maura was her best friend. What if that had all been fucked up by what happened last night. She wasn't even sure if she was attracted to women.
But she knew Maura. And she knew that, even drunk out of their fucking minds, there is no way anything would have happened if they both weren't into it. She trusted her.
“I can hear you thinking out there!” Maura's voice broke through her reverie, and Jane could hear shuffling in her room.
“That's my line. Are you getting up?” Jane called back, refilling the glass and grabbing a couple of extra pills. She took a deep breath, and started a slow pace back across her apartment.
“I don't think so. I'm borrowing a shirt though, is that okay?”
Jane pushed the door open just as Maura pulled an old Sox shirt over her head, just in time to see firm abs disappear behind soft cotton. Silently admonishing herself for staring, she returned to her side of the bed and handed Maura – who was now sat up against the headboard - the glass and the medication, catching her eye for the first time since they awoke.
And also spotting the ridiculously dark hickey Maura now sported against the pale skin of her neck. This just keeps getting better and fucking better...she thought to herself, feeling red flush across her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
The silence hung between them for a moment, Maura sipping her water and Jane fiddling anxiously with her scarred palms.
“So_”
“So_”
The false start made them both laugh, and Jane exhaled and pushed a hand through dark hair.
“Have you stopped freaking out yet?” Maura nudged her friend with her elbow, cautiously reinstating contact.
“No. Have you started?”
“Not yet. Are you okay?”
“I'm so hungover. And I slept with my best friend.”
“Your best friend also slept with hers, if it's any consolation,” Maura shrugged, “And she's also ridiculously hungover.”
“How are you so calm about this?”
“It's just sex Jane. Intercourse, even between people of the same gender_”
“Woah there Googlemouth. Don't make this weirder.”
“What? It's what happened, as far as I remember. I certainly feel like I achieved orgasm at least onc_”
“Oh my God. Stop,” Jane buried her face in her hands. Of course Maura would be calm and cool-headed and practical, “I mean, friends don't usually sleep together Maura.”
“I suppose you're right. Although, lots of people do have sex outside of a traditional romantic relationship. It's just another way we can make each other feel good.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well I'm assuming you're still not interested in pursuing a relationship beyond what we already have.”
“No. No Maura. I don't even know if I'm attracted to you sober_”
Maura twisted on the bed and pressed a kiss against Jane's stammering mouth. The gentle pressure shocked her, but Jane's instinct to pull away floundered and died as hands curled into her dark curls. How was she enjoying this? It should feel weird, or wrong, but it just felt... nice.
The kiss only lasted a few moments, lips moving together in the morning quiet until Maura pulled away. Jane found herself chasing her lips.
“Your morning breath is making me queasier.”
“Wow. Thank you Doctor.”
Maura laughed softly, but her expression turned serious, “Jane. You mean the world to me. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can pretend it never happened and move on. We moved on from you shooting my father, I think we can get past this.”
“It's just weird Maura. We slept together. And I can barely remember any of it, Korsak and his fucking tequila. But it's becoming less weird the more I think about it. I think.”
“I must admit my memory is patchy as well. I remember kissing you in the bathroom at the Dirty Robber. I remember getting a taxi here. I remember barely getting in your apartment before you...” Maura trailed off, a blush tinting pale cheeks.
“Anything else?” Jane's tone caught Maura off guard. Her tone had dropped an octave, and the Doctor realised that Jane's dark eyes had dilated in mere seconds.
“I remember...” Maura placed the now empty glass onto the bedside table, and with one quick movement, she rolled and threw one leg across Jane's lap, straddling her with hands landing on firm shoulders, “I remember this?”
“Go on,” Jane's voice, still at that gorgeous low timbre, shook slightly, as if she was daring herself to push beyond nerves. Everything about this was so weird, but it just felt too good to resist.
“You're an excellent kisser Jane, I remember that much,” Maura spoke softly, words whispered against waiting lips. Teasing, just out of reach.
“Even with my morning breath?”
“You didn't have morning breath last night.”
“I do now.”
“And I suspect you're still an excellent kisser.”
“Want to test your hypothesis?”
Maura felt Jane's lips ghost over hers, the distance barely a hair's breath away from contact. But something in Maura's stomach gurgled, and she pulled away.
“I do. But not until you've brushed your teeth.”
Jane groaned as Maura climbed off her lap, fingers dropping away from where they'd unconsciously landed on the curve of the shorter woman's hips.
“You're a ridiculous flirt Maur.”
“And you're incredibly sexy Jane. But right now, we both need a shower and some breakfast. I really don't like sex when I'm feeling ill.”
“Who said sex was on the table?”
“Preferably on the bed actually. But you did. Dilated pupils, increased heart rate. Classic signs of arousal.” Maura stood by the bedside, throwing open the curtains, making both women wince against the sunlight.
“Bodily response doesn't mean I consent! See, I pay attention in Sensitivity training.”
Maura turned and winked, “I don't think lack of consent will be an issue. Do you, Detective?”
Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Jane smirked and watched as Maura shimmied a pair of her shorts up next to the bed.
“In all seriousness, we can talk about what this means for us once we're clean and fed. I'd even drink your instant coffee right now.”
Jane gasped in mock horror, before murmuring in the affirmative and settling back against the pillows. She watched as the blonde disappeared into the small bathroom, and had just picked up her phone to check for messages when a gasp came from behind the closed door.
“What have you done to my neck?!”