#cmwhs snippets

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli, Jack Armstrong/Maura Isles Characters: Maura Isles, Jane Rizzoli, Frankie Rizzoli Jr., Jack Armstrong (Rizzoli & Isles), Angela Rizzoli, Nina Holiday, Vince Korsak Additional Tags: References to Depression, References to Miscarriage, Phone Sex, Infidelity, Maura is with Jack and there is one scene that they are implied to be together, but no explicit straight sex, Jane is spiraling after casey/the baby, the bridge jump, Daddy Kink, maura and Jane are madly in love and can't figure their shit out Summary:

Three months ago, Jane lost her baby during the rescue of 16 year-old Tasha. Since then, and since Casey's sudden departure, she has closed herself off from friends and family alike - except for the late night phone calls she's been having with Maura. Canon-compliant. Rizzles.

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Hi Everyone! CMWHS is officially live. Thanks for sticking around as I brainstormed it and eventually got it onto paper (so to speak). I am still in the process of writing it, so expect updates once a week, with the exception of this week, because chapter 1 was already posted here. Chapter 2 will be up midweek. 

[anthrofreshtodeath]

coronita heights & 21, cmwhs 11? tysm as always!

@sharknatho You are so welcome! The Coronita Heights one is first, and is actually set within events in the CH sequel. I am not going to reveal much about the plot in this snippet, but let's just say I'm having a lot of fun writing about celebrity/music culture as it intersects with MLB. Actually, both of these snippets are about baseball, and many that I post today probably will be 😂 Sorry not sorry!

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Coronita Heights 21

Jane, in the sectioned-off area of Citi Field’s home clubhouse designated just for her, took a moment to inhale. Her entire musculoskeletal system vibrated with the kind of soreness that came from victory, a happy sort of pain that bewitched all ballplayers enough to get up the next day and seek it again. She sat on the padded folding chair designated just for her, still in full uniform except for her cleats, and rested her elbows while she hung her head. Sweat no longer dripped from her brow, but she smelled herself and she tried to summon the will in her satedness to get up and go to the shower.

But then, she heard the clack of heels coming from down the hall. Those heels got louder, came closer, until they stopped right at the entrance of her room and the sound was eaten up by the carpet.

Jane couldn’t help the megawatt grin on her face when she looked up. She knew exactly who would be calling on her in shoes like that. “Hey,” she said, and sure enough, she was rewarded with an eyeful of Maura.

Who stood in front of her in tight jeans and a flowy, high-necked, long-sleeve black blouse. She wore a “press” lanyard, presumably how she got into the bowels of the stadium. “Is she here?” Maura replied, looking around, making a point of marching to Jane’s shower and pulling back the curtain.

Jane, elated only seconds before, straightened up in confusion. “What? Who?”

Maura, eyes hard and brow knitted together, returned. She walked right in between Jane’s spread knees. “You tipped your hat to her,” she replied. She cupped Jane’s chin in her hand so she could jerk her head up. “She blew you a kiss from the suites. It was on the megatron for all of New York to see.”

“She’s Lady Gaga, and the only reason we even had a moment is because you were so excited to see her on E! News in my jersey last night,” Jane countered. “After we..." she paused to wag a finger between them, "wore each other out.”

Maura blushed. “I like to watch celebrity gossip after I… you know what? You’re distracting from the point.”

Jane quirked a brow. “Which is? You comin’ in here to accuse me of fucking a pop star instead of congratulating me on my first win in the Classic?”

Maura tugged up roughly on Jane’s Italy jersey, stained with major-league infield dirt - she had to admit that that was a turn-on - until it came untucked from her white pants. Then, she knelt, and fiddled with the buckle of Jane’s belt. “You’re mine,” she ordered. And it sounded exactly like a command. “No matter how famous you get.” She succeeded in undoing the buckle, and then she unbuttoned those pants, and pulled down their zipper.

Jane yelped when Maura’s hands came back up, and yanked the front of her jersey forward. They were centimeters from each other now, breathing borrowed air from one another. Her hair fell forward and shrouded them both. “You’re the pinnacle. Sleepin’ with her would be a downgrade,” Jane whispered.

Maura closed the distance, crashing their lips together, kissing Jane with fury and tongue and teeth. She nearly pulled her to the floor, but stopped just in time. She pulled her lips back, rested their foreheads together. “Again,” she said. “Tell me again, like you mean it.”

Jane hoisted her up until she sat in Jane’s lap. They kissed, Jane preferring actions to words in order to prove her point.

___

Call Me When He Sleeps 11

Maura pushes through the throngs of people gathered around the commotion outside one of the bars on Landsdowne Street in the softening sun of a summer evening, just a block from where they had been called in for a body.

Jane had been inappropriately happy. If we wrap this up quick, we can be done by the third inning and stay for the rest of the game, she had said when Maura found her outside and told her. She was patching part of the roof of the guesthouse as a Saturday project and she’d gotten the call seconds after, taking her phone from the clip on her hip, smiling even wider when dispatch relayed the message.

All of that made Maura inappropriately happy, as well. Baseball doesn’t titilate her like it does Jane, but the child-like enjoyment with which Jane watches the game satisfies something deep within Maura’s soul. They went, and she had just finished processing the body when Jane had spotted a suspicious person lurking around the scene and nodded to Frankie.

They had chased her together, and Jane just happened, apparently, to be the one on the left when she turned and waved a knife indiscriminantly, with intent to injure.

So, as Korsak said, still on the call with Frankie when he turned to Maura, Jane had taken one right to the side. Maura had dropped everything and started running.

Fuck, Maura thinks as more onlookers spawn with every inch of progress she makes. “Jane! Frankie!” she shouts, hoping that they will both emerge unharmed and that it is just a case of mistaken identity meant to give her heartburn.

“Maura!” Frankie does call back, and he immediately clears some of the crowd with his booming voice. “Step back! Let the doctor in!”

Luckily, medics had been nearby, as they always are for MLB games, and uniforms are taking the suspect away in handcuffs when Maura finally spots Jane in a gurney. The knife is sticking out of her, in a less dangerous place than Maura had imagined only seconds prior to now. Not mistaken identity, but better than the worst case scenario.

Still, Maura surges forward and throws herself around Jane, kissing her, pulling at Jane’s lips with her lips and trying to suck all the flavor of Jane into herself that she can. She cries without sound when Jane kisses back, weakly but with tongue to tell Maura that she’s alright and she’s into it. Finally, they break, and Maura drops her head to Jane’s shoulder. “You kept it in,” she breathes in relief.

Jane looks down to the blade in her side. “Agh. Yeah. Don’t say I never listened to ya,” she pants, clearly in pain. “Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?” Maura responds, still not ready to look Jane in the face, so she closes her eyes when she kisses her again.

“Are you mad?” Jane winces.

“No,” Maura answers honestly. “You took Frankie. But I am scared. That looks like it hurts.”

“It hurts like a bitch,” says Jane, and they both chuckle. Then Jane groans. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m ok. I think I’m gonna be ok.”

Maura shudders and then finally opens her eyes to find Jane’s. “You’re going to be ok,” she says to convince the both of them. She’s grateful for the EMTs that are giving them this moment undisturbed. “I’ll ride with you to make sure.”

Jane tossed a glance in the EMTs’ direction. “They gonna let you?”

“I’m the Chief Medical Examiner,” Maura huffed. “They will if they want to keep their jobs.”

Jane smirked as she pushed herself up higher on the bed with her knuckles. “Ok. Maura?”

“Yes,” Maura answers again, nodding for the professionals to come in and begin moving Jane.

“Pull the game up on my phone? I’m sad I’m gonna miss it.”

Maura laughs, throaty and wet with tears when she climbs up into the waiting ambulance with Jane. “Of course,” she says.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet #2

Writing for this one is slow going; I'm about a third of the way through chapter 4. I'll start posting chapters when I'm done with chapter 10. So, in the meantime, have this steamy snippet in which I am Maura and Maura is me. LOL.

The slamming of Jane’s unmarked trunk jolts Maura back into reality, the one that was put on pause by the pulse in Jane’s tricep as she pulled an old, dented metal toolbox out from behind her spare tire.

Maura resents reality at this moment. In fantasy land, Jane looks like that, narrowed brows, concentrated eyes, frowning lips, engaged musculature, over Maura’s body. While she works a very different job. A very, very different, naked job. Maura closes her eyes, tamps down on her lips that want so badly to release a whimper, and says a chant to herself about professionalism.

Jane straightens up again and looks right at her, no doubt scrutinizing the thin, dainty sheen of sweat on her forehead and the pink blush on the visible part of her chest. Jane smiles. “I’m about to take this toilet apart. Take copious pictures for me, ok? And tell me if anythin’ I’m about to do is gonna mess with any forensics.”

Maura sighs. “The fingerprint was the only thing of forensic value that CSRU found, but yes, I will keep you in check,” she says. The professionalism lasts all of thirty seconds.

“Knew you would,” Jane says quietly, again with that soft smile and downcast eyes. It’s a Jane apology for their tiff back in Maura’s office and Maura tries not to accept it. Tells herself that she needs more. A real apology. Starting with Jane, in her arms. “Let’s go,” Jane orders them, and another mini-indulgence is broken.

They march up the stairs, and Korsak produces the keys for Danielle’s apartment. It’s been turned around, upside down, in the search for things, not in a messy way, but in a clear invasion of her usual method of organizing things. It is clear, when they walk in, that Dani isn’t coming back, because her life inside is in shambles. “The bathroom’s just off the bedroom,” Korsak tells Jane and Maura, who are just ahead of him.

Jane has her tools, Maura her kit and her camera, and they walk through the hall to the bedroom and then into the small bathroom. Jane touches a hand to Maura’s back. “I’m going to remove the lid and then see if I can get the handle,” she explains.

“Ok,” Maura says. She rummages through her bag for two pairs of nitrile gloves and hands one to Jane. Once they’ve both put them on, she bends forward to take pictures for reference. Jane stands patiently behind her, wrists crossed in front of her belt buckle as she watches Maura.

Korsak stands in the doorway. “What are we lookin’ for here?” He asks Jane, calling over Maura’s bent back.

“Not sure yet,” Jane keeps her revelation to herself. “Gotta be sure I’m not goin’ crazy first.”

“Because what you find could exonerate Paul?” Korsak goads her.

“Yeah,” she says. Maura pops back up and Jane nods. “It could. Thanks, Maura.”

“No problem,” Maura replies. She steps back so that Jane can work.

Jane flips open the lid of her toolbox and produces an adjustable wrench. She bounces it against her palm a few times, and Maura can tell it is hefty by the fleshy smack she hears when Jane finishes the fidget and grips it tight. She slides it in her pocket and then approaches the toilet, removing the top lid with care. “Take that, would ya?” She hands it to Korsak, sliding her body in front of Maura in the small space to do so.

Immediately Maura smells perfume, porcelain, toilet water, and Jane’s sweat. It hits her right between her hips and she wants to ask Jane to fix every toilet, sink, shower, and bath in her house. She licks her lips.

Korsak takes the lid. “Got it,” he takes it and holds it, inspecting it in his hands, none the wiser to Maura’s predicament.

Jane pulls the wrench out of her pocket and stands tall over the toilet, peering into the tank, and then palpating the handle’s attachment inside. Her fingers smooth and bunch, then circle. Satisfied that she’s learned the area, she nods and places the wrench exactly where it needs to be. With the first slow, intentional pull of the wrench with her left hand towards her body, she grunts.

Maura nearly faints.

“Reverse-thread nuts are always tricky. Turn the wrench in the wrong direction… basta. You’ve cracked the porcelain,” Jane explains. She continues her methodical leveraging of the nut until it’s loose. Maura leans in on the pretense of getting a better look at the process, but in actuality she wants to study Jane’s pulsing jawline and her tensing forearms. Study and touch, but she sticks to studying. For now.

Korsak chuckles from behind them. “Sometimes I forget you’re a plumber’s daughter,” he quips.

Jane just wiggles the handle out the toilet and holds it out for Maura. “Snap this, too. I’ll turn it so you get all angles,” she commands softly. She stares intently at the handle, glaring at it.

“Yes, d-” Yes, daddy. Maura stops herself - is she serious? The thought comes unbidden to her mind. But how could anything less be expected? She almost came at the sight of Jane manipulating some hardware. She tries, has tried over these last few months, to never compare Jack and Jane. But right now, she can’t help it - Jack is a man of many talents, none of which involve using his hands for physical labor. She knows it shouldn’t matter and curses her reductive, primitive libido. He’s smart, he’s charming, he’s a hell of a mathematician - but at the end of the day, he couldn’t bust her pipes open and patch a leak. He couldn’t rock a wrench back and forth until he loosened a nut without cracking the porcelain beneath. But Jane? Jane can do all of those things. She also has no doubt that Jane would be able to find her own pants in the morning, too, though Maura realizes now that she definitely would not want her to. Still, Maura catches herself before she says the rest of it out loud, before Korsak even registers the difference.

But, Jane has heard. Jane sees. And Jane smirks wickedly, with closed, pursed lips and lit-up eyes, while Maura busies herself with picture-taking so that the ground doesn’t swallow her whole. “Yeah,” Jane calls to Korsak over Maura’s shoulder, “you know, I’d never thought I’d say this, but thank you, Pop.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Korsak says, laughing that wheezy laugh. “You gonna teach your kids all this stuff?”

Jane glances at Maura quickly before answering. “Course,” she says firmly, knocking the knuckle of her right index finger into Maura’s hip. “It’s the one good thing my father gave me. And it’ll keep ‘em from gettin’ stiffed by some two-bit asshole.”

Maura releases the breath she’d been holding in since Korsak asked. She feared what would come of the question: she feared the sadness, the rage, and most importantly, the isolation that Jane trafficked in when she thought about her lost child.

But Korsak knows something Maura had not known, apparently. Jane had just smiled and spoken of her future children proudly, not retreated into herself and alcohol at the mention of them. Korsak knows, it would seem, that asking about those kids makes Jane feel like it could still be a possibility for her, being a mom. Even if it didn’t work out this last time around. And if Korsak knows this, it means that, in her own way, Jane is letting someone in. In the moment, Maura rejoices that it’s happening, and mourns that it is not happening with her.

“Lemme see that,” Korsak says, reaching out for the handle once Maura is done photographing it, redirecting them to their current task.

“This handle does not belong with that toilet,” Jane says as she hands it off, a knuckle turning into her whole hand splayed against Maura so that she can shuffle past and give Korsak what he wants. “They’re two different brands.”

Korsak turns it around. “Maybe the landlord replaced it.”

“Yeah, but the newer handles are usually plastic or stainless steel. That one’s brass,” Jane corrects him. Maura leans back imperceptibly, feeling lightheaded again.

“Hmm. Nice,” Korsak says.

“A little too nice for a landlord to spend money on. What if that handle was somewhere else when Paul Westcourt touched it?” Jane presses.

“It wouldn’t take more than a wrench for someone to relocate it here,” Maura offers, finally trusting her voice again.

“The print was planted,” Jane says to Korsak.

Korsak sighs. “I’ll talk to the super, verify he didn’t replace this handle. If you’re right…”

“I am,” Jane assures him. “And so was fuckin’ Paul Westcourt. He was set up.”

“I’m gonna make the call. I’ll be in the living room when you get this cleaned up,” Korsak assents to Jane’s logical leap and takes it upon himself to call both the super of the building and CSRU.

Maura takes her chance to turn around and find Jane’s chest with her hands. She snaps off her gloves when she sees the garish contrast of purple on the blue cotton of Jane’s tee. “I… I find your ability to connect your plumbing knowledge to casework very impressive.”

[anthrofreshtodeath]

#33 "Close Your Eyes and Hold Out Your Hands" - Call Me When He Sleeps

This is the last snippet for the evening, and the other four will go up tomorrow. 😊

Jane prays, literally prays that all her shit won’t be on the front doorstep when she walks up, and that Maura’s mood will be good enough to at least let her sleep on the couch, and not the bench in the courtyard outside Angela’s guesthouse.

Maura has been back from her San Francisco trip for three whole days, and in some sort of divine retribution for Jane knows-not-what, the murderer in her most recent case decided to do nothing on the first night of their stakeout, nor the second. So Jane has not been by the house on any of those three days, not to eat, not to sleep, not to shower. All that’s been done at the precinct and even she’d be pissed if someone stood her up for three days after a whole week away.

She unlocks the door with a grimace, ready for the lashing, when she spots Maura in front of the oven, mitts still on. “You’re home!” Maura says brightly.

Jane is confused. “H-hey, yeah,” she sputters. “You ok?”

Maura is confused now, too. “Yes…” she draws it out. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she looks down to her clothes to make sure they’re all in place.

“I uh… I wasn’t around for three whole days. We haven’t seen each other for ten,” Jane explains. She’s got one eye screwed shut like at any moment the atmosphere will change and the wrath will come.

“I know…” Maura is just as cautious, pulling off her oven mitts and stepping toward Jane around the island. “And that would make me not ok? I mean, I’m sad that it’s taken this long but it’s the nature of our work, Jane.” She says, the epitome of logic, just before her face falls and the wall she’s built around her desperation crumbles. “Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah,” Jane says, but she leans in before she can give Maura a chance to register her answer. After a hot few seconds, she pulls back and licks her lips. “You’re really not mad?”

Maura leans forwards and nips Jane’s lower lip, liking the feel of how it bounces between her teeth. “Did you take any unnecessary risks?”

Jane follows when Maura leaves and kisses again. “No,” she answers.

“Did you call Dr. Wright?” Maura asks, undoing the first couple of buttons on her blouse.

“Yeah,” Jane, too caught up in the taste of Maura, closes her eyes and licks the perfume on her neck.

“Did you call me every night?” Maura presses. This one they both know the answer to.

“Yeah,” Jane whispers assertively. “I did.”

Maura pulls away. “Then close your eyes. Hold out your hands.”

Jane scoffs. “What?”

“Do it.”

“Ok…”

Jane reluctantly obeys. She breathes deeply to tell her heart and her sex to slow the fuck down, but she can hear the ocean in her ears when she cups her hands in front of her. There’s a rustling, there’s a quiet pop, and then there’s silence.

Then, finally, something warm, soft, and textured falls into her grip. She opens her eyes immediately. “Tell me now, if you think I’m mad,” says Maura, whose shirt is open and whose lacy, blue bra is in Jane’s grip.

Jane stares only at where that bra used to be. “Turn dinner off. I’ll order you a pizza later.”

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet #3

Mad Maura and first kiss tingz. I can do about one of these snippets a week until I post, because why not? 😂 I'm all about taking a scene from canon and tweaking it just a bit to really bring out that tension.

Maura looks up, and Jane tells her knees to get a fucking grip. Maura’s highlighted hair falls perfectly around her face, the skin of her shoulders pops seductively under her sleeveless gray dress, and her green eyes are so, so pained. “Hey,” says Jane.

Maura frowns when she realizes that it is Jane standing there, in the flesh. She reminds herself that she does not believe in apparitions, so it cannot be Jane’s ghost. At first she wants to say nothing, but Jane just continues to stand there, expecting some sort of engagement. “How are you feeling?” She settles for something vague, the opposite of intimate.

“Tired,” Jane says. She takes Maura’s response as permission to enter and sit down. “Bruised.” Maura watches Jane lower herself gingerly. Then Jane holds out the bag. “It was the only thing I could afford without taking out a second mortgage, so....”

Maura removes the bottle of Coco Madamoiselle perfume, Chanel, and bites her lower lip. “What we have is so fucking perverted,” she curses.

Jane’s eyes blow open. “What?”

“This is my favorite,” Maura says, holding the bottle up for Jane to see. Her eyes turn severe and accusing. “Jack can’t even tell you three brands of perfume, but you know exactly which Chanel is mine. The disgusting thing about it is that you’re using it to buy me. To buy my compliance.”

“I’m using it to apologize to you,” Jane spits, looking Maura up and down as if she has transformed and Jane no longer recognizes her. “Because I know I hurt you.”

“Do you?” Maura asks, “do you know that you hurt me? I begged you not to do it and you did it anyway. You hurt me after I gave you the blueprint on how exactly not to. And now you think that a two thousand dollar bottle of perfume is going to make all of this go away?! Fuck you.”

Jane hops up as soon as Maura does, will not cede the higher ground. Immediately she towers over her. “Hey! I know that jumping in after Paul was dangerous,” she says, brown eyes hard and narrow, “but I was doin’ my goddamn job. My job.”

“Your job is to serve and protect! How in the hell are you supposed to do that if you’re dead?!” Maura shouts, and Jane is glad she shut the door behind her when she walked in.

“It’s part of the risk! You have always known what could happen to me! I did what I had to do to serve him, and protect him - even if I thought he was an asshole,” Jane gets just as loud.

“Did you have to tell him you loved me? Huh? Is that part of police procedure?” Maura pushes an index finger into Jane’s chest.

Jane freezes. “What?”

“Or was that a lie, too? Just something you said to keep him from going over? Well, it didn’t fucking work, Jane. He went over anyway,” Maura’s voice cracks, but it is still strong.

“I didn’t... that wasn’t a lie,” Jane, too flabbergasted to yell, whispers.

Maura is close enough to hear it. “Did you fucking think about any of us before you jumped? You should have seen Frankie. He was a mess out there when he first found out.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jane responds to Maura’s jab with her trademark pettiness. “I didn’t think about you.” She addresses Maura specifically. Only Maura. “The only person that I thought about was Paul and that I was the only one that could help him. I wasn’t gonna let him drown, Maura!”

They are nose to nose. Maura is crying and furious, and Jane is just furious. “But you were ok to just let me flounder the rest of my life, without you? You couldn’t let some man you don’t know and don’t like drown, but you love me and you were willing to let me mourn you for, god, all eternity? That’s how you show me you love me?!”

And just like that, with Maura shoving against her, Jane buckles. Maura, in her rage and in her sorrow, makes total sense. “Jesus Christ, babe. Jesus Christ,” Jane exclaims, more to herself than to Maura. She snatches Maura into a hug and squeezes with all her might. “Hey, I know, I know,” she says.

At first Maura resists, tries to push away from Jane’s affections, but then her heart bids her to succumb. So she does, and she tries to melt herself into the body around her. She gropes and grasps and holds, rubbing her hands over every surface of Jane they can find. She looks up, just as Jane is looking down, and decides whatever has stood between them, whatever has prevented them from being body to body, even if it’s Jane, can go to hell.

She presses their lips together, and sucks Jane’s soul out of her. She senses Jane’s feet becoming unsteady as she bites at Jane’s lips, as she wraps her own lips around the tip of Jane’s tongue, but she refuses to hold Jane up.

Jane stumbles forward, drawn in and made weak by the passion. She moans as their union grows sloppily wet and she can no longer breathe. She pulls her tongue back and kisses Maura seven, eight, nine times. And good fucking god, it tastes like human sun, like Maura herself is a fruit of which to partake, sweet and supple. Maura’s hands in her hair, on her cheeks, down her front, all of it smacks of homecoming. This is what she had missed? If only she had known, she would have considered letting Paul get swept away to sea. She’s soaking wet and she kisses again when Maura grabs on the sides of her belt and lifts.

“This… is what gives you the highest close rate in the commonwealth,” Maura says angrily, as if she is admitting something that she does not want to.

Jane senses a shift in their conversation and gives Maura one final peck to the side of the mouth before pulling away. “And maybe a little bit hard to love,” she adds. It says yes, I see you to at least some of the pain that Maura feels. “But I really, really hope you love me still.”

Maura doesn’t say it. Jane needs it and Maura withholds it. “I was so afraid that I’d lost you. To Paul fucking Westcourt,” she still has her arms wrapped around Jane’s shoulders as she confesses. “And… I just kept thinking that I didn’t do enough to help you. I… why didn’t I go and help you talk Paul down, or why didn’t I stop you from going over the railing? Why wasn’t I closer to grab you?”

Jane kisses her to drive away the frenzy. “There was nothin’ you coulda done on that bridge, ok? That’s on me. It’s a decision I made,” she says. She wants to kiss Maura a thousand more times, chase the flutter in her heart that it gives her, but Maura looks angry.

“And I’m saying that it was the wrong decision,” Maura says. She wants to pull away from Jane but all she can do is stare at Jane’s pink, swollen, moist lips. And then all she can do is remember the taste of them, like cinnamon coffee. Black, no sourness from creamer or dairy. Jane moves to protest, but Maura puts a finger to those lips. She has seen Susie loitering outside the door for several seconds, and sure enough, she knocks. “Come over tonight,” Maura tells Jane, “we need to talk.”

Jane kisses her finger with three short, loud smacks. “Jack gonna be home?”

Maura, for the first time since Jane drove them from BPD to East Boston the night before, remembers Jack. Shit.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet #4

The last snippet before CMWHS goes live 👀

Jane trudges up the last few steps to her building’s third story, where her condo is. She carries a six pack with one hand, and fishes for her keys with another. Her evenings have repeated this way for as long as she can remember, but she is extra tired today. Her heels feel numb in her boots and her shoulders slump when she finally makes it to her door.

She unlocks it, steps inside, and throws her keys on the countertop of her kitchen. She opens the door to her refrigerator, smiling at the already cold six pack of Blue Moon that waits for her. The one under her arm is its replacement, which she may or may not get to tonight. She thinks about how her father used to do this, how maybe, she learned this from him, and there is a moment of clarity - she is walking down a path, his path, that perhaps she should not be. His alcoholism has ramifications for their family to this day, and should she develop her own, it would devastate them. All of them. She takes one beer, suddenly soured on the taste, and goes to sit on the couch.

On the way, she pops its top off, and ruminates. Nina had put Jane in her fucking place. Jane had needed it, too. And Frankie, well, she’d almost killed him. For what, a little snark? And she’d only barely held it together at the Hicks house when they notified the parents. The father had made a comment about women in the workplace and Frankie gave Jane the evilest eye he could muster.

It saved their case.

Jane didn’t go apeshit on a civilian, and they got more information on the ex-boyfriend Jane thinks killed their victim. Joanna. She says Joanna’s name to herself aloud in her apartment. Just once, but with enough exasperated feeling to communicate her ache. In one name, Jane channels all of her stymied rage from the past week, the past month, the past three months, and makes it sound truly mournful. “Joanna,” she whispers again, just before she rubs her eyes with her hand.

The name that she really wants to say is Maura’s, but out of pride she does not allow herself. She huffs at that, too, because what the fuck is the point of all that Rizzoli ego? With or without it, she sits here, alone. And if she says Maura’s name, Maura sure as fuck can’t hear her. Since they met, a week is the longest they have gone without speaking. Literally. Whether for work or for pleasure, they have always talked at least once every seven days. During the best of times, the average could get up to once every seven minutes - thanks to the modern marvel of texting. Even their debacle over Paddy had only lasted seventy-two hours from start to finish.

So, what does she have to show for her pride? A life without Maura? Maura hasn’t reached out, but, Jane thinks, neither has she. And how the hell were they going to get anywhere if neither of them said a word? Christ almighty, Maura might actually be the one to get her to apologize for something.

Really, truly apologize. For her behavior, and her disregard of Maura’s feelings. Jane waves her knees on her busted, old couch and looks down at the beer between her legs, resting in her hands right at the apex of her hips. She hasn’t had much of it, and all she can think is that she wants sorry on her tongue a lot more than the wheaty beverage she’s been nursing. If she loves Maura, like she told Paul she did, she needs to get the hell up, and do something about it.

She nods once to herself for fortitude and lifts her ass off the couch. She snatches her keys back from the counter and decides on a midnight drive to Beacon Hill.

___

“Maura!” Jane calls into the home after using her key. All the lights are off except for the overhead one on the stove hood, which makes sense given the hour and Maura’s habits. “Maura!” she yells again, hoping that if Maura is awake, she’ll come running down the stairs to meet Jane where she stands.

Nothing.

Jane shrugs her blazer off and tosses it on the back of a stool at the island, intent on pouring the both of them a glass of wine to go with the conversation she is about to initiate. She’s warm, and she needs to gather herself. Her stomach rumbles and flops, reminding her that she’s had no dinner and that she’s about to admit fault for a whole host of wrongdoings. Either way, she goes to the cupboard to pull down two glasses, and when she does, she turns to place them on the counter.

She notices the set of keys for the first time then.

They are not Maura’s keys - Maura’s clean, organized, minimally bulky keys. No, they are hefty and dirty and they belong to Jack.

“God fucking dammit,” Jane bolts toward the stairs, wine forgotten. “Maura!” she shouts on her way up.

She sees only red. Wants it on her hands.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Chapter 8: ✅ 👀

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet #5

I did not finish chapter 11 today - work has run me ragged this week. But please, have a snippet until Tuesday when I post again.

When her phone rings and Maura’s name pops up on the caller ID, she’s a little glad that she can’t be seen, her outfit definitely meant more for comfort than for eliciting attraction. “Rizzoli,” she answers gruffly, teasing Maura right out of the gate.

“I think you’re trying to be funny, but I quite like it when you do that,” Maura counters just as skillfully.

Jane sputters. “Y-you do, huh?”

“I do,” says Maura. “How are you? I saw you taking files home.”

Jane sets her beer down and licks her lips. “You’re observant. I’m good. I’ve got the game on and I’m just tryin’ to make sure I’ve got all my ducks in a row before I go talk to Branden’s professors tomorrow.”

“And do you? Have all your ducks in a row?” Maura asks.

“Gettin’ there,” Jane replies. She looks up at the clock over her writing desk. “What’re you callin’ me for? I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” Maura says. She sighs. “But I have this compulsion to check in on you. It’s pretty annoying.”

“I am quite annoying, yes,” Jane responds snarkily. She opens the medical examiner report in Branden’s file and flips until she finds the page she’s looking for.

“Not what I meant and you know it,” Maura volleys back. “But even when I’m angry with you, I want to hear your voice.”

“I wanna hear your voice, too,” Jane says, but she’s distracted - she plants her feet on the ground and squints at the typeface in front of her. “I’m lookin’ at the tox report here, and I’m seein’ a high BAC. But what’s this one? Isopentyl nitrite?”

“Alkyl nitrites. A common party drug,” Maura explains. “Their origins lie in 19th century inhalable treatments for angina and menstrual cramps. But today, they’re used for their dilating properties, especially among gay men. They’re commonly known as-”

“Poppers,” Jane finishes. “Tommy used to party with a few guys that did this stuff.”

“Impressive,” Maura says. She revises when she realizes how that sounds. “Not that Tommy was into drugs, but you’ve always been good at making the science translatable.”

“Gee, thanks,” says Jane. “I know cause of death is multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, but do you think we should run a more in-depth panel? Maybe if I can figure out what substances he had in him, I can trace it back to what clubs are most known for them here in town.”

“I think… you should leave that train of thought until the morning,” Maura answers. She pauses for a few seconds to let the implications of her statement sink in. “We can review the details of the report in person, in my office.”

“But that’s not what you wanna talk about right now,” Jane surmises, and she can’t help the broad smile that attacks her face. She drops the file next to her on the couch and leans back into her cushions. “That’s not why you called.”

“Is that alright with you?” Maura always asks permission, even if she is pushy about it sometimes. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” Jane echoes, and fuck, the sweet way Maura has said it sends Jane’s hand down her pants already. Just to explore, to start slow, but she still starts. “It’s more than alright with me. What’re you up to?”

“Definitely not watching baseball,” Maura quips.

“That’s a shame. I’m always tellin’ you ya should,” Jane says.

Maura chuckles softly in her ear. “You are; that’s true. Maybe I will, someday soon,” she replies. “You’ll have to teach me the basics.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna come embarrassingly fast,” Jane grumbles.

“Duly noted, my love,” Maura laughs even more openly this time.

Jane wants to cry with how easy the pet name sounds tumbling out of Maura’s mouth. She settles for sniffing loudly. “God, I wanna hold onto you right now.”

“You’re always so affectionate,” Maura observes. “You’d think it’d clash with some of my… rougher needs, but we seem to complement each other perfectly.”

“That’s ‘cause I know how to be rough when I need to be,” says Jane.

Maura gasps. “That’s definitely true.”

“You gonna take off your clothes for me?” Jane asks, tired of dancing around the point.

“Who says I’m wearing any?” Maura teases. “It is bedtime, after all.”

“It’s 9:30. Not exactly bedtime, but I take your point,” Jane laughs deeply, once.

Maura sighs. “Jane?”

“Yeah?”

“Love on me, please,” she pleads, but not without her dignity. Jane will deliver without delay, she knows.

And Jane does.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

I didn’t finish chapter 11 in time to post chapter 3 this weekend, so y’all want a snippet?

[anthrofreshtodeath]

CMWHS Snippet

Not me making Jane as in love with Lady Gaga as I am 😂

“Practice talking about things that interest young girls,” Angela replies.

“I can do that,” says Maura. Angela raises a freshly-plucked eyebrow and frowns. “I can!” Maura assures her. “Try me.”

“What are your thoughts about Pretty Little Liars?” Angela interrogates, crossing her arms on the tabletop.

Maura feels confident she knows the answer, though she considers the question strange. “I don’t think it’s good to lie whether you’re pretty or little.”

Angela gasps. “Do you know who uh, Lady Antebellum is?”

Maura starts to feel as if maybe this isn’t going so well after all. “Is that a person?”

“How about Lady Gaga?”

Maura does know this one. She feels a little bit better. Only a little, though - she knows who Gaga is, but she also knows how Jane looks at Gaga: while they lounge on the couch together in front of E! News, with a cocky, assured smile, right before she tells Maura that Gaga is a nice, wholesome, Italian girl. So, out of spite for some pop star she’s never met, Maura pretends. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Might post CMWHS 11 tonight since I’m just going to be hanging out in my hotel. Also, I’m not saying *expect* WDW one shots/snippets, but I guess I am saying don’t be surprised if they arise 😂