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Love to Listen to You Talk About All That Comes to Mind

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Sometimes — alright, fine, a lot of the time — it was fun to interrupt Maura’s intense explanations with ever increasingly ridiculous questions. Jane liked to keep her face as serious as possible as she asked, so that Maura would narrow her eyes at her and try to deduce whether she was winding her up or not.

There was just something about that damn look, so scrutinising, that made Jane weak at the knees.

Not the only look that had that effect on her, it had to be said, but it was a good look all the same.

But other times, Jane didn’t want to tease Maura, or be on the receiving end of that suspicious look; she wanted to bask in something else, instead. She wanted to watch the light intensify in Maura’s eyes as she got caught up in her passion, she wanted to look over the way Maura’s muscles moved — God bless Maura’s love for vests and short sleeves — as she gestured to drive home her point, and she longed to hear how Maura’s voice became so enveloped in excitement that Jane couldn’t help but smile widely at the words she was saying.

“What’s so funny?”

Like now; except, usually, Jane was better at not getting caught staring at Maura in wonder.

“Nothing,” Jane insisted, getting up from the bench and wrapping her arms around Maura. She leant down and kissed Maura lightly on the nose, then on her lips.

“You were smiling at something,” Maura said, between kisses.

“You, of course,” Jane said, offering Maura her most charming grin. It was also the smile she used when she was trying to get away with something, so it was no surprise that Maura narrowed her eyes and gifted Jane with a suspicious look.

Truly, today was the gift that kept on giving.

Before Maura could ask anymore questions, Jane lowered her lips to Maura’s neck and traced gentle lines across the skin, leaving only the barest of touches but pulling forth a shiver of delight nonetheless. 

“Not got anything more to tell me about swans?” Jane whispered.

Jane swore she could feel Maura’s smile; like it shifted the very molecules of the air or something — yeah, yeah, Maura would tell her that was impossible, she knew.

“Are you sure you want me to tell you more about swans?”

“I like hearing you talk,” Jane said, “about swans or ducks or geese or… or… any other kind of water-loving birds.”

Maura was polite enough not to ask whether Jane had run out of examples, but the warm chuckle said it for her; Jane could never be annoyed at that beautiful sound, though, so she let it go.

“Go on,” she said, pulling back but leaving her arms around Maura’s waist, “finish what you were telling me.”

Jane didn’t understand about a third of what Maura rattled off next, though she often understood more than she let on — and she was not about to examine that particular defensive mechanism or how it came to be a part of her repertoire, thank you — but she understood enough, and the wonder in Maura’s voice filled in the rest.

Jane would care about many things an awful lot more, just as much as she cared about swans in that moment, if Maura was the one telling her about them.