seriousfic

Title: Lazy Sunday
Fandom: Rizzoli & Isles
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 966
Characters/Pairings: Rizzoli/Isles
Summary: Rizzoli and Isles decide to sleep in on their day off. That's it. That's the whole plot.

The alarm radio rang and Rizzoli jerked up, waking Isles, who could've slept through 'Ride of the Valkyries' if it weren't for being wrapped around Rizzoli. After a moment of disorientation, Rizzoli folded Isles back under her arm and laid down. She turned the radio off with one satisfyingly crocked finger. "Go back to sleep, Maura, it's our day off."

Isles turned her pillow over and smothered herself in it. "Then why'd you set the alarm?"

"Because the absolute best feeling in the world is waking up and realizing you don't have to get out of bed."

Isles turned her head so she could see Rizzoli's smile. It was kind of like making a discovery, getting a test in positive after too many negatives. She let her fingers stroke the underside of Rizzoli's throat, which among certain populations of the Sudan showed Sapphic interest by emphasizing the lack of facial hair.

"The absolute best?"

"You're the unspoken exception. Like when I talk about Davonni's chocolate cake and say it's the best thing I've ever tasted…"

"When really it's that crumb cake I made you for your birthday?"

"Yes, what else could it be?" Rizzoli let it go to wrestle Isles under her, using that adorable beer belly that came from sitting in a lab all day as pillow.

"You know, there are certain big cats that use sleeping positions to assert their dominance over the pride."

Rizzoli looped her arm around the smooth, toned length of Isles' leg. She was so good about jogging. "I'm a tiger, baby. Grr," Rizzoli deadpanned.

"What do you plan to do in your capacity of pride leader?" As always, it was hard to tell if Isles was being deadpan or not.

"We stay in bed all day. Morning, we enjoy this Posturepedic mattress you thought would make a good Christmas present. Afternoon, we play Bad Cop, Willing Suspect. And in the evening, we order pizza and watch True Blood."

"We really should have a healthy meal earlier in the day, and exercise to balance out the low nutritional value of Italian pizza."

"As opposed to Chinese pizza?" Rizzoli patted Isles' firm thigh. "Fine, as part of the deal you'll cut, perp, you can bring me salad in bed. And then I'll give you all the exercise you can handle."

Isles' caressing of Rizzoli's hair showed she liked the idea. "Your hair is very glossy. You must eat a lot of B vitamins."

"I try." Rizzoli worked her way between Isles' legs, enjoying the way the weight fell on her. "Tell me more about how pretty I am. I'm a girl. I can take it."

It was then the phone decided to ring. A gunshot would've broken Rizzoli's equilibrium less.

"Get that for me, would you, beta?"

Isles wiggled over to the bedstand, kicking when Rizzoli stayed latched on to her lower body. Finally, she managed to snag the phone and pass it to her girlfriend.

"Hello?" Rizzoli answered.

"Jane, it's your mother. Did you hear that Ellen and her lady friend are adopting a baby? I just saw it on Fox News."

"Yes, mother, it's in the lesbian newsletter. Could you talk to me later, I have a big case. Lots of casework. Bye mom." She hung up.

"You don't feel the slightest bit guilty about that?" Isles asked.

Rizzoli nuzzled against her. "You do have a mother, right Maura?"

The phone rang again. "That's mine," Isles said.

"Who else would have James Tenney for their ringtone?"

"The glissando produces tones that are each a golden ratio below the prior."

"We speak English in this house."

Isles answered. "Hello? Mrs. Rizzoli, hello. Yes, I did hear that Ms. DeGeneres is adopting."

Rizzoli grabbed the phone from her. "Mom, why are you calling Maura?"

"I can't talk to my stepdaughter?"

"She's not your stepdaughter! We're not getting married!"

"You know, just because you're not interested in men, doesn't mean children are out of the picture. There's not only adoption, there's artificial insemination."

"Not a single part of that sentence logically follows from anything I've said. Ever."

"I'm just saying, I carried you in my womb for nine months, but it's fine if you don't want to carry a little bundle of granddaughter. But the least you could do is adopt. Do you know how bad the foster care system is? It's on Sixty Minutes. And meanwhile, you and Maura have such an empty home…"

"No we don't! We don't live together!"

"Of course not, it'd be living in sin. But we live in Massachusetts! It's the state that's daring you to have a gay wedding. And you'd look so darling in a white gown…"

"Ma, I have to go back to work. The FBI is here, they want to know if we have any leads on Al-Qaeda."

"Al-Qaeda? Should I drive to your aunt's house? It's in Brookline."

"Yes. You should go there right now. But don't use your cell phone, it might be booby-trapped."

Isles snatched the phone away from her. "Mrs. Rizzoli, we haven't found any evidence of boobies. It's safe to stay in your home."

Rizzoli put Isles in a bear hug, getting the phone close to her mouth. "Ma, who are you gonna believe, me or Maura?"

"…Jane, I'd better stay in. You know True Blood is on tonight."

"Okay, Ma, fine. Call you later." She hung up. "I'm not calling her later." Rizzoli dropped down to the bed for a moment before jerking back up. "I'm taking a shower."

Isles laid around, until she heard the shower running. The bed, orthopedically correct or not, just wasn't as comfortable without Rizzoli in it. So she got up to join her in the shower. It wouldn't be as comfortable, but it would be a damn sight more interesting.