2 Works by reagancrew in Rizzoli & Isles
kathyisweird over on tumblr prompted: Rizzles, slow dancing, jukebox. She let me pick the song. Yes, I really do have them dance to Don McLean's 'American Pie.' No, this is, unfortunately, not real life.
“Have you made a list?” She’d asked. And waited and waited and waited. At one in the morning, her legs were asleep, and Jane was drunk, head lolling back against the fridge. The soup never got made. The beer stained the wall. Jane listed them for her, the ones she knew:
• Touching her shoulders from behind. Her wrists. Her hands. Her neck.
• Dark rooms.
• Rooms with no windows.
• Going down the stairs.
• Her own perfume: lavender.
• Knifes. Needles. When someone else was holding them.
• The scent of uncooked meat. Mothballs. Gasoline
Post-Hoyt. Pre-1x01. Rizzles.