Date Night (part 1-3)
Date Night
Author:little_firestar
Artist:branquignole
Link to art: here
Word Count: ~8540
Rating:T
Summary:It all happens in one long night, and Jane and Lisbon’s first attempt at dating results in disaster. Between miscommunication issues, the police, a terrible dinner and an ex showing up, will Teresa admit defeat, or will she give her consultant a second chance at making it right?
Disclaimer:The Mentalist, created by Bruno Heller, is propriety of CBS Production. By writing this piece, I don’t claim any money
Notes:: Written for the 2013-14 Mentalist Big Bang on Live-journal; title from the 2012 movie featuring Tina Fey and Steve Carell, the story is set sometimes after the season 6 episode “My Blue Heaven”. Many thanks to my artist, branquignole who worked with me on a Mentalist Big Bang Project for the second year in a row.
The first time he had tried to ask Lisbon out on a date, she had blatantly refused him.
It had happened shortly after he had returned from his exile, and they had started to work together again. He had tried to be casual, and yet charming about it. At the end of the evening, he had opened her the car door and, stepping into her personal space, had looked at her adoringly. He had gotten so close she could have breathe his same air, and Jane had made eye-contact, lifting her chin with two fingers like a seasoned seducer, saying simply “Have dinner with me” in a low, seductive, matter-of-fact voice. It wasn’t really a question-because he was honestly convinced that Lisbon was interested in him, and had been for quite a while.
But then, she had said the words that no man wants to hear leaving his beloved’s lips. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I can’t date you.” And then, she had left, like she hadn’t been part of the spell that had fell upon him as soon as he had started looking into her marvelous, huge green eyes.
It had stung. He wasn’t going to lie about it, and after that, he didn’t know how to behave around her any longer. He had tried to make his intentions clear, but it had been useless. Her actions said she wasn’t interested in him, and yet he saw the lingering looks when she believed he wasn’t paying attention. He noticed how she behaved when another woman was around, trying to charm her way into his life. She was jealous and possessive of him, all signs that she was, indeed, interested in pursuing a relationship with him.
And even if he wasn’t so good at dating any longer, rusty after over a decade of celibacy, he was interested in her as well, and he didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t going to lie about it: he had tried to date after Angela’s death. But they had never really felt like dates.
At first, he thought it was because he felt guilty towards his late family, but after a while- and especially his “I am exiling myself for a while because I need to think about what’s going to be of my life now that Red John is gone, and also because I’m wanted for many crimes, murder the lesser of them ” leave of absence- he realized it wasn’t the case. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to date: he was simply dating the wrong women, and every time he had dinner with a member of the female species, it was always with the intention of kissing her goodnight, on the cheek, and then goodbye.
There was a woman, though, that he was (sort of) dating, and he was serious about. Someone he could see himself with in the long run- someone that he wanted to be with in the long run. And that woman was Lisbon. The same woman who didn’t (couldn’t, according to her words) date him.
So, he decided to use subterfuges to slowly manipulate her into accepting the fact that they were, indeed, dating. His first rule was to never use that word. Teresa Lisbon was afraid of commitment, and she probably knew that he was in for the long haul; she was scared to death by the prospective of spending the rest of her existence with him.
He also did his best to stop himself from telling herself exactly how much of a goner he was, that he had been crazy in love with her for the better part of a decade. And then, there was his favorite subterfuge: he often made her jealous. He let her believe he was dating other women- when all he was doing was going out with suspects and the sort to get information and confessions.
As long as he followed his rules and kept her in the dark, Teresa was ok with spending time with him, not seeing any harm in what they were pursuing.
“Hanging out”, she called it.
He hated that expression, because it made it sound like they were two teenagers with a crush, or even just siblings - brother and sister, like foolishly Cho had once said about them. But what was he supposed to do? He knew that he had to work (hard) to make room for himself in her heart and life: with dinners and breakfast, naps on her couch-both at the office, close to her desk, and at her place-sport games, outings and so on.
But after a while, he started to get mad.
She didn’t want to admit they were dating, and yet she wasn’t going out with any man- and, as much as he hated to admit it, she knew that when he was dating any woman it was only for work-related issues.
They had even gone to the opera together, once; he had worn a tuxedo, and Lisbon a long dress, and they had even gone to dinner in a nice, expensive restaurant afterwards. If she didn’t call it a date, what was it?
That had been the proverbial last drop, what had made him realize it was time to take action and make her understand where he stood and what he wanted with her-a real, adult relationship, and not a teenage romance or a sibling relationship.
So, he decided it was time to try again to formally ask her out on a date.
Only, when he dropped her at her place that afternoon and decided to drop the proverbial bomb on Lisbon, he got scared of her potential rejection, and instead of being a full of himself-sure as hell jackass, he just blurted something out that sounded awfully like. “So… some food later?”
At which she answered with a “Sure, see you at eight then,” before disappearing in her own apartment with a smile: all the evidence he needed to confirm the fact that no, she didn’t think he had just asked her out on a date.
Life wasn’t fair. Just when he needed to be sure of himself, charming and brilliant, he failed at it completely.
But maybe, if words escaped him, maybe he could make her understand his intentions with his actions: so, when he showed up at her door after having charmed his way into the one-month line to get a table at the greatest restaurant in town, he was wearing brand new clothes, shiny black shoes, had a tie and had even bough flowers for her. Red Roses- because as sophomoric as it could be, he needed to make her understand where he stood, and what was better than the flower of passion, carnal love and lust to open her eyes?
He waited in his car, sweating and huffing, for over a half-hour, and then he rang her doorbell at precisely eight of clock. She was smiling radiant when she opened the door, and yet her smile died when she saw how well-dressed he was, and what flowers he had in his hands; she was “only” wearing old jeans and a boyish t-shirt a couple of sizes too big.
“Oh.” She told him as soon as she saw the ensemble. “Oh.” She repeated again, this time a bit like a sigh. Jane shook his head- he guessed it was his fault. He should have told her that he had plans for her… Wait, no, he corrected himself. it sounds dirty. Like I wanted to lure her in bed. Not that I don’t want to, but… He hated being unsure about that woman, and yet, he didn’t know how to behave any differently. She was special- and any time he met someone that special in his life, he got lost.
“Uhm… can I go and get changed?” She asked, showing him inside. Jane followed her, and he immediately found a vase for the flowers, putting them where she would see them before leaving for their date, just to make his point a little bit more.
He told her to take her time- reservations were at nine- and then he went to take a nap on her couch, oblivious to her inner troubles, and fell asleep, engulfed by her lulling scent that still permeated the fabric.
She was desperate. And for the first time in her life, Teresa Lisbon wished to have some kind of deep female bound in the world, didn’t matter with whom. She had never been awkward, never been the kind of girl who tensed over a date; things had always gone well for her, despite the lack of female advice. She had always been sure of herself in her own skin, proud of how and who she was (even if she still whished for a few more centimeters).
That was why she thought that her current position was pretty pathetic. At almost forty, a woman like her wasn't supposed to go crazy because she was going out on a date, didn't matter that the guy was Patrick Jane, one of the finest specimens of the male population and…
She didn't know how to say it. It was just that Jane was Jane. It kind of said it all.
Or maybe, she was just scared. After all, they hadn’t been supposed to go out on a date together. She had believed it was going to be just something to eat like usual, and instead, he had showed himself at her doorstep clad with a brand new, shiny outfit and red roses. The flower of lust and desire.
Truth to be told, it was hard to explain what she was truly scared about, and Lisbon couldn't put herself the finger on it precisely. Maybe she was scared that, with Red John gone, he could just leave again, and this time once and for all; maybe she thought she wasn't enough for him, as, according to what she knew, his wife had been more or less an angel walking the Earth. Or maybe it was both those things, and much more at the same time.
She didn't know. It was just so confusing! A part of her really wanted for things go back in time, when they were just partners on their way to become friends and nothing more.
She huffed in annoyance, throwing yet another outfit on the bed, looking at the fabric with anger as she was a rabid dog. What the hell had happened to the woman who was so sure of herself, so confident in her own skin, that even higher ups, younger men and billionaires fell for her?
Patrick Jane had smiled his killer smile at her, that was what had happened; she mused, blushing. Lord, she thought, she was behaving like a girl at her first crush, and if she was so gone now, she couldn't even dare to think about kissing or....
She shook her head, almost ashamed of herself, blushing all over. There was no way that she was going to think about Patrick Jane in the nude while getting ready for said man. Nope. Actually, she was quite positive that the only thing she was supposed to think about right now was that Jane was alone, and she hated having him snooping around her place- having semi-boyfriend material cold-read you on a first date was absolutely a no-no in her book. That was why it hadn’t worked with Walt. Among other things.
“Lisbon? I know I said that reservations are at nine, but…” he shouted. His voice was close-too close-and, jumping, she realized he had to be on the other side of the door. That wasn’t good: the door wasn’t locked, and knowing Jane, there was a good chance that he was going to try to break and enter.
Just to find her in the nude.
Frantically, she went once again through the clothes and the lingerie she had thrown on her bed, racy, classy and everything in between, asking herself what could compliment his outfit without looking too much like they were trying too hard to be an actual match. Of course, there was also the fact that he was charming and sexy: she wanted to impress him, too, just like he had done with her.
Deciding to be brave, she took from her wardrobe a dark green, knee length halter dress, and, after three long years from the purchase, she finally took the price tag off. She didn’t remember why she had felt compelled to buy that dress in particular (she firmly refused to believe she had chosen it only because he had once told her that nuance of green complimented her eyes) and now she was grateful she did.
She put some adequate underwear on- a strapless black lacy bra with matching panties- and grabbed some high-heeled sandals (already knowing that the next day would have been hell for her feet) and a black stole. It wasn’t really her style, and yet she felt like it was. How could she explain it? No-nonsense cop Teresa Lisbon liked to play dressed-up every now and then as well. She was a woman, and maybe it was time to show it to the world.
She hastily opened her bedroom door, finding that Jane was indeed there, and she smiled, trying to look as causal and calm as possible- when both things were impossible. He was too much. It was too much. Everything she had ever dreamed since she had met him. And now it was reality. It was too good to be true.
“Nice outfit. New?” She asked. But Jane didn’t answer. He just looked at her, breast-level, with his mouth and eyes wide-open. He didn’t know if he was supposed to grin, whistle or just die on the spot. She was torturing him with sensual images she knew he couldn’t act on, the witch.
“Jane?” She asked, lifting his face with her right hand and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You all right?” She asked, clearly upset for him. That woman was a saint. He was a pervert walking and yet she thought about him. God. He wanted to take her in his arms, forget the reservations and make slow, gentle, sensual love to her all night long. And yet… he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her.
“Ugh. Why do you have to be so beautiful all the time? The things you do to me…” He sighed, and she smiled, blushing. He blushed as well, and barely resisted face-palming. He hadn’t wanted to say those things out loud. He had believed he was only thinking them, but then, Teresa had happened.
And Teresa was very good at taking away all self-control from him. Always had been.
“Shall we go?” She asked, taking his hand in her own. This was good. Jane wasn’t his usual self, sure of himself and egomaniacal. She could have a relationship with this Jane, who was as scared as she was. For once, they were equal in their relationship. They could navigate this waters together.
He had already opened her the car-door when Teresa shook her head, quite angry and annoyed. “Damn it. I forgot my purse. Only a moment.” She said, going back to her front door. But once there, she realized something.
She had put her keys in the black clutch purse she had left on her bed. The same purse she was supposed to get from home.
She went back to Jane’s car, and crossing her arms, extremely annoyed-with the situation and what she was about to ask - she knocked on his window. He opened the door and joined her, and he didn’t say a word, scared of saying something he wasn’t supposed to. He simply looked at her, scared that she would say she had changed her mind or something in that line.
They stared at each other for a good two minutes before she finally admitted what she needed. “You have to break and enter in my place, as I don’t have my keys and I can’t leave without them.”
“Uhm…ok?” He wasn’t asking, nor answering. He was a bit scared-part of him feared it was some kind of test- and he didn’t feel like being thrown out at the first date. And yet, he walked back to her apartment, and stopped dead in his track when, once on his knees, he saw what he was going to have to deal with.
“So?” She asked him, abruptly, tapping a feet on the concrete.
He stood and shook his head. “So, it’s an armored, brand new, state-issued door.” He simply told her. She looked at him, sternly like when they were on a case and he didn’t want to behave. “I don’t have any idea how I am supposed to force this one.” He finally admitted. Teresa grunted, massaging the bridge of her nose.
“Ok, ok… Find me a big, heavy stone. I’ll do it the old fashioned way, breaking a window.”
He reluctantly agreed to do as she was asking, and, when he joined her at the chosen window, he tried to throw the stone himself, with the result that he barely lifted it from the ground. Lisbon did it as it was the easiest task in the universe. Really. She definitely was going to be the one with the pants in their relationship- if he could still talk her into having a relationship at all.
The siren of the alarm started as soon as she was entering inside her apartment, forcing her way through the broken glass. .
"A pressure sensible alarm? Seriously, Lisbon?" He asked her, following her inside as she run to turn the damn sound off and restore tranquility. She just half-turned, giving him a stern look, her fingers pressing the keys on autopilot. She wondered if he knew why she had state of the art security at her place. Didn’t he know that the last years had been terrible, that, before the killer’s demise, every night she was scared that Red John would take her again, but killing her this time, drawing a smiley in her blood? Maybe he did. Maybe he did not. Either way, she didn’t care. Updating security, she had felt a little better, and the feeling had stayed with her even when she had left her old place, even after Red John had been long death. Even now that she was an FBI agent working in Austin.
“You know what? Just stay here and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t touch anything!” Jane lifted his hands in mock surrender, and then went back to sit on the couch; but when she was already halfway to her bedroom, he called for her. She turned, but before she could even just look at her “partner” to see what was wrong with him, she heard at her back a click, unmistakable- it couldn’t be otherwise in her line of work.
The noise of a gun.
"Police, freeze!" She lifted her hands just to be sure, and just like she had assumed here he was, at the end of the stairs, Jane with his hands up in the hair, and a young gun, a uniform who looked like a rookie- with trembling hands. She gasped and slowly joined them, scared that the kid could do something stupid, and then she stared at the fellow cop.
“Officer, I think you are making a mistake…”
Over two hours after the rookie had entered her place, Lisbon found herself sat in a corner of a small holding cell, with Jane in the one next to hers, busy screaming that the guy had a made a mistake, and that they didn’t know who they were dealing with.
She, on the other hand, had long ago stopped asking for anything.
The young cop had just brought them in, and said that they were to wait for his superior to come back before making their call. She had tried to explain him what was happening, but he hadn’t given her time to go and take her things, show him that yes, that was her place.
God. Local police were just cry-babies. How stupid could you be, to believe that a woman dressed in a hundreds dollar silk dress could try to break into an apartment? Yes, she had seen her good share of crazy things, but this?
“We need to call Cho.” Lisbon said, standing and starting to pace the cell. As soon as he saw her, Jane quieted, and looked at her like a lost puppy. Life wasn’t fair. He had tried to create the perfect date for her, be romantic and normal for once in his life, and that was the result.
He was in jail- again. Only this time, it wasn’t because of something he had done, nor a complicated plot to get whatever he wanted. The opposite, actually.
“Do you remember his number, Jane? Because I just know the number at the office, but I doubt he’ll be there at this time of the night…” Actually, Jane didn’t think he was at home, but with any luck, he maybe had his mobile turned on. After all, they were on call that weekend, didn’t matter if the Korean now had a life and a proper girlfriend. More or less.
“It doesn’t matter if I know his number or not. That guy over there,” he said lifting his voice of an octave, almost shouting, “isn’t allowing us to call, no matter what!” The aforementioned “guy” came in their direction, crossing, stern, his arms. He really seemed like the kind of rookie who didn’t know about grey areas or mercy. Lisbon sighed, and for a second she wished to be in the same cell as Jane. That way, she would have-literally- kicked his ass. Getting the guy mad wasn’t going the help them. But apparently, Jane hadn’t understood it in over ten years working alongside the police.
“I told you already. Once my boss will be back, you’ll get your call.”
“We shouldn’t even have to call!” Jane tried to explain. Now he was talking like Agent Russel was a five years old. Great. No matter what, now he would have never allowed them to call until the next morning, boss or no boss. “C’mon! Do you seriously think that such a hot chick would put on a hundreds dollar silk number to break and enter?”
“Jane!” She shrieked, filled with indignity. Of course she was glad he had noticed the dress- and its effect on her body- but it didn’t mean he could get away with being a male chauvinist. Despite this, though, he shook his head in amusement. It was good to be back to bickering like an old married couple, just like old time’s sake.
“What? It’s the truth! And anyway, if he wants to confirm your story all he has to do is google you! We took down Red John and a criminal empire! We were all over the internet! Hell, he could even just give a look at my wallet. There’s my driving license there. My ID! All he has to do is read a name and then checking it out on that shiny new computer on that dusty desk of his!”
“Jane! Drop it, now!” She hissed. Why, oh why couldn’t her partner avoid being a jackass for just once in a lifetime? He was supposed to know he was getting them in troubles-he had over a decade of experience, after all.
“No, I am not! He should drop this!” He said, looking at Lisbon, just to turn at the young officer, pointing a finger at him. “Like he should drop the annoying habit of smoking when he thinks no one is seeing. Are you blaming your co-workers when your girlfriend smells the smoke on your shirt when she wash them? Or… no, you are not. You are, instead… covering it, with perfume. Let me tell you something. I used to smoke, and all that commercials that say that their perfumes can eat away the smoke… they are bullshit.”
Two seconds later, when the officer’s fist collided with Jane’s nose through the bars of the cell, Lisbon would have sworn she heard the noise of broken bones. She clenched the bars, sighing. Now there was no way that they were going to be allowed to call for help before morning came.
And it was also a pity. She had liked Jane’s new outfit. Too bad now it was all bloody and ruined.
Author:little_firestar
Artist:branquignole
Link to art: here
Word Count: ~8540
Rating:T
Summary:It all happens in one long night, and Jane and Lisbon’s first attempt at dating results in disaster. Between miscommunication issues, the police, a terrible dinner and an ex showing up, will Teresa admit defeat, or will she give her consultant a second chance at making it right?
Disclaimer:The Mentalist, created by Bruno Heller, is propriety of CBS Production. By writing this piece, I don’t claim any money
Notes:: Written for the 2013-14 Mentalist Big Bang on Live-journal; title from the 2012 movie featuring Tina Fey and Steve Carell, the story is set sometimes after the season 6 episode “My Blue Heaven”. Many thanks to my artist, branquignole who worked with me on a Mentalist Big Bang Project for the second year in a row.
The first time he had tried to ask Lisbon out on a date, she had blatantly refused him.
It had happened shortly after he had returned from his exile, and they had started to work together again. He had tried to be casual, and yet charming about it. At the end of the evening, he had opened her the car door and, stepping into her personal space, had looked at her adoringly. He had gotten so close she could have breathe his same air, and Jane had made eye-contact, lifting her chin with two fingers like a seasoned seducer, saying simply “Have dinner with me” in a low, seductive, matter-of-fact voice. It wasn’t really a question-because he was honestly convinced that Lisbon was interested in him, and had been for quite a while.
But then, she had said the words that no man wants to hear leaving his beloved’s lips. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I can’t date you.” And then, she had left, like she hadn’t been part of the spell that had fell upon him as soon as he had started looking into her marvelous, huge green eyes.
It had stung. He wasn’t going to lie about it, and after that, he didn’t know how to behave around her any longer. He had tried to make his intentions clear, but it had been useless. Her actions said she wasn’t interested in him, and yet he saw the lingering looks when she believed he wasn’t paying attention. He noticed how she behaved when another woman was around, trying to charm her way into his life. She was jealous and possessive of him, all signs that she was, indeed, interested in pursuing a relationship with him.
And even if he wasn’t so good at dating any longer, rusty after over a decade of celibacy, he was interested in her as well, and he didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t going to lie about it: he had tried to date after Angela’s death. But they had never really felt like dates.
At first, he thought it was because he felt guilty towards his late family, but after a while- and especially his “I am exiling myself for a while because I need to think about what’s going to be of my life now that Red John is gone, and also because I’m wanted for many crimes, murder the lesser of them ” leave of absence- he realized it wasn’t the case. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to date: he was simply dating the wrong women, and every time he had dinner with a member of the female species, it was always with the intention of kissing her goodnight, on the cheek, and then goodbye.
There was a woman, though, that he was (sort of) dating, and he was serious about. Someone he could see himself with in the long run- someone that he wanted to be with in the long run. And that woman was Lisbon. The same woman who didn’t (couldn’t, according to her words) date him.
So, he decided to use subterfuges to slowly manipulate her into accepting the fact that they were, indeed, dating. His first rule was to never use that word. Teresa Lisbon was afraid of commitment, and she probably knew that he was in for the long haul; she was scared to death by the prospective of spending the rest of her existence with him.
He also did his best to stop himself from telling herself exactly how much of a goner he was, that he had been crazy in love with her for the better part of a decade. And then, there was his favorite subterfuge: he often made her jealous. He let her believe he was dating other women- when all he was doing was going out with suspects and the sort to get information and confessions.
As long as he followed his rules and kept her in the dark, Teresa was ok with spending time with him, not seeing any harm in what they were pursuing.
“Hanging out”, she called it.
He hated that expression, because it made it sound like they were two teenagers with a crush, or even just siblings - brother and sister, like foolishly Cho had once said about them. But what was he supposed to do? He knew that he had to work (hard) to make room for himself in her heart and life: with dinners and breakfast, naps on her couch-both at the office, close to her desk, and at her place-sport games, outings and so on.
But after a while, he started to get mad.
She didn’t want to admit they were dating, and yet she wasn’t going out with any man- and, as much as he hated to admit it, she knew that when he was dating any woman it was only for work-related issues.
They had even gone to the opera together, once; he had worn a tuxedo, and Lisbon a long dress, and they had even gone to dinner in a nice, expensive restaurant afterwards. If she didn’t call it a date, what was it?
That had been the proverbial last drop, what had made him realize it was time to take action and make her understand where he stood and what he wanted with her-a real, adult relationship, and not a teenage romance or a sibling relationship.
So, he decided it was time to try again to formally ask her out on a date.
Only, when he dropped her at her place that afternoon and decided to drop the proverbial bomb on Lisbon, he got scared of her potential rejection, and instead of being a full of himself-sure as hell jackass, he just blurted something out that sounded awfully like. “So… some food later?”
At which she answered with a “Sure, see you at eight then,” before disappearing in her own apartment with a smile: all the evidence he needed to confirm the fact that no, she didn’t think he had just asked her out on a date.
Life wasn’t fair. Just when he needed to be sure of himself, charming and brilliant, he failed at it completely.
But maybe, if words escaped him, maybe he could make her understand his intentions with his actions: so, when he showed up at her door after having charmed his way into the one-month line to get a table at the greatest restaurant in town, he was wearing brand new clothes, shiny black shoes, had a tie and had even bough flowers for her. Red Roses- because as sophomoric as it could be, he needed to make her understand where he stood, and what was better than the flower of passion, carnal love and lust to open her eyes?
He waited in his car, sweating and huffing, for over a half-hour, and then he rang her doorbell at precisely eight of clock. She was smiling radiant when she opened the door, and yet her smile died when she saw how well-dressed he was, and what flowers he had in his hands; she was “only” wearing old jeans and a boyish t-shirt a couple of sizes too big.
“Oh.” She told him as soon as she saw the ensemble. “Oh.” She repeated again, this time a bit like a sigh. Jane shook his head- he guessed it was his fault. He should have told her that he had plans for her… Wait, no, he corrected himself. it sounds dirty. Like I wanted to lure her in bed. Not that I don’t want to, but… He hated being unsure about that woman, and yet, he didn’t know how to behave any differently. She was special- and any time he met someone that special in his life, he got lost.
“Uhm… can I go and get changed?” She asked, showing him inside. Jane followed her, and he immediately found a vase for the flowers, putting them where she would see them before leaving for their date, just to make his point a little bit more.
He told her to take her time- reservations were at nine- and then he went to take a nap on her couch, oblivious to her inner troubles, and fell asleep, engulfed by her lulling scent that still permeated the fabric.
She was desperate. And for the first time in her life, Teresa Lisbon wished to have some kind of deep female bound in the world, didn’t matter with whom. She had never been awkward, never been the kind of girl who tensed over a date; things had always gone well for her, despite the lack of female advice. She had always been sure of herself in her own skin, proud of how and who she was (even if she still whished for a few more centimeters).
That was why she thought that her current position was pretty pathetic. At almost forty, a woman like her wasn't supposed to go crazy because she was going out on a date, didn't matter that the guy was Patrick Jane, one of the finest specimens of the male population and…
She didn't know how to say it. It was just that Jane was Jane. It kind of said it all.
Or maybe, she was just scared. After all, they hadn’t been supposed to go out on a date together. She had believed it was going to be just something to eat like usual, and instead, he had showed himself at her doorstep clad with a brand new, shiny outfit and red roses. The flower of lust and desire.
Truth to be told, it was hard to explain what she was truly scared about, and Lisbon couldn't put herself the finger on it precisely. Maybe she was scared that, with Red John gone, he could just leave again, and this time once and for all; maybe she thought she wasn't enough for him, as, according to what she knew, his wife had been more or less an angel walking the Earth. Or maybe it was both those things, and much more at the same time.
She didn't know. It was just so confusing! A part of her really wanted for things go back in time, when they were just partners on their way to become friends and nothing more.
She huffed in annoyance, throwing yet another outfit on the bed, looking at the fabric with anger as she was a rabid dog. What the hell had happened to the woman who was so sure of herself, so confident in her own skin, that even higher ups, younger men and billionaires fell for her?
Patrick Jane had smiled his killer smile at her, that was what had happened; she mused, blushing. Lord, she thought, she was behaving like a girl at her first crush, and if she was so gone now, she couldn't even dare to think about kissing or....
She shook her head, almost ashamed of herself, blushing all over. There was no way that she was going to think about Patrick Jane in the nude while getting ready for said man. Nope. Actually, she was quite positive that the only thing she was supposed to think about right now was that Jane was alone, and she hated having him snooping around her place- having semi-boyfriend material cold-read you on a first date was absolutely a no-no in her book. That was why it hadn’t worked with Walt. Among other things.
“Lisbon? I know I said that reservations are at nine, but…” he shouted. His voice was close-too close-and, jumping, she realized he had to be on the other side of the door. That wasn’t good: the door wasn’t locked, and knowing Jane, there was a good chance that he was going to try to break and enter.
Just to find her in the nude.
Frantically, she went once again through the clothes and the lingerie she had thrown on her bed, racy, classy and everything in between, asking herself what could compliment his outfit without looking too much like they were trying too hard to be an actual match. Of course, there was also the fact that he was charming and sexy: she wanted to impress him, too, just like he had done with her.
Deciding to be brave, she took from her wardrobe a dark green, knee length halter dress, and, after three long years from the purchase, she finally took the price tag off. She didn’t remember why she had felt compelled to buy that dress in particular (she firmly refused to believe she had chosen it only because he had once told her that nuance of green complimented her eyes) and now she was grateful she did.
She put some adequate underwear on- a strapless black lacy bra with matching panties- and grabbed some high-heeled sandals (already knowing that the next day would have been hell for her feet) and a black stole. It wasn’t really her style, and yet she felt like it was. How could she explain it? No-nonsense cop Teresa Lisbon liked to play dressed-up every now and then as well. She was a woman, and maybe it was time to show it to the world.
She hastily opened her bedroom door, finding that Jane was indeed there, and she smiled, trying to look as causal and calm as possible- when both things were impossible. He was too much. It was too much. Everything she had ever dreamed since she had met him. And now it was reality. It was too good to be true.
“Nice outfit. New?” She asked. But Jane didn’t answer. He just looked at her, breast-level, with his mouth and eyes wide-open. He didn’t know if he was supposed to grin, whistle or just die on the spot. She was torturing him with sensual images she knew he couldn’t act on, the witch.
“Jane?” She asked, lifting his face with her right hand and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You all right?” She asked, clearly upset for him. That woman was a saint. He was a pervert walking and yet she thought about him. God. He wanted to take her in his arms, forget the reservations and make slow, gentle, sensual love to her all night long. And yet… he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her.
“Ugh. Why do you have to be so beautiful all the time? The things you do to me…” He sighed, and she smiled, blushing. He blushed as well, and barely resisted face-palming. He hadn’t wanted to say those things out loud. He had believed he was only thinking them, but then, Teresa had happened.
And Teresa was very good at taking away all self-control from him. Always had been.
“Shall we go?” She asked, taking his hand in her own. This was good. Jane wasn’t his usual self, sure of himself and egomaniacal. She could have a relationship with this Jane, who was as scared as she was. For once, they were equal in their relationship. They could navigate this waters together.
He had already opened her the car-door when Teresa shook her head, quite angry and annoyed. “Damn it. I forgot my purse. Only a moment.” She said, going back to her front door. But once there, she realized something.
She had put her keys in the black clutch purse she had left on her bed. The same purse she was supposed to get from home.
She went back to Jane’s car, and crossing her arms, extremely annoyed-with the situation and what she was about to ask - she knocked on his window. He opened the door and joined her, and he didn’t say a word, scared of saying something he wasn’t supposed to. He simply looked at her, scared that she would say she had changed her mind or something in that line.
They stared at each other for a good two minutes before she finally admitted what she needed. “You have to break and enter in my place, as I don’t have my keys and I can’t leave without them.”
“Uhm…ok?” He wasn’t asking, nor answering. He was a bit scared-part of him feared it was some kind of test- and he didn’t feel like being thrown out at the first date. And yet, he walked back to her apartment, and stopped dead in his track when, once on his knees, he saw what he was going to have to deal with.
“So?” She asked him, abruptly, tapping a feet on the concrete.
He stood and shook his head. “So, it’s an armored, brand new, state-issued door.” He simply told her. She looked at him, sternly like when they were on a case and he didn’t want to behave. “I don’t have any idea how I am supposed to force this one.” He finally admitted. Teresa grunted, massaging the bridge of her nose.
“Ok, ok… Find me a big, heavy stone. I’ll do it the old fashioned way, breaking a window.”
He reluctantly agreed to do as she was asking, and, when he joined her at the chosen window, he tried to throw the stone himself, with the result that he barely lifted it from the ground. Lisbon did it as it was the easiest task in the universe. Really. She definitely was going to be the one with the pants in their relationship- if he could still talk her into having a relationship at all.
The siren of the alarm started as soon as she was entering inside her apartment, forcing her way through the broken glass. .
"A pressure sensible alarm? Seriously, Lisbon?" He asked her, following her inside as she run to turn the damn sound off and restore tranquility. She just half-turned, giving him a stern look, her fingers pressing the keys on autopilot. She wondered if he knew why she had state of the art security at her place. Didn’t he know that the last years had been terrible, that, before the killer’s demise, every night she was scared that Red John would take her again, but killing her this time, drawing a smiley in her blood? Maybe he did. Maybe he did not. Either way, she didn’t care. Updating security, she had felt a little better, and the feeling had stayed with her even when she had left her old place, even after Red John had been long death. Even now that she was an FBI agent working in Austin.
“You know what? Just stay here and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t touch anything!” Jane lifted his hands in mock surrender, and then went back to sit on the couch; but when she was already halfway to her bedroom, he called for her. She turned, but before she could even just look at her “partner” to see what was wrong with him, she heard at her back a click, unmistakable- it couldn’t be otherwise in her line of work.
The noise of a gun.
"Police, freeze!" She lifted her hands just to be sure, and just like she had assumed here he was, at the end of the stairs, Jane with his hands up in the hair, and a young gun, a uniform who looked like a rookie- with trembling hands. She gasped and slowly joined them, scared that the kid could do something stupid, and then she stared at the fellow cop.
“Officer, I think you are making a mistake…”
Over two hours after the rookie had entered her place, Lisbon found herself sat in a corner of a small holding cell, with Jane in the one next to hers, busy screaming that the guy had a made a mistake, and that they didn’t know who they were dealing with.
She, on the other hand, had long ago stopped asking for anything.
The young cop had just brought them in, and said that they were to wait for his superior to come back before making their call. She had tried to explain him what was happening, but he hadn’t given her time to go and take her things, show him that yes, that was her place.
God. Local police were just cry-babies. How stupid could you be, to believe that a woman dressed in a hundreds dollar silk dress could try to break into an apartment? Yes, she had seen her good share of crazy things, but this?
“We need to call Cho.” Lisbon said, standing and starting to pace the cell. As soon as he saw her, Jane quieted, and looked at her like a lost puppy. Life wasn’t fair. He had tried to create the perfect date for her, be romantic and normal for once in his life, and that was the result.
He was in jail- again. Only this time, it wasn’t because of something he had done, nor a complicated plot to get whatever he wanted. The opposite, actually.
“Do you remember his number, Jane? Because I just know the number at the office, but I doubt he’ll be there at this time of the night…” Actually, Jane didn’t think he was at home, but with any luck, he maybe had his mobile turned on. After all, they were on call that weekend, didn’t matter if the Korean now had a life and a proper girlfriend. More or less.
“It doesn’t matter if I know his number or not. That guy over there,” he said lifting his voice of an octave, almost shouting, “isn’t allowing us to call, no matter what!” The aforementioned “guy” came in their direction, crossing, stern, his arms. He really seemed like the kind of rookie who didn’t know about grey areas or mercy. Lisbon sighed, and for a second she wished to be in the same cell as Jane. That way, she would have-literally- kicked his ass. Getting the guy mad wasn’t going the help them. But apparently, Jane hadn’t understood it in over ten years working alongside the police.
“I told you already. Once my boss will be back, you’ll get your call.”
“We shouldn’t even have to call!” Jane tried to explain. Now he was talking like Agent Russel was a five years old. Great. No matter what, now he would have never allowed them to call until the next morning, boss or no boss. “C’mon! Do you seriously think that such a hot chick would put on a hundreds dollar silk number to break and enter?”
“Jane!” She shrieked, filled with indignity. Of course she was glad he had noticed the dress- and its effect on her body- but it didn’t mean he could get away with being a male chauvinist. Despite this, though, he shook his head in amusement. It was good to be back to bickering like an old married couple, just like old time’s sake.
“What? It’s the truth! And anyway, if he wants to confirm your story all he has to do is google you! We took down Red John and a criminal empire! We were all over the internet! Hell, he could even just give a look at my wallet. There’s my driving license there. My ID! All he has to do is read a name and then checking it out on that shiny new computer on that dusty desk of his!”
“Jane! Drop it, now!” She hissed. Why, oh why couldn’t her partner avoid being a jackass for just once in a lifetime? He was supposed to know he was getting them in troubles-he had over a decade of experience, after all.
“No, I am not! He should drop this!” He said, looking at Lisbon, just to turn at the young officer, pointing a finger at him. “Like he should drop the annoying habit of smoking when he thinks no one is seeing. Are you blaming your co-workers when your girlfriend smells the smoke on your shirt when she wash them? Or… no, you are not. You are, instead… covering it, with perfume. Let me tell you something. I used to smoke, and all that commercials that say that their perfumes can eat away the smoke… they are bullshit.”
Two seconds later, when the officer’s fist collided with Jane’s nose through the bars of the cell, Lisbon would have sworn she heard the noise of broken bones. She clenched the bars, sighing. Now there was no way that they were going to be allowed to call for help before morning came.
And it was also a pity. She had liked Jane’s new outfit. Too bad now it was all bloody and ruined.