FIC: Valentine's Victim (1/1)
Title: Valentine’s Victim
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon, Team
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Summary: Valentine’s Day wasn’t quite as bad as she expected it to be.
Notes: Sequel to Mistletoe Mischief, which I wrote for Ebony10, so it's AU. Jello-Forever February Challenge response. Prompt: Love Songs and response to 002: candy gram on mentalistprompt .
Valentine’s Victim
Teresa Lisbon was very much of the opinion that when one silly season ends, another one starts up to replace it. If it wasn’t Halloween, it was Christmas and if it wasn’t Christmas… well, the cycle was simply never ending. It was simply a case of the shops trying to make you part with your hard-earned cash to ‘celebrate’ whatever holiday they deemed necessary. Sometimes, she swore they just started making up extra in order to fill in a gap and make sure they don’t lose sales. And holidays always seemed to make criminals restless and thus, making her job even more difficult. People somehow seemed to find even more excuses to do heinous things to one another instead of the goodwill gestures that the seasons were meant to inspire.
She doesn’t mind St. Valentine’s Day too much, though, not compared to some of the others. It was easy enough to ignore if you tried hard enough and besides, it was almost as good an excuse to overindulge with chocolate as Easter was.
But that was her problem.
It was already two p.m. and she still hadn’t had even an ounce of candy. No, what was smaller than an ounce? A gram? Was that smaller? She shook her head and pouted slightly while picking up the pen to sign off on yet another form. The point was, this Valentine’s Day, when for the first time in years she was actually seeing somebody (sort of, kind of, in a weirdly complicated sort of manner, but that could be used to describe the entirety of her life anyway) and she still hadn’t had any sort of treat to pacify her rather voracious sweet tooth.
And that was just wrong.
The few weeks since Christmas had been… different to say the least. She still wasn’t quite sure if she’d forgiven the rest of the team for the stunt that they’d pulled at Minelli’s Christmas party, especially as people were still gossiping about it. But then again, while the kiss had been embarrassing at the time, the ones they’d shared subsequently, very much in private, had more than made up for it. It was strange though, opening up her life to Jane, when before she had been so very private. Six months ago, the idea of having him within a mile of her apartment would have made her cringe. Now, she was somewhat disappointed if he couldn’t come home with her for one reason or another. Apart from the kissing and spending a little more time with one another, their relationship hadn’t really changed much. No imperceptible shift inside, like a sudden wave of emotions. No butterflies in the stomach whenever she saw him. And she certainly didn’t want to sing about it from the rooftops. Lisbon guessed she was simply enjoying having someone share a little bit of the weight of day to day life with.
She hadn’t even seen Jane all day, something which she was finding quite disconcerting. The man might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. Scooping up all the appropriate paperwork to deliver to Minelli, she left her office and couldn’t stop herself from glancing across the bullpen, frowning when the couch was conspicuously empty. The rest of the team were all sort of working. Cho was focusing on his computer screen completely, suggesting that he had already finished his work and was currently getting frustrated with Solitaire. Rigsby, pen in one hand and a sandwich in the other, was staring at Van Pelt while she worked studiously, having seemingly managed to forget about both the objects he was holding. Lisbon knew she should really berate them and ask them where the hell Jane had disappeared off to, but quickly decided to give them an extra five minutes and finish her errands first. The case they were meant to be working on had hit a natural lull and it was simply a case of waiting for forensics to work their magic with the fingerprinting on the knife. If she’d known where Jane was, she would have gone to question the deceased’s ex-husband, the most likely suspect, again, but that wasn’t possible.
By six p.m., Lisbon was feeling rather irritated. Partially, because Jane had been AWOL all day and partially because the case was still stuck in a rut. The results of the fingerprinting had been delayed and when she and Cho had visited the husband, he had been so drunk that he’d ended up being hospitalized. She hated days where things just felt like they were going absolutely nowhere, so it was a relief to finally leave work and be able to head home. She jumped slightly when music blared out of the speakers, some terrible power ballad to suit the day’s festivities, filling her car. Something which, given the day and the complete lack of Jane, she really wasn’t in the mood for, especially after enduring them throughout all the rushing around dealing with their suspect. Scowling, she prodded at the buttons on the car radio until finally, the machine ceased to make an infernal racket. She really didn’t care that Celine Dion’s heart would go on and on (and on and on and on, or so it seemed) nor that Lady Gaga thought that she and her would be an excellent example of a bad romance. She snorted. Obviously Ms. Gaga had never actually met Jane. Lisbon knew that she cared deeply for Jane now and hoped that her feelings were reciprocated. That, however, did not change the fact she was sort-of dating a man who wanted to effectively throw his life away due to some hapless revenge quest. Jane’s obsession scared her a little (well, a lot) and she just wished there was a way that she could temper his fervor. But reminding Jane that life was worth living sometimes felt like as pointless a quest as trying to persuade a lion that vegetarianism was a good idea.
When she arrived home, she frowned almost instantaneously. Lisbon was careful when it came to locks, saving power and such, so when she saw her kitchen light was on, she knew immediately that something was amiss. Though, it didn’t take her long to realize what was probably going on and relax slightly. She’d wondered where her spare set of house keys had gone from her desk at work and had merely assumed that they had gotten piled under all the paperwork she’d absent-mindedly shoved in there. Tutting slightly, she realized she should have known that Jane had taken them; the question was how long ago? As quietly as possible, she opened the front door and crept inside, only for Jane to hear it click shut again, wheel around and beam at her.
“You’re earlier than I expected.”
“What are you doing here, Jane?”
In a couple of easy steps, he was by her side and took hold of one of her hands, lacing his fingers between hers. She wasn’t that easily distracted, however and just narrowed her eyes slightly in response.
“Surprise?”
“Well?”
“Dinner. I assume you were just going to have that frozen chicken dinner again if I hadn’t done something about it,” he answered, eventually. “There’s always far too much salt in them. Leaves you dehydrated. Causes headaches.”
“But…”
“And can’t I surprise you on Valentine’s Day, of all days?”
“Oh, I guess so,” she replied, giving up relatively quickly. “I’m not going to have much choice anyway, am I?”
“No,” he answered immediately, grinning broadly.
It didn’t take him long to serve the food and she sat, watching with eagle eyes as he fussed around her. Dinner was a quiet affair and they ate slowly, enjoying the strains of Beethoven rather than the uninspired love songs that seemed to be the theme of the day. With light conversation and good food, Lisbon slowly found herself relaxing, simply relieved that Jane hadn’t decided it would be a good idea to fall for all the kitsch that would have been so easy. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, with him pulling some kind of stunt like attempting to serenade her for a week, lavishing her with tacky gifts or possibly something even worse. But then again, that would all have been far too easy for him. At least this was nice…
She jumped when her smoke alarm cut through the peace and immediately glared at Jane before rushing towards the kitchen. Lisbon quickly threw open a couple of windows while he turned off the oven and pulled something out. He couldn’t believe he’d made such a basic mistake as forgetting to turn the oven off and promptly decided to blame Lisbon’s early arrival.
“Oops?” Jane spoke tentatively.
“What was that?”
As the billowing smoke finally died down, a shriveled, burnt mess appeared on the work surface. It looked far from edible. If anything, it looked as if it would break teeth if you even dared to try biting into it.
“It was meant to be a cake.”
“You’ve spent all day burning cakes instead of working?”
“Obviously.”
“Instead of trying to burn my house down, I’d have preferred it if you came into work, you know.”
“But it’s the thought that counts, right?”
With a shy nod, she rolled onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “So long as you do the washing up.”
end
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon, Team
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Summary: Valentine’s Day wasn’t quite as bad as she expected it to be.
Notes: Sequel to Mistletoe Mischief, which I wrote for Ebony10, so it's AU. Jello-Forever February Challenge response. Prompt: Love Songs and response to 002: candy gram on mentalistprompt .
Valentine’s Victim
Teresa Lisbon was very much of the opinion that when one silly season ends, another one starts up to replace it. If it wasn’t Halloween, it was Christmas and if it wasn’t Christmas… well, the cycle was simply never ending. It was simply a case of the shops trying to make you part with your hard-earned cash to ‘celebrate’ whatever holiday they deemed necessary. Sometimes, she swore they just started making up extra in order to fill in a gap and make sure they don’t lose sales. And holidays always seemed to make criminals restless and thus, making her job even more difficult. People somehow seemed to find even more excuses to do heinous things to one another instead of the goodwill gestures that the seasons were meant to inspire.
She doesn’t mind St. Valentine’s Day too much, though, not compared to some of the others. It was easy enough to ignore if you tried hard enough and besides, it was almost as good an excuse to overindulge with chocolate as Easter was.
But that was her problem.
It was already two p.m. and she still hadn’t had even an ounce of candy. No, what was smaller than an ounce? A gram? Was that smaller? She shook her head and pouted slightly while picking up the pen to sign off on yet another form. The point was, this Valentine’s Day, when for the first time in years she was actually seeing somebody (sort of, kind of, in a weirdly complicated sort of manner, but that could be used to describe the entirety of her life anyway) and she still hadn’t had any sort of treat to pacify her rather voracious sweet tooth.
And that was just wrong.
The few weeks since Christmas had been… different to say the least. She still wasn’t quite sure if she’d forgiven the rest of the team for the stunt that they’d pulled at Minelli’s Christmas party, especially as people were still gossiping about it. But then again, while the kiss had been embarrassing at the time, the ones they’d shared subsequently, very much in private, had more than made up for it. It was strange though, opening up her life to Jane, when before she had been so very private. Six months ago, the idea of having him within a mile of her apartment would have made her cringe. Now, she was somewhat disappointed if he couldn’t come home with her for one reason or another. Apart from the kissing and spending a little more time with one another, their relationship hadn’t really changed much. No imperceptible shift inside, like a sudden wave of emotions. No butterflies in the stomach whenever she saw him. And she certainly didn’t want to sing about it from the rooftops. Lisbon guessed she was simply enjoying having someone share a little bit of the weight of day to day life with.
She hadn’t even seen Jane all day, something which she was finding quite disconcerting. The man might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. Scooping up all the appropriate paperwork to deliver to Minelli, she left her office and couldn’t stop herself from glancing across the bullpen, frowning when the couch was conspicuously empty. The rest of the team were all sort of working. Cho was focusing on his computer screen completely, suggesting that he had already finished his work and was currently getting frustrated with Solitaire. Rigsby, pen in one hand and a sandwich in the other, was staring at Van Pelt while she worked studiously, having seemingly managed to forget about both the objects he was holding. Lisbon knew she should really berate them and ask them where the hell Jane had disappeared off to, but quickly decided to give them an extra five minutes and finish her errands first. The case they were meant to be working on had hit a natural lull and it was simply a case of waiting for forensics to work their magic with the fingerprinting on the knife. If she’d known where Jane was, she would have gone to question the deceased’s ex-husband, the most likely suspect, again, but that wasn’t possible.
By six p.m., Lisbon was feeling rather irritated. Partially, because Jane had been AWOL all day and partially because the case was still stuck in a rut. The results of the fingerprinting had been delayed and when she and Cho had visited the husband, he had been so drunk that he’d ended up being hospitalized. She hated days where things just felt like they were going absolutely nowhere, so it was a relief to finally leave work and be able to head home. She jumped slightly when music blared out of the speakers, some terrible power ballad to suit the day’s festivities, filling her car. Something which, given the day and the complete lack of Jane, she really wasn’t in the mood for, especially after enduring them throughout all the rushing around dealing with their suspect. Scowling, she prodded at the buttons on the car radio until finally, the machine ceased to make an infernal racket. She really didn’t care that Celine Dion’s heart would go on and on (and on and on and on, or so it seemed) nor that Lady Gaga thought that she and her would be an excellent example of a bad romance. She snorted. Obviously Ms. Gaga had never actually met Jane. Lisbon knew that she cared deeply for Jane now and hoped that her feelings were reciprocated. That, however, did not change the fact she was sort-of dating a man who wanted to effectively throw his life away due to some hapless revenge quest. Jane’s obsession scared her a little (well, a lot) and she just wished there was a way that she could temper his fervor. But reminding Jane that life was worth living sometimes felt like as pointless a quest as trying to persuade a lion that vegetarianism was a good idea.
When she arrived home, she frowned almost instantaneously. Lisbon was careful when it came to locks, saving power and such, so when she saw her kitchen light was on, she knew immediately that something was amiss. Though, it didn’t take her long to realize what was probably going on and relax slightly. She’d wondered where her spare set of house keys had gone from her desk at work and had merely assumed that they had gotten piled under all the paperwork she’d absent-mindedly shoved in there. Tutting slightly, she realized she should have known that Jane had taken them; the question was how long ago? As quietly as possible, she opened the front door and crept inside, only for Jane to hear it click shut again, wheel around and beam at her.
“You’re earlier than I expected.”
“What are you doing here, Jane?”
In a couple of easy steps, he was by her side and took hold of one of her hands, lacing his fingers between hers. She wasn’t that easily distracted, however and just narrowed her eyes slightly in response.
“Surprise?”
“Well?”
“Dinner. I assume you were just going to have that frozen chicken dinner again if I hadn’t done something about it,” he answered, eventually. “There’s always far too much salt in them. Leaves you dehydrated. Causes headaches.”
“But…”
“And can’t I surprise you on Valentine’s Day, of all days?”
“Oh, I guess so,” she replied, giving up relatively quickly. “I’m not going to have much choice anyway, am I?”
“No,” he answered immediately, grinning broadly.
It didn’t take him long to serve the food and she sat, watching with eagle eyes as he fussed around her. Dinner was a quiet affair and they ate slowly, enjoying the strains of Beethoven rather than the uninspired love songs that seemed to be the theme of the day. With light conversation and good food, Lisbon slowly found herself relaxing, simply relieved that Jane hadn’t decided it would be a good idea to fall for all the kitsch that would have been so easy. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, with him pulling some kind of stunt like attempting to serenade her for a week, lavishing her with tacky gifts or possibly something even worse. But then again, that would all have been far too easy for him. At least this was nice…
She jumped when her smoke alarm cut through the peace and immediately glared at Jane before rushing towards the kitchen. Lisbon quickly threw open a couple of windows while he turned off the oven and pulled something out. He couldn’t believe he’d made such a basic mistake as forgetting to turn the oven off and promptly decided to blame Lisbon’s early arrival.
“Oops?” Jane spoke tentatively.
“What was that?”
As the billowing smoke finally died down, a shriveled, burnt mess appeared on the work surface. It looked far from edible. If anything, it looked as if it would break teeth if you even dared to try biting into it.
“It was meant to be a cake.”
“You’ve spent all day burning cakes instead of working?”
“Obviously.”
“Instead of trying to burn my house down, I’d have preferred it if you came into work, you know.”
“But it’s the thought that counts, right?”
With a shy nod, she rolled onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “So long as you do the washing up.”
end