Spoilers/Timeline: None/Set in the future
A/N: I know, I know, I'm rushing things, but I'm nothing if not a sucker for a holiday fic.
Disclaimer: The Mentalist doesn't belong to me; Title from Josh Groban's Thankful.
She shook her head and stepped away from the window, wondering how long it would take to scrub the white film off.
It was ridiculous, really. They rarely, if ever, got snow and now she had it sprayed all over the windows in her kitchen.
Christmas spirit and getting into the swing of things and all that.
Damn Jane and his persuasive glee.
Leaning against the door frame, she watched the man in question fight with strand of lights at his feet. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth in concentration, his hands working methodically as his eyes scanned the room.
Figuring out where he could hide the mistletoe, no doubt.
(Not that she minded.
No, that was the one decoration she'd take full advantage of.
Only in her own home, of course.)
She followed his gaze, grinning at the handcuff ornaments he'd hung from silver garland wrapped around the base of her candles. Never would she have believed he'd convince her to decorate so thoroughly.
It wasn't that she hated celebrating or found the whole ordeal to be frivolous, it was just...
There would always be certain days and holidays—moments—that would remind her of her past.
Of strewn beer bottles with elf labels and stressing over whether to serve ham or turkey for dinner.
Wondering where she could come up with one more gift for her brothers.
He'd poked and prodded, hinted relentlessly, though and now she was actually glad he had. That he hadn't backed down (as if he'd ever) and let her see it was all right to want to create some new memories.
Also, there was something about Jane humming Winter Wonderland, wearing the red and green plaid vest she'd jokingly bought him as he worked.
Laughing, she pushed away from the wall and pointed to the other end of the room. "That line should go across the top of the TV instead of around another door frame."
"I thought you said that would look... now what was the word, dear? Gaudy?" He smiled, eyes dancing as he continued to pull at the tangled lights.
"I believe I compared it to Las Vegas, but..." She shrugged, slipping back into the kitchen for a moment.
He laughed, long and low, watching her go. He didn't need to be a mentalist to know, to understand, her. No, that privilege came from so much time spent together, from growing even closer over the past year and three quarters.
Still, there was something exhilarating in knowing the exact moment when she'd changed her mind, decided that if she was going to decorate she might as well just go for it. It manifested in her eyes, of course, and her jawline and even—he sighed, the corner of his mouth lifting—in the way she stood, left foot in front of right.
"...dn't realize you'd be wearing them as decoration..."
"Hmm?" He glanced towards her, eyebrow raising in question as she set two steaming mugs on the coffee table and began walking towards him.
"You're tangled in the lights, Jane."
She bit the inside of her cheek attempting to look as grave as possible as he glanced down and discovered that that was, in fact, the case. Somehow, in the five minutes she'd spent pouring the warm wine, he'd managed to wrap the cord of the lights around his legs.
If it wasn't something she'd heard her nephews complain about year after year, she'd be inclined to think that someone from the team had snuck in and tied him up just to get back at him for fruitcake he'd put in their stockings.
"Well, are you going to help me or not?" He turned in place, shoulders rolling as he fought against the restraints.
"I don't know, you're a lot less trouble this way and..." Crouching down, she grabbed the plug to the lights, looping it through the wire and gazing up at him through half hooded eyes. "There's something thrilling about having you at my mercy..."
"You're trying to kill me now, is that it?"
"Possibly." She grinned, raising her eyebrows at him before beginning to unwind the lights once more. "I knew I should have just done this to begin with."
"Tied me up?" His dimple deepened, hand cupping her shoulder, as she inhaled sharply and pulled the end of the lights away from him. "I assure you, Lisbon, I'd willingly—"
"No, though that's always good to know." Standing, she draped the lights across the back of the couch, calculating the best place to plug them in. "I meant, the manual labor. Not really, your cup of tea."
"No, it's not." A soft smile spread across his face, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he stepped closer to her, his chest pressing against her back. "I wanted to though."
It was soft, barely a whisper floating over her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him as his fingers laced through hers.
Feeling him start to say more, to explain how he'd wanted her to know he'd go out of his way for her, that he'd wanted her to understand that it was ok to let go of the past, she squeezed his hand.
He wasn't the only one in this relationship that didn't need words to know.
"Come on, let's finish decorating before the wassail gets cold."
"Wassail?" He picked up the opposite end of the lights and began winding it through her bookshelves. "No wonder I didn't hear the kettle."
"And you're supposed to be observant." She winked, rocking up on her toes to help guide the lights.
The mock horror on his face quickly disappeared as their eyes met and he saw the complete joy and relaxation flickering in hers. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so happy.
Sure, they were less guarded around each other now (always had been to a certain degree) but it made him lightheaded to know he was partially responsible for it. Not even prolonging their banter could make the moment better.
Quietly they finished twisting the lights through her shelves and over—he steadied his balance, hand landing low on her hip as he reached high—the top of her entertainment center.
"Quite festive, I like it."
Turning slowly, she nodded. "Me, too."
Brushing her lips over his jaw, she walked back to the table and grabbed their mugs. He was already on the couch when she returned, legs crossed, head tipped back.
Wordlessly, she lowered herself next to him, handing him his mug and relaxing into his embrace. The glow of the lights surrounded them, drifting happily through the curl of his hair, clinging to his eyelashes, and she smiled as he took a long sip of the wine and grinned.
The silence grew, warm and welcoming, his free hand stroking over shoulders as they relaxed. Reveled in one another.
"I can't believe you found wassail; I thought it went out—"
"With three piece suits?" She smiled, elbowing his side.
"Hey, no insulting a man's fashion sense."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Swallowing, she set her mug down and curled into him, tugging on the bottom of his vest. "Especially when they're one of the rare ones that actually have a decent—"
"I know." He chuckled as she rolled her eyes, his fingers dipping under the collar of her shirt before he sat up, placing his mug next to hers and snagging something small from the other side of the table. "Here, Merry Christmas."
"Jane, Christmas isn't for another week and a—"
"Must you always argue, woman?"
"It's reflex at this point." Leaning forward, she took the little box, toying with the end of the ribbon curling over the edge. "Are you sure? Your stuff isn't even wrapped ye—"
"Yes, for the love of..." He paused, hands curling into the couch cushion, and breathed deeply. "Christmas, happiness, shouldn't happen just one day a year. I want you to have this now so I'm giving it to you now."
"Ok."
"Ok? Just like that?"
"Mhmm." Beginning to peel back the paper, she tipped her head towards him. "I was just curious to your reasoning."
"You wile-y little..."
His words died as she lifted the gift from the box and let out a little gasp, partially in surprise and partially in delight.
"It's.. how..." She gulped, she didn't want—didn't need—to know how he knew. Running her finger over the chain, she studied the necklace. It wasn't garish or over the top, just a delicate charm suspended from a long gold chain.
A small track baton with her high school jersey number etched on the back.
Brushing her hair aside, he snagged the necklace from her hands and, mentally patting himself on the back for choosing the longest length available since he knew she wouldn't take off her cross, slowly slipped it over her head.
"I can put it on my—"
"I'm perfectly aware that you're very capable, Lisbon." His fingers swept over the nape of her neck and he ducked his head, lips following their path. "I just wanted to do something for you for once, ok?"
"Yes..." She sighed, hand tracing over the charm as he pulled her to him. "Thank you." "You're welcome, but it's really nothing. Especially compared to what's waiting for Christm—"
"No." Turning in his arms, she pressed her hand to his chest, eyes blazing as she tilted her head towards the rest of her festive apartment. "Thank you."
"Anytime." His legs tangled with hers as he sprawled out on the couch, his hands skimming over her back. "To good times and..." Grinning, he kissed her gently before tightening his arms around her. "New traditions."