AN: A little Saint Patrick's Day oneshot for the day that's in it. About Lisbon's heritage here - it's obviously not been confirmed but something I've noticed a good few people take for granted, so I'm jumping on the bandwagon: if we have a chance to claim her as our own, I'm sure we'd all jump at the chance! I'll take this opportunity to wish you a very happy day from Ireland - Lá fhéile Phádraig shona daoibh!
Lisbon bundles a handful of sheets together and reaches across her desk to push them out of her reach. She takes the opportunity to eye between the blinds. It's a quarter to eleven and Patrick is nowhere to be seen. It's not unheard of him for to stroll in to work a couple of hours late, unperturbed and wondering what Rigsby is raising his eyebrows at him for. It's not unheard of for him to be late, but it's not an everyday occurrence either, and that is a good job Teresa thinks to herself with a small smile. Just as well there's been no new cases today. Just a bunch of paperwork left over from some finished cases earlier in the week. Teresa sighs as she shuffles the next small stack of papers closer to her. It has to be done.
As she picks up her pen, her office door opens. She can just tell it's him. She refuses to look up. Patrick pauses at the open door, waiting for her response. She doesn't satisfy him with one. He makes a face and turns round to close the door behind him.
"Good Morning, Lisbon," he says cheerfully.
"Morning, Jane." She gives in and eyes him suspiciously. "It's almost ten to eleven."
"Yes, it is."
"Is there any particular reason why you're so very late with no apparent reason?"
Jane shrugs and crosses the room to sit on the couch.
"Oh Lisbon, wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I would have thought that to someone with your kind of heritage it would have been obvious. It's my name day!"
"It's your wha-"
"-Of course, not that it's even a tradition celebrated in Ireland itself, I believe, but the custom still stands."
Lisbon takes a moment to attempt to understand what she is hearing.
"It's Saint Patrick's Day," she says. "And because of that, it's okay for you to be almost two hours late?"
"Thank you, Lisbon; I knew you'd be reason-"
"Damn it Jane, you know that's not.." she trails off. There was no arguing with him when he was like this.
She pretends to look busy with the documents in front of her. She picks up the forgotten pen again.
"Lisbon, I won't pretend not to notice that darling green blouse you're donning for the day that's in it." He raises a single finger as she begins to protest. "Don't even begin to deny it. No shame in it, Teresa. It's as clear as day to anyone there's Irish blood in you, never mind the black hair and green eyes. Hell, even if there wasn't, that'd be no reason not to take pride in today. The blouse suits you; I like it. Like I said, it's darling."
Lisbon stares him out. Jane sees he isn't getting anywhere fast.
"Alright," he says, pulling himself out of the couch; "I'm going." He opens the door with one hand and goes as if to leave. Lisbon breaks off her stare and looks down to her desk, making another attempt at the new stack of papers. Jane leans back in through the door.
"Hey – Lisbon," he half whispers.
"Yes, Jane?" Lisbon looks up, humouring him.
"Happy Saint Patrick's Day."
"Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Patrick." She smiles in spite of herself.
Jane beams back with a wide grin, and the office door swings shut behind him.