Title: watch the world outside
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: technically none; inspired by the opening of Russet Potatoes; title from Shinedown's Second Chance.
Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller, CBS et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: "Well - no. But you don't have to be so literal." He turns to Cho, rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "Women."
It's just before eight on a Monday morning when Cho passes Jane's empty, technically-unofficial parking space (it's remarkably close to the front entrance, and he still wants to know who Jane knows in the parking and traffic department) on his way in to work.
He silently joins Jane and Lisbon in the lobby, at the back of the line; they're staring at each other (him: amused, her: thoughtful), and neither of them acknowledge Cho's arrival. Jane holds out both fists, and she narrows her eyes before tapping the back of his left hand.
"Left," she says, confidently, and he turns his hand over, her fingertips slipping over his palm.
"Not quite," and his smile grows, briefly.
"Right," she tries, her index finger dancing over his knuckles - slowly, he opens his empty hand.
"Jane," she protests.
He holds up a finger, his other hand digging around in his suit pocket. "Ta da," he says, holding up a coin, and she rolls her eyes.
"That's cheating."
"It's magic," he corrects.
"No such thing."
"Well - no. But you don't have to be so literal." He turns to Cho, rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "Women."
"Morning," Lisbon says, ignoring him.
"Morning," Cho replies, before turning to Jane as they inch forward in line. "Your car's not out front."
"Really?" Jane asks, cocking his head to the side. "That's strange."
"You should call it in," Cho says, without missing a beat.
"No-one would steal that piece of crap," Lisbon says, her eyebrows raised in mock-innocence, and when Jane clutches his chest, she presses her lips together and tries not to smile.
"That hurts," he murmurs to her, before glancing at Cho. "I'm sure it'll turn up."
Lisbon snorts softly in laughter before she can catch herself; she looks down, her hair falling across her face, and Jane (smiling, very slightly) watches her for a moment.
"You're in a good mood," Cho says to Jane, whose forehead furrows in mock-confusion.
"Am I?" but whatever Cho's opening his mouth to say is cut off by the guard who waves Lisbon through the metal detector. Cho grabs Jane by the elbow, holds him back. "Ow," Jane mutters.
"Did you hypnotize her?"
Jane blinks, and - after a beat - slowly starts to smile. "You can't hypnotize someone to do something against their moral character," he gestures between them, "Something they've never thought about."
"Is that a confession?"
"Did it sound like one?" Jane asks, lightly, still amused.
Cho shrugs, impassive. "You tell me."
"When you guys are done whispering," Lisbon says, dryly, and Cho steps through next.
"Sorry, boss."
Jane grins at the security guard as he passes through, and Cho turns to Lisbon as they head to their office.
"How was your weekend?"
She shrugs. "Fine." (She's not a bad liar, but he's not a bad cop).
He glances at Jane, who looks like he's trying not to laugh as he straightens his sleeve. "Yours?"
"Fine," he echoes, amused.
Lisbon disappears into her office with a raise of her eyebrows and jerk of her chin; when the door closes behind her, Jane turns to Cho.
"Coffee?" he asks. Cho nods, once, and Jane waves his hand. "After you."
Cho takes his coffee black, has it made quickly, and takes a seat while he waits.
There's silence as Jane fixes his tea; he sits down opposite Cho and takes a sip, closes his eyes briefly.
"Your concern is really very sweet," Jane finally says, turning his gaze up to Cho, mouth nearly hidden by his teacup. "Sweet but unnecessary." (His eyes are bright, his expression open, his tiny, lopsided smile probably unintentional).
"OK," Cho finally agrees.
"OK," Jane repeats, with a grin, relaxing slightly.
Cho pushes back from the table, turns before he reaches the hall. "Jane?" Jane looks up expectantly, and Cho adds, his hand brushing the holster on his hip, "Don't ever call me sweet again."
end.