Author's Note: CONTINUATION – Vega and Wylie on their first date.

I really NEVER intended for Dancing in the Dark to be more than a oneshot. But then I realized that, having done that story from Vega's POV, I really wanted to explore Wylie's thoughts. So to do that, I'm sending them on their first real date. I hope you have as much fun as they do.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Mentalist. If I did there would be a spinoff for Wega. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.

I Like Dreamin'

"I like dreamin' cause dreamin' can make you mine." - - Kenny Nolan

Jason Wylie carefully backed out of the parking space and turned the car towards the street. Glancing back, he considered pinching himself to be certain the night was real, but his fair skin showed bruises easily and he didn't want to have to explain anything like that on Monday morning.

They hadn't really discussed it, but it was clear to him that Michelle wanted to keep their budding relationship quiet, at least for now. He was fine with that. He thought that it might actually help him keep his mind focused on the work. If he were free to talk about Michelle Vega, that might be all he did. He was fairly certain that wouldn't go over well with his boss. Abbott, he'd come to realize, was actually a bit of a romantic at heart, but he didn't think the man would overlook a slacker on the job for the sake of love or anything else.

Jane, on the other hand - Jane would probably set up a cheering section for them. But Jane didn't run the team, even if sometimes it seemed like he did.

Wylie very nearly missed his turn-off and was glad there was so little traffic, even on the interstate, at this hour of the morning. He would definitely have to sleep in tomorrow. Make that today. He needed to remember to set his alarm for about noon. He and Michelle had already arranged their first date and he had no intention of being late picking her up. He felt himself blush slightly when he realized the size of the grin he must be sporting at that thought.

Michelle played soccer with a municipal league and she invited him to come watch her play. Afterwards they planned to hit one of the tourist areas and do a little sightseeing in their adopted hometown. They would practically be spending the whole day together on their first date. Vega was concerned that he might be bored watching the soccer game and Wylie decided not to tell her that the thought of watching a lot of women running around a field in shorts was far from boring. Hey - he might have the woman of his dreams, but he was still one-hundred percent male, right?

He was waiting at a stoplight when he noticed that the drugstore in the next block was still open. It must be a 24-hour place, he realized. When the light turned, he decided to pull in and pick up some sun block. He'd be out in the sun for the better part of the day, and with his fair skin, he had to be very careful. He probably had enough at home, but just in case, he didn't want to have to stop on the way to pick up his date. As he wandered through the aisles, he passed the always intimidatingly varied display of condoms. He paused, wondering if it would be presumptuous to pick up a box. His love-life wasn't exactly jam-packed, and the half-used box he had in his nightstand was probably expired by now. He decided that it was never presumptious to be prepared. In fact, the courteous thing would be to ensure that he had a fresh supply if and when the moment arrived. Making sure they were both safe only showed how much he cared, right? Right! He grabbed a box and made his way to the cashier.

Saturday

Wylie spent about an hour after he woke up just wondering if it had all been a dream. Heaven knew he'd had vivid dreams about Michelle Vega before, but none of his dreams had ever included dancing. Not that it wasn't nice. It was possibly one of the nicest things he'd ever done with a woman other than - well, the really nice thing that a guy could do with a woman. He really, seriously didn't think he could dance, so dancing simply wasn't something that typically factored into his dreams, day- or otherwise.

He might have to augment his daydream repertoire.

He showered, using the new shower gel he'd also picked up at the drugstore on the way home. Then he stood in front of his closet, clad only in his boxer briefs, pondering what he should wear. A suit was probably completely inappropriate for watching a soccer game, but then what if they went for a nice dinner or to one of the many clubs later on? How was he supposed to offer her his jacket if it got chilly in the evening and he was casually dressed? Finally, he opted for khaki slacks and a shirt with a light sweater. He would take a sports jacket and leave it in the car during the game.

Jason was certain he was about to die of a heart attack as he pulled into the same parking space near Michelle's apartment that he'd vacated just hours earlier. She was running up the walk, a large duffle bag hanging off one shoulder and bouncing against her thigh. A lightly tanned thigh that, even on the very petite agent, seemed impossibly long and lean and didn't end until it met the thin white hem of her tiny, dark blue shorts. She was wearing a matching dark blue tank top and jersey jacket. Wylie could see that there was a number and probably a team name emblazoned across the front of her top, but he couldn't see either of them completely. Nonetheless, her knew her team's name was the Wildcats and her number was twenty-two. He would definitely be focusing on number twenty-two as she ran up and down the field.

"Hi!" she greeted him as she slid into the passenger seat and tossed her duffle bag into the back. "Did you get a good morning's sleep?" she asked, a note of humor in her voice.

They'd talked until after four in the morning. They'd done a few other things besides talking as well, but it was mostly talking. It was after five when Jason finally got into his bed, but he'd slept blissfully, and told her so.

"Blissfully?" she laughed. "So does that mean you're really a night owl? Are you out club-hopping until dawn every weekend?"

"No, no!" he responded, "I hardly ever stay out late!" He worried she might think he was boring. "I mean, I go out sometimes, when we don't have a case. But I think it's important to stick to a good sleep schedule most of the time. It helps me to be sharp on the job."

She smiled at him and the next thing he knew, she was leaning across the console and kissing him lightly.

"I do, too," she said, settling back into her seat and pulling the seat-belt across her chest, clicking the latch in place. "Most nights I'm in bed by eleven so I can get a solid eight hours. Otherwise I'm all muzzy headed in the morning, and I can't concentrate." She grew a bit somber. "Lack of concentration can get an agent hurt - or worse."

"Yeah," he agreed, "So how did you sleep - this morning?" he quipped as he began to maneuver the car out of the parking spot and back into the street.

"I slept blissfully, too!" she replied, flashing a huge grin.

On the drive to the soccer field, they talked about Dennis Abbott's plan to join his wife in Washington, and Cho's promotion. They speculated on just how long Jane and Lisbon had been officially an item, although Wylie conceded he had the advantage over Vega in that area, since he'd been with the team almost as long as Jane and Lisbon had. They also discovered they both had a sort of perverse love of television crime shows and loathed most reality shows. Neither of them got the chance to see movies in a theater very often, but still preferred that over DVDs or streaming. Wylie was a big fan of electronic books, but Vega still preferred to curl up with a paperback.

When they arrived, there were only three other cars in the parking lot. On the short walk to the field, Wylie offered to carry Vega's bag. She looked at him and smirked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure you can carry it just fine," he said, not sure if he'd offended her.

"It's ok," she reassured him, "It's just that I'm going to be sitting with the team and you're going to be up in the bleachers. So if you carried it the few feet before we split up, we'd just have to transfer it."

"Right," he said, feeling relieved.

"Just so you know," she continued, "I don't mind the occasional gentlemanly gesture, especially if we ever go somewhere that we're all dressed up for."

"Got it," he smiled at her, "Thanks for letting me know. And trust me – I've seen you at the gym – I'm pretty sure you can bench-press more than I can!"

"Well, the FBI is still a bit of a boys club in a lot of ways. As a woman you really do have to work twice as hard. And if you're small, like me, you have to work three times as hard."

"Try being a computer nerd at the FBI," he quipped. "I passed the same training course as everyone else, and I pass all my qualifications, but agents take one look at me sitting at my computer and they just assume that I can't handle a field assignment."

They reached the edge of the bleachers and turning to face each other.

"I'm gonna get warmed up before the game starts," Vega said. "There's a refreshment stand over there," she pointed to a small building just beyond the other end of the bleachers, "and there are restrooms on the back side. The game will be starting in about 15 minutes and lasts about an hour. There's a rec center on the other side of the parking lot. They've got a game room and a couple of TV lounges, if you get bored."

Wylie wondered why Michelle seemed so convinced he wouldn't enjoy the game. "I'm not going to get bored," he insisted. "I plan to be screaming my head off every time you're kicking the ball down the field."

"All right, well, I'll do my best to make it exciting."

She ran off to the benches on the sidelines, where she dropped her bag on the ground and then bent to start rummaging through the contents, pulling out a water bottle, a towel and a headband. Staring at her tiny but nicely sculpted backside, Wylie wasn't sure he could take too much more excitement. He decided to use the time before the game started to get himself a bottle of water. He really did plan to cheer enthusiastically – if only to prove to Vega that he was having a good time so she might invite him to her next game. Even if the game itself was as exciting as watching paint dry, it was well worth it for the chance to see her outside of her usual conservative FBI-approved pantsuits. He'd always thought those were rather entertaining to look at until he'd seen her running towards his car in those tiny little shorts. He might need to remind himself to breathe.

As it turned out, Wylie really did enjoy the game. He wasn't too familiar with soccer, but the basics were a lot like ice hockey, and he'd played that some as a kid. In one you ran and kicked a ball, in the other you skated and slapped a puck with a stick. The idea was to get past your opponent and get the ball – or puck - into a goal at the end of the field. He screamed at the top of his voice when Vega did just that – twice. He was pleased when the Wildcats won, since he was sure she would be in a good mood and ready to celebrate. And he planned to help her do that.

He was standing just outside the small locker room area that was built into one side of the rec center. Vega told him she usually just drove home in her playing gear and showered once she got there, but she didn't want to waste all that time driving back and forth, so she'd brought a change of clothes.

"I guess after last night I shouldn't expect you to go dancing today," she said as she came out, dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a deep teal sweater.

"We can go dancing, if that's what you want," he said. "Austin has dance halls and clubs that have just about any kind of music you could want. But don't expect me to be any better than I was last night."

"You did fine last night," Vega told him, "but we'll save the dancing for another time. If you're really serious about doing anything I want, there's an exhibition on Women Airforce Service Pilots at the Texas State History Museum that I've been wanting to see." She hefted her bag over her shoulder and began walking towards the parking area. "But first we have got to get something to eat. I hardly eat anything before a game and now I'm starving!"

They had an early dinner at a popular local TexMex restaurant, then spent a couple of hours touring the museum exhibition. Wylie was fascinated by the women who served as non-combat pilots during World War II, and who were only recently gaining the recognition the deserved for their service. He wondered if Michelle was truly reconciled to the loss of her military aspirations.

After the museum they went to a small club where they listened to a bluegrass band for about an hour. They chatted easily and each took the opportunity to learn more about the other. Michelle wanted to know how Wylie got so good at computers and what got him interested in "the whole hacking thing". She teased him that if he wasn't an FBI agent, she'd have to arrest him for some of the tricks she'd seen him use to get information. Jason found out more about Vega's life growing up as an Army brat and travelling from one military base to another, moving just about every other year. She'd been an avid gymnast as a young girl, and might have competed seriously if they had been able to stay in one place so that she could train consistently. She still went to a gym once a week where she could practice tumbling runs and floor exercises. She thought it helped to keep her limber. That was yet another piece of information that Wylie needed to store away for future use in some of the fantasies he had.

They agreed to end the evening early, since they were both still recuperating from the previous late night. But as he pulled into Michelle's parking lot again, Wylie was regretting that decision. This was one of the best days of his life and he didn't want it to end.

"Wait!" Vega said and held his hand to prevent him from unbuckling his seat-belt.

"But…" he stammered, "I was going to walk you to your door."

"I know," Michelle answered, "and normally I'd want you to. But if you walk me to my door, we'll kiss goodnight; and if we kiss goodnight at my door, I'll invite you in; and if I invite you in, we'll be staying up until four in the morning again; and I really shouldn't do that two nights in a row. I want to go to the gym tomorrow afternoon and I promised a neighbor that I'd babysit for her tomorrow night. Her kid is two and she's a walking, toddling workout in Pull-Ups."

Jason laughed. "Okay," he agreed, "but I'd still like to kiss you, if that's all right?"

"Just try to get out of it," Vega teased, grabbing a handful of his sweater and pulling him toward her. She stopped just shy of contact, loosening her grip and smoothing the crumpled knit with her hand.

The hand that was ostensibly working the wrinkles out of his sweater was, in fact, lightly stroking his chest. Even through the multiple layers, her fingertips discovered his nipple and lightly teased it. He moved forward, restricted by the seat-belt that still crossed over his lap. As his lips met hers, he quickly realized just how snug the belt was in this position. He placed one hand behind her head, feeling the need to make sure she didn't pull away before he could maneuver himself into a better position. With the other hand, he worked the seat-belt latch. The positioning was awkward, and he couldn't seem to get the necessary angle to pop the lock. Finally, it snapped open and he was able to turn more fully toward her. He brought his arm up and wrapped it around her waist. Michelle's arms were wrapped around him, her fingers combing through his hair. He felt like every sense in his body was heightened as they spent several moments like that, simply exploring each other's mouths and lips and tongues.

Suddenly, Vega brought one hand up between them and gently pushed him back. "I really need to go inside," she breathed, "and you really need to…go." She moved forward again and lightly kissed him, then quickly turned, opened the door and hopped out, reaching back in to grab her bag from the back seat. She stood for a moment with the door open.

"Thanks, Jason. I really enjoyed spending the day with you. I think this is the first time since I moved here that I've really had fun so… thank you."

Wylie just nodded, not sure how he should respond. Should he ask her for another date? No – too soon for that. He was pretty sure he should wait at least a couple of days and then call her. Of course in a couple of days it would be Monday and he'd see her at work. Maybe if they had lunch together he could casually ask her if she had plans for Friday night. He really didn't want to wait until Friday to be with her again. He wondered how she would feel about maybe going out for dinner one evening after work. He thought about her going to the gym to practice her tumbling tomorrow and really wished she'd invite him to go watch her do that. He wondered if she wore tights…

"Well, goodnight," she said, then closed the door and turned to walk inside.

"IDIOT!" Wylie thought, tempted to beat his head against the steering wheel. He hadn't said a thing. Not even a polite "Goodnight." He just sat there like…like an idiot.

He looked up and saw that she was nearly to the building entrance. The lamp was still flickering. As she got closer, it had an almost strobe-like effect, suddenly bathing her in a flood of light, then fading to shadow. He opened the car door and stepped out before he could over think the thought he just had.

"MICHELLE!" he yelled.

She stopped and turned, then waited.

Then he was sprinting, running for all he was worth, proving that he really was trained just like every other FBI agent. As he got near to her, he slowed down, then stopped. They were standing about four feet apart. It took all the willpower he had not to close the distance and take her in his arms again. But he wanted to respect her wishes, and besides, that wasn't what this was about.

"Jason?" she asked, obviously puzzled. "Did I forget something?"

"No," he said, "I did. I almost forgot to tell you that I had a really great day, too. And… and… goodnight. Get a good night's sleep, ok?"

She smiled. He had a sudden thought that her smile would light up his world until he was old and grey.

"I will," she said. "It might even be… blissful."

Author's Note: As we're all waiting for the final episodes of this amazing show, I really, really want Wega to have the story they deserve. Regardless of what happens, it seems unlikely that there's enough time left in the season for that to happen. To appease my own needs, I may write a few more chapters if and when something inspires me.

02/02/2015