Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 'Bloodshot'

Pretty much fluff. Grace/OC

Grace Van Pelt was sitting on the floor of the woman's bathroom, struggling to stop crying so that she could walk out of the building with some semblance of control. She heard a knock on the door, which was strange, because it was a public bathroom. She lifted her head, rubbing at her eyes.

"Yes?" she called, her voice still thick with tears.

"I know you're in there. Can I come in?"

It wasn't the knowledge of the person behind the door that surprised Grace, but the identity of said person.

"Boss?"

The door opened to reveal a rather tired looking Theresa Lisbon, who promptly shut the door and crouched down next to the young agent. Wordlessly, a pair of small but strong arms wrapped around her, and she felt the tears threaten to come up yet again.

"It's going to be okay." Lisbon comforted, gently stroking Grace's hair and offering her a shoulder to cry on. Grace took it, automatically, although she had very few tears left to cry. When she had finished, Lisbon offered her paper towels, somehow procured from across the room without Lisbon ever leaving Grace's side. It was a mother's magic – one that Grace remembered her own mother using on her several time.

Lisbon's gentle hands dried Grace's face, and the younger woman smiled shakily.

"I'm sorry, Boss. It won't – "

"It's fine, Grace." Lisbon smiled softly, her demeanor still reminiscent of a mother rather than the leader of a team who investigated homicides. Grace supposed that after caring for her brothers, Lisbon had to have a pretty strong maternal instinct. She had never been more grateful for it.

"It's my fault, though. And now I'm acting childish. He just seemed so nice," she began, and Lisbon nodded gently, settling down beside her. "He was friendly – he brought me a flower every day for a week. Just a dandelion, but still…it was sweet. And he doesn't work here, so there weren't any issues, like with…"

"Like with Rigsby," Lisbon finished for her, smiling.

"Yeah. It seemed perfect. God! Why do I have such awful taste in men? I mean, I have never found a sweet guy who likes me and who doesn't have any ulterior motives for dating me. Most of them just want sex," she added, her exhaustion overcoming her usual personal filter she used at work, "and if they don't, then they want someone to take care of the kids their wife left them in the divorce. Some of them are just jerks – they think they have all the power and they can just walk all over you…well, me. And then there are the ones who are married, and date anyway, and tell you only after they sleep with you. And the only one left is off limits because he's your colleague."

"As much as I'd love to help you, I cannot encourage you to date Rigsby."

"I know, I know. It's just…are there any nice, single, straight men left in the world?" she asked, somehow managed to look up at Lisbon, despite the height difference that existed even when sitting.

Her boss, to her credit, had listened silently throughout the whole rant, a look of sympathetic pain etched on her face and in her eyes. But now a smile crept across her face, "Oh, I think I know of one."

Grace was nervous. Shaking nervous. She could barely sit still for longer than a minute.

"Do you think this is okay?" she asked for the millionth time.

"Van Pelt – you look fine. Take a deep breath. Now I wouldn't do this if I didn't think you'd at least partially enjoy yourself."

"What if it doesn't work out? What if I hurt him, or if he likes me and I don't like him? Will you hate me forever?"

"He's a big boy, Van Pelt. He's been rejected before. If I killed every girl who rejected him…" Lisbon trailed off, and Grace smiled. It felt so strange – going on a blind date with a man her boss had picked out. The whole thing felt unreal, especially having Lisbon show up at her apartment and help her choose an outfit that would be "just right" for the evening. Grace still didn't know where she was going, or who with. But Lisbon apparently did, because she had declared the work clothes too formal and the jeans too casual. Finally Grace had been dressed in a strapless, green and white swirled dress that was cute and summery, and perfect for the warm night. And also very much not what she would ever picture Lisbon as picking out.

It had almost felt like high school again, putting on makeup, and not giggling necessarily, but certainly chatting, about anything not work related.

The doorbell jerked Grace out of her thoughts. She jumped up, but Lisbon put her hand on her shoulder.

"That's my cue. Have fun tonight."

Lisbon was gone. Grace heard a murmured conversation, and then the door shutting. She decided that now would be as good a time as any to walk out, and did so, hesitantly. She had no idea who was going to be waiting for her, and she was scared, and just a bit excited. Lisbon was good at reading people – so surely whoever this was had to be a good person.

She turned the corner and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She was tempted to fan herself and squeal like a teenager. His black hair was slightly long, and fell in curls. It reminded her a bit of Jane, although shorter. His eyes were hazel, and he was a cross between Rigsby's strong build and Jane's lanky one.

"Grace?"

She smiled, "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

He smiled, "Of course she wouldn't have told you. I'm James Lisbon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Seven months later…

Grace Van Pelt was sitting on the floor of the women's bathroom, struggling to stop crying so that she could walk out of the building with some semblance of control. She heard a knock on the door, which was strange, because it was a public bathroom. She lifted her head, rubbing at her eyes.

"Yes?" she called.

"Grace? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, voice still thick with tears, although her face was twisted into the happiest grin she had ever felt.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Grace stood up and cuddled into his embrace, enjoying the warm arms around her. She was reminded of the last time she had been in this position. The Lisbon siblings always seemed to know where to find her.

"Nothing," she replied, a giggle running through her words.

"Then why are you crying?" he asked, rubbing away some of the tears with his hand. Unlike Lisbon, he had not had time to develop the magic mother's way of acquiring needed supplies. She grinned, her tears subsiding to give way to a more sensible form of expressing her joy.

"We're going to have a baby."

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