A/N: This is for Arcasia, to whom I promised a one shot about a thousand years ago. It turned out not to be a one shot, but for the sake of argument, could you find it in yourselves to just pretend it's a one shot for now so I don't have to feel guilty if I don't update it in a while? RL is kicking my butt these days and I'm still cranking away at Beyond Measure and a couple other little things, so I'm not sure when I will get back to it. But I think it reads ok as a one shot, so I hope you enjoy it as it stands for the moment.

Spoilers: Is that still a thing? I mean, the show has been over a while now... In any case, this is set several years post 7x13, so pretty much everything is fair game.

Rating: Strong T, for sexual situations. There is an 'm-ish' section, which I have marked with 'mmm' at the break.

xxx

Lisbon woke feeling as though she were being suffocated.

Also, as hot as though she were lying in a bed of lit coals.

She assessed her situation. She was trapped under what felt like a thousand blankets, unable to move. This was less because of the blankets themselves and more because of the restraints placed upon her by her current bed companions. Her husband had wrapped himself around her like a boa constrictor, spooned up behind her. Her daughter was sprawled out beside her, taking up more than her fair share of the bed and sweating slightly in her sleep. It was a miracle she hadn't shoved her little brother, next to her, off the edge—Clara was a kicker. Lisbon's arm was stretched out across Clara to rest protectively over Henry's round little belly, assuring herself in her sleep that her two year old wouldn't be cast overboard by his domineering big sister while the family slept.

Lisbon had tried to tell Jane that they really shouldn't let Clara sleep in the bed with them. She had her own bed, after all, and they should be encouraging her to be more independent, now that she was five. But it was no use. At the slightest plea from his little girl, Jane folded like a cheap card table. It wasn't his fault, he insisted to Lisbon. He was helpless to resist females with curly dark hair and green eyes.

Lisbon snorted at this and retorted that he'd resisted her just fine all those years they'd worked together and she was trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do. He was just a sucker when it came to younger women.

Of course, it was no good trying to get Henry to stay in his bed once Clara had left hers. Though he was generally a docile sleeper, he had an uncanny ability to sense when his sister had made a break down the hall to their parents' room. He would wait a few minutes, usually the length of time it took Lisbon to try (and fail) to convince Clara to return to her own bed. Once he could hear the murmured negotiations were complete (Lisbon almost always lost), Henry would get up and appear at his parents' bedside. It had gotten to the point that any time Clara climbed into bed with Jane and her, Lisbon knew it was only a matter of time before Henry turned up as well. Where Clara went, Henry followed.

Henry didn't bother with negotiations. He simply appeared at the side of the bed and hit Lisbon with imploring blue eyes. Knowing it would be grossly unjust if she refused the younger what she had granted the elder, Lisbon inevitably caved immediately and lifted him into the bed herself.

The result being that at least five times a week, she was so cramped in her own bed that she could barely twitch a finger, let alone sleep soundly through the night.

Something had to give.

Lisbon tried to shift slightly to free herself, but failed. She couldn't move her legs. She looked down at the end of the bed. The dog was lying on her feet. She turned her head and craned her neck to look at Jane, next to her. The cat was practically sleeping on top of his head, curled up on his pillow directly above the mass of his disheveled blond hair.

Lisbon huffed in exasperation. How the hell could he sleep like that?

She knew the answer to this, of course. For him, having the kids in bed with them wasn't an unwelcome intrusion, but a tangible reassurance that they were safe and well. Jane, the man who had slept on his couch, in isolated hotel rooms, and on a narrow cot in the attic for ten years, never slept more peacefully than when he had his entire family safely within arm's reach.

That was all very moving and poetic and all, but she, Lisbon, had more mundane considerations to worry about when it came to a good night's sleep. Such as temperatures lower than sweltering and room to turn over in her own bed.

She tried to at least wriggle free of some of the blankets, but her husband snuffled in her ear and tightened his grip on her. There was only one thing for it.

She drew her arm back and elbowed Jane in the ribs.

He didn't wake. Instead, he sighed in his sleep and turned onto his back, pulling her closer to him so she was half on top of him. Not exactly what she'd had in mind. She lay there for a moment with her head propped on his chest, studying his handsome face in the moonlight. His jaw was slack with sleep, the lines around his eyes and mouth carved in more deeply than they had been a few years ago. God, he was beautiful. He sighed in his sleep again and pulled her even more tightly to him, his hand burying itself in her hair. He turned his head in his sleep so his mouth rested against her forehead.

The sensation was not unpleasant, but seriously, how could he even breathe like that?

Okay. She could deal with this. She would pretend they were newlyweds again, when Jane had been seemingly unable to go five minutes without touching her, asleep or awake. He'd always been particularly clingy in sleep, and that hadn't faded with time. She would just imagine the reason she was boiling hot was because they'd just finished an especially enthusiastic round of lovemaking and—

Clara kicked out and caught her in the back of the leg.

Lisbon huffed in exasperation. That was it. She had to get out of this bed. "Jane," she hissed.

"Mm," he murmured, sliding his hand down her back and pulling her still closer.

She shoved him away. "Jane, wake up."

He made a noise of protest and attempted to bury his face in her neck. "But this is my happy place."

She elbowed him harder this time. He opened his eyes. "Wha…? What 's it?" he slurred, blinking.

"Let me up," she ordered.

"Why?"

"Because I'm so hot I might die," she said irritably.

His eyes darkened. "I think I might be able to help you out with that."

"Yes, you can," she agreed. "Move over."

Instead of moving over, he leaned over and stole a kiss.

"I'm serious, Jane," she said, giving up on his assistance and attempting to climb over him.

He caught her hips and stayed her progress. "If you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was say so," he murmured, leaning up to catch her mouth with his.

"Jane!" she protested against his mouth. "The kids are right there."

"We'll be quiet," he insisted. "They'll never know."

She kissed him back. "Not happening."

He tightened his grip on her hips. "I have ways of persuading you, you know."

"Not on this," she said firmly. "Let me go."

"Make me," he challenged her, flopping back onto the pillow and attempting to pull her with him.

His movement woke the cat, who batted his hair with one paw in protest.

Jane turned his head. "What the—"

The cat hissed and swiped a paw in his direction, catching Jane on the temple with one outstretched claw. "Ow!" Jane flinched and released Lisbon from his grip. The dog woke and let out a low whine. Clara whimpered in her sleep. Jane turned to her, concerned, and the dog got up and flung himself on Jane's feet this time.

Lisbon made her escape.

Xxx

Lisbon stood over the kitchen sink and pressed a cool glass of water to her neck. Ah. That was better. She moved it to her chest and closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of the cool glass against her skin.

Once her body temperature had been reduced to below boiling point, she took her glass and wandered over to the front window. Jane had insisted on expanding it into a huge picture window during the remodel. Though she'd argued at the time it was an unnecessary expense, she had to admit the final product afforded a beautiful view out over their little pond. She took a sip of her water and gazed out over the pond, the moonlight glimmering on the surface, cutting through the dark silhouettes of the trees beyond.

A pair of warm arms encircled her from behind, drawing her close. "Hey," Jane murmured, squeezing her tightly. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck.

She placed her free hand on his forearm and leaned back into him, enjoying the solid familiarity of his chest pressed against her back. "Hey, yourself."

"Couldn't sleep?" he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She shook her head. "I was cooking like a lobster in there."

"Mm," he murmured, kissing the side of her neck.

She rubbed her thumb over his bare forearm. "Clara okay?"

"Yeah. She didn't wake up, just kicked me a couple more times."

Lisbon sighed. "I'm worried about her. This whole wanting to sleep with us thing—it's not like her."

"It's just a phase, Teresa. It's perfectly normal for kids to go through periods like this where they want extra reassurance."

"Mm," Lisbon said, not convinced.

He kissed her shoulder. "I moved Henry to the middle, though. I was afraid she might push him off the edge."

"Oh, good," Lisbon said, relieved. "I was worried about that, too."

"There's one good thing about having extra bodies in the bed," he remarked.

She tilted her head to the side. "What's that?"

He fingered the thin strap of the tank top she was wearing. "It encourages you to wear less clothing to bed."

She sighed. "Fat lot of good that is doing us." Time to themselves was in short supply these days.

"Anytime I get to hold you and touch your bare skin is good for me," he insisted, drawing his fingers past the hem of her cotton shorts and sliding his hand over the skin of her bare thigh.

"Smooth talker," she said affectionately.

He bent his head and kissed her neck again. "I meant it."

She turned and kissed him on the nose. "I know." She looked into his eyes with warmth, then frowned. She reached up to touch his temple. "You're bleeding."

He brought his own fingers to his face. "Must be where the cat got me."

"C'mon. I'll fix you up." She took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen. She found a butterfly bandage in one of the drawers, along with a tube of Neosporin. She perched on the kitchen counter and dabbed his temple with the ointment, then applied the bandage.

Jane, standing between her legs, leaned into her, his eyes closed. "Still taking care of me, I see," he murmured.

"In sickness and in health," she agreed, tossing the wrapper for the bandage in the garbage.

He pulled her closer to the edge of the counter and gave her a sloppy kiss. "Want to have sex on the couch?" he said hopefully.

Her blood heated, this time from the inside out. She glanced towards the bedroom, where her children were sleeping, peacefully unaware of the debauchery their parents were contemplating. "Do you think we can manage it?"

"It's worth a shot," he said, running his hands up and down her bare legs.

She shivered and leaned forward for a kiss. "I don't know. I don't have those biofeedback tricks you do. If we have to stop in the middle, it will just be torturously frustrating for me."

"Come on," he coaxed. "When was the last time we had sex on the couch?"

"Before Clara was born, probably," she sighed. Though it had gotten quite a workout when the FBI had first given it to him as a going away present. It was amazing the thing was still standing, really.

"Exactly," Jane said. "We're in danger of becoming boring married people who only have sex in a bed."

She snorted. "Are you kidding? I would love to be a married person who has sex in a bed. Lately, we haven't even been able to manage that."

He arranged her legs around his waist and thrust into her lightly. "That is precisely why we need to seize the moment."

She groaned and tightened her legs around him, torn between lust and pragmatic acceptance of reality. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"I'll take fooling around for a few minutes, even if we have to stop," he said desperately. He pressed closer and kissed her again, slow and wet. The argument was persuasive.

"Oh, all right," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. "But if Clara pushes Henry out of the bed, you have to be the one to explain it to the hospital."

mmm

He bit her bottom lip. "The dog will protect him. Come on." He pulled her down from the counter and dragged her over to the couch. He tugged her down on top of him. Then he wove his fingers through her hair, drawing her face down to his for another kiss.

She had to laugh a little at his eagerness. She pushed her hair back from her face with one hand and shifted so she was straddling him properly. Then he thrust into her again and she stopped laughing. She gripped the couch behind his head and threw her head back. "God, Patrick."

He managed to free one breast from the confines of the tank top with his mouth while simultaneously sliding his hands down to her ass to draw her hips closer to his. She gasped. Jane always had been good at multi-tasking. He laved her nipple with his tongue, drawing wet circles on her breast.

"Jesus," she exhaled. He knew just how to touch her to take her from zero to sixty in about five seconds. Of course, it had been a while, so there was some pent up frustration there—no, she didn't want to think about how long it had been. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, drawing her firmly back to the present. Time was a precious commodity, and she didn't want to waste a second of it. She reached for the tie to his pajama bottoms, feverishly working at the knot while desperately wondering what the fastest way to get him inside her was. Could they afford to take the time to remove clothing entirely, or would it be better to just shove her underwear aside and—

"Daddy!"

Their daughter's cry, shrill and distressed, brought reality crashing back over them.

Lisbon closed her eyes and reminded herself that she loved both of her children more than life and lust itself.

Jane released her breast from his mouth with a wet 'plop.' "No, no, no," he groaned. He buried his head between her breasts as though he thought he could hide there.

"Daddy?" The call was desperate now.

He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. "Coming, sweetheart!" he called down the hall.

"Apparently not," Lisbon muttered, climbing off him.

He patted her ass in commiseration, then levered himself off the couch to attend to their eldest child.

mmm

Lisbon pulled up her tank top and sat back on the couch in frustration. Typical. Just typical.

She stayed on the couch for a few more minutes to let her body cool down again. She tried to turn her brain to tedious household matters to distract herself, but her mind kept returning to the feeling of Jane's hands roaming over her body. Not to mention his mouth. She sighed. Great. Now she was even worse off than when she'd started.

She flopped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Maybe she should just sleep out here. Lord knew Jane had slept on this thing enough over the years. It was comfortable enough. She considered. The pros in favor of this plan were not insignificant. It would be cool. No one would kick her or sit on her feet.

She was going to do it. She would just tell Jane where she was going, and then she would come back out here with a spare pillow and a sheet. She would get a good night's sleep for the first time in two weeks.

She got up and retrieved her water glass, then padded back to the bedroom.

Jane was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, a child on either side of him. Apparently Jane's mission to soothe Clara had been successful—all three of them were out cold. The cat had apparently forgiven Jane for disrupting his rest earlier and was curled up on the pillow above his head again. Only the dog raised his head and looked over at her when she came in.

She went to the foot of the bed and stroked Samson's head a few times, rubbing behind his ears affectionately. Samson closed his eyes in canine ecstasy and laid his head down again, content.

She looked at Jane, a little exasperated that he'd fallen asleep so quickly after getting her all worked up and then leaving her hanging. Still, she supposed she couldn't really blame him. He had to be exhausted after looking after their two little mini-Janes all day while she was at work. Lord knew how much trouble those two could get into when they put their minds to it. She watched him snore. He was still ridiculously attractive, even snoring. He'd gotten lazy about shaving lately, and had let his beard grow out a little. She didn't mind. She'd always secretly liked Jane with a little stubble, though it did get a bit scratchy when he kissed her sometimes.

She thought about the first time she'd seen him with a full beard, sun-kissed and beaming at her after those two long, lonely years without him. Her heart ached a little at the memory of how much she'd missed him. Her mind strayed to the time he'd spent in Vegas during his ill-advised scheme to catch Red John. Come to think of it, he'd been a little stubbly after those six months, too, his hair long and a little wild. That time had actually been worse, in some ways. She remembered how sick with worry she'd been, wondering if she'd ever see him again. How powerless she'd felt to help him. She gazed at him, thinking of all the intervening years, when she'd thought she'd never have this. That she might live her life with nothing but the cold comfort of devotion to duty, never to have a family of her own. She'd never thought Jane would—would be free in that way. She'd never thought she'd know him as her husband, as the father to her children.

He was such a good husband to her. An amazing father. She'd always known he'd been a great dad, but seeing it before her own eyes, with their own children—well, she fell in love with him a little more each day, seeing how loving and patient he was with Clara and Henry.

Her eyes wandered over the sleeping forms of her two children. Clara frowned a little in her sleep, her long curls a tangled cloud on the pillow. Jane always shook his head and said it was spooky how their daughter had turned out to be a carbon copy of her. It was true—Clara definitely favored her when it came to looks, but Lisbon always thought she saw a little of him around the eyes and mouth. Clara had definitely gotten her penchant for manipulation from him, though. Lisbon thought that was quite enough of a legacy.

Henry was more of a mix of the two of them. He'd gotten Jane's coloring, though his sandy hair was perhaps a few shades darker than his father's. His mouth resembled Jane's, but his smile was a little crooked like hers, and he had her nose. She went around to the side of the bed to pull the sheet up around him a little and dropped a kiss on his forehead. Her sweet boy.

Her heart swelled as she gazed down at all three of them, lying there together. She was so extraordinarily lucky.

Jane turned his head and sighed her name in his sleep. "T'resa…" His hand groped the empty sheet, searching for her.

She took it and pressed a kiss to his palm to reassure him she was there. Then she gently picked up Henry and shifted him closer to his father.

She lifted the edge of the sheet and crawled back into bed with her family.