I HAVE COME BACK TO LIFE! Haha, just kidding, more like from studying endlessly for high school courses.
Anyways: Here we go, first piece in like what, forever?
Ten points to Gryffindor for whomever guesses the song this title is based of of. No Google! Stick it into the review box and you will get... dah danha dah... nothing. But the joy of knowing great music is an added bonus!
Details: Lisbon begins to date a new man she really isn't in love with. What really are her motives behind this loveless relationship.
Rating: T for mentions of sex, and other related stuff.
Pairings: Eventual Jane/Lisbon.
Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine...
{}THE MENTALIST{}
She could feel the sweat trickle down the back of her neck, as the humidity of the bedroom closed around her neck like a pair of hands. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe any longer, and tossed away the messy sheets, allowing her naked body to become exposed to rest of the room. She quickly grabbed a t-shirt that hung over the barely used, beige coloured chair, and padded over to the windowsill. Swiftly undoing the latch, she pushed the frame up as far as it could go, and sighed as the cool night air tickled her face and danced through her hair. The toilet flushed in the bathroom adjacent to her own bedroom, and she dashed back into bed. Slipping the t-shirt back over her head, she rearranged the blanket around her, turning her back towards her visitor. She shut her eyes as a light peeped in from the hallway. She attempted to keep her breathing even, and slow her quickened heart; keeping up her façade.
She could almost see his elated grin, as he plopped himself down next to her. She prayed that he wouldn't wake her, as two wet arms coiled their way across her bare waist. She faked a sigh of contentment, and leaned into his well muscled chest. She stared at the wall facing her, as the moments slunk past.
"Did I wake you?" He whispered, his lips kissing her neck. She should've known she couldn't fool him. It was his job after all, to sniff out liars.
She rolled around to face him, meeting the pair of electric blue eyes that sunk deep into their lids. A smile graced his pink lips. She smiled back.
"No, I couldn't sleep. Too hot." She said, closing her eyes once more.
"Ah, I'm sorry." He said back, his voice as delicate as a cloud. "Should I let you sleep?"
She saw an opportunity, and took it. "Well, I mean, I do have a big day tomorrow. Seeing dead guys and all."
He chuckled, and kissed her forehead. "I take your sarcasm as a yes."
She looked at him seriously. "It's not that…" She began, but was cut off by a finger to her lips.
"It's quite alright. I understand. My big, bad, crime-fighting Teresa needs her rest." He laughed again, quietly musical like windchimes.
She joined in this time, settling herself against him, preparing for yet another sleepless night.
"Goodnight, Teresa." He whispered, stroking her chocolate brown locks sweetly.
"Good night, Percy." She said, as enthusiastically as she could muster.
{}THE MENTALIST{}
In the morning, she awoke to find her bed empty, and her alarm blaring a song about a misshapen relationship. She didn't even bother noticing the cruel irony, as she cursed herself for sleeping through the alarm. She made a mad dash for the bathroom, deciding against it as the clock on the wall read half past eight. She ran a brush through her tangly mass of bed head, and dabbed on some of her favourite cinnimon perfume for good measure, and to get rid of the scent of love-making. She hurried back into her room, throwing the comforter back onto the bed as she made her way to her teeny closet. A note, Scotch-taped to the door was waiting for her.
It read, "Sleeping Beauty finally awakes! When I left, you were still fast asleep, and I didn't have the heart to wake you. You looked so peaceful, and I know you haven't been sleeping well lately, and it's been (partially) my fault. Drinks later? –P "
She breathed in and out a couple of time, attempting to clear her head. She damned him for being so charming and irresistible, and compelling her to say yes. She made a quick mental note to call him later in reply.
Focusing on the task at hand, the opened the door, revealing stacks of shirts and pants, neatly stacked in rows. She grabbed the first blouse and slacks she saw, dressing quickly. She fumbled for her keys, gun, and badge, conveniently located on her bedside table, as she finished five out of the ten buttons on her sky blue shirt. She ignored the rest, sprinting out the door, and ignoring the puzzled looks of her neighbors as she fired up the engine on her black SUV.
Her cell-phone buzzed against the wheel as she directed the vehicle towards her place of business.
"Lisbon." She answered promptly, clearing her throat.
"Hey boss." Her red-haired junior agent replied. "I know that you probably had something else going on, but I just wanted to let you know that the local PD found a body near Lake Christopher, and called us to investigate it. We're down there now."
"Alright, I'll meet you there in ten. Thanks VanPelt." She said, making a right turn on the road.
"Your welcome, boss. See you soon." Came the nice response, as the phone clicked off.
Lisbon reached for the bottle of Advil in the drink holder to sooth her throbbing head. She shook a few into her hand, and popped them into her mouth, washing them down with day-old water as she waited for the light to turn green. She sighed, it was going to be a long day.
{}THE MENTALIST{}
She slammed the car door, and hit the lock button on the keypad as she entered the crime scene. Snapping on a pair of fresh latex gloves , she pulled the yellow tape over her head, earning her several 'Good Mornings' from eager cops. She smiled back politely, wondering why they seemed to be ogling more than usual, and headed for the target of the tarp covered body.
She exchanged brief hellos with her colleagues, and crouched down, deftly pulling the blue piece of fabric back, examining the form beneath it. A lovely smashed in, water logged, bloodied and bruised face met her eyes. The victim appeared to be a Caucasian male, mid to late thirties, with light blue eyes staring blankly into the sky above. Out of reverence, she leaned over and shut them, not wanting to look into their poor corneas any longer.
"Ah, sir. Yes you over there." Boomed an overly confident voice from the left. A man in a three piece suit appeared, gesturing for a nearby agent to get a pad of paper out. "Can you record this date? Uh, I think it's time to alert the media, because this is the first time St. Teresa has been late to work." He called, making a mock blowhorn with his hands. He laughed jubilantly. "How about a round of applause?" He said gleefully clapping his hands together repetitively. A few smart-ass cops joined in, but quickly stopped, noticing her icy stare.
She silenced him with a death glare. "Shut-up." Came her smart reply.
"Meh. So what were you doing this mornign?" He asked, planting his hands on his knees as he loomed over her. She couldn't help but be drawn to the proximity of their bodies; she could almost reach out and touch his cheek. She ignored the thoughts, and focused on her anger.
"That is none of your business." She retorted, standing up.
"Eh, well that's debatable. But let's not get into that." He said, straightening back up. "I am going to guess that you were having sex. Or did last night. Your hair is a wreck, you don't smell like cinnamon, but some men's cheap cologne. Oh, and I can see your bra. Midnight blue, is that a matching set?" He replied, a hint of a smirk covering his lips, as his fingers brushed open her shirt, revealing the undergarments. "Or are you just trying to impress me?" He winked.
Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. A couple of bystanders chuckled, and others bit back smiles.
"You son of a bitch." She mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on her shirt. She couldn't manage to do the final three, and huffed in frustration.
"Here, allow me. Clearly my fantastic detective skills have clouded your brain, and caused your inability to complete ordinary functions." Long and nimble finger gently brushed against her chest as he fastened the remaining few. He cupped her chin, and forced her to look at him. She blushed furiously again, avoiding his gaze. She tried to push him away, failing miserably.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear Lisbon. It is a perfectly natural thing to do." He said bluntly. However, he leaned in and whispered, "But you should probably let him know that you don't actually like him."
Her jaw dropped, and she watched as he sauntered away, her anger mounting. Her mind was spinning, but the clearest thought in her head, was how he couldn't be more right.
{}THE MENTALIST{}
Alright, Good, Great? Just let me know if I should continue...