A/N: This became a bit mushier than intended. So prepare for some fluffiness ahead. The second paragraph is a flashback, just in case you get confused. Set somewhere in the future, post RJ.
Disclaimer: Everything I own is in my home, and I haven't seen the rights to The Mentalist lying around anywhere.
"And remember no peaking." His voice bounced in pitch.
"Jane I don't have time for games."
"But this is no game. It's important." He assured her.
"What is it that's so important I can't look at it?"
"Just promise me you're not gonna cheat when we get there."
She let out an exasperated breath, how could she say no to him when he was this excited? "I promise." She said as she remembered the last time he'd done something like this.
xXx
About 6 months earlier...
She recalled that day very clearly. Even in the early hours of the day it had been warm, the morning dew had still been lying on the plants, making them look fresh out of a plant nursery. He had practically kidnapped her from her apartment, insisting they'd take a trip. About halfway through he'd made her close her eyes. It had taken a bit of convincing but she'd eventually complied. Surprises were not really her thing, and Patrick Jane surprises could go either way in terms of being good or bad.
There were a few rattling noises, and then the seat gave way a little as the car stopped. Not being able to see was not the most comforting thing when you were caught in this deathtrap of a car.
"Okay. Now wait right there." At least his voice was reassuring to her.
He got out, went around the car and opened her door. Then she felt him take her hands and lead her out of the car also. Assuring she had a solid stand on the ground beneath her, he held one hand protectively over her head making sure she didn't hit it on the top of the car in the process of getting out, before he guided her forward.
"Where are we?" She inquired.
"This isn't 20 questions, my dear." Was his only answer.
"No it definitely is not." She should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.
"Patience woman. Now concentrate on walking, or you'll trip."
"Well if I trip you better catch me." The warning was clear in her tone.
A smile played on his lips and in his voice. "I'll always catch you. You can trust me."
She smiled too, and even though he couldn't see her light green eyes, he knew the smile had reached them too.
The creaking sound under her shoes indicated that they were walking on some kind of gravel. Jane was right, even with her limited skillset, being temporary deprived of one sense heightened the others.
"Now open your eyes."
And there it was in front of her was a great, big, and off-white – or was it more of a beige colored - house. They were standing on a path leading up to the door, framed on both side by grass and a few flowerbeds.
"What is this?"
"A house." He said amused.
"I can see that. What are we doing here?"
"It's yours... Ours. If you want it."
"What?"
"If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, this is how you've pictured your dream house."
She didn't know what to say. "It… It is, but..." Then her brain noticed something else. "Wait a minute..., did you say 'ours'?"
"Yes." He said like it was no big deal.
She mulled his answer over for a second before saying: "You know, if you wanted me to move in with you, you could have just asked, like a normal person. Buying a house is a little extreme, don't you think?"
Like a cunning fox he just smiled at her.
She narrowed her eyes at him, before turning her concentration back to the house. She took a moment to really look at it, taking it all in. He knew her too well, was the first thought that sprang to mind. This house looked almost exactly like what she had imagined her home would look like when she grew up. The clichéd white-picket fence and the big lawn, plus the multicolored flowerbeds, in short the whole dream house shebang.
"Remember I once told you I wouldn't seduce you over a meal. Well I feel we're way past that point in our relationship now so..." He hesitated a bit. "…So do you like the house? Should I tell the realtor yes? I will promise to always make you some deliciously home cooked meals, if you agree. Think about it, coming home to the smell of a pot-roast sizzling slowly in the oven or the smell of a homemade apple-pie." Again how could she say no to that? She loved his cooking.
She was going to come up with some sarcastic remark about burned food or the fact the he apparently were going to stay home while she worked, but first of all he never burned anything, he was a rather good cook - though she wouldn't admit that to him - and secondly she was so consumed by her surroundings that while she stood there studying the outer details of the house, she didn't notice what Jane was up to with his little speech and all until he was actually doing it. Nervously he kneeled - she didn't think anything of it, figuring he was just tying his shoelaces or something or other Jane like - like testing the soil or picking up a pretty rock - that was until he looked up at her, holding a red velvet box in his hands.
"Oh my God!" The words just flew out of her mouth. This was yet another surprise she had not seen coming. "What are you doing?" She looked around to see if anyone were watching them, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"Teresa. Will you marry me?"
She was staring alternately at him and the little box containing a beautiful ring, made of a thin gold band with a single diamond placed inside a heart.
He looked at her with big hopeful, maybe a little frightened, eyes. In any other circumstances she might have enjoyed prolonging the agony, but today she just didn't have the heart to. So she hurriedly said "Yes." Maybe it was a little too fast, but she figured she'd better do it before he changed his mind. Not that he looked like he would, he looked rather relieved at her answer actually, relieved and happy.
He stood up, slipped the ring on her finger, took her in his arms and twirled her around. When he sat her down again they were both smiling, overly happy and silly smiles. He kissed her, then said. "So is that a yes to the house also." She nodded and kissed him again.
"Okay then close your eyes again, and I'll show you the rest of it."
She looked at him with questioning eyebrows. "Again? Why?"
"Just humor me. I promise no more surprises."
"Then why do I have to close my eyes?"
"It's gonna sound silly, but you'll get a much better sense of the place like that. Its sounds, its smell, its feel."
She readily agreed. "You're right it does sound silly."
"Come on." He whined, then went for the enticing tactic. "Do it for me. Your fiancé." The word sounded so strange and at the same time so right in her ears.
"Okay, but don't think you'll be able to use that as an excuse for long."
He smiled and she closed her eyes again.
Like before he took both her hands in his and led her along the graveled path up to the house.
"Stop." He said and she did. "Step up." She had already seen the steps so she was prepared, she went up one step. As she did he said again: "Step up," and she took one more step up. "One more." He said and she did as she was told. They walked the length of three strides across the small wooden patio. Then stopped again. He let go of one of her hands and she heard the sound of a key being turned in a lock. The door opened, and she found that she was relieved that there were no squeaking sounds like in horror movies. From the quick looks of it she had from afar it had seemed pretty old, not old like rundown or falling to pieces kind of old, more like a place with a lot of history.
As they walked in she neither felt nor heard any creaking floorboards, on the contrary she could smell the fresh paint on the walls and feel the newly laminated wooden floors under her feet. And she imagined it to be as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside. They walked around for a bit, from room to room, getting a feel for the place as Jane would say. It wasn't a big place but it wasn't small either, it would be just perfect for them. In every room she noticed something new, even with her eyes closed. A different smell, the sound of birds through a window, a crooked door, a rough edge. Everything a nice mishmash of impressions.
None of them had spoken since entering. As they stopped in what was going to be the living room, Jane said: "So tell me. What do you think?" His voice echoed slightly, due to the size of the room, as soon as there'd be furniture in there that would disappear into the background. A little detail she probably wouldn't have noticed with her eyes open. She had on her little sensory experience bumped into a wall or two, it would have been worse had the place been fully furnished, then she would probably have ended up bruised and battered on the floor. Even though Jane had promised to catch her, he had been known to let her fall from time to time, but not when it truly mattered, she knew that.
She was a little afraid that when she finally was allowed to open her eyes the image she'd conjured up in her head wouldn't live up to the reality of what she would see. So with her eyes still closed she described her observations, and heard her voice reverberate of the walls like his had done a minute ago. When she finished she felt exhilarated and excited, as if a little stroke of magic had been added to her life, the childish wonder and curiosity it was to discover a completely new world. Then she opened her eyes and found that there had been no need to worry, Jane had made sure that his angry little princess got the castle she deserved.
xXx
Now he was doing this again, making her close her eyes as they made their way home. They'd lived here for six months, been married for three and this was what felt like their first weekend off in forever. It was late and already dark outside when they pulled up to their house. As they arrived at the fence Jane said again. "Ok now close your eyes as you promised."
"Can't you just tell me why?" She tried not too hopeful it would work. "I swear, Patrick, if there's a pink pony in there, doing God knows what on my carpet, you're in so much trouble."
"It's our carpet, dear." He corrected. "And no, it's actually a regular pony. Where would I have gotten the dye from?" He joked, but she wasn't amused.
"This better be worth it." She said and closed her eyes not altogether willingly. It had been a long couple of weeks, and Jane's shenanigans hadn't decreased - as some might have hoped - after they got married, so having to deal with that at work every day was more than enough for her. And right now all she wanted to do was crawl into their bed, pass out and sleep all weekend.
But as so often before, Jane had other plans. He led her to the door, this time holding on to only one of her hands, and walking besides her instead of in front of her. Another thing he did differently was that as soon as they were inside he let go of her hand and said: "Okay now follow my voice."
"Jane, what kind of game is this?" She only ever used his last name when they were at work or she was annoyed.
He thought she was cute when she was grumpy, but he also knew not to push her too far. "You'll see. Just do it."
She sighed and listened to him continuously saying "this way" or "that way" and she followed him as best as she could. They went past the coatrack, through the hall, around the corner, into the living room, left at the couch, round the dining table, onward to the kitchen, along the cupboards and the fridge, back in the hall and up the stairs, then the bathroom was next and lastly the bedroom. Then he went silent. "Patrick?" She tried. No answer. "Patrick what is this all about? Can I open my eyes now? Well answer me." Impatience had gotten the best of her.
Catlike he'd sneaked up behind her and when he embraced her in a hug she jumped a little in surprise. "Yes you can open your eyes now, dear." He said.
She opened them, and to her relief there was no trace of a pony or any other animal cozying it up on her bed sheets. She turned around in his arms. "What was all this about? Did you just want to see me make a fool of myself fumbling around the house in the dark?" She noticed he hadn't turned on a single light. "Or are we playing hide and seek with the neighbor's cat again? Practicing ninja moves? Don't tell me you're hiding a criminal under the table or beneath the sofa."
Her guesses enthralled him and made him smile like an idiot.
"Come on Patrick! Give me something to work with here."
He kissed her on the forehead and asked: "Do you know what makes a house a home?"
"People living in it." Came the clear-cut answer.
"Sure you can say that, but when does the house you live in feel like it's your home?"
"I don't know." She said having never honestly considered it.
"Oh come on. Guess." He urged her on.
Not being the biggest fan of guessing games she whined: "Just tell me."
"Party pooper." He sing-songed which in turn made her frown and roll her eyes at him. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere so he gave in. "Okay, okay I'll tell you. My own and altogether subjective opinion of what makes a house a home."
She raised one eyebrow awaiting his big reveal.
"A house is a home when you're able to walk around at night or in the dark, without falling or bumping into stuff."
"That's it?" Frankly this was less thrilling than he'd advertised she thought.
"Yes. That's it... Because you instinctively know where everything is."
"Wait... I can think of instances where this isn't true. Where this theory of yours holds no water whatsoever."
"Okay. Then let's hear it." He didn't mean for it to be a challenge but that's how it came out.
"First of all if someone moves stuff around." She started.
"That doesn't count. I'm talking about normal days. You know, when there have been no wild parties, only the people that live there, and..."
"Okay then what about people with kids, does the fact that their houses are messy - with all the toys lying around ready to be tripped on - mean that they are not living in homes?"
"Of course not woman. You're twisting my words. All I'm saying is..." He hesitated for just one second and she seized the opportunity to interrupt.
"You don't even know what you're saying, do you?"
"Yes I do. If you'd just let me finish." He said indignantly then paused, but this time she didn't interrupt. Then he cleared his throat and started again. "All I'm saying is... there are many types of different homes. Ours is a home because..."
"We love each other." The little minx interrupted again.
"Yes that too..., of course." He smiled and kissed her softly.
She then looked at him again ready with some new ammunition for the conversation. "So according to your theory, if you're in a prison cell and doesn't trip over your cellmate, that's a home?"
"Well technically, yes it is." He couldn't very well deny it so instead he gave his theory another dimension. "The size of the space isn't important."
"Oh so if you're blind the whole world is your home?"
He grinned she could be glib too. "Smooth move T, but just because they don't lose their footing or slip of the curbs they don't actually know where everything is. They just use other things to orient themselves with, like a cane or a dog or just their other senses... Sounds." He whispered the word in her ear. She closed her eyes. "Or touch." He continued whispering while gently sliding his hands from her cheeks, down her throat, over her shoulders, and down her arms until they came to rest at her hip. When she opened her eyes again, she was met by his intense gaze. Normally an indefinable color mixture of blue and green, but in the dim light his eyes were just another shade of grey. "Any more ways to poke holes in my theory?" He asked seductively.
"You are kind of distracting me from thinking right now." She said.
"So I win." He whispered into the skin of her neck so it send shivers down her spine.
His assumption gave her pause, she wasn't going to go down that easily. "I didn't say that. I still think you're wrong."
"Well where's your proof? Don't you detective people need that kind of stuff?" He countered.
"I'm off duty right now." She eloquently shot back.
"Well... then you wouldn't mind if I did this?" He nibbled lightly on her earlobe "...or this" his mouth traveled down her neck leaving soft kisses in its trail. In a few minutes resistance would be futile.
"I..." She felt his tongue caressing the skin near her collarbone, and she had to suppress a sigh. She started up again "I... I think it's wrong to categorize what a home is by any means. A home is a feeling, you can't quantify it."
He stopped what he was doing. "That's some big words you're using there."
"You sound impressed." She said. "I'm not stupid you know."
"I am impressed. And it's not that you're stupid, it's just that if you're able to conjure up such big words at a time like this, I must be losing my touch."
"So your diversion technic isn't working as it should then?" She asked.
He knew he was busted, but feigned innocence nonetheless. "What on earth are you implying? I would never..." but it wasn't worth it, so he just gave up midsentence.
She smiled knowingly. And for a bit the silence took over.
Until he asked: "So do you feel at home in our house, Teresa?"
"Yes I do. I love this house, however tidy or messy it is. And I love you."
He kissed her. "So do I. But do you know what?" He answered himself before she had a chance to. "I love you too."
That earned him a whack on the arm and a crooked smile.
"So what do you say, should we test the theory?"
"Didn't we just do that? I mean didn't I just walk through the whole house - our home - with my eyes closed."
"True. You did. I was thinking more along the lines of us having a messy home and see if we're still able to get around without tripping."
"Really you want it to be more of a mess than it already is?" Her puzzlement was apparent.
"It's not that bad, I just thought it could do with some teddy bears, or dolls, or maybe even some toy cars on the floor."
She paused as if having been struck by freight train. "What are you saying?"
"I think I'm ready, if you are."
"You want to have kids?" Her voice turned frail with concern and a little hope. He loved her for that - her concern and worry. For never once having asked or pushed him, even though he knew she wanted children of her own.
"Yes. I already know you'll be an exceptional mother, and besides it looks like I might need something to keep you here with me, now that you've grown immune to my charms." He smiled lightly.
"Are you sure? Absolutely sure? 'Cause if you're not. Kids are not... I mean… just being with you is enough for me." He knew she meant that and could see how hard she tried not to be hopeful. And it only made him love her more.
He looked into her eyes, made sure to keep his gaze steadfast as he said: "Teresa I love you! And I want you to have my children!"
A mix of emotions rolled over her face, and tears began streaming silently down her cheeks, but her eyes and mouth were smiling. The epitome of what constitutes happiness was radiating from every cell in her body. She threw her hands around his neck and hugged him tightly. He in turn lifted her and spun her around once, making her giggle. He sat her down, wiped away her tears with his thumbs and kissed her passionately.
When they came up for air, her eyes were tainted with a hint of fear when she said: "What if I'm too old?"
"There's no such thing as too old, my dear." He assured her.
"Maybe not for you, but what if I can't..."
"No 'what if's' Teresa." He interjected. "Our world is bad enough without us having to worry about hypothetical things and scenarios we have no power or control over. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. And in the meantime I think the sooner we start the better, whado you say?"
"Eager aren't we?" She teased. He was about to kiss her again when she placed her hand on his mouth effectively pushing him away. "Under one condition..."
"Hey I thought we agreed upon having to act fast before you only have children with insubordinate genes left to give me, 'cause there'll be plenty of those from my side of the family."
She ignored him. "Say you were wrong."
"About what, dear? You should know by now that I'm always right."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "This whole house/home thing."
"Hmm... wrong is such a strong word. How about we say it's a truth with modifications?"
"Patrick you're such a know-it-all. And for the record you're not always right!"
"But you do admit I am right most of the time."
As per usual she just rolled her eyes.
"Wherever you are Teresa, that's my home."
"You can be such a jerk sometimes," She scolded "And then you go and say something sweet like this. I just don't know what to do with you." She said and sighed.
"Say you'll always love me."
"You know I will. No matter what kind of stupid stunts you pull nothing will keep me from loving you."
"Then let's make some babies."
"Oh you're so romantic." She mocked shaking her head.
"I could go outside and pull the petals of the roses, and sprinkle them on the bed, if you'd like." He offered.
"And what do you think the neighbors will say tomorrow morning when all the roses are petal less?"
"That there's a petal thief lose in the neighborhood..." He offered helpfully. "Maybe I should go take some from Mrs. McClusky's garden too, just so it doesn't look suspicious that we were the only ones that got hit."
"Haha, you're funny." She mocked with a fake grin. "Planning a crime against our unsuspecting neighbors, and we've only lived here... how long exactly? Do I need to find a moving company?"
"Hey you asked. Besides you worry too much about what others think. It's no concern of theirs what our roses look like."
"Maybe not, but I still want our home to at least have a semblance of normalcy about it."
"Too late." He quipped "You might as well forget about it. As soon as the kids come all bets are off, believe me."
"Kids?! How many do you want exactly?" She sounded so taken aback that he couldn't help to tease her further.
"Five or six maybe." He said. As a bright smile played on his lips.
"Are you crazy? Or trying to make a sports team? Or what? I think you should be glad if we get one or two."
"Whatever you say, dear." He conceded. "Just remember that I love you no matter what. Whether we have 12 kids or none, live in a castle or in a cardboard box."
"I'd settle for something in between those extremes, thank you. But it would be easy finding our way around a cardboard box in the dark, now wouldn't it?" She asked roguishly.
He just played right along: "I'd bet you, you'd never feel at home faster."
"Aha! Busted!" Gloating definitely didn't become her.
"What? What did I say?" He was a tad confused.
"Feel. You said feel at home."
"So?" He recognized his slip, but pretended not to.
"So your theory holds no water. I'm sure you can live in the same place for years and never feel at home, or live in a place for a week and just know that this is where you're supposed to be." She explained.
"And here I thought you were the pragmatic one of the two of us. This sounds more like the touchy-feely girly kinda thing." He tried to jab her.
"So what? Now I'm not the woman you married."
"You are, of course you are... and you're so much more." He was trying his best to be smooth. "This just comes to show that you can still surprise me."
"And that's a good thing?" She asked.
"Yes. Because if you couldn't I would be bored to dead, and you know how I get when I'm bored."
"Yes I remember..." She tilted her head to one side as her eyes drifted up and to the left. "...last time... I don't think I've ever seen Bertram that angry. God forbid you'd ever be bored again."
"That's why I have you. To keep me in line. You're my very own moderating influence."
"I swear if you start calling me Jiminy I'll..."
He leaned in and took her words away with a kiss. "Enough talking, we should go to bed, we need to get up early tomorrow."
"Why? We're off for once, I was looking forward to sleeping in."
"Meh, sleep is for when you're old."
"Says the insomniac." Now it was her turn to jab.
"Hey not fair."
"Just tell me where we're going, I don't need any more surprises for one night."
"Okay I'll give you a hint, it has something to do with our home."
She sighed. "I love you Patrick, but if this is another one of those we-need-to-go-early-to-Ikea-to-get-the-best-Swedis h-meatballs-before-they're-sold-out trips, you can count me out. It's my day off, I need sleep!"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a doctor's appointment."
"A what? Why?"
"A doctor's appointment... and well I'm about 95% sure that you're pregnant."
"Wait what?!... How can you tell?"
"It's a glow thing." She looked at him skeptically. "No really." He assured her. "It's not wrong what they say, pregnant women do have a certain glow about them."
She knew better than to question his instincts, but she still had questions. "How long have you known?"
"A day or two give or take."
"And you didn't say anything." She didn't sound mad, but maybe a tiny bit disappointed.
So he proceeded to explain. "I had to be certain. I mean the glow thing is not an exact science, and you could just be coming down with the chickenpox or something."
"I've already had the chickenpox." She grumbled.
"You know what I mean." He said and saw how her hands unconsciously travelled down to her stomach, resting there comfortably, as her thumbs started to strike gentle reassuring circles.
"But you're certain now?" She asked.
"Like I said 95%, that's why I thought a doctor's appointment would be appropriate, but you know we can always go to Ikea too, if you're craving foreign meatballs."
"Actually right now I'm more in the mood for a bearclaw or some kind of danish." She joked.
"So foreign food or pastries." He said contemplatively. "Is that what I can expect the next nine months? 'Cause then I need to brush up on some of my cuisine skills."
"Yeah you better." She had every intention of making him make her feel like a princess for the next few months, and he had every intention of doing just that. "Come on, let's go to bed, I'm tired." She said and yawned as if on cue.
"Your wish is my command."
Him giving in so easily felt strange, like he was up to no good. "Why are you being so malleable all of a sudden? Is it because I'm pregnant, because then I should definitely have done this a lot sooner."
"It's because I love you."
"You're such a liar. You've never listened to me before, and I know how long you've loved me..., remember?."
He did remember. It might not have been love at first sight, more of a growing affection that over the years had blossomed into something more. But he did love her, very much so, and he had done so for many years.
They turned on some lights - having had this whole conversation in the dark like a pair of cat burglars - got ready for bed, snuggled into a comfortable spooning position, then turned off the lights again. A beat passed then Lisbon turned to face Jane.
"So when you said it had something to do with our home..."
"It has and it will, it's going to change everything, but in a good way. We'll be a family."
"I know."
She snuggled deeper into him, burrowing her head in the crook of his neck, draping her arm across his chest. He inhaled her unique scent, closed his eyes and kissed her forehead.
Her eyes searched his face for a second then she asked: "Do you feel at home Patrick?"
Even in the dim light she could see his bright smile. "More than you know." He answered honestly.
She relaxed her limbs and her breathing evened out and got heavier.
He moved his hand from its place on her hip down to her stomach and caressed it lightly and protectively, then whispered: "Home is where the heart is after all."
A/N: This story completely derailed.
I'm so not comfortable writing, you know smut-stuff, (no problem reading it) so I stopped it before I got carried away, sorry it's just not my style.
Another disclaimer: I'm not getting paid by Ikea, there's no deliberate product placement here.
This house/home thing was kinda my theory, and I didn't mean to but I guess I poked holes in it all by myself. I feel schooled by me, huh imaging that - feeling slightly schizo right now.