My little Prequel to All Fixed and also a Summer Secret Santa Gift for Lizzybeth! Happy Summer!
Disclaimer: I promise, I do not own The Mentalist
The Dark Side of Potato Chips (The Prequel to All Fixed)
Wayne Rigsby walked into the bullpen, a freshly opened package of potato chips in his hand. Looking down he smiled, reaching down to pull out one of the delectable crispy chips from the bag, enjoying the crinkling sound it made. He brought the salty snack to his mouth, happily popping it in to chew.
But here was the dilemma, his back hurt. First thing this morning he chased down the suspect, having to jump a fence to grab the younger man by the back of the shirt to bring him back own. Of course Rigsby had landed gracefully on his back. But ever since he got back, Lisbon made him sit at the desk to look over some files, but he was tired of his back hurting and staring at the same little spot on the wall once his eyes began to water from staring at the small print. So, would a little 'change of scenery hurt?' no, he thought not, and at the moment, Jane's couch looked so very tempting and inviting.
He must have stood there, eyeing the couch carefully as he placed a couple more chips in his mouth. Glancing around the bullpen to make sure there was absolutely no sign of the mischievous consultant, he hurriedly made his way to sit down on the plush leather cushions.
Complete, absolute, heaven.
Rigsby leaned against it, letting a sigh escape his lips. It felt nice, no wonder Jane enjoyed lying around on this couch, staring away at…Elvis? He mentioned there was a certain stain on the ceiling that resembled Elvis, he just wondered if that were true. So without much further ado, he found him reclining back in the couch, staring up at the ceiling only to see…many stains. Right now he was just curious as to which one the consultant was gazing up at.
None of the stains above resembled Elvis.
He took it a bit as a disappointment, but they all knew how Jane's mind worked.
Sighing as he slipped his eyes shut, his hands wrapping around the potato chip bag, he snuggled into the couch. The cool leather felt nice, very nice. Smiling to himself, he wished he could have his very own couch in the CBI bullpen. Lisbon may not appreciate having two couches in the bullpen, but a man could only dream.
Suddenly, something loud and obnoxious emitted from his back pocket unexpectedly. Rigsby's eyes shot open and he jerked upwards, the bag of potato chips coming loose from his grasp as he reached behind himself to find his cell phone. The ringing continued as he tried to find it. Once finding it, he lifted it to his ear.
"Hello?" he grunted, not really feeling at that happy with whoever was on the other end of this phone call.
Nothing.
No one was on the other line.
Rolling his eyes, he snapped his phone shut, mumbling something about children pulling pranks. Rigsby placed his phone down on the arm of the couch as he reached down to the cushion beside his thigh to pick up his bag of potato chips. What he touched was only the now heated leather of the couch.
With his eyes snapping open, Rigsby looked downwards, seeing nothing below his fingers except a few crumbled pieces of chips. Eyes widening he looked down, seeing around his feet was broken chip pieces littering the floor, leading a trail to under Jane's couch.
"Damn."
"Rigsby? You okay?" his eyes moved up, catching a glimpse of Grace entering the bullpen, "Rigsby, why are you sitting on Jane's-Oh goodness," she glanced down, seeing all the chips around the floor, "We need to clean this up," she set down the file on her desk to move towards the crumbled pieces of chips, "Jane will not be happy."
Rigsby groaned, getting up from the couch and accidentally brushing the pieces of his pant legs and onto Grace, "Sorry," he said quickly, also kneeling down beside her to begin the actions of picking them up, "Where is he?"
She shrugged her shoulder, "Probably following a lead with Lisbon," she brushed a small pile into her hand, "All we need to do is clean most of this stuff up and when Lisbon gets back, tell her to get the cleaning crew to clean underneath Jane's couch tonight so in the morning he would never realize what happened."
Rigsby nodded, "Good idea."
"Nice," Grace and Rigsby boh looked up to see Cho standing by the doorway of the bullpen, his hands on his hips, "What happened."
"Rigsby spilled his chips."
"Accidentally spilled my chips," he corrected Grace abruptly, wanting to make sure she got the story correctly, "My phone went off and it jumped me…"
"So it scared you."
"Of course not."
End