Disclaimer: N'yap.
A/N: Em's (Tiva4evaxxx) being all Jisbon on me again - if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Or, if you can't beat Em, join Em. Okay, really really bad joke. So this is for her, and Hannah (YouGottaSingAlong) because they're both off school (lucky sods, but more Em because it's only her ankle. Wouldn't wanna be Hannah).
A/N2: Drabble oneshot thing, Jane's POV.
I can see how she looks at me, clearer than she sees it herself. It hurts to see that she… well, despite my reputation; I won't be so egotistical to say that Teresa Lisbon is in love with me. It hurts to see that she's falling in love with me. I don't want her to. I don't want to let her. I've tried to stop it but I can't pull myself away. I need her. She makes me feel like I'm worth something again. She soothes the pain; she lets me be happy. And I want to kiss her. Almost irresistible, this desire to press my lips to hers to make her see. To make her see that I love her, that she could love me. I could too. The right words, the right look, the slightest brush of lips… she could be mine. And yet I won't. Me, I can recover from anything. It doesn't matter to me if I get hurt. Nothing can be worse than what I've been through. Lisbon has so much to lose though, and I couldn't take it from her.
I thump my head back against the cushion, cursing myself, though I'm not sure what for. Swinging up onto my feet, I wander through the halls of the CBI. Most people ignore me these days, they've gotten used to it. Eventually I end up in our little kitchen. She's there, making herself a cup of coffee, humming to herself so gently that it's a miracle I can even hear. I wrap myself around her, taking the spoon and mug from her hands but trapping her there, in my arms. These small pleasures I allow myself.
"Jane," she says, her voice low, warning, but a touch of amusement on the edge which tells me I'm still safe. "Let me go."
I just smile to myself. She wriggles around in my arms, pushing against me. Eventually we're facing each other, an inch apart. She suddenly seems to realise the awkwardness of the position, and blushes, muttering something and ducking out beneath my arms. She looks pointedly at the half-made drink I'm still holding. "I'll finish it," I tell her, and she smiles gently. She would argue, but she knows there's no point, so she pushes herself up to sit on the table, waiting.
I don't turn around, but I know.
She's looking at me again.
Will you stop yelling at me now Em?