A/N: My thanks go to Tromana, always so willingly to help me out when inspiration lacks. Also, she happened to provide the prompt for this shot fic, that was supposed to be a flash-fic for the drabble and flash-fic tag at the mentalist bb community over at livejournal... (in case you were wondering: it was "another me, another you".)
Disclaimers: Uhm, no. I'm not a Heller, I don't own CBS, so... nope.
It was in the middle of the show when he saw her; she wasn't like the others, there for him. She was looking at her phone, checking the time every now and then, clearly annoyed. She was probably there with the redhead she was sometimes angrily looking at- a young woman who was way too enthusiastic.
She was different. And that was what immediately hit him.
He almost called her on the stage, but didn't; he didn't want to have her madder, so, he decided to be patient. He waited for the end of the show, then, with a silly excuse, like he was a silly teenager with a crush, he went looking for her.
She knew his name, while he didn't, but still, he lazily smiled and asked her out to dinner, presumptuous but not too much. She told him thanks, but no thanks, she wasn't interested in conman and fake psychics.
Her friend was disappointed. He was as well. But he needed to see that fire in those huge green eyes again. He wanted that fire to burn for him. He wanted to be consumed himself by those flames.
He had a good memory, remembered where the redhead was sitting, and thought that, maybe, she could help him out- she seemed interested enough in his so-called powers.
He discovered that, sat at 4 C, was a certain Van Pelt. He googled her, and yes, she was indeed the red. Grace also happened to be a cop, and according to a local Sacramento newspaper, her friend was also her boss. Her name was Teresa Lisbon, and had just closed the so-called Red John case.
He knew it was probably border-line stalker-ish, but he didn't care: he still went to wait for her at work, damning his own show. And he damned it, for Teresa seemed to be a workaholic. She left at half past ten.
He didn't know why, but he had to see her. Talk with her. And yes- have her, because visions of them, naked and sweated, had taunt him since the first instant. But it wasn't for the sex. Well, not only, at least.
When she saw him, she grunted something not very lady-like, but then blushed at the sight of the red roses. Still, though, she said no. Conmen weren't her cup of tea, red roses were such a cliché and seducing a woman over dinner was sophomoric.
She threw the roses back at him (on the head). Grace was very sorry and nice, and begged him to excuse her boss, but she was very stressed, and she really didn't know him (actually, he thought she knew him too well). He stared at her back and grinned: he wasn't going to give up yet.
He kept going to see her night after night, and always he got the same answer. He couldn't stand it, and yet he couldn't give up. He wanted her, maybe even needed her. She was the first woman who hadn't been touched by his charm, or wanted him for his money or his fame, and it could mean only one thing.
She was the one, even if she couldn't accept it yet, and there was only one way to get to her.
She hated him (and her boss) when he told her they were going to work together, and asked him if it was another long con, because, what was a supposed psych doing at the CBI? . He told her it wasn't a game for him, he didn't have anything in mind, if not redeem himself and help them out with his abilities- he had already done so in other cities as well.
Once Minelli was gone, though, he went closer to her and told her that the only thing he wanted was to have dinner with her, once. It was all he asked. She told him no. And she did it so again and again for weeks.
One day, they were stuck with a cold case, and he was (and had been) very annoying; she told him to solve the case first (because she thought he couldn't do it) and she would have gone to dinner with him. In half a day he got her a confession, and Grace (without being asked) got her some nice (sexy, borderline slutty) clothes to wear at dinner with such a gentleman and handsome man (she didn't choose any).
They had dinner at a small restaurant (despite what she had assumed), and she actually enjoyed the company and the small talk (she wasn't expecting to).
She won her hesitation, and joined in the conversation, talking about everything and nothing, the more and the less. He told her he was divorced (Angela) with no children, but spending a fortune in alimony (one of the reasons he was still playing the psychic circuit, he told her. Also, he had done that since the tender age of six), but mostly, he told her something she wasn't expecting leaving his mouth (she almost chocked on her spaghetti).
There's no such a thing as psychs.
She wasn't expecting such an admission from him, and ended up staying in silence the whole night, not knowing how to deal with this new side of Patrick Jane.
He drove her back home and kissed goodnight, his lips lingering on her cheekbone too long for comfort; she kept skimming over her skin afterwards, feeling it burning under her fingertips.
She saw her reflection in her mirror, and she had never been that way. Happy, and radiant.
He liked to flirt with her, very innocently, and liked to touch her, randomly, very casually - an hand at her hip, on her shoulder, on the small of her back, or her wrist to check the time- and he never failed to make her blush. She was simply adorable.
They spent a lot of time together. Mostly it was for work, but sometimes it was just the two of them. they often talked about of cases. They sometimes talked about themselves.
He didn't read her, he didn't even try. He knew that she wanted for him to know her, understand her, instead of reading her like she was a mark. Teresa didn't like too share, because she liked to suffer in silence and alone and because she didn't want to re-open old wounds, but sometimes, he was able to get some confessions.
It wasn't important at first. Things like her first boyfriend/fiancé (Greg, at Chicago. He wanted to marry her and elope, she told him she couldn't marry him over the phone when she was already in San Francisco), her niece who wanted to be called Annie instead of Annabeth and that her younger brother, Annie's dad, was a bailing agent
It took him other six months to get to the point where he knew (because she had told him, he had already guessed so) about her family, and it happened only after he told her of his own relatives (his mother had abandoned him, he had abandoned his father to run away with Angela). He had talked the whole time, always waiting for her to step in, but it hadn't happened, and he was a bit disappointed. He hoped she was trusting him by now, but it looked like he was wrong.
After he drove her home, though, Teresa stayed in the car, and, suddenly, insecure, with a low voice, she took him for his sleeve, and asked him to stay. "I just… I want you to stay." And he smiled, kissing her forehead. She didn't want the sex, he knew. She needed the comfort.
He went in her bed with his undershirt and boxer, and held her (clad in a jersey with her surname on it- probably James') while she whispered few words, about her mother, dead in a car crash (never found the driver) , her father( former hero turned alcoholic) and her brothers (raised protected them. Yes, also from their father). She cried in his undershirt, and he never stopped to kiss her hair and caress her back, until she fell asleep.
In the morning, she found him in the kitchen (he had left the bed before doing something stupid, but it wasn't like he was going to tell her he felt like a teenager whenever she was involved).
They were at a high school reunion (a recently close case, not her own, in Chicago, or his own, since he had never gone to high school) and her song was playing. She knew he knew, and when their eyes met, she blushed. Still, she didn't refused his offer to dance, and immediately fell in his comfortable embrace (her hands on his shoulders, her head in the crock of his neck, his nose buried in her hair, his hands on her hip and on the small of her back).
They kept dancing even after the song was over, and Teresa parted embarrassed.
He walked her to her room, and when he was already walking away, she called him back; she didn't run after him (it wasn't her style, was too scared of being rejected) but waited for him to return to her. only then, tentatively, she went on her tiptoes to kiss him, tenderly, quickly, on the lips.
He didn't answer. She almost went back in to her room, ashamed and embarrassed. Until he kissed her like there was no tomorrow(an Hollywood like kiss).
She smiled at him, smug (he was out of breath, he was wild, he was losing control) and guided him inside her room, holding his hand. She undressed him (too many clothes- jacket, vest, shirt, undershirt, slacks, underwear, socks, horrible brown shoes) and he undressed her, slower than her and with more reverence.
He had waited so long, he could wait a bit longer, had to enjoy the moment, paint it in his memory palace.
They made tender, slow love almost all night love, keeping getting lost in each other, keeping discovering and worshipping each other.
He woke up with Teresa asleep on his chest, and he smiled. He had been used to one night stands after his wife, and he had always left before they could wake up. He hadn't thought about another one since he had met her that very first evening, and now that he had tasted her, experiencing her fire on the tip of his tongue, he wasn't going to leave.
He wasn't' t a psych but he could see in the future matching wedding bands on their fingers, and since he wasn't crazy, he wasn't going to scare her away by proposing after just one night together.
After all, in this life, they had nothing to be scared of, no one that could get between them, endangering her life or the one of the ones close to him.
But it was just in this one. And it was all so perfect, that sometimes, he wondered if it wasn't all just a dream.