AN: Written for the "bruise" challenge at fan_flashworks, and the August 2013 Challenge (prompt: blue) on Paint It Red.
"You love starting fights, don't you?" Lisbon grumbled as she fastened her seat-belt.
Jane looked at her with raised eyebrows. "They always prove useful in the end, so I don't know why you're complaining."
"Useful? The only result I can see from this one is that you're going to be black and blue tomorrow," she retorted, turning the key in the ignition.
"Why do we say that? Bruises aren't blue. Black, yes, and purple, and sometimes greenish or yellowish, but I wouldn't call them blue," he mused. "And no, Lisbon, I'm not concussed, simply considering the absurdities of the English language."
She looked at him in astonishment, then remembered she was driving and turned her attention back to the road. "Even for you, that's impressive, though I'm still not convinced you haven't got a concussion," she replied.
"How can I have a concussion when I didn't receive any blows to the head?"
He had a point, she had to concede. "It must be about the only place you weren't hit."
"Don't exaggerate," he said with a wave of his hand, then turned the questioning around. "How are you? It looked like you took some hard blows."
"I'm fine," Lisbon replied shortly, ignoring the twinge of pain in her side. Both the men involved had been a lot bigger and heavier than her, and even her police training hadn't let her escape completely unscathed when she was pulling them apart and off Jane.
"You're a terrible liar," Jane told her.
"I'm comparatively fine," she snapped. "I'm not at all sure I shouldn't take you to the emergency room; those guys gave you quite a pounding before I broke the fight up."
"I'm fine, Lisbon. As you say, I'll be "black and blue"" - he mimed quote marks with his fingers - "tomorrow, but there's no real harm done. Besides, it was worth it."
"In what way?" she demanded, thoroughly exasperated, and he grinned provokingly.
"Think about it, I'm sure you'll figure it out," was all he would say in reply to her repeated questions.
Eventually, she gave it up, reasoning that that might just annoy Jane into explaining himself. While it did get him to speak, all he would do was drop cryptic hints. By the time they reached the CBI building, Lisbon had been driven to wondering aloud why she'd bothered to pull him out of the fight at all - and to feel quite tempted, at the smug look which was Jane's reply, to punch him herself. She didn't, of course.
She kicked his couch instead.