AN: A little Saint Patrick's Day oneshot for the day that's in it. I'll take this opportunity to wish you a very happy day from Ireland - Lá fhéile Phádraig shona daoibh! Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Lisbon bundles a handful of sheets together and stretches across her desk to push them out of her reach. She takes the opportunity to eye between the blinds. It's a quarter to eleven and Patrick is nowhere to be seen. It's not unheard of him for to stroll in to work a couple of hours late, unperturbed and wondering what Rigsby is raising his eyebrows at him for. It's not unheard of, but it's not an everyday occurrence either, and that's a good thing, Teresa thinks to herself with a small smile. Somehow Jane manages to cause enough trouble for her as it is. Just as well there's been no new cases today, just a backlog of paperwork from some cases earlier in the week. Teresa sighs as she shuffles the next small stack of papers closer to her. It has to be done.
As she picks up her pen, her office door opens. She can just tell it's him. She refuses to look up. Patrick pauses at the open door, waiting for her response. She doesn't satisfy him with one. He makes a face and turns round to close the door behind him.
"Good Morning, Lisbon," he says cheerfully.
"Morning, Jane." She gives in and eyes him suspiciously. "It's almost ten to eleven."
"Yes, it is."
"Is there any particular reason why you're so very late with no apparent reason?"
Jane shrugs and crosses the room to sit on the couch.
"Oh Lisbon, wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I would have thought that to someone with your kind of heritage it would have been obvious. It's my name day!"
"It's your wha-"
"-Of course, not that it's even a tradition celebrated in Ireland itself, I believe, but the custom still stands."
Lisbon takes a moment to attempt to understand what she is hearing.
"It's Saint Patrick's Day," she says. "And because of that, it's okay for you to be almost two hours late?"
"Thank you, Lisbon; I knew you'd be reason-"
"Damn it, Jane, you know that's not.." she trails off. There was simply no arguing with him when he was like this.
She turns her attention to pretending to look busy with the documents in front of her. She picks up the forgotten pen again.
"Lisbon, I won't pretend not to notice that darling green blouse you're donning for the day that's in it." He raises a single finger as she begins to protest. "Don't even begin to deny it. No shame in it, Teresa. It's as clear as day to anyone there's Irish blood in you, never mind the black hair and green eyes. Hell, even if there wasn't, that'd be no reason not to take pride in today. The blouse suits you; I like it. Like I said, it's darling."
Lisbon stares him out. Jane sees he isn't getting anywhere fast.
"Alright," he says, pulling himself out of the couch; "I'm going." He opens the door with one hand and goes as if to leave. Lisbon breaks off her stare and looks down to her desk, making another attempt at the new stack of papers. Jane leans back in through the door.
"Hey – Lisbon," he half whispers.
"Yes, Jane?" Lisbon looks up, humouring him.
"Happy Saint Patrick's Day."
"Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Patrick." She smiles in spite of herself.
Jane beams back with a wide grin, and the office door swings shut behind him.
