Her ankle ached despite keeping it propped up and iced for the majority of the day. Jane and Hightower closed the case in gold country without either of them killing each other, so that was something, she supposed.
Standing, she attempted to put some weight on the offending limb and winced.
"Lisbon, what are you doing?"
Jane, holding a cup of tea and a fresh ice pack, had materialized in the door of her office. Due to the late hour, the bullpen was empty and she had thought he'd wandered off to his attic…or wherever it was that he went when he left the building.
"Walking, what does it look like?" she snapped, irritable due to pain and annoyance. His antics had been the cause of her injury in the first place, so she wasn't feeling particularly warm and fuzzy towards him.
He stepped into the office, placing his cup and the ice on her desk before taking her arm and helping her to the couch. It hadn't been her intended destination, but she allowed him to situate her on the soft leather, lifting her legs onto the cushions as he handed her the cup.
"Chamomile," he told her, then surprised her by raising her feet enough to seat himself on the couch, settling her feet onto a pillow placed on his lap.
"Jane," she began in an exasperated tone, but curiosity quieted her as he rolled her pant leg halfway up her calf.
"Hush now," he said, gently unwrapping the stretchy Ace bandage from around her still slightly swollen ankle. To her surprise, he actually said, "I'm sorry, Lisbon."
Apologies weren't really Jane's style, so she chose not to push the topic, simply saying, "It'll heal."
He nodded, then took her bare foot in his hands, long, deft fingers pressing into the ball of the foot as his thumbs worked the top. The tense muscles relaxed under the attention and he moved up, avoiding the inflamed ankle to work on the knots in her calf.
She had no idea what brought this on, but she wasn't going to complain. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into the cushions and sipped her tea.
If asked, she couldn't have said how long she sat there, enjoying Jane's surprising ministrations, but she finished the tea and had even begun to doze. She smiled softly, but otherwise didn't react, as he tucked a blanket around her (where he'd conjured it from, she had no clue). Then he did something that did cause her to take a breath.
Gentle fingers caressed her foot again, ghosting over her ankle, careful not to exert undue pressure. Then, before she could react, she felt the soft whisper of warm lips on the top of her foot.
"All better," he said in an undertone, then settled her foot back onto the pillow, covering it with the blanket and his warm hands. Through cracked eyelids, she saw him close his eyes and allow his head to drop back onto the couch behind him.
Strangely enough, her ankle did feel better.
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