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I do not own The Mentalist. No copyright infringement is intended, no money made.
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AN: I was fairly certain I was done writing TM fics, but a couple of weeks ago I was on a long plane flight and this happened. It's pure plot-free fluff and I'm not sure it's worth publishing, but it has a Thanksgiving feel to it so I'm going to let it fly.
I hope this little two-scene ditty makes you smile.
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The jangle of slot machines grated on Lisbon as she walked through the casino lobby on her way to the gaming tables. A person of interest in their current case had decided to hit Vegas for some gambling, and Cho's assignment for her today was to observe him. She was tasked with learning his patterns and associates, and would remain alert for any other clues that might prove illuminating with regards to the case.
This surveillance was a "fluff" job, she knew. Since she'd revealed her pregnancy to Cho he'd kept her on the team with the understanding she would only be assigned jobs with minimal physical danger. While the cop in her chaffed at the restriction, she was grateful she wasn't stuck in the office doing boring computer research. Not yet, at least.
On the home front she and Jane were adjusting nicely to married life and it was amazing how fast he was coming along with the cabin remodeling. The news of their impending family had given him a definite timetable, and being Jane, he was determined to have everything perfect before they welcomed the baby. The master bath was already in working order and she suspected the bedroom would be nearly useable by the time she returned home from this case.
Her thoughts of home had ushered an inadvertent smile to her face, and she wiped it away with a hand. It was time to go to work. As she entered the gaming area, she subtly scanned the room for her man, one George Nichols.
She soon spied him at a craps table and proceeded to work her way through the crowd to the massive wooden bar in the back. Club soda with lime in hand, she approached a blackjack table and placed a couple of losing bets, intermittently observing Nichols. Then she pulled back, pretending to watch another bettor on a roll while situating herself so she could see her mark at the adjacent table.
He was fiftyish with coiffed white hair. His cleaner-pleated high end jeans, starched shirt and bolo tie looked more "Texas oil executive" than the con man he reportedly was. Funny how clothing could help define one's perception of a person. While she kept an eye on her man, her thoughts drifted back home.
Her very own Patrick Jane had made a clothing change recently. After a couple of nasty rips from nails, he'd hung up his three piece suits in favor of jeans and work shirts for his current construction work. In addition to their practicality, she found the new style drop dead sexy on him. Either that or it was those second trimester hormones kicking in, she mused.
Bringing her attention back to the job at hand, Nichols was having some serious luck, and as his stack of chips grew, his bets became more substantial. His winning streak drew several observers, making it easier for Lisbon to watch him without arousing suspicion. He was obviously enjoying the attention, and blew dramatically on the dice in his hand. "Daddy needs a new pair of shoes!" he boomed as he let the dice fly onto the table with flair.
Yes, thought Lisbon. Yes, he does! She'd been contemplating a fitting present to surprise her husband, and a new pair of shoes would be just the thing. He was still wearing those old brown brogans he'd had for years, and he needed something different to go with his new workman's attire. Something sturdy and comfortable and…well…enticingly masculine.
Nichols won yet again, gleefully raking in his chips, but when an ominous, funeral-suited man approached the table his demeanor changed abruptly. His eyes shifted around the room and he began to gather up his chips to cash out. Something was going down.
Across the room she caught Wiley's eye and nodded. He nodded back. As Nichols and the man in the black suit headed for the north exit, she saw Wiley make a call. Someone else would pick up their mark as he left the room, while Lisbon was supposed to maintain her cover. Her job done for the moment, she headed to the poker table determined to win at least enough money for Jane's new shoes. He'd enjoy that little detail if she could pull it off.
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Patrick found his evenings woefully empty while Teresa was in Vegas on the case, but at least he didn't need to worry about her. Cho held Lisbon in the highest regard, and Jane trusted him implicitly not to put her in any danger now that she was pregnant.
Instead of worrying he focused his energy on getting as much done as he possibly could while she was gone, often working late into the night. Once he'd completed the work on the master bedroom, he'd gotten the furniture delivered as well. Meticulous by nature, Jane had also seen to the finer details. The room was done all the way down to lamps and bed linens.
Sometime today Teresa would be home and he couldn't wait to see her reaction to the completed bedroom. Jane had sorely missed the excitement of showing her his day's accomplishments every evening after dinner. (He'd learned quickly that food must come first, given her pregnancy-fueled appetite.) And he most certainly missed what often came after that. If he had known jeans and a flannel shirt would have such an aphrodisiac effect on his wife, he'd have made that change a long, long time ago.
In anticipation of her homecoming, he spent all morning tidying up the construction site. He had a special dinner planned – something he was sure she'd like. After they ate he would reveal the newly appointed master bedroom, and if she wasn't too tired from travelling, they might just get to christen it properly.
The sun was sinking into the orange western sky by the time he heard the crackle of her tires on the gravel driveway. He hurried out the front door to greet her. She was out of the car in a flash, giving him a warm smile, and he pulled her close for a kiss. She was gorgeous and glowing, and obviously happy to be home.
He retreived her suitcase from the trunk. "How was your flight?"
"Bumpy," she groused. "And they ran out of peanuts." She sniffed the air. "Is that Italian?"
"Chicken marsala."
"You didn't?" Her face lit up.
"I certainly did. It's nearly ready."
They ate straight away, and it was obvious he'd made the proper choice with regards to the menu. The "Lisbon who used to pick at her food" had been replaced by the totally different "voracious, pregnant Lisbon" who cleaned her plate with gusto. Tonight she even asked for seconds.
"If you keep cooking like this I'm going to weigh five hundred pounds by the time this baby comes," she quipped.
"More of you to love, m'dear, more of you to love," he assured her good-naturedly. Finally he could wait no longer. "Would you like to see what I've been doing while you've been out prowling around Vegas?"
She nodded and took his hand, indulging him as she would an excited child. He grabbed her suitcase with his other hand and guided her to the closed bedroom door. Still a performer at heart, he opened it with flourish, revealing the fully furnished and decorated bedroom. Crisp white curtains hung in the windows and the expensive patterned comforter she'd admired in a catalogue a few weeks back adorned the bed.
Jane reveled in the unmistakable delight on her face, enjoying a warm internal glow of satisfaction. She immediately walked over and sat down on the bed, running her hand over the silky comforter. "Umm, love this," she purred. Then she looked him in the eye and added a quiet, "Thank you."
He was on his way to sit down beside her when she suddenly hopped up. "Oh! I forgot. I brought you a present."
"For me?" he asked as he sat on the bed. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten that many presents over the course of his lifetime and he'd always been more comfortable giving them rather than getting them.
She pulled a box wrapped in brightly colored paper out of her suitcase and returned to the bed, placing it in his lap.
"It's big," he said awkwardly, hesitating.
"Open it," she encouraged him, amused at his reluctance.
He tore off the paper and lifted the top off the box, revealing a pair of top quality dark brown pull-on work boots. He instinctively reached to touch them, appreciating the feel of the supple, oiled leather.
Oh my. Shoes. She got me shoes. Tears welled in his eyes as he remained silent, not trusting his voice to speak.
"If you don't like them, I can take them back and you can get whatever kind you want. I won the money for them at a poker table, I'll have you know."
"No!" he managed. "They're…" His voice cracked a little as he added, "…perfect."
He wasn't going to tell her those old brown oxfords were the last gift Angela had ever given him. No, he would say nothing about that. Instead he decided it was fitting that shoes were the first gift Teresa had bestowed upon him since they were married. He looked up at her face, noting her concern that the gift hadn't pleased him.
"They're a wonderful gift, Teresa. New shoes for a new journey," he assured her. "And well done at the poker table." That earned him a smile.
He pried off his old shoes and pulled on his new footwear. Then he rose, bounced on his toes, and proceeded to walk around the room. "Right size," he confirmed. "Very comfortable."
"They look great with those jeans," she said with a hint of seduction into her voice.
"You think?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Oh hell, yes," she answered, adding something akin to a growl. She stood up and sidled toward him. Slipping a hand into one of his back pockets, she pulled him close, pressing against him in all the right places. "I missed you," she breathed into his mouth as she placed her other hand in his curls and drew him down for a kiss.
"Missed you too," he murmured in reply. She felt soft and warm, and for the millionth time he was thankful he had finally gambled and told this wonderful woman he loved her. Now he had a partner for life and soon he would have a home and a family. He knew he was lucky, and for that he was immensely grateful.
He wrapped his arms around her, sliding a hand up under her blouse to feel the velvety skin of her back. She sighed and leaned closer as her tongue flirted playfully with his. His good luck showed no signs of changing. I'm on a roll, he thought.
And when his wife whispered in his ear exactly what she wanted him to do next, he stopped thinking altogether.
Daddy had a new pair of shoes.
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