A/N: I'm taking a break from cleaning (ug) and decided to write a happy little ditty. Death. Lies, and Videotape is so dark that I need to add some light to the universe LOL I've never been one to be able to write one-shots well so I thought I'd try. I failed LOL... so this is a two shot. This takes place a few days after Bloodshot. All mistakes are mine, and I don't own any of these characters. I just like making Grace blush.
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Patrick Jane stretched out lazily on his brown leather couch, one arm slung over his head, the other twirling a pencil around and round beside him, watching. It had been just a few days since he'd been blind and he had promised himself that he would enjoy every moment of sight from now on. Knowing himself, he knew that promise wouldn't last long because he'd get bored and some other new obsession would come and take it's place. But for now, he was content to watch and observe.
With Cho and Rigsby off interviewing a potential suspect and Lisbon gone to some 'leadership conference' it was only he and Van Pelt left in the bullpen from their team. He was just there because he had to be somewhere, and Grace was there to answer the phones. It was fine with him. Grace was as interesting person to study as any, especially since her little mishap with the bomber boyfriend. She'd taken the next day off after the incident, but came to work the next day all smiles and charm. Interesting.
Grace had been the object of his observation for the past fifteen minutes. Her back was to him, her red hair flowing fluidly down nearing her waist. It was curled some today. Jane knew that she only did that on days when she felt self-conscious. Like she was trying to hide behind her curls or that if she dressed nice, people would think that she was ok. It was to be expected, he thought.
Finally, Grace huffed loudly and turned her chair around, eyeing the consultant directly in his baby blues. "Can I help you with something?" she asked agitated.
"Me? No. I'm fine." he grinned mischievously.
"Is there a reason you are staring at me?"
He shrugged. "I just find you very interesting."
"That a fact." she said, he couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment that caused her cheeks to redden slightly. He loved having that affect on her... he loved having any affect on anyone, but especially making Grace blush. It was a good way to spend a boring Friday afternoon.
"That's a fact."
She raised a brow. "You aren't going to try to read me, are you?"
"No."
"Good--"
"I don't have to try. I can read you, Grace. You are an open book."
"You don't know me at all." she turned back to her desk and tried to remember what she was working on. She heard Jane clear his throat behind her. Annoyance made her turn back to him. "Ok, what do you know about me? Or what do you think you know?"
Jane sat up, ran his fingers through his tossled blonde tresses, and leaned over on his knees. "I'm not talking about any deep seeded trauma. We've already covered that, and frankly, I'm not in the mood to discuss deep emotional turmoil."
"Neither am I." she visibly relaxed, happy that at least their conversation wouldn't depress her over the weekend.
"Good."
"So?"
"What?"
"Ug-- you're so frustrating." she turned her chair back around, but curiosity got the best of her. "Ok, you say you can read me. Go ahead. Read." she challenged. "Tell me what I'm thinking."
Jane grinned devilishly, closed his eyes melodramatically, then opened them back. "You are thinking that as much as you'd love to kiss Rigsby, you'd love to kiss me more." Her face turned bright crimson and she stuttered a second. "You are a cruel man, Jane."
"Oh, I'm just kidding you, although, I have to say, I am a pretty good kisser. Rigsby on the other hand, I have no idea. He does have those little thin lips, but if you are into that kind of thing--"
"Stop it, Jane."
"Ok." his voice turned serious. He walked over to her and sat down on her desk. "You are thinking that you hate it that that cougar woman from the country club called for Rigsby while he was gone. You hate it that you had to take a message for her, and you detest the fact that he will go out with her tonight."
"You don't know he'll go."
"Oh, he'll go. If not to prove to himself and his 'co-workers' that he doesn't have a thing for you, which he does, but that's not relevant now."
Despite herself, she smiled. He had that annoying way to make you smile without you wanting to. "Then what is relevant?"
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. He walked over to Rigsby's desk, grabbed the 'cougar's' phone number, and walked away whistling. A few minutes later, he returned to his former perch on Grace's desk. "Go out with me tonight."
"Wha--what?"
"No, not like that. Not a date. Just two bored co-workers going out to dinner. What do you say?"
The gleam in his eye told her that she shouldn't do it, but it was Friday night and she was bored and it could be interesting going to eat with Jane. She'd never really spent any time away from the office with him. She wondered if he'd play mind tricks on her all night. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. I promise, Grace. You'll be glad you went."
"I doubt that. But ok. It's a non-date."
His smile broadened and he rubbed his hands together joyfully. "Excellent. I'll meet you there at 6."
"No, you'll pick me up at 6:30." she paused. It was kind of fun playing back with him. "If you ask a girl out, even on a 'non-date' then you have to pick her up and you have to pay. That simple."
"Grace Van Pelt. Traditional girl."
She nodded with a smile and waited for his answer. "Fine. I'll pick you up at 6:15, but we eat where I want."
"Fine."
"Fine." he agreed, walking out of the office. He turned briefly to grin at her. Once he was gone, her good mood faded and she laid her head on her desk. What had she gotten herself into?
