First, thanks to Kathiann and Elodie Wolfe for the pre-reading and feedback. Okay, this fic (probably OOC, sorry!) showcases Jane with a blatant attraction to Lisbon. It is a continuation of chapter 28 of 30SoR. I know I said I was done, but this fic was necessary for a certain deal I made *cough* morning's-broken-angel *cough*. Probably easier to understand if you at least read that chapter, but I'll try to situate it quickly. Now that Jane's let go of some of his angst, he can't seem to hold back his interest in a certain head agent. I'm taking some liberties with time frame. I don't think Jane could move on like this in a matter of weeks. I think that months to years are more likely. ; ) Okay, now I think I'm really done. Honest. Sorry for the very long AN.

Don't own them.

Boxers, Briefs, and Finish Lines

One of the things Patrick Jane loved about Teresa Lisbon was that she surprised him much more often than he thought possible.

Even the fact that he loved something about another woman was a surprise to him. Well, it had been at first, but he was getting used to it. Months and months had passed since he had removed his wedding ring. Close to a year since he removed that awful, constant reminder of his failure.

But he wouldn't think about that now. He had much more pleasant things to think about. Like how long it had been since he discovered that Lisbon was particular about her lingerie.

Four months and eight days. Give or take.

He watched her now as she paced in front of the team, her eyes glued to the file in her hands. He analyzed the way her button up blouse clung to her torso, trying to discern if there was a hint of color underneath the pale blue of her shirt.

Hmm. Nope. Nothing.

Damn.

Maybe it was a two-toned set today. Red and black? Nah. If it was red, it had to be pure, unadulterated red. Anything else would just come across as gaudy on her pale skin. Although he personally thought that deep, rich colors would suit her best, he would bet that a light spring green and pale pink would give her a delicate fragile look. One that would compliment her collarbones.

And what lovely collarbones she had. He watched the peek of skin from behind the collar of her shirt. Following the line of her neck up, his gaze met hers.

"Do you have a theory, Jane?"

Ah, yes. The case. Well, he did have a theory on that, but his theory on her was much more fascinating at the moment. He wondered idly if his years repressing emotion had caused him to become overly-obsessed with this subject (Lisbon's underthings) now that he was beginning to let go of his rigid control. Now that he was beginning to move forward.

Surprisingly, his mental finish line had a flag raised that looked suspiciously like those red, barely there panties he had lifted off the pavement all those months ago.

Not that he was complaining.

Lisbon cleared her throat, still waiting for a response, and he smiled. "I think Oswald was a pawn. The JFK assassination would have taken guts and goading. Still thinking on possible motives and accessories."

He had said it to annoy and his objective was achieved. Lisbon's brows drew together in a scowl. "Were you even listening to what I was saying?"

Before he could respond, Rigsby cut in. "Really? I think he acted alone."

"Naw, definitely a conspiracy," Cho rebuttled calmly. Van Pelt wisely remained silent. Lisbon's face became bewildered, as if she was wondering just where she had lost control. She sighed.

"Whatever. Back to the case..." With that, she dismissed Jane from the discussion. Perfect. Now he would have a reason to speak with her privately, just the two of them. He had to share his theory concerning the case with her and it was much more entertaining to do so away from the eyes of the team. Much easier to tease her without limits, to push the boundaries of their relationship and watch her frustration and adorable blush.

It was all about timing.

And his impeccable sense of timing gave him the perfect opening when the gang went out for lunch. Lisbon had declined—something she wanted to look into, she said. Jane was curious about this 'something,' but was sure that he would ferret it out so he wasn't worked up over it. After knocking on Lisbon's office door (for some reason her blinds were drawn—curious), he gave her only seconds before entering without her verbal consent.

He found her hanging up her phone. She looked up at him, brushing her hair back behind her ears. Sarcasm practically dripped from her next words. "Have a new idea on who goaded Oswald into shooting JFK?"

He fought the urge to laugh out loud. Before he could answer, she did.

"News flash, Jane. I don't care. Go bounce your conspiracy theories off Cho."

She looked back down at her paperwork. He wondered how she could dismiss him so easily from her office when he had such a hard time ridding even thoughts of her from his mind. He slid into the chair in front of her desk, staring at her. This continued for a few long minutes before she finally snapped.

"What now, Jane?"

"I have a theory on the case."

"What the hell? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing carefully. Must be another headache.

Hmm. Maybe that was why it was so easy for her to dismiss him. He did tend to be the cause of her headaches. Good thing he didn't take it personally. He opened his mouth to let her know that he had just now developed his theory (mentally crossing his fingers in preparation for the lie), but she cut him off.

"And don't tell me that you just had this epiphany. I know you had an inkling earlier. You had that look you get."

Ooh, intriguing. A look. And apparently one that she had taken the time to notice. "What look? Pray tell, Lisbon."

He leaned forward eagerly. She sighed.

"The look you get when you're spinning something about in your mind. You had that look today at the team meeting."

In his defense, he tried very hard to stop his spreading grin. Really, he did.

"What is so funny now?"

She actually sounded more tired than pissed. He didn't really find that to be an improvement. Angry, she was rather fun and definitely beautiful. Tired—well, tired just made him a bit worried.

"Nothing, my dear Lisbon." She studiously ignored the term of endearment, certain he was being his arrogant, irritating self. "I hate to break it to you, but I wasn't thinking about the case during the meeting."

"What were you thinking about?" The words were out before she really thought it over. If she hadn't been so tired, she would have noticed the impish sparkle in Jane's eyes before she opened her mouth. A sparkle which would have set alarm bells ringing. As it was, all she could was attempt disaster control. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"No, no," he protested, grinning widely now. She wondered if he knew that particular grin was rather predatory. "You asked. You're clearly interested."

He brushed over her denials. "I was simply contemplating the hue of your unmentionables."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the faint blush that blossomed high on her cheekbones. "Jane, I believe the very word 'unmentionables' indicates that they are not to be mentioned."

"Eh, potayto, potahto," Jane said flippantly. Lisbon shook her head, pushing a stack of papers to the side so she could rest her elbows on her desk. Silence fell.

"So," Jane drew out the syllable, stretching it in the stillness between them.

Lisbon refocused on Jane's face, wondering when he was going to start outlining his crazy, yet somehow plausible and eerily accurate theory for the case.

"So?" she responded, waiting for him to bring the conversation back to the case. He had already gotten a blush out her. Usually that satisfied him. It seemed like he had a personal goal: 'cause Lisbon embarrassment at least once every other day.' She could practically picture its line on his to-do list.

"What color are they?"

"Unbelievable, Jane! This is so not an appropriate discussion for the workplace. Actually, for any place. I am your boss," she snapped.

"Technically, Minelli is my boss. You are just the one that gives me orders—the intermediary, if you will," he pointed out, feeling it necessary to correct her. It would probably push yet another of her buttons.

He was right. She scowled at him. "The technicalities don't matter. You don't see me asking what color your underwear is, do you?"

"It doesn't bother me to share." Jane shrugged and gestured expansively. "They're dark blue. Would you like to know the cut?"

Lisbon shut her eyes tightly, counting to ten and forcing the image of Jane in dark blue skivvies out of her mind. God, it was more difficult than she expected. If she ever saw it in real life, it would be a lost cause. The image would probably be burned to her retinas.

"Jane, unless you have something pertinent to the case, I suggest you vacate the premises or I may not be responsible for my actions," she warned, opening her eyes to glare at him. His mocking grin faded and he favored her with a very serious expression, his eyes intent on her face.

"You would never deny responsibility for your actions, Lisbon. You're too good a person." And he really believed that. She was. She had her flaws, like anyone else, but there was one thing he could always count on her for—being true to her actions. He had never seen someone else act so unapologetically, yet be sorry to have to do so at times. She would never say 'sorry' for doing something, but he knew that she was sometimes sorry that she had to do something. That would be the only kind of apology one would receive in relation to her actions. A very subtle, but significant difference.

Lisbon squirmed a bit under his gaze before trying to change the subject. "The case?"

Jane humored her and his smile fell back into place as he described his theory to her—a process which, on her part, began with skepticism and ended with resigned acceptance. When he finished, she leaned back in her chair.

"Fill Cho in when they get back from lunch and have him find the room mate. We'll see how that angle pans out and then I'll consider more of what you're saying," she said. He nodded, standing and heading to the door. He opened it and paused.

"Lisbon?"

She looked up from the files she had already turned to. "Yes?"

He smiled broadly and winked. "Boxer briefs. Much more comfortable with suits."

He didn't have to see her exasperated and irritated face before he shut the door to enhance his enjoyment of the moment. He whistled happily as he headed to Cho's desk.

Now, hopefully she would be as tortured with scantily clad images of him as he was of her.

Really, it was all the fault of those damn red panties.