Disclaimer: No, I am not Bruno Heller.
Summary: Crack!fic. Cho can't stand watching Lisbon and Jane doing everything BUT getting together. So he starts dreaming up little scenarios to ease his irritation... pretty unbelievable, probably OOC, completely harmless. If you don't like this sort of thing, don't read. Rated T for adult references/language.
A/N: I originally had no intention of posting this little bit of insanity, but I'm so badly stalled with writer's block for my multi-chap that I'm trying to kick-start my creativity. By any means necessary. Which apparently includes the following story.
Wishing Might Make It So
*SLAM* Lisbon's office door closing rattled the pens in the cup on Cho's desk. He paused in his typing for a moment, and then continued.
"Oh Patrick, how long must we keep our torrid love affair a secret?" he wrote, and stifled a smile.
"I know it's difficult, Teresa, but we have to be careful. What will the team say?"
"We'd say it's about damn time!" the three agents chorused from the other side of the door.
Lately, Jane and Lisbon's dancing around each other was really getting under Cho's skin. He secretly retaliated by writing outrageously bad romantic stories where they were the stars.
"Oh dear GOD!" screeched Teresa. "How long have you three known?"
"Since about the time we found your bra in the backseat cushions of the SUV, boss," said Kimball, the slightly built but incredibly handsome Korean agent.
"And your underwear in the ceiling fixture over my desk," added Grace, the bright and inquisitive redhead.
"And your MMPH MMPHHH MMMMPHH," began the tall, gangly man, before the redhead slapped her hand over his mouth. No one wanted to know what Wayne had found under the meeting room table.
A loud thud from inside Lisbon's office interrupted his train of thought. Oh well, he had several stories currently in progress. He could always pause in "Miss Lisbon's Regrets" and continue with the next scene in "Prisoners of Passion."
"Teresa, darling, do we always have to use the handcuffs? Don't you trust me?" said Patrick, twisting his wrists in silent complaint.
She scowled back at him. "After your abandoning me for six months to go on yet another of your fruitless chases? Do I even need to answer?"
"But my love," he countered, "Why on earth would I want to get away this time?"
"Be quiet," Teresa snapped. "From now on, you don't make a sound unless I tell you to." The riding crop slapped against his bare arm, and he hissed between his teeth. Her fingers tightened on the leash in her other hand, and drew him nearer. "The safe word is 'Santiago'," she whispered, before hotly pressing her lips to his.
"What're you working on, man?" asked Rigsby. He bent down to attempt to read over Cho's shoulder, and frowned when Cho minimized the document.
"Just another of those reports for our last case," he lied smoothly. "Boss said I had to go through every one of my contacts at the County Clerk's office, and listing them all is taking longer than I originally thought."
"Ugh, exciting," Rigsby said sympathetically. "Good luck finishing that tonight."
"Thanks, I need it." Cho agreed. He waited until Rigsby wandered into the kitchen, and then began furiously typing again. He'd just been struck with inspiration for an ending to "The Borrowed Bride".
"I shouldn't really be wearing white, should I Patrick?" Teresa said, eyeing him slyly. "Not after that sordid interlude in the coatroom, surely."
"It's not a real wedding, Teresa," he answered. "It's just a ruse to flush out the killer."
"Really? Then why did you buy me this enormous engagement ring? And we won't even touch upon the silk garter," she replied, and Patrick swore he could see a blush tinting her cheeks.
He grinned. "All right, sweetheart, you caught me. Is the thought of marrying me for real such a terrible one?"
"Not at all," she breathed, pulling him closer, "But I think we should have the wedding night first. Again. Just to make sure."
"Perfect," Cho said to himself, and sighed deeply. The frustration of watching two people pine after each other had ebbed with each tap of the keys. Finally, he could get back to his real work for today.
Tomorrow? Well, he had a feeling that "License to Thrill" was in desperate need of a re-write.
THE END
There is a sequel that is equally as ridiculous, if not more so. Let me know if you'd like to read that one, too.
