Author's Note: Here it is, my very first official Mentalist fic. Submitting this is both exhilarating and terrifying, but it's something I've wanted to do for a while. Please give it a shot and let me know what you think. I am always open to constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would be hiring more talented fic writers than I to be doing things we would all voyeuristically enjoy.

Patrick Jane was going on a date. A real, honest to goodness, flower buying, expensive dining, tie wearing date.

And the very thought of it made Teresa Lisbon slightly nauseous.

Jane had met his future dinner companion on their most recent case. They were investigating an interstate drug ring with connections in the Austin area, and were interviewing one of their informants at an upscale downtown resort. Just before Lisbon had finished with her questions, she had walked up to their table.

The change in Jane's posture was what had alerted Lisbon to her approach. She followed his line of vision to the tall, blonde figure in white whose ample assets were making all of the males in the vicinity go on high alert. Jane was not immune, and she had noticed him slightly clear his throat before he plastered on his most devastating smile.

The blonde was not immune either, it seemed. Lisbon had seen her steps falter slightly as her eyes landed on Jane. On a regular day, Jane was enough to make any breathing female look twice, but when he turned on that smile, it was a whole different ball game.

The woman had introduced herself as Krystal. Her voice was soft, breathy, and Lisbon hated her immediately. Krystal (With a "K," Lisbon thought disgustedly. She'd only ever met strippers and junkies who spelled Krystal with a "K".) was staying at the resort and had just happened to be passing through the restaurant when she spotted Jane. It wasn't until Lisbon had flashed her badge that she got the hint to let them get back to their interview. As she sauntered away, hips swaying slightly, Jane had quietly excused himself and hurried after her.

Lisbon ended the interview fairly quickly and tried not to stare incredulously as Jane had pulled out his phone to get Krystal's number. Her jaw clenched in irritation as Krystal threw back her head and laughed at something Jane said, her fingers reaching out to lightly play with his sleeve.

When he all but skipped back to her, a dreamy grin lingering on his face, it took everything she had to not un-holster her gun and start firing like a lunatic.

She hadn't even waited for him to make it back to her side before she turned and strode out of the restaurant. If he had noticed the change in her demeanor, he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything when she'd sat in the car and shut her door more forcibly than necessary. He didn't say anything when she jammed the key into the ignition and forced the SUV to life. And he didn't say anything when her usually smooth driving was punctuated with sharp turns, aggressive braking, and a stream of muttered obscenities.

It wasn't until they'd hit a slight traffic jam on the I-35 that she'd been brave enough to glance over at him. He'd been sitting there calm as could be, a small smile still on his lips and a far away look in his eye.

Her knuckles had whitened on the steering wheel, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out of her mouth.

"Hot date tonight?"

Whoa. Did she really sound that bitter and angry? Thankfully, he didn't seem to have heard her, so she'd forced herself to take a deep breath and try again.

"Jane?" There, that was better. Much more in control. However, he still didn't respond.

"Jane." This time, she'd made a breakthrough. He'd blinked a couple of times before he turned his head towards her.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

"I asked you if you had a hot date tonight."

One golden eyebrow had arched amusedly at her, as if he found the question absurd.

"Did you see her?"

"Of course I saw her!"

"Then you should know the answer to that question."

Lisbon hadn't said anything more after that. Neither had Jane. He was apparently content to stare off into space with that same small smile on his lips.

She'd wanted to punch him in the mouth.

She still did, and they'd returned to HQ three hours ago. Now, as she sat at her desk in the bullpen, she wished fervently for her old CBI office. There, she could have pulled the blinds shut, closed the door, and sorted all of this out.

Here, she was out in the open, exposed. Expected to maintain an aura of professional decorum when all she wanted to do was scream. Or cry. Or just sit with her head on her desk until she felt like she could confront the world with her game face on.

That game face, however, was getting harder and harder each day to put on. Quite frankly, she was tired of wearing it. She had spent two years thinking about what her life would be like if Patrick Jane came back into it. Sitting in a bullpen in Texas while the suppressed romantic in her threw an internal tantrum was not even close to one of the many fantasies she had allowed herself during his absence.

A throat clearing snapped her out of her thoughts. She hadn't even detected someone approaching her desk. She really needed to get a hold of herself.

The object of her most recent ruminations stood just to her right. He had a shirt in each hand and a frustrated look on his face.

"I can't decide which one of these to wear. I need a woman's opinion." He shook the shirts for emphasis.

"Jane, I'm busy. Why don't you go ask Fischer? Or Arlene over in accounting?"

Jane rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff. "Please, Lisbon? If I'd wanted their input, I wouldn't be here asking you."

She looked up into his face and was about to snap out a reply when the look in his eyes stopped her. He projected an air of confidence, but his eyes were uncertain, hesitant. Instantly, she was ashamed of herself. She was his friend, after all, and she should be happy that he was finally moving on. Isn't this what she'd always hoped for him? It wasn't his fault that she couldn't control her emotional state.

With a small sigh, she took a closer look at the shirts. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Jane, these look exactly the same."

"Why would I ask you to choose between two identical shirts, Lisbon? This one is white with gray swirls and this one has light blue."

"Did your island tailor only have one kind of pattern or what?"

"He liked what he liked. And if you didn't want to walk around naked, you liked what he liked. Anyway, you're stalling."

"Go with the blue. Sounds cliché, but it highlights your eyes."

He gave her a huge smile, threw out a quick "thank you" and hurried towards the restroom.

Her returning smile had started to fade as soon as he turned his back to her, and it was completely gone by the time Abbott's approaching figure reached her desk.

"Lisbon, we're up. Got a call from Austin PD about a shipment coming into a network of private docks on the Colorado. We're going to rendezvous with locals in 40 minutes. Cho and Fischer will meet us there. Jane's presence is not strictly necessary, but an extra pair of eyes might be beneficial. Be at the garage in five."

With a sigh, Lisbon stood and made her way to the men's restroom. She knocked on the door and cautiously opened it a crack. "Jane, you in there?"

"As far as I know. You, however, are a little out of place here. What's so urgent that you risk exposure to your coworker's…appendages?"

"Can you just come over to the door so I can talk to you without having to come in there?"

She heard his footsteps and suddenly, he was in front of her, a bemused expression on his face. Her breath caught a little in her throat. She was right—the shirt really did bring out his eyes. Eyes that were now looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite identify.

"We've got a pretty big potential bust about to go down. Abbott says your insights might be beneficial if you want to tag along. I know you have plans, but I thought maybe you'd want to be there. Besides," she added with a smirk, "God only knows who they'll partner me with if you're not around."

He allowed her a small smile before gently shaking his head. "Lisbon, this is my first chance at normalcy since I've been back. My only plans for tonight are to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman over a hopefully decent meal. I'm not going to pass that up to go sit in a dark van by some dark warehouse in a seedy neighborhood. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, he retreated back into the restroom, the door closing gently in her face.

She turned and headed for the stairwell. It had been a long shot, she knew, but why did she still feel disappointed? He had decided to go on his date, and she couldn't really blame him. Her annoyingly persistent suppressed romantic decided, at that moment, to get in on the game.

You're upset because, subconsciously, you asked him to make a choice. He didn't choose you, and you're mad because you knew that what you were offering wasn't comparable to what he'd be giving up, but you held out the irrational hope that he would still choose you anyway.

"Shut the hell up," she muttered to herself as she pushed open the door. If she couldn't get Jane and his date out of her head, this was going to be a long, torturous night.

Next up, Jane's date. I'm not exactly sure about his POV, but I'll give it a shot. How have I done so far? I would really love to hear from you.