Following the poker game in Dallas, the Austin FBI team had spent the remainder of the day and evening making sure that all documentation that was immediately required was taken care of. The good people of Dallas, and more important, the victim's mother, could rest tonight, knowing that a murderer was on his way to certain justice.
Lisbon had begged off driving back with the remainder of the team; she told them she wanted to change out of her undercover clothing. With a nonplussed look on his face, Jane promptly offered her the opportunity to ride shotgun in his Airstream once she was done. Lisbon tried to feign some token resistance, but in the end, agreed that she would change in the hotel lobby restroom and then go back with Jane, muttering for the benefit of the team about how she would be taking her life in her hands for the next three-and-a-half hours.
Lisbon and Jane, once the coast was clear, made their way to the Airstream. Jane had no intention of driving back that night, and neither did Lisbon. They'd go back in the morning.
But first, he planned to continue to show his appreciation for the teacup he was once again happily using.
"Cold?" he asked, placing his arm around her shoulders as they walked through the dark parking lot. "Do you want my coat?"
"A little," she shivered against him, "and no, it's OK. Not that far."
They picked up their pace.
As they reached the Airstream, Jane, his hand on her hip, motioned Lisbon to proceed in front of him as they climbed the two steps. He reached around her to unlock the door, when she unexpectedly turned to face him.
"I've got a secret," she whispered, almost shyly.
Door unlocked and barely ajar, he dropped his arm to his side.
"Oh? And what would that be?"
She leaned close to him, her breath warm against his earlobe. "I'm not wearing any..." she began.
Jane looked her over, looked at the short leather skirt she was wearing, and began to tremble. He reached around her and braced himself against the door.
"You're not wearing any...?" he parroted back at her.
She actually giggled. "...panties..." she helpfully finished the thought.
Patrick Jane swallowed, hard. His mind immediately replayed the events of the day. His Teresa walking into the bar, sitting at the bar, sitting at the table with her legs crossed...his Teresa standing watch over him during the poker game. His Lisbon, all Miss-Agent-FBI-business, after the bust...
He was speechless.
And immobile.
"You wanna check?" she asked.
He remained immobile for a beat, then reached under the scrap of leather, and when his hands met bare buttocks, pulled her hard against him. Somehow, he'd already lowered his zipper and the only thought on his mind was that he had to have her, this woman, now, on the steps of Airstream, in the humid Dallas night.
Lisbon placed a hand on his shoulder, placing some token distance between them. She gestured down at the two steps of the Airstream entrance with her other arm, and he nodded.
It would not be a good idea to be injured on those steps.
With renewed intent, he turned Lisbon back around to face the door, and practically shoved her into the Airstream, slamming the door behind them.
He prodded the small of her back, pushing her towards the new couch he'd gotten ever since Lisbon was spending more time with him. Before she could get her bearings, he folded her over the armrest of the couch, and hiked up the few inches of leather that made up the skirt. Within a second, he was embedded deep within her.
"Don't. You. Ever. Do. That. Again." He punctuated each thrust.
Later, as they cuddled on the couch after their quick tryst, Teresa laughed and said, "It s all your fault, Patrick, you know."
"How so?" Patrick idly answered while twirling a lock of her hair around a finger.
"For picking such a risque outfit. For using me as bait. Quite sexist of you, you know."
"To be fair," he murmured, "I did try other kinds of...bait first."
He released the lock of hair and began stroking her back. They lay once again in contented silence for some time.
Teresa broke the quiet. "Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Jane."
"How so?"
"That I didn't tell you at the beginning of the sting."
"Well," he laughed, "you're a consummate professional and you'd never do anything to put the team in danger."
She kissed him. "I've made it my life's mission to find ways of surprising you, Mr. Jane. But never on the job."
"Be sure to save that skirt," Patrick said.
"Oh ya?"
"I've got plans for it. I've definitely got plans for it."
They both chuckled.
Teresa began to speak, but Patrick silenced her with a kiss. "Not going to tell you right now, though. Let's get to bed. We've got a long drive tomorrow morning."