Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist, it belongs to Bruno Heller (he who had better give me what I want tomorrow night or else I won't be responsible for my actions).
Author's Note: This is just a little interlude between Lisbon and Jane. Pure fluffy, sweet syrupy goodness.
Jane isn't known for being subtle.
His very appearance was loud, from the tips of his blond, curly hair, to the toes of his well-worn shoes.
Lisbon often wondered how he managed to get anything in the way of investigation done when he sometimes managed to blind his marks with his sunny smiles and golden hair.
Although, Jane often remarked that the best way to pull off a trick was to have an assistant distract the audience while the magician fooled around. Maybe Jane was his own assistant: confuse the target with charm, handsome features, great hair (okay, really great hair), then wham! Take 'em for all they've got!
To be fair, Jane couldn't help how he looked (aside from his clothing choices, but all those buttons were rather…distracting), and he was a damn good investigator. He closed cases the way Rigsby snaffled down food: with speed, and without prejudice.
But, he wasn't subtle.
This fact made his current behavior stand out like a red flag on a snowy hill.
Jane was sending…glances her way.
Moreover, they weren't just normal glances. He was being coy.
She was sitting in her office, the blind were open, and she was trying to get as much paperwork done as she could before calling it a night. Her team was helping in this endeavor by being elsewhere, except for Jane.
Jane was sitting on his couch, sipping yet another cup of tea, and casting coy glances at her whenever she looked up. He would wait till she took a break to roll her shoulders, arch her back, and stretch her neck. Then he would catch her eye, lower his lashes, and look away. If that wasn't the very definition of 'coy,' then she didn't know what was.
Still, she had no intention of leaving her paperwork and marching out there to demand of him just what the hell he thought he was doing.
She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He could wait on her for once.
If he was so desperate for attention, he could come into her office and invade her space like he always.
"Ugh," she was feeling stiff again; time to stretch. Time for another glance. Time for that funny, butterfly feeling in her stomach again when her eyes met his and saw their softness and warmth. She let out a sigh as she felt a vertebra in her back pop. Now for the neck roll.
But as her head came back up, Jane was missing from the couch.
Apparently, he'd tired of his little game.
It's unreasonable to feel disappointed, she told herself sternly, you'll get more done if Jane isn't out there distracting you.
Busy nodding her head in agreement with her internal monologue, she didn't notice a change in the air behind her, so she was understandably startled by the hands she suddenly felt on her shoulders.
Lisbon let out a little shriek, and tried to turn around. Jane (who else would it be; honestly, the man was trying to give her a premature heart attack) stopped her before she could.
"You're too tense, Lisbon. If you're ever going to get this tas de merde off your desk, you're going to need to relax."
"Yeah, Jane, and you're really helping me out by scaring me half to death. If you want to make yourself useful while you're back there, go ahead and rub my shoulders. I've had a knot back there for days that you put there on our last case."
She felt a shudder run through her body as his hands gripped her shoulders and dug in, his strong fingers working out all the tension that had been gathering in her body for the last several days.
She let her head loll back as he found a particularly tender spot. She must have also made some kind of whimper because she felt his touch become more soothing, less firm.
"Shh, Lisbon; I've got you. Take a break, dear, you've more than earned one today."
Lisbon nodded her head absently, but her body tensed back up a little at the thought of how much she had left to do, and Jane (damn the man) stopped the glorious movement of his fingers and hands.
"Jaaane," she all but moaned; dammit, she had been so close to falling asleep!
"Hush, you; I'm just moving you to a more comfortable location."
With that, he pulled her pliant body up and out of her chair, and led her over to her couch. Lisbon's body was practically screaming out for the soft cushions to be beneath her instead of her serviceable desk chair.
Jane eased her down onto the middle cushion before taking the one on her left; he turned he body to right, which almost sent her sprawling into his lap.
His hands pulled her to him instead of pushing her up and away. She tried to protest, "Jane, what on earth are you doing."
"Just be quiet and sit still, Lisbon. Just breathe with me for a few minutes. In and out, breathe with me. In and out."
Jane leaned back into the sofa, letting her head slip from his shoulder down to his chest. He began running his fingers through her hair. Jesus, that was better
She could hear and feel his heart beating beneath her head. The steady rhythm was comforting, and she found her breaths changing to match his even tempo.
Lisbon felt her eyelids growing heavy with the thought of a brief nap, but she wanted to know what he had been doing earlier.
"Jane, what was with all those coy looks you were sending me earlier?"
She could feel a little shiver run through his body before he let out a little huff of breath instead of the full-body laugh that she knew Jane wanted to indulge in.
"Coy looks, Lisbon? Somebody's been delving into Cho's Austen stash."
Lisbon thumped him lightly on his arm, "That's what they were, Jane, and you know it. There's no point in arguing what we both know is true. I'm about to fall asleep here, so just tell me what you were doing."
She could hear the smile in his voice, "Well, my dear, if you must know, I was sending those coy looks your way so that you would be enticed to come out of your paperwork haze and join me on my couch where I would provide you with some much needed relief. However, you were determined to wait me out; therefore, a change in venue was needed." He stopped briefly to assume the air of a man whose plans had been ruined, "You really should appreciate the sacrifices I make for you, Lisbon. My couch is infinitely more comfortable."
Lisbon smiled into his chest, knowing his words for what they were, "And you should appreciate the fact that you're not sporting a shiner right now, Jane. I've crippled men for less."
The hand petting her hair stopped for a moment before continuing. "I'm well aware of that, Lisbon, and I'll let you take a swing at me later. But, right now, I just want you to lay here and breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?"
She gave a little nod of assent, but before she could fully drift off, she was taken by an irrational and panicked thought. She gripped his vest and shirt tightly in her hand and looked up at him through sleepy eyes, "You'll still be here when I wake up, right?"
"Of course, Lisbon; I'm not going anywhere," Jane assured her, but he could still see a little bit of doubt in her eyes.
He leaned down a little and brushed a kiss across her forehead before moving down to whisper in her ear, "Sleep, Teresa. I'll still be here when you wake."
Jane dropped another kiss onto her hair and listened for her breathing to even out.
Later, when she woke up, he was still there.
Tas de merde: Google Translate tells me that this means 'pile of shit,' so I will have to take it at its word.
I think that Jane is too much a gentleman to swear in front of Lisbon sometimes, so he swears in French.