Another attempt of humour. The story behind the story? A direct challenge from Chizuru-Chibi xP.

Nothing much to say…I'll just let you discover what Jane's pride makes him do when he feels insulted. And I never stepped in a health centre so if anyone had been there and see drastic mistakes, I apologize…

Disclaimer: I do not own Mentalist, just my crazy mind. My English grammar isn't the best, hope you'll enjoy it anyway –won't blame you if you don't :D

Off to the Gym

Jane couldn't believe what he was doing. He was actually parked in front of a huge building on which was written in plain, flashy yellow colours two words he never thought he'd see from his own will again–or a few years prior, under the threat of his wife. Health Centre. The leaflet he held was a perfect description of all the activities that were possible to apply to –gym, yoga, weights, running, boxing, bathing…everything good for reinforcing the body and such. He sighed and closed his eyes, remembering how he ended here.

Flashback

Patrick Jane was, once again, sleeping on the couch. Or pretending to sleep. In reality, he was trying not to show his deep embarrassment about an incident that occurred earlier that day. A suspect was running away from the team, and he couldn't move fast enough to catch him. Had it been the usual, tall, well-trained man, he would have brushed the feeling. But this time, it was a frail sixteen years old girl in high-heels. And the astonished gazes of Cho and Rigsby could hardly leave his mind.

He suddenly felt Lisbon walking at irritated pace. He heard her turn and head towards him. No need to open his eyes to know she was standing above his 'sleeping' figure.

"Do you do any exercise?" when he didn't answer, she took it for a 'no' and muttered. "No wonder why you're so slow."

"Meh" he brushed her reproach. "The running and stuff isn't of my resort. That's your job."

He felt her glare immediately.

"Yeah, our job. Maybe it's our job to run after criminals, but for you own heath you should do a little bit of sport. In case you haven't noticed, you're growing fat."

Fat.

She had to say it. The word he could not bear. The ultimate insult. He ticked this time and opened his eyes to glare at her, but didn't come up with a retort. Survival instincts told him that if he teased on the size of her hips, he wouldn't live to tell the tale. Not that she had big hips anyway; it was just common knowledge that most women were sensible about that detail, including the black-haired agent. And it was common knowledge that Lisbon just wished to shoot him anytime.

He couldn't let her know how much the word had bothered him, and in no way he'd confess the first thing he did when he went back home was to weight himself. Sadly, the scales verdict was sharp: he had gained a few pounds and his body would welcome a little exercise.

End Flashback

So here he was, in front of that dreadful edifice in which he was sure to suffer for a long time. Summing up his courage, Jane breathed deeply and headed towards the white, green and blue entrance. As soon as he crossed the doorframe, he was greeted with posters of people in gym outfit with great smile, concentrated eyes and well-kept bodies lifting weights or biking or doing whatever sport available in the building.

The receptionist welcomed him with a smile, took down his name and asked if he was up to anything.

"Uh I have to confess it's the first time I ever come here."

The girl nodded understandingly. Apparently, he wasn't the only one wanting to get back in shape.

"Shall I ask for a manager to follow you in the first time?" she asked kindly. Jane shook his head. He made sure to find an isolated place; it wasn't to get humiliated in front of a people he knew, even less a manager.

"Nah, I'll do on my own" he replied, grinning again.

She indicated the changing room and gave him a key for a locker. Jane didn't waste time and went to put on sports clothes he bought the previous day. Once he was psychologically prepared, he crossed the changing-room and pushed the door leading to his personal hell.

-OTTG-

Inside the exercise room, he felt completely out-of-place. There was a great mixture of people of course –enormous guys and plump women trying to loose some weight, younger and slimmer ones wanting to stay in shape, a group of teens trying to show off, an athletic one was pedalling while panting like an annoyed buffalo…Jane swallowed hard.

What was he doing here already? His damn pride and self consciousness towards Lisbon's words wouldn't give him peace.

He laughed nervously to himself, earning a quizzical brow from a nearby lady, and headed towards the weights machines.

Maybe the cliché exercise was the best to start with?

He put on thirty pounds, settled on the board, grabbed the iron bar determinedly and tried to lift.

He grimaced.

Holding the bar with his arms stretched ahead was okay. Pushing it up and down was another story. He slowly lowered the bar and held his breath while lifting it. The already heavy object seemed to double it's weight in seconds. His face reddened at the unusual effort and after three unsuccessful attempts, he put them back on place with slight difficulty. He still managed alone, not wanting the girl of the staff, who eyed him since his arrival, to pity him and help him with the bar. He was a man, for God's sake! (Not that he believed in God anymore, but hey…)

Those things were so evil.

He switched exercise and monopolized the closest treadmill. At first, he couldn't make the plastic carpet work, and when he accidently pushed the button 'start' to make it roll, he nearly found himself on the ground, balance lost being caught off guard by the unexpected moving of the rug. A few companions running next to his machine offered a sorry smile or amused smirk. They all went through the awkward passage of making the thing function correctly.

At first, Jane managed to keep a slow path. For five minutes, his concentration didn't falter and he felt he could hold for a while. Alas, another five minutes later, he decided that if he didn't want a heart attack, he should stop.

He left the treadmill, went to the fountain to drink a bit of water and leant against the wall to catch his breath. So far, so good. He hadn't done much, yet he was already exhausted. Jane groaned, knowing how right his colleagues were to make fun of him. Endurance or speed was absolutely not his forte.

He took a few minutes to catch his breath, then he decided it was too early to leave. After a quick glance around, he jumped on a bicycle. This should be okay, he thought. The exercise was just a repetitive motion of the legs and feet, and he could rest his upper body in the meantime.

And once again, his body disagreed with the words 'okay and resting' ten minutes later. His throbbing legs were begging him to stop. Deciding he should leave before his muscles failed him for good, he stepped off the bike and walked awkwardly to a bench to sit down a few minutes

How long have he been here? he wondered suddenly, glancing at the clock. Four pm. A little more than half an hour. He sighed deeply, wondering how could time move on so slowly when he was under such self-inflicted torture.

A man in his early forties sat next to him, sweating too. Only difference, he didn't look as exhausted as Jane was.

"You should go to the punching bag. It really helps if you're in bad mood" the stranger said energetically after a few minutes.

"You need a punching buddy to hold the bag so you expect the tired guy willing to stand up and hold it for you?" Jane asked. The man frowned and, sensing he was going ahead of troubles, Jane shrugged. "Just saying."

He felt like adding that punching a bag wasn't going to help him recover his dignity with his wife who, despite his shrink's advice would not run back into his arms and not stop calling him a softy.

The man eventually left the bench and took off to bother another one. Jane rested five good minutes before he made up his mind on what to do next.

Boxing, he realized, was a good idea. In fact, it could be useful if a suspect tried to punch him. Maybe he'd be able to dodge the hit before it came and stop dreaming of a steel nose…

Convinced by his inner argument, he went to drink some water and headed towards the boxing part of the health centre when he felt a little better.

He went to borrow gloves, chose an unoccupied punching bag, cleared his throat and started…punching. Unfortunately, once again, his lack of exercise in the matter was another handicap. The clumsily hit of his fists against the huge bag, barely made it move. Annoyance against himself slowly raised, and he let his frustrations flood through his arms. A stronger punch made the bag move wider.

Jane grinned, content to see his effort eventually arrive somewhere. His rejoice was short though. When the bag flew back right to his face he didn't have time to dodge it.

Bang.

In fact, he didn't need to anger suspects to get punched. He shook his head in desperation, rubbing his nose. Gym was absolutely not fitting him.

"I never thought you'd take my word to that level Jane."

The man froze at the voice. He knew that so-amused tone. He knew that if he turned back, he would be facing a wide Cheshire Cat grin on the face of a familiar black-haired, petite Agent, responsible for his presence here.

-OTTG-

His deduction proved to be right. Teresa Lisbon was leaning against the wall with the widest amused grin he ever saw on her face, a cell phone in her right hand, certainly recording everything. She was dressed in sweatpants and T-shirt, and according to her general state, she had spent at least an hour or so in the centre.

Jane shifted uncomfortably on his feet, knowing that if he didn't get the upper hand soon, he was never going to live this down.

"I…I didn't know you were there" he babbled. "How long have you been watching me?"

She chuckled, amused by his uneasiness, and put her cell phone back in a small purse left on the ground.

"Since the beginning. You were very…adventurous to try the weights first. I was on the treadmill over there" she pointed one of those evil machines against the wall "the whole time."

Jane sighed. Of all places, why did the Agent decided to head here for her weekly exercise? Couldn't she go to the one in the centre of Sacramento like usual? As if reading his thoughts, her grin widened:

"The centre is closed today for repairing. But don't blame yourself, you couldn't know it. I'm glad I came today, I got to witness your brilliant attempts to improve your…non existent endurance?"

This was payback for all the times he mocked her, Jane got it. But right now, he was too tired with the recent physical activities to think of a proper smart reply, instead of making himself more of a fool. She went on one last time:

"I wonder if you're good in any sport for the matter…"

Her words triggered an immediate answer that Jane himself didn't anticipate. If someone asked later, he would say it was the fault of his tired brain and the fact Lisbon looked so damn hot covered with sweat, with clothes fitting her like a second skin, her hair in a mess and her irregular panting due to recent exercise.

Before he knew he was doing, Jane stepped closer and leant over her to whisper in her ear:

"Oh I think I do excel in bedroom activities. Want me to show you how good I am one day?"

Lisbon's jaws dropped and her cheeks flushed red. He grinned proudly at the stunned and embarrassed face and returned to the changing room; he had enough.

One thing was sure for tomorrow; he was going to suffer from arches all day long.

The "steel nose" isn't mine. I saw it on a drawing.

Thanks for reading! Care to tell me what to think of it?