AN: My entry in what Mlee is calling the "Feels Hunger Games," aka the 7x01 episode tags.
So, the actual episode - basically, I agree with Donna. Never thought I'd get to see them being so adorable and openly in love. On the other hand, it's weird they're not kissing. No, really, it is. I don't care if they're not openly passionate people - Jane hasn't been in a relationship since his wife died, and it's bizarre that he's not pulling Lisbon into closets or ravishing her on that porch.
BUT. That being said - I did (mostly) love the episode, and I'm unbelievably excited for the rest of the season!
Plans and Promises
He managed to keep from completely falling apart until they were back at her house. Throughout the afternoon, he'd worn a smile, happy that Lisbon was happy, enjoying driving the Cadillac at fast speeds through the streets of Austin and the highways beyond.
In the back of his mind, however, he was thinking.
What did he have to offer her?
But then she would lean across the car and kiss him while they waited at a light, or link their fingers together on the gear shifter, and he would simply be grateful that she chose him.
After dropping the car off at the dealership and picking up their own vehicles from the FBI, they met at her house. He hit all green lights on his way; Lisbon, a few cars back, hit most of the red ones. Consequently, he was waiting for her on the front porch, legs stretched in front of him, his relaxed posture hiding the turmoil he felt.
"I really do need to give you a key," she noted, walking up to him. Then her face changed, a shadow of regret crossing over it. He felt fear creep down his spine.
So he simply smiled, trying to hide everything again. When he felt his mask slip back in place, he hated it. Hated how easy it was. Hated how wrong it now felt.
Lisbon preceded him inside, flipping on lights as she went, tossing keys and bags on her small kitchen table. Then she stretched, stepping out of her shoes. "I think I'm going to grab a shower," she said. "I feel a little...windblown after this afternoon."
"Sounds good," he told her, closing his eyes as she stretched up to plant a kiss on his jaw, his hands cupping her elbows, steadying her. He breathed in the scent of her perfume. "I'll start dinner. How's spaghetti sound?"
"Amazing," she called back over her shoulder as she crossed the floor to her room.
When she was out of sight, he took a deep breath before starting to rummage through cupboards. They had gone after groceries earlier in the week, but he wasn't sure where she'd put everything.
He heard the shower turn on as he stood at the stove, and he imagined her under the spray. Of course, perhaps he wasn't so much imaging what she looked like as remembering.
Then he remembered something else.
What are you offering her that's not Patrick Jane?
He had no idea.
And that bothered him, greatly.
Was he really so egotistical that he thought that was all she would need? In all honestly, he was about the farthest thing from a catch as he could be. He lived in a trailer, had worn the same pair of shoes for approaching twenty years, lied compulsively, and still wore his wedding ring from a marriage that had ended thirteen years ago. And those were just the current things in his life. His past was even worse.
He was not a good man.
Pike was. He was honest and open and didn't have a deceptive bone in his body. A little pushy, maybe, when it came to her future, but Jane could forgive him for that. He had wanted Lisbon in his life, at his side, and it was difficult to hold that against him.
That was something else to think about - she had almost taken the life Pike had offered. Which meant that she did want at least some of what Pike had.
A home, a life, a family if she wanted one.
Stubbornly, he set his jaw. He could give her those things, too.
A home. He looked around her kitchen, still populated by a few moving boxes. She had a home. He vowed to finish unpacking immediately, and then this place would look permanent again. And he would have a key to it.
A life. She loved the FBI, loved what she did. With a flicker of pride, he noted that he was the one that had given that to her, had pulled her out of rural Washington and brought her here. Mentally, he gave himself a point.
A family. This was more difficult. Two people could be a family, that he understood. But he also knew that that wasn't what Pike was referring to. For just a moment, he could picture it. The living room cluttered with toys and sippy cups. Lisbon rocking a chubby toddler to sleep. And where was he in that? Probably triple-checking the locks. Then the picture changed, and he was looking at a dark hallway and a door he didn't want to open.
His hands were gripping the countertop so tightly his knuckles were white.
Was he fundamentally so screwed up that he would be incapable of giving Lisbon these things she wanted?
He didn't have a plan. He always had a plan. He hadn't thought about their future, not really. First, he had been so wrapped up in making sure she stayed, doing whatever was necessary to keep her. Then he had been utterly engrossed in the beginnings of their relationship, consumed by how it felt to touch and be touched. Since then, he had taken it day by day. The closest he'd gotten to thinking about the future was wondering what to make for breakfast the next morning.
He hadn't made long-term plans in a lifetime.
Perhaps it was time.
So, what did he want?
Lisbon.
A home.
She was offering him both of those things.
And he...all he had managed to come up with was I think we know what feels right. No promises, no assurances that he was intending to be with her for as long as she'd allow it.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She had been unerringly patient and gentle with him, very much aware of his tentative emotional state and how many huge (to him) steps he was making. She was willing to slow down, to hold him as long as he needed to be held, to pretend she hadn't felt his tears on her neck the first time they'd made love.
"Jane?" came her quiet voice, concern heavy in her tone.
He looked up suddenly. He hadn't even heard her get out of the shower, so wrapped up in his battered mind that it dulled the rest of his senses.
She frowned as she looked at him, walking forward until she was close enough to touch. Her fingers skimmed down his face, and he had no idea what she was reading in his expression.
Carefully, she put her arms around him, and he sighed deeply as he put his forehead on her shoulder.
He needed this, had needed this for hours, ever since he'd been forced to admit how utterly inadequate he was in front of Pike.
"I love you," he breathed, hoping she couldn't feel how shaky he was.
"I love you more," she murmured back, embrace tightening.
Her words made him feel worse and he closed his eyes.
"Stop it," she whispered. "Whatever he said, it doesn't matter. I don't care if you have a plan." She wanted to mean that, he could tell. But he also knew she didn't quite.
"You do," he said softly. "Remember, you can't lie to me."
Lisbon sighed, and her fingers stilled from where they had been toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fine. I admit, I'm...disappointed you haven't thought about, uh, our future, I guess. Then again, it's not like we've been together for a long time, or-"
He cut her off. "Teresa." He lifted his head, tipped her chin up so she would meet his eyes. "I think my plan has always just been to love you." He paused, giving his words a moment to sink in. He was making most of this up as he went, but it felt right, and he was going with it. "I plan to love you for the rest of my life. And during that period of time, I plan on doing whatever I can to make you happy, because I'm inherently selfish and have this idea that if I make you happy, you'll stay with me."
Her eyes were bright.
"I don't...I don't have a timeline I'm following. I'm not saying that I want to be married in a year or five or that we'll have three kids and a dog." His voice broke a little when he said kids, some of his terror scratching its way to the surface, and he saw disappointment in her eyes. "I'm not saying I don't want those things, either, because..." Hope welled up in her face, overriding his fear. "Because I do." And he did, now. "But you and I both know that I'm a wreck and right now, I don't have all of that to offer you. All I have is me."
It's not much. And I don't know if it's enough. And I'm sorry that it has to be. And I'm scared to death that I'll lose you because of it.
"You aren't going to lose me," she whispered, kissing his cheek. With horror, he realized he'd said all of it out loud. "Jane...Patrick." She frowned at him again, but she looked thoughtful this time. "I've known you for twelve years. I've seen you at some pretty low points. I've seen you lock yourself in an attic and sleep on a plywood bed. You think I don't know how momentous this is for you, being with me?"
Belatedly, he realized he was trembling.
"This is pretty big for me, too," she said. "I've never been with someone I've secretly been in love with for a decade. Someone who literally notices everything. Do you know how careful I am when I shave my legs these days?" she teased, and he felt the corner of his mouth tug up unexpectedly. "We don't need to talk about things like marriage or babies. But," she went on, almost shyly, not meeting his eyes, "I'm glad to know that those aren't off the table."
He sucked in a deep breath, emotion coursing through him as he understood that with that that sentence, having a baby with her was inevitable. Before he knew he was doing it, he had touched the tips of his fingers to her lower abdomen. As soon as his brain caught up, he moved his hand to her waist, hoping she hadn't seen, hadn't noticed what the gesture meant.
But her watery smile told him otherwise.
He kissed her, something else that was inevitable. He tasted tears. That was all right; he was pretty sure they were happy tears.
When they broke apart, she snuggled into his arms before she spoke again. "For now, Patrick, all I want is you, is this. I know we're finding our way still, and it can be a little awkward, but please don't think this isn't enough for me. Because it is - more than enough. Do you have any idea how happy it makes me when I wake up and you're next to me?"
"Some," he teased, because he was quite certain he felt the same way. "Actually, when I wake I'm usually just cold since someone always seems to steal all the blankets."
He could feel her smile against the fabric of his shirt. "That's just a ploy to make sure you have to sleep closer to me to stay warm."
His eyes were damp again. "Can I have a key?"
Her smile was like the sunrise. "Absolutely."
Later, standing in her kitchen again, stirring spaghetti noodles, he glanced at his keyring where it lay on the counter, its new addition seeming to stand out. He knew it was just his imagination, but it made him happy.
No, he didn't live here yet, but he was at least welcome to be here whenever he wanted.
Something was missing though...he wanted some permanent reminder of his presence. On a whim, he scribbled a note and stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet shaped like Washington.
Patrick Jane was here.
Better.
The next time he saw it was the next morning as he blearily put the kettle on and started coffee. Getting back to work was an adjustment. He'd spent two weeks sleeping as long as he wanted. Which, after thirteen years of insomnia, was a very long time.
In fact, he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, back to where Lisbon's warm body had been wrapped around his, her bare skin like silk where it touched him.
Then he saw the note.
Lisbon had altered it.
It now read Patrick Jane is here.
Damn right he was.
And he would continue to be here.
As a matter of fact, he planned on it.
AN: I reserve the right to add a part 2.