Author's Note: Post Red Sauce. I couldn't watch Rigsby get tasered and dressed up like a thug and not write about it. I own nothing but a television and a filthy imagination.

Chapter One

Excellent. Rigsby was more than pleased as he finished up the last piece of paperwork on their most recent suspect and he was feeling pretty good about it. Granted, it had involved the usual shenanigans from Jane that usually got them all an earful from Lisbon, but the cop in him was always satisfied when they got their man. Or jilted wife of a gangster-turned-snitch, as the case turned out.

He signed his name to the bottom of the report and set his pen down, flexing his hand and rubbing it lightly. He hadn't let on earlier, but Van Pelt's taser had stung pretty badly, leaving twin pinpoints of burned skin on his hand where the electricity had passed into his body. His massage didn't help either. It only angered his singed nerves and they yelled at him to stop touching them and leave them the hell alone. He sighed, dropped his hand and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He hadn't bothered to change when he got back to the office after his little hit man performance and his track suit made soft swishy noises as he moved. He lifted his head and noticed Van Pelt standing in the office doorframe, watching him with a small smile on her lips.

He smiled back as he lowered his arms. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked her.

"Just long enough for to you to nurse your hand like a kicked puppy," she answered with a smirk.

He gave her an injured pout. "Hey! It hurts okay? I'd expect a bit more sympathy from the inflictor."

She giggled and walked up to him. He noticed that her eyes moved briefly over his body, as though noting how these different clothes accented his muscles more than his suits did. He also noticed (as he'd been doing all day) that she looked damned hot in her tan skirt and tight tee shirt under her jacket. But he kept that observation to his peripherals and didn't let his eyes move past hers.

She leaned on his desk next to him and bumped his arm playfully with hers. "I told you I was sorry. And you said you were fine," she gave him a mock serious look as she peeked up into his eyes. He bumped her back gently. "Yeah, well. Two thousand volts still smarts, lady." He held up his hand and showed her the tiny burn marks.

Her smile retreated a bit when she saw the marks. She took his hand in both of hers and inspected it more closely. When she looked back up at him, her expression was more contrite. "I'm sorry, Wayne. I really didn't mean to."

He smiled. How could he not? She was holding his hand and apologizing to him for doing her job. She'd have to commit a far worse offense for him to ever be angry with her. Like destroy a small country. "I'm fine, Grace. I've had much worse."

She smiled gratefully at him and, to his shock, she brought the back of his hand to her lips and kissed it. His injury, which normally would have shrieked at any pressure, seemed to magically heal under her kiss. Her lips were so soft and warm that his imagination instantly extrapolated what it would feel like if they kissed him everywhere. Everywhere. She kept it light and chaste, and Rigsby died a little when she pulled his hand away and looked at him expectantly. "All better?" she asked him. He felt like a small child getting his boo-boo kissed by a smokin' hot nurse. He nodded mutely.

She smiled again. "Good. Come on, get your stuff. I'm taking you out for a beer. It's the least I can do since I maimed you."

The hot, tingling sensation where her lips had touched him was slowly moving into his fingers and wrist. It didn't hurt, but it was a hell of a lot stronger than the shock he'd gotten earlier. He cleared his throat. The gentleman in him wanted to decline her offer, insisting that she didn't need to buy him a drink for a tiny little sting, but Grace had never asked him out before, and even if it was just atonement, he wasn't an idiot. He looked down at his clothes. "Sounds good. But I need to change first."

Another shock, Grace shook her head. "Don't. I kinda like this thug look on you," her eyes dropped momentarily. Was she embarrassed? She brought her eyes back to his. "We'll just go to a dive."

Grace had no idea what possessed her to ask Rigsby out. She'd come back from the kitchen and couldn't help but watch as he smiled to himself while finishing the case file. Then she saw him tend the hand she had tasered and her heart melted a little. She knew it must have hurt when she zapped him accidentally, but he'd brushed off her concerns and went about the day with no complaints. She should have known better. He might be a sweetheart, but he was also a macho man who didn't whine when wounded. She wanted to make it up to him, hence the offer of free booze. But what had possessed her to kiss him? She could only plead insanity. She just felt so bad when she saw those marks, like a miniature vampire had bitten him. And she'd had her share of little electric shocks when messing around with her fuse box, so she could only imagine what a stun gun must feel like. Her compassion kicked in and she did what most women do when faced with a man or a child with a minor injury. Kiss and make better. She didn't think about it, she just administered the treatment. Only now, as she picked up her purse and waiting for Rigsby to shut down his computer, did she allow herself to think about how thick and muscular his large hand had been in her two smaller ones. She conjured up the details of his skin and its rougher texture under her smooth fingers. She'd seen slight scarring along his knuckle bridge from years of hitting a punching bag without gloves. And, as she pressed her lips on his hand, she could feel him next to her, that looming frame of his that created a wall of warmth and patience that few men of his size ever bother to develop. So, yeah. She kissed him and asked him out. Those things, coupled with his doped-up declaration of love and hypnotized kiss, were really the proverbial straw.

She was still in those thoughts when Rigsby came up behind her. "Ready?" he asked. She started a bit, then smiled. "Absolutely."

They found just the kind of dive they were looking for off the highway, away from the Friday night crowds. Soon they were squeezed next to each other in a back booth and ordering the most unpretentious longnecks in stock. Both of them were surprised at how easy it was. After so many months of agonizing sexual tension between them, all it took was an 'I'm sorry' beer to clear both of their anxieties. This wasn't clearly labeled as a 'date', so they could both relax in each other's presence and only think of it as a date in their minds. They spent the next three hours talking, laughing, drinking, in a way that they'd never been able to with their other colleagues present. The room was dark and hot, and pretty soon both of them were sitting in their tee shirts, their jackets being too warm. As the waitress brought the next round, Grace was tipsy and giggling.

"I can't believe you let Jane talk you into this," she gestured to his track suit. "It really does make you look like mafia muscle."

Rigsby chuckled. "Me? What about that jailbait red dress you wore for that restaurant sting? I feel bad for the boyfriend you originally bought it for. It must have driven him crazy to see you it." He hadn't meant to say that, exactly, but the beer was loosening his tongue.

Grace grabbed her fresh beer and starting peeling the label, a habit she'd had ever since she turned 21. "I bought it for you," she said without looking up.

Rigsby's head shot up and he stared at her. "What?"

She looked up at him innocently. "For the sting. You played my boyfriend. I didn't have a red dress, so I went out and bought one. I wanted something that grabbed the killer's attention." She continued to torture her label. "Too bad it didn't work."

"I beg to differ." Dammit. Stuff kept coming out of his mouth that wasn't supposed to.

Label peeling paused. She looked up again. "Why do you beg to differ? The killer didn't go for me. But…" She lowered her chin and looked at him through her lashes. "Did it drive my 'boyfriend' crazy that day?"

He took a deep breath. "You drive him crazy everyday."

Grace's cheeks turned deep pink as she riveted her gaze on her bottle. She couldn't be sure, but she was fairly certain that the beer coursing through her veins allowed a smile to bloom that never would have made it passed her mental security checks ordinarily.

She ventured a look up at him. He was finishing off the last of his beer, tilting the bottle upwards and exposing his throat to her gaze. She suddenly ached to reach over and run her fingers down the column of his neck, to feel the prickliness of his stubble and the jump of his pulse at the base. He brought his head back down and placed the dead soldier by his many other fallen comrades on the table. Only then did he brave a glance her way. They stared at each other for what felt like hours.

Grace broke the silence. "It's late. We should probably get going."

Rigsby looked down at the table and nodded his head. He'd ruined it. Goddammit. He'd taken a perfectly nice evening alone with Grace and destroyed it by making an inappropriate comment. He cursed himself quietly as he grabbed his jacket and quickly stood up. "You're right. We should go."

He dropped a fifty on the table and turned towards the door, almost racing out.

"Wayne! Wait up," Grace grabbed her jacket and purse and ran after him. She caught up with him next to their SUV in the parking lot. "What are you doing, Wayne? Neither of us can drive. We need to call a cab. And why did you run out back there?"

He paced by the side of the SUV until she stood in his path and put her hands on his bare arms, stopping him. "Hey, what's going on? What happened to me buying you a drink? Why are you so upset all of a sudden?" She dipped her head and put herself in his line of sight.

He still refused to look at her as one of his fists smacked the car door lightly. "I'm sorry, Grace." He dragged his other hand through his hair and tilted his head towards the stars. At least up there Grace couldn't look into his eyes.

But he didn't count on her sliding her hands up his arms to his cheeks and gently tugging his face back down again. She saw embarrassment and sadness in those big blue eyes and she knew instantly what he was feeling and why. She decided to skip the innocent act of asking him any more questions and decided to act.

She took his injured hand and held it up in the darkened parking lot light. "Does it still sting?" she asked quietly.

"A little," he mumbled, still tense.

She smiled reassuringly at him before she brought his hand to her lips again and kissed the burn marks lightly. Unlike before, she kept kissing them, slowly moving her mouth over his hand, his scarred knuckles, the base of his fingers. She heard him inhale sharply.

"What are you doing, Grace?" he whispered.

She moved her kiss to the inside of his wrist where she nipped his skin ever so lightly. He gasped. "I'm making you feel better," she whispered back. And with the she took his jacket from his other hand and threw it along with her stuff onto the hood before stepping into his space and moving her kiss up his forearm. She could feel him vibrating with pent-up energy as her lips explored the grooves of his hard flesh. She came to the crook in his elbow and she couldn't help darting her tongue out and swirling it in the hollow of the joint. Rigsby hissed and rocked backwards, falling against the car door and taking Grace with him. She gasped as she was dragged against his chest and felt his arms instinctively grab her to keep her from pitching over.

Her hands gripped his tee shirt.

Her breasts pressed against his chest.

His arms were crossed at her waist and grazed the top of her ass.

And this was enough to push them over.

Rigsby lowered his head and caught her lips in a mind-blowing kiss. Grace eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck for leverage and pushed herself against him hungrily, opening her mouth to his demanding tongue and moaning lustfully. His hands slid up her sides several times before pulling her tee shirt out of her skirt and gliding up the smooth lines of her ribcage. She nodded against his kiss in encouragement, yanking his tee shirt from his own waistband and dragging her fingers over the chiseled texture of his abdomen and sides. They attacked each other in earnest until Rigsby jerked his head to one side and groaned loudly. Losing his lips, Grace moved her kiss to his jaw. His body thrummed with intent while his brain fought a losing battle to stop this drunken groping of his co-worker outside of a bar. This was Grace. She deserved roses and candles and wine and all that romantic stuff they show in movies. She deserved to be treated like a princess, not a $10 trick with broken bottles and tire tread at her feet. He forced his voice out.

"Grace?"

Kisses along his throat.

"Hmmmm?"

Her tongue on his pulse point. Jesus.

"We're drunk."

Her hands sliding under his tee shirt and up his back.

"Tipsy," she murmured into his throat.

"In a parking lot."

Her nails tracing over his ribs. God help me, he thought.

"Too much talking," she peppered kisses along his collarbone.

He grabbed her by hips and whirled her around, switching their positions and pressing her between the SUV and the wall of his chest. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them by the side of her head against the windows. He lowered his head to her jaw and began a slow, delicious series of kisses from her chin to her throat.

"I am not,"

kiss

"going to take you,"

kiss

"in a damned parking lot."

kiss

Grace uttered a small cry of desire and pushed her chest into his, fighting his hold on her wrists as she tried desperately to touch him. But he wasn't giving in as he continued his spine-melting tour of her throat with his mouth. Needing him like nothing in her life before, she raised her knee and brought it to the crotch of his track pants, grinding softly into the hard bulge she found there. He froze mid-kiss and groaned harshly against her neck.

"Dammit, Grace. You're not making this easy," he whispered gruffly.

She slipped her wrists from his distracted grasp and locked one around his waist while the other cupped his bulge and squeezed gently. Rigsby bucked into her hand and hissed loudly. His fists smacked into the SUV on either side of her as he fought against the wonderful sensation of Grace Van Pelt's hands on his cock. She massaged him firmly as she leaned up to his ear. "Then call a cab and take me somewhere less objectionable."

He squeezed his eyes shut and smacked the SUV again in frustration, looming over her as she worked him. Grace couldn't help but shiver at his sexy display of power. She couldn't help but feel a little powerful herself as she squeezed him again through his pants and forced another groan from his throat. She took pity on him and released him, bringing her arms around his neck and kissing him softly. His eyes opened in surprise before quickly shutting again and kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her into him.

They kissed like horny teenagers for several minutes before Rigsby broke away again, pulling his lips from hers and inhaling deeply. He kept his arms around her as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. Grace could feel his chivalry and his desire battling for control in his body language, so she didn't press him. She wanted him. Badly. No denying that. But she understood his reasoning. They had been drinking. They were in a parking lot. And they might wake up tomorrow together and feel that anything they did that night was a mistake.

She smiled as she ran her hands lightly over his back. They were balancing on a knife's edge. She knew that if he pinned her to their car and took her hard and fast, she'd gladly participate. She knew that if she shoved him into the SUV and ripped his clothes off, he wouldn't object. They were both so hungry for each other, but neither of them wanted the responsibility of possibly ruining their friendship and work relationship. Still, she couldn't help but giggle as she nuzzled her nose against his chest.

He brought his head down and kissed her lovingly on the top of her head. "Why are you giggling?" he asked, inhaling her shampoo and almost purring at its lovely scent.

"What in the world are we going to do, Wayne?" she smiled into his chest.

He smiled back against her hair. "I don't know. But so help me, I'm fighting the urge to take you right here standing up."

His voice had turned thick and rough. She felt her knees go wobbly as she moaned softly against his tee shirt. "Don't tease."

He growled softly and she felt the vibrations rumble through his chest and into hers. She looked up into his eyes and told the truth. "I want you."

His growl grew deeper. "I want you too."

She placed a small peck on his lips. "Then take me home."

He shut his eyes and shook his head. "You deserve better than this, sweetheart."

She grinned and planted another kiss on his adorable lips. "I don't want you to seduce me, Wayne, if that's what you're worried about. I don't need dinner and a movie. I just need you. Now." She toyed with the short hair on the nape of his neck. "Please?"

His eyes still shut, he exhaled slowly against her lips and nodded. "Okay, Grace."

He pulled his arms away and pulled out his phone to call for a cab. Grace used the time to step away from him and catch her breath while she smoothed out her clothes. She heard his phone snap shut behind her.

"Ten minutes," he told her.

She nodded and turned back to him. "Ten minutes then. We have that long to sober up, change our minds and tell the guy to make two stops."

Rigsby smiled at her as he slowly circled her, letting his predatory side show a little. Grace shivered with delight as she felt his intimidating body skulk around her like a wolf. "Is that what you want?" he asked in a low voice.

Her back instinctively arched a little as her eyes closed. His voice was soothing and menacing all at once. No doubt the booze was affecting his control on these sides of his personality. Sides she didn't normally get to see. She instantly liked them. They felt…a bit dangerous. Sweet, cuddly Rigsby had a dangerous streak. Well, Jane had said so, and the hypnosis certainly brought out some dark tendencies. His clothes didn't help either. As he moved around her, his tee shirt accentuated his muscles and his black pants set off his dark hair. She shivered again. Her teddy bear. Her dangerous, dark teddy bear.

"I don't know. Ten minutes is an awfully long time," she whispered.

Her eyes were still closed, yet she could feel him as he moved around her. She could sense his intentions and half-wondered if he'd take right now after all, standing up.

"Maybe we should list the pros and cons," she added smilingly.

She heard him chuckle deep in his throat. She gasped as he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her back into his arms, up against the SUV once again. He leaned back against the door as he held her tightly in front of him. He didn't attempt another kiss, but instead just rubbed his hands up and down her back soothingly. He looked down into her face and smiled. "Okay. Pro. You're adorably sexy."

She giggled. "You stole mine."

"Then list a con," he said.

"Fine. Con. Our office forbids romantic relationships," she said.

"Pro. Forbidden relationships are also very sexy," he countered.

"Con. We're drunk," she reminded him.

"Pro. You referred to us as tipsy. And we're not so tipsy that we don't know what we're doing," he pointed out.

Grace nodded. "I get a pro now. I sound like a buzzkill," she squinted in exaggerated thought. "Pro. We've known each other for nine months and care about each other."

Rigsby smiled happily. "I like that one. Con. I don't want you doing anything with me you're going to regret."

"Pro. I get to find out if Jane was right and you are indeed an excellent lover," she said, blushing a bit as the words formed.

She felt his arms tighten around her and the smile left his face. His eyes grew large and dark as he leaned down to capture her lips again. He kissed her slowly, exploring her mouth with his tongue and gently nipping her lower lip. His hands slid up her sides and she gasped as he took her breasts into his palms and teased her nipples through her top.

"I think you've convinced me," he whispered against her mouth.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Their cab rolled up next to the SUV and made them jump. Grace instantly moved out of Rigsby's arms and tried to look casual as the driver put his car in park. She grabbed their stuff from the hood and was about to open the back door to climb in, but Rigsby grabbed her elbows and pulled her back against his chest. "One address or two?" he whispered against her ear.

She didn't respond as he let go, but as he climbed into the back seat with her, he got his answer.