A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first one-shot, you've made me smile and I was thoroughly amused by some of them ;) Most of the stories in this collection will probably be established J/L (though unrelated), and again, this is set in a post RJ future. This one is particularly fluffy. It's basically fluff without plot, heh. Also, I kept the rating at T for this, which should still be okay I think.

Thank you to Autumn (watchyouwalk), as always.

Prompt: Fun and games

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist.

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02. Fun and games

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"You can't do that," Lisbon protested.

"Of course I can. I just did," Jane pointed out rather obviously in return. "Shall I refresh the rules of the game for you?"

"But you deliberately moved your knight right into my path, and now I'll be forced to take it," she complained, her eyes never leaving the board.

"Well, you do what you have to do. I'm not forcing you."

"Yes, you are! I have to capture your knight; you'll be a threat to my queen if I don't. But of course, then you'll end up taking my bishop." She frowned, shooting him an evil glare when his latest strategy dawned on her. "This was your master plan all along, wasn't it?"

Her opponent chuckled, shaking his head in obvious amusement. "Not everything I do involves a master plan."

"Sure it does," she muttered, which only earned her another smirk. "This isn't fair, you know. I'm already down to my underwear."

"Hmm, I'm well aware. I happen to be enjoying the view quite a bit."

His gaze slid over her half-naked form admiringly before glancing around the room at the various clothing items that had been thrown carelessly to the side. Lisbon had surrendered her dark green blouse after losing a tight match the previous round, and she'd tossed it over the nearest lamp, unintentionally casting a dim glow over their living room.

"Whose idea was this, anyway?" She stubbornly asked, sulking slightly while she pondered her options in hopes of finding a way out of her current predicament.

"Yours," he reminded her sweetly, a breathtaking grin lighting up his entire face. "One of your finer ones, if I do say so myself."

Another frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and she purposely moved her hand away from the bishop Jane obviously had his eyes on to hover over her own knight instead.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you…" Jane warned her in a sing-song voice.

"Oh hush, you."

"Really, sweetheart, you're just delaying the inevitable. If you move your own knight to E4, I'll actually have you cornered faster." His eyes flitted across the board as he said this, obviously playing out a couple of future moves in his head.

"I don't need you to teach me how to play chess."

"Your current state of undress suggests otherwise."

"I said, hush!" she repeated, throwing one of the couch cushions in his direction.

He couldn't contain his enjoyment as a cheerful laugh echoed through the room. It was adorable to see Lisbon get so worked up every single time, and he realised they were definitely very similar in that particular respect. Her competitive streak was one of the things he loved about her, as it allowed her to challenge him in a way that no one else ever could. Even though he wasn't about to admit it, it never bothered him when she ended up the victor in the end, because seeing that triumphant smile take over her face was usually more than enough to forget about his loss instantly.

Lisbon withdrew her hand and casually reached into the bowl of chips sitting next to the chess board, picking up another handful as she very obviously stalled for time.

"We should get one of those small clocks and actually time the thinking process; you'd probably get fouled all the time."

"Like it didn't just take you ten minutes to think about your previous move!" She immediately countered.

"If it's any consolation, I very much enjoy the fact that you're still going into each match with the expectation of winning. I've always been an admirer of your determination," he teased, gazing at her affectionately.

"Need I remind you that I've beaten you at this before?" She pointedly glanced down, implying he wasn't lounging around in his boxers for fun.

"Meh," he waved off her remark easily. "That was merely poor concentration on my part. Chess is a gruelling mental battle, and it's fairly difficult to focus when you're distracting me, looking like that."

"Right. We won't mention the numerous occasions when I actually beat you fully clothed. I completely understand it bruises your ego, but stop distracting me. I'm trying to concentrate here."

He obliged willingly, though the renewed concentration on her part didn't help save this particular match when only five moves later, Jane rather victoriously called out, "Checkmate!"

"Did you know that the word checkmate comes from the Persian phrase 'Shah Mat', which actually means 'the king is dead'?" He added as an afterthought.

"Fascinating," she replied tonelessly.

"You shouldn't be a sore loser, dear; it doesn't become you." The blonde grinned when Lisbon stood up with a defeated expression and glanced down at the remains of her attire.

There wasn't much left from her original outfit, and the current score was now set at 4-2 in Jane's favour. If she lost the next one, the game would inexorably be over, and Jane would declare himself the winner. A sly smile crossed her face upon realising there were various tactics at her disposal that would probably sufficiently distract him. She turned around, reaching for the clasp on her bra before pausing momentarily, supposedly reconsidering, and she didn't need to look over her shoulder to know she had his full attention.

"Is there a problem?" Jane asked, clearly far more amused than necessary judging by his tone of voice.

"No, I'm simply trying to figure out the best approach," she answered cryptically, facing him again.

Jane raised an eyebrow suggestively, shooting her a charming smile, but Lisbon noticed his eyes clouding over with desire, and she knew winning this next match would be a piece of cake. But her rival evidently had other things on his mind than another game of chess, and he stood up, watching her ponder her quandary with glinting eyes, slowly walking closer.

"I appreciate the dilemma, but I've been thinking," he mused. "Shouldn't I get to decide which article of clothing you shed next?"

"No. You didn't do so before - why would you suddenly want to now?" She smirked, understanding his reasoning all too well.

"Well, I think the official rules state that when you lose the match, the other gets to choose what goes."

"The official rules?" she repeated sceptically.

"Yes."

"Of strip chess?"

"Yes."

"I hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing, Patrick," she said, unable to hide the smile lurking at the corner of her lips.

He frowned in mock disapproval. "Well, how can you be sure? Shouldn't we at least check first? Besides, if no one's bothered with setting up some ground rules for this kind of thing, then it's high time someone did. I believe I'm rather worthy of the task."

He stopped only inches in front of her, and Lisbon felt her heart beat faster in anticipation. She briefly revelled in the fact that after all this time, he still had the ability to make her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

One look or touch from the man standing before her was enough to spread a familiar, pleasurable warmth inside her.

"I could help you with that, you know," he offered graciously, slowly running one finger along the strap of her bra. The yearning look on his face combined with the unmistakable lust lighting up his eyes made it hard to focus on anything else but him.

He leaned forward and kissed her neck, causing Lisbon to let out a contented sigh as she instinctively moved her head to the side. She quickly finished with the last button on his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and throwing it to the side. A soft moan escaped her lips when his fingers grazed the sides of her stomach, a pleasant tingle travelling along with them until he reached the edge of her black lace panties. His hands traced the design on the front as every nerve ending was instantly on fire, heat coursing through her entire body.

She trailed her nails slowly down his back, sending a shiver down his spine while she brushed her soft lips lovingly against his. He held her face gently as he deepened the kiss, suddenly becoming aware of Lisbon steadily pushing him back towards the couch. He dropped down with a soft thud, and she straddled his waist, reclaiming his lips as her fingers laced into his hair and tightened around his curls. He delicately trailed one finger along the curve of her breasts, feeling her shudder before sliding his hand to her back, effortlessly unclasping her bra.

Lisbon could feel his growing arousal, and she pulled back, her lips curling up into a devilish smile that made his heart rate speed up considerably. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face when she abruptly stood up from the couch and sauntered back towards the chess board, sitting down on her side as if nothing had happened.

"Get back here," he demanded.

"I'd like to draw your attention to the fact that I haven't lost yet. As long as I have one garment left, I'm still in the running," she teased. "Now, come on," she began positioning all of the pieces back on their rightful squares, taking great care not to laugh at the stunned expression on his face.

Jane narrowed his eyes at her. "You shrewd woman," he muttered, walking over to where she sat waiting, seemingly unaffected, and he reached out to pull her off the couch, his hands resting on her hips.

There was a combination of mockery and compassion playing in her smirk when she looked up at him from beneath those long, dark eyelashes. "Does this mean you forfeit the game?" she asked playfully. "Because I don't mind continuing. Unless you're afraid I'll end up beating you, of course."

"Trust me, that's the least of my concerns right now," he breathed into her ear.

"So you admit defeat?" she grinned. "I believe we agreed whoever lost would have to do the dishes for a week."

"Oh fine, if you insist, then I'll admit to losing. I've stopped caring at this point." He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips while his hands never stopped caressing her back. "More interesting matters need addressing."

The sound of her laughter was always infectious, and he found himself smiling along.

"You shouldn't be a sore loser, dear. It doesn't become you," Lisbon couldn't resist repeating his earlier advice.

"And you shouldn't gloat," he countered.

She gasped in surprise when he wrapped one arm behind her back and tucked the other behind her knees, gracefully sweeping her off her feet with great ease in one swift movement. He always marvelled at the interesting duality she represented; the fact that she was light as a feather, and he never had any trouble carrying her up the stairs, while at the same time fully realising that, if she put her mind to it, she'd have him tackled and pinned to the floor in under 5 seconds.

He smirked when he looked into her smiling eyes, still full of mirth and silent triumph, as they finally reached their bedroom.

He gently lowered her onto the bed and hovered over her, leaning closer to whisper, "I kind of feel like playing a different game." And unable to resist provoking her just once more, he added, "and I might even feel like letting you win this one."

"Let me win?" she quirked an eyebrow and trailed one hand teasingly down his chest before hooking her thumbs into his boxers. "You're going to regret that comment," she warned, her voice full of promise.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he grinned, before pulling her in for another kiss, secretly making a vow never to complain about losing a bet to her again, as long as this was the outcome.

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