Authors Note: Wow, the response to the last chapter was way better than I thought it would be. That being said, no promise of smut in this chapter, I can't get my son to sleep in his own perfectly good bed. Oh, and I just had to share, because that's just the way I am, the name Pink is a variant of Patrick. I'm serious, check it out (just remove the spaces) http:// www. thinkbabynames. com/ meaning/ 1/ Patrick

Disclaimer: As evidenced by the fact that it was Rigsby and Van pelt sucking face in last weeks episode and not Lisbon and Jane, I do not own this show, the characters, or anything really.

Nothing Else 4

Jane sat in the living room of Lisbon's small condo in the same chair she'd sat in just yesterday. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He hadn't thought very far past just showing up at her place when he left the CBI office. He'd just wanted to see her; or her condo; see if there were still lights on, see if there was a chance he might be able to talk to her. His dream had thrown him for a loop and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.

He watched as Lisbon came out of the small kitchen, a Ziploc bag full of ice in one hand and a well worn dish towel in the other. "None of my ice packs are frozen, this will have to do." He watched her come closer, and noticed an almost imperceptible limp; had she hurt herself?

He took the proffered bag of ice and wrapped it tightly, pressing it against his jaw, there was going to be a hell of a bruise by the time the sun came up. He watched as Lisbon settled gingerly into the sofa, Pink jumped up next to her and Lisbon absently scratched behind his ears. Jane glanced over at her and immediately looked away, he could see right up her shirt and there was no way that would help the situation.

"How are you doing?" Jane asked, looking at a spot slightly over her head.

"I'm fine." The silence was more than just a bit awkward. Jane was debating on how to bring up the limp he had noticed, while at the same time, not looking at her legs, her legs that went on for miles and disappeared under that slightly worn baseball jersey. And if he looked at her legs he could see up that ridiculously short jersey right to her…no, he wasn't going to go there, because he would start to think of the dream...

"Are you sure, because you were limping when you came out of the kitchen, did you hurt you leg when you tackled Bosco?" Distraction is always a good tactic.

"Speaking of Bosco," she said, ignoring the question, "What are you doing here Jane? I can't imagine you drove all the way over here at midnight just to get punched in the jaw."

"Well, I haven't pissed any suspects off lately; my face was feeling suspiciously bruise free."

"Seriously Jane, why are you here?"

"Honestly? I wanted to see you, but I knew it was probably too late, so I was just going to play a stalker and sit in my car watching your house all night. It wasn't until I got here and saw Bosco that I decided to actually get out of the car."

Lisbon looked at him, not sure what to say. How do you tell someone that you're glad they came over but please leave so you can go back to your incredibly hot and steamy dream about them? "Did you want some Tylenol? I bet that's got to hurt."

"Sure thanks." He watched as Lisbon walked back to the kitchen, she was trying to walk normally, but it wasn't really working. Still, he couldn't help but notice they way her legs looked when she moved, the way that the jersey rid up just lightly on her hips. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

"Is tap water ok? I don't have anything else really."

"Tap water's fine." Jane called back to her. Looking through the doorway he saw her stretching up to reach a glass out of the cupboard. She stood on her tip toes to reach into the back of the cupboard, the jersey inching up to show just the hint of her ass covered in what looked like plain white cotton panties. Jane shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was as if he was channeling Rigsby and his constant inability to make the first move with Van Pelt. This wasn't like him. He was Patrick Jane, cocky, egotistical, charming, Patrick Jane. He never had a problem pursuing women in the past, now shouldn't be any different. He firmed his resolve, placed the bag of ice still wrapped in the towel on the coffee table and slipped into the kitchen.

Lisbon was standing by the sink, looking through a small cupboard filled with bottles of various sizes. Most of them he could tell were bottles of vitamins and cold medicine. She was clearly looking for the Tylenol. He watched her for a second, noticing the way she was favoring her right leg, before walking up behind her and placed his hands on her hips.

"Lisbon," he mumbled into her ear. "You did hurt yourself. You really shouldn't lie to me."

Lisbon for her part managed to suppress the shiver that ran through her as Jane's hands touched her. "It's nothing Jane; I just knocked my knee on the ground." She turned around with a pill bottle in her hand. "I've done worse at work, its ok."

Jane's hands were still on her hips, resting lightly. "Let me look." He whispered, looking down into her eyes. He didn't wait for a response as he slowly trailed his hands down her hips and down her legs; he knelt in front of her as he continued to stroke down her legs. He tried to keep his voice steady as his face became level with her stomach, and then her thighs. He bent low to look at her knee and noticed a large knot growing there.

"You need the ice better than I do." He mumbled under his breath. Without thinking he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her knee. He closed his eyes and for a brief second allowed himself to think of his dream and the thrill he'd received at seeing her standing on her porch just minutes ago in nothing but an old baseball jersey, distracted as he was by his thoughts he didn't notices the small tremor run through Lisbon's body when he pressed his lips to her knee again.

Lisbon for her part was trying to resist the urge to join Jane on the floor. His lips, though soft, were heavenly. And his hands were still resting on her thighs, just below her ass, and she felt an involuntary shiver go through her body. She leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes, thinking of her dream; the thought of his lips on her neck and other places was just too much. "Jane…" She mumbled, not meaning for the words to come out of her mouth.

Suddenly he was in front of her, his face in hers, his breath on her neck. "Lisbon." He voice was deep and hoarse, and there was a flicker of an emotion Lisbon didn't recognize behind his eyes.

Shakily she brought her hand with the pill bottle up and gave is a gentle shake. "Medicine for your jaw."

"You should take some for that knee; you're going to have a hell of a lump on it."

"Yeah." She slipped past him and grabbed another glass, filling both of them at the same time. She opened the bottle and took out a couple of Tylenol before handing the open bottle to him.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he also took out a few. He swallowed and gestured for her to lead the way back into the living room. As she left he watched her ass again, trying not to groan out loud at the reaction that his anatomy was having to the way that her jersey was riding up. If he had his way she would always wear that and nothing else.

"Which one of your brothers plays baseball?" He asked as they sat down again.

"Andy, middle one. He's got three kids of his own now." The silence settled around them as they both got lost in their own worlds, their own minds, thinking of the dreams they had been having.

"Were you really going to sit outside in your car all night looking at my house?" Lisbon asked suddenly.

"Well, I don't know, maybe." He paused. "If I'd gotten here and Bosco wasn't here and you were standing on that porch silhouetted by the light of the porch light…It's no wonder that they gave you the nickname of Saint Teresa, you were positively heavenly. I think I may have come to your door just to worship you."

"Jane?" She gave him an odd look, it wasn't like him to go on about her like that, sure he was rather observant, but he'd never heard him talk about her, or any one really, in the same terms that he was using now. And without any of the usual sarcasm or guile.

"Do you want to know the real reason I came over here tonight Teresa?" The use of her first name caused her to snap her head towards him. She saw the same emotion that she had seen in the kitchen flit behind his eyes again. "I had a dream, about you. About that jersey you were wearing earlier, about that dance you were doing, about what it would be like to touch you, kiss you." He stood and walked over to her, placing a hand on each side of her head.

"Jane, what are you doing?" She was trying to keep her voice steady, but with him standing over her like that, it was too much like her dream, too much like how she had just been imagining him, he breath caught in her throat as he bent over her.

"This." Was all he said before be bent down and placed a tender kiss to her lips.

Authors Note: As much as I know you all hate authors notes at the beginning and end…lgmtreader and I were discussing the fact that I like to drag out the smut and she really thinks I need to get a move on, and well, apparently I've inspired her to write and alternate ending to this. Taking up the same place this one starts. So, what are you waiting for? It's going to be at least 2 days before you get smut out of me, so follow the link, also the link is in my profile. http:// www. fanfiction. net/s/5487923/1/