AN: This is the end of this piece! I didn't actually intend to end it here, but sometimes things just sort of happen. My next few projects will probably be episode tags, since the Super Duper Tag Project was my idea and I've sadly neglected it.
Thank you to everyone who has left a review. You are all so very, very appreciated.
The first part of this is M.
Learning to Breathe
Chapter Ten
They didn't make love for a full week following her release from the hospital. It was more Jane than Lisbon – in fact, she had done everything but literally throw herself at him, and the only reason that hadn't happened was because she didn't think she was physically capable of it in her current state.
She knew that was the cause of Jane's hesitation – he was scared of hurting her.
However, she also knew that he wanted her very, very much. He didn't bother to try and conceal it as they curled together at night, or when she pulled him in for a deep kiss.
But when she pushed, he retreated.
She thought she was going to explode.
They were laying on the couch, his front to her back, watching the final three innings of an Astros game. Jane couldn't have cared less, but like he had told her before, he was going to be wherever she was.
Abruptly, she rolled to face him. He looked down at her with a slight smile, his eyes soft. His gaze lingered a bit on her cheek, but even that was healing. A few coats of concealer and it just looked like a shadow, though it was obviously still tender.
"I'm not made of glass, you know," she remarked conversationally.
"I know," he said very slowly, clearly wondering where this was going to go.
With a sigh that was meant to convey frustration with his obstinacy, she slid her fingers into the curls at his nape and tugged him down, demanding he open his mouth as soon as their lips met.
He complied, one hand bracing himself against the couch cushions. She found his other, pressed it against her breast.
Almost immediately, he stilled, pulling back.
"Jane," she nearly moaned, and she didn't bother to hide her desperation.
His expression was torn – wary but needy. He didn't speak, and she knew he was warring with himself. Time to help things land in her favor.
"I know you're afraid," she whispered, hand against his lightly stubbled jaw. "But this, you being distant…that hurts me more." Her eyes were open, honest. She was saying nothing but the truth, and he would be able to recognize that.
She thought she would win this now, seeing the very first flash of surrender cross his face, but she needed to be sure. Her palm fell from his face, coasted down his chest, and came to rest against his clearly evident arousal.
His lips parted, perhaps to tell her to stop, so she moved her fingers, rubbing and squeezing, gratified when his eyes closed and a shaky breath ghosted over her hair.
"Please, Patrick?" she asked, voice a sensual murmur now. "I need you."
His eyes opened, a blaze of brilliant blue-green. "Bedroom," he whispered, harsh and staccato, and she tried to hide her triumphant smile.
He was gentle, so gentle with her – carefully easing clothing off of her body, lips grazing every new inch of exposed skin. To her surprise, he kissed the bruises across her torso; she thought he would have avoided them entirely. His touch was feather-light, just a brush of softness and warmth, tender and teasing at the same time.
Her back arched when he took the taut peak of one breast into his hot mouth, her hands tangling in his hair, holding him in place.
His fingers found her center, deft and talented and able to read her body language down to the last letter.
He took a great deal of time to make her ready, so long, in fact, that she nearly screamed in frustration. Her fingernails on his shoulders had to be hurting him by now, but he gave no indication that he was bothered. When he finally circled his thumb with the absolute perfect amount of pressure, she made a noise that didn't sound quite human to her ears, seemingly ripped from her throat.
She was trembling all over when she opened her eyes, Jane on his side next to her smiling in a self-satisfied sort of way.
He nuzzled into her neck, nipped gently at her earlobe, very carefully turning her to her side as well. He had held her this way before their first time, but it was quite different now. His warm hand pulled one of her legs on top of his, and her lips parted unconsciously as she felt him at her entrance.
She had missed this feeling, this connection so very much.
But he was teasing her with his body again, and she tried to push back against him, groaning his name as he gave her just a little of what she wanted. She knew he was smiling even if she couldn't see him.
"Hush, Teresa," he told her, voice husky and deep. "We're doing this my way."
He made love to her in slow degrees, unhurriedly, careful to not put too much pressure on her still healing body.
His breathing was fast in her ear when his fingers slid from her hips to the apex of her thighs again, expertly bringing her to climax again. She was still flying when she felt his body stiffen behind her, heard his soft exhalation of release.
In a few minutes, she relaxed fully, Jane's heartbeat now under her unbroken cheek. He pulled the down comforter up to her shoulders, absently stroking her hair away from her face.
"See?" she murmured, eyes closed. "Nothing to be worried about."
He chuckled softly. "Nope, not a thing, except for the knowledge that my girlfriend is absolutely not above guilting me into having sex with her."
She swatted his chest. "Don't pretend that you didn't like it."
Jane kissed her hair. "I loved it," he said. "Feel free to do it more often."
She smiled to herself as she felt him drifting off to sleep. One more obstacle that they had overcome. It wouldn't be the last, she knew that, but she was confident in their ability to handle whatever life threw at them.
Six months later, the word girlfriend was replaced with fiancée, and a few months after that, she earned the title of wife.
Some days, she fancied that she could almost see him healing. However, there were still times when she knew there were things he would perhaps never be able to overcome.
The first night their baby had slept in the nursery away from them, she'd found Jane asleep on the floor in front of the crib.
It was heartbreaking, but she left him alone, knowing that this was simply one fear he wasn't going to be able to deal with, at least not that night.
"I'm trying," he told her that morning, a touch of defensiveness in his tone as he snuggled their tiny little girl. Daddy was her favorite place to sleep, and understandably so. It was her favorite place to sleep, too.
"I know," she replied, and kissed his forehead, one hand resting lightly against their daughter's back.
In time, some of his more severe fears seemed to ebb. By the time their son was born, it was rare to find Jane in the nursery in the middle of the night unless his presence was actually required. He was more than a little overprotective, but she was alright with that. Her own father certainly hadn't been so, and she found it just made her love Jane even more, something she hadn't thought possible.
One sultry summer night, she joined him outside on the back patio, their children sleeping soundly. Their very fat basset hound followed her down the few steps, and she paused to scratch the dog's ears.
"You big spoiled baby," she said affectionately, then perched in the lawn chair next to Jane.
He handed her a beer, and she took a very tiny sip.
"I'll never get over this sky," she told him, looking up at the vast expanse above them. It seemed endless.
Jane smiled. "Everything's bigger in Texas," he quoted. "Bigger skies, bigger belt buckles…"
"Bigger families?" she tacked on, and then held her breath. This wasn't precisely how she'd planned to tell him, but since the situation had arisen…
He stared, attention fully on her face. Slowly, he grinned, eyes crinkling in his joy. "It's a girl," he said, once he was done kissing her.
He had been right the first two times. "You think?" she asked. "You'll be outnumbered."
His smile was blinding, even in the darkness. "It was always my ambition to be loved by many women."
She swatted his arm, but then pulled him closer. Her response was lost as she kissed him again, or tried to.
They were both smiling too widely.