Sorry for the delay, but had that irritating "temporary" glitch that lasted for 3 days so I was unable to update. Here are three in place of those days!

30 Shades of Red:

Red Pen

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He had never liked red pens. In school, he thought it irritating when teachers corrected work with them—an asinine display of power and knowledge over their unwitting students. Okay, so maybe he felt a little more animosity than necessary, but he thought it probably stemmed from the fact that his short answers were always more…creative than most. And this is where the tension had entered. His teachers (and, subsequently, their red pens) thought he was wrong. He disagreed.

He had hated receiving papers filled with checks and minuses, little comments on his opinions and, therefore, his personality. Yes, red pen was ever a sign of censure. And even he could admit that he didn't do censure well.

Now, as he watched Lisbon nibble on the end of a red pen, he could feel hostility building within, aimed at said pen. Silly that he felt enmity toward an inanimate object, but still. Her delicate white teeth contrasted with the deep red of the pen. He noted that she must be very distracted by what she was reading—normally, she never let herself fidget. With a jolt, he realized that his reaction to the scene was more than his usual remembrance of teachers who had had no idea how to deal with a little boy such as himself, but rather a reaction to the fact that Lisbon's hands and mouth were on that red pen. Not where he wanted them. Her movements were almost sensual.

He worked to keep his facial expression neutral. He hadn't felt attraction to a specific person in a long time, since his wife. And he couldn't remember feeling lust when she fidgeted. She had never been a fidgeter though, certainly never one to chew on the ends of pens. He knew that if Lisbon realized what she was doing, she would feel slightly embarassed (even if she thought no one had seen). She liked to control her behavioral traits, especially now that he had been working with them for so long. She had never gotten used to his 'reading' her and, in fact, generally disliked it.

Lisbon took the pen from her mouth and tucked it behind her ear as she opened a new file. His desire slowly fading, Jane mused to himself. He was a man, yes, but he had tried his damnedest to deny his body's urges. He wanted, needed to live for one thing only: revenge. But he found, as he looked at the pen balancing behind Lisbon's petite ear, that this newly acknowledged attraction didn't discomfort him. Startle him, yes, but not discomfort him. It made him feel alive, something he sometimes felt he needed to be reminded of. The slow hum of awareness through his veins felt good. For a moment he felt a bit guilty, as if he were cheating on his wife, before he just let himself feel. It had been five years. His wife would have urged him to move on, he knew. And while he couldn't quite do that (at least, not yet), he could recognize that maybe, just maybe, there was still something for him in the world besides revenge.

All this self-realization stemming from a small moment in time with a single red pen.

He still didn't like them.