A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content and gratuitous turtleneck references.

xxx

They checked in with Montrose and Soren briefly on Wednesday morning, but other than that, Lisbon spent the first half of the week writing furiously. She feverishly checked and double checked everything, working straight through the afternoon and evening on Wednesday, and finally submitted the last article at eleven o clock that night. She climbed into bed with Jane and fell into exhausted slumber.

On Thursday, she got up early, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off her. She was proud of finishing everything on time. No matter how the interview went, she had at least done everything she could to prepare for it. She went for a long run to reward herself for her diligence. She'd never thought of herself as a writer, but in the course of revising all those articles, she'd learned a lot about her own style and methods, and had even gotten better at it as she completed more and more of them. She was starting to think she might just pull this thing off.

When she got back to the house after her run, Jane was waiting for her, prowling the living room like a caged panther.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, pushing a sweaty lock of hair out of her eyes. She stopped, catching sight of his agitated pacing. "What's with you?"

"I woke up and you weren't there," he accused.

"Sorry," she said. She walked back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. "I went for a run."

"Obviously," he said, exasperated. He followed her into the kitchen. "You couldn't think of any better way to spend your morning?"

She got a glass down from the cupboard and frowned. "Did you want to go out to breakfast or something? It's still early. We have time if you want to beat the rush at that diner you found the other day."

"No, Teresa," he said, pained. "I do not want to go out to breakfast."

"Okay," she said, studying him warily as she filled the glass from the tap. "Then why are you all worked up about me going for a run?"

"Because," he said with exaggerated patience. "Today is Thursday."

She took a long pull from the glass. "So?"

His eyes tracked her mouth. "So, I thought we had a date."

"We did? To do what?"

He met her eyes. The look in his eyes could only be described as smoldering. "To have and to hold," he said meaningfully.

She swallowed, her throat instantly dry. She hastily took another swig from the glass. "Oh."

He shook his head. "I can't believe you forgot, after giving me such a hard time—"

"I didn't forget," she protested. She set down the glass, her hands suddenly shaky. "I just—we didn't really talk about it again after our fight. I didn't know the, um, date, was still on."

"Oh, it's on," he said, stepping towards her. He slid his hands under her sweaty t-shirt and rested them on her hips, then bent his head to hers. "And you, my dear," he said, brushing his lips against hers, "are officially late."

She curled her fingers into the front of his t-shirt and kissed him back. "Sorry I'm late," she said, a little breathlessly.

Jane bit her bottom lip. "Not a problem." He shifted closer and ran his beautiful hands up and down the skin of her back. "You're worth the wait."

She shivered in his arms. "Patrick," she protested half-heartedly. "I'm all sweaty."

"So?" He gave her sweaty neck a long lick. "I like you sweaty."

"Ungh—" Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. "I need to shower—"

"What do you need to shower for?" he protested. "I'm just going to get you all sweaty again anyway."

She hesitated, torn between lust and self-consciousness. "Call me a romantic, but I don't want to spend any of our first time together worrying about what I smell like."

He rubbed his nose against her neck. "I like the way you smell. It's you."

"If sweaty and gross works for you, I promise you can ravish me first thing after a run another day," she said, attempting to disentangle herself. "But for our first time, I'd really like my hair at least to be clean."

"Very well," he said, reluctantly releasing her. "I suppose you'll need breakfast, too." He swooped in and stole another kiss. "You'll need to keep your strength up."

She kissed him back and grinned into his mouth. "Promises, promises."

He swatted her lightly on the ass. "Go take your shower, woman, or you won't get out of this kitchen un-ravished."

She took an embarrassingly long time to shower and dry her hair. Then of course she was faced with the decision of what to wear. She pulled her underwear drawer open and glanced at the thong, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put it on. Despite their agreement, it somehow felt too…calculating. Feeling self-conscious, she slipped on a pair of simple cotton underwear and matching bra instead. Then she pulled on one of the sundresses Jane had picked out for her, reasoning that Jane wasn't actually going to care what the hell she was wearing, so she might as well focus on logistics and pick something he could strip off of her quickly when the time came. Her hands shook as she did up the zipper on the side. Belatedly, it occurred to her that she was dawdling because she was nervous. It was one thing to react in the heat of the moment, but now, in the cold light of day, doubt rushed in. Was she really ready to topple them into a situation that would produce such a seismic shift in their relationship? Those six months without him had been so hard. If things went wrong, today, or tomorrow, or whenever the end came with Red John, would she be able to survive with that cold empty place inside her again, for months or years, indefinitely?

But the thought of never having him—that was so much worse. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around the ring and cross around her neck. She said a silent prayer, asking God for strength and courage. This felt like a strange thing to pray for when preparing to make love to the man she loved, but was nonetheless what she felt she needed the most. She took a deep breath and went to find Jane in the kitchen.

He'd made her waffles with whipped cream and blueberry syrup. A small bowl of fruit stood beside it.

He looked up when she came in. "There you are," he said, flashing a quick smile at her. "I was about to come in after you."

"Sorry. I was…" She trailed off, searching for the words.

"Nervous?" he guessed.

She blew out a breath. "Yeah."

He held her gaze. "Me, too."

She did a double take. "Really?"

He coughed. "Well, it occurred to me that you may have certain, ah, expectations of my ability to anticipate your preferences in the bedroom…"

She raised her eyebrows. "And you don't think you'll be able to meet those expectations?" Jane was not known for a lack of self-assurance in…well, in anything. The concept that he was actually worried about not being able to please her was difficult to wrap her head around. Especially since he'd already demonstrated in the course of the limited opportunities they'd had for exploring such things that he could set every nerve ending she had alight in a matter of seconds. And that had been when they were both fully clothed.

"I'm a little concerned my judgment may become impaired due to sensory overload the first time around," he admitted ruefully.

She shook her head. "I'm not worried about that." Based on her experience so far, she was pretty sure he'd barely have to touch her to set her off. "I'm worried about…after."

He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I don't want you to worry about that. I'm going to take care of you, Teresa. I promise you." He leaned forward and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. "Now, eat your breakfast."

"Okay," she said, relieved. She sat down at the kitchen counter and pulled a plate of waffles towards her. She tucked in, her nerves combined with her long run making her extra hungry. Jane sat down opposite her.

Noticing he hadn't touched his food, she looked up to find him staring at her like she was a stack of waffles with blueberry syrup. She flushed, then kicked him under the counter. "Eat your breakfast," she chided. "You need to keep your strength up, too."

"Yes, dear," he said with a grin. He obediently picked up his fork and took a bite of waffle.

Lisbon cast her mind about for something to distract herself from attacking him over the counter. "Have you figured out when you're going to start school yet?"

He nodded. "I'm going in on Monday to talk to the principal and will start teaching on Tuesday."

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Hard to say. I'm confident I can manipulate the administrators into giving me the latitude to do things the way I want to, I suppose. But the carnie kid in me feels like I might be overreaching my grasp with this bit of fraud. This isn't just tricking murderers into betraying themselves. It's shaping young minds." He looked down at his plate. "It's a big responsibility."

She reached out and touched the back of his hand. "You're gonna be great," she said softly.

He looked up, his eyes full of hope. "Yeah?" He flipped his hand over and threaded his fingers through hers, giving them a little squeeze.

She nodded. "If I had a kid, I'd love for him or her to be in your class," she said with absolute sincerity.

"Really?" he said, pleased.

"I've seen you with kids," she reminded him. "Any kid in your class- I know you won't let anyone hurt them. Whether that's the school bully or an incompetent vice principal or their own parent—you'll see it, and you'll figure out some way to help them. And you're good at getting people what you want them to do. You'll be able to wrangle the kids more easily than most people would be able to."

"You clearly haven't spent that much time with a group of five year olds," he said ruefully. "They're the toughest group of people on the planet to con."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm not worried."

He eyed her with an unreadable expression. "So…if you had a kid, you'd be okay leaving that kid with me all day?"

She blushed again. "Sure. They'd probably pick up all sorts of terrible habits like picking pockets and cheating at poker, but they'd be well-equipped to deal with the world, and you'd help make sure that they had a kind heart."

His eyes didn't leave hers. "Is that…something you want? Children of your own, I mean?"

She swallowed hard and drew her hand away. She shot him a pleading look. "Can we—can we table that conversation for another time?" She didn't think she could handle another emotionally weighty issue taking up any brain space on this particular day.

"Yes," he said, too quickly. "Quite right. One relationship defining event at a time."

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

He took another bite of waffle, but chewed as if he wasn't tasting it. "What time is your interview tomorrow?"

"Eleven," she told him.

"Good," he said, satisfied. "You'll get to sleep in." Then his face fell.

"What?" she asked, taking another bite of her own waffle. He was missing out—it really was excellent.

"I just realized," he said, pained. "What are you going to wear to your interview?"

"A suit, I guess," she said. Then the penny dropped. "Oh. I don't have any of my suits here," she realized. She frowned. "Damn."

"We'll have to go shopping," he said, disappointed. "I guess we'd better push back our date."

"What?" she said, alarmed. "No. It's fine. I'll go tomorrow morning, pick something up on the way to the interview."

He shook his head. "We'd better do it today, get it over with. Once I get you into bed, I'm not going to want to let you out of it for at least twenty-four hours. With the interview at eleven, that will be cutting it pretty close."

She looked at him askance. He sounded serious. "Okay, fine," she said dubiously. "But let's make it quick."

He sighed. "Really not the words I was hoping to hear from you today. But in this case, I suppose I have to agree with the sentiment."

xxx

Lisbon felt her mouth pull into a grimace the minute they stepped foot in the shopping mall. Ugh. She couldn't believe she was actually passing up sex with Jane in favor of one of her least favorite activities. One of the reasons she had that damn Victoria Secret card in the first place was so she could just get what she needed online and never have to actually set foot in the stores.

Jane turned to her. "Okay. Don't take this the wrong way. But this will go a lot faster if you let me be in charge."

"What do you mean, let you be in charge?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, I have better taste than you do, and I'll be able to identify what suits you much more efficiently than you will," he said, as though this were obvious.

She raised her eyebrows. "You think you'll be able to figure out what clothes will work for me better than I can?" she said, ignoring the 'better taste' crack.

"Of course. I've spent much more time looking at you than you have," he said logically.

She snorted. "Very reasonable."

"Also, I won't waste time fretting over every price tag I come across," he continued. "I'll just pick out a few things for you, and we'll be in and out in no time."

"A few things?" she repeated. "Patrick, you already bought me all that stuff the other day. I just need something for the interview."

He shook his head. "I bought you the bare necessities. You need every day work clothes."

"We can deal with that later," Lisbon said, feeling distinctly put out. If he tried to stonewall her one more time on this issue—

"If we wait, we'll have to come back this weekend," he argued. "And I was only planning to let you leave the bed for the interview tomorrow." Again, he sounded completely serious. "When it's over, I was planning to lure you back there and keep you there the rest of the weekend. Let's get it over with now—then we can start our honeymoon properly, without any tedious errands hanging over our heads."

Well, when he put it that way… "Fine," she acceded. "But only if I get to pick some things out for you, too."

"Deal," he said. He fixed her with a look. "And before you start – you know I have plenty of money left over from my trip to the casino, right?"

She had no idea how much he'd won that day, but she could imagine. "I suppose."

"So do you promise not to waste time arguing about prices?" he said expectantly.

She made a face. "Fine. But don't start picking out thousand dollar designer dresses or anything—try to behave as though you're a normal person with at least some concept of what it means to spend within a budget."

"Okay," he agreed. He put his hand at the small of her back. "Let's get started."

Xxx

It wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated. Jane assessed every outfit he passed at a glance, selecting only those he deemed the correct size, cut, and style and placing them in a growing pile in Lisbon's arms. At first, she insisted on trying on everything he picked out, not trusting that he could accurately predict what would fit her properly just by looking at something on a hanger, but after the first couple stores, she gave it up. The experience of modeling clothing Jane had picked out for her to Jane himself while he looked at her like he wanted to devour her had her running so hot she was desperate to get the whole business over with and get back to the house. So she let Jane add stuff to the pile and stopped arguing.

She did manage to get him to buy a few things for himself, including, shockingly, a handful of ties that he picked out for himself. "Part of my disguise as a working stiff," he explained at her amazed look. Apparently, though, these were not intended to be worn with any of his usual style of suits—he said he was going for 'the bespoke professor look.' This seemed to include a combination of button down shirts, jeans, a few jackets, and the odd sweater. When he tried on one of those tweed jackets with the funny elbow patches and a pair of reading glasses to make her laugh, she'd actually been speechless for a second. "Okay," she said finally. "Shopping trip's over. Let's get out of here."

"Really, Teresa?" he said, delighted. "Absent-minded professor? That's the look that flips your switch? Should I add a turtleneck and pipe to complete the ensemble?"

"Shut up," she growled. "Are you ready to go or not?"

"Well, I'm obviously going to need a tweed jacket now," he said, replacing the one with the elbow patches and picking out three more fashionable variations on the theme before heading to the register.

She made Jane let her drive the Prius back to the house, thinking it would be a good thing to have something other than Jane and his stupid beautiful hair and mouth and big beautiful hands to focus on for the duration of the twenty minute drive. But since Jane spent the whole drive tracing patterns on her thigh with his fingertips and smoldering at her from the passenger seat, she had considerable difficulty keeping her attention on the road.

Xxx

When she pulled into the driveway back at the house, she barely got the car into park and her seatbelt off before their eyes met and they reached for each other. They made out in the front seat for several frantic minutes before they finally managed to separate long enough to get out of the car. They managed to more or less contain themselves through the process of making their way through the front garden and getting the door unlocked, but the minute the door closed behind them, Lisbon found herself with her back against the door being kissed within an inch of her life.

Jane's mouth found her neck. "Oh," he said with feeling, his mouth pressing a series of long, wet kisses to her neck. "I missed this."

Lisbon let her head fall back against the door. "What a hardship you've suffered," she said breathlessly, running her hands through his hair to encourage him as she kicked off her sandals. "Three whole days of not being allowed to kiss my neck, after never kissing me at all for ten years."

"You were very cruel to deny me the neck, Teresa," he said, pressing kiss after kiss there.

"You brought it on yourself," she panted, utterly without remorse. She clutched at him, desperate to have him closer.

"Sorry about that." He bit down on her collarbone. "Am I forgiven?"

"Not yet," she said, arching into him. She dragged his head back up so she could find his mouth with hers.

He kissed her long and deep. "I'll make it up to you."

"You'd better," she said, attacking the buttons on his shirt with fervor at the same time as he found the zipper on her dress.

They collided in the middle, arms and sleeves tangled as they each tried to get the other's clothing off at the same time, but they managed in the end. They left two puddles of fabric on the floor as they made their way down the hall, their mouths fused together again.

Jane's shoes thudded onto the floor halfway down the hall. Socks toed off in the doorway. Then they were on the bed at last, and Jane was touching her. His hands—God, his hands were everywhere. Running up and down her legs, then tracing the slope of her breast. Ghosting along the side of her ribs, her stomach, grasping her hip. All without relinquishing her mouth.

They were still wearing far too many clothes. Lisbon groaned into his mouth and sat up, unhooking her bra with unprecedented desperation and flinging it to the side. Then she reached for his belt.

Jane, as usual, was not cooperating. When she finally got her bra off, his eyes darkened and he paused. He grasped her hands and pulled her into his lap before she could manage to get his belt off, drinking in the sight of her. He reached out and cupped her breasts, one in each hand. "God, you're beautiful," he said in wonder. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on each breast, his breath unsteady. "Exquisite."

Lisbon squirmed on his lap, desperate for more contact.

He groaned. "Wait—wait. Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

She bit his shoulder and reached down between their bodies to stroke his erection through the front of his trousers. "I'm tired of waiting."

His breath hissed out between his teeth and his hips jerked involuntarily. "Please," he begged, his voice ragged. "Please. Let me—let me…" He tipped her onto her back. He gazed down at her, his eyes black with desire. "Let me look at you," he said hoarsely. "Let me touch you."

As impatient as she felt, she couldn't deny him anything when he was looking at her like that. He looked at her like he'd stumbled across the eighth wonder of the world, and she was it. Unable to find her voice, she just nodded, her eyes fixed on his.

It was torturously slow. Jane insisted on kissing every inch of her, refusing to be rushed. He spent ages on her breasts, cupping, squeezing, tasting. He roamed over her at will, whispering words of love into her skin. She thought he might have set a personal goal to kiss every freckle on her body before the afternoon was over. Lisbon thrashed under the touch of lips and tongue, her fingers twisting the sheets. She needed him so badly she could hardly bear it.

She nearly wept with relief when he finally peeled her underwear off her and tossed it over his shoulder.

But he only paused and inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent, before kissing his way back to her breasts again, taking one into his mouth and starting the whole sensuous torture over again.

She hooked her leg over his hip, desperately seeking the friction she needed. "Patrick," she said wildly. "Please."

"Shh," he soothed, capturing her leg with one hand and running his hand down the back of her thigh, stroking her skin with a sure, light touch.

She almost sobbed with frustration. That so wasn't helping.

Then he slid his hand between her legs and brushed his thumb over her clit, once, twice.

Lisbon threw her head back and arched in release, gasping in relief.

Jane paused. "Did you just…?" he asked, startled.

"Shut up," she growled, and flipped them over before he could get too smug about the fact that he'd barely needed to touch her to make her come apart. The bastard was still wearing his pants, for God's sake.

Together, they made short work of his pants and boxers, and then finally, Jane was beneath her, naked. She paused, staring down at him. Good God, the man was beautiful.

"Where's the condom?" she asked desperately, twisting around—were they in the bathroom? She did not want to go that far away from him right now.

"Here." Jane reached into the bedside table and produced a condom. He sat up. "You, uh, better let me. I'm a little—yeah. Not sure I can get through this process without embarrassing myself if you touch me right now."

"Fine," she said impatiently. Whatever would get him inside her the fastest.

Jane put the condom on, then drew her to him, arranging her on his lap with her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips. "This okay, sweetheart?" he said.

She bit her lip and nodded, and then he guided himself into her as she shifted forward and sank down on him. She gasped again, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling her.

"Hold on," Jane gasped. His fingertips dug into her hips. "I—I need a sec."

"Okay," she said, and leaned forward to kiss him. She could exercise a little patience, now that she finally had him where she wanted him.

He kissed her back, a little desperately. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and they breathed in and out together in slow, measured breaths together while he got himself under control.

Then he flexed his hips, and Lisbon cried out. Yes. Finally. She moved with him, wanting him deeper, deeper and more, more. She kept the pace slow, sensing that was what he needed right now.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. His hands slid up and down the bare skin of her back, urging her closer. "Teresa," he breathed. "You're so good—so good to me." Another kiss, to her collarbone this time. "You're the most beautiful person I—" his breath hitched. "Most beautiful person I know. I know I don't deserve you, but I want to." His lips found her neck again. "You have no idea how much." He picked up his pace, still holding her as close as possible. "I won't let anything happen to you," he gasped, clutching her tighter. "I promise you, I won't. I couldn't bear it if something did." He peppered her neck with kisses, as an assurance, though whether to himself or her was unclear. "I won't let it, I swear." He was babbling now. "God, I missed you so much. Being away from you was awful. I never want to be apart from you again." Another gasp. "Promise me—promise me you won't… you won't—" he broke off, overcome, or perhaps afraid to ask this of her.

She kissed him. "I'm here, Patrick," she soothed, running her hands through his curls as she moved with him. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looked up at her, the truth shining out at her from his eyes. All the love and pain and longing she hadn't quite believed before was right there in front of her, unhidden. "I love you so much," he whispered, seeking her mouth again desperately. "So much."

"I love you, too," she murmured against his lips. She kissed him deeper, unable to get close enough.

And then he was moving with new urgency, words spilling out of him as he tried to bury himself deeper inside her. Words of love, of hope, of desperate need. All the while touching her back, kissing her neck, running his fingers through her hair. Lisbon couldn't speak, too overwhelmed by the sensations of their two bodies joining. She'd never felt closer to another human being in her whole life.

Then his fingers dug into her hips as he drove upwards even deeper, and she shattered.

When she came back down from the heavens, he was cradling her close, as though she were the most precious thing on the planet. Still hard inside her.

"I need to…" She gestured, trying to get her breath back.

He obliged her, flipping them over so he was on top. She nearly wept when he pulled out for a moment to reposition, but then he was there again, filling her, and she dug her own fingers into his hips to hold him there, never wanting him to leave.

He kissed her again, his arms braced under her back, still holding her close, and then he started to move again.

"Oh, my God, Patrick!" she gasped. She hadn't been prepared for the delicious new friction of the different angle. He sped up, and she cried out again. Then he was thrusting in and out, wild and uncontrolled. She urged him on, wanting more, more, more. He hitched her leg higher over his hip and drove deeper, and she broke apart once again. "Teresa," he gasped, then finally let go and followed her over the edge.

He collapsed on top of her, gasping for air. She ran her hands through his hair again, enjoying the weight of him on top of her.

She nearly whimpered at the loss when he pulled out to deal with the condom, but then he was back, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her close to his chest and kissing her hair.

"That was…" he gasped out, still breathing heavily.

"Yeah," she agreed, snuggling into him.

He nuzzled her hair. "Well? Did I meet expectations?"

"Well, I did have pretty high expectations," she teased. She turned her head and kissed him. "But somehow, you still managed to exceed them."

"Mm," he said, closing his eyes in satisfaction. "You, too."

They lay there for several minutes, recovering, but still unwilling to let the other out of reach. Then Jane said, "I was wrong, you know."

Lisbon traced lazy circles on his chest. "About what?" she asked, not really caring.

"I was afraid if we had sex too soon, it would interfere with the emotional progression of our relationship," he explained. "But I feel closer to you now than I ever have before. I should have been thinking of sex as a way to get closer to you, not as an impediment. I should have realized that sooner."

She kissed his shoulder. "Well, you can be pretty stupid sometimes," she agreed.

He laughed. She smiled into his chest, loving the sound of his laughter and the sensation of being in his arms. Really, aside from the removal of multiple threats against their lives and a safe return to their friends and family, who could ask for more?

Xxx

Lisbon hardly knew what she said in her interview the next day. She spoke to the managing editor, a tough, competent woman who reminded her of Hightower, and the bureau chief, a disgruntled middle-aged man who didn't seem too happy to see her. She got along with the managing editor famously, and managed to remember some of what Montrose had drilled her in to prepare for her interview. Aside from her nerves and the way her mind kept wandering back to the way Jane had looked when she'd left him in bed that morning, the hardest part was when they'd asked her about what steps she would take to investigate background on a story and she had to remember that as a reporter, she wouldn't have access to the same resources that she would as a law enforcement professional. Still, overall, she thought it had gone well, an impression borne out when she received a phone call from the managing editor twenty minutes after the interview.

"Guess what?" she called, letting herself in the house. She wandered back into the kitchen and found Jane putting away groceries. "I got the job!"

Jane set down a bottle of olive oil and leaned over to peck her on the lips. "Congratulations. I knew you would."

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, exasperated. "I've never worked as a reporter a day in my life—they could have made me the minute I walked in there."

"Meh. You were interviewing for a job as investigative reporter. You have years of experience of investigating. That was bound to tell in the interview. And after reading your revisions to those articles, I happen to know that your pithy prose are just what newspapers like—economical, to the point, but capable of capturing the human element when you need to elicit an emotional response from your readers." Jane put away a carton of milk and three kinds of gourmet cheese. "When do you start?"

"Monday."

"Ah. Okay. In that case, there's no time to waste." He picked up the last of the grocery bags and shoved it into the fridge without looking inside it. "Your furlough is officially over."

"My furlough?" Lisbon asked, amused.

He shut the fridge door and stalked towards her with a predatory look that was starting to be familiar to her. "No more distractions. We have some serious honeymooning to take care of." Lisbon yelped in surprise as he actually picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom.

Apparently he'd been perfectly serious about keeping her in bed the whole weekend.

Lisbon, for her part, really couldn't find it in herself to complain.