A/N: Salvation-dear's "Flame Turns Blue," an absolutely beautiful piece of writing, includes a line about Jane being haunted for weeks by a brief, accidental kiss. This story is inspired by that scene. You all should read that story, it's one of my all time favorites.

xxx

Really, it was all Rigsby's fault. There was no doubt about it. One hundred percent of the blame could be laid squarely at Rigsby's feet.

It had been Rigsby, after all, who'd insisted in participating in the office-wide White Elephant in addition to the gift exchange the SCU typically conducted within the team. Rigsby who had laughed in delight when he'd discovered his gift had been a slingshot. Rigsby who had tucked the slingshot in his back pocket like an eight-year-old. Rigsby who had been half a beer away from jumping up on the desks in the bullpen and doing Tina Turner.

And it had been Rigsby who had been running around the office holiday party with reindeer antlers on his head, using his slingshot to launch mistletoe into the drunk, appreciative crowd.

Jane hadn't even been sure he was going to go to the holiday party in the first place. On the one hand, such events were an excellent forum to collect gossip that could be used for future blackmail purposes. On the other hand, attending the party would inevitably expose him to a host of unpalatable risks such as Rigsby doing Tina Turner and the tedious attentions of Susan from Accounting. Still, he reasoned, he wasn't likely to get much work done on the Red John case with the raucous sounds of the party drifting up to the attic from two floors below.

Besides, Lisbon would be there. Introverted Lisbon dreaded such functions even more than he did, but she felt as team leader she ought to put in an appearance. Jane knew he could count on her presence to help shield him from the horrors of Tina Turner and Susan from Accounting. Also, sometimes Lisbon dressed up for these events. This was a powerful mitigating factor when considering the risk of Tina Turner making an appearance. Lisbon hated small talk, so she could use an ally to protect her. Really, he rationalized to himself, he owed it to Lisbon to turn up and keep her entertained so she wouldn't go mad with boredom. He preferred not to think too deeply about the fact that the possibility of experiencing dressed up Lisbon had been the factor that had tipped the scale in favor of attending the annual CBI holiday party every year for the past four years running. Last year's outfit—a cranberry red wrap dress—would be tough to beat.

But when he arrived at the party, Lisbon wasn't dressed up at all. Instead, she wore jeans paired with a bright green sweater with a yellow-gold Christmas tree knitted into the pattern in the middle of her chest. It was a perfectly ridiculous article of clothing, and Lisbon looked thoroughly adorable in it. Oh, yes. Jane grinned. This was almost as good as the cranberry red dress.

He made a beeline for her. He wove his way past the multitude of drunken agents milling around the bullpen with champagne glasses in their hands. Lisbon stood in the corner near the conference table, talking to a burly man Jane recognized as Sanders, one of the other unit leaders. She leaned against a low filing cabinet, smiling at something Sanders was showing her on his phone. Based on her relaxed posture and 'aw' expression, Jane guessed it was photos of his kids.

"Hey, Lisbon," Jane greeted her when he reached her side. He nodded to Sanders in acknowledgment. "Sanders."

"Hey, Jane," Sanders said, polite but nervous. He cleared his throat. "Nice talking to you, Lisbon. I'll see you later," he said, and beat a hasty retreat.

Jane raised an eyebrow at Lisbon. "Was it something I said?"

Lisbon smirked. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Ah, well," Jane said, leaning against the filing cabinet so his shoulder brushed hers. He grinned at her. "Nice sweater."

"Don't start," she warned. "It was a gift from my nephews."

"I like it. Very festive."

A roar from the crowd interrupted their conversation. Jane tore his eyes from Lisbon and her green sweater in time to see Derek from Organized Crime approach Susan from Accounting with a sprig of mistletoe Rigsby had just launched into the air with his slingshot. The crowd cheered as Derek gathered Susan from Accounting in his arms with a theatrical flourish and made a show of bending her over his arm to lay a big, sloppy kiss on her.

Rigsby took a swig of his beer and whoop-whooped like he was cheering on a sporting event, grinning like a mad man.

Once he'd set a smug-looking Susan back on her feet, Derek tossed the mistletoe back to Rigsby and shouted, "Time for you to find your next victim, Rigsby!"

Rigsby caught the mistletoe and loaded it back onto his slingshot with a grin. "All right, who's next?" he bellowed, drawing back the slingshot with several experimental tugs as he searched for his next target.

"That's a lawsuit waiting to happen," Lisbon said darkly.

"Oh, come on," said Jane, who thought Derek and Susan from Accounting deserved each other. "It's perfectly harmless."

"Famous last words."

"Relax. Nobody takes this kind of thing seriously at events like this. It's all in good fun." He grinned at her. "What are you so worried about? Afraid you might get caught under the mistletoe?"

Lisbon glowered. "If Rigsby even thinks about coming near me with that thing, he's going to be on guard duty at the Capitol for a month."

"Don't be such a spoilsport. A little kissing would do you good, if you ask me."

Lisbon scowled. "Nobody asked you."

"'You should be kissed, and often, by somebody who knows how,'" Jane quoted.

"Please," Lisbon said, unimpressed. "Kissing someone I work with is the last thing I need, and Rhett Butler was a condescending ass."

"Let Rigsby have his fun," Jane advised. "He's obviously hoping that if he gets enough of his colleagues on the mistletoe bandwagon, Grace will go along with it when he approaches her with the mistletoe at the end of the night and asks her for a Christmas kiss. If everybody else is doing it, it won't seem like such a loaded gesture."

"Hasn't that ship already sailed?" Lisbon said, dubious. "Asking for a kiss from an ex is always going to be a loaded statement, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the pretense that it isn't will help them get on with it without feeling quite as horribly awkward as they would otherwise. And they both secretly want a Christmas kiss from each other, so if they need a convenient holiday appropriate excuse, where's the harm?"

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm just going to pretend we never had this conversation and that the possibility of this has never occurred to me."

"Probably for the best," Jane agreed. He picked up Lisbon's champagne glass from the top of the filing cabinet. "Here. Drink up. This will help you forget." He stole a sip before handing it to her, then made a face. "That's not champagne."

"Sparkling apple cider," Lisbon confirmed. "I told the others I'd give them a ride home at the end of the night."

Typical Lisbon. "Very self-sacrificing of you."

Lisbon shrugged. "They work hard. They deserve to celebrate a bit."

"And who's going to make sure you have a good time?"

Her dimple made an appearance. "I thought that's what you were here for."

Jane's grin broadened. He let the implications of her words sink in, then waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Lisbon, belatedly realizing the connotation that could be placed on her words, blushed. "Oh, shut up," she said, snatching her sparkling cider from him and taking a swig to cover her embarrassment. "You know what I mean."

Jane grabbed a glass of actual champagne from a passing tray and let the matter drop. He took a sip of the champagne and settled in more comfortably at Lisbon's side. "So, seriously. What'd I do to Sanders?"

"I think he heard about what you did to Avery and decided it would be smart to give you a wide berth on general principle," Lisbon told him. "Very wise of him, really. Maybe I should try adopting that policy myself."

"Oh, please," Jane said. "Avery's fine now. And you'd be terribly bored without me."

"I don't know," she said, grinning up at him, her eyes bright. "It could be very beneficial to my mental health."

Her eyes really were the most magnificent shade of green, he reflected. That ridiculous Christmas tree sweater really set them off to advantage.

It was at that moment, when Lisbon was smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling like emeralds, that the mistletoe hit him upside the head.

Jane jerked to the side, startled. Whatever had just hit him in the head fell towards the ground. He reached out to catch it automatically, then stared at the green bundle of leaves in his hand, uncomprehending. He looked up to see Rigsby with his slingshot, blinking at him in equal surprise. Apparently, Jane hadn't been his intended target.

Then Rigsby broke out into a particularly idiotic grin. "Ha," he crowed, pointing at Jane and giggling like a school girl. "Ha, ha—Jane, you gotta kiss the boss now! Ha! Haha!"

"What?" Lisbon said in alarm. "No way. He's the one it hit. I want no part of this." She cast a desperate look around, as though hoping someone would rescue her from the situation, but no one was near enough to provide a convenient cover for escape. A little space around the two of them set her and Jane apart from the rest of the crowd.

Really, Jane thought with some indignation. What he'd done to Avery hadn't been that bad.

"Go on, Lisbon," someone called. "Give him a smooch!"

Lisbon took a fortifying sip of her sparkling apple cider and wagged her index finger at the crowd in the universal gesture for 'no way in hell.'

Jane relaxed. There was no way Lisbon was going to let herself be railroaded into kissing him under the mistletoe by a drunken crowd. He started to see the funny side of the whole thing. The mistletoe upside the head had been a bit of a shock, but now that he had it in his hand, he might as well profit from the opportunity. Teasing Lisbon with the threat of a kiss from him would be far better entertainment than anything he'd had any reasonable right to expect from this event.

His eyes glinting with mischief, he raised the mistletoe over their heads. "How about it, Lisbon? Fancy spreading a little Christmas cheer?"

She shot daggers at him. "No, thanks. Try Susan from Accounting. I'm sure she'd be happy to give you some cheer."

"Really, Lisbon? Trying to foist me off on Susan from Accounting?" he chided her. "That's hardly in keeping with the spirit of generosity and kindness of the holiday season."

"Come on, Lisbon—take pity on the man and kiss him," another voice called from the crowd.

"Yeah, nobody else is going to be brave enough to do it," muttered someone else.

"Lisbon, you're making me look pathetic here," Jane said, shaking the mistletoe over her head.

Lisbon eyed it as though it were about to rain poison on her. "Yet somehow, I think I'll manage to sleep through the night with that on my conscience. In fact, I think the image of you looking pathetic will send me quite happily off to dreamland."

The crowd continued to shout encouragement.

Jane grinned at her. "They're not going to let up, you know. You've made them more interested by resisting. The best thing to do would have been to pretend like the thought of kissing me was no big deal."

"Thanks for the advice," Lisbon said sourly, but she was starting to look hunted as she glanced around at the cheering crowd, which, if possible, seemed to have gotten even louder.

It was a good thing Lisbon hadn't brought her gun to the party, Jane reflected. She might have tried to shoot her way out of the crowd. Starting with him, most likely.

He was about to lower the mistletoe and let her off the hook with a kiss on the cheek when Lisbon seemed to come to some sort of decision.

"Screw it," she muttered. She set her glass down on the filing cabinet. Then she extended her middle finger to the crowd, hooked two fingers into the vee of Jane's vest, and brought his mouth down to hers.

It lasted all of two seconds. A quick brush of the lips—God, her mouth was soft—that was it.

Every millisecond of those two seconds seared themselves into Jane's brain.

He tasted the sparkling cider on her lips—sweet, crisp, and just a little bit tart. Much like Lisbon herself. He wanted more.

The mistletoe hit the floor. Jane reached for her. He was conscious of his hand finding her hip and her hair slipping through his fingers like silk. Then she was gone.

He stood there like an idiot, his hand outstretched where her hair had slipped through his fingers, and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

There seemed to be a lot of whooping and hollering. People around him were grinning and clapping. Lisbon, next to him—she hadn't gone far, then—waved them off, looking only slightly embarrassed. She bent and scooped up the mistletoe from the ground, then lobbed it back into the crowd. Thus ended the spectacle. Everyone laughed and turned their attention to the next victims.

"Looks like you were right," Lisbon said, her voice carefully neutral as she picked up her champagne flute and took another swig.

Jane stared at her, still dazed. "What?"

Her color a bit high, she gestured vaguely in the direction of the crowd. "Just had to show them it was no big deal, didn't we?"

"Right," Jane echoed. He nodded, his brain still fuzzy. "Exactly." He licked his lips. "No big deal."

The crisp taste of apples fizzed on his tongue.