A/N: Hi! Long time no see! Yes, here I am again. I've been struggling for months for the motivation/inspiration to write something, and after catching "White Orchids" on TV the other day, I found both again in this fluffy one-shot, set post-series. Funny how you always go back to the things you love…
Bear Claws
"Teresa, open the door please, so we can talk."
"No," answered the muffled voice of Patrick Jane's very pregnant wife from the other side of the Airstream's door.
Jane patted his pockets, and he recalled his keys were sitting on the small dining table inside the trailer. "You do realize I can very easily pick this lock."
"You do realize I have a gun," she replied in annoyance. Despite his own agitation, Jane grinned. That was his Lisbon, all sass and stubbornness.
He wiped his brow, feeling suddenly very tired. As wonderful as it was that he and Lisbon were married, that she was expecting the miracle of a child—their child—her hormones had been all over the place, and his usual calm and collected wife could suddenly become extremely emotional. He wouldn't repeat the dire mistake of pointing this out now, however. He leaned his forehead against the warm metal door of the Airstream.
"Sweetheart, I said I'm sorry."
"But you're not though, are you? You forget I've known you a long time. I know when you're being sincere."
"Oh, no question I'm growing sorrier by the minute," he muttered to himself, then more loudly: "I'll go to town and get another one, but I'll need my keys..."
"I already called," she said petulantly. "They're sold out. And they're the best ones in Austin. It would be a waste of time to go anywhere else."
"I'm sorry, but when the doctor called earlier and said your test results show you need to cut back on the sugar, I thought I was doing you a favor, removing the temptation." Her glucose levels weren't so high as to be gestational diabetes, but the doctor was being understandably cautious.
"How benevolent of you, but that bear claw was going to be my last indulgence, and you—you took that from me."
He could hear her voice trembling on the verge of tears, and it broke his heart every time she was pushed to this point, no matter the reason. It had started the day before they married, before she'd told him about her pregnancy, when she'd broken down about their out-of-control wedding plans, and it had been so uncharacteristic of her, he should have guessed right then something was up. Since then, no matter how often she became emotional, it tore him up inside.
He himself had felt the pressure of preparing for their child, making the dilapidated cabin livable. They'd had to get all new plumbing and electrical wiring, the roof replaced, the kitchen and bathroom had to be updated, and he'd worked himself to get their bedroom and the nursery ready for the baby's birth next month. The weight of this kind of long-forgotten responsibility felt heavy on his shoulders, and he was more keenly aware of it than he ever had been with his lost family, perhaps because he appreciated it more now than he ever had then, for he knew how easily happiness could be taken away.
A month before, when Lisbon's lease had run out on her apartment, they'd put her things in storage and they'd moved into the Airstream. It was close-quarters, especially for a pair who'd lived alone for so long. When they'd first married, he'd spent most nights at her apartment, but he'd still divided his time between there and the cabin. Winter came, and with it some unusually cold and wet weather that hampered the work on the cabin, so his plans had been pushed back by months.
Jane had initially reverted to working part-time at the FBI, only stepping in when they'd hit brick walls with new cases. Lisbon had continued full-time, but as she'd gotten further along in her pregnancy, she'd been mostly working at her desk. This obviously was extremely frustrating for her, but Cho had been insistent and (in her opinion) overly protective, for which Jane was extremely grateful, but that meant he felt obligated to pick up the slack for Lisbon, so he found himself out in the field full-time again—not where he wanted to be.
Both of them were feeling the strain in a time that should have been the happiest of their lives—newly wed and expecting a baby. The doctor's recommendations for her diet had seemed to be the last straw for his new bride.
"Teresa," he said finally, unable to bear hearing the audible sniffles from within the trailer. "I didn't really eat that bear claw."
The door swung open so fast that he'd barely had time to step down out of the way before it hit him in the face.
"Where the hell is it?" she demanded.
He looked up at her blotchy cheeks and tear bright eyes. "May I come in? Please?"
She stared at him angrily a moment before turning coldly and walking back inside. He climbed the steps again and shut the door behind him, then went to a cabinet in the kitchenette, stretching up beyond her reach to bring down the pastry, still wrapped in the paper the baker had used to put it in the box. He'd planned to throw it away when he took out the trash later, so she wouldn't be the wiser.
"Why did you hide it?" she asked from her place on the fold out bed.
He shrugged as he reluctantly handed it to her. "I explained about the doctor…"
She looked down at the little bundle, then back to her husband and suddenly sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of her all at once. She held it up to her nose and inhaled deeply, then reached out to give it back to him. "Take it," she said. "But could you do me a favor? Eat it and then kiss me, so I can at least have a final taste without all the sugar."
He smiled. "Seriously?"
She nodded. "And I want to watch you eat it too."
He raised an amused eyebrow. "Out of all your little kinks, dear wife, this has to be the kinkiest."
She rolled her eyes at the irony. She loved sex, but they both knew her tastes in the bedroom ran more toward the vanilla, though with Jane, she was learning.
"Just eat it," she ordered, in that long-ago bossy way that he still secretly adored.
He sat by her on the bed and gingerly unwrapped the bear claw, debating if he should reveal one of his other deep, dark secrets. Making his decision, he looked up into her eyes. "I'll do as you ask, but I have a confession to make."
She frowned, visibly bracing herself. "Okay…"
"I hate bear claws."
Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. "You what?"
"I hate them, mainly because of the strong tasting almond stuff in the middle." He allowed her to see his grimace. "They taste like death—which, ironically, is no doubt why cyanide is made from bitter almonds."
"So all these years you've been lying to me—"
"Now wait a second. Did you ever hear me once say that I liked them?"
She thought a moment. "No. I suppose not, not in so many words. But God, Jane, you've been eating half my bear claw almost since we first met, back at the CBI."
"Yes," he said simply.
In the world of law enforcement (cliché for a reason) boxes of donuts and bakery pastries had always been a staple of the break room, and everyone knew, both in the CBI Serious Crimes Unit and now in the FBI's Austin field office, that bear claws were Teresa Lisbon's particular favorite. The funny thing was, she could never finish an entire one, and she claimed that the biggest ones were the best but didn't taste as good if not eaten on the first day, fresh from the bakery. She hated seeing half of her beloved breakfast going to waste, and since no one else liked them (not even Rigsby), Jane had volunteered years ago to share half her morning pastry. In the beginning it had amused him that this simple act pleased her so much, but as the years passed, he'd grown to look forward to their morning ritual, for reasons he used to try to tamp down until recently.
When he allowed himself to admit it to himself, he'd realized he treasured those moments—the extra on-on-one time with her as she sipped her strong coffee, and he his tea, even though he'd had to force himself to eat the nasty things, carefully guarding against any expression of distaste. Also, there were few pleasures she allowed herself to indulge in, and it pleased him equally to oblige her.
"Then why have you always done it?" she asked.
He met here eyes, strangely embarrassed now to admit what he'd suppressed for almost fifteen years. "Because it was an excuse to be close to you, to see you smile, watch the sheer enjoyment on your face as you ate them."
"And all this time, you hated them," she said in wonder.
"Yep."
The dawning of what this meant brought renewed tears to her eyes. "You loved me, even then."
He nodded solemnly, felt a tightness in his throat. "Yes," he said hoarsely, reaching for her hand. "Of course I did."
She caressed his cheek and its second-day stubble. How many other clues of his true feelings had she once failed to see, too blinded and confused by the other seemingly thoughtless things he did—used to do—when he was trying to get his way, especially back when Red John had been an issue?
She shook her head. "You don't have to eat them anymore." She moved to take back the pastry, but before she could grab it, he unwrapped the dreaded thing and took a big bite.
"Jane—"
He chewed methodically, swallowed, then took another bite before tossing the damn thing into the nearby wastebasket.
"Now," he began, having swallowed that bite too, "about that kinky kiss you promised…"
She grinned and met his seeking lips. He tasted of almond paste, amaretto, and Jane, and she swirled her tongue in his mouth, savoring the sweetness of all three distinct flavors. A very different set of hormones infused her body, and she clung to him, demanding more, which he gave without hesitation. There were breathless chuckles as they worked around her big belly to make love, but they quickly found a way that more than suited them both.
Later, his wife curled against his side, he felt her smile against his chest.
"I can't believe you forced yourself to eat bear claws…just for me."
"Do I ever do anything completely selfless?" he reminded her, kissing her temple. "It was as much for me as for you, I assure you."
"Well, please don't do that anymore. I hate to think of all your years of suffering."
"Hey woman, you're not the boss of me; I'll do what I want."
She gave a contradictory sniff. "Like you ever did what I asked, even when I was literally the boss of you." Long ago and far away at the CBI.
He smiled wryly. "True. But on this matter, I shall continue to take one for the team, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"I can stop eating them altogether. I gave up caffeinated coffee, didn't I?"
He shuddered, remembering the first few weeks of that nightmare. Coupled with her pregnancy hormones, The Exorcist had nothing on her.
"Lisbon, you have two addictions—coffee and bear claws. And while for the sake of your health and that of our growing child you must abstain for the next month or so, I fully expect you to gleefully fall off the wagon the moment our baby arrives."
"Three," she said softly.
"Hm?"
She shifted awkwardly so she could see his face, touched his cheek with unabashed love. "Three addictions, Patrick, and one of them, I know I can never give up."
"Soon to be four," he said softly, caressing the rippling movements of their baby boy beneath his hand. He smiled at the dreamy expression in her eyes, felt his own misting over with happiness. Just before he kissed her, he wondered if this gestational sentimentality thing was catching.
The End.
A/N: Yes, it might seem stereotypical to make a pregnant woman crazy with hormone imbalances, but let me tell you, from personal experience, the struggle is real (Just ask my husband). Thanks for "bearing" with me in this sort of meandering tale. It feels so good to write again. Please let me know if you enjoyed it.