A/N: Funny what plot bunnies run through your mind when you have a migraine, isn't it?
Title: Handcuffed
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Lisbon/Jane, Team
Spoilers: None
Summary: One way to keep Jane out of trouble…
Disclaimer: Not mine. I have a migraine I'm trying to get rid of, though. Any takers?
Notes: PhoenixWytch's prompts 001: Lisbon's handcuffs
Handcuffed
Agent Cho raised an eyebrow, Van Pelt gasped in shock and Rigsby had to stifle his laughter. Their boss had just handcuffed the irrepressible Patrick Jane to the wrought iron headboard of a hotel bed and left him there. Worst of all, they all knew what she was wearing. Her little black dress was enough to get anyone hot under the collar - even Jane - and all part of the undercover plan they had meticulously worked out.
Cho raised his eyes to the heavens. He knew full well there'd been enough sexual tension between the pair to melt said wrought iron. He only hoped when Lisbon returned to the hotel room where Jane was currently held against his own wishes, that she'd remember to switch off the hidden camera and microphone.
(Cho partially hoped something would come of it. It was bad enough that Van Pelt and Rigsby weren't bold enough to sort themselves out.)
***
Jane pouted as Lisbon headed back towards the door, but not without checking the gun she had safely concealed.
"Lisbon?"
"Yes, Jane?"
"How are you going to cuff the suspect without…"
He gesticulated towards the handcuffs tightly wrapped around his wrists. This was all rather embarrassing. Whilst he did have a lot of respect for Lisbon, it was all well and good when someone else was on the receiving end. But having just had her tackle him to the bed whilst the others watched through the hidden camera, was another thing entirely.
(against his own wishes, he'd often had dreams of Lisbon and her handcuffs. None of them happened like this, though.)
Lisbon grinned at him. "I have Cho's. Now, try and get some sleep or something. I'll see you later."
Damn that woman. Just because she didn't want him to piss off the suspect and have him make a run for it. It didn't mean she had to handcuff him to a bloody bed of all things. He could be quiet. Sometimes. And he didn't annoy everyone he met. Not on purpose anyway.
And it didn't help that the idea of a murderer flirting with his Lisbon sickened him to the stomach.
(strange, that if it had been Van Pelt undercover, he wouldn't have minded quite so much.)
***
Lisbon smiled, fluttered her eyelashes and attempted to wrap the suspect around her little finger. He grinned back in return and asked her outside for a breath of fresh air. Blushing slightly, she agreed. It was only after he admitted to his crimes (after he'd surreptitiously drawn a gun on her), that she whispered the codeword which sent the team into action.
(she nearly succeeded; he was a clever bastard and could tell that her heart wasn't really in it.)
The bullet winged her, and she knew it would require medical attention later. It took her seconds to have her own gun trained on him as Rigsby flattened him, and Van Pelt handed dealt with the cuffs. They were all relieved; that could have gone horribly wrong - none of them knew how they'd have coped without their Senior Agent in action.
***
She may have told him to get some rest, but Jane was attempting to pick the lock on Lisbon's handcuffs. Picking locks required a knack, and that was significantly hampered with hands restrained behind the back. Harry Houdini was some kind of miracle man, obviously.
When he heard the shot fired from somewhere below, in the courtyard, his entire body stiffened. Lock picking could wait. That was either an incredibly good sign, or an incredibly bad one.
(Jane had a sneaky suspicion what the outcome would be, but dreaded the alternative.)
When he heard the various voices of the entire team, each shouting to be heard over the others, he couldn't help but be relieved.
Now, all he had to play was the waiting game. Lisbon wouldn't be cruel enough to leave him tied up all night. Would she?
***
It was several hours after all the action when she did decide to return.
(Jane had been beginning to think she had left him. Bitch.)
His grin slid from his face as he saw the bandage around her upper right arm. He thought they'd all been fine. It was virtually unheard of for any of the team, least of all the infallible Teresa Lisbon, to pick up an injury. Even with the bandage and especially with her dress slightly askew, she looked beautiful. And there was still that cheeky glint in her eyes.
"Hang on a second."The microphone and hidden camera were turned off and safely put out of sight.
(somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, Cho breathed out a sigh of relief. There are just some things about your co-workers you don't want to know.)
"I get the impression Cho seems to think something is going to happen between us tonight," she offered by way of explanation.
Jane wriggled uncomfortably on the bed as she tentatively approached him. He'd been sitting still - relatively speaking for quite some time. And that did nothing for the circulation. He gulped slightly as he watched the sway of her hips, not even noticing her withdraw the key to the handcuffs.
(he hadn't realised just how much he wanted this. For goodness knows how long, he'd been telling himself otherwise. And now, she was tormenting him, god-dammit.)
She was so tantalisingly close to him, he could smell the delicious mix of sandalwood and cinnamon scent she wore on special occasions. His eyes darkened as she inched closer to him. He tried to decipher every little twitch of her mouth whilst his brain just refused to operate in a sane manner.
His hands were suddenly free from behind his back. He tested them tentatively as she began to saunter off.
"Wait."
She turned on the balls of her feet as he called for her to stay, desperately so.
(this still wasn't how he imagined it. He didn't care.)
His lips crashed hungrily against hers. Once she regained her senses and realised what Patrick Jane was doing to her, she raised her hands and allowed her fingers to run through his blond curls. She'd always imagined he'd be a good kisser - but even an over-active imagination couldn't have pinpointed the exact mix of passion and fury that he managed to convey.
They both knew it was wrong, but as he took her hand and led her back to the bed, she followed anyway.
(seemed Cho was right after all. Though, they didn't quite manage to literally melt the iron bed frame…)
end