Disclaimer: I still don't own The mentalist, and I still don't know who Red John is :P
It's been a horrible day. She woke up to the news of a homicide, that too early in the morning. Then she learnt that she is being "shipped" with someone that she can't be with in the same room for longer than five minutes without frowning. All day long her team couldn't make any progress in the investigation, and Jane kept his hunches to himself. Add in the horrible sandwich in between, and you've got a wonderfully disastrous day.
So when she manages to be in the driver's seat this time, she's extremely happy to say the least. Actually, happy would be an understatement. She's thrilled. Finally she has her hands on her steering wheel, and finally Jane will have to ride shot-gun. She knows it's a childish thing to be happy about, but Jane can be childishly stubborn at times, so she's allowed to be childish too.
Jane settles for shot-gun without protest, and turns on the AC in her air. She's really glad he doesn't turn on the radio; she doesn't need music blasting while she is trying to drive safely. Jane touching every part of her car is distraction in itself.
She changes her mind about the radio when the silence begins to grow between them though. She wonders why Jane isn't saying anything. She wants to start a conversation, but the only thing that comes to her mind is asking him who the killer is, and that is exactly what she's been managing to ask him all day, so not again. She'll settle for the radio. Hello… some teen pop star, scream more loudly please!
Jane winces at the music, and turns down the volume a bit, so that he can speak over it. "I didn't know you liked this kind of music, Lisbon…"
"I don't." she mumbles, rolling her eyes, "Change the station."
"Mind if I turn it off?" he asks softly.
She nods quickly, kind of relieved that now she won't go deaf.
He turns off the radio and she waits for him to speak, but he doesn't, and once again the silence begins to gnaw at her skin. So she clears her throat and begins speaking. "So what do you want for dinner?"
He quirks up an eyebrow curiously. "I thought dinner was on me?"
She sighs, shaking her head at how silly this is. "Well I figure if I can cook for one, I might as well cook for two." She mumbles, remembering to put on the fake frown on her face.
"Thank you, Lisbon", he says sincerity, giving her a warm smile. She turns her head to look at him and return the smile. Only, her eyes get stuck and she ends up staring at him for a bit longer than five seconds. She quickly looks away with a nod.
The rest of the drive is silent. It should have been an awkward silence, but surprisingly, it's very comfortable. Just like any other day. She parks the car, gets out, makes him swear that he won't look while she takes out the guns she hides in her car. She'd have to relocate them the next day anyway. Never trust Jane.
She opens the door to her apartment and invites him in, and he makes himself at home at once. He has been here before, more than once, this is not the first time, and thanks to his memory palace, he remembers every detail. He begins by rushing to the kitchen and starting to make coffee for them.
She keeps her grin to herself. It's good to have someone make her coffee when she gets home for a change. Usually, she'd just settle for beer while she watches crappy television shows.
She takes off her wallet, drops her keys, and picks up her home clothes. "I'm just gonna go change." She informs him, turning her smile into a frown and adding a glare. "Don't touch anything, Jane. Don't make me regret this." She warns.
He only shrugs and dismisses her with a wave of his hand and continues memorizing the things in her shelf.
She changes into her jimmies- the non-fluffy ones, she's not going to let him tease her about it later- and is pleasantly surprised when she finds two sandwiches alongside her cup of coffee.
"I bet these taste worse than the ones we had in the morning", she jokes, grinning at him as she takes a bite.
"Nah-uh", he grins back, "I cook for myself, remember? Years of practice can make you an expert cook, Lisbon."
She only nods, not sure what else to say. Some old wounds just don't go away, and she's learnt to live with them. Loneliness can be such a bitch, she knows it too well. "These do taste good", she admits. "Then why don't you fix yourself sandwiches for breakfast?"
He eyes her curiously. "How do you know I don't?"
"I saw you eating candy bar today, Jane." She reminds him.
He shrugs. "I don't like cooking for myself in the mornings. Brings back too many memories…. It used to be my wife's job. She'd make the best sandwiches ever."
She smiles softly, nodding her head again. "I understand."
She's quiet for a moment, letting him have his run at the memory lane. Who is she to try to drag him out? Who is she to want to drag him out?
She frowns when she notices that his hands have stilled on the table and he's not eating anymore. Now this is awkward. This isn't exactly what she had in mind. She looks at his face, notices his eyes narrowed in the way it does when he's reminiscing that face of blood he saw on the walls of his house years back.
She knows nothing she can say can nurse that wound. So she decides to just hold his hand instead. She's always thought touches were comforting.
He shakes out of his trance at the touch, and glances down at her hand. The pain quickly dissipates from his eyes and he lets out a sigh, squeezing her hand back as a gesture of thanks.
It's quiet again for a while, when he resumes eating and finishes it, offers to do the dishes which Lisbon gladly accepts. She helps him though.
They don't splash bubbles at each other, because that would be extremely childish, right? They're colleagues, they are supposed to stay…. professional.
When what is he doing at her home for dinner? A voice inside her head asks her. She ignores it and scrubs her dish harder, frowning at herself. Bad brain!
He's Jane though, and he just has to mess with her, he has to touch the tip of her nose with his soapy hands. She closes her eyes and hisses, fights back the urge to start the fight. Instead, she settles in front of the TV.
He joins her, without an invitation- he doesn't need any, he's made himself at home, remember? "You watch MTV?" he asks in disbelief.
"No", she replies quickly, and switches channels.
He grins. "Then why was your TV set to MTV Lisbon?" he teases.
She groans at him, one hand going out to smack his shoulder. That's when she notices how stiff he's being. "Loosen up a bit", she says casually, gesturing at his shoes and socks.
"Okay", he shrugs, taking off his coat, and his shoes, and placing his legs on the table in front.
She pauses for a moment, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks, and then she has made up her mind. She places her legs on his lap, on the other end of the couch.
He eyes it for a moment, and she starts regretting it, but he doesn't say anything, so she doesn't feel the need to move it. It's weird how out of character she's being, how chilled out he makes her feel. But they're not in office now, they're not working, so it's…. okay.
He speaks again after a while, now resting his hands behind his head and relaxing. "Didn't you say you'd cook?"
She shushes him quickly, focusing on the scene playing out in the TV. After a while she answers. "Yeah, I will. Not right now. We just had the sandwiches. Don't tell me you're hungry so soon!" she snarls, glaring at him.
He holds his hands up in surrender and makes a show of gulping. No messing with Lisbon in her house. Who knows, maybe she'll actually punch him not that they're off duty? Eeks.
A/N: sorry it took me a while to get this chapter up. I was just trying to make plot development. Hope you liked it. PLEASE review. Thanks for all the encouragement people :)