A/N: Surprise! And you thought this story was over. I admit I succumbed to peer pressue—Nerwen Aldarion and SteeleSimz coerced me on Twitter into writing an epilogue dealing with the mention of a certain couch.

This by no means advances the plot in any way. It is pure, slightly M-rated fluff. I hope you enjoy it. Waterbaby was wise to take neither credit nor blame for it, lol. Thanks again for reading!

Epilogue

One month later...

It was a brilliant plan, if Lisbon did say so herself. Jane-esque, even. She'd planned it for a week, down to making sure that the three nightshift security guards would be eating the sub sandwiches she'd had delivered as an overdue thank-you for their hard work (paid out of her own pocket, of course). While they were eating, she'd snuck into the deserted camera monitor room, redirected camera fourteen, and clicked pause .

The rest of the team was long gone—she'd given them an early night. It wasn't as if they didn't work overtime most other days, so she wasn't really feeling any guilt about ripping off the state of California. She'd told Jane she was working late, however, which usually meant, after much grumbling, that he would wait for her while snoozing on his couch.

She waited until the first guard had made his rounds through the Serious Crimes Unit—6:15, right on schedule. He waved at her in her office before she saw him head for the stairs. She knew it would be another hour before he came through again. By then, the deed would be done.

Five minutes before the planned attack, she'd peeked in to be sure that Jane was asleep, then she tiptoed into the bullpen, closing and locking both possible exits from the inside with the safety deadbolt. Lastly, she turned off all the lights and made her way over to where her sleeping prince lay.

It was a good thing she knew the office like the back of her hand, for there was no moon this night spilling romantically in through the window, and except for the faint light in the distant elevator landing, the place was black as pitch. She heard Jane's deep breathing, and hesitated about awakening him. Then she hesitated some more about what she was about to do—so unlike her and her desire to be highly professional in the office. She'd nearly changed her mind about the whole thing, when suddenly, two hands reached out and pulled her on top of Jane's warm body.

She gasped in surprise to find herself in that position much more quickly than she'd imagined.

"Don't stop now," he whispered in amusement. His herbal tea laden breath fanned her hot cheeks. "Not after you've planned everything so flawlessly. Well, up to this point, anyway."

"Dammit, Jane!" she hissed. "This was supposed to be a surprise."

She felt his chest vibrate with his soft laughter. "You forget you're dealing with the master, sweetheart."

She struggled to get up now, the excitement of the plan quickly draining away, but he held her tightly on top of him. He was so infuriating. But then she felt his own excitement beneath her wiggling hips, and she decided that perhaps the operation might continue after all; she merely needed to adapt to changing conditions. That's what all good agents must do in the field, right?

"I take it this was a set up for the little fantasy you used to have about me and good old Trixie here."

"Trixie? You've named your damn couch too? Trixie sounds like a hooker's name."

"Yes, but an old hooker's name. One who's been around a while, seen it all, who's used to the weight of a man's body upon her. She's soft in the middle and nicely broken in."

"Her hide's a little leathery though," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. He felt instantly contrite.

"I'm sorry I ruined your surprise, Lisbon."

His hands loosened from her upper arms to slip beneath her t-shirt and caress the bare skin beneath. "But I was afraid you were going to chicken out, and I definitely didn't want that to happen. Things were starting to go very well for me..."

She sighed and rested her cheek on his chest. "In my fantasy," she began, and she heard his heart pick up a little beneath her ear. "I would find you alone on the couch, no one else around. I'd awaken you with my hands on your...zipper."

He swallowed as her hand slid lower to rest between their bodies, a hair's breadth away from the fastening of his trousers.

"Please, Lisbon," he murmured, "Do go on. I'm captivated."

Her hand stilled. "You know, in my fantasy you were asleep. Your talking is just ruining the mood."

"What?"

"I'd see you lying on the couch sometimes, so beautiful with your angelic curls and that hot mouth of yours."

"Lisbon—" His breath was coming in soft pants now.

"Your silent, hot mouth."

"All right, all right. I get it. I'll just go back to sleep." He fell silent, and Lisbon waited in exasperation until, after a few seconds had passed, he began to snore lightly.

She abruptly got off the couch, her elbow inadvertently jabbing into his stomach. He let out a pained "Ooff."

"Okay, mood's totally lost now," she exclaimed.

"Hey, don't go! I was being quiet. I was sleeping."

"You never snore, Jane, especially not in my fantasy. This was a bad idea—"

"Come on, Lisbon. Please don't stop. I'll shut up and remain perfectly still; do with me whatever you will. Hey, that rhymed."

"For the love of God, Jane."

He was quiet and motionless now, feigning sleep again by not replying.

"Jane?"

No answer. She knelt beside the couch, trying to work herself into the excitement she'd felt minutes before. It really didn't take long once she reached out a tentative hand to touch him. His breathing hitched a bit, but admirably, he remained quiet. She smiled in the darkness. Only this man could simultaneously make her angry, hot and amused just by laying on a couch.

Her hand brushed over his fly, felt his burgeoning desire beneath the soft fabric. Oh, she was back on her mission now, for sure. She used both hands to undo the metal clasp at the top of his pants, then she slowly pulled down the zipper. It sounded very loud in the empty bullpen.

Beneath his boxer briefs he was hot and hard, and she ran her hand along his length while she felt him tense and struggle to remain still. After a few moments, her hand went to his waistband and she slipped it inside, her fingers finding him, caressing his velvety skin while he no longer even tried to pretend he was sleeping, if his rasping breath was any indication. So much for biofeedback, she thought wickedly.

She went to pull down his pants and underwear and realized her imagination had left out a vital detail—there was no way she could remove his garments unless he lifted his hips.

"Okay, so you can wake up now," she whispered. She heard his soft chuckle and he complied with her unspoken demand, his hips coming up off the couch. She pulled down his clothing just far enough to access what she'd long dreamed about.

"Why do I feel like we should be in a swimming pool, and that Kyle's flashlight will be shining on us at any minute?"

"Because you, dear Lisbon, are addicted to danger."

She snorted a little, and he found it suddenly hard to speak as she resumed sliding her hands up and down. Then her mouth took their place and he moaned. It didn't stop him talking though, or trying to.

"That's...why...oh, Teresa...you're a...uh...uh..." He'd lost his train of thought and she removed her mouth. He gasped in protest.

"A cop?" she finished for him.

"Yessss...and why the hell are you stopping?"

Her mouth returned to his hot skin and he nearly came undone as her laughter hummed around him. Things were beginning to feel way too good for Jane to control himself, and he forced his body to calm down a bit, but she ramped up her efforts in response and he was lost.

Afterward, he lay still on the couch, unable to move even if he'd wanted to. She'd slid his briefs up over him again and lay down upon his limp body, kissing him gently on the lips before resting her head on his chest once more. She listened as his heart went from its near-maniacal pounding to a more regular rhythm, and one shaky hand came up to rest on her back, the other to slide through her silken hair.

"So that was really your fantasy, eh?" he asked in mild amusement. "It didn't seem like there was much in it for you."

She turned her head, resting her chin on his chest, straining to see him through the blackness. "Oh yes," she said. "Patrick Jane, completely at my mercy. I could touch him in any way I liked, and he would let me. I would finally know what was beneath those conservative suits, feel that gorgeous hair, kiss those sensual lips. Yeah, that was pretty much my fantasy in a nutshell."

Her hands delved into his curls and she found that mouth, nipping at its fullness before sliding her tongue out to taste him.

"Hmmm," he murmured, wanting her again. "Why didn't you ever act on it?" he suggested against her lips. "I would have been quite amenable, I promise you."

"You would?" she said in surprise, drawing back a little. "I was afraid to even contemplate doing something like this. I didn't even suspect you might think of me in that way until you said you loved me, well, before you pretended to shoot me, that is. Even then I was hesitant to read too much into it, especially when you denied you even remembered..."

"I'm sorry, Lisbon, for all the times I must have sent you mixed messages. But trust me when I tell you that I've had plenty of fantasies of my own about you, despite my best efforts not to."

"Oh?" she said, and she moved her hips enticingly, thrilled with the possibility of a second round so soon.

"I did awaken on this couch in a cold sweat one time," he told her, his hands moving to knead her bottom, effectively pushing her more tightly against his renewed desire. "Having had a wonderful dream about you and those lovely, talented little hands of yours."

"Oh?" she said, her voice going low and whiskey smooth. "What was I doing with them?" Her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt, then moved on lower, to his vest.

"You were...making me...a sandwich..."

She stopped her unbuttoning. "What?" she growled in warning.

He laughed. "Would it help if I said you were naked?"

She punched him in the arm. Hard. "Ow! Lisbon, can't you take a joke?"

She no longer took her time with his buttons, but tore open his finely tailored vest, practically ripping his designer dress shirt to reveal his smoothly defined chest to her seeking hands. She heard the sound of buttons bouncing on the floor.

"I'll make you a sandwich," she threatened.

Jane laughed. "What does that even mean?"

She sat up and slipped her t-shirt over her head, then reached around to unhook her bra. She fell forward heavily on top of him again.

"You'll see," she promised. She swallowed his rejoinder with her mouth.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Mick," said Joe, the CBI night guard. "We got another one."

Joe sat in his chair before the camera monitors, finishing his last bite of the sandwich Agent Lisbon had so kindly provided. He'd seen immediately that the pause button had been pressed on one of the office cameras.

"Which camera," asked Mick, standing behind him to look at the monitor in question.

"Fourteen."

"Aww. Serious Crimes. Haven't seen any action there in awhile."

"Not since Cho and his blonde bimbo went at it in the stairwell."

Mick chuckled. "Yeah, and we'd have to go back another year for Rigsby and that redhead—Van Pelt. They had a certain affinity for the men's room, if I recall."

"And the interrogation room."

"And the janitor's closet." Both men laughed at the memory. "Good times."

"Well, who is it now?" Joe asked, squinting into the darkened bullpen as they refocused the camera around the room.

"There they are, on the couch. Ha. Definitely a little something goin' on there." They couldn't see exactly what was happening in the darkness, but they could certainly guess, since the action was taking place on Jane's notorious couch.

"I bet it's Jane and Agent Lisbon."

"What?"

"Where the hell have you been? It's all over the CBI. The consultant and the senior agent, finally getting it on."

"Well that explains the sandwiches," Mick said, grabbing a napkin and wiping the last vestiges of mustard from his moustachioed lips. "And it's about the hell time, if you asked me. Those two have been circling each other like two dogs in heat for years."

"Hey, Agent Lisbon is a classy dame. And Jane always remembers my name, unlike most of the sticks-up-their-asses in this building." He reached past Mick to flip off the power to camera fourteen. "Let's give them some privacy."

"Damn, you're easy. You'd sell out your own mother for a sandwich..."

THE END...For real this time.