Warning: More explicit stuff in this one...


Disclaimer: I do not own the quotations used in this chapter and I mean the rightful owners no disrespect by using them - quite the contrary in fact.


A/N: This is a slightly longer chapter as I found no good place to cut it, but I'm sure you won't be too disappointed about that... I would mostly describe it as the fluffy calm before the storm that's gonna come in the next chapters with the plot tightening... but it's not pure fluff. Anyway, enjoy!


"Wow, that's a blissful smile," he stated after their kiss had ended. "I mean, the kiss was good, no doubt about that. I'm an expert kisser after all, and a charming, handsome fellow as well, but that's a very special little smile you have going there."

Her smile brightened even more. "Idiot," she scolded, but it sounded much more like an endearment. "I love you, Patrick. I don't have the words to tell you how much." She spoke seriously though her smile was still bright and blissful.

He caressed her cheek tenderly and to her further delight, he started to sing softly with his beautiful tenor, "Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand. / All you have to do is close your eyes / And just reach out your hands and touch me / Hold me close don't ever let me go / More than words is all I ever needed you to show / Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me / 'Cause I'd already know."

Another passionate kiss and arms that held him as close as possible were the reward for his effort. "Our song," she whispered afterwards.

"Is it?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "In my head it's always been, ever since our dance back at that high school reunion case. It's how I felt. I couldn't admit my feelings, wasn't ready to put them into words, but I've tried to show you."

"Yes you have, Teresa. Always having my back and putting up with my little games. Being there for me, kicking my ass when necessary. Yes, you have shown me. And I appreciate that." He smiled at her. Teasingly, he added, "And the song isn't too bad, so it can just as well be ours."

She slapped his chest playfully. "It's not just not bad, it's a very nice song. And now I've even gotten that tremendously handsome, but mean and cold-hearted guy I never dared to speak to but worshipped from afar."

"Yes, mean and cold-hearted, that's me. You know, Lisbon, you have quite the memory. Not bad at all," he praised her.

"I remember all of the most significant moments between us, Jane. And that was our first dance," she said, voice dreamy. "And you're not mean and cold-hearted, you only pretend to be," she scolded him.

He chuckled. "No chance fooling you. So, Agent Lisbon, what should be the song for our second dance? I'm sure you've it all figured out already, haven't you?"

She blushed. "How did you know? Ah, forget I even asked…" She huffed.

"Come on, Teresa, don't pull such a face just because you're an open book to me. On the bright side, I've really no idea which song you've picked out as our second," he teased her.

"Actually, it's not our second. It's yours," she mumbled, blush still present.

"Mine? I have a song? I mean, you have a song for me? How delightfully exciting. Wait, is it 'Who Do You Think You Are' from your buddies the Spice Girls maybe, or even better: 'Cold, Cold Heart,' that Hank Williams one?" he suggested with an eager grin.

She shook her head. "No. Though your second choice could've been an option, I'll grant you that. But considering our current situation it's a bit off, wouldn't you agree? Seems to me like that cold, cold heart of yours has pretty much melted…"

He smiled warmly, "Like ice cream in the summer sun, my dear. Now spit it out, what's this song of mine?"

Her blushed returned full force and she quickly hid her face on his chest. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you," she mumbled.

"Oh, come on. No fair," he whined, his hands buried in her hair massaging her scalp. "How am I supposed to dance with you to the sound of it without knowing which one it is? Is it that bad?"

"It's not bad," she muttered. "It's just a bit embarrassing I guess, and very personal. I've been thinking of it as yours and in a way mine for so long…"

"Now I'm really intrigued, Teresa. You know I'll find out anyway, sooner or later. I'm gonna nag you with my prying until you're so annoyed you'll do anything to shut me up. So you better confess now before I become totally insufferable."

She sighed and grumbled, "I know. That's why I should have never mentioned anything. But alright. Have to face the inevitable I guess. It's 'True Colors' from Cyndi Lauper." Her blush intensified.

"I think I may have heard it. But I'll have to look up the lyrics," he admitted. "Doesn't really ring a bell."

"You wanna hear it?" she inquired carefully. "I've got it on my cell phone," she confessed quietly, face a picture of embarrassment.

"Sure. Let's hear it," he answered, looking very excited.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand where Patrick had placed it earlier while undressing her. She fumbled a bit with the buttons, nervous and insecure about how he would take this. She'd found a beautiful unplugged version on the net one day and downloaded it. A moment later the song started to play and they both listened avidly:

'You with the sad eyes / Don't be discouraged / Oh, I realize / It's hard to take courage / In a world full of people / You can lose sight of it all / And the darkness all inside you / Can make you feel so small / But I see your true colors / Shining through / I see your true colors /And that's why I love you / So don't be afraid to let them show / Your true colors / True colors / Are beautiful like a rainbow

Show me a smile then, / Don't be unhappy / Can't remember when / I last saw you laughing / If this world makes you crazy / And you've taken all you can bear / You call me up / Because you know I'll be there / And I'll see your true colors / Shining through / I see your true colors / And that's why I love you / So don't be afraid to let them show / Your true colors / Your true colors / Are beautiful like a rainbow.'

During the repeat of the last refrain, they'd started to kiss, or rather he'd pulled her into a kiss, a sweet one, slow and deep.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, when the last notes had trailed of. "I'm really touched. It's…" he swallowed audibly, eyes glazed with unshed tears, " It's beautiful."

"No, Patrick. You are. You're beautiful," she answered, voice thick with emotion. She pulled him into another kiss.


They just lay in the increasing darkness of the bedroom in silence, enjoying each other's presence, lazily caressing and fondling each other. At least half an hour went by this way, before Patrick spoke up. "Teresa? I really don't want to upset you again, but I think we should finish our earlier conversation. It's just going to stand between us otherwise and I don't want that. I hope, we can find some common ground on this." He stroked her back in soothing circles.

"You are surprisingly good at all this relationship stuff, Patrick. Very mature," she said with a bit of awe in her voice.

He cast her a somewhat offended look. "Come on, Lisbon. I was married, for heaven's sake. For nearly ten years. We even raised a child together. Give me some credit."

She felt thoroughly chastised, and rightfully so, she had to admit. He had a lot more experience when it came to being with someone than she had. At the age when she'd felt herself to be too young and adventurous to settle down with Greg and had run like a coward the moment things got really serious, the man holding her had already been in a committed relationship with his future wife. Hell, he had provided for Angela so she could go to college and managed to hold things together under difficult circumstances.

Lisbon had absolutely no right to question his abilities when it came to making a love attachment work. Her face was very apologetic when she addressed him again. "Sorry, Patrick. You're right of course. You're actually much better at this than I am, and much more experienced as well. And I have to agree with you. We should talk the matter through, though I have absolutely no idea how to resolve this issue."

He pecked her on the nose. "You're forgiven. I know, it's easy to forget that I can behave like an adult on occasion when my normal conduct indicates a much younger personality." He smirked.

She had to laugh out loud. "That's a very elegant and diplomatic way of putting it, imp." But turning serious again she added, "Still, I shouldn't forget that you're a mature man because I have seen enough evidence of it. And frankly, I wouldn't be with you otherwise. I'm not a pedophiliac after all." The last part was accompanied by a wink.

He chuckled. "I certainly hope not. And at least my body isn't particularly childlike in my humble opinion…"

"No, it certainly isn't," she agreed, wiggling her hips a bit to tease an especially manly part of his anatomy.

He groaned. "Stop that, woman. Or we'll never have that conversation, I'm afraid."

She pretended to contemplate that for a moment, continuing her slight stimulation. "It would be an easy way out… But as we're both so very mature, maybe rather not…"

He was half-hard by now, but she knew he would be able to compose himself again quickly. She'd not aroused him beyond the point of no return. "You are a little minx, Teresa. But you and I will have that talk now, because I won't go to sleep tonight with the matter still hanging over us. So, about my contract: I don't want you to get involved. I really mean it, Lisbon. I want you to let it go." He looked very earnest and determined.

Her returning glare was at least equally as stubborn. "I don't know if I can, Jane."

He sighed heavily. "Then please tell me exactly how you perceive the situation. Maybe if I know what has you so concerned, I will be able to assuage your fears." He cupped her cheek and forced her to keep eye contact with him.

So she told him how she couldn't stand to think that he'd assumed she would accept his awful working conditions, that it pained her to know he disregarded himself and his work like that, and how it seemed like he'd thought she did so as well. How horrible it was for her to know that he'd had to believe her job meant more to her than his wellbeing did. And it just wasn't right that a man who actually saved lives with his abilities and made the world a safer place didn't even earn enough money to get by.

When she was finished, he looked at her seriously. "Teresa, have you ever taken the time and looked at it from my point of view?"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes, all the time. That's what I've been trying to tell you, and…"

He interrupted her with a finger to her lips. "No, Teresa. You haven't. Not really."

She was shocked into silence, eyes big as saucers. "But… I…" she stammered helplessly.

"Would you let me explain, love?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Well, I have to admit that the time in Bertram's office, when he contrived that offending piece of paper telling me he wanted to teach me a lesson in humbleness for once - it was rather humiliating." The utter disgust on his face was nearly tangible. "Not one of my fondest memories, to be honest. But Teresa, please try to look at the situation. Really look at it!" He pleaded with her, his eyes and his voice urging her to listen and understand.

"You claim you can't live with fact that I might have believed you thought your job was more important to you than my happiness. Is that right?" She nodded eagerly. "Please turn that sentence around for once. Or rather I will do it for you: I can't live with the fact that you might think money or better working conditions would be more important to me than your happiness, Teresa."

He paused for a moment to give her time to absorb that. Her eyes grew wide, when comprehension slowly dawned on her face. "Yes, Teresa. Your job, your team – that's a big part of your happiness."

He pecked her lips, but re-initiated eye contact with her again right afterwards. "You might call it disregard for my own worth, but I'd like to call it regard for yours. I'd like to think I'm not so shallow I'd leave my best friend out in the cold just to earn a bit more money or avoid swallowing my pride in front of an arrogant asshole like Bertram."

She needed a moment to collect herself fully, but then she nodded. "I think I understand, Patrick. I might not like it, but I understand. And thank you. I appreciate it. I really do. It's just hard to comprehend. And we will think of something to change this contract, make no mistake, but I won't force the issue and you'll call the shots, okay?"

He cast her a beautiful smile. "That's all I'm asking. Look at the bright side. I'm sure the tides will turn again and Bertram won't be the director forever. I promise, I'll be an adamant negotiator for my own rights when the opportunity arises."


They sealed it with a kiss. "But Patrick? I would feel a lot better, if you told me how you make ends meet. I know that it's none of my business, but…"

"Hush, my dear. It's no big secret. I don't mind you knowing it," he reassured her, playing with her hair and locking eyes with her. "Well, as I gave away most of my liquid means after my family died, my worldly possessions are limited to what you already know about. I have some personal stuff in storage still. Couldn't really get myself to go through it yet. But other than that: I have the house and the cars. And a cottage in the mountains, which I rent out on occasion – one of my sources of income."

Teresa listened attentively, soaking up all the new information about her secretive lover. "So to support myself during the last years I've sold a few of my vintage cars. And I'm doing some freelance work during my off-time for a car repair shop which specializes in vintage cars."

She looked at him with honest astonishment. He was really full of surprises. "Yes, Teresa. I like to fix up old cars. It's a dear hobby of mine. I've actually restored all the cars I own myself. Some of them together with Angie." He got a far-away look. "Julie was our first," he divulged. "Faithful old Julie." He smiled fondly. "She was just a pile of junk when we bought her for $100, and look at her now."

Lisbon caught on immediately, suddenly getting a whole new understanding for the nearly absurd connection Jane had with his beloved Citroen. She scolded herself for not figuring it out sooner. Most of the things he did that looked irrational on the outside usually held a deeper meaning. At heart, her Patrick was a big romantic – she'd known that about him for years. With a devious grin, she decided to call him a senti-mentalist from now on… He would love that one – she was sure.


"Am I amusing you, Teresa?" he asked, raising his brows.

"In a way. But not like you might think. I think it's very touching. I mean, the car thing. Julie? She, I mean, it has a name?" she inquired.

He chuckled. "Ah, I see. I've never officially introduced you. How awfully remiss of me. We'll have to remedy that at the earliest convenience. And I promise, I won't rat you out and tell her all the mean things you've said about her over the years."

"How considerate of you," she mocked him. "But back to the whole money issue: do you really earn enough like this?"

He pecked her nose. "Still not convinced I can pay my rent?" he teased, which earned him a death glare from her. "Alright, alright. No need to get all grumpy. I'll have you know that vintage cars are in demand. And mine are all in top condition. The last one I sold was a 1965 Austin Healey for $50,000. I hope you can rest assured now."

He grinned at her awed look. "And restoring cars isn't too badly paid. I'm good at it and people who're willing to spend real money on buying a vintage car aren't known to be stingy where maintenance of their babies is concerned either. Time is the biggest problem because I don't have that much. I do it during sleepless nights sometimes."

"Wow! That's really a surprise, Patrick. I hadn't pegged you as a craftsman. You didn't even attempt to help Rigs and Cho when we had that break-down two weeks ago," she scolded him.

"Ah, but where would the fun have been in that? Watching them was the best entertainment I've had in a long time. What an utterly delightful display of machismo." He smirked evilly, and even Lisbon had to admit that their male teammates had provided quite the show. "Besides, these new, horrible Sport Utility Vehicles you cops prefer are no treat at all. In most cases you really can't fix them yourself because of all the electronic stuff. One little computer glitch and the whole contraption stops." He looked disgusted. "Not my cup of tea."

She just had to kiss those pouting lips and caress his cheek afterwards. "Just two more questions, Jane: where did you learn to repair cars, and do you do it in a three-piece-suit?"

He laughed heartily at the second one. "No, I do it in the nude – pays much better," he joked. Her eyes widened a fraction. You could never be too sure with him after all. "Nah, Lisbon. I have to disappoint you, though I would work in the nude for you." He could spot some interest on her face and chuckled. "I have a coverall at the garage."

Her interest was definitely sparked. She imagined him wearing nothing but a coverall, curls in disarray from working, some specks of oil on his face, a bit sweaty, enhancing his natural scent. Not bad. Not bad at all. She blushed, the sudden rush of arousal taking her by surprise. To her mortification, she heard him snicker. 'Busted' she thought and sure enough he started talking again, "Dilated pupils, red tinge on the face, a surge of tenseness. Why, Teresa? Does the thought of me in a coverall really turn you on that much?"

She hid her face on his chest again, feeling completely humiliated. Why had the smug bastard to be so damn perceptive? Jane of course sensed her deep unease. He stroked her back lovingly and whispered in her ear, "Come on, love. Don't be so embarrassed. I have quite a few fantasies of my own about you. I'll reveal some of them to you at another time. Maybe I'll even be able to convince you to make one or two of them come true."

"Really?" She looked up at this revelation.

He grinned naughtily. "Yep. And you know what? I promise I'll bring my coverall home with me next time. Needs a wash anyway come to think of it," he told her with a suggestive wink. "It's all stained and sweaty," he continued with a seductive voice.

She couldn't quell a moan at the picture his words evoked, at the same time cursing him for being able to read her like that. Suddenly she found herself flipped over on her side with Patrick facing her. Her head rested on his upper arm, which held her close to him. His free hand sneaked in between them and found her core. She shivered with arousal and groaned when his fingers parted her lips and played with her clit.

He started to talk again, quietly, with a husky voice, right into her ear and she closed her eyes and just listened. "I'm wearing a blue coverall, without sleeves, and nothing else because it's so hot inside of the garage. I've been working hard for hours. I'm a bit dirty and sweaty, curls all over the place. I've just checked the oil-level on a 1962 Imperial Crown. Put the rod deep inside the tray, all the way to the bottom, feeling my way around the whole pan, finding it all good and wet." He mimicked his words perfectly with his fingers in her and she was so hot she was about to combust.

"I have to extract the rod very carefully. This is an extremely tender engine. But the whole channel is all oily and oh so wet, the rod has no problem to move up. No resistance at all. Just smooth material and delicious wetness embracing it from all sides on its way up." His finger followed his descriptions and lingered at her clit again. She shivered and panted, silently urging him on to continue, to speak and touch her, all her senses reduced to hearing and feeling and the pictures he created in her mind.

"But just before the rod can leave completely, I sense a tiny hump. My movements are feather light, so I won't cause any damage." She was extremely close now, moaning 'Oh god, oh god' with abandon, face blissful and the most beautiful sight he could possibly imagine. So he decided to release her. "I move the rod to and fro, to and fro, freeing it gently, so I can finally pull it over the edge and out it comes." And right on cue she came violently, surrendering completely to her feelings, shouting his name. Her heart beat like mad and she panted coming down from her high. He just held her close and petted her flank lightly.

When she'd caught her breath again several minutes later she looked into his warm and slightly smug eyes and stammered helplessly, "That was… I… Wow."

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I'll take that as approval, my dear." He chuckled.

She took another minute to compose herself, before she tried again. "It was incredibly intense. I…" she turned a bit shy and blushed. "I loved it. Thank you, Patrick."

"It was all in your head, Teresa. The mind is a powerful tool. I barely did anything. But you're very welcome. Seeing you so aroused and blissful is a beautiful experience. Very gratifying. So I should probably be the one to thank you." He looked at her with pure affection.

They shared another kiss. "Oh, and for the last answer I owe you," he started a while later, "Fixing cars is one of the first skills you learn on a carnival, Teresa. I practically grew up on a moving parking lot. And those vehicles weren't the newest ones either. Always something to repair." After a moment he added, "So now I hope this whole money matter is resolved for the time being?"

She nodded her consent.

"Good. Then you'll get $800 from me at the earliest convenience," he stated with finality.

"No," she protested. "That's entirely too much. I only came up with that sum to force your hand," she admitted sheepishly. "$500 max."

"Let's make it $600, so it'll add up to one grand total with the housekeeping money. Deal?" he bargained.

She hemmed and hawed a little but gave in at last. "Deal."

They sealed it with another kiss and decided to call it a night afterwards.


TBC

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