Warning: Sexual content


They were naked in a matter of seconds. With all their pent-up emotions running wild their merging was quick, intense and powerful. He'd hoisted her up on the counter, guided her legs up so they were resting on his shoulders and had plunged into her without much of a preamble.

He barely managed to groan, "Condom?" She whispered a hoarse, "Second drawer," in response and indicated the floor unit underneath her. He grabbed and donned the object in a rush.

They were both very vocal, crying out their lust and earlier frustrations during the act, and their release was as much a sexual one as it was one borne by exasperation.

As forceful and emotive as their encounter had been, the kisses and caresses he bestowed on her afterwards were just as tender while she was still lying on the counter top with him bent over her. "I love you, Teresa," he whispered huskily.

"I love you too, Patrick, just the way you are," she replied warmly, pulling his head down for another deep kiss. "But now get me down from this torture device. It's killing my back."

He smiled warmly. "Sure thing." Carefully he pulled her first into a sitting position and lifted her down after another deep kiss. "Not twenty anymore, are we?" he teased, when she was standing again, right before him, straightening her back with a grimace.

"Well, if you wanted some young chick, Jane, I'm not your best choice," she bantered, moving her forefinger lightly down his chest.

He pretended to scrutinize her from top to toe, and finally grasped her butt with his hands giving both cheeks a gentle squeeze as if evaluating them. "Oh, I don't know. You look and feel still pretty crisp to me. I think I'll keep you a while longer yet."

"How mighty nice of you. And how much longer will that be? Just so I have an approximate expiration date," she asked jokingly.

He feigned to think about it. "Well, with such things it's empirically tricky to know for certain, even for a clever guy like me, but I'd hope for something like around about forty years, maybe?" he finally said. And though his voice had been playful, his eyes conveyed his seriousness.

"Sounds good to me," she replied a bit hoarsely, touched by his words. "What about that tea now? What kind do you want?" she added to cover up her emotions.

"Surprise me," he answered with a warm smile.

She cast him an incredulous look, "As if I ever could… You probably already know exactly, what I'm in the mood for, even though I'm actually not sure myself," she said with a bit of annoyance in her tone.

"Nah, I don't feel like playing mind games right now. I've no opinion whatsoever on the subject," he told her with conviction.

She looked a bit skeptical, but went over to the cupboard holding their assortment of teas and stood in front of it screening it from his view. There were so many different types to choose from and many which sounded delicious. Finally she settled on a flavor, she'd only had once but enjoyed greatly.

"Green tea with cranberries," he stated from the other side of the room the moment she'd made her pick, face smug.

She growled angrily and nearly put the package back just to spite him. "You are awfully annoying, Jane, and I have not the foggiest idea how the hell you're doing this," she huffed.

"Reading your mind of course, my dear," he replied with a smirk. "Remember? You're an open book, Lisbon."

He walked over to her, took the pack from her hands and continued to prepare their tea. She came up behind him and put her arms around his chest stroking it and rested her cheek against his back. "Miserable show-off," she said lovingly.

He turned his head, grinned, and replied, "I love you too, Teresa." His attention refocused on the boiling water, which he poured into the mugs and put the kettle down again. "Shall we take the tea upstairs to the bedroom or do you want to retire to the living room for a while?"

"I know it's late, but I feel like spending a bit more time outside of bed."


She released him and bent down to retrieve her panties and t-shirt from where they had landed during their earlier rather hectic stripping. She put both garments on, while Patrick carried their mugs to the couch. She found his shorts for him as well – another pair she wouldn't mind throwing out, because they weren't in the best of states to put it mildly – and followed him.

She held the offending piece of clothing out to him and wrinkled her nose. "Patrick, really. We need to do something about your wardrobe. These things have definitely a lot more holes than shorts are supposed to have."

He looked very sheepish and took the pair from her. "Not very sexy, I admit."

She rolled her eyes. "If it was only that… Say, what do you think your wife would have done with those?"

"Thrown them on my head probably," he replied with a fond grin.

They sat down on the couch close to each other, Patrick foregoing to redress, and took their respective mugs.

"Expect to be bombarded with quite a few disgusting shorts and socks in the near future then," she told him with a wink. "Or you could do us both a favor and remedy the situation."

"Alright, alright, I got it. I'll pick something up tomorrow. I'm meeting Elisa in the mall anyway for some shopping and organizing for the funeral and I have an appointment at the hairdresser's as well," he told her looking a bit embarrassed. "Do you need anything?"

She pondered his question a moment. "Maybe. I could probably do with a new white blouse," she said with a thoughtful look. "My best one is a bit discolored due to a washing accident…" she muttered a moment later.

Patrick chuckled. "Happens to the best of us, Teresa. And you can join us if you like. I'm sure Elisa would be delighted to have another woman to conspire with. She doesn't have much confidence in men helping her shop. Jonathan seems to be a disaster in that area."

"What about you, Patrick? Are you the impatient, edgy husband or the useful advisor type of guy?" she inquired with amusement.

"Best consultant ever – in any kind of situation of course." He grinned.

She cast him a doubtful look.

"No, really. Angie always insisted I tag along. Obviously I have a gift for spotting the best garments. And I assure you that taught me patience… She used to force me into spending whole days clothes shopping with a bunch of her friends. I should probably have gotten some kind of medal for it." His face showed an indulgent smile and a far-away look. "Her best friend Betty actually used to joke that I deserved the 'Husband-Of-The-Year-Award'." He chuckled. "But Angie of course only replied that it was the least I could do considering what she had to put up with." His eyes turned a bit sad at that. "Turns out she was more than right."

Teresa took his hand into hers, intertwined their fingers and pulled them up to her mouth, kissing the back of his hand gently. She lowered them down into her lap afterwards and covered his with her other hand. "I'm sure she didn't mind putting up with you most of the time," she told him quietly. "She knew she was lucky to have you. I am."

He turned his head in her direction and their eyes met. "Thank you, Teresa," he said, voice raw with emotion. "I… thanks."

"You're very welcome, Patrick," she answered warmly.

Her lover cleared his throat before he started to speak. "She would have liked you," he confided in her. "I'm sure you could've been good friends. You have a similar kind of humor – among other things."

"Or we might have scratched out each other's eyes over you," Teresa countered, trying to lighten the mood.

Catching on he chuckled. "Poor Angie. She wouldn't have stood a chance against badass cop Teresa. I'd have liked it to be a mud-wrestling match. That would have been a sight for sore eyes: the two most beautiful women in the world, covered in nothing but mud, fighting over me…"

They both laughed at the picture forming in their minds, though Patrick's merriment still held a touch of sadness. She covered his mouth with hers and gave him a sweet, loving kiss. "Let's go to bed, Patrick. It's late, after one already."

He nodded and they retired for the night.


Teresa awoke alone in her bed – something she had been used to for years, but hated now that someone was supposed to share it with her. In place of her lover, she found a note in his handwriting:

'Had to leave for the hairdresser's. Breakfast is in the oven. Meeting Elisa at noon in the Arden Fair Mall. Call me for further info. Love, P.'

He'd even doodled a little comic like figure with curly hair blowing a kiss from a heart shaped mouth in the lower right corner of the page, which made her snicker. He could protest it as much as he wanted, but he was a corny person. Not that she would complain, she found it very endearing after all…

She looked at her alarm clock and noted that it was already almost 10 am. She got up and ready for the day, and found her breakfast – French toast! she loved his French toast – in the oven as promised and devoured it. At about 11 am she got out her cell phone and called him while getting ready to leave.

"Hi Lisbon," he greeted her in his usual manner.

"Hey Jane," she answered. "Where are you?"

"Just entered the mall. Figured I could get my own shopping out of the way before I meet you two ladies. You up and about?"

"Yeah, just finished breakfast. Thanks for the toast. It was delicious."

He couldn't see her happy smile, but he was pretty sure he actually heard it. "You're welcome, love. Any preferences regarding my underwear?" he asked with a suggestive undertone.

"I'm sure anything would be better than the status quo, Jane. But you could start with the socks and I'll catch up with you in half an hour and help you pick something suitable," she teased him, grabbing her purse, keys, and jacket.

He chuckled. "Okay. I'm looking forward to it."

She groaned. "What have I just gotten myself into? You expecting to enjoy yourself is a sure sign for disaster in my experience… Maybe we should wait until we meet your grandma. I'm sure it would be fun to have HER pick out briefs for you…" She had left the apartment and was on her way to her car.

He chuckled again. "You've really scary ideas sometimes, Teresa. But somehow I doubt it that you want us all to die from embarrassment."

"Oh, Elisa would definitely die from shock and you from embarrassment if I showed her what you're normally wearing," she retorted, unlocking her car and getting in.

"My dear Teresa, I would appreciate it greatly if you could refrain from discussing any aspect of my underwear with my grandmother. Actually, I would be eternally grateful even," he replied merrily, obviously amused. "You better hurry up, by the way. I'm entering a men's wear store as we speak."

"I'm already in my car. ETA in fifteen minutes. I'll call you again, when I'm there, Patrick. Don't forget: only socks until I arrive." She started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

"Got it, Teresa: You really want to be present when I buy my underwear. Love you." He hung up without waiting for her reply.


When Lisbon arrived at the entrance to the shop Patrick had named in a text message three minutes ago, she met Elisa just outside watching the happenings inside. "Oh hey, Elisa. You're here already? I thought you were supposed to meet us in forty minutes," she greeted the old woman.

"Ah, Teresa dear." She pulled the younger woman into a hug. "I arrived a bit early and wanted to look around for a while, but then I happened upon this scene and had to stay. Have been standing here for ten minutes already and loved every second of it. You absolutely have to see this. Come on, come on!" She grabbed Lisbon's arm and pulled her to her side, so they could see and hear what went on in the shop without being visible to anyone inside. "It's a bit embarrassing for a lady to see, just how little dignity some women have, but the show's great anyway," Patrick's grandmother declared with a smirk very reminiscent of her grandson's.

Inside the shop Teresa could see five saleswomen aged between their mid-twenties to mid-fifties gallivanting around one Patrick Jane, giggling and presenting him with various pieces of clothing, socks being the most prominent items. The blond man seemed to enjoy himself splendidly, milking the situation for all it was worth, shooing them around asking for more and more outrageous materials with a charming smile and alluring voice. "Oh Claire dear, are those really velvet socks? They look absolutely sinful. I'm sure they'll provide the utmost pleasure…. for my feet," Elisa and Teresa heard him purr. "What would you say, Beth? Are those really the most comfortable or should I rather go for silk?" he addressed another of the assistants, hissing the 's' in silk seductively.

The woman in question stared at him with dreamy eyes, simpered and stammered, "Silk's always a safe choice, sir."

"Ah, call me Patrick. No need to be so formal, dear. But Deborah here seemed to believe microfiber is best. Isn't that supposed to be even smoother than silk?" Bending down a bit and motioning for them to come closer – which they did at once - as if he wanted to share some secret with them he added in a low voice, "I really love pliant and supple things, ladies."

The two spectators couldn't stay calm anymore. "And this has really been going on for more than ten minutes?" Teresa pressed out between fits of laughter. Elisa only managed to nod, a few tears of mirth running down her wizened cheeks. She tried to compose herself a bit but failed.

Their outburst had called at least Patrick's attention to their presence. The besotted females in the shop on the other hand were completely oblivious to anything but their lovely customer. He grinned deviously in the direction of the entrance and waved them over to where he was standing merrily. "Oh, my two favorite girls! Do come in. I want you to meet Gina, Beth, Claire, Deborah, and Amanda. They've been very forthcoming."

His words definitely broke the spell and the five female shop assistants cast collective death glares at the two newcomers, mostly at Teresa – obviously the bigger competition – but even at the old lady, who registered this with smug amusement and satisfaction. The glares became even darker when Patrick first greeted his grandmother with a peck on each cheek and than pulled his lover into a full-out kiss, which clearly couldn't be misconstrued as a mere gesture of friendship.

"They have the most amazing assortment of socks here," Patrick explained afterwards, pretending to be completely oblivious to the temperature drop inside the shop. "Did you know, that they make socks from velvet, silk, and microfiber these days, my dear?" he addressed Teresa. He shook his head in a dramatic way. "One really wonders what happened to good, old cotton…"

"We do have cotton socks, sir," the woman, whose nametag identified her as Amanda, hurriedly supplied. "I could get some pairs for you. We have many different colors and patterns."

Teresa, who'd grown a bit tired of the game and felt like showing her possessive side, chimed in at this point, "Why don't you just point us in the right direction? I'm sure, we'll be perfectly capable of picking out some simple cotton socks without further assistance, thank you."

Lisbon noticed with great satisfaction that she'd just made some friends for life. Patrick grinned like a loon and Elisa snickered. "Ah! I haven't had that much fun in ages," she exclaimed happily. "Thank you for the great entertainment, ladies," she told the sales women. "Now, where to?" she asked with a questioning look.

One of the vendors pointed her finger to the back of the shop with a dour expression. That's when Patrick dug deep into the pockets of his suit jacket and produced five pairs of cotton socks, three black and two blue, and a receipt. "Already got what I came for twenty minutes ago," he explained. "Your friendly colleague, Stuart was his name I think, attended to me. Went on his lunch break right afterwards." He cast a charming smile at the five speechless assistants. "It was lovely chatting with you about all those delightful materials, ladies. Thank you so much for your time and effort. Have a nice day."


He stowed the socks away again, linked arms with both Elisa and Teresa, and they left the store together. Once outside Lisbon slapped his arm lightly. "Geez, that was mean, imp! Even I didn't see that last part coming."

Patrick only chuckled. "I swear I didn't plan this. They conquered me on my way out. What was I supposed to do? You have to always be nice to the ladies, right?" he replied with an innocent expression that didn't fool either of the women in his company.

His grandmother couldn't stop herself from ruffling his newly cut, especially nice looking, short curls. "You are really something else, Patrick," she said warmly. "Wait 'til I tell your grandfather about this. He'll…"

The blond man interrupted her nervously, "No, please. Don't tell him, ma'am," he pleaded, a glint of fear visible in his eyes for those who knew him well. "I'm sorry. It was just a stupid, a tasteless joke. I know I shouldn't have done it." He looked down at his feet like a chastised child.

Elisa decided to ignore his reaction though his behavior worried her. Her grandson obviously seemed afraid of the male head of the Jane family and she didn't like the thought.

Every time they met he seemed to try to behave perfectly. He was extremely polite, attentive, reserved, and well spoken. He avoided any kind of topic that could appear the least bit offensive, didn't divulge anything personal, and treated them with the utmost respect.

Today she'd finally seen another glint of his true nature, his mischievousness and playfulness, and she'd loved it. He was a lot like herself. Of course it had been a bit mean to play those women like that, but in her book it was their own fault. Those vultures had practically salivated over her grandson after all. Why shouldn't he take advantage of it and have some harmless fun?

Watching him in that shop had given her more information about him than any of their previous meetings. She'd already assumed that he was a brilliant observer and manipulator because Teresa had introduced him as a mentalist, but during their short time together he'd only used his abilities to try and please them. He'd projected an image of himself perfectly molded to give them what he thought they wanted to have: a highly educated, mannerly, well-behaved, straightforward man.

The only time she was sure she'd seen a bit of his real personality had been at the opera. Her grandson obviously loved music and felt it deeply. He'd even shed some tears during the heartrending aria of the prima donna. The heroine had been perfectly cast with a beautiful voice and when she'd mourned the loss of her husband, Patrick had been truly affected. Elisa had watched him carefully from the corner of her eye and that's the only reason she'd seen it.

Afterwards, he'd been perfectly composed and had talked about the performance with detached expertise. He'd been very careful to appear neither ignorant nor overly knowledgeable, but she hadn't been fooled. Her grandson knew quite a bit about music and opera, a lot more than he'd let on, probably because he didn't want to risk offending her considering she was a musician. She reminded herself that she wanted to ask him if he himself played an instrument at a later date.

Now however she had to deal with the situation at hand and deemed it best to just continue with her original sentence. "Your grandfather will laugh his head off when I tell him, I'm sure. It was absolutely hilarious, Patrick. Those women were a complete disgrace to every self-respecting female. I hope that was a lecture they won't soon forget. Jonathan will be devastated that he missed out on this show."

The blond man looked up at her and when she gave him a reassuring nod, he relaxed visibly.


TBC

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