Morning comes, and with it a sense of purpose. There is always a case, always something to throw herself into so that she can forget about him. for a little while anyway. Whilst it isn't pleasant knowing someone has died in order for that work to be there, she cannot help but be grateful that it is.
But as she strolls into work, much earlier than usual,
She spots him. For a moment she cannot decide if the universe is punishing her, or taking pity on her. Because in front of her, across the bullpen, sprawled on that aged brown leather couch he loved so much, is a very cute, very much asleep Patrick Jane.
She freezes in the door frame. Her breath catches in her throat. His hair is messy, sticking up in odd places. It should make him look ridiculous, or merely cute. But instead the disheveled nature of the blonde curls reminds her instead of what it might look like after a fierce full body grinding kiss.
His face is surprisingly peaceful, the chiseled lines somewhat relaxed in slumber. usually there is always a hint of joviality to him, but also a hint of mocking. But now he appeared peaceful.
Her gaze is drawn to his mouth. that delightfully expressive pair of lips, partially parted as he breathed. It was a thing of fascination for her, able to contain and convey so many different expressions. Sometimes it curved in a sneer, contempt dripping out of every line. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness when he didn't think anyone was looking, it belied the weight of his grief. Other times those delicate lips formed a bright wide impish smile, when she'd caught him at something he shouldn't be doing.
But his best smile, the one she favored most, was a small smile, barely a curve of the lips. It appeared when she did something unexpectedly sweet and caught him off guard, or when he did something for her without trying to get anything back. It appeared without fail when dealing with children. it wasn't a planned smile, too real, too rare and far too honest to be faked.
The things she'd dreamt of with that mouth. those damnably soft looking lips that practically begged to be kissed, to be licked. Around his mouth and his sharp jaw was the faintest sign of stubble. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to rub her fingers against it, to have such roughness rub across her face.
From there her gaze wandered down the long line of his throat. How many times had she wanted to throttle him? probably almost as many times as she'd wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and let the warmth of him calm her. his collar was open, the pale blue business shirt unbuttoned further than it usually was, exposing his chest to her enraptured eyes.
The soft sunlight highlighted the almost invisible curls of blond hair scattered across his chest. She could see the lines of definition, he'd kept himself fit enough to take out Red John when he had to. But knowing he kept himself fit was different to seeing it laid out before her like some illicit feast. His vest, a dark navy blue, was still buttoned for the most part. If his business shirt was unbuttoned further she'd never know it.
One pale dexterous hand lay resting against his chest, the other barely brushed the floor. His hands were one of the more intriguing things about him. he could make them dance, steal things away and replace them with barely a gesture. Help and Harm in great quantities contained within such delicate looking hands. As she stared, she could measure his breathing by the gentle rise and fall of his resting hand.
Her gaze swept over the rest of his body, over the dark grey slacks that should have been illegal to wear in the presence of any warm blooded woman. They flattered his long legs, and had given her imagination way too much to work with. his feet were propped up on the arm of the couch. He was the very picture of dishevelment.
How could that couch be comfortable to sleep on?
He shifted slightly, and with a start she realized that she'd basically spent an unknown amount of time ogling him. A hot embarrassed flush heated her cheeks and she turned, making her way back to the small kitchen as quietly as she could.
At least no one had seen her doing so, especially not him. for once being a bit of an insomniac had it's benefits.
Authors note: i'm trying to balance two assignments and exam, so forgive me if i'm a little slow getting these written and posted, have no fear, i wont leave you hanging ;)
Also, please let me know what you think, i'm very interested to hear your opinions :D
~Madam red