Lisbon's face was buried in Jane's chest. All he could see when he looked at her was messy hair and he idly traced patterns on her back with his fingertips. They were atop the bedding, sideways across the bed still.
Jane was pretty sure he'd be able to go again. And he wanted to. He hadn't known for sure that he could do it. Consummate his relationship with Lisbon. He had had sex exactly one time previously since his wife had died. And it was nothing. He'd felt nothing that time. It was business only; the culmination of six months of undercover investigating, and he'd switched his mind off to do it.

It wasn't like that this time. He had felt everything, experienced everything. And he wasn't nearly done discovering what he could do to her. Or what she could do to him.

He kissed her mop of unruly hair, shifting so she could better feel his stirring erection pressing into her.

"You have obliterated my self control, woman.", he told her hair.
She grinned into his chest, fidgeting with one of his nipples. "I'm okay with that."

She lapped at his other nipple, hot tongue on sweaty skin.

Jane whimpered. He was so easy, responsive to her every touch. Lisbon reveled in her achievements. What she could do to him. He was perfect. It was her turn to be smug and she gave him a boastful smile.

"I'm glad I amuse you", Jane grinned back.

Lisbon's hand slid down his chest, circling his belly button before skimming his pubic hair.

And then her phone rang.

They both groaned simultaneously, and not in a good way. Lisbon dismounted Jane, deaf to his protests to ignore it.

Abbott was on the line. She wrapped the bedspread around herself and sat on the edge of the bed.
Abbott wanted to discuss undoing her transfer to D.C.. Lisbon wanted to discuss having some time off to find a new place to live as she settled back into Texas. And Jane? He wanted to discuss what shade of pink Lisbon's nipples were. He whispered various colours in her ear. Carnation, coral, rose, salmon, magenta...
Definitely rose, he decided.

Lisbon gave Jane a shove, and he sighed. Reluctantly he hopped off the bed - literally, he was an injured man, after all - and began dressing. He tucked Lisbon's very cute underwear into his trouser pocket when she wasn't looking and made his way out to the living space where he'd left the origami daisy chain he'd made out of newspaper earlier that morning.

He returned to the bedroom, chain in hand. Lisbon was pacing, discussing the mountains of paperwork she was going to have to fill out in order to re-transfer back to her old job. It sounded tedious and dull and Jane didn't have the constitution to deal with that. Teresa looked divine, her professional demeanour having taken over, contrasting with the very unclothed situation she was currently in. She barely acknowledged him. Work was her mistress.

Jane waited until she paced over in his general direction before he tugged at the bedspread that she was using as a shawl. It came loose immediately and he flung it away, out of her reach. She scowled at him but continued her phone conversation, not missing a beat.

Lisbon paced the length of the room, not bothering to cover herself. She knew Jane's eyes were admiring her backside, and if it kept him quiet for a minute, then that was fine by her.

Jane grew restless waiting for her to end the call and he moved to stand in front of her, stopping her mid-pace, before gracefully dropping the daisy chain he'd just removed from his pocket over her head. It fell around her throat. Every flower was a delicate rose, each unique, unbelievably beautiful, despite the newsprint. Lisbon ran her fingers over the roses and without warning, Jane whisked her phone out of her hand.

Abbott was talking; Jane pressed the phone to his ear. Lisbon tried snatching the phone back but Jane was too quick. And too obnoxious. She put her hands on her hips; very angry, very naked.

"...and I'm happy to give Jane the two weeks off too. For professional reasons only, obviously. You can tell him if you see him. I plan on calling him later. He seems to work best when he has you to keep him in line.", Abbott was saying.
"It's true,", Jane agreed, telling the phone. "Without Lisbon's guiding hands I can never reach my pinnacle."
He grinned sunnily at Lisbon. She did not return his smile; all scowls, all the time.
"Lisbon has to go, Abbott. She is very, very naked." Jane hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.

"I cannot believe you just did that!", she hissed.
"You can, actually. I know you can, because you've met me before." He was so casual; unfazed.
Lisbon was fazed, on the other hand. "You don't get to mess with my career."
"Meh. It was Abbott. He's a romantic. And the patron saint of our budding relationship."
He reached for her but she shrugged away, grabbing her suitcase.
"I'm going to have a shower," she said, not looking at him.
Lisbon stalked out of the room, fuming. Jane appreciated the view, despite the fact they were having their first lovers' quarrel.

Standing was no longer a viable option for Jane at this point; his ankle was killing him. The ER doctor the previous day said it was one of the worst sprains he'd ever seen and that Jane should keep off it for at least a month. He had crutches; they were dumped at the door. He'd dropped them there the previous night before he'd kissed Teresa against the wall. He didn't really want to use them though, and fetched his now-cold cup of tea and limped his way to the couch, pausing briefly at the bathroom door to listen to the sound of water slapping against the shower tiles.

Were he bolder, he'd have climbed into the shower with her. His bravado didn't quite extend that far.

Lisbon was mad at him; Jane had some calls to make.