A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. You've been a big help and you've boosted my confidence. A special thanks to the guest reviewers, I can't PM you directly! (Also, Google translate assures me the review in Portuguese is favourable haha. obrigado!). You're wonderful. I've spent this past week feeling happy and accomplished. I'm never happy and I never achieve anything. It's been pretty great.
Thanks to everybody reading. :)

Jane didn't know how to use Siri. Which was unfortunate because that would have helped immensely. What was fortunate, however, was that he was Patrick Jane, who absolutely did know how to use charm, and he called down to hotel reception instead to flirt shamelessly with the, from what he could gather, 28-30 year old, 5'2"-5'3", overweight, bespectacled, overqualified, middle-child, deepseated daddy issue plagued, Ohio-born, obsessed with Disney, woman who answered the phone. She was only too eager to do that Google thing on his behalf.

Ten minutes later he was armed with a plan and a half dozen memorised phone numbers. Lisbon was still in the shower. Likely the water was scalding and she was scowling, tense and angry. Jane knew he'd messed up. Knew he'd taken a risk intercepting her excruciatingly, mindnumbingly dull phone call that made him want to tear his fingernails out, but he had done it anyway. Getting laid changes a man, probably, he mused. And Lisbon was hot when she was mad. He'd always known that, but now? Now he was allowed to admit it, actually enjoy it.

Which was maybe a bit twisted. Especially considering he wasn't certain he hadn't just screwed up their very new romantic relationship already. Could he have? Hmm. Nah. She'd forgiven him for way worse. Convinced her she was dying once. Heh. They weren't a couple then though. If that's what they were now.

He'd called her his girlfriend the previous night. Well, kind of. But he was drunk and she was drunk and they both ignored it. It was probably way too soon for that anyway. Or way too late. Do people their age consider themselves boyfriend and girlfriend?

In any case, he put his plan in motion, made some calls.

Painkillers were going to be necessary, though. His ankle throbbed and he examined it closely. It was a spectacular purple colour and there was an egg-bulge, swelling and tendons that had been overstretched and not gone back into position yet. Ouch. Jane was soft when it came to physical pain.

He gingerly donned some clean socks and then his shoes, though that hurt a fair bit. A lot. Low pain threshold. His biggest nemesis. Followed closely by uncomfortable chairs and oversteeped tea. Or, tea made by Rigsby.

Lisbon was moving about in the bathroom now. He heard a drawer slam. Hmm. Still angry. Some kind of serious discussion was probably going to need to take place, but he didn't really want to. He knew what he did wrong already. Is that how relationships work? He couldn't really remember, intentionally tried to bury that stuff a long time ago. Origami probably not the solution?

Ahh. Right. Honesty. One of the things Lisbon prided above most things. And one of the things he wasn't so great at. Well. He can try that. Not as much fun as paper folding though. Maybe she'd enjoy an origami glock that shoots paperclips...

Sipping his tea, Jane didn't turn around at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Cold tea was not really his thing, but it was better than no tea and he always felt better with a cup in his hand.

Lisbon lingered in the bathroom doorway, steam billowing, escaping around her. She wore a black pantsuit with a blue shirt, had left her damp hair loose, curling. Looped three times around her right wrist was the rose-daisy chain-thing some jackass had made for her. The hot water had washed away some of her anger. Jane was, well, he was being himself really. Time spent under the cascading water convinced her to cut him some slack. Some. He still deserved a punch in the nose. She was unsure if Jane would still be there when she emerged; it'd be just like him to take off. Her gaze fell on the back of Jane's head over the backrest of the sofa. Still here. Jerk. His hair looked arrogant. Probably not possible, but it really did. Self righteous tousled swoops and curls. Ah. Well then. Still angry.

"I can feel you frowning from here," Jane said, staring forward. "You might as well come here and be annoyed at me close up rather than hesitating over there."
"Don't you dare act like I'm overreacting." She crossed her arms.
"I'm not, and you're not," he turned his head to look at her. "Won't you sit?"

She did. Instead of the couch she chose the matching armchair opposite.

"Look, I'm sorry.", Jane began. "I. Uh, I mean. Sorry. I... got impatient and you were attractive, are attractive, and now you're mine and I wanted to-, um. And that may have resulted in inappropriate innuendo and public assertions of your nudity. To your boss." Jane paused. "You know, this sounds really bad now I'm saying it out loud."