AN: This is mostly fluff, I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy!
Depths and Determinations
Chapter Four
He woke once, in the middle of the night, disoriented for a moment until he remembered what had happened. Lisbon was tucked into his side, arm around his waist, her head on his chest.
She was staying.
With him.
And he was not, at least for the moment, going to jail.
It took him a full five minutes to stop smiling.
Though it was now the second night they'd spent together, it felt like the first. Or rather, like how the first should have gone. There was a sense of intimacy and peace here, of two lovers finding each other after far too long apart. He was safe, free to give into the feeling of sanctuary and rest.
The night before had been different.
She had still been with someone else, someone who was trying to take her away. He had no guarantee that he would end the day as a free man. Exhausted as he had been, he'd stayed awake, not knowing if he would ever have the chance to hold her while she slept again.
Not that her dreams had been peaceful. She'd been fitful, tossing and turning often, though never leaving the circle of his arms. He wasn't the only one who was trying to commit things to memory.
And now…now he could close his eyes, could run a hand through her hair, kiss her forehead as she peacefully snuggled deeper into his embrace, slumber decidedly untroubled.
He smiled again.
When he was woke the next time, it was just dawn, a faint sliver of pink light slanting in through the curtains at her window, turning everything shades of rosy gold.
Her room was quiet, clean, a haven from the nightmare he'd been dealing with.
He wondered if it was too early to ask if he could move in.
Probably, he decided, though he figured he could manage to at least stay here every night. She'd wanted this for about as long as he had, and hopefully she'd decided they'd wasted too much precious time to worry about things like appropriate relationship timelines.
Eventually, he carefully untangled himself from her warm body, muscles protesting, and padded to the kitchen.
His back hurt. Hell, most of him hurt, if he was being honest, and he wondered if his lifestyle was finally catching up to him. No, he didn't drink much, didn't smoke, do drugs, or party all night surrounded by women who were usually wearing tassels and glitter.
But he did sleep on couches, or in cheap hotels, anywhere he didn't really have to feel alone, sometimes went days without sleeping, and dealt with enough emotional trauma and upheaval on a daily basis that would sent a great number of men into therapy.
Normally, he didn't let it bother him. But perhaps this night with Lisbon, all soft and safe and loving, had made him realize how rough and unforgiving his existence had been.
Frowning, he flipped on the light in the kitchen.
It wasn't particular big, but still about four times the size of the one she'd had in Sacramento. Of course, he'd seen broom closets that had more counter –space than that place.
He began snooping through cupboards in search of tea, pausing once to start a pot of coffee. There was actual food on the shelves, and he hoped Lisbon had learned to take a little better care of herself.
Then abruptly, he was sad. She'd had to learn it, because he hadn't been around to do it for her.
He wondered who had brought her ice cream when a case made her sad, who refused to let her eat more than two meals a week that came from vending machines, who quietly replaced the coffee in her cup with decaf when she'd come close to the limit a human could consume without going into shock.
The answer was obvious.
No one.
No one had done these things for her.
Time to change all of that.
He was still full of his resolution when he found the tea. His favorite brand, naturally, at the very back of her small pantry. Obviously, she'd bought it in the hopes of serving it to him. Or possibly letting him make it himself so he didn't complain about the way she did it. Either way, it had been meant for him to drink in this house.
There was a fine layer of dust on the top of the box.
Another thing he hadn't been around for.
He brewed a quick cup, drank it while poking through the rest of her shelves in the kitchen. As he walked by, he peeked into the living room. The two boxes of letters were still on the coffee table.
It was hard to believe it had barely been thirty six hours since he'd showed up at her door, attempting to explain what she meant without actually telling her.
It had been a stupid plan, but looking back, he supposed it had worked out well enough in the end.
Very well indeed, he decided, sliding back into the soft bed beside Lisbon, nuzzling her neck until she stirred sleepily.
"Good morning," he murmured, lips at her ear.
She muttered something incoherently at him, eyelids still firmly shut. Her hands found his under the blankets.
"I made coffee," he said, still quiet. "I'll bring you some if you want."
Without opening her eyes, she arched a brow. "What I want, Jane, is for you to lay back down and stop talking."
He chuckled. Apparently becoming lovers hadn't improved her temperament in the morning. It was endearing.
And, since he now had the right to, he did what she asked, tucking the comforter around them both, shifting to accommodate her when she wanted to drape herself over him.
She was going to have the imprint of shirt buttons on her cheek, and he had a sudden idea.
It would wait though. Everything was going to wait while he simply lived in this moment, the woman he loved - the woman he had been waiting to have for a decade- wrapped up in his arms.
The alarm clock said it was nearly ten before they both made it up. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent so long in a bed.
When she was in the bathroom, he made her fresh coffee. Time to start taking care of her again.
By the time she'd joined him, he'd dug hash browns out of the freezer and was already flipping his first pancake over.
Lisbon looked at him a little funny when he sat the plate in front of her and handed her the bottle of syrup.
"What?" he wanted to know. "Don't tell me you've suddenly decided you don't like pancakes. And these are special, too. These are 'Happy We're Finally Figuring It Out' pancakes."
She smiled, took a bite. "Jane?"
"Hm?"
"Best pancakes I've ever had."
He kissed her, tasting maple syrup and butter…and now he thought he was probably going to get at least a little aroused every time someone ate pancakes in his vicinity. Ah, well.
When breakfast was over, they stood side by side at the sink, hips occasionally bumping as dishes were rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher. It should have been awkward, all this domesticity so soon, but it was strangely perfect.
He kissed her again as the machine started to hum, gently, then let her snuggle into his shoulder. Lisbon was normally not an openly affectionate person. In fact, she was rather the opposite, her hugs coming few and far between and she was never the one to initiate them. But now she was as much a part of this as he was.
He figured for the first few weeks, months, maybe, she would be like this. Something about wanting to touch him for so long and never being able to.
Well, he would make sure she'd have every opportunity.
But first…
He pulled back, hands on her hips, and she looked at him with questioning eyes.
"I need to go for a couple hours," he told her, and her face fell. He stroked her cheek. "I'll be quick, I promise, but there are a few things I need to do."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Like what?"
He smiled at her grumpy expression. "Shower, for one, and before you tell me I can do that here, I need clothes and I'm pretty sure I can't fit into yours." He winked. "I have some errands that I've put off for a long time to take care of after that, and then I'll be back here."
She looked suspicious. "What kinds of errands?"
"The kind that'll probably make you happy," he told her, then kissed her once more. He could probably spend all day doing that, and one of these days, he would.
"You'll be fast?" she verified. "No getting side-tracked?"
"I'll be fast," he promised. "By the time you feel like an afternoon nap, I'll be available to sleep beside." The sentence made him happy, and judging by her soft smile, she felt the same.
He showered in record time, then, for the first time in years, went to the mall.
He didn't spend much money normally, hadn't bothered to buy anything new in…well, since Before. Things needed to change. He didn't belong to that past anymore. The tan line on his finger where his ring used to be was a sharp reminder of that.
So he sprung for a handful of new suits, not the obscenely expensive kind he'd worn when he had conned folks for a living, but still not something that could be bought a JC Penney's. Socks, new shirts, some even without an island feel, and then attempted to begin what he thought of as a Casual Wardrobe.
It was a new and different beast.
Jeans. Shirts. Pajama pants. Sneakers. Well, something close-ish to them. He decided he wasn't ready for full-on athletic wear.
On the way back to her place, he stopped for a pint of soft-serve ice cream.
She was waiting for him when he arrived, and trying very hard to not look like she was doing just that.
"Mm," she whispered, arms already around his neck, lips pressing against his jaw. "Does it make me sound needy if I admit I missed you?"
"Not at all," he assured, her noting her still-damp hair and freshly scrubbed complexion. Maybe next time they could…save water and shower together.
Several times throughout the past two days he'd forgotten and then abruptly remembered that they'd slept together. Three times.
It was something he'd held onto as he waited for the jury to decide his fate, and hers. A bright, untarnished memory that belonged to them and them alone. He was profoundly grateful that it would now never be tempered by the events that came after it. No extradition, no murder charge, no moving to DC.
His hands tightened compulsively on her hips.
There were still shadows under her eyes, and he traced them with his thumb. "So about that afternoon nap…"
"Tell me where you went first," she insisted, now looking annoyed with him again. He supposed some things never changed.
"Shopping," he answered. "Wait here. I'll show you."
He'd had another idea.
Lisbon looked properly shocked when she saw him haul bag after bag into the living room. Both boxes of letters were on her bookshelf now, arranged like decorations. His lips curved upwards.
"Did you buy everything in the store?" she demanded, going through his purchases.
He shrugged. "I was working with a pretty blank slate, my dear. Not a lot of options. Better to just buy all new."
Her face was dubious again. "I'm not sure I'll know what to do with you in casual clothes," she admitted, and he chuckled.
"If you need help," he told her, a seductive note in his voice, "I'm sure I can come up with a few suggestions."
He let her examine everything. Then, "Can I use your washer? Just so I don't have to haul all of this stuff to the Laundromat?"
"Uh, sure." She blinked. "It's right off the door to the garage."
He knew that, of course, but nodded anyway. This was going to be an excellent way of getting the vast majority of his clothing here in a completely innocent manner. It took him a second, but he figured out the machine, pulling off price tags as he went.
"Done," he said triumphantly, trying to find her again. "And now…bed." The living room was empty. "Lisbon?" he called.
"In here," she answered, voice coming from the bedroom.
He tossed his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair as he walked through the house. And then he stared.
"You said something about bed?" she asked sweetly, an unexpected vision in black lace, leaning casually against the door frame.
Originally, he'd planned on simply sleeping, but his brain decided it was a good move to throw all plans out the window and just make love to her until his eyes crossed.
Later, still breathing heavily, he ran his fingers over the red marks the elastic of her lingerie had left on her pale skin. He felt a touch of guilt, as the manner in which the garments were removed probably had something to do with why the marks were there in the first place.
"I liked that outfit," she informed him once, face half-hidden in his neck, trying to sound indignant.
He closed his eyes. "I'll buy you a new one. Two new ones. As many new ones as you want," he promised.
She laughed a little, and he knew she was going to doze off soon. "Stay tonight," she whispered slowly, nearly asleep.
"I'm planning on it." He kissed the top of her head. "Go to sleep," he told her. "I'll be here when you wake up."
And he was.