Fic-A Mile in Your Shoes
For some reason, I found shoeless!Jane to be the most adorable thing ever, so this is a product of that.
Title: A Mile in Your Shoes
Author: foreverwriting9
Characters/Pairings: Jane/Lisbon
Spoilers: For Pink Tops
Rating: G
Word Count: 912
Summary: “It’s like a bad joke, Jane,” she says, breathless. “A drug dealer, a dirty cop, and a shoeless consultant walk into a bar-”
-
Lisbon laughs for a very long time when they find Jane in the warehouse, shoeless, and surrounded by a drug dealer, his thugs, and a dirty cop.
Jane frowns at her. "It's not funny, Lisbon, my feet are cold."
She doesn't stop laughing even as she's cuffing a thug twice her size. "It's like a bad joke, Jane," she says, breathless. "A drug dealer, a dirty cop, and a shoeless consultant walk into a bar-"
"I'll be waiting in the car," Jane says petulantly, leaving the room before Lisbon can finish.
He's half-asleep when the driver side door swings open. Jane opens his eyes and watches Lisbon climb into the car, but he doesn't say anything because he's still slightly annoyed with her. She laughed. He was in a drug dealer's lair with cold, shoeless feet, he almost died, and she laughed at him. He'll probably never get over it.
Lisbon's gaze flicks down to Jane's socks, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward.
He sighs. "Go on, Lisbon, get it out. Laugh at the shoeless man who was almost killed today."
"Jane, if you had seen how ridiculous you looked, surrounded by all those murderers and villains, and shoeless to top it all off." She smiles at him. "I wish someone had taken pictures."
Jane groans, leaning his head back against his seat and closing his eyes. "I wish they'd shot me."
He hears Lisbon laugh softly, and then something lands on his lap, making him jump. He opens his eyes, only to find a pair of shoes sitting in front of him, and Lisbon grinning widely at him.
"My shoes?" he asks in disbelief, poking the familiar leather soles as if to make sure they're real.
Lisbon starts the car, smiling out the window as she pulls onto the road. "You're welcome."
When they finally arrive back at headquarters, Jane immediately escapes to the sanctity of his couch, stretching out and quickly falling asleep. (He dreams of emerald green and murderers and birthday ponies.)
He wakes up several hours later in the darkened bullpen, alone and slightly disoriented. The dim light from Lisbon's office catches his eye, and as he stands up to go chastise her for working far too hard, he looks down at his feet and realizes something is missing.
"Oh, very good," he says wryly.
Lisbon looks up as Jane pushes the door to her office open. She smiles. "Nice to see you've finally decided to wake up."
Jane leans over her desk, fingers tapping against ink covered forms and sliding over her signatures. "Where are my shoes, Lisbon?" He goes for intimidating, but the way his mouth curves upward as he watches her totally destroys the effect.
She stares back at him evenly, allowing him to continue intruding her personal space. "Did you lose your shoes again, Jane?" she asks innocently.
He narrows his eyes at her. "You stole them from me."
Lisbon leans around her desk, looking down at his shoeless feet. "Is this going to be a continuing problem?" She arches a brow at him, barely able to contain her laughter. "Because really, I thought you'd be able to take better care of your shoes."
“You evaded my accusation.”
“Did I?” Lisbon sucks in a breath and looks momentarily contemplative. “Weird.”
Jane sinks down into the chair across from her, trying to remain serious, but really, Lisbon’s half-concealed laughter is contagious, and he can't help the chuckle that slips from his mouth. "I can tell you're lying to me, dear. I can see it in your eyes."
She straightens the mess of files on her desk, then looks up at him, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Do my eyes also tell you where your shoes are?"
Jane shifts in his seat, tapping his fingers restlessly against Lisbon's desk. "No."
"Hmm." She stands up, reaching for her jacket. "You must be losing your touch."
"Ha! So you admit to stealing my shoes."
quot;Did I say that?" she asks, grinning.
Jane slides his hands into his jacket pockets. "Well, you implied-"
"That's not the same thing, is it?" Lisbon says as she reaches the door and turns to look at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jane sighs, standing up and following after her, his fingers fluttering at her back. "Lisbon, where are my shoes?"
She gives a half-shrug and then starts to walk away from him, stopping when she hears Jane’s shoeless feet padding against the wooden floors. She turns around to face him, jumping when she realizes that he is now very close (too close) to her. “Jane...?” she stutters.
He leans in closer. “Lisbon,” he says in an almost sing-song voice, and she can feel his breath on her neck. “Tell. Me. Where. My. Shoes. Are.” (He watches as her eyes turn a darker shade of green, and there is something about this moment that feels important and earth shattering to him.)
Lisbon leans in toward him for half a second, and then she pokes him in the chest, effectively pushing him out of her personal space. Her fingers accidentally brush against the buttons of his vest, and Jane is so preoccupied by the spurt of heat that spills through his chest that he almost misses the affectionate smile she gives him.
"I guess you’ll just have to start looking," she stage whispers to him, and then she spins away, walking off down the hallway, her laughter trailing after her.
Title: A Mile in Your Shoes
Author: foreverwriting9
Characters/Pairings: Jane/Lisbon
Spoilers: For Pink Tops
Rating: G
Word Count: 912
Summary: “It’s like a bad joke, Jane,” she says, breathless. “A drug dealer, a dirty cop, and a shoeless consultant walk into a bar-”
-
Lisbon laughs for a very long time when they find Jane in the warehouse, shoeless, and surrounded by a drug dealer, his thugs, and a dirty cop.
Jane frowns at her. "It's not funny, Lisbon, my feet are cold."
She doesn't stop laughing even as she's cuffing a thug twice her size. "It's like a bad joke, Jane," she says, breathless. "A drug dealer, a dirty cop, and a shoeless consultant walk into a bar-"
"I'll be waiting in the car," Jane says petulantly, leaving the room before Lisbon can finish.
He's half-asleep when the driver side door swings open. Jane opens his eyes and watches Lisbon climb into the car, but he doesn't say anything because he's still slightly annoyed with her. She laughed. He was in a drug dealer's lair with cold, shoeless feet, he almost died, and she laughed at him. He'll probably never get over it.
Lisbon's gaze flicks down to Jane's socks, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward.
He sighs. "Go on, Lisbon, get it out. Laugh at the shoeless man who was almost killed today."
"Jane, if you had seen how ridiculous you looked, surrounded by all those murderers and villains, and shoeless to top it all off." She smiles at him. "I wish someone had taken pictures."
Jane groans, leaning his head back against his seat and closing his eyes. "I wish they'd shot me."
He hears Lisbon laugh softly, and then something lands on his lap, making him jump. He opens his eyes, only to find a pair of shoes sitting in front of him, and Lisbon grinning widely at him.
"My shoes?" he asks in disbelief, poking the familiar leather soles as if to make sure they're real.
Lisbon starts the car, smiling out the window as she pulls onto the road. "You're welcome."
When they finally arrive back at headquarters, Jane immediately escapes to the sanctity of his couch, stretching out and quickly falling asleep. (He dreams of emerald green and murderers and birthday ponies.)
He wakes up several hours later in the darkened bullpen, alone and slightly disoriented. The dim light from Lisbon's office catches his eye, and as he stands up to go chastise her for working far too hard, he looks down at his feet and realizes something is missing.
"Oh, very good," he says wryly.
Lisbon looks up as Jane pushes the door to her office open. She smiles. "Nice to see you've finally decided to wake up."
Jane leans over her desk, fingers tapping against ink covered forms and sliding over her signatures. "Where are my shoes, Lisbon?" He goes for intimidating, but the way his mouth curves upward as he watches her totally destroys the effect.
She stares back at him evenly, allowing him to continue intruding her personal space. "Did you lose your shoes again, Jane?" she asks innocently.
He narrows his eyes at her. "You stole them from me."
Lisbon leans around her desk, looking down at his shoeless feet. "Is this going to be a continuing problem?" She arches a brow at him, barely able to contain her laughter. "Because really, I thought you'd be able to take better care of your shoes."
“You evaded my accusation.”
“Did I?” Lisbon sucks in a breath and looks momentarily contemplative. “Weird.”
Jane sinks down into the chair across from her, trying to remain serious, but really, Lisbon’s half-concealed laughter is contagious, and he can't help the chuckle that slips from his mouth. "I can tell you're lying to me, dear. I can see it in your eyes."
She straightens the mess of files on her desk, then looks up at him, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Do my eyes also tell you where your shoes are?"
Jane shifts in his seat, tapping his fingers restlessly against Lisbon's desk. "No."
"Hmm." She stands up, reaching for her jacket. "You must be losing your touch."
"Ha! So you admit to stealing my shoes."
quot;Did I say that?" she asks, grinning.
Jane slides his hands into his jacket pockets. "Well, you implied-"
"That's not the same thing, is it?" Lisbon says as she reaches the door and turns to look at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jane sighs, standing up and following after her, his fingers fluttering at her back. "Lisbon, where are my shoes?"
She gives a half-shrug and then starts to walk away from him, stopping when she hears Jane’s shoeless feet padding against the wooden floors. She turns around to face him, jumping when she realizes that he is now very close (too close) to her. “Jane...?” she stutters.
He leans in closer. “Lisbon,” he says in an almost sing-song voice, and she can feel his breath on her neck. “Tell. Me. Where. My. Shoes. Are.” (He watches as her eyes turn a darker shade of green, and there is something about this moment that feels important and earth shattering to him.)
Lisbon leans in toward him for half a second, and then she pokes him in the chest, effectively pushing him out of her personal space. Her fingers accidentally brush against the buttons of his vest, and Jane is so preoccupied by the spurt of heat that spills through his chest that he almost misses the affectionate smile she gives him.
"I guess you’ll just have to start looking," she stage whispers to him, and then she spins away, walking off down the hallway, her laughter trailing after her.