[the Mentalist, Big Bang fan-fic] Tricking Stella- Accidentally Engaged part 2 and 3
Discalimers and notes: see part one...
[Part 1]
It was another few days (classic of Jane to tell her everything at the last moment, when he did tell her things at all, that it was) before he welcomed her in his so-called “humble home”, in sight of the incoming farce.
Lisbon had already been there once, few months prior, in the wake of the trial, still hurt and mad beyond reason, when, after having purchasing the place, on Van pelt’s insistence, exasperated by her puppy dog eyes and a bit sorry for all her broken hearts (a couple of them caused indirectly by him) Jane accepted to give a small party (i.e. allowed the redhead to arrange one) to Christian the home, but, still, it was like Lisbon was seeing it for the first time, with new eyes, noticing things she hadn’t noticed the first time around, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react to the meaning of these things she was seeing. Also because she wasn’t even sure if he had done them deliberately or unconsciously.
His new places didn’t fit the description of the classic bachelor home; actually, if she had to be completely honest, she was almost completely sure that this kind of house was more fitting for a family than a man who wasn’t planning to have a family at all, never ever, not again, at least; it wasn’t simply for the numerous rooms (at least 4), the huge garden (where she could easily see a small homely playground) nor the perfect and quiet neighborhood, close to few of the best schools in the area, from kindergarten to High School.
It was some kind of vibe she could feel, though, it was like from the darkness Jane had fallen prisoner of for so long, a long time before, he was finally starting to see the light - hope - yet again, almost free but not there yet. And it was so sad, that she couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that he was finally embracing the light of hope, well aware that, once done it, he’d be free, able to build a better future for himself and for the woman at his side, a woman she knew couldn’t be herself, definitely the last candidate Jane would have chosen.
“Stella will be here tomorrow. Until then, make yourself at home and feel free to explore. I know that there’s not a lot of time, but, I’d be glad if you could give your personal touch here and there…you have your things, right?” His words, his tone, transmitted that he was somehow radiant, but shy and at easy (in his pitch black apron) at the same time, Lisbon realized it as soon as he opened his mouth; but, as often with Jane, he didn’t gave her too long to analyze the situation, since, once opened her the door, he just vanished, immediately, back into the kitchen, waiting silently for her to follow him, forgetting everything about her baggage, left all alone in the hallway.
She didn’t enter, though, preferring to lean against the doorframe to give a look at that man she knew from almost a decade, study him in the same way he always did with the rest of the world- something he’d find unnerving, quite surely - captivated by the sight of him, busy working through the stoves with the same almighty abilities he had in almost every other field, like he was some sort of magician able to do everything; she was, though, broken hearted as well, almost on the verge of tears for the knowledge that this new, rare and somehow unexpected breath-taking show (the sight of domestic Jane, Patrick, the sight of the easiness with which he navigated through the stoves, his brio) was something she wasn’t going to see again, that, one day, another woman would be witnessing it. Another woman. Not her.
“So… what did you tell Stella, about us, I mean?” it took her what looked like an eternity to finally formulate the words, any words, and when she did, eyes focused on the pavement, she was grateful God was listening to her prayers, grateful that Jane was busy cooking and wasn’t looking at her, seeing her, noticing all the signs that could give away her feelings, her unrequited and painful love for that astonishing man.
“Uhm, I told her your name, that we met once I joined the CBI, but that I waited till you know whom was dead before making a move on you, because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, and also because I was sure I wasn’t worth your affection. Actually, I still think it from time to time, but you always reassure me I’m wrong.” he answered at low voice, almost a whisper, with a strange tone, something she couldn’t understand the reason behind, like she couldn’t fathom the reason behind the small nervous laughter he did before adding another short sentence. “I thought to stay as close as possible to the truth.”
The truth, she thought, the truth was that they weren’t a couple, and she was almost sure that the possibilities for them to become one were less than zero, especially on Jane’s side, because he was Patrick Jane, and she was… she was just Teresa Lisbon, a CBI agent he used and was still using, even for different reasons. “That’s all?” she asked, the delusion so clear in her voice he didn’t need to turn and look at her to actually see the emotion hidden behind such a simple statement, a couple of words. “I’d third degree Tommy if he’d come to me announcing his impeding wedding, like any other nosey sister would”
“She may or may not have asked me how you are” he smiled of an honest smile, his features enlightened by his good mood, and she got close, closer and closer, joined him at his side, putting a finger into the spicy sauce he was working on and licking it at closed eyes, moaning in pleasure, shivers pervading his very being as he stared at her, still standing, irregular breathing, irregular heart-beat, and thoughts invading his mind, indecent fantasies of the two of them and that brand new bed he had barely used until then, and always alone anyway. “And, Uhm, that you are nice and funny, devoted to your work, your friends and your family”
As he said those words, he moved to take a serviette on the counter in the same instant she did, fingers touched, eyes met, breath died into their throats, and he spoke, he started to speak again, his voice deep and low, while he interlaced their fingers together, drawing invisibles patterns on her knuckles, his eyes lost into her ones, a smile full of sadness because she knew it was just temporary, just a lie, and he wasn’t hers, couldn’t be hers. “I told her she’ll get why I want to marry again as soon as she’ll see you.” He stopped and stared, like he only noticed back then what he was actually doing, like he was scared by the sudden intimacy, and tried to joke, to be light, proving to himself he wasn’t the great performer he had always claimed to be. “ we’ll be lucky if she’ll not try to force us into getting married while she is here”
“Yeah, and we don’t want it…” she managed to answer, a feeble smile on her face, once sat in front of him at the table, busy just playing with the food, unable to get to actually start eating, no interest or want whatsoever.
“Yeah, we definitely don’t want that….” His answer was flat, no sign of smile, no trace of joke, like he wasn’t really there. A though that crossed her mind once again a good minute later, when he left the room, leaving her alone to study the emptiness of the kitchen and the lack of sound, wondering what was going on, what she had done…. Maybe it was too much for him, maybe he thought that the farce was contaminating the memory of his time like an husband, a real one, the time spent at the side of his beloved late wife, definitely not simple and boring Teresa Lisbon, who was so different from Angela, a princess among royalties in her own, little world.
“Jane?” she called after him, a slight note of panic in her voice that raised when the thought of him, regretting the show, crossed her mind. She knew there wasn’t any reason to think it, to consider it, but… she was scared, she didn’t want for it to be over so soon, couldn’t allow it, not yet. She still needed him, Patrick, her fake boyfriend for a couple of days, even if just to send that colossal unrequired love out of her system once and for all. Who knew, maybe getting to know the “real” him could have helped her into opening her eyes, maybe he sucked at being a boyfriend and he wasn’t that good in his domestic version as he seemed to be…
“I need your hand” she heard his voice before she could see him coming back into the kitchen, and before she could realize it, he was sitting at her side, a red and gold jewelry box now on the table, right in front of her. Lisbon immediately understood what was hidden behind the velvet, she didn’t need to look inside for getting it. Still, grinning mischievously at her awe expression, he opened the box, and took her left hand into his lap to confirm her suspicions.
She blushed, mesmerized by the sight, as he slowly put the ring on her finger, with attention, finesse and something she couldn’t even give a name to. She hardly stuttered the words, unable to recognize her own voice, turned into something alien for the hurricane of emotions going through her. “There…. There was no need for…for this…..”
“Ah, please, Stella would have never believed us without a proper ring on your finger.” He studied her, lost into the sight not of Teresa as a whole, but only of the ring on her finger, and he knew, he just did, that she was, or at least seemed, astonished as well, as lost as he was in the sight of Jane’s hands around hers, warm, protective, secure, so gone she didn’t saw his eyes on her. “I hope you don’t mind if I didn’t choose diamonds, but, despite being considered a girl’s best friends, they don’t fit you, they are cold, something that you…. Definitely are not. Do you like this?” she bit her lips as her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the ring and the joined hands, traitorous tears ready to emerge from her irises, she didn’t know if it was because of the ring- yellow gold, quite antique, with emeralds and pearls, simple but classy, somehow a perfect match in style to the old cross at her neck - or because of his tone, so anxious like he was really proposing to the woman of his life, of his dreams.
“It’s beautiful” she finally elaborated, eyes meeting, the green of her irises identical to the emeralds, as bright and shiny as the stones on the ring, and he gulped silently, unable to look away from the vision that was taking place right before him, a dream that was, in some kind of twisted way, coming true, even if it was just a lie for the both of them, and he had to fight it, the impulse of getting closer and closer, putting his lips on her owns, tasting her, enjoying her, and it was such a strong temptation that he got that close to give up and surrender to his own selfish needs. “It’s perfect, I adore it”
If you were proposing me, we would be kissing right now. She thought, without stopping to stare at him. She had always had problems, when it came to staring at him, but now, it was getting worse. So she did just it- she stared at him, eyes in the eyes, and he shivered, because it was simple, looking at each other, but now it was full of so many meanings, old and new and never faced before, and he couldn’t do it, so he looked away, left the table, left the room, scared by the very idea of falling victim to carnal temptation, something he couldn’t do, not with her, because she needed someone better than him, and it wasn’t right for him as well, and it was embarrassing enough as things were, there was no reason to make them worse, because she had been nice and sweet into helping him out, and he couldn’t do it, seducing her, risking for her to believe it was all just a game, that she was just a game, a mean to an end, nor he could survive thinking he’d be just another nameless one night stand by alcohol induced stupor in some Sacramento dirty tavern, the guy she had fun with while waiting for the love of her life to arrive on his white horse, a love that couldn’t be him, because Teresa Lisbon was someone he couldn’t lose, wasn’t ready to give up whatever there was between them yet, even if it meant never love her, but doing so always from afar, always in secret.
“Uhm, listen Lisbon, I was thinking, as long as Stella is here, well, we should share a room, my bedroom, I mean. It’s just that, Stella knows me, and that, despite the appearance of my impeccable look, I’m not that old fashioned, at least not in… that department, and, uhm, I doubt she could believe that we are engaged to be married, living under the same roof, but, uhm, not sharing even the same bedroom, so…” he was scratching the back of his head nervously, pacing the place, but, as soon as he made “the offer”, he stopped, and turned to face her. She was red, oh so red, blushing as deep as a rose because of the sinful images populating her mind, embarrassed beyond reason, full of hope, hope that he couldn’t really read minds. “I mean, share a room as in sleeping, as in, actually sleeping, as much as we can, with me being a chronic insomniac, and you having to settle down in a new bed. I mean, you know, sharing a room, platonically speaking, of course.”
Yes, because that’s the only thing you want to do with me….unfortunately. She lamented inside her own mind, deluded, hoping he couldn’t hear her suspires from where he was, but too busy putting plates inside the dishwasher, putting everything back to really get to care, to even just think about it for real - it was her little secret, whenever she felt this way, she’d start ordering the place, and just because that was Jane’s place it didn’t mean it was any different.
When he strolled, nervous and a bit uncomfortable, into his alcove, it took her a while to join him in there, her attempts at calming down, erasing her thoughts having failed miserably. She still had that weight upon her shoulders, still felt it, tired, so tired like she hadn’t been in a long time, tempted to shout at him, begging between tears to make her dreams come true, begging him to sign her, to mark her, to take her, spending hours and hours making love together, until they wouldn’t be fully sated of pleasure of beatitude, without a gram of energy left in them.
“If you want, I can take my pillow and sleep on the pavement…” again he scratched the back of his head while talking, low voice, sad voice, already taking a pajama from the wardrobe, not his favorite one but a nice light blue, a nuance so strange it could seemed sometimes blue, sometimes of some green, more fitting for her, so similar to her eyes, than his. But then again, even his eyes could change color, sometimes green, sometimes blue, according to the light, according to the mood. She would have liked it, he just knew it.
She didn’t answered immediately, didn’t know how to, so she simply dumped her suitcase on the bed, ready to undo it, already regretting the lack of something sexy inside it, between her whole possessions. She didn’t need to, after all, with her casual adventures, with him not being interested, with him knowing too well she used to sleep in jerseys, gifts of her brothers, that he had already seen his good share of along the years.
“I don’t know, I mean, if Stella is so similar to you as you say, I’d not be surprised if she’d come in without knocking first, just to have a look at us cuddling together in bed in the middle of the night!” she screamed it, because she was no longer there, disappeared into the ensuite bathroom to come back ready in just a matter of minutes, eyes glued on Jane, on his back, the man sitting on the edge of the bed, she guessed his side, uneasy. “Jane, this bed is huge, and I doubt you’ll try to feel me up in my sleep!” she laughed, hysterically, false, finally convincing him to join her under the covers (without too much convincing), standing on his side, or at least, what she assumed was his side… the side opposite to the one she usually slept. Typical of Jane, she thought, knowing everything, understanding everything. Even her feelings, maybe? She didn’t know. She hoped not… fate couldn’t hate so much!
“Goodnight, then” he said while turning off the light, perplexed, still uneasy, the only sound the one of the bed, creaking under their weight as they tried to get comfortable at each other’s side.
“You too” she whispered, but taking a breath so big that he couldn’t miss it. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that the man she loved more than her own life was so close to her, mere centimeters, lying in a bed engulfed by darkness and silence; the same bed where she was, the same bed where, she knew, sleep was going to elude her.
When she woke up, she didn’t know what time it was. She wasn’t sure, and neither she cared. What mattered, what she noticed, was that, sometimes, during their sleep, she and Jane had orbited towards each other: like she used to do at home, in her own bed, she was sleeping on her side, but right now there was few differences, because her back wasn’t against the cold air any longer, but a firm chest, she had a strong and muscular arm around her waist, and on her neck, on her long, dark hair, she could feel a quiet, regular and hot breath, the air leaving his body, Jane’s body. It was, somehow, an alien sensation, one almost forgotten, and never felt so strongly, and it was so sudden, so powerful, that it awoke in her wishes she had kept hidden for long, too long, wishes and… needs.
She didn’t thought, just acted on her impulses, when, slowly, she turned into his embrace, and felt mixed emotions filling her very being when she realized that her movements weren’t awakening him: she was happy, for Jane, because she had always knew of his issues with insomnia and his recurring nightmares, lasted almost a decade, almost driving him crazy, but she was also sad, and a tad disappointed, when she saw that he wasn’t reacting in any way to her presence, her female body pressed against his male one, definitely the opposite of the behavior she was keeping.
She hadn’t ended to think about this that he did react to her presence, only, not as she had hoped, definitely not: he turned, falling against the mattress on his back with a heavy thud, a moan escaping his beautiful and full lips like he was talking out loud in his sleep. It drove her mad, thinking that even his subconscious was trying to stay away from her, not getting closer, not allowing her that embrace, just that, an embrace, her biggest wish.
Lisbon’s eyes fell again on his lips. She couldn’t help but looking at them, staring at them, in the semidarkness of the room, her mind was set on a vision, something she knew was wrong and so many other things, but…. A kiss. She wanted to kiss him, only once, just to know how it felt, being kissed by him, the man who could read everyone and knew everything. She was sure he could be a great lover, a master, a virtuoso… she needed to know, needed to feel it, even if it was wrong, even if it was dangerous. But she still needed it, couldn’t live without it. And she knew, deep down, that it was now or never.
She cuddled against him, her hands on his warm chest, so hot she could feel his warmth through the cotton of his shirt, and moved her lips to his neck, letting them stay there, closing her eyes in bliss to better enjoy, better feel the moment, the experience of breathing him in, that unique essence that was him and him only, Patrick Jane.
Leaving a trail of small and light kisses, her lips moved on their own volition to his jaw, while her hands went under his shirt, to feel his still toned chest, his still well definite muscles in the flesh, and she knew. She knew it was wrong and she knew it was dangerous, she kept repeating it, again and again, but she still couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself, it was too late, she was playing with the fire, she was going to suffer, to get burned, but she had to go on, because he was simply too much. Jane was her favorite drug, and she was already addicted to the pleasure, the emotion that touching him gave her.
When her lips moved again, still on their own volition, to his throat, she stopped to think, stopped to calculate, stopped to pull back, and her kisses, they turned into open-mouthed, wet ones, and in bites of pure pleasure and lust; her hands started to unbutton his shirt, greedier and greedier, the breathing of the man underneath her now stifled, broken… and frozen.
She opened her eyes, wide with terror, sure that he was going to push her away, leave, to never come back to her ever again, because, under her, Jane was fully awake, blue-green orbs staring back at her with mixed emotions, and no thoughts at all, empty of reason, full of passion, lust, desire, and need.
He forced her body flush against his own so that she could feel by herself the force if his desire for her, the effects she had on him, and insinuated a traitor hand under the red shirt, that shirt that she didn’t know, but was hunting his dreams from a long time, years of hidden and secret passion kept under control only out in the open but never in his dreams and his heart. He explored the surrendering flesh of the woman, the warm and alive skin, making it even warmer with a single pass of his fingertips, palming and stroking and even just skimming her breasts and back and stomach. The other hand followed the caveman side of his brain, going directly into her hair, dark as the night, that scent of vanilla and cinnamon that drove him crazy, always had; he lifted her head, so that they were staring back at each other eyes in the eyes, but it didn’t last long. Not because the contact stopped. But because it became more personal, more physical, more lust-filled.
In a world empty of reason and thoughts, their lips found each other, skimming again and again and again in what seemed an infinite dance, but they both wanted more, needed more. His lips were hot, burning like fire on hers, persuasive; the excitation was rising, liquid heat in their veins, almost boiling; their kisses were frantic, were greedy, especially on his side, like they needed to make up for the lost time, like they were scared of losing other precious time and couldn’t afford it.
He reluctantly pulled away, released her lips when he went for the murdering hit, discharging her clothes on the pavement - she kept her breath, trying to not think about it, to wait for when it was going to be over, because she couldn’t afford it right now. Right now she wanted to think just about one matter and one matter only: Jane, the one she had wanted for so long, claiming her, taking her, marking her.
She wanted, she needed for them to be one, even just for once, so she reciprocated his actions, undressing the blonde, and when he started kissing her, touching her, becoming one with her, again and again, she lost herself in the sensation, in the unstoppable pleasure that Jane moving placid but firm in her was going to bring her, that edge she could almost feel on the tip of her tongue, from feet to hair; it had been a long time, so long, for both of them, and it was intense, so intense, that they both knew they couldn’t last. But, strange enough, both didn’t care. The duration wasn’t what was important right now, it was the act in itself, pure and simple, not because they wanted it to be over, but because they needed to share that special, precious, moment together.
It was just few minutes before he suffocated the seemingly endless primordial scream of orgasm by biting the tender skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulders, by hiding his face in the valley between Lisbon’s breasts, Lisbon, so willing to vocalize that pleasure so along desired, foretasted, dreamt of- it didn’t last long, though, because, before she could fully come down from her high, Jane, stark naked, jerked away from her with a quick feline movement, going to sit on the opposite side of the bed, far away from Lisbon.
Lisbon, who still joined him, going at his side, staying in the nude at his back.
“Jane…” she whispered, barely touching his shoulder, her fingers lingering on the hot and sweating skin full of pheromones, fear for the disgust, sufferance for the rejection but happiness covered by a tiny veil of shame present inside the tiny woman mixed together. “Jane, I’m sorry...I…I got carried away.”
“It’s the same for me” he answered her with a quiet whisper, trying to scroll his shoulders in a fake attempt at nonchalance, but failing miserably. “I’m sorry Lisbon, I didn’t want for that to happen. I’m really sorry, I should have never done it.”
“Do you… do you really? Regret it…” she was disappointed and extremely sad, and he didn’t need to be a mentalist to know it, he didn’t even need to look at her. It was all in her voice, in the voice of that woman who couldn’t bring herself to stop staring at his sweating back.
He slightly turned so that she could see him. “No” he answered with honesty, his lips graced by a true smile, a malicious and mischievous light. “But we can’t deny we’ve been both been a bit irresponsible. We rushed so quickly into this, that we didn’t even think about…” he cursed, fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp. “I could have gotten you pregnant with my stupidity!”
“I’m on the pill, you silly idiot, I’m not such an irresponsible like someone here, you know?” there was a smile on her lips, a smile in her voice as she answered him, the sexually satisfied woman somehow reassured he didn’t regret it- it didn’t matter the reason, what mattered was that he didn’t labeled it as a mere mistake, something to forget, to pretend it never existed, never happened. It had to be enough, even if….
She didn’t regret it, Lisbon was sure of it, and knowing that he didn’t as well was a balsam for her soul, but, still, she was fighting a battle inside her very soul, a battle she couldn’t foresee the outcome of, because there was one question, and one question only, running wild inside her head: how was she supposed to survive without that, without him? It was simple: she wasn’t ready yet, so, she had to take charge of the situation, before he could come back to his senses, before he’d ask her to never allow it to repeat, ever again. “Jane, we didn’t harm anyone. And… we are both adults, and there’s nothing wrong with what we did, and I think that, considering that we do have to share a bed for few days anyway…” her hands explored yet again his body, this time naked skin, this time with a purely lust-induced aim, her lips nipped the skin of his neck, his shoulders, his earlobe, Jane’s eyes closed to fully master the sensation, “I think we should take advantage of the situation, until Stella is here…”
“Yes, and there’s no reason to… it’s not necessary for us…. We are adults and we can… deal with this…situation….in an adult way like the responsible adults we both are…” words merely escaped his mouth. Words that didn’t represent him, his dreams, his hopes. He hoped she knew. He feared she didn’t.
“I’m just sorry I woke you up…” she barely said the words, barely any sound left her mouth as she straddled his hips between moans of sheer ecstasy.
“Is that so?” with a quick move, eyes as huge as saucer, he exchanged position, sending her on her back, his body flat against her own, covering her with his weight, so, so welcome, so nice and utterly beautiful inside out, ready to carry on as long as she needed it, ready to wait until she wasn’t ready to have him yet again.
“Nope” she smiled with malice at the words, her lips once again on his own, and she attacked him, marking him as hers like he had done with her.
***
She woke up many hours later, as soon as she heard the sound of the alarm - one of those old traps, so fifties, so Jane-ish - feeling satisfied and sated but disappointed, the side of the bed opposite to hers cold and empty, void of the man who had filled her with his warm for the whole night.
Her hand reached that empty spot, trying to find it, the remaining warmth left by him when he had left, but it wasn’t a sensation, a feeling she found on the pillow, his pillow. It was a note, elegantly written with a fountain pen, black ink, on a plain white sheet.
I’m gone to the airport - I let you sleep in for once, you need it. Hope you’ll not mind, but I really didn’t feel like disturb you. See you later-soon.
Just few words, and not one about the hot night shared, something that, though, Teresa didn’t see, couldn’t bother to consider, too busy panicking noticing how late it actually was. Sleep in, he had said in the note. And that was the result.
She opened her eyes, widely, dilated pupils because of the panic, out of fear, and not of desire like the previous evening, and she run, run into the bathroom without even bothering to get dressed, stark naked, concentrated on the quick shower she needed to take to clean herself from his scent, on the makeup she knew she was going to need afterwards to hide his marks, the visible ones, the hickeys on her neck, on her shoulders, the bruises on her skin, where he had gripped her the night before while he possessed her with wild abandon….
Don’t think about that. Think about all the things you still need to do. She reprimanded herself while washing away the cinnamon soap from her skin, from her hair, just allowing herself for a brief second to wonder how he could know the exact brand she used, just to getting angry at herself once again because she wasn’t supposed to think about him. Lisbon knew she needed to think about the place, about all the small details she had to improve to make it look like her own, hoping that Stella could actually believe that it was their love nest.
Still, it was pointless. It wasn’t just the fact that everything around her screamed, somehow, “Jane” at her, it was that even what she did was screaming the name at her. Like the green shirt she was putting on- it was one he had complimented her about time before. She couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t stop thinking about him. And thinking about him, made her think about her own feelings.
She wasn’t going to lie- she had always liked Jane, but it had been a while since “liking” had turned into “loving”, not just like that, but, slowly. It had been a long process, she reckoned, a feeling blossomed in almost a decade’s time, deepening a bit more every time Jane allowed her to see Patrick behind his mask, just to appear one day as a whole being, pros and cons.
She smiled, last button buttoned. Because the fact that he had allowed her to see not through him but him, directly, that he had been open and honest with her and her only had given her hope; she had hoped that things were different, that his feelings for her went beyond friendship. But love? He had never given her sign of being in love with her, and even with the night before, she didn’t know what to say, what to think. She wasn’t a child any longer, she knew that sex didn’t equal love.
She knew that she had made love to him, but what about him? She wasn’t sure, and, frankly, as right as it had felt, as much as she still thought it was right, she couldn’t help but fear the repercussions of her actions. Here they were, but what was going to happen to them after Stella’s departure? The woman was supposed to stay only one week, and now Lisbon couldn’t stop thinking that she could have lost him, her best friend, for few hours of pleasure and bliss….
[Part 1]
It was another few days (classic of Jane to tell her everything at the last moment, when he did tell her things at all, that it was) before he welcomed her in his so-called “humble home”, in sight of the incoming farce.
Lisbon had already been there once, few months prior, in the wake of the trial, still hurt and mad beyond reason, when, after having purchasing the place, on Van pelt’s insistence, exasperated by her puppy dog eyes and a bit sorry for all her broken hearts (a couple of them caused indirectly by him) Jane accepted to give a small party (i.e. allowed the redhead to arrange one) to Christian the home, but, still, it was like Lisbon was seeing it for the first time, with new eyes, noticing things she hadn’t noticed the first time around, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react to the meaning of these things she was seeing. Also because she wasn’t even sure if he had done them deliberately or unconsciously.
His new places didn’t fit the description of the classic bachelor home; actually, if she had to be completely honest, she was almost completely sure that this kind of house was more fitting for a family than a man who wasn’t planning to have a family at all, never ever, not again, at least; it wasn’t simply for the numerous rooms (at least 4), the huge garden (where she could easily see a small homely playground) nor the perfect and quiet neighborhood, close to few of the best schools in the area, from kindergarten to High School.
It was some kind of vibe she could feel, though, it was like from the darkness Jane had fallen prisoner of for so long, a long time before, he was finally starting to see the light - hope - yet again, almost free but not there yet. And it was so sad, that she couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that he was finally embracing the light of hope, well aware that, once done it, he’d be free, able to build a better future for himself and for the woman at his side, a woman she knew couldn’t be herself, definitely the last candidate Jane would have chosen.
“Stella will be here tomorrow. Until then, make yourself at home and feel free to explore. I know that there’s not a lot of time, but, I’d be glad if you could give your personal touch here and there…you have your things, right?” His words, his tone, transmitted that he was somehow radiant, but shy and at easy (in his pitch black apron) at the same time, Lisbon realized it as soon as he opened his mouth; but, as often with Jane, he didn’t gave her too long to analyze the situation, since, once opened her the door, he just vanished, immediately, back into the kitchen, waiting silently for her to follow him, forgetting everything about her baggage, left all alone in the hallway.
She didn’t enter, though, preferring to lean against the doorframe to give a look at that man she knew from almost a decade, study him in the same way he always did with the rest of the world- something he’d find unnerving, quite surely - captivated by the sight of him, busy working through the stoves with the same almighty abilities he had in almost every other field, like he was some sort of magician able to do everything; she was, though, broken hearted as well, almost on the verge of tears for the knowledge that this new, rare and somehow unexpected breath-taking show (the sight of domestic Jane, Patrick, the sight of the easiness with which he navigated through the stoves, his brio) was something she wasn’t going to see again, that, one day, another woman would be witnessing it. Another woman. Not her.
“So… what did you tell Stella, about us, I mean?” it took her what looked like an eternity to finally formulate the words, any words, and when she did, eyes focused on the pavement, she was grateful God was listening to her prayers, grateful that Jane was busy cooking and wasn’t looking at her, seeing her, noticing all the signs that could give away her feelings, her unrequited and painful love for that astonishing man.
“Uhm, I told her your name, that we met once I joined the CBI, but that I waited till you know whom was dead before making a move on you, because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, and also because I was sure I wasn’t worth your affection. Actually, I still think it from time to time, but you always reassure me I’m wrong.” he answered at low voice, almost a whisper, with a strange tone, something she couldn’t understand the reason behind, like she couldn’t fathom the reason behind the small nervous laughter he did before adding another short sentence. “I thought to stay as close as possible to the truth.”
The truth, she thought, the truth was that they weren’t a couple, and she was almost sure that the possibilities for them to become one were less than zero, especially on Jane’s side, because he was Patrick Jane, and she was… she was just Teresa Lisbon, a CBI agent he used and was still using, even for different reasons. “That’s all?” she asked, the delusion so clear in her voice he didn’t need to turn and look at her to actually see the emotion hidden behind such a simple statement, a couple of words. “I’d third degree Tommy if he’d come to me announcing his impeding wedding, like any other nosey sister would”
“She may or may not have asked me how you are” he smiled of an honest smile, his features enlightened by his good mood, and she got close, closer and closer, joined him at his side, putting a finger into the spicy sauce he was working on and licking it at closed eyes, moaning in pleasure, shivers pervading his very being as he stared at her, still standing, irregular breathing, irregular heart-beat, and thoughts invading his mind, indecent fantasies of the two of them and that brand new bed he had barely used until then, and always alone anyway. “And, Uhm, that you are nice and funny, devoted to your work, your friends and your family”
As he said those words, he moved to take a serviette on the counter in the same instant she did, fingers touched, eyes met, breath died into their throats, and he spoke, he started to speak again, his voice deep and low, while he interlaced their fingers together, drawing invisibles patterns on her knuckles, his eyes lost into her ones, a smile full of sadness because she knew it was just temporary, just a lie, and he wasn’t hers, couldn’t be hers. “I told her she’ll get why I want to marry again as soon as she’ll see you.” He stopped and stared, like he only noticed back then what he was actually doing, like he was scared by the sudden intimacy, and tried to joke, to be light, proving to himself he wasn’t the great performer he had always claimed to be. “ we’ll be lucky if she’ll not try to force us into getting married while she is here”
“Yeah, and we don’t want it…” she managed to answer, a feeble smile on her face, once sat in front of him at the table, busy just playing with the food, unable to get to actually start eating, no interest or want whatsoever.
“Yeah, we definitely don’t want that….” His answer was flat, no sign of smile, no trace of joke, like he wasn’t really there. A though that crossed her mind once again a good minute later, when he left the room, leaving her alone to study the emptiness of the kitchen and the lack of sound, wondering what was going on, what she had done…. Maybe it was too much for him, maybe he thought that the farce was contaminating the memory of his time like an husband, a real one, the time spent at the side of his beloved late wife, definitely not simple and boring Teresa Lisbon, who was so different from Angela, a princess among royalties in her own, little world.
“Jane?” she called after him, a slight note of panic in her voice that raised when the thought of him, regretting the show, crossed her mind. She knew there wasn’t any reason to think it, to consider it, but… she was scared, she didn’t want for it to be over so soon, couldn’t allow it, not yet. She still needed him, Patrick, her fake boyfriend for a couple of days, even if just to send that colossal unrequired love out of her system once and for all. Who knew, maybe getting to know the “real” him could have helped her into opening her eyes, maybe he sucked at being a boyfriend and he wasn’t that good in his domestic version as he seemed to be…
“I need your hand” she heard his voice before she could see him coming back into the kitchen, and before she could realize it, he was sitting at her side, a red and gold jewelry box now on the table, right in front of her. Lisbon immediately understood what was hidden behind the velvet, she didn’t need to look inside for getting it. Still, grinning mischievously at her awe expression, he opened the box, and took her left hand into his lap to confirm her suspicions.
She blushed, mesmerized by the sight, as he slowly put the ring on her finger, with attention, finesse and something she couldn’t even give a name to. She hardly stuttered the words, unable to recognize her own voice, turned into something alien for the hurricane of emotions going through her. “There…. There was no need for…for this…..”
“Ah, please, Stella would have never believed us without a proper ring on your finger.” He studied her, lost into the sight not of Teresa as a whole, but only of the ring on her finger, and he knew, he just did, that she was, or at least seemed, astonished as well, as lost as he was in the sight of Jane’s hands around hers, warm, protective, secure, so gone she didn’t saw his eyes on her. “I hope you don’t mind if I didn’t choose diamonds, but, despite being considered a girl’s best friends, they don’t fit you, they are cold, something that you…. Definitely are not. Do you like this?” she bit her lips as her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the ring and the joined hands, traitorous tears ready to emerge from her irises, she didn’t know if it was because of the ring- yellow gold, quite antique, with emeralds and pearls, simple but classy, somehow a perfect match in style to the old cross at her neck - or because of his tone, so anxious like he was really proposing to the woman of his life, of his dreams.
“It’s beautiful” she finally elaborated, eyes meeting, the green of her irises identical to the emeralds, as bright and shiny as the stones on the ring, and he gulped silently, unable to look away from the vision that was taking place right before him, a dream that was, in some kind of twisted way, coming true, even if it was just a lie for the both of them, and he had to fight it, the impulse of getting closer and closer, putting his lips on her owns, tasting her, enjoying her, and it was such a strong temptation that he got that close to give up and surrender to his own selfish needs. “It’s perfect, I adore it”
If you were proposing me, we would be kissing right now. She thought, without stopping to stare at him. She had always had problems, when it came to staring at him, but now, it was getting worse. So she did just it- she stared at him, eyes in the eyes, and he shivered, because it was simple, looking at each other, but now it was full of so many meanings, old and new and never faced before, and he couldn’t do it, so he looked away, left the table, left the room, scared by the very idea of falling victim to carnal temptation, something he couldn’t do, not with her, because she needed someone better than him, and it wasn’t right for him as well, and it was embarrassing enough as things were, there was no reason to make them worse, because she had been nice and sweet into helping him out, and he couldn’t do it, seducing her, risking for her to believe it was all just a game, that she was just a game, a mean to an end, nor he could survive thinking he’d be just another nameless one night stand by alcohol induced stupor in some Sacramento dirty tavern, the guy she had fun with while waiting for the love of her life to arrive on his white horse, a love that couldn’t be him, because Teresa Lisbon was someone he couldn’t lose, wasn’t ready to give up whatever there was between them yet, even if it meant never love her, but doing so always from afar, always in secret.
“Uhm, listen Lisbon, I was thinking, as long as Stella is here, well, we should share a room, my bedroom, I mean. It’s just that, Stella knows me, and that, despite the appearance of my impeccable look, I’m not that old fashioned, at least not in… that department, and, uhm, I doubt she could believe that we are engaged to be married, living under the same roof, but, uhm, not sharing even the same bedroom, so…” he was scratching the back of his head nervously, pacing the place, but, as soon as he made “the offer”, he stopped, and turned to face her. She was red, oh so red, blushing as deep as a rose because of the sinful images populating her mind, embarrassed beyond reason, full of hope, hope that he couldn’t really read minds. “I mean, share a room as in sleeping, as in, actually sleeping, as much as we can, with me being a chronic insomniac, and you having to settle down in a new bed. I mean, you know, sharing a room, platonically speaking, of course.”
Yes, because that’s the only thing you want to do with me….unfortunately. She lamented inside her own mind, deluded, hoping he couldn’t hear her suspires from where he was, but too busy putting plates inside the dishwasher, putting everything back to really get to care, to even just think about it for real - it was her little secret, whenever she felt this way, she’d start ordering the place, and just because that was Jane’s place it didn’t mean it was any different.
When he strolled, nervous and a bit uncomfortable, into his alcove, it took her a while to join him in there, her attempts at calming down, erasing her thoughts having failed miserably. She still had that weight upon her shoulders, still felt it, tired, so tired like she hadn’t been in a long time, tempted to shout at him, begging between tears to make her dreams come true, begging him to sign her, to mark her, to take her, spending hours and hours making love together, until they wouldn’t be fully sated of pleasure of beatitude, without a gram of energy left in them.
“If you want, I can take my pillow and sleep on the pavement…” again he scratched the back of his head while talking, low voice, sad voice, already taking a pajama from the wardrobe, not his favorite one but a nice light blue, a nuance so strange it could seemed sometimes blue, sometimes of some green, more fitting for her, so similar to her eyes, than his. But then again, even his eyes could change color, sometimes green, sometimes blue, according to the light, according to the mood. She would have liked it, he just knew it.
She didn’t answered immediately, didn’t know how to, so she simply dumped her suitcase on the bed, ready to undo it, already regretting the lack of something sexy inside it, between her whole possessions. She didn’t need to, after all, with her casual adventures, with him not being interested, with him knowing too well she used to sleep in jerseys, gifts of her brothers, that he had already seen his good share of along the years.
“I don’t know, I mean, if Stella is so similar to you as you say, I’d not be surprised if she’d come in without knocking first, just to have a look at us cuddling together in bed in the middle of the night!” she screamed it, because she was no longer there, disappeared into the ensuite bathroom to come back ready in just a matter of minutes, eyes glued on Jane, on his back, the man sitting on the edge of the bed, she guessed his side, uneasy. “Jane, this bed is huge, and I doubt you’ll try to feel me up in my sleep!” she laughed, hysterically, false, finally convincing him to join her under the covers (without too much convincing), standing on his side, or at least, what she assumed was his side… the side opposite to the one she usually slept. Typical of Jane, she thought, knowing everything, understanding everything. Even her feelings, maybe? She didn’t know. She hoped not… fate couldn’t hate so much!
“Goodnight, then” he said while turning off the light, perplexed, still uneasy, the only sound the one of the bed, creaking under their weight as they tried to get comfortable at each other’s side.
“You too” she whispered, but taking a breath so big that he couldn’t miss it. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that the man she loved more than her own life was so close to her, mere centimeters, lying in a bed engulfed by darkness and silence; the same bed where she was, the same bed where, she knew, sleep was going to elude her.
When she woke up, she didn’t know what time it was. She wasn’t sure, and neither she cared. What mattered, what she noticed, was that, sometimes, during their sleep, she and Jane had orbited towards each other: like she used to do at home, in her own bed, she was sleeping on her side, but right now there was few differences, because her back wasn’t against the cold air any longer, but a firm chest, she had a strong and muscular arm around her waist, and on her neck, on her long, dark hair, she could feel a quiet, regular and hot breath, the air leaving his body, Jane’s body. It was, somehow, an alien sensation, one almost forgotten, and never felt so strongly, and it was so sudden, so powerful, that it awoke in her wishes she had kept hidden for long, too long, wishes and… needs.
She didn’t thought, just acted on her impulses, when, slowly, she turned into his embrace, and felt mixed emotions filling her very being when she realized that her movements weren’t awakening him: she was happy, for Jane, because she had always knew of his issues with insomnia and his recurring nightmares, lasted almost a decade, almost driving him crazy, but she was also sad, and a tad disappointed, when she saw that he wasn’t reacting in any way to her presence, her female body pressed against his male one, definitely the opposite of the behavior she was keeping.
She hadn’t ended to think about this that he did react to her presence, only, not as she had hoped, definitely not: he turned, falling against the mattress on his back with a heavy thud, a moan escaping his beautiful and full lips like he was talking out loud in his sleep. It drove her mad, thinking that even his subconscious was trying to stay away from her, not getting closer, not allowing her that embrace, just that, an embrace, her biggest wish.
Lisbon’s eyes fell again on his lips. She couldn’t help but looking at them, staring at them, in the semidarkness of the room, her mind was set on a vision, something she knew was wrong and so many other things, but…. A kiss. She wanted to kiss him, only once, just to know how it felt, being kissed by him, the man who could read everyone and knew everything. She was sure he could be a great lover, a master, a virtuoso… she needed to know, needed to feel it, even if it was wrong, even if it was dangerous. But she still needed it, couldn’t live without it. And she knew, deep down, that it was now or never.
She cuddled against him, her hands on his warm chest, so hot she could feel his warmth through the cotton of his shirt, and moved her lips to his neck, letting them stay there, closing her eyes in bliss to better enjoy, better feel the moment, the experience of breathing him in, that unique essence that was him and him only, Patrick Jane.
Leaving a trail of small and light kisses, her lips moved on their own volition to his jaw, while her hands went under his shirt, to feel his still toned chest, his still well definite muscles in the flesh, and she knew. She knew it was wrong and she knew it was dangerous, she kept repeating it, again and again, but she still couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself, it was too late, she was playing with the fire, she was going to suffer, to get burned, but she had to go on, because he was simply too much. Jane was her favorite drug, and she was already addicted to the pleasure, the emotion that touching him gave her.
When her lips moved again, still on their own volition, to his throat, she stopped to think, stopped to calculate, stopped to pull back, and her kisses, they turned into open-mouthed, wet ones, and in bites of pure pleasure and lust; her hands started to unbutton his shirt, greedier and greedier, the breathing of the man underneath her now stifled, broken… and frozen.
She opened her eyes, wide with terror, sure that he was going to push her away, leave, to never come back to her ever again, because, under her, Jane was fully awake, blue-green orbs staring back at her with mixed emotions, and no thoughts at all, empty of reason, full of passion, lust, desire, and need.
He forced her body flush against his own so that she could feel by herself the force if his desire for her, the effects she had on him, and insinuated a traitor hand under the red shirt, that shirt that she didn’t know, but was hunting his dreams from a long time, years of hidden and secret passion kept under control only out in the open but never in his dreams and his heart. He explored the surrendering flesh of the woman, the warm and alive skin, making it even warmer with a single pass of his fingertips, palming and stroking and even just skimming her breasts and back and stomach. The other hand followed the caveman side of his brain, going directly into her hair, dark as the night, that scent of vanilla and cinnamon that drove him crazy, always had; he lifted her head, so that they were staring back at each other eyes in the eyes, but it didn’t last long. Not because the contact stopped. But because it became more personal, more physical, more lust-filled.
In a world empty of reason and thoughts, their lips found each other, skimming again and again and again in what seemed an infinite dance, but they both wanted more, needed more. His lips were hot, burning like fire on hers, persuasive; the excitation was rising, liquid heat in their veins, almost boiling; their kisses were frantic, were greedy, especially on his side, like they needed to make up for the lost time, like they were scared of losing other precious time and couldn’t afford it.
He reluctantly pulled away, released her lips when he went for the murdering hit, discharging her clothes on the pavement - she kept her breath, trying to not think about it, to wait for when it was going to be over, because she couldn’t afford it right now. Right now she wanted to think just about one matter and one matter only: Jane, the one she had wanted for so long, claiming her, taking her, marking her.
She wanted, she needed for them to be one, even just for once, so she reciprocated his actions, undressing the blonde, and when he started kissing her, touching her, becoming one with her, again and again, she lost herself in the sensation, in the unstoppable pleasure that Jane moving placid but firm in her was going to bring her, that edge she could almost feel on the tip of her tongue, from feet to hair; it had been a long time, so long, for both of them, and it was intense, so intense, that they both knew they couldn’t last. But, strange enough, both didn’t care. The duration wasn’t what was important right now, it was the act in itself, pure and simple, not because they wanted it to be over, but because they needed to share that special, precious, moment together.
It was just few minutes before he suffocated the seemingly endless primordial scream of orgasm by biting the tender skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulders, by hiding his face in the valley between Lisbon’s breasts, Lisbon, so willing to vocalize that pleasure so along desired, foretasted, dreamt of- it didn’t last long, though, because, before she could fully come down from her high, Jane, stark naked, jerked away from her with a quick feline movement, going to sit on the opposite side of the bed, far away from Lisbon.
Lisbon, who still joined him, going at his side, staying in the nude at his back.
“Jane…” she whispered, barely touching his shoulder, her fingers lingering on the hot and sweating skin full of pheromones, fear for the disgust, sufferance for the rejection but happiness covered by a tiny veil of shame present inside the tiny woman mixed together. “Jane, I’m sorry...I…I got carried away.”
“It’s the same for me” he answered her with a quiet whisper, trying to scroll his shoulders in a fake attempt at nonchalance, but failing miserably. “I’m sorry Lisbon, I didn’t want for that to happen. I’m really sorry, I should have never done it.”
“Do you… do you really? Regret it…” she was disappointed and extremely sad, and he didn’t need to be a mentalist to know it, he didn’t even need to look at her. It was all in her voice, in the voice of that woman who couldn’t bring herself to stop staring at his sweating back.
He slightly turned so that she could see him. “No” he answered with honesty, his lips graced by a true smile, a malicious and mischievous light. “But we can’t deny we’ve been both been a bit irresponsible. We rushed so quickly into this, that we didn’t even think about…” he cursed, fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp. “I could have gotten you pregnant with my stupidity!”
“I’m on the pill, you silly idiot, I’m not such an irresponsible like someone here, you know?” there was a smile on her lips, a smile in her voice as she answered him, the sexually satisfied woman somehow reassured he didn’t regret it- it didn’t matter the reason, what mattered was that he didn’t labeled it as a mere mistake, something to forget, to pretend it never existed, never happened. It had to be enough, even if….
She didn’t regret it, Lisbon was sure of it, and knowing that he didn’t as well was a balsam for her soul, but, still, she was fighting a battle inside her very soul, a battle she couldn’t foresee the outcome of, because there was one question, and one question only, running wild inside her head: how was she supposed to survive without that, without him? It was simple: she wasn’t ready yet, so, she had to take charge of the situation, before he could come back to his senses, before he’d ask her to never allow it to repeat, ever again. “Jane, we didn’t harm anyone. And… we are both adults, and there’s nothing wrong with what we did, and I think that, considering that we do have to share a bed for few days anyway…” her hands explored yet again his body, this time naked skin, this time with a purely lust-induced aim, her lips nipped the skin of his neck, his shoulders, his earlobe, Jane’s eyes closed to fully master the sensation, “I think we should take advantage of the situation, until Stella is here…”
“Yes, and there’s no reason to… it’s not necessary for us…. We are adults and we can… deal with this…situation….in an adult way like the responsible adults we both are…” words merely escaped his mouth. Words that didn’t represent him, his dreams, his hopes. He hoped she knew. He feared she didn’t.
“I’m just sorry I woke you up…” she barely said the words, barely any sound left her mouth as she straddled his hips between moans of sheer ecstasy.
“Is that so?” with a quick move, eyes as huge as saucer, he exchanged position, sending her on her back, his body flat against her own, covering her with his weight, so, so welcome, so nice and utterly beautiful inside out, ready to carry on as long as she needed it, ready to wait until she wasn’t ready to have him yet again.
“Nope” she smiled with malice at the words, her lips once again on his own, and she attacked him, marking him as hers like he had done with her.
***
She woke up many hours later, as soon as she heard the sound of the alarm - one of those old traps, so fifties, so Jane-ish - feeling satisfied and sated but disappointed, the side of the bed opposite to hers cold and empty, void of the man who had filled her with his warm for the whole night.
Her hand reached that empty spot, trying to find it, the remaining warmth left by him when he had left, but it wasn’t a sensation, a feeling she found on the pillow, his pillow. It was a note, elegantly written with a fountain pen, black ink, on a plain white sheet.
I’m gone to the airport - I let you sleep in for once, you need it. Hope you’ll not mind, but I really didn’t feel like disturb you. See you later-soon.
Just few words, and not one about the hot night shared, something that, though, Teresa didn’t see, couldn’t bother to consider, too busy panicking noticing how late it actually was. Sleep in, he had said in the note. And that was the result.
She opened her eyes, widely, dilated pupils because of the panic, out of fear, and not of desire like the previous evening, and she run, run into the bathroom without even bothering to get dressed, stark naked, concentrated on the quick shower she needed to take to clean herself from his scent, on the makeup she knew she was going to need afterwards to hide his marks, the visible ones, the hickeys on her neck, on her shoulders, the bruises on her skin, where he had gripped her the night before while he possessed her with wild abandon….
Don’t think about that. Think about all the things you still need to do. She reprimanded herself while washing away the cinnamon soap from her skin, from her hair, just allowing herself for a brief second to wonder how he could know the exact brand she used, just to getting angry at herself once again because she wasn’t supposed to think about him. Lisbon knew she needed to think about the place, about all the small details she had to improve to make it look like her own, hoping that Stella could actually believe that it was their love nest.
Still, it was pointless. It wasn’t just the fact that everything around her screamed, somehow, “Jane” at her, it was that even what she did was screaming the name at her. Like the green shirt she was putting on- it was one he had complimented her about time before. She couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t stop thinking about him. And thinking about him, made her think about her own feelings.
She wasn’t going to lie- she had always liked Jane, but it had been a while since “liking” had turned into “loving”, not just like that, but, slowly. It had been a long process, she reckoned, a feeling blossomed in almost a decade’s time, deepening a bit more every time Jane allowed her to see Patrick behind his mask, just to appear one day as a whole being, pros and cons.
She smiled, last button buttoned. Because the fact that he had allowed her to see not through him but him, directly, that he had been open and honest with her and her only had given her hope; she had hoped that things were different, that his feelings for her went beyond friendship. But love? He had never given her sign of being in love with her, and even with the night before, she didn’t know what to say, what to think. She wasn’t a child any longer, she knew that sex didn’t equal love.
She knew that she had made love to him, but what about him? She wasn’t sure, and, frankly, as right as it had felt, as much as she still thought it was right, she couldn’t help but fear the repercussions of her actions. Here they were, but what was going to happen to them after Stella’s departure? The woman was supposed to stay only one week, and now Lisbon couldn’t stop thinking that she could have lost him, her best friend, for few hours of pleasure and bliss….