Work Text:
One Way To Help
Teresa Lisbon can’t think straight.
Which is a problem, because normally her brain runs like a tight machine where she manages to sort through the facts, the fiction, the theories, and the conclusion. But right now, it’s like something is jamming the cogs that should be going round. She really thought they were getting somewhere in the Volker case, but now Charles Milk is dead – made to look like an accident obviously – and she feels like they’re back to square one.
She stares out the passenger window, watching Sacramento slide by in streaks of sodium-orange and black. Shops are closed, there’s barely anyone roaming the streets, and traffic lights seem to change for nobody like the entire city is paused. Somehow, that makes things seem even more stifling. Her skin itches she’s so pent up and angry, but she’s partly angry at herself for getting so worked up about this.
The clock on the dashboard glows in green letters: 23:18.
Lisbon really should be tired, no, exhausted. The case has been gruelling on top of the usual workload and having to keep one eye on Jane at all times, but she’s not… she’s hyper-aware. She’s hyper-aware of the sound the car engine makes, the cool air brushing her cheeks from the A/C, and of the man driving her CBI-issued vehicle tonight, after leaving his own car at the offices.
“Jane… I need your help.” He didn’t say anything in reply, he didn’t even hum.
Jane has one hand on the wheel, the other loose on the gearshift, fingers relaxed like he’s not bothered about this at all. She supposes to him it’s not a big deal when he’s hunting down a bigger demon, and for some reason that hurts a little. Lisbon looks to him, watching how the streetlights sweep across his face in intervals from gold to shadow and then back to gold again and so on. He looks… calm. Unusually so.
“You’re thinking out loud.” He mutters, his eyes still fixed on the road.
She looks away. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is. One of the signs is the little line you get.” He gestures vaguely at his own forehead. “Right here. Like your brain is trying to punch its way out.”
Lisbon presses her lips together, hating that he’s right once again. Damn him. “I’m just thinking about next steps with Volker.”
“Hm.” It’s obvious that he doesn’t quite believe her, yet he doesn’t question it further.
When he pulls up to the curb in front of her place, the energy in the car has shifted to something different. There was a plan when they decided to drive here at this late hour together, to review the case files, but that’s becoming less and less likely the longer they sit in the quiet, with only their breaths being heard.
They don’t look at each other when the doors open. They are hit by the night air, a natural chill that trickles down her spine almost immediately. Each movement they share as if they’re in perfect sync from the gentle slamming of their car doors to their footsteps on the pavement. There’s no rushing… but it’s not slow either. It’s a normal pace really so Lisbon isn’t sure why she’s overthinking it so much.
He’s just coming in to work on the case, that’s all, she has to push the memories of their trysts in his thinking room that time and in the motel in Santa Barbara down until they become insignificant. Because it is insignificant.
Her keys shake when she slides the right one into the lock. She’s quick to mentally blame the cold and the hellishly long day, attempting to ignore his warm presence behind her that’s make her swelter a little beneath her turtleneck. The door does then open and Lisbon thinks she’s regained composure when she effortlessly reaches for the light switch and drops her bag to the side table in the hallway.
But as soon as her door clicks shut, there’s a firm hand at her waist and she barely has time to turn before her back meets the wall with a muted thud, breath leaving her in a startled rush. His other hand braces beside her shoulder, not trapping her but making any concept of space completely vanish.
Shock flares across her face, but there’s no fear nor protest, just pure disbelief.
His mouth is on hers before her brain catches up. It’s not tentative or is it questioning, it comes from a place of urgency. One that tells her that she’s not the only one struggling right now. His hand tightens at her waist like he’s afraid she might disappear, and for a second she freezes.
This would be a mistake, a big mistake, it’s completely insane even for him. When she woke up in her motel room in Santa Barbara to find her bed empty, she told herself that nothing would ever happen again. It’s too complicated. He’s a selfish bastard who as of late has been even more fuelled by his self-destructive cause than before. She’s a pawn in his twisted desire for justice, and despite having known each other for over a decade, he most likely wouldn’t hesitate to obliterate their relationship to get the closure he desperately needs.
Yet still her fingers curl into the front of his shirt as she kisses him back. Hard.
The world narrows to heat and breath and the solid press of him against her. For a moment, she can forget about Volker and about what brought them to her home tonight as her heart races so fast it almost hurts.
But then it’s like a klaxon is sounded in her head, shaking her out of it so violently that it could cause whiplash. No. Lisbon shoves against his chest without an ounce of care, making Jane stumble backwards a step, more from surprise than force. His hands lift automatically, not out of defence but to show that he has happily complied. Air rushes into her lungs like she’s just surfaced from deep water. “W-What are you doing?”
Her voice is unsteady in a way that sounds alien to her own ears. She takes a deep breath, pressing her palm to the wall behind her as if needing the support, lips still tingling from the stimulation. Jane gives her space, his stare studying her expression while his is practically blank. “Helping you.”
“How… how is that?”
He doesn’t answer straightaway, all he does is blink as he mulls her question over. Then, he sighs before his explanation finally comes. “Lisbon… you’re barely thinking straight. This man has got under your skin.”
Lisbon’s brain short-circuits fleetingly, pushing past the hypocrisy of his statement so that she can focus on what she considers to be a safe topic. Work. “It’s my job.”
“It’s more than that and you know it.” Jane then takes a step forward, still not crowding her but his body heat is noticeable now. “We could spend the night trawling through the case files again or come up with a plan but… I think you need to let off some steam first.” His gaze doesn’t drop. It remains on her face, studying every twitch and movement, ensuring that she’s not becoming overwhelmed by his proposition. “Let me help you do that.”
There’s no pressure behind his words… it’s an offer more than anything – so why does that completely rattle her?
Maybe because he’s right in that her thoughts are a mess. Volker is one of the most dangerous yet intelligent sociopaths she has ever been nose-to-nose with. Whenever she’s in his presence, she may come across as tough, put her armour on the way she knows how, but inside she feels small. He makes her skin crawl so much that she wants to scrub herself roughly in the shower under a scorching stream of water to try and clean any trace of him off her.
This though, what Jane is suggesting, is a different kind of chaos.
Lisbon’s heart continues to hammer so hard that it almost bursts through her ribcage, her pulse thready as her mouth vividly remembers the mapping of his. She gulps, forcing her composure to return like nothing ever happened. “It’s not a good idea.” It’s not exactly an iron-clad rejection, but it is a boundary that she does attempt to lay between them.
She doesn’t expect the worry to creep into his eyes, unguarded, and it knocks the breath out of her more than the kiss did. What she isn’t sure on is if he’s worried that he went too far or if he’s worried for her in general and the effect Tommy Volker is having on her. Lisbon doesn’t feel brave enough to ask.
The intensity of it drains gradually and is replaced with a gentleness that is so uncharacteristic as of late. “Okay.” He murmurs with an almost indiscernible nod. “Tea? You look like someone who needs tea.”
Jane doesn’t wait for her to agree, and he stops trying to read her. Instead, he swivels on his heels and heads towards the kitchen like nothing happened, giving her the distance he believes she requires… But for some reason, that’s what does it.
Her hand shoots out before she fully knows she’s moving, and her fingers close around his arm, stopping him mid-step. He doesn’t mask his surprise when he turns back, but that’s when she pulls him, and this time the kiss isn’t a fumbling collision, it’s a choice she’s made.
The urgency quietens the negative voices in her head, the ones yelling at her that this is a bad idea, especially when he involuntarily releases a quiet moan as she tugs at the little hairs on the back of his neck. His hands come up slowly, like he’s handling something fragile, settling at her waist, giving her every chance to pull away, but she doesn’t.
What happens next is fast and messy, and they move without discussing it, instinct taking over all rational thinking. She pulls him down the hallway, barely breaking contact, and he happily follows her lead. Their mouths part only long enough to breathe before they crash together again. A picture frame rattles as one of them bumps the wall. She knocks her elbow against a doorframe hard enough that she’ll surely bruise. It’s all very chaotic and feverish but completely unplanned.
They reach the stairs still tangled together. Lisbon nearly misses a step, so Jane’s grip tightens on her automatically maybe even protectively. By the time they reach the top landing, her composure is a distant memory. His careful distance is gone too, replaced with something hungry but still attentive, his hands never grasping harder than she invites.
They lose their jackets, their shoes, his vest, as they appear to make a trail towards their intended destination.
When her bedroom door swings open, it hits the wall with a thud, most likely leaving a chip in the plasterboard. She doesn’t care; it’s nothing a little filler won’t be able to fix. They stagger inside and somehow, he has enough awareness to flick on the lamp on her bedside table, so the room isn’t in complete darkness. She kisses him again – evidently impressed by his coordination in a room that’s unfamiliar to him – and he smiles into it, feeling his shoulders relax properly for the first time today.
Jane is a little surprised about how she’s taken over. She seemed to enjoy being dominated during their previous encounters but now it is her popping open the button on his trousers and pulling the zipper down without a hint of hesitation. He’s about to help her undress when she drops to her knees tugging the fabric of his pants down with her.
He may chuckle at this, but she doesn’t hear it, not when her own breathing is loud in her ears.
His hands are in her hair just long enough for him to position the dark locks over one of her shoulders while she frees him from his underwear. He’s only half hard but that doesn’t last, not when she wraps her small hand around him and starts to languidly stroke his velvet skin.
He’s already leaking at the tip, her tongue darts out to taste his salty-sweet release. It’s not the first time she’s taken him in her mouth, but the last time she punished him by not allowing him to finish. Tonight, she plans to gulp him down if he lets her.
Lisbon’s lips spread around the head of his cock as he breaches the threshold, groaning under his breath because of how hot and wet it is. Her actions are slow at first, sluggish almost, but then her eyes flutter shut as she concentrates on breathing through her nose and before Jane comprehends what is happening, she is taking as much of him as she can, bruising her throat. “Fuck, Teresa.” He dazedly murmurs. “Where did that come from?”
When he looks down at her choking herself on his cock, it manages to click in his head despite how foggy his mind seems. She’s trying to feel something… anything, to pull herself away from the dissociative state that she’s been teetering towards. Maybe she isn’t taking control like he assumed, she’s subconsciously trying to get him to.
Jane wraps her hair around his hand and tugs her off him earning a gasp. He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, instead he studies how much of a mess she already is with her green eyes watering, lips swollen, and his arousal making her chin gleam. She’s practically vibrating as she waits for him to break the quiet, silently praying that he doesn’t plan to go back on his proposition.
Because he was right – of course he was right – she needs this.
“Do you want me to be rough with you?” He asks her almost casually, loosening his grip on her hair so he can cup her cheek instead. It’s a little jarring, him being so soft with her when she has the aftertaste of him in her mouth and he’s offering something so filthy. But it is what she wants and although she doesn’t trust her own voice right now, she manages a shy nod as her cheeks become hot under his gaze. “Okay.”
With his hands flat against the sides of her face now, he feeds his cock back into her mouth, slowly but firmly, feeling how she swallows him down, her chest rising and falling heavily as she does. He holds his position then for a few seconds until she starts to splutter before withdrawing fully once more. “You’re good at that.” He compliments and she averts her gaze in shame. “It’s okay to be good at that.”
But she doesn’t want to hear his reassurances.
Lisbon raises her hand to take hold of the base of his cock, regaining some element of composure before sinking back down on his length. Her other hand is clawing at his thigh through his rumpled pants, searching for a little stability as she works at the throbbing hardness inside her mouth.
Never again. She convinced herself that nothing would happen again between them. Lisbon may have not said this verbally, but she gave him a look over breakfast with the team the following day which said it all. Jane believed her, he really did, and he agreed. Their relationship is complicated enough as it is without adding sexual shenanigans to the mix. Tonight though, seeing her completely dejected at the crime scene, her mind working at hundred miles per hour, it was the best thing he could think of that would help.
And he can’t deny he’s enjoying being this close to her again. “L-Lisbon.” He stutters as she starts to feel his muscles tense. “Close.” It’s a warning, giving her chance to pull away, but if anything, she works harder, her head bobbing in rhythm like a woman on a mission.
She chokes around him, a combination of her saliva and his pre-cum leaking from the corners of her mouth. Jane follows the trail with his thumb, rocking his hips forwards as he chases his high, moans becoming louder and louder. “S-Shit.” Is all he can utter before he spills down her throat, ropes and ropes of his seed being swallowed down, her movements now gentler.
It’s him who pushes her off him, starting to sense the tingling of overstimulation and she gasps for breath. Jane has seen Lisbon chase suspects down until she can’t run anymore, but he’s never seen her this out of breath. What he can see of her skin – which isn’t very much because of her long black turtleneck top – is flushed and sweaty. He reaches down to wipe her cheeks, chin, and mouth with the palm of his hand. She may have wanted this, but the last thing he wants to do is leave her in a state. “Are you okay?” He checks.
“Yeah.” Her response may be only one syllable, but he can hear how hoarse she sounds.
“Good.”
Jane is cautious as he helps her to her feet, noting how unsteady she seems for a second, so he doesn’t rush. She smiles coyly, slightly embarrassed to be this wrecked already when all she’s done is perform oral sex, but when he returns her smile with a calm one of his own, she feels herself relax again.
He undresses her carefully but without ceremony. As soon as he removes her top, he smirks at the sight of the blush that has spread right down her chest. When his flicks open the clasp on her bra, he sees that her areolas are deep pink too. It’s beautiful, she’s beautiful, and this thought is very sobering.
It’s meant to just be sex, stress release, he isn’t supposed to see her in this light. It’s not that he didn’t know that she’s beautiful, he’s not blind, but it hits him differently now. It feels more… tangible. “Jane?” Lisbon questions, her brow dipped as she appears to have regained some cognitive coherence.
He’s too scared to answer her. So instead, he picks her up like she weighs nothing wearing only her panties and tosses her onto the bed.
She didn’t make it this morning before heading off to work, which was about seventeen hours ago. He likes that she’s a little bit messy behind closed doors because as he’s told her before – messy women make good lovers.
Lisbon yelps in surprises when she hits the mattress, watching how he then quickly works at shedding his own clothes. His shirt is dropped to her floor first followed by his trousers and then his underwear and then his socks. He doesn’t waste any time, happy to be completely bare for her, his cock now half-soft hanging between his legs. It’s not meant to be a show, but how she stares back at him make it seem like it is.
Jane drags her to the edge of the bed, spreading her so he can mouth at the inside of her pale thighs. He pulls back and hooks his fingers in the waistband of her plain panties, but that just makes her bring her legs back together. “Now you’re shy?” He teases and if she was surer of herself in this moment, she would slap him.
But what Lisbon actually does is part her legs again, any lingering blushing dissipating as soon as he kisses at the crotch of her underwear. “You’re dripping.” It’s a compliment and they both know it. “Did sucking me off do that to you?”
“Jane.” She scolds him for being so brass.
“What?” He feigns innocence before pulling her panties down her smooth legs.
Lisbon stares up at the ceiling while chewing at her bottom lip. There’s a crack in the plaster that she looks up at most nights, forever ruminating that when she has a weekend off she will repair it. It doesn’t need to be repaired per se, it’s more of aesthetic issue than a structural one, but it has bothered her for a long time. Scrutinising it now makes something hit her.
They’re in her home. That’s a very different line to have crossed compared to their previous meetings. She will have to change the sheets, there will be an awkwardness when he leaves either after or in the morning, and tomorrow night she will try to sleep while being flooded with the memories of their pleasure.
None of these anxieties remain when Jane glides his tongue along her slit. “Mmm…” Lisbon moans, toes curling as soon as he makes contact with her clit. It pulsates in his mouth, as if he can actually taste her heartbeat – he can’t though of course.
It takes Jane a few lazy licks of her entrance for his brain to remind him that he’s not here to worship her even if he wants to. She needs to be distracted from the constant overthinking, and she’s trusted him enough to help her. So his lazy licks turn into greedy laps, and she can’t refrain from the relentless moans tumbling from her lips.
It shouldn’t feel this good, being penetrated by just his middle finger, but Lisbon is so worked up that it makes her back curve off the bed. “So responsive.” He chuckles against her, the vibrations making her dizzy. On the next stroke, he adds a second, the two thick digits filling her to perfection.
Lisbon moans twice as loud when his tongue joins his fingers. It makes her thankful that one of her neighbours is on holiday and the other is a practically deaf old man, because she’s sure she would be heard otherwise. Jane doesn’t just lick her clit with quick, short strokes, no, he also alters the pressure of his tongue.
And then he curves his fingers.
His name is yelled out as she shakes and quivers on the sheets, her juices dripping down his hand as he doesn’t hold back the rocking of the appendage. Jane removes his other hand from her knee so he can drape an arm across her torso, keeping her pinned in place.
He doesn’t relinquish his movements, in fact he fucks her with his fingers harder, forcefully sucking on her clit to keep her at her high for as long as possible. The muscles in Lisbon’s body may be contracting violently, but she feels a weightlessness as goosebumps litter her skin and tears from overstimulation prickle at her eyes. “J-Jane.” She stammers and he peers up from between her legs, making sure that this isn’t too much.
Her first orgasm stumbles into a second and he continues to hold her down despite her body’s desire to thrash on the bed. He doesn’t pause and he licks anything she gives him up, his tongue quickly becoming her biggest aphrodisiac.
It’s her blindly batting a hand near his head that makes him stop. His fingers are removed from her body with a squelch and he backs off, face shimmering as he glides his tongue across his lips to mop up any remaining signs of her, wanting to taste her for a little longer.
When he gets up off the floor, leaving her panting and trembling on the bed, it’s then that he spots a certain furnishing in her room. How did he not see it before? Was he really that entranced with the desire to bring her pleasure that he missed the tall mirror against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.
Even in her hazy state, Lisbon spies how he eyes it up, a flicker of mischief crossing his expression as he does. Her gaze follows his curiously to the mirror that’s on the right of her.
When they returned from their case in Santa Barbara, she stood in front of it and inspected the bruises he left on her. They were at her hips from him gripping her tight and smattered across her breasts from his mouth and teeth. Seeing them on her body, set her alight, and she ended up using the toys that are hidden in her bedside drawer to make herself cum, imagining him using them on her.
Now, as she stares at her expression, all she sees is a woman who’s so boneless that she doesn’t recognise the woman as being herself. “Do you trust me?” Jane’s question has her attention snapping back to him.
It’s not a simple one to answer because does she? Sometimes, she’d say yes, and other times, no. Their relationship is so convoluted that it doesn’t always make sense to her. “Yes.” But in this scenario, as they push boundaries together, she does trust him.
His hands are somehow rough and soft at the same time as he works at manoeuvring Lisbon on the bed, so she’s face-down but pointed in the direction of the mirror. She can’t see him, but she hears him grab at their clothes on the floor until there’s the familiar clicking sound of her handcuffs moving. They were attached to her belt along with her badge and weapon, but now she can feel them encase her wrists after he holds both of her arms behind her back.
It isn’t the first time she’s been restrained during sex, and it isn’t the first time that cuffs have been involved, but to use her duty ones adds a new level of wickedness. He tightens them so the cool metal rubs against her wrists in a way that’s noticeable but not painful. However, she does expect there to be marks tomorrow. “Okay?” Jane checks.
“Hm.” Lisbon makes a noise against her sheets.
“Words, Teresa.” He pushes, needing more of a verbal confirmation considering how daring this is.
“Yes… okay.” She’s still slightly breathless, something he vows to keep any eye on, but for now his fist rolls over his hardening cock, bringing it back to life at a rate that he can be smug about considering his age. His other hand strokes down her spine after climbing onto the mattress behind her. She is a piece of art, a nude painted from behind, like a Renoir or a Courbet or a Picasso – when he focussed on realism of course.
Thanks to Jane’s impressive memory, he can store the image away, something he will not take for granted. “I know you’re tired but…” He starts to say as he sneaks a hand beneath her torso to pull her up a little, so her ass is pushed up into the air. “This will make it easier. Okay?”
“Okay.” Lisbon’s breath hitches in preparation when she feels his tip prod against her slick entrance. He has one leg propped up to give him some leverage as he slides inside with a hand on her hip. It’s one smooth thrust that has her crying out with a, “Yes!”
Jane keeps one hand on her lower back, his foot on the bed, and pushes into her again once, twice, and then again and again, slowly, but hard and deep and rough, making sure he’s hitting the right spots on every rock of his hips. She lets out a broken moan each time, begs him for more with all but her words, and he gives it to her. Pounding her into the mattress.
He leans forward then to wrap a hand around her throat. It doesn’t hurt, how he pulls at her there to force her head up to look at them fucking in the reflection of her mirror, but it is a little uncomfortable. She doesn’t mind a small bit of discomfort though because of how turned on she is.
“You’re incredible, I hope you realise that.” Jane manages to say between heavy breaths, keeping his gaze fixed on hers in the reflection. “You’ve gone through so much yet you’re still the strongest person I know.” He doesn’t mean to be so emotive, the truth just comes out as if his walls have crumbled by the vulnerability of their shared passion. “We are all very lucky to… to not only have you as the leader of our team but as a friend. I’m very lucky.”
This triggers Lisbon’s resolve to dissolve before his very eyes. Her spaced expression of pleasure switches into something more sincere, even as he screws her like a man with nothing to lose. Her lips twitch downwards and her eyes become glassy. “Are you alright?” Jane sounds alarmed on noticing her tears. “I-I haven’t hurt you, right?” He pauses his strokes, pulling back slightly ready to reach for the keys to the cuffs that he placed on her bedside table prior to restraining her.
“No you haven’t.” She’s quick to see, pushing against him so he fills her to her hilt once more. “Please… Please Jane.”
“Keep going?”
“Keep going.”
He sets a brutal pace, chasing his own release as much as he’s searching for hers. He knows she’s close by how she flutters around him while a familiar tightness begins to form in his abdomen. His thrusts turn desperate, determined to get her over the line before the feeling takes him over entirely.
Letting go of her neck isn’t an easy decision, but as his movements begin to stutter it becomes too much of a reach, so he holds the cuffs around her wrists instead. It seems to connect them more. But that connection… it’s important. It’s probably a huge factor into why sex with Patrick Jane is the best she’s ever had. She won’t allow herself to dwell too much on that though.
When she lets go, it’s beautiful with her face pressed downwards into the bed, mouth open and eyes fluttering closed, as her whole body quakes. Her cunt clenches around him, squeezing his cock, and he cums loudly with a grunt, his thrusts uneven as he empties deep inside of her.
It takes all his awareness to not collapse on top of her. It would be sore at the best of times but with her arms bound with the cuffs it would probably hurt. So he rolls off to the side, pulling out of her at the same time leaving a trail of their encounter across her and the sheets. He makes a mental note to find clean ones before he leaves.
Even though Jane could lie dormant to get his breath back for a while, he pushes himself up and off the bed to pick up the key from her bedside before releasing the cuffs from her wrists with a loud click. As if elasticated, Lisbon’s arms spring free until they are flat by her sides. He then carefully repositions her so she’s laying in the correct position, head against the pillows, a blanket now draped over her bare form.
The room is quiet for the first time since they entered it, as a warm, relaxed energy has taken them over.
Lisbon’s hair is fanned out across her cotton pillowcase, chest rising and falling as she fights to get her breathing back under control. The streetlight outside spills through the parted curtains, illuminating the drops of sweat on her skin. Jane is propped on one elbow beside her, watching, with wonder.
He reaches out carefully, like she might still startle, and brushes a loose lock of hair away from her face. His fingers trail respectfully as he tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is gentle – shy almost – a sharp contrast to the chaos that not only brought them here, but they unleashed in this very room.
Her eyes open fully and she looks dazed but very satisfied albeit a little stunned at herself. Jane’s mouth curves into a smile, feeling blessed that he’s able to be a part of it. He studies the way her pulse still beats fast at her throat and the way she’s trying to look composed. Her attempt isn’t very successful.
He feels it too, the pleasant ache in his muscles, the burn in his lungs that reminds him he is not, in fact, in his twenties anymore. A private thought flitters through his mind, one that tells him that he’s going to need to get fitter if this is going to happen more and more.
It’s not that Jane is being presumptuous. He would never assume that she’d want to continue to have this kind of relationship with him, but this is their third time together and each of the previous two he was convinced it would never happen again, yet it has. His thumb brushes lightly along her jaw with an affection that has her lips parting. Jane reminds himself why he was convinced the previous times that it would never happen again, and he pulls back.
They’re not a couple. They’re partners… professionally, and good friends but not a couple. They couldn’t be a couple. Not with the job and Red John and…
Jane sucks in breath causing a flash of worry cross Lisbon’s expression. He’s swift to put his mask firmly back in place. “How are you feeling?” He asks with a small smile, the sweetness of it making her forget the alarm almost as quickly as it appears.
“Good.”
“Good.” His smile gets wider. “Do you want that tea now?”
“Yes.” She blissfully beams, glad that neither she nor he are just going to walk out like the other times they’ve crossed this line, but she supposes they do actually have a case to discuss.
“Hm.” He hums and slides off the bed, leaning down to pick up his shirt and underwear so he doesn’t walk through her home completely naked.
Jane is already heading to the bedroom door when her quiet murmurings make him pause. “Jane.” He turns back to face her, curls wild and shirt creases being illuminated by the light on the landing. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” It just slips out.
But before Lisbon has the opportunity to question it, he’s walking away.