Exception

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or their characters. Just borrowing them for a while ;)

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Jane/Lisbon

Words: 558

Summary:They've been playing this game for about two months now; he's already lost all his credibility. (Jane/Lisbon. Somewhere in season 2, no spoilers.)

A/N:I don't really know what to say about this one. I was trying to write a Holiday fic, but this turned out instead. I guess angst always gets the best of me ^-^

I'll try to write a fluffy fic next time, I promise! Hope you'll like this one.

She was always admired for her strength.

(He shows up at her door.)

And her self control.

(He's got that look in his eyes. They're bluer, somehow. Like he's about to break.)

"Jane, what are you doing here?" she asks, tentatively.

"I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop by…" he lies, knowing she doesn't believe him.

They've been playing this game for about two months now; he's already lost all his credibility.

He continues to pretend, she doesn't know why. She doesn't care either.

(But if she was stronger, she'd have told him to stop this a long time ago.)

"Okay." she doesn't look him in the eyes. "Do you want anything to drink?"

She's almost surprised when, instead of responding, he just grabs her by the wrist and turns her towards him. Almost.

"Not really, you know." his eyes look right through her, and she can't look away now.

(If she was stronger, she wouldn't have fallen in the first place.)

When his lips touch hers, she thinks she should be used by now to the feeling; but it seemed like kissing him never got old, the electricity never fade away.

Kissing Patrick Jane was always a novelty to her.

He traveled her jaw with his lips, then her neck, biting her skin.

"Jane, don't do that…" she said softly. "It'll leave a mark."

"So?" he smiles against her, as he bites again.

"So I don't want to wear a scarf to work in the middle of August."

"Then don't." he's enjoying this.

"And let everyone see it. Fine, what do you suggest I say to Minelli? 'Sir, it's nothing to worry about. It was Jane, when we were in my apartment, making out, he just- hey, that actually hurt!" she interrupted herself, when he bit harder.

"You could just say that a vampire went to your house." he was grinning, and she wanted to punch him for being so calm about the whole thing.

"This is not funny, Jane. You can't just do whatever you want and expect no consequences." she pushed him away, crossing her arms.

"Oh, come on! It's just a little hickey. It's not like everyone will notice. I bet Rigsby won't." he stepped closer to her, his hands on her shoulders.

"Rigsby never notices anything. And that's not what I'm talking about here, don't deflect, you always deflect…" she tries to look away, but he's cupping her face, softly tracing a finger against her cheek. "Why do you keep doing this?"

She's serious now; she's tired of not knowing, not asking. Just giving herself away.

"Doing what? This?" he kisses her again, with more force.

(She can't resist him, can't control herself when she's with him. She's completely addicted to him.)

She should insist more, she knows. She should stop him before it's too late (again).

But she can't bring herself to do it, because she knows that if she does, he may never come to her again. And she's not prepared for that. Not yet.

(Not ever.)

And as she feels his whole body pressing her against the door, his hands touching her (everywhere), she doesn't think anymore.

Maybe next time she'll be stronger. Or she'll have more self control.

But right now, she just loses herself in his touch, and hopes he'll be there in the morning.

by blondieland.