Red Velvet: Teresa Lisbon is in love with Patrick Jane and it's eating her up inside. Will she tell him? Or will she continue to suffer in silence? Written as a sequel to "Red Guy At Night" but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Jisbon.

Note: Well, I wasn't planning to continue "Red Guy At Night", but because so many of you lovely reviewers requested it, here ya go! Hope you enjoy it. Please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Mentalist".

Teresa Lisbon had long since come to terms with the fact that she was in love with her consultant. After working together for years, the realisation had suddenly hit her, and she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. And now that she knew it, every little thing Patrick Jane did drove her crazy.

She read into every action, every turn of phrase that left his lips. Every cheeky touch or flirty tease sent her spiralling into a vicious circle of hope, followed by doubt, and finally dismissal. Until the next electrifying moment that he fixed all of his attention on her.

But as well as accepting she was in love with him, Lisbon had also accepted that she couldn't have him. Almost. The sensible, policewoman part of her told her that it was against the rules and he was emotionally unavailable, so it could never happen. But no matter how hard she tried to forget him, to push the thought to the back of her head, on slow work days or sleepless nights her mind wandered, and always ended up back at him. Being with him, talking with him; what it would be like if once, just once, she could kiss him without repercussions...

Of course, she never let him see it. The thought of him finding out sent her breakfast jolting around inside of her. But still...she couldn't help wondering...

Nonsense Teresa, she berated herself as she strolled into the CBI Headquarters, arranging her features into her usual look of seriousness with a hint of don't-irritate-me thrown in for good measure. No-one would have guessed that a dreamy, romantic smile lurked at the edge of her facade. No-one, that is, except Patrick Jane. Who just happened to be walking up to her at this very moment. As had become her custom when he approached, Lisbon suppressed a blush, gulped and set her emerald eyes into a steely mask of enigmatic nature.

"Hello Lisbon, you're looking particularly lovely today!" he beamed, and she tried not to take him seriously. "What do you want, Jane?" she asked in her usual cutting manner, fighting back the smile he was daring her to set free. "Can't a consultant just compliment his boss without looking for anything in return?" he asked innocently, and she chuckled, her laugh dripping with cynicism.

"Consultants can, but you can't." She replied shaking her head. "Come on now, don't keep me in suspense, what is it?" He nodded approvingly at her, patronizing her for deducing his ulterior motives. Arrogant son of a bitch, she thought, but couldn't help smiling fondly as he said, "Very astute Lisbon. I've taught you well." She rolled her eyes, looking at him expectantly. "Well?" she pressed.
He faltered, and sighed. "I need to borrow your car."

"Forget it." She dismissed him without hesitation, and began to walk away. He ran after her, grabbing her shoulder and sending jolts of electricity up and down her arm. "Please? Mine's in the shop and we're out of teabags!" he begged. She looked incredulously at him.
"Teabags? Seriously?" she yelled, flailing her arms out at her sides aggressively. "We have police work to do here Jane!"

He looked at her pleadingly, a childish look of desperation on his tanned face. "Please?" he whispered, and sighing, she gave in. He was really annoyingly charming sometimes. "Will it shut you up?" she asked wearily, a smile tickling the corners of her lips. His blue eyes glinted triumphantly. "Won't utter a word for the rest of the day!" he exclaimed. For the second time in five minutes, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right," she said sarcastically. "Come on then," She walked off in the direction of the parking lot. He wrinkled his brow at her in confusion.

"Where are you going?" he called at her retreating figure. She stopped and whipped around, her long raven hair swishing wildly as her eyes glinted dangerously. "You really think I'd let you drive my car? Not a chance. Now get a move on!" she called, and he obliged, jogging to catch up with the fiery woman who was so helplessly, irrevocably in love with him.

A car ride, a box of teabags, and several bursts of laughter later, Lisbon and Jane returned to the CBI, her shiny black SUV still very much intact. She strode languidly into her office; the door swishing closed behind her and flopped down onto her chair, ready to start some paperwork. It was a slow day for murders in California apparently, which she supposed was a good thing...but it made her day very boring. No sooner had she taken the lid off her pen that a certain golden-haired consultant bounced into her office and propelled himself at her white squashy couch. "Knocking really isn't your style, huh?" she asked irritably, and launched the pen at his head. It ricocheted off one of his cherubic curls, and he resurfaced from the depths of her couch, grinning cheekily at her. "It just seems like such a waste of time and energy, don't you think?" he asked, inspecting her cushions with interest. He held one up. "Very nice. Very...plush." he observed. She sighed wearily. "Do you need anything in particular Jane? 'Cause I've got a lot of work to do?" she asked pointedly, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.

"Nope." He replied simply, before stretching out on her couch.
She nodded at the white fabric. "What's wrong with yours?" she enquired, willing him to move and give her peace to work. He opened his sapphire eyes and fixed his gaze so intensely on her that she suddenly felt quite uncomfortable. "Yours has a nicer view." He said quietly, and she felt like the oxygen content in the air had just changed. He scrutinised her porcelain skin and dark, flowing tresses meticulously, and she eyed him suspiciously.

"What?" she asked sharply, wondering if she had something in her teeth. His gaze didn't falter and she felt like his eyes were penetrating her mind. Finally, he opened his mouth and said "Who is he?"

"What?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes in surprise and confusion. He continued, brazen as ever.
"The man you're in love with. Who is he?"
"How did you-" she began haughtily, and then caught herself. "What are you talking about?" she asked carefully, her heart pounding nervously. He was dangerously close to the line, and she didn't know what she would do if he crossed it.

He looked at her almost pitifully, before saying in an incredulous tone, "Lisbon, I'm a mentalist. Did you really expect me not to notice? You're exhibiting all the signs: withdrawn, but happier. You're more tired, suggesting more sleepless nights." He winked cheekily at her. "So who is he? The man you're in love with? Don't worry; I won't tell anyone, I just want to make sure he's good enough for you."

Lisbon's heart jumped into her mouth and her brain whirred at a million miles a minute, desperate for an answer to his impossible question. She was terrified, but at the same time completely overwhelmed by frustration. How can you not know it's you? Her brain screamed, and she opened and closed her mouth several times, hoping that if she did it enough words would come out.

Finally, she cleared her thoughts and glared at him, trembling with the confliction emotions of fury and desire crashing around inside her like a stormy sea. "Just stop." She said in a low voice, and his mischievous grin sank as his eyes widened in apprehension. He could tell she was furious, but he had only been messing around! "Stop what?" he probed teasingly, his curiosity compelling him to push her further.

She broke.

All of her pent-up emotion and suppressed desire suddenly exploded and a flurry of rage-fuelled tears enveloped her as she stood up, her green eyes flashing as she begged him. "Stop what you're doing! Stop torturing me! Stop pretending you don't know what I'm thinking when you can read my face like a book!"

Jane froze, panic paralysing him as he watched her break down. He eyes darted helplessly around the room and his mind scattered in confusion as he tried to comfort her. "Lisbon, I have no idea what you're talking about! What is it that you think I know?" he yelled desperately.

"That I'm in love with you, you arrogant, manipulative, moronic son-of-a-bitch!" she screamed, and her hand flew to her mouth. They both stood stunned, and stared at each other silently from opposite sides of the desk for what seemed like a very long time. Lisbon's hand stayed glued to her lips and Jane simply stood, open mouthed, with his arms dangling uselessly at his sides. Eventually, Lisbon broke the silence with a deep, shuddering sigh, and her head sank into her hands as her eyes fluttered closed.

"I'm sorry." she mumbled dejectedly into her palm, filled with guilt and regret for putting him in such an awkward position. She didn't even hear him steeping softly around the desk to stand next to her. "Don't be." He whispered, reaching out a tentative hand to place on her shoulder. She jumped at his sudden close proximity, but quickly relaxed again. "But," she started, trying desperately to hold her composure, "I said...and you don't...and now we have to-" she stammered haltingly, and he gently stroked her chin with his thumb. She made to push his hand away, but he tightened his grip, and timidly tipped her face up towards him, so she was looking him in the eye.

"Don't be." He repeated firmly, and gathered her lips in the sweetest of kisses. When he broke away, she looked dazedly up at him, raising one eyebrow questioningly. "Why?"
"Because I'm in love with you, you beautiful, honest, fiery, saint-of-a-woman."

He kissed her again, and it was the deepest, most passionate kiss of her life. She smiled against his velvety lips, and as he wrapped his strong arms around her, caressing her hips, she got the inkling of a feeling that tonight would be a looooong night.