Title: Weird Dreams

Disclaimer: Yeah, right.

Summary: Jane had a weird dream, and he wants to tell Lisbon all about it. J/L-ish, R/VP-ish. Total Crack!fic.

Rating: T

This fic was written for WeBuiltThePyramids, who asked me to write a fic involving the infamous "orgasmic" paper frog and Gumby, a really odd blow-up figure that likes to wave in the wind. Somehow though, Miles Thorson got involved…and well, you'll see. :)

"I had the weirdest dream last night." Jane told Lisbon, as he sipped at his tea. "You, Rigsby and Grace were there. Would you like to hear it?" Lisbon said nothing in response, which meant she clearly wanted to hear his cracked out dreams:

Jane had been sleeping on his couch within the CBI Serious Crimes Unit bullpen, minding his own business and staying out of Lisbon's way (the woman was always angry, anymore), when he heard footsteps enter into the bullpen. He didn't open his eyes though, until he heard whoever it was clear their throat from in front of his couch.

His eyes opened to find a male with dark hair and green eyes standing above him. The man with the green eyes wasn't related to Lisbon, for he didn't have the same air of no-nonsense around him, as she usually did.

"Patrick Jane?" The man asked and Jane nodded, carefully. He didn't want to break his neck. "You may not actually know me, but I am Miles Thorson and…" Jane glanced at the young man in trepidation. Miles Thorson didn't actually exist; Miles Thorson had been yet another plotline developed by his mind to make greedy killers confess their evil deeds. "…I didn't appreciate how you used my name for your plans, two years ago."

Jane stared at Miles in surprise. How had he known? "Mr. Thorson, if that is your name…" Miles flashed Jane his driver's license, which indeed did belong to a Miles S. Thorson. "…I only needed it for the purposes of a house, I meant no actual harm." Jane moved to sit up on his couch, before he glanced at Miles again. "I always imagined Miles as a redhead, not a brunette though."

"You gave my name to a bunch of criminals, who want to kill me, and now," Miles spoke, his eyes narrowed, "you're going to fix it or pay for your mistakes!" If Miles looked sane, Jane would have laughed at the idle threat. However, Miles just looked insane and he had learned not to mess with insane people. "I don't mean to sound harsh, Mr. Jane, but Sarah and I…" Sarah? Jane titled his head to stare at the odd man. He even had a wife? Jane hoped he was dreaming. "My wife's name is Sarah; she just had a baby boy. Would you like to see his picture?" Before Jane could answer him, the man had a picture of a baby in his face; the baby reminded him oddly of Benjamin. "Ben is…what?" Jane eyed the man. Rigsby and Sarah had Benjamin. Not a figment of imagination and Sarah. "You look lost, Mr. Jane. Are you confused on children are made?" Obviously he knew how children were created, but Miles probably didn't—considering he kept saying he was the father of Rigsby's son. Jane opened his mouth to say something, when Rigsby stepped into the bullpen.

"I see you finally met Miles Thorson, Jane." Rigsby commented. Jane wondered how he knew the man was Miles Thorson! "How's Sarah, Miles?" What? Jane was completely lost, for the first time in his life.

"She's good, man!" Miles answered, joyfully. "How's Grace? It's been awhile." Miles eyes roamed the nearly empty bullpen.

"Not here at the moment," Rigsby gave, "she's taking care of our kids." He gained a goofy smile on his face and Jane stared. Had he stepped into the Twilight Zone? Nobody was making any sense! "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Mr. Jane disgraced my name, so my associates: Gumby and Hot Dog, are going to rough him up." Rigsby said nothing, as Jane leapt up from his couch and hurried into Lisbon's office.

"Lisbon!" He didn't even bother knocking on her door. His life was more important than her privacy. "Miles Thorson is here to kill me with a hot dog and green clay thingy!" It was then, he noticed that Lisbon had duct tape over her mouth and ropes were tied around her body. "Lisbon!" This isn't the time to want this! Miles Thorson wants to kill me and you want me? You know we can't…"

"Right where we wanted you, Mr. Jane!" Miles told from behind him, before he felt something hard ram into him. He quickly turned to find a ten-foot green monster behind him, idly blowing in the non-existent wind from Lisbon's office. "Gumby, attack!"

And Gumby attacked; its blow-up limbs flying everywhere, trying to kill him with its super blowing skills.

Jane fought the giant green thing; hands flailing, body tiring, until Gumby finally surrounded. He then wondered how Miles had gotten that blow-up thing into Lisbon's office, considering it was just weird.

Miles frowned. "You killed Gumby!"

"No," Jane argued, "I merely stopped him from attacking innocent bystanders." Miles said nothing, and before long, Jane heard odd noises coming from one of Lisbon's desk drawers. Carefully, he ran over and opened the top drawer up to find the paper frog he had made for Lisbon years ago.

"Orgasm, Hot Dog!"

And the paper frog orgasmed paper, all over the inside of Lisbon's desk.

Lisbon blinked. "What?"

"That's what I thought when I woke up." Jane told her. "I think I've decided that I can't have tea anymore after ten."

"I agree with this." Lisbon responded, sipping at her own coffee within the kitchenette. "…Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?"

"Why did Miles Thorson call the paper frog Hot Dog?" She looked mildly disturbed, though he couldn't blame her.

"It's another one of those mysteries of life, I think." Jane tried to explain. "It's like asking if mattresses are never on sale." Lisbon said nothing else. "I also think my dream involved a motorcycle and some kissing…"

"I don't think I want to hear," Lisbon rejected and Jane grinned.

"But you were saved by a flying catfish named…!"

"I'm leaving now." Lisbon stood up from the table.

"Rigsby and Van Pelt had two children; I think they tried naming them after you and me."

"Bye, Jane."

"Don't you want to hear the rest?"

"No, because you scare me," was all she had to say, before he was left alone with his own thoughts.