A/N Because everyone loves dialogue. I don't own anything.

Under no circumstances was it a couch.

It was a sofa, and more importantly, it was was Jane's sofa.

And he wouldn't have it with anyone calling it something it wasn't.

It had been a sofa through and through, despite many heated debates between Jane and a certain brown haired agent.

Dictionaries and thesaurus had flown.

"Couch- noun- 'a long upholstered piece of furniture for several people to sit on'. Sofa-"

"Lisbon, you're fighting a lost battle!"

"-SOFA, NOUN, -a long upholstered piece of furniture for several people to sit on'. DO YOU SEE, JANE? Even the dictionary claims they're the same thing!"

"Would you just listen to me for a goddamned second, Lisbon?"

Agent Lisbon crossed her arms, but didn't say anything, her lips set in a hard line on her face.

"Couches are not sofas. A couch is an armless piece of furniture, as seen in the Victorian era, such as 'fainting couch'. Couches were for women wearing tight corsets to sit for a moment. The root of the word from French has to do with lying down. As times went on, especially here in America, we've added arms and such," Jane paused to take a breath. Lisbon stared back, unimpressed.

"And-?"

"AAAAND. The word 'sofa' is derived from Arabic, from a word meaning something like a bench, a place for sitting and reclining. Besides," he said, taking a triumphant sip of tea, "Sofa sounds much better than couch. 'Couch' makes me think of psychiatric treatments."

"Something you so desperately need."

"I heard that."

"I know."