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After the night at Jane’s house in Malibu, it’s like some barrier between them has been taken down. Jane had always been more tactile, it came with his history and with him, generally. She had never been big on touch, only offering that comfort to her brothers after they had lost their mom and she had enough patience left in her to handle three wildly different boys while not bothering their dad.
Like most other things, though, that had changed when Jane had wormed his way into their lives. Jane was the only person allowed to hug her, for one, and she had made it clear to him that the hugs were only ever to be given with honest intent. He often would help her into her jacket before they ran off to a scene, or before he whisked her away on some plan he hadn’t clued anyone onto yet. He would have his hand on the small of her back, a gentle guidance or reminder of his presence.
Now, though, his hand would hover there until they were at her desk, or he beelined to the break room for his tea, or wherever it may be that their paths had to diverge. He would brush his hand against hers when dropping off a coffee or a bear claw, she would run a hand gently over his curls to wake him when he dozed on the couch.
It’s when they’re working the next case that they seem to take another step in this new direction they’ve gone in. She’s sitting on the couch in her office, exhausted after a long day going between the panzer case and the explosion at the boat. If she’s not dealing with the case, she’s worrying about Jane, worrying about the FBI and Red John and what could possibly go wrong next. She’s caught up in these thoughts, eyes roaming over the case files in her lap but not processing anything when Jane comes in and plops on the couch next to her, grabbing the case files and giving her a questioning look for a moment before rearranging himself.
She looks down, eyebrows raised, but is met with Janes eyes already closed, his head now pillowed in her lap. The files are tucked against his chest under his crossed arms.
“Um,” She says, her left hand resting gently on his hair, “I was reading those.”
He hums, cracking one eye open. “No, you weren’t.”
“Okay, maybe I wasn’t, but I was looking at them. Also, what are you doing?”
He closes his eye, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “I can’t think. I don’t think I’ve slept in 48 hours. You’re worrying about everything and can’t focus on the case. Thought we could have a little rest.”
“A little rest,” She repeats, mostly to herself and not really a question. “In my office, on the couch, while I’m still sitting up?”
“In all the years that we have worked together, you have fallen asleep at the office exactly twice. However, I sleep here all the time. So, I figured, I could nap and you could at least not uselessly read files and fret over me, since I’d be right here.”
Lisbon sighed, but couldn’t disagree with Jane, damn him. She had felt at least half of the tension drain from her shoulders when he walked into her office. She crossed her other arm over her stomach, twisting the fingers that had been resting on his hair loosely into his curls. She glanced at the clock on her desk, nodding.
“Okay. Thirty minutes, and then I’m going back to work.”
Jane smiles, then, his eyes still closed. “Thirty minutes.”
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These little rests , as Jane likes to call them, start happening more frequently over the next several weeks. The first few times, they mirror the first occurrence, Lisbon on her couch trying to work through something, Jane replacing case files with himself. After the second time, though, Lisbon doesn’t have it in her to wake Jane when he’s actually resting, so she slips the files out from under his grasp and continues to mull them over until Jane wakes or something finally pops out at her.
It’s not until the fifth or sixth time that Lisbon realizes, truly, this is a new routine of theirs. This time when Jane walks in to her office, she’s at her desk, typing on some report that she’s been trying to get right for the better part of an hour. He goes over to the couch silently, sits on the edge of the cushion, and glances over at her.
The realization that without thinking about it, without even a word out of either of them, that she was going to join him and pillow his head in her lap? It scares her, a little bit, scares her enough for her to push it down into the box in her mind she’s shoved other thoughts and feelings about Jane into, and schools a playful grin on her face.
“So you just expect me to be at your beck and call now, huh?” She says lightly, hoping that Jane hadn’t caught her moment of anxiety.
What she doesn’t expect is for him to lose his mask, even if just for a moment, a bashful smile and red tint on his cheeks before he composes himself. “Why, I would never. I just thought we both seem to be happier people after a little nap, and you were quite sour this morning after they got your coffee wrong at the cart.”
“What would make me less mad about my coffee is new coffee,” She says as she closes the report file and locks her computer, leaning back in her chair. She tries not to focus on how badly she wants to give in without an argument and join him on the couch.
He flashes her a classic Jane grin, patting next to him. “I promise I’ll get you a new coffee after we rest a bit.”
She gets up with a roll of her eyes, settling into the couch easily, hand finding its way into Jane’s hair the second he’s settled his head on her thigh. She closes her eyes as her fingers card through his curls, her mind still whirring with thoughts. They’ve been lucky, thus far, with not having anyone come into her office while they’re like this. She doesn’t even know what she would say, if it weren’t Van Pelt, Rigsby, or Cho. God forbid it be Wainwright. She also knows that even with the risk, she doesn’t want Jane to stop coming into her office and resting his head on her lap. She would rather stutter out some nonsense about it helping with Jane’s psychic abilities than to have to give this up.
Lisbon has thought about asking Jane to come home with her. It carries less risk, not being in her glass-walled office. She also knows that it would be like lightning a match next to an open pool of flammable liquid in regards to the rumors already circulating about the two of them. Not that she cares, necessarily — they are just rumors, after all. It would also be easy enough to explain that it’s better for Jane to sleep on her couch than in the CBI attic. If she could just work up the nerve to suggest it, to say Jane, come with me , she would, but —
“I can hear you thinking, Lisbon,” Jane says, effectively cutting off her train of thought. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“I… no. I’m just caught up in the case, that’s all. Do you want to get dinner, tonight? I could really use a distraction from work.”
Jane hummed, nodding his head minutely. “I think we should get chocolate chip pancakes. From Rose’s diner, preferably, they have good eggs.”
Lisbon smiled at that, biting the inside of her lip. “Sounds like a plan.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, no, but… for now it would do.
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They don’t make it to the diner until 11 pm that night, after a new break in the case leads them on an adventure in several of Sacramento’s best alleys. Lisbon is sat with her coffee, Jane a tea, a plate of eggs and an all too high pile of pancakes on the table between them. They eat in silence for some time, both exhausted from their earlier adventures.
“There was something else you wanted to say, earlier,” Jane eventually breaks their comfortable silence. Lisbon raises her eyebrows, sticking another bite of pancake into her mouth. Jane sets his cup down, letting his gaze roam over her face, probably trying to get a read in. “Before you asked me to dinner, Lisbon. I could feel you thinking a mile a minute.”
“It’s just…” It’s just this new thing we do, this line we’ve crossed but haven’t talked about at all, it scares me. What would people think? What would we even say?
He hums, and she’s sometimes convinced he really can read her mind. “I can stop napping on your couch if it’s already in use.”
“I don’t want you to,” She says quickly, quietly, surprising herself. “It’s not that. I’m just worried about how it could be perceived, and I was just thinking that — let me finish,” She raises her hand to stop Jane as he takes a breath to speak. “ I was thinking that maybe instead of napping at the office, you could, just,” She takes a breath herself, pointedly avoiding his gaze, eyes locked on the pancakes. “You could come to my place, after work. It’s more professional not to nap in the office, anyway.”
“So it would be more professional to nap on your personal couch?” He asks, eyebrows raising playfully.
“I’ll rescind my offer,” She threatens, though there’s no heat to it. He raises his hands in mock innocence.
“Are you sure, though?” Jane asks her after a moment, voice soft. When she meets his eyes, she’s met with complete sincerity. It’s disarming.
Lisbon nods, taking a sip of her coffee. She doesn’t trust her voice not to reveal things, right now.
“Then I believe it is my duty to stop putting your job at risk and nap on your personal couch, my dear Lisbon. How does tomorrow sound?”
“Tomorrow sounds great, Jane.”
Jane shoots her a dazzling grin, and she’s too exhausted not to send one right back. Tomorrow would be a good day.