#patrick jane

He stole people's lunches. He wandered off in the middle of briefings. He ignored protocol with almost artistic dedication. And somehow... Y/N L/N was the only person who could keep up with him. Nobody knew how. Least of all, Patrick.

"You've got exactly four seconds." Patrick looked up from the couch in Lisbon's office without moving an inch. "Four seconds until what?"

Y/N stood over him, arms folded, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Until I drink your tea." Patrick sat upright so fast he nearly dropped his porcelain cup. "You wouldn't." "I absolutely would."

"It has honey in it." "I know." "You hate honey." "I hate waiting." Patrick narrowed his eyes. "You bluff."

Without another word, Y/N reached for the cup. Patrick yelped. Actually yelped. "Fine!" He scrambled off the couch. "I'm coming."

Lisbon watched him practically jog out of the office. She blinked. Then looked at Cho. "...Did she just make Patrick Jane hurry?"

Cho nodded once. "Yes." "I've been trying for five years." The secret wasn't complicated. Y/N had simply learned Patrick's language.

If she ordered him to do something... He'd ignore her. If she gave him a logical explanation... He'd find a loophole. If she threatened paperwork... He'd disappear. But threaten his tea? Immediate compliance.

The team found it endlessly entertaining.

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"How'd you figure him out?" Rigsby asked one afternoon. Y/N shrugged. "I watched him." "That's it?" "He acts like a giant cat." Everyone stared.

"You can't force a cat to do anything." Cho nodded thoughtfully. "Accurate." "You redirect it."

Patrick walked into the bullpen just in time to hear the last sentence. "I'd like everyone to know I resent being compared to a cat." Y/N smiled innocently. "So you're saying you don't knock things off desks because you're curious?"

"..." "You don't disappear whenever someone says 'paperwork?'" "..." "You don't insist on sleeping in sunny spots?" Patrick looked around hopefully. "Can someone help me?" Nobody did.

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Two weeks later... The CBI attended a charity gala. Naturally, Patrick hated every second of getting ready.

"Ties are tiny prisons." "They're fabric." "They're symbolic."

Y/N sighed as Patrick attempted—for the fourth time—to tie his tie into what resembled an elaborate knot sailors might use. "You've somehow made it worse." "I disagree." "You've created a new geometric shape." "It has character."

She laughed. "Come here." Patrick obediently stepped closer. "You always smell like tea." "It's my natural scent." "No."

She reached up and untangled the disaster he'd created.

"You spill tea on yourself at least twice a day." "It's part of my charm." "That's one word for it." Patrick watched her fingers expertly fix his tie. She was standing close enough that he could count the tiny flecks of colour in her eyes.

Close enough to notice the way she bit the inside of her cheek whenever she concentrated. Close enough to... "...You're staring." He blinked. "I am."

"You usually hide it better." "I got distracted." She smiled softly. "I'm aware."

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When they arrived at the gala, Lisbon immediately regretted bringing Patrick.

Within ten minutes...He had convinced a wealthy businessman he'd accidentally switched watches with another guest.

Started an argument between two politicians over poker. Won three hundred dollars in a charity auction without actually bidding. And somehow acquired a chocolate fountain skewer.

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose. "Y/N." "Yes?" "Your boyfriend." "He isn't my—" "Go get him."

Patrick was standing by the dessert table explaining probability to an utterly confused socialite. Y/N walked over. "You've been unleashed for exactly twenty-two minutes." "I've been delightful." "You've started two minor incidents." "They'll become funny stories."

"You stole strawberries." "They were abandoned." "They were on someone's plate." "They looked lonely." She couldn't help laughing. Patrick grinned triumphantly. "There it is." "What?" "The laugh." "You caused it." "I know."

"It's dangerous that you're proud of that." "Oh, I'm exceptionally proud." As the evening continued, the ballroom orchestra began playing slower music.

Couples drifted toward the dance floor. Patrick watched them quietly. "You dance?" Y/N looked surprised. "A little." "Hm." "What does that mean?" "It means..." He offered his hand. "I'd like to see." She looked at his hand. Then at him. "You?" "I do know how."

"I've never seen evidence." "I contain multitudes." "You also tripped over a rug yesterday." "It attacked me." "The rug attacked you." "It came out of nowhere." She laughed again before placing her hand in his. "One dance." "Excellent."

Patrick Jane was, annoyingly... An incredible dancer. Of course he was. "You've done this before." "A few times." "A few?" "I may have attended events far fancier than this." "You continue to surprise me." "I try."

He guided her effortlessly across the floor. No tricks. No jokes. No pretending. Just...Patrick. "You know..." He said quietly. "I like this version of you."

She tilted her head. "What version?" "The one that laughs." "I laugh all the time." "Not like this." He smiled. "Not where it's completely genuine."

Her expression softened. "You notice that?" "I notice everything."

Across the room...Rigsby elbowed Cho. "They're dancing." "I can see." "They're definitely dating." "They're definitely not." "You sure?" Cho watched Patrick smile in a way he rarely smiled around anyone else. "...No."

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After the gala, the team stopped for late-night burgers. Patrick declared fries tasted better if stolen from someone else's plate. Y/N slapped his hand away before he could steal hers. "No." "Sharing is caring." "This is theft." "Borrowing." "You never return them." "They're digested."

Cho looked up from his food. "That's worse." When everyone finished eating, Lisbon went to pay. Only... The cashier smiled. "Oh." "The gentleman already covered everyone."

Lisbon frowned. "What gentleman?" The cashier pointed. Patrick was already halfway outside. Hands in his pockets. Whistling innocently. "You paid?" Patrick shrugged. "We had a successful case."

"You didn't have to." "I wanted to." "You paid for six people." "I can count." Y/N smiled. "You really are impossible." "I've heard that." "You know..." She bumped his shoulder. "...thank you."

Patrick looked sideways at her. "I like taking care of people." "You don't always let people take care of you." His smile became smaller. "...I'm learning."

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A few days later... Rain poured over Sacramento. The power flickered throughout the CBI building before disappearing entirely. The bullpen erupted into groans. "No computers?" "No lights?" "No coffee?"

Patrick looked positively delighted. "This is marvellous." Lisbon glared. "No." "It forces everyone to socialize." "I don't want to socialize."

Someone found an old deck of cards. Another agent produced board games from a forgotten cabinet.

Within minutes...The entire office had become strangely cozy. Rain tapped against the windows. Flashlights lit the room.

Patrick sat cross-legged on the floor teaching Y/N an obscure card game he'd learned decades ago. "You cheated." "I adapted." "You hid three cards." "I preserved options." She laughed.

"You are unbelievable." "I've been practicing."

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Hours passed. The rain never stopped. People drifted home one by one. Eventually... Only Patrick and Y/N remained. The emergency lights cast everything in soft amber. Quiet. Comfortable.

"You know..." Patrick said. "I don't actually mind power outages." "No?" "They remind people to slow down." She nodded. "I suppose they do."

"You spend your whole life rushing toward tomorrow." He looked out at the rain. "But sometimes..." He smiled softly. "...today's enough." Y/N studied him. Most people saw Patrick Jane as loud. Chaotic. Unpredictable.

She saw...The quiet moments. The thoughtful ones. The man who noticed lonely strangers. Who secretly paid restaurant bills. Who always remembered birthdays but pretended he forgot. Who smiled brightest when everyone around him was happy.

She reached over and nudged his shoulder. "You've gone all philosophical." "It happens occasionally." "I'm writing this down." "Please don't." "I'm framing it." "That's emotional blackmail."

The lights suddenly flickered back on. The office buzzed to life. Computers beeped. Phones rang. Everything became noisy again. Patrick sighed dramatically. "I liked the dark." "You only liked it because nobody could make you work." "That is a vicious accusation." "It's an accurate one."

He smiled. "Walk you to your car?" "You don't even have a car." "I'll walk back." "In the rain?" "I enjoy dramatic exits." "You really don't." "No." "I hate getting wet." She laughed. "I know."

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The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. Streetlights reflected across the pavement. Neither of them hurried. "You know..." Patrick said after a comfortable silence. "I've had a wonderful day." "We worked." "Yes." "We questioned suspects." "Mhm." "You nearly got us thrown out of a gala."

"A minor misunderstanding." "You stole fries." "They were excellent." "And sat in the dark for three hours." Patrick smiled. "Exactly." She looked at him curiously. "That was a wonderful day?" "It was with you."

The words slipped out so naturally that neither of them realized what he'd said until the silence settled. Y/N looked up at him. Patrick blinked. "...Well." "Well?" "I appear to have accidentally confessed something."

She smiled so brightly it made his heart skip. "I was wondering how long that would take." "You knew?" "You once brought me coffee." "I've brought you coffee lots of times." "You remembered the exact way I liked it after I'd only mentioned it once." "...Oh."

"You also pretend not to like hugs." "I don't." "You absolutely do." "I tolerate specific hugs." "You leaned into the last one." "I was... off balance." She laughed. "There it is again." "What?" "My favourite sound."

The rain continued to fall softly around them. Patrick looked at her with that familiar warmth that always seemed to chase away the worst parts of the day. "So..." He asked. "Dinner tomorrow?" "We have work." "After work."

"We'll probably have another case." "After the case." "You really don't give up." "I've found it's generally a poor strategy."

She pretended to think about it for a moment before slipping her hand into his. "I suppose I can make time." Patrick looked down at their joined hands. Then back at her. His grin was so genuine, so boyish, that it made him look years younger.

For once, the great Patrick Jane had no clever observation, no trick, no witty comeback. Just quiet happiness. And somehow...