Title: Pink Taffeta

Rating: T

Spoilers: Goes AU after 3x24, Strawberries and Cream.

Disclaimer: This is for fun and no money.

A/N: Hello, Mentalist friends! I needed some fluff in my life and also to write something short to relieve my brain from complex plotting challenges I keep tangling myself up in, so I wrote this bit of silliness to fit the bill. This story goes AU after Strawberries and Cream. Hopefully you can get the gist from context clues, but the basic premise is that Timothy Carter was Red John, Jane went through the trial and was acquitted, Hightower is restored to her old job, and Rigsby and Van Pelt get back together not long after Van Pelt shoots O'Loughlin. But the details really aren't important, it's all just an excuse to put Lisbon back in the pink dress. :) This is part 1 of 2 chapters total. Hope you like it!

xxx

"So then, I was like…duh! It's obviously 'Wicked Watermelon!" Iris, Van Pelt's cousin, tittered at the punchline to her own story. Lisbon thought it might have had something to do with lipstick. Or possibly nail polish.

Lisbon, perched on a stool next to her at the bar, fixed a smile on her face and nodded to display her appreciation for Iris's adventures in lipstick shopping. Or maybe it had been a story about her boyfriend? And maybe there had been something to do with a Chihuahua? Lisbon took a long pull from her glass of wine and wondered when, exactly, she'd entered this particular circle of hell.

She glanced over at Van Pelt, standing with a group her college friends with a "Bride to Be" sash crossing her chest, beaming. She was positively glowing—the picture of a happy bride. Lisbon was glad to see her so happy after the year she'd had—they'd all had, really, she thought, shifting her left shoulder as an uncomfortable twinge shot through it. But Van Pelt had borne the worst of it, in some ways. Lisbon was happy that Van Pelt had found healing and happiness in the end. And Lisbon was determined to be there for her, to support her friend and colleague, to make sure that she knew Lisbon had her back, come what may.

She just wished she could have, you know, shown her support in some way, any way, other than agreeing to be a bridesmaid and having to attend this God forsaken event known as the bachelorette party. She would have happily taken another bullet if it would have given her an excuse to avoid this hellhole disguised as a country western themed bar. She took another fortifying sip of wine and eyed the exit.

"Ooh, there's Yolanda!" Iris squealed, far too close to Lisbon's ear. She waved at a statuesque young woman a couple years older than Van Pelt, with Van Pelt's striking red hair. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She's psychic, you know."

"You don't say," Lisbon muttered into her wine. Great. Just what she needed. Another person trying to cold read her in her supposed down time. She'd thought one of the few perks of attending functions like this would be that she wouldn't have to deal with that sort of crap for a few hours.

Yolanda came to join them and kissed Iris on the cheek. "Hi, cuz," she greeted her.

"Yolanda, I was just telling Teresa about your psychic powers," Iris said. She turned to Lisbon excitedly and seized her wrist. "Let's have Yolanda tell our fortunes!"

"Oh, no, really," Lisbon protested, drawing away. But before she could explain to Iris and Yolanda that literally the last thing in the world that she wanted right now was to have her fortune told, her phone rang. Thank God.

"Excuse me," she said, waving the ringing phone at them. "I've got to take this."

She stepped away from the chattering cousins and checked the display. Jane. She perked up. Maybe someone had been murdered, she thought hopefully. That would be a perfectly valid excuse to get out of what Iris had promised would be a super fun game of "Manhunt" that was apparently scheduled for later in the evening. Lisbon didn't know exactly what the game involved, but she was certain she wanted no part of it.

She hit send. "Hey, Jane," she said, striving for her usual brusque and professional demeanor. It was somewhat undermined by the sound of Bruno Mars playing in the background. And possibly by that last glass of wine. She blinked to clear her vision and straightened. "What's up? Did we catch a case?"

"No, nothing like that," Jane said from the other end of the line. "I'm just using you as an excuse to take a time out from the bachelor party. Rigby's friends have all been playing this horrendous game called 'flip cup' for the past forty-five minutes. It's some kind of relay game with plastic cups and beer."

"I know how to play flip cup, Jane," Lisbon said, rolling her eyes.

"Really?" Jane said, intrigued. "I'd like to hear about that sometime."

"I did go to college, Jane," Lisbon reminded him. "There's not much to tell."

"Oh," Jane said, sounding disappointed. "Well, anyway, they keep roaring and bumping chests with one another when they get to the end of each relay. It's very tiresome. And," he said, aggrieved, "I haven't been able to find anything to make a single cup of tea."

A giggle escaped her at that. She couldn't help it. "You haven't been able to find any tea at a bachelor party? Shocking."

Jane paused. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she said, automatically and untruthfully.

"Liar," Jane said. "I can hear it in your voice." He sounded amused. "How many glasses of wine have you had? No, let me guess. Four?"

"Five," she admitted petulantly. She didn't bother to ask him how he'd known she was drinking wine.

She could hear the grin in his voice. "You wild woman, you."

"It's not my fault," she protested weakly. "I didn't mean to drink that much. It was self-defense."

He was still laughing at her. "Self-defense?"

"Yes. I needed the wine to prevent my head from exploding from listening to one more story about handbags or Zumba classes," she said stoutly.

"Ah. Perfectly understandable, then."

Van Pelt was talking to Yolanda and Iris now. The three of them waved at her to come join them. Lisbon groaned inwardly and pasted a smile on her face as she waved back, signaling she would re-join them in a moment. "Listen, I gotta go. Have fun playing flip cup."

"Lisbon, wait—"

She hung up, and went to face her fate.

Xxx

Twenty minutes later, she escaped the clutches of Iris and Yolanda and made her way back to the bar while the rest of the women played 'Pin the kiss on Ryan Gosling.' She sat down at the bar with a sigh of relief.

An attractive young man in a black t-shirt smiled at her from behind the bar. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yes, could I have a glass of water, please?" she said.

He gave her a slow, lazy smile. "Sure thing."

She smiled back gratefully. "Thanks."

His smile widened. "Any time." She idly watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he poured her a glass of water. He really was extremely attractive, she thought wistfully. Somewhere between five and ten years too young for her, of course, but surely there was no harm in looking, right?

He pushed the glass of water towards her. "Here you go."

"You are a prince among men," she said, toasting him with her water glass and drinking greedily.

He rested those attractive forearms on the bar and leaned towards her. "You can call me Prince Mark, then." He shook his head, laughing at himself when he realized how cheesy that sounded. "Or just Mark. That's what everyone else calls me. Because that's my name."

"Teresa," Lisbon said, gesturing to herself with her half-drained glass of water. "Pleased to meet you, Mark."

He smiled at her again. "The pleasure is all mine, Teresa."

Was he actually hitting on her? Lisbon thought, the idea floating up slowly as though from the bottom of a pond comprised of several gallons of white wine. She smiled hesitantly back at him, confused and flattered. No, she thought cynically. He'd probably tapped into the whole 'flirting with older women' thing as a surefire way to secure bigger tips. Although, she thought, putting her own elbows on the bar and letting her smile go a bit wider, it was definitely working for him.

"Teresa!" Iris was back, looking between her and Mark with an accusing expression on her face. "No fair getting a head start on Manhunt without us!" She sized Mark up with a measuring glance. "And he's probably good for three whole categories!" she pouted.

Mark quirked his eyebrows at Lisbon. "Manhunt?"

"Don't ask," Lisbon advised. "It's some kind of party game."

He laughed. "Bachelorette party, right? I'm game." He leaned closer to her. "So which categories am I good for?"

"Oh, uh…" Lisbon stared at his mouth. "I have no idea."

"Ah," a familiar voice interrupted. "There you are, darling." A familiar hand rested itself on her waist, and then a familiar figure stepped close to her, invading her personal space.

"Jane!" She straightened in surprise. Mark subtly inched away. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to pick you up, of course," Jane said affably. "I could tell you'd had a few too many when we spoke on the phone earlier, so I thought I would come retrieve you so you wouldn't have to worry about drinking and driving."

"I was going to take a cab home," Lisbon protested.

"Well, there's no need now, is there?" he pointed out reasonably.

"What about you?" she accused. "Haven't you been playing flip cup?"

He looked pained. "Teresa, please. What do you take me for?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed. "What about the rest of the night? Do you swear you haven't been drinking?"

"Of course not," Jane said, affronted. "I wouldn't drink and drive. You know I wouldn't."

She unbent a little. "Okay."

Iris looked back and forth between them. "Is that your boyfriend?" she asked with keen interest.

"No," Lisbon said quickly, avoiding looking at Mark. "Just my chauffeur. Apparently."

Iris eyed Jane critically. "He's definitely good for two categories. Can I borrow him for my list?"

"Sure," Lisbon said generously. "Have at him." She smirked at Jane, who shot her a betrayed look.

"Teresa, we really should be going," Jane said meaningfully.

"I can't go," Lisbon said stubbornly, though she'd been longing to leave for the past hour. "I have to stay here to support Van Pelt."

Jane rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she won't mind. Come on, we'll go say good-bye." He took her by the hand and dragged her away from the bar.

"I have to pay my bill," she protested.

Jane stopped and returned to the bar. He slapped down a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "That cover it, Mark?"

"Yeah," Mark said, sounding disgruntled.

"Keep the change," Jane said.

Lisbon looked at him, wide-eyed. "You know Mark?"

"He's wearing a name tag, Teresa," Jane said patiently. He took her by the elbow and steered her away from the bar. "Say good-bye to Mark now."

Lisbon waved to Mark wistfully. "Bye, Mark." Mark waved back, giving her a wry smile in return. Oh, well. It had been nice when it lasted. She glared at Jane as he ushered her to the other side of the bar. "Mark and me were bonding, you know," she told him with a pout. "Why'd you have to come along and ruin it?"

"He's too young for you," Jane said, continuing to shepherd her along.

"So? He liked me," Lisbon insisted. "I could tell."

"Of course he did," Jane responded, in a tone that managed to be both soothing and condescending at the same time.

She smacked him on the chest. "Don't patronize me. He did like me. We could have had beautiful martini babies if you hadn't interfered."

"Martini babies?" Jane said, amused.

"Yeah," she leaned her head on Jane's shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy. "Shaken, not stirred."

"You're not supposed to shake babies," he pointed out. "It's a very bad thing to do."

"Oh, yeah," she remembered. She deflated. "I guess you're right."

Jane chuckled. "You're an adorable drunk, did you know that?"

She straightened at that. "What would you know about it? Mark woulda adored me, I bet, if I let him. You don't adore anybody."

He raised his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

She blinked at him owlishly, confused. But before she could gather her wits about her, Jane maneuvered her past the rest of the throng of women waiting to kiss the Ryan Duckling poster and over to Van Pelt's side.

"Jane!" Van Pelt said in surprise. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "What are you doing here?" Then she frowned. "Is Rigsby okay?"

"Right as rain," Jane assured her. "I just came to pick up Lisbon."

"Oh, you're leaving?" Van Pelt said to Lisbon, disappointed.

"Oh," Lisbon said, flustered. "Yeah. I guess so." How humiliating. She didn't want to tell Van Pelt she was pooping out before midnight because she'd gotten wasted on five glasses of wine.

"My fault," Jane said to Van Pelt smoothly. "I promised Rigsby I would bail out his friend, what's his name—"

"Derek?" Van Pelt said, alarmed. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Jane said. "Just needs to sleep it off. Anyway, he got a little rowdy, and I didn't want Rigsby to have to leave his own party to deal with it. I thought Lisbon could help me smooth things over with the local PD."

"Oh, my gosh, thank you so much," Van Pelt said to Lisbon, looking guilt-stricken. "I'm so sorry to cut your night short to deal with one of Rigsby's idiot friends."

"Not a problem," Lisbon said, with as much dignity as possible.

Van Pelt put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot."

Lisbon squeezed back. "Wouldn't have missed it," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. Jane mouthed 'Liar' at her. She stuck her tongue out at him behind Van Pelt's back.

The good-byes dealt with, Lisbon allowed Jane to escort her from the bar.

Xxx

"Do we really have to bail out Rigsby's friend?" Lisbon asked with dread. She really didn't feel like walking into Sacramento County lockup with five glasses of wine under her belt to spring one of Rigsby's meathead friends from the drunk tank.

"Relax," Jane said as he drove through the quiet streets of Sacramento. "I bailed him out two hours ago. He's sleeping it off a room below the flip cup tournament."

"If you'd had to get him, too, you'd be more like a cab driver than my own personal chauffeur," Lisbon mused.

"Your chauffeur, huh? Does that mean I should get one of those funny hats?"

She snorted. "You should definitely get a hat. I can start calling you Jeeves. But if you really want to be a good chauffeur, you should get a better car."

"I like this car," he protested. "She's served me well over the years."

"Yeah, all those flat tires and breakdowns in the middle of nowhere…"

"Hey! Why are you being mean to me when I so chivalrously came to rescue you?"

"Oh, yeah, really chivalrous, rescuing me from a conversation with a hot guy," Lisbon said, rolling her eyes. "Thanks a lot." Remembering something, she narrowed her eyes. "What was with that 'darling' stuff, anyway?"

"'Darling' stuff?"

"Before. At the bar," she clarified. "You called me 'darling.'"

Jane feigned ignorance. "Did I?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "You did." It wasn't like Jane had never pretended they were a couple before. But he usually did it on a case, for a specific purpose. Well, and to annoy her. But they hadn't been on a case. So there was no reason to pretend. Unless it was just to annoy her. Which was possible. But she didn't think that was right. She thought maybe there had been another reason. She leaned her head against the passenger side window. Maybe when her head stopped swimming she would be able to figure it out.

"Here we are!" Jane said hastily, pulling up in front of her apartment. "Home sweet home."

Lisbon blinked and straightened. "Oh." She felt reluctant to leave Jane's terrible car for some reason. She sighed and put her hand on the door handle. "Guess I'll see you later, then."

"Not so fast." Jane hopped out of the car and dashed around the front of the car to open the door for her.

She stared up at him, her mouth agape. "What're you doing?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her out of the car. "I'm escorting you to your door."

"You don't need to walk me to my door," she protested. "I'm not that drunk, Jane. I can walk under my own power."

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and guided her up the walkway leading to the front door of her apartment. "I'm not walking you to your door. I'm walking with you to your door, so that I can come inside."

She stopped dead in the middle of the walkway. "You're coming inside?"

"Lisbon, it's been hours," he said pathetically, resuming his efforts to steer her up the walkway. "I need tea."

"What if I don't have any tea?" she challenged him. But she let him steer her up the walkway anyway.

"You do," he said confidently. They reached the front door and he took her keys from her.

She scrunched up her nose. "How do you know?"

"You bought it for me recently," he said, unlocking the door. "To celebrate my acquittal. Just in case I stopped by sometime."

"You never stop by," she said, half petulant, half accusing.

He met her gaze. "I'm stopping by now." The way he said it seemed important, somehow, but her wine-soaked brain was having difficulty processing the significance. He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the apartment.

"Fine," she huffed, marching into her apartment (somewhat unsteadily). She kicked her shoes off. Ah. That was much better. "But you're making it yourself."

"Certainly, my dear." He wandered into the kitchen and started rummaging through her cupboards. Bastard of course knew exactly where she kept the tea that she'd just bought. Not for him, whatever the walking ego might say. She just…thought she might like to have some on hand. In case she needed it to help her sleep at night. Or something. Even though it did taste like tree bark and why any reasonable person would prefer it to coffee she had no earthly idea-

"Aw, Lisbon," Jane said, delighted. "You have all my favorites."

"I just bought a sampler," Lisbon defended, going to sit down at the kitchen counter and watch him make his tea. "It came with all kinds." Okay, that fancy tea place Jane liked had let her customize the selection, but technically, it wasn't a lie.

"Do you want some?" he offered.

She made a face before she could help herself. "I'm not really in the mood for tea at the moment." In fact, she had really never been in the mood for tea once in her nearly four decades on this planet. She only drank it when Jane made it for her, usually under duress.

"I'll get you a glass of water, then," he decided. He glanced up at her. "You should go put on your jammies. I know you're dying to get out of that dress. Though you do look quite fetching in it, I must say."

It wasn't the dress she was dying to get out of but the uncomfortable bra that went with it. Ha. So there. Jane didn't know everything, no matter what he thought. Smug at the thought, she decided not to argue. She also decided to ignore the pleased little flutter in her belly at Jane's apparently offhand remark that she looked 'fetching.' "Mm-kay," she said, slipping off the kitchen stool.

She went upstairs and changed into her favorite Bears jersey, then padded back downstairs to find Jane ensconced on her couch, tea in hand. He looked decidedly content.

She flopped down on the couch next to him and accepted the glass of water he handed her. "I'm hungry," she announced.

"Mm." Jane blew on the surface of his tea. "What do you propose we do about that?"

"I want pizza," she informed him.

He smiled into his tea. "Well, then. Pizza you shall have."

"Good," Lisbon said, satisfied.

He cast her a sidelong glance. "I suppose I'm buying?"

"It's the least you can do after inviting yourself in to drink my tea," she told him.

He hid a smile. "Touché, my dear. What kind do you want?"

"You have to ask?" she smirked.

"No. I just thought I would, for the sake of politeness."

"Ha. Cause you're normally so worried about observing social norms."

"Okay, fine," he said. He heaved a put upon sigh. "One pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, coming right up."

Half an hour later, Lisbon was happily devouring her pepperoni pizza, and Jane was on his second cup of tea.

"I'm glad things are finally working out for Rigsby and Van Pelt," Jane said, risking Lisbon's wrath and taking a slice of pizza for himself.

"Me, too," Lisbon said, around a mouthful of pizza. "I still can't believe Hightower signed off on the change of policy about relationships between co-workers after getting her old job back."

"I can," Jane said, taking a bite of his own. "Think about it. If she hadn't forced Rigsby and Van Pelt to split up, Van Pelt would never have started dating O'Loughlin in the first place. And if she and O'Loughlin hadn't gotten engaged, O'Loughlin would never have had the opportunity to track Hightower down through Grace and try to kill her and her children. Not to mention shooting you in the arm. If that chain of events isn't enough to change someone's perspective about petty bureaucratic regulations, I don't know what is."

"I suppose you're right," Lisbon acknowledged. "In any case, I'm glad Van Pelt and Rigsby found their way back to each other in the end." She sighed. "I just wish Van Pelt had decided to change the color scheme of the wedding to something different from the one she planned with O'Loughlin. Then at least I wouldn't still be stuck in that God awful bridesmaid's dress."

"I did wonder at that," Jane commented. "Why didn't they change it? It seems like the sort of thing Grace would think was unlucky. Unless it was a kind of final 'screw you' to O'Loughlin's memory."

Lisbon shook her head. "They'd already bought the decorations and stuff for the wedding with O'Loughlin, so they decided to re-use as much of it as possible to save money. They want to save up to put a down payment on a house."

"Very practical."

"I guess," Lisbon said without enthusiasm. Stupid pink dress.

He nudged her in the side. "Cheer up. It'll be fun. And despite Van Pelt's track record, there's very little chance that the groom will turn out to be a murdering psychopath at the last minute."

Lisbon snorted. "There is that. And now that Red John is out of the picture, we won't need to worry about any other murderers coming out of the woodwork at the event itself. We can actually relax for a change."

"Exactly," Jane said. "You can defend yourself from Iris and her ilk with as much wine as you want to without worrying about needing to chase down any serial killers through the reception hall." He finished his slice of pizza. "Speaking of which, do you want to carpool to the wedding with me?"

"Oh—I don't know," Lisbon said, hesitating. "I was going to spend the night in Napa."

"Me, too," Jane said quickly. "I got a room at the hotel where they're holding the reception. It's a bit far to drive back after an evening of revelry."

"I have to be there pretty early," Lisbon said doubtfully. "As part of the bridal party, and everything."

"I don't mind that," Jane said. "I'm happy to go early. I'm sure Rigsby won't mind if I hang out with him and the rest of the groomsmen while you womenfolk spend the afternoon beautifying yourselves. Besides, I can use the time to practice my speech."

She shook her head. "I can't believe they asked you to officiate. Are you sure this will be legal?"

"I told you, I'm a registered officiant," Jane said, exasperated.

"I know. I'm just not sure I believe you."

"Don't fret, Teresa. It will all be perfectly legal. Now, do you want to go to the wedding with me or not?"

"Fine," she conceded. "But we're taking my car."

"Very well." He closed up the pizza box. "Now that all that's settled, why don't you let me clean this stuff up while you get ready for bed?"

"You don't have to do that, Jane," Lisbon protested, though the wine was catching up with her again now that her stomach was full. She felt decidedly sleepy. She eyed the mess they'd made of the coffee table without enthusiasm. "I'll clean it up in the morning."

"Nonsense, I'll take care of it," Jane said. He stood and pulled her to her feet. He gave her a little push in the direction of the stairs. "Go on."

She went. She went to the bathroom and went through her usual night time routine, then retired to the bedroom and snuggled under the covers.

"Knock, knock," a soft voice said from the hallway.

Lisbon lifted her head from the pillow. "Jane?"

Jane came in, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "I thought you should have these for when you wake up in the morning," he explained, crossing to the bed and setting them down on the bedside table.

She bit her lip, touched by the gesture. "Thanks."

He pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, then—God, had he just stroked her hair? It felt amazing. Lisbon watched him, wide-eyed. Then he did something even more shocking. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, Teresa," he said, stroking her hair once more. "Sweet dreams."

She already felt like she was dreaming. One of the better dreams she'd had in a while, actually. "Good night, Jane," she managed.

He straightened up. "I'll lock the door on my way out."

"'kay." Sleep pulled at her. She heard him move quietly to the door. "Jane?" she said sleepily.

He paused at the door. "Yes?"

"Thanks for rescuing me."

She didn't see his smile in the darkness. "Anytime, my dear."