Recently I've been having trouble with writers block, kind of due to my 2500 word coursework on Martin Luther King that has been crippling my personal life for at least two months now. So just to show you that I've not curled up and died or anything I wrote this on a whim at 4am in the morning whilst eating countless supplies of bonfire toffee. To all of you who are fans of my Red Reporting fic, the new chapter will be uploaded sometime tomorrow so thankyou for all the faithful readers who messaged me over what we'll call the MLK Block fiasco of 09, so Enjoy :)

Patrick Jane's brow had become damp, he pushed his dirty blonde curls back from his forehead but the heat remained in his cheeks. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as far as humanely possible, his shirt was undone a button too many, if the situation furthered it was even possible he would have to peel his waistcoat from his body. And by god in Patrick Jane's fashion protocol, that couldn't happen. If Patrick Jane could pray, there would be one thing he would be asking from god right now and for once it didn't involve a half naked senior agent, all green eyes and dark hair, calling him into her office with more than just filing on her mind. This time, it involved him skinny dipping in the ice cold temperatures of Arctic water, possibly featuring an appearance by the all green eyes and dark hair senior agent. And maybe a penguin.

There could only be one explanation, one word that could explain why Kimball Cho had spent half an hour with a cheeseburger and a small bottle of yoghurt trying to pry Rigsby from underneath his desk with the only ice pack in the place, which he had happened across whilst searching in the first aid box for plasters to stick on Jane's face while he slept.

Only one explanation for why Grace Van Pelt was fanning herself with a mouse mat whilst having hallucinations about a less than attractive copy boy dipping her in a cheese and chive sauce like a stale dorito.

Only one explanation for why Teresa Lisbon was plastered to her office window, clawing at the condensation on it and praying for a drug dealing ice cream man to drive past so she had an excuse to leave the office, pretending it was to stop the drug dealing, acne paved ice cream boy when actually it was to sit in his ice lolly freezer whilst smothering herself with Mr Softie ice cream.

And one final explanation for why Virgil Minelli was tossing and turning in his desk chair, his neck tie hanging loose from the door handle, pens scattered on the floor, and muttering endlessly about the loch ness monster and Patrick Jane.

Heatwave.

If god could laugh he would be chortling. The one thing a heatwave could do, one of its most amazing powers, was to bring out peoples innermost thoughts. Heat made people confused and waves had nothing to do with any of that so just pretend for now that when we say heatwave, we miss off the wave. So really. Just think of heat.

And in a non window opening office building, like the CBI, filled with weapons and overheated cops. Either there was going to be a murder. Or more likely. Just an uncomfortable and maybe humorous situation.

Jane was afraid. Afraid he may die. Death by toaster they had heard. Death by sun? Meh. He was coming close to taking off his waistcoat which would probably result in an outer body experience, which he was starting to think was cool. That was probably, however, just the heat, as in that moment he was also thinking how cool it would be to pingu. He had barely had time, with all the panting and sweating he was doing, to notice anyone else in the bullpen, and when he did take a second glance, they were just doing the same as him. Dyeing a slow death, yet wishing it would come quick. Jane took notice of Sam Bosco, stumbling somewhere out in the hall, if he wasn't so short of breath Jane would have probably laughed so he reminded himself to take a moment out of his day later to do so.

Rigsby and Cho were wresting in the middle of the bullpen, over what looked to be a warm $2 ice pack, with Rigsby coming close to growling and Cho looking something close to a ninja cat. Van Pelt was fanning herself with various objects obviously unsuccessful from the throwing of a mouse mat across the room at a young spotty copy boy that looked like he was been turned slowly on a spit roast.

His eyes scanned further around till he saw the one thing that could probably bring him back from the deep depths of overheat, and soon his two favourite words were rolling off his tongue, Teresa Lisbon. The blinds were open like slits to inside her office, and he could just make out her shadow sat by the window. Her head was laid limp against it and her eyes were fluttering closed. Another two words came into play in Jane's mind at that moment, Kodak moment. He steadied himself against his sofa and managed to push himself to his feet. Once successful, Jane was tempted to shake a triumphant fist at the gods, but held himself back.

He didn't waste time knocking, when did he ever, so he just walked in. Lisbon didn't even stir and Jane took a moment to drink her in before he had to go over there and wake her up, he didn't have to, but he had to, it was in his job description. She was sat on the window sill of her office, knees ticked under her chin, head resting half on the cool window pane and half on her drawn up knees, her dark hair was pushed behind her ears leaving just her bangs hanging loose, her cheeks were pink and the buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned two more than usual. Interesting.

Walking over, he took out a hand and placed in firm on her shoulder, he had planned to shake her awake but his hand thought otherwise and didn't move until Jane telepathically threatened it with amputation. Her eyes fluttered open, catching blonde hair and blue eyes before jerking awake. Jerking so hard she flew off of the window sill, and was heading for the floor. Jane caught her with his left hand, it was spread across her waist but before he could sturdy himself let alone catch her, she spun him around till they were both on the floor. Her, back flush to the floor, and chest flush to Jane, and him on top of her raised on both of his hands over her shoulders but still pinning her to her own carpet.

They were both panting heavy and their breathes were cool on one another's face. Her eyes shut feeling his cold breath on her cheek, but then she snapped out of it, knowing if she didn't change the situation and get back to the slow death she was happily dying, Jane would hold leverage over her.

She raised her hands but the space was constricting. She laid them on his chest trying to push him off, but he wouldn't move, so she settled for fixing him a stern glare instead.

"I think you can get off of me now Jane" He smiled, his hands were holding him up off of her upper body but his waist had hers pinned.

"No" It cam out barely a whisper, and she felt his eyes all over her, her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth and the shirt she was wearing, minus the two buttons than usual. She squirmed under him and his piercing gaze, attempting to worm her way out from underneath him. He then took one of hands, leaving him balanced on just the one and laid it across her waist. The action drew her eyes immediately to his. She frowned. It was cute.

This time her voice came out barely a whisper. "What are you doi-?" before she had time to finish Jane used the hand across her waist to tuck a strand of raven hair behind her ear, and when he caught her green stare again, heat or not, he had to do something. He quietly edged down to her face, revelling in her silence until his lips caught hers and locked them for a moment while he waited for a response. When he felt her lips move against his he went full force. He rolled them over so he was on the bottom, still their lips not separating, both their eyes were closed and they could have been anywhere in the world and not have cared, let alone her office floor. His hands found her waist and one found he face, using his thumb to feel the soft porcelain skin of her face and cheekbone. They stayed like that for several minutes, mouth on mouth, passionate and in each others arms. Heat or no heat, there was no forgetting this for a long time.