The strangest part of the whole thing, Rigsby decided, was that Jane had turned out to be a cuddler.
He'd been with men before - okay, so maybe it was not so much men, plural, as a man back in college, but it still counted - so the whole gay sex thing in itself was nowhere near on the strangeness scale to having Jane wrapped around him like a drowsy blanket. And yeah, okay, so maybe it was also kinda strange that he'd now slept with two people from his team, but having sex with Jane was a completely different thing from having sex with Van Pelt. Not because of the gay thing, but because unlike Van Pelt, Jane wasn't someone he'd actually consider becoming romantically involved. He and Jane were just fuck-buddies. Just two co-workers blowing off some steam after a hard day at work. Well, blowing something. Really, it was no different than going bowling togethr.
Not that he went around thinking about all his co-workers as possible... bowling partners. Not regularly, at least. Van Pelt had been an exception, and so was Jane. It wasn't like he wanted to have sex with everyone in his team.
Unbidden, he found his mind wandering to all those times in the locker rooms together with Cho. Those strong arms and that wide, muscular chest... And then there was that one time in San Francisco when he'd walked in on the Boss changing her shirt in what he'd thought was an empty interrogation room...
"Forget it, you're not her type. Or Cho's."
Rigsby jumped when Jane suddenly spoke. "Wait, what, I wasn't-" He frowned. "How did you know?"
Jane smiled at him sleepily, his eyes still closed. "Well, based on your performance, I'm not your first male partner, so that's not what has you thinking. That leaves sexual relations with a co-worker, and since you've already had sex with me and Grace, it's natural that you'd be thinking about Cho and Lisbon."
Rigsby gaped at Jane, trying to come up with something to say, but his thoughts kept straying back to what Jane had said about his performance. Finally he shook his head.
"That's never gonna stop being freaky." He grinned. "Okay, what am thinking now?"
Jane propped himself up on his elbows, and looked him in the eye. "What you want me to think you're thinking is something in the line of 'I bet you can't really tell what I'm thinking' but what you're actually thinking about is what I said about your performance earlier."