Gingerbread

Co-created by Labsquint and FauxMaven
Written by Labsquint
Edited by FauxMaven

A/N: This story was written as part of the Bones Holiday Fic Exchange, sponsored by Zerodetorres and seconded by Tempertemper77 over on LiveJournal. Those who were interested signed up for the exchange and were given a giftee; my giftee for this exchange is Nicolemack. She asked for BB romance/angst with the following three prompts: buttons, suitcase, and scrumptious. FM and I tossed a few ideas around and this is what shook out. We hope you all enjoy it…

The name of this story is 'Gingerbread'. Gingerbread is a sweet dessert that can be baked into cakes or cookies; the predominant flavors are ginger, molasses and sugar. Originally, the term 'gingerbread' referred to preserved ginger; but later it came to mean a confection made with honey and spices. In this story, gingerbread is not only a whimsical Christmas tradition from Northern Europe (later adopted in North America), but it is Margaret's hostess gift to her cousin and it is also a component in the very special Armagnac that gets Brennan and Booth in trouble into the first place.

Thanks go to FauxMaven on this fic for providing the title and all the alcohol choices, as well as her willingness to take on an unexpected piece with such good grace (nothing like having your author say 'Hey… so I signed up for a fic exchange… Wanna help?'). The days before Christmas are always insanely busy but she found time to work in several version of this fic in spite of the craziness. So thanks, FM, for once again being a willing good sport…

Disclaimer: Bones and all the characters therein are owned by FOX, Hart Hanson and Kathy Reichs.

Brennan looked up from her suitcase when the knock sounded at the door.

Three sharp taps.

She glanced at her watch. Right on time. "Come in," she called. "The door's open." She turned back to the suitcase, giving the strap one last tug over the contents and flipping the top shut, securely zipping it as she heard the door open and close.

"This one's ready to take down," she said, turning around. "I've just got to get my carry-on and―" She abruptly jerked to a halt. Standing in front of her closed door wasn't the taxi driver she had ordered to pick her up precisely at 10 o'clock. Instead, Booth stood inside her door, right beside her Christmas tree. He was wearing a long overcoat, the collar pulled close around his throat, and he wore black leather gloves to guard against the cold. Snow dusted his dark hair.

"I told the taxi driver to go. I told him you didn't need him." There were no words of greeting from him, simply a flat statement, his eyes fixed unflinchingly on hers.

Brennan suddenly felt uncomfortably exposed in the face of that sharp, all-seeing gaze until bravado came to her rescue. "You had no right to do that," she snapped her eyes narrowing on him. "What are you doing here?" Turning, she bent to lift her suitcase off the sofa, setting it on the floor and pulling up the retractable handle.

"Because I knew you'd run. My theory was simply confirmed when I saw the cab parked in front of your building."

It was as much the stark tone of his voice as his words that had her head jerking towards him. He was calmly pulling off his gloves one at a time before sliding them into his pockets. She watched his fingers rise to the buttons on his overcoat, sliding each disk slowly through its buttonhole, revealing the soft, faded denim shirt beneath. He took his time, unbuttoning the coat before shrugging it off and tossing it carelessly over the back of her low-armed wing chair. Then he stalked towards her, his eyes still fixed on hers. She purposely sidestepped, putting her coffee table between them, desperately trying to maintain a boundary.

"I have no intention of running anywhere. I always had plans to go to El Salvador. Having Christmas dinner together simply delayed my plans; it didn't cancel them. I'm just leaving today instead." She glared at him. "Except that you apparently told my taxi driver to leave. Now I'll have to call for another one. It's a good thing I padded my travel schedule. You know that I always like to arrive early for my flights."

"You don't have to call for another one, Bones. If you're determined to go then I'll drive you myself. But I think you need to consider carefully why you suddenly need to get out of D.C."

Brennan felt her palms go damp. Don't do this, Booth. Please don't do this. She straightened her spine; when she spoke, her voice was cool, almost bored. "I'm going because a project like Cihuatán doesn't fall into my lap every day. I'm going to spend a week in warm weather excavating 1,000 year old remains. If you get a case, hopefully the remains will be skeletonized and can wait until I get back. If not Mr. Bray will be available in my absence. You have a good relationship with Mr. Bray; you'll hardly even notice that I'm gone." She heard her tone start to rise and forced herself to stop talking before she started to babble.

"I'm not worried about a case." Booth's voice took on a note of dangerous quiet as he stalked around the coffee table, watching her intently as she tried to look casual, moving around the table to counter his motion. "Why am I not worried? Because you'll still be here." He saw anger flare in her eyes at his words; but more than that, he saw the barely banked panic behind the anger. "I'm not going to let you run, Bones. You owe us more than that."

"I'm not running. I've got work to do. That doesn't count as―"

She almost didn't see him move as he suddenly changed direction to meet her on one side of the table when she didn't react fast enough. One hand closed around her wrist, holding her beside him in an iron grip that still somehow managed to be gentle. But it was the hand that rose to softly cup her cheek that made her freeze in place.

His thumb stroked down the side of her face with a feather light touch. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his as he looked down at her.

"Don't do it, Bones. Stay... please." His last words were nearly a whisper.

Gazing up into his eyes, she saw everything that she was running from...

The guests were all gone.

Dinner had been a great success. It had been a time of family, a time of laughter and camaraderie, of affection and love. For Brennan, who had never had a Christmas like this as an adult, it was a new experience and one that she very much enjoyed.

At one point over dinner, as the conversation and laughter rose and fell around her in waves, she sat wordlessly, her gaze moving over the guests around the table. Her cousin Margaret to her left, Hodgins, Michelle and Cam. Her father opposite her at the far end of the table. Daisy, Sweets and Angela. Booth at her side.

She felt emotion rise in her throat as she heard Booth's toast again in her mind.

To family, friends, lovers, family and food.

She understood suddenly why he had said 'family' twice. It was the key. Family turned a festive dinner party into something more. Something that carried with it the emotional weight of belonging.

Suddenly a hand gently covered hers and, looking over, she found Booth's warm gaze fixed on her. She saw the unspoken question in his eyes: 'Are you okay?' She gave him a small smile and squeezed his fingers once before sliding her hand out from under his to reach for her wine glass.

Much later, the guests took their leave in pairs. Sweets and Daisy. Michelle and Cam. Angela and Hodgins. And finally Max and Margaret.

Leaving Brennan and Booth alone in the suddenly quiet apartment.

He wouldn't hear of her cleaning up alone, so while he put on a CD of jazzy Christmas music, she poured out the last of the fruity Spanish Marques de Caceres Rioja that they had been drinking with dinner.

They drank wine and talked and did the dishes.

Afterwards, Brennan sent Booth over to sit by the tree as she retrieved her bottle of Castaréde V.S.O.P. ten year old Armagnac. She carried the brandy and two glass snifters over to the coffee table before taking her place on the couch beside him.

Booth's eyebrows shot up when he saw the bottle. "Look at that; you've been hiding the good stuff."

"I like a nice Armagnac every now and then," Brennan replied. She opened the bottle and poured two measures into the glasses before handing Booth his. "And I can afford it." She set the bottle down next to the ornately decorated gingerbread house that Margaret had made and brought as her hostess gift. It was in the style of a classic Victorian house, with high gables and candied glass windows, sugared icicles dripping from the candy-studded roofline.

Booth simply shook his head at her and chuckled. His partner never made any bones about her financial independence. But he realized that he was lucky that she always felt to free to share her prosperity with him. He cupped the bowl of the snifter in his palm, swirling the copper-colored brandy and inhaling the spicy, buttery scent. He reached across and touched his glass to hers. "Merry Christmas, Bones."

"Merry Christmas, Booth." They both sipped, tasting the subtle notes of gingerbread in the rich brandy.

It was quiet and peaceful in the apartment. All the lights were off except for the tree, the tiny white lights throwing a soft glow about the room. They talked for a while ― about Parker's trip to Quebec, about her odd cousin Margaret's penchant for quoting Benjamin Franklin, and the success of her party. Booth topped up their glasses and they continued to talk, deep into the night.

Finally, Booth set down his snifter and looked at his watch. He didn't want to leave ― he was comfortable here and warmed inside and out by the brandy ― but it was approaching 1 a.m. and he knew that he should let Brennan go to bed.

He stood. "Thanks for the nightcap, Bones, but I should be heading home. I'm just going to call for a cab; I hitched a ride with Hodgins on the way over."

Standing herself, Brennan watched him as he pulled out his phone and called for a pickup.

He flipped the phone closed to end the call. "There'll be someone here in five minutes. There's a driver in the area. I just need my coat."

"I'll get it for you; hold on." Brennan turned to go to her bedroom where Booth's coat lay across her bed, but moved too quickly and stumbled slightly. He reached out and grabbed her forearm, steadying her. Embarrassed color flushed her face. "Maybe I went a little heavy on the brandy," she murmured. Then, taking extra care, she went to retrieve his coat.

He was still standing by the tree when she returned to hand the coat to him, stepping back as he pulled it on, leaving it unbuttoned.

Then he stepped towards her, moving in close. "Thanks for a lovely Christmas, Bones. Even without Parker, it was still a Christmas spent with family." He leaned in and brushed his lips over her flushed cheek.

As he started to pull away, she instinctively turned her face towards his, seeking out his warmth so that they were cheek to cheek. The spicy sandalwood and citrus scent that was quintessentially Booth was almost as intoxicating as the brandy. He froze at her movement for just a fraction of a second, his mouth hovering near hers, but that was all the time they needed.

Neither knew who moved first. Him? Her? Perhaps both of them together, but suddenly her lips were under his as they sampled each others' mouths. His hands found her hips, pulling her against him as her arms wrapped around his neck and she rose up on tiptoe to meet him halfway.

One step forward had him pressing her back against the door as he released her hips, holding her with his body instead. The tip of his tongue tested the tender flesh on the inside of her lower lip and her lips instinctively parted for him; he tasted like the brandy they had just shared. The unyielding pressure of his hips and chest pressed her into the solid oak at her back as his fingers speared into her hair and his mouth stroked hers. Her hands slid under the untucked shirt that he wore to spread over the warm skin of his lower back, glorying in the solid muscle under her touch and pulling him closer, wanting more of his weight against her.

For minutes there was only the muted sounds of heavy breathing, quiet murmurs and wet kisses as they parted and came together again and again before Booth pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. His head was spinning but he didn't think that it was from the brandy. "I think I should go, Bones. We've both had too much to drink and we can't let this go too far."

Her eyes still closed as she felt the rhythmic exhalations of his breath against her lips, she simply nodded.

He chuckled and, closing his hands around her upper arms, he pulled her away from the door. "I can't go through the door, Bones, if you are standing in front of it." He steadied her until she stepped backwards, away from him, her eyes averted from his.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

She nodded wordlessly.

"Thanks again." He paused for a moment but then shook his head as if talking himself out of any further action. "I've got to go; the cab will be waiting." He waited a beat, but she still didn't meet his eyes. "I talk to you tomorrow, Temperance."

At the sound of her given name, she looked up, but she only nodded wordlessly.

"Good night then. Lock up after I'm gone." And with that, he went through the door, closing it behind him.

She moved forward automatically to lock the door. She knew him well enough to know that he would stand on the far side of the door and wait until he heard the locks engage. Only then would he leave.

Turning away from the door, she pressed the fingers of one shaking hand against her lips and felt panic start to swell.

What had they done?

"Booth, you need to let me go. I'm going to miss my flight." She shook off his hand and tried to push past him, but he grasped her arms with both hands. Even wearing gloves, the cold had seeped through to his flesh and his touch was chilled.

"Bones, you can't run away from this. It's not going to go away. We crossed a line last night and now we have to deal with it."

She struggled against his hold. "Why? Why can't we just forget about it? It never should have happened."

Booth held on tighter. "No, it should have happened sooner. Don't tell me that you've never thought about it. I know I have. Lately I've thought about it a lot. But I've always been too scared to make that first move. Too scared that you'd reject me." He met her eyes. "But you didn't and that wasn't just because of the alcohol. You felt something too. Before your brain kicked in and you panicked, you liked being in my arms."

Her lips pinched into a thin line. "We can't do this. We're professional partners. We could ruin everything. Our friendship. Our partnership. Everything."

"Or make it that much better," he argued. "Why won't you even give us a chance? You're willing to run rather than stand here with me and fight for us?"

"There's no us!" Her voice rose as she practically wailed the words. "Booth, we can't do this."

"Why?" His voice rose to match hers.

She pulled away from his hands, stepping backwards from him. "Because I'll mess it up. I always do. And then you'll walk away and I'll be alone." Her voice dropped as she hung her head and when she spoke again, a tremor ran through her words. "And I couldn't bear it if you walked away."

"Bones." Booth voice was quiet as he stepped forward and took both of her limp hands in his. This wasn't the Temperance Brennan he knew. This woman was defeated, as if she had already lost everything she held dear. "Look at me."

He waited patiently until she finally raised her head to look at him. There was misery in her eyes."You won't mess it up; I won't let you. And you definitely don't need to leave the country to escape this. Think of last night as the push that we finally needed to take our relationship in a new direction. We've been bobbing and weaving around each other for too long; now we've taken that step. It's clear that we're attracted to each other. Why don't we see where this takes us?"

"And if this takes us towards the end of our partnership?"

"It won't." She tried to look away. "Hey… hey." He waited until she turned back. "Don't set us up for failure. The center holds, no matter what."

"How can you promise that?"

"I just can, Bones. It's too important to both of us. Now, come here." He slid his hands over her hips and tugged her towards him before brushing his lips over hers once, twice, three times before he felt her loosen in his arms and felt her palms come to rest against the plane of his chest. Then he sank in.

Minutes later they came up for air, both of them breathing hard. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal the naked flesh beneath and one of her shoulders was bared.

"I think," Booth panted, "that you need to cancel your flight. You're going to be busy today."

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. "You're going to be busy too. I have very high expectations for my partners."

Challenge flashed in his eyes. "I'm going to leave all your other partners in the dust. But what if we don't want to leave this apartment for days? What if all this strenuous exercise leaves us hungry? I'm not sure that those scrumptious tofu turkey leftovers from last night are going to hold me." But his tone was teasing and he grinned at her when she gave him a playful slap on the arm. He glanced sideways at the candied gingerbread house on the coffee table. "I guess I could eat that. It would probably give me one hell of a sugar rush."

"We'll order in," she said dryly. "We don't want your energy to flag. I'm known to have a rather ravenous sexual appetite, you know."

One eyebrow cocked in interest. "Bring it on, Bones. Bring. It. On." He grabbed her hand and started to pull her towards the phone in the kitchen. "Time to cancel your flight." He grinned at her voraciously. "And then you're all mine for days…"

We wanted to wish you all a very happy New Year. We personally have some high hopes pinned on 2010 for several reasons. So here's to 2010! May it be a great year for all of us...