Title: A Dangerous Aficionado
Summary: Temperance Brennan has acquired herself a fan she'd rather not have.
Rating: Eventually a big dirty M. And a bigger, dirtier MA for those of you on my list. ('My list' sounds very ominous, doesn't it? Ha! Ha!)
A/N: For those of you reading 'Into the Wild' fear not! I haven't forgotten about it. I'm thinking… musing… plotting and conspiring. For now, I'm contenting myself with some Brennan angst and some sexy Booth playing hero. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I run Fox, it would totally be closed down by now. I think there are television laws about the stuff I write!
She sometimes does yoga when no one is around.
Most of the time she's alone, anyway. Her apartment isn't exactly the hotspot of her area. In fact, there has only ever been three people there that I've noticed; a guy she used to date, her friend and colleague, the brash dark haired girl with the naughty eyes and her partner. The partner. The most arrogant and self-confident asshole I've ever seen in my life.
But he doesn't turn up there very often and I suspect she goes to extraordinary lengths of ensure he doesn't. She keeps herself distanced from many things, does Temperance Brennan. Life, being the first. She's so distracted by her work, whether it be as a scientist or a writer that she forgets to breathe, sometimes.
I've made it my own personal goal to make her see how nice life can be. When she finally notices me. When she finally looks out her window and sees how I watch her.
I'm fascinated by her. By her mannerisms.
It started as a mere interest. Sometimes, when there was nothing on television and I'd read all the magazines I have, I'd watch her from my window. From my lounge I can see straight into hers and, if I peak out my bathroom window, I can see into her bedroom.
I don't do that very often because I know it's perverted and it's only wise to limit myself. Once a week, maybe. Any more and I'd be at risk of insanity. Dr Brennan has that kind of effect on people. Whether it be insanity caused by fury or insanity caused by longing, it's really not important. She's just good at causing havoc in people's lives without even realising.
Take the asshole, for example. She doesn't know it, but he drives by her apartment twice a week. Usually at night. He never goes in because, like I said, she is careful to ensure he doesn't. So either he wants to speak to her or he wants to reassure himself that she's safe. If I had to take a gamble, I'd say the latter. The fool is infatuated by her.
Then there is her friend, who scolds her one a day, regularly, because she does foolish and dangerous things when she's a work. How do I know? Her books, of course. A badly veiled version of her life. The sexual tension between her heroine and the FBI agent makes me sick. When will she realise he'll never be enough for her?
Perhaps she's fascinated by the former military thing he had going on. The strapping Ranger with the rifle and the fatigues.
She's doing yoga today.
She's wearing the old grey vest shirt and the navy leggings. I like the leggings. She's got the most fantastic calves, and generally, no one gets to see them because she only occasionally wears skirts. I see them more often than most; she always has tiny shorts on when she goes to bed. And a skimpier vest than that which she's wearing, now.
When she stretches her torso tenses and her chest puffs out. Most people will never get to see this side of her and I know I am privileged. I think perhaps a sign was thrown my way when I decided to purchase this apartment. I had been reading her books for awhile, vaguely wondering that the dark-haired woman whose photograph graced the dustcover. She was elegant and poised and I admit, I was intrigued from the outset. But when I saw her, in the flesh, through the window I knew the apartment was destined to be mine.
Her legs unfold and she stands, shaking her arms. Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, she turns towards the bedroom and pulls her vest over head. When she disappears into the bathroom I know she's turning on the shower and, in a few seconds I know she'll emerge, go into her dresser and collect all her toiletries.
She doesn't disappoint.
I see her, wearing only her bra and the leggings now. I cannot resist, I press my nose against the glass, my eyes wide, my mouth dry.
She's exquisite. And she hasn't had a man in her bed for months! There may be hope for me. I cannot imagine why she wouldn't find me attractive. I might not that the same looks as her partner, but I'm not below average, either. Plus I am educated. She'd like that.
I take my cell, withhold my number and dial hers. I know it by heart. I've dialled it many times. I love to hear her voice when she answers, smoky and lovely.
"Hello?" I watch her still, phone pressed to her ear, one hand on her slender hip. She's pacing her bedroom, a frown marring her beautiful features and I want to reassure her. But I cannot give the game away. I cannot let her know I see her, otherwise she'll quickly deduct who I am, where I'm from and her Federal wannabe boyfriend will bust my door down. I know he's more than capable of it.
"Hello?" She repeats. "Booth? Is that you?" When the line is silent she always asks if it's him. Does she think no one else exists in the world?
I snap my phone shut and she looks at her own phone, confused. Eventually she shrugs. Most people would be unnerved by silent callers. Not Temperance Brennan. Underneath all the unimaginable intelligence she is really quite naïve. It's amusing, in a way.
And frustrating in others.
I want to show her the world. I want to be the one she asks questions to, instead of him.
One day I'll eliminate him from the picture entirely. And then I'll claim her for myself.
A/N: A very short prologue to explain what's happening. Not exactly the most veiled story line ever. Basically Brennan is being stalked and there's only one man in the entire world who can make her feel safe. Guess who? Oh, Jeez, that's a toughie, huh? Safety and comfort lead to one thing; sex. Sex is what I am about. So, let me know. As always I am eager to know what you think.