Title: Home for Me

Author: Doc

Rating: M for language, and some B&B lovin'

Author's Note:ONESHOT. This is just my take on a few things. Like what it is Booth wants, and what the misconceptions are. Set a little into the future. And yes, I'm dipping a very nervous toe into smut, so please be brutally honest if it's terrible.


Letting the too hot water pound his back, Seeley Booth stretched his muscles under the spray and muttered a curse.

Fuck you, Temperance Brennan.

It didn't make him feel much better to say it, but he couldn't exactly feel any worse. He would have shouted curses down the street if he thought that would work but he knew it wouldn't, so he muttered to himself and kept the neighbors from calling the cops.

Wishing the water was hot enough to wash her completely out of his mind, he scrubbed a little too vigorously, feeling his skin get raw. He'd already changed the sheets and dumped the one's that carried her scent in the machine, along with a bottle of Clorox. The sheets would probably be ruined – thank god they were white already – but they would smell like bleach now, not her.

Fuck you, Temperance Brennan.

Nope, it didn't help the second time either.


Booth wondered for the ten thousandth time where things went wrong that day. It had started out pretty damn good, actually. He awoke with the sweet curve of her ass pressed against him, and his arm draped across her stomach as he inhaled the tantalizing scent of her hair. Really, it couldn't have been a better way to wake up. Bones, naked, in his bed – nope, that was pretty much the ideal way to greet the day.

She must have woken up at about the same time because he felt her breathing change, and then he heard her sigh as she stretched like an overfed cat.

"Mornin' beautiful," he whispered against her neck, planting soft kisses on her bare skin.

"Hmmm… Booth… good morning." He could hear the satisfied smile in her voice, and loved knowing he put it there.

She arched back against his hardening cock and said with a husky laugh, "Somebody's up early."

"Gorgeous, naked woman in my bed, what do you expect? Besides, you seem pretty 'up' yourself," he answered with a chuckle, sliding his right hand up her stomach to palm her breast, flicking a taut nipple.

Her answer was to moan and arch into his hand, shifting back against his now completely erect cock.

"Jesus Bones…" he managed to croak out.

She reached behind him and grabbed his ass, kneading the hard muscles with her hand. God, this woman was going to kill him. Every time she touched him he felt like a teenager again, ready to go off like a rocket.

It took every ounce of his control not to flip her over and pound into her right then. Instead, he took a deep breath and slid his left arm under her; now he had both hands free to pleasure her with. She let her head drop back against him, exposing the white column of her neck, which he began to kiss and nip, as she let out another satisfied sigh.

He pinched and flicked her nipples with one hand, as he let the other drift down between her legs. In the back of his mind he hoped she was as hot for him right now as he was for her because he had a feeling his control would only last so long. He grinned a little against her neck when he felt her wetness.

Thank you Jesus.

She let out a little cry of pleasure when he rubbed the pad of his finger against her clit, arching into his hand. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his backside where she continued to grip him to her. He stroked her rhythmically, his own pleasure escalating as she ground her ass against him with every stroke.

Finally he could take it no longer, and pushed her over onto her stomach. With his hand still stroking her clit, he lifted her slightly and slid into her, sweat beading his forehead as he struggled to hold back. Her moan of "Booth…" as he entered her took his breath.

This is home for me.


The water was cooling when he shook off his thoughts and turned the nozzle off. It was much more pleasant thinking about making love with her than thinking about the huge fight that followed. They had always fought, since the first day they met, but this one went to a whole new level. The barbs were much sharper in an argument between lovers, quite unlike their first argument when they were practically strangers.

The case had been suspected mob hit, the body a burned, stinking mess. He hated the burnt ones. Decayed human flesh was one thing, but add burnt to the description and his stomach churned. Cullen wanted answers, 'yesterday, Booth', and the FBI crime lab was adamant it would take weeks for an id on the body. Someone suggested the forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian and he called her.

She hated him immediately of course, and the feeling was mutual. She was good though, better than good, and he was a fool not to trust her science. They had words, ugly ones, and he thought the damage was irreparable. Cullen ripped him a new one when she refused to work another case with him, so he apologized, charm smile and all. She was cold, but she shook his hand before he left, the truce tentative at best. Little did he know that was the preamble to a partnership and so much more.


It was the 'so much more' that was killing him, as he pulled on a faded pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. Five years into their partnership, five years into their friendship, five years into the attraction. Somewhere along the way, he drew a line and they respected it. Respected it until it almost killed them, then respected it some more. One of them, and they even argued over which one, finally crossed it and they hadn't looked back since.

This morning was one of many they had spent in the last few months, wrapped up in each other. But this time he couldn't hold his tongue.

You just had to tell her you wanted to always wake up like that, didn't you Seel?

His shoulders slumped as looked at himself in the mirror over the dresser. His angered had drained with the water in the shower, and now he just looked defeated. Closer to forty than not, with tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and gray hairs at his temples.

Get used to the face, Seel, it's the only one you'll be looking at in the mornings.


He walked barefoot into the living room, and there she was. Sitting on the edge of the wingback chair, twisting her hands nervously.

"Bones?"

"Hey."

"I thought you went home."

"I did. I wasn't coming back."

"Then why did you?" Maybe he hadn't completely let go of his anger after all, as he heard his tone.

"Booth, please. Sit. Hear me out," she stood, her eyes huge, and of course he couldn't resist.

Once they were both seated, she struggled to find words to begin. He didn't say anything, just waited. She had been pretty clear when she left so he wasn't sure what else she had to say.

"I was … hasty… in what I said earlier. About not wanting a future … about not wanting what you want. It's just … you need more, Booth, more than I can give, and it's selfish of me to take from you when I can't give back. You deserve better." Her eyes glittered but she didn't cry. Temperance Brennan wouldn't cry.

"What is you think I want, Bones?" He sighed out the words, the weariness dropping his voice to a near-whisper.

"More than I can give, Booth," she answered with a frown.

"But what is it that you can't give Bones?" his voice gaining strength. "What is it that you, Temperance Brennan, can't give?"

"A home, a family, a white picket fence, Booth. Weddings, home-cooked meals, and babies. Midnight Mass and presents from Santa. I can't be those things to you."

"Don't you know me at all, Bones? I don't want those things. I have a home, and so do you. Yes, it's nicer when we're together but we both need our own space – I get that. We both have our own careers, I get that too. I'd never ask you to sacrifice yours to be Suzy Homemaker and have babies you don't want. If all I ever have is Parker, I'm okay with that. I'm not even sure I want more kids, Bones."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't think I do. And I don't recall proposing to you either."

"What?"

"You said 'weddings, home-cooked meals, and babies'. We've covered babies; you know that I like to do the cooking, so that leaves weddings. A wedding implies a proposal, and I think I'd remember if I made one."

She just sat there and stared at him. He stared back, a lone eyebrow raised in challenge.

When she just continued to stare, he rose from his seat and kneeled before her, a hand on each thigh.

"Bones, the only thing I want from you is you. I don't want to change you; I don't want to force you into an ideal you don't share. If what we have now is all there ever is, I can live with that. Can you?"

The tears that had threatened earlier finally spilled over as she threw her arms around him. His heart thudded as he heard her muffled 'Yes'. He pulled her tighter and pressed a kiss to her hair. She certainly made life interesting.

This is home for me.


A/N: Like I said, this may be awful and weird but it clamored to be written. Thanks for reading!