Word Count: 655
It happened like this:
Brennan started stocking his favorite beer in her fridge, and Booth added to his weekly grocery list the Wasabi peas she liked to snack on and occasionally throw at him when he said, "Wassup!" for the fiftieth time. More and more of his dvds (like Ghostbusters--a classic) wound up in her living room, sitting neatly next to each other on a shelf he bought and assembled for her, despite her loud protests, on a Saturday he didn't get to spend with Parker.
Then one Friday night when he didn't have other plans, Booth brought over spinach lasagna and crusty garlic bread from the Italian place two blocks from his apartment. She answered the door on the first knock, almost like she'd been waiting for him. After she stepped back from the door and beckoned him inside, he noticed two plates sitting side by side on her glass-topped coffee table. He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. "Are you expecting company?" he asked, still holding the brown paper bag full of takeout.
"Only you," she said. Flashing him a smile that made him want to smile back, she took the bag from him and ripped it open, inhaling appreciatively. "I'm starving."
After eating way too much and laughing even more over a bottle of red wine Brennan said she'd been saving for a special occasion for the past five years, they both fell into a carb-induced coma on her couch.
Booth woke to find Brennan curled into his side like she belonged there and nowhere else. His neck hurt like hell because of the awkward position, but he ignored the pain and reached out a hand to brush her hair from her forehead. She shifted closer, murmuring something that sounded a lot like "Mmph," and he stifled a laugh. When her eyes blinked open, he froze, caught in the clear blue he'd seen in his dreams for longer than he cared to admit. He waited for her to break his arm or pull away or at least ask what he was doing; she surprised him by curling her hand around his.
"If I asked you to stay tonight, would you?" she asked, her voice as quiet as her skin was soft.
"Yes," he finally replied. There was no point in pretending otherwise when they both knew he could never refuse her when she turned those eyes on him.
She released his hand but didn't look away. "Then I'm asking."
Standing, she offered him her hand. He didn't take it immediately -- just stared down at it for a moment.
"Have you changed your mind?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown his fingers itched to smooth away.
He rose and took her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. "No," he said, squeezing her hand and feeling her squeeze back. "Of course not."
A smile lit her face, and she moved to switch off the lights, leaving the room in shadow. She led him down the hall without stumbling even once. When they stepped into her bedroom, it took a second for Booth's eyes to adjust to the darkness. By then she'd tugged him onto her bed. He took off his shoes and set them on the floor before he laid down beside her. Not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of her body. Sighing, he pulled the blanket over them both and tried to relax into the unfamiliar bed.
"Good night, Booth," she said, yawning and wriggling backward until her back was pressed against his front.
"Good night, Bones," he replied, smiling. With only the tiniest bit of hesitation, Booth looped his arm around Brennan's waist and moved closer. A kiss could wait, he told himself as he started to drift off. At least until tomorrow. "Sweet dreams," he whispered into her hair before letting his eyes fall shut again.
Author's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this brief oneshot, but it wanted to be written. It's one of those little stories where things happen without a lot of fanfare.