Disclaimer: As always, this story was written for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement was intended.
A/N: An enormous thanks to Liz (lizook) for betaing this and for putting up with my constant fretting. Without her help and encouragement, this probably wouldn't have seen the light of day.
You Look Good in My Shirt
I grabbed two beers out of my fridge and sauntered back into the living room. My partner was relaxed, splayed on my couch with her feet on the coffee table, studying a case file. I smiled to myself. I liked how comfortable she was in my home. As I got closer, I noticed something.
"Is that my lucky sweatshirt?"
She looked up at me innocently. "I was cold," she responded simply. "I didn't think you'd mind…" Before I had a chance to reply, she began hastily removing the faded FBI hoodie. "I can take it off…"
I held up a hand, chuckling. "No! Of course I don't mind." In fact, I thought she looked downright adorable in my oversized shirt. Plopping down next to her, I grinned. "It's a little big on you though…" I playfully tugged on the excess material at her waist. "We could fit two forensic anthropologists in there."
She relaxed again, reassured, and shot me a wry smile. "And what exactly makes this shirt 'lucky'?"
"I always wear it when I play basketball with my buddies and I always win." At her skeptical smirk, I thought of another example. "Parker's team wins their tee ball games if I wear that shirt when I'm coaching…" My voice trailed off when I caught her smug expression.
"And how did this shirt get its magical powers?" She didn't bother to hide the amusement in her voice.
"I don't know, Bones… It just did." At her quirked eyebrow, I rolled my eyes and huffed. "Fine, don't believe me." I glared at her, annoyed, and she laughed. Ordinarily, someone laughing at me would piss me off, but Bones looks so goddamn beautiful when she laughs that my irritation quickly melts away.
With a contented sigh, Bones settled back into the couch and resumed reading up on our case. I grabbed another file and pretended to look it over. In reality, I was looking her over. There was something strangely intimate—and arousing—about her wearing my sweatshirt. Maybe it was her scent mingling with mine… that unique, intoxicating fragrance that made me dizzy when I got too close to her. Or it could be the knowledge that something I wore on my body was now wrapped around hers. Perhaps it was my name emblazoned over her right breast—Booth—like I had branded her as mine. Whatever it was, I couldn't stop thinking about that damn hoodie. Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of inappropriate thoughts of Bones and sweatshirts and what was under Bones's sweatshirt. Work… focus on work.
"The FBI forensics team found a few strands of hair that didn't match our victim."
"That doesn't prove anything, Booth. She could have brushed up against someone on the street, transferring a few strands of hair to her apartment. We need more."
I needed more alright. Even though there were about a dozen reasons we should remain platonic, it didn't stop me from wanting her. Somehow, over the course of our partnership, her little quirks and idiosyncrasies had become endearing to me. She was my best friend, but as we got progressively closer, I wanted her to be more.
I nodded. "We'll take a look at her apartment in the morning. Maybe we'll find something the techs missed."
Satisfied, she hiked up her baggy sleeves and dove back into the file. I admired her ability to focus on something so completely. Once Temperance Brennan set her mind on something, she gave it 110 percent. I wondered if she applied that same focus in the bedroom…
"Booth!" Her voice startled me out of my daydream.
"You've been staring at me with a goofy look on your face for five minutes. What are you thinking about?"
I grasped around for an excuse, a lie to cover an embarrassing situation, but came up empty. I settled for a partial truth. "That sweatshirt."
She looked confused for a moment and looked down as if she'd forgotten she was wearing it. "Booth, I told you I'd take it off if you'd rather I not wear it." Before she could start to peel it off again, I grabbed her wrist.
"Really, Bones, I don't mind at all. Please wear it."
"Obviously it's bothering you. I know how you are about people touching your things. You're very territorial."
She had me there. Maybe it was because, growing up, I'd had to hide my things to keep them safe from Dad's temper or that I'd found in the service you protected what little you had with you. Whatever the reason, I hated when people messed with my stuff. Except Bones. For some inexplicable reason, I had no problem with her invading my space. In fact, I welcomed it, craved it even.
"Oh I'm territorial?" I nudged her shoulder with mine and adopted a girly voice, "'Booth, get your hands off the exam table! Booth, you're gonna compromise the remains!'"
She giggled. I loved that damn giggle. I rarely got to hear it, so when I did, it made me stupidly giddy. I smirked as she tried to smack me, but her sleeves got in the way. Laughing, I tugged at the shapeless, baggy monstrosity. "Look at this thing! You're gonna drown in it." I flipped the hood over her head and called into the shirt's bottomless depths, "Booones… Bones? You in there?"
"Booth!" she protested, laughing. She flailed around, trying to free herself of my makeshift snare, futilely striking out at me. I grabbed her shoulders, stilling her, and carefully unveiled my partner.
I'd only been playing around, so I wasn't expecting to be affected by her piercing gaze when the hood fell away. Her pale blue eyes were filled with amusement, affection, and something else - something that stole my breath away. The air left my lungs in a whoosh and I froze in place, with my hands still grasping the hood on either side of her face. Our gazes locked and time stopped for a few beats.
Startled, I cleared my throat, breaking the spell. I shot her a sheepish grin, which she shyly returned, and began straightening her collar. "There we go," I forced a cheerfulness into my voice that I didn't feel. As I adjusted the hood, my knuckles lightly brushed along her jaw and she shivered almost imperceptibly. I froze again, unnerved. What the hell was happening?
I desperately tried to read the situation. We were in uncharted waters and I didn't want to make the wrong move. I wanted to kiss her. I was dying to. But I was afraid of spooking her. I was notorious for driving away women, one way or another. By some miracle I'd held onto this one—the most important one—for four years and I was terrified of screwing it up. While I wrestled with indecision, she studied me with her head slightly cocked.
Her expression, full of innocence and curiosity, was my undoing. I leaned in slowly, giving her ample time to stop me, but she just parted her lips in anticipation.
We'd kissed once before, the previous Christmas, under the mistletoe and the guise of blackmail. This was entirely different. We couldn't pretend this wasn't happening or go back to being "just partners" afterward. And to my surprise, neither of us seemed to mind.
As my lips gently tugged on hers and I felt her reciprocate instantly, a jolt of electricity shot through me. I'd kissed many, many woman in my day, but I'd never felt quite so alive in response. My body was practically buzzing with pent-up energy. Her hands came up to rest on my chest and, typical Bones, she was the one to deepen the kiss. Her tongue swept experimentally across my bottom lip and it was all the encouragement I needed. With a strangled groan, I began devouring her lips and she responded with equal enthusiasm. My hands released their death grip on her hood and firmly cupped her face.
More more MORE, my body screamed, but alarm bells were blaring in my head. You're gonna to ruin this! STOP!
With excruciating effort, I forced myself to listen to my head—stupid head—and tore my lips away. I felt dazed and opened my eyes to encounter her equally befuddled expression. We stared at each other, dumbstruck and more than a little turned on.
I'd always known there was an intense passion between us just waiting to be unleashed, but actually getting a taste of it was a little scary. I had to get things under control before they got out of hand, yet I couldn't seem to make my body cooperate. Her hazy eyes and swollen lips, both caused by my frantic kisses, were pulling me back in. Distance, I needed distance. I took a step back, although I couldn't quite let go of her.
"I-Uh…," I couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone say anything meaningful.
Much to my shock and consternation, she bridged the distance between us and crushed her mouth to mine. Good ol' Bones, always trying to take control. As her soft lips pressed roughly on mine and she did some kind of magic with her tongue, I thought, What the hell? This can't possibly be that bad of an idea, right?
After an indeterminate amount of time, our frenzied kissing slowed to a more leisurely pace. I nibbled my way along her jaw and behind her earlobe, earning me a soft sigh. I really wanted to hear that sound again. My fingers tangled in her hair and I tugged gently, urging her to tilt her head back. She willingly complied and I attacked her slender neck, peppering it with sucking kisses. This earned me another sigh, louder this time. It was probably the most erotic thing I'd ever heard. As I kissed lower and lower, I encountered a bulky barrier. Damn hoodie!
Forced to abandon my downward progress, I moved to the other side of her delicious neck. My hands, which had been grasping her hips and holding her to me, slowly inched their way underneath the sweatshirt. I found the familiar sweet spot at her lower back, one of the few places I'd allowed myself the pleasure—no, torture—of touching. Her skin was even softer than I'd ever imagined and I couldn't resist stroking it lightly. She shivered in response, so I did it again. And again. Before I knew it, my fingertips were mapping every curve and contour encompassed in the worn fabric.
"Booth-" she panted, her voice sounding huskier than I'd ever heard it.
"Hmmm?" I mumbled into her neck. Summoning every ounce of willpower in my body, I forced myself to sit back and meet her gaze. I prayed I hadn't misread the situation and fucked up the only solid relationship I had. I searched her face, trying to gauge her reaction.
"I think you might be right about this shirt." Her eyes twinkled in amusement.
I choked out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Why is that?"
"Because I'm feeling pretty lucky right now." With that, she stood up and held out a hand, which I eagerly took. As she began leading me toward the bedroom, she asked, "Booth?"
"How long do I have to keep this thing on to retain its powers?"
I chuckled. "That's the great thing about it, Bones… It's even luckier after you take it off."
A/N: My muse has been MIA for a long time, so I was feeling very rusty when writing this. This was also the first time I've written something M-rated and, although it's admittedly quite tame, it was a little outside my comfort zone. Please leave me a review so maybe my muse will be encouraged to come back to me!