It has recently come to my attention that the word 'singlet' is not part of the American dialect. It's basically a camisole. I am an Aussie, so singlet is still in the story. :) It's for you Maggie. Lol
This really has no plot line; I just needed to write something calming.
It served its purpose for me, now I hope it does for you
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones? Really? Are you sure? Oh, you are.
I can't help but feel somewhat like a stalker as I sit at the bar watching my partner work his way around the room; smiling jovially and shaking hands politely. I do envy his command; his control of the room.
We've been somehow tricked into coming to this black tie event; "The whole lab must attend" were Cam's direct words. There was no reason given, just be there and dress well.
Who was I to mess with office politics?
I watch his strong arm extend again and again; shaking the hands of people who he either finds interesting, or finds in the path of least resistance to the bar. I can't be sure. He seems so genuine when he talks to these people; people he will most likely never see in his life again.
I know he's distracted by the evening; the benefit is taking place on one of Hodgins' privately owned boats. Oddly enough, the only staff member I notice missing is Jack Hodgins. The lucky man is probably in his fifty room mansion, sipping a glass of merlot. I try not to ponder. Booth though; Booth is encapsulated by this setting. I can see it in his eyes; in his smile, he looks positively joyful.
I know for a fact that he was excited at the prospect of dressing up for tonight. He picked me up from my apartment before driving us both here and I saw him check himself in the mirror at least twice as much as me before leaving. He needn't have worried, he always looks good.
I watched his arm extend again and wonder how much longer it will take for him to get to the bar. I also wonder how much longer I can get away with my private study of him before he notices and I have to pretend to be interested in the event rather than him.
It has been a long time since I stopped denying myself the simple guilty pleasure of watching my partner. I used to shy away from him; hide my eyes and try to not give away the feelings flowing through me. But after the last year; after the tumour; after my asking him to father my child; after all our scars were bared, I couldn't help but look at him. And look long and hard at him.
I knew what was happening. I knew the signs. I just chose to ignore them for so long that I really had myself convinced that I was not falling for this man; my partner. And I knew that he felt the same way about me. He might be the emotions person; he might be able to read off of a video whether someone is lying or not, but I can read body language pretty well considering my anthropological training.
He mirrors me. Sweets would tell me I was using psychology. At this point, I don't mind. Because I know that people follow what others do to gain their acceptance. Even down to the small things like crossing your legs under the table. Booth always follows suit. I've done multiple experiments on the topic. Sitting at the diner, I'll lean my head on a hand; he'll do it as well. In Sweets office, I'll lean one way against the arm of the seat, I'll feel him glance at me and then do the same.
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's law distorted to fit my purposes.
At any rate, Booth always wants symmetry with me. He moves with me so that we are always in the same frame of reference. Separate entities trying to occupy one space; our own paradigm.
He looks up then. Our eyes lock.
I have to smirk as he seemingly races through the crowd now. He was only being polite before. His main objective has been and will always be finding his way to me.
My smile only grows as I see him smirk also; constantly mirroring; constantly in perfect equilibrium with each other.
He takes a seat next to me at the bar and our eyes break contact for the first time as he orders us both a drink. I cross my ankles, he crosses his.
I smile, he smiles.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?"
I look around us, the water beneath the boat twinkling from the fairy lights hanging above our heads. We are surrounded by light on a dark night, there's a pleasant breeze that carries the scent of the bay onto the boat, making us feel airy and light headed. The copious amounts of alcohol make us cheerful and forgetful.
I forget why it is that we have a line between us anyway.
"Yes. It's an amazing night. The Jeffersonian knows how to host a benefit in the right ways."
Booth grabs our drinks from the bar tender and hands mine to me, "To Hodgins and his enormous wealth; may he always be able to skip events such as these in return for the use of his assets."
I smile as we chink glasses, "To Hodgins."
We sip quietly at our drinks, feeling no need to fill the void with words. We've always had this comfort; this ability to sit in silence without the awkward tension. The wine Booth has chosen is sweet and cool and it slides easily down my throat. I feel myself gravitating more and more towards my partner, the influences of the alcohol making themselves known in my body, but at the same time, not over taking me so much that I don't know what I'm doing.
Booth looks at my close proximity and I notice that though his arm rests on the bar behind my body, he suppresses the urge to wrap it around me. Sometimes I wish he would ignore the small part of him that keeps him in check. I want him to make a move, but I want him to do it of his own volition.
He looks at me, I look at him and I shiver under the intensity of his gaze. He mistakes the shiver for the cold and removes his suit jacket, placing it over my shoulders, "No protest?"
I realise I haven't said anything in a while, just allowed myself to be completely encapsulated by his warm eyes, "Oh. Thank you. No. No protest tonight."
He notices my nervous clamour for words and pulls the jacket a little tighter around me. His scent wafts around my head, making me, if possible, more incoherent.
"Are you alright, Bones?"
His voice is husky, and worried. His scent is everywhere and the moment is intense, "Mmm I'm okay."
His eyes are still worried, "Bones, I'm going to take you home, okay? We've been here long enough, Cam won't mind."
He could have been telling me that the Berlin Wall had been re-erected and I would have agreed at that point, "Alright." But then he stands and the spell is broken. Suddenly I'm in control of my thoughts again, but I find myself not minding at all that Booth is taking me home.
Booth has been in my home before; he's in there nearly as often as I am, it makes it easy tonight when he drops me off. There needs to be no awkward moment of asking him in, he just follows me. I thank him for the jacket and slip it off, handing it to him, "I'm gonna go get changed."
I feel his eyes burning onto my back as I walk toward my room. Feeling emboldened by his gaze, I begin to unzip the dress as I walk away, knowing full well that the deep purple satin scoops nicely under the curve of my spine. I allow one of the thin shoulder straps to fall and actually hear a gasp from behind me as I step into my room and close the door. I know he wants me, I know I want him. I look at the sensible cotton pants and singlet sitting on my bed. I turn to my drawers and pull out some shorts instead.
He's making coffee when I return to him. His jacket is slumped over the back of a seat, his tie loose around his neck, his top button popped open.
I have never found him more irresistible. I can't help it, before I know it I'm standing behind him, my arms wrapped around his stomach. I feel him tense and he puts the kettle down softly and turns in my arms to face me. He says nothing, just wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
We stand like this for so long; just holding on; two broken people clinging to the thing that makes them whole.
"Are you okay, Bones?"
He's always there; always looking out for me. I turn my face up towards him, "We take it for granted; life, everything. We don't appreciate it enough. And in our line of work, we should know. We should know that it could all end tomorrow."
"We do know that, Bones. You live your life to the full, what are you scared of?"
I've made it this far, no turning back now, "I try Booth; I try to live my life to the full. I am open minded, I travel regularly. If something is wrong, I don't dwell on it. But there is one thing that I keep myself from. And Booth, I don't see why I should have to."
His grip tightens around me, "You should never be denied something you want, Bones. Never."
I pull back from him just a fraction, enough so that I can look in his eyes, "And neither should you."
I watch the realisation dawn on his face. The air is thick, burdened with our tension. I can feel it, pulling like an elastic band. The release will come, but we have to reach breaking point first. I remove my arms from his waist and bring them to his front, moving them achingly slow up his torso, over his broad chest and around his neck.
My eyes meet his again and the band breaks.
His lips crash against mine, our mouths moving perfectly against the other. His tongue tastes mine and I taste the sweet wine on his. I want more.
He reads my mind and swings us around, my back against the kitchen bench. He lifts me up, his hands against my bare thighs. I am grateful for those shorts. He is too by the feel of things as his hands rake up and down my legs, finally pulling them by the ankles around his back so he can lift me again.
Our eyes meet again in the break of our passion. A hundred and one thoughts race through our minds and yet only one thing is expressed in our locked gazes. Need. Need to be with each other always. His scent is all around me again, my head feels light and I bury myself against his large form. This man will be my undoing.
He carries me to my room and lays me gently on my bed. He kisses me. "How long?" he whispers. His body finds my curves and he lies down in front of me, one hand holding mine, one around my waist, our hips lining up.
I couldn't pin point a day if I tried. All I know is that I have loved this man since before I knew what love was.
He kisses me again and I am content.
We are both tired. I can feel his forehead sliding against mine, his head drooping from wanting sleep. His breathing deepens and slows. His arm pulls me tighter against him and we kiss once more. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. I smile and he smiles before falling to his slumber.
I stay awake a bit longer, watching him.
You know the deal. Hit the green button, be kind. :)