This was Dragonistanny's (i hope i spelled that right) request which I slowed down my other stories for. It will be updated ASAP, but we all know in my world that can go really slowly. Lurve you all.
The skull splitting headache was what roused her to her senses at first. Her dulled reflexes slowly made her hand come up to cover her eyes from the rising sun that streamed through the curtains. Washington DC outside was buzzing and teaming with the lives of it's citizens going about their days. She, however, simply wanted to die at this moment.
It wasn't just the fact that Dr. Temperance Brennan was suffering from what was probably considered the worst hangover ever, she couldn't remember how she'd obtained said hangover.
Brennan groaned and buried her face further into the pillow. Memories of Hodgins drink-all-day-party-all-night bash were coming to her in short, badly cut little scenes. Everyone from the lab had been there including Booth; she knew that much. After that, all that was clear to her were Mai Tais, loud music, and miscellaneous shapes and colors.
Trying to push herself up, Brennan's fingers came into contact with something she groggily recognized as paper. The question that would've come to mind had she not been impaired was why there was a piece of paper in her bed, but her brain wasn't responding well to anything. She unfolded it and struggled to adjust her eyes to the four simple words that were written on the page.
We need to talk.
The script handwriting she'd been reading for years was instantly identified in her sluggish gray matter as her partner's. She recoiled, dropping the slip as though it were on fire. Brennan scrubbed her eyes and looked across the bed, finding that the other side was unruly; the tell-tale signs that someone had slept there. Terror rose in her stomach as she quickly shuffled throughout the few possibilities that were there.
Brennan got herself moving as fast as her lagging body would allow her without getting sick. Whatever had happened last night needed to be brought to the light through the fog of alcohol.
* * *
Booth sat patiently in his partner's office; hung over and heavy headed. He laid down on the couch as he took a deep drink of the coffee in the travel mug he'd brought. There wasn't a doubt in the FBI agent's mind that the good doctor wouldn't remember what had happened the previous night today. Unfortunately, he hadn't been so plastered as to black out, but just enough to agree to the one, singular thing that could effectively ruin their relationship.
Brennan walked into her office, squinting against the harshness of the fluorescent lights. Like usual, she didn't see Booth until she turned around to leave for the forensic platform, but this time was different. It was almost as though she could feel his gaze on her.
She sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch, avoiding eye contact for as long as possible.
"What do you remember?" Booth tried to find a way to start the inevitable conversation.
"Mai Tais. You?" she picked at her fingernails.
"Most of it." he whispered quietly.
"How were you in my apartment last night." she looked into his eyes for the first time. "I mean…did we…?" she trailed off.
Booth sat up slowly and reached across the coffee table to her. Brennan's first instinct was to pull back, but was curious as to where this was going. She held out the hand he asked for and he enveloped it in both of his own.
"You tell me." he mumbled so low it was barely audible.
In that simple, inanimate touch, so much was made clear so fast.
She'd been wanting him all night, every night for the last four years. He kissed her warm skin softly for several minutes until she'd kicked it up. Her hands couldn't move fast enough to touch all of him. Ripping his shirt at the shoulder, she had her first touch of his taut body.
Brennan slipped her hand out from between his, knowing now what he'd been telling her. "I'm sorry I ruined your shirt.
"I'm not worried about it. How does this change us is what I'm thinking about right now." Booth's voiced was edged with passion.
"I…I'm not sure." Brennan honestly responded. She'd never not known about one of her sexual experiences before, and was certain she'd never ever forgotten it if it involved her partner of four years. "What do you think we should do?"
"It all depends on what we want to make of this." he sounded weakly hopeful.
"Booth…do you want something from this situation?" Brennan had to ask.
"Do you?" he countered.
She clammed up, not sure of where to take the conversation next. "Well…we might be able to…um…try to have things go back to normal?" the statement wasn't in her voice.
"Is that a question?" he asked rhetorically as she flushed a deep red. "Do you want things to go back to the way they were before?"
"I don't know!" she had an IQ of Einstein and couldn't understand the private war going on inside herself with her emotions and her mind. Brennan would've really appreciated an explanation of the deep, personal connection that she felt towards the man in front of her that was essentially asking her for a relationship. If asked, Angela would say that this feeling was 'love'. Being as she herself knew little about the topic, she'd ignore her and go about examining a skeleton. This time, there wasn't an escape handy or an excuse to get her out of the awkwardness that all but radiated around them.
"Well, let's try this some way you'll understand it." an idea sprang into Booth slow brain.
"And what exactly would that be?" she didn't meet his eyes.
"Experiment. You know…"
"Like…a date?" she asked.
"Yeah. You know, I'll wine and dine you and see if anything comes up." Booth said quietly.
"Experiment?" she asked it as though the word was foreign.
"Something you're familiar with. How about it?" Booth asked with a Cheshire Cat smile.
"Well…I guess in the name of science, we could give it a shot." she said reluctantly and still slightly impaired from being hung over.
"Fine, I'll pick you up at eight than." Booth said merrily and walked out.
What do you think so far? Reviews, wether my own ideas or not, are always appreciated.