All The Rest
AN: Okay, I have had a horrible case of writer's block recently and I'm back. At least writing back, I don't know if it's any good… Curse me and my self doubt. I so loved the Christmas episode.. Poor horny Booth undressed for evidence. ;] This is the companion piece to " Little Things" which you don't need to read for it to make sense, but I do think you should read them together. Enjoy.
The tree outside Booth's window had swayed in the frigid winter air, and the resulting clank as it tapped the window had roused him. Truth be told he had always loved this time of day, somewhere around 2 AM when the world was dead and time was irrelevant. As a soldier it had been the calm before the storm, as a child the only place where he had no thoughts of his father's cold treatment. Nothing mattered but to stay warm and succumb again to the numb pleasure of sleep.
It only served him more kindly this time of night with someone beside him. On top of him to be precise. Bones, for no reasons other than to stay warm, snuggled on his chest. He grinned and looked down at her. As many times as he'd seen the sight, he always had to smirk at her sleepwear; his sweatpants and sweatshirt that she had taken a liking to.
She also seemed accustomed to using him as a mattress, burying her feet under his calves to keep them warm, and drooling onto his t shirt collar.
He loved her chosen sleeping position more than anything. He knew Temperance Brennan wasn't one for sharing personal space. She was not one to sleep in someone's pajamas; she'd likely list the habit among door opening and other such 'insulting' displays of ownership. This radical feminist, this educated and brilliant woman drew creature comforts from him, and he would be a fool to not see the significance in that.
Sometimes he took pride knowing how good they were, others he ignored all the factors like trust and companionship. He knew the important foundations were there and would stay. So many other things were now vital to him; the pale freckles she had on her shoulders, the wry smiles, and the nose twitch that accompanied every mumble she gave in slumber. They had something deep; profound. At moments late in the night he adds up all the reasons, all the rest of her that makes him feel so lucky.
AN: Reviews are the writing juice of …well writers. I can't buy writer's juice at Wal-Mart! Please help! Wow… That was dorky. I wonder if writing juice would taste good? Can anyone tell that I'm really tired right now?;]