The words bubbled up inside him yet again.
He was leaning against Bones' office doorway, half-listening to her scientific ramble and simultaneously trying to quell his rising emotions. She wasn't looking at him, which helped; it was always so much harder when she was looking at him. In the last session they'd groaned through, Sweets had said that he noticed an increased tension in their partnership, and Bones had scoffed, saying that nothing had changed, that they were still focused on work, keeping things professional etc. etc.
Booth had shifted uneasily in his chair and perspired.
Because something had changed. Not recently, of course; Sweets hadn't noticed it until a week ago, but Booth had been agonizing about it for over a year. Bones was oblivious, naturally, swept up in her fantasy world of independent-and-successful-genius-who-can-be-perfectly-satisfied-with-meaningless-sex. It wasn't her fault, but it still irked Seeley that she hadn't noticed in all this time that he was acting more like a puppy dog following a master than a partner following the evidence.
At present they were working on a straightforward, corpse-explosion case that required very little thought, unfortunately, and so his mind was wandering to how deep and seductive her voice was, and how blue her eyes were, and how she was sitting on the edge of her chair and staring unblinkingly at the computer screen in front of her in the way she always did when she was about to find out something crucial to the case. These were the things that had first attracted him, although many little details had come to his attention over the past few months.
"Are you even listening, Booth?" She asked, looking up at him with those dangerously blue eyes and frowning.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Forensic mumbo-jumbo, blah, blah, blah, point me in the direction of who to question."
She sighed, but they had been working together long enough that he could sense an underlying amusement in her expression, "It was most likely Warren-the best friend. We found his blood at the crime scene and he has motive…he was sleeping with the victim's wife."
"Great, so, we're done?"
"I'm not really comfortable saying that until we have all the evidence together. Aren't I coming with you?"
He groaned inwardly; he didn't think he could handle another second of casual conversation with her, let alone a few hours.
"Not today, Bones, alright? I've got some things I need to mull over about the case and stuff."
"What do you have to mull over that I can't help with? Booth, wait!"
He had gotten about ten steps away from her office when he heard the angry clicking of her heels. He hung his head, silently cursing his steadily increasing heart rate. He didn't turn around, even when she called his name twice and quickened her pace to catch up with him. She tapped him on the arm in her usual, abrupt way, and it was then, just as he was whipping around to tell her to back off and let him have his space when the explosion shook the lab. It was only a matter of seconds before instinct propelled him to back Bones up against the wall with his hands protectively placed on either side of her, debris flying at them and screams resounding off the walls.
She was looking up at him curiously when the dust settled, like she was trying to figure out what it all meant, and he was dipping his head down a little bit further and capturing her lips with his before he could even think Stop.
It was strange, to be in this position and somehow know that he was in the Jeffersonian and that the whole squint squad was probably watching. It was strange because he knew this, and he didn't care. All he cared about was the agonizing second or two throughout which Bones did not kiss back. She stood there, trembling, his hands on either side of her, and he felt stupid and lovesick. He had the sinking feeling that he'd just ruined everything-their whole partnership-and that she'd never trust him in the same way again.
Then, slowly, tentatively, she moved beneath him, pressing slightly, carefully. He could have fallen in love with her all over again because of that kiss, and he would have, too, if he weren't already head-over-heels. It was soft, their lips hovering over each other, barely touching. It was perfect.
When he finally pulled away, the first thing he noticed was Angela, her hair mussed and her clothing torn, standing two feet away from them with her mouth wide open and a dazed look on her face. Then she cracked a knowing smile and pointed a finger at the two of them.
"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Hodgins owes me a fifty."
He frowned, still feeling the spark of her lips on his.
"Is everyone okay?" he called out, ignoring Angela's remark. Columns of smoke rose from piles of ruined equipment, and a layer of dust and ash was settling onto every available surface.
"It was Hodgins and Zack," an annoyed looking Cam replied, appearing out of the smoke, "Another stupid experiment. They better pray no one's dead…. I swear, the next time they pull something like this they're gone. Have you seen Doctor Brennan?"
Booth shifted uncomfortably and stepped aside, revealing an extremely baffled forensic anthropologist. Cam limped over to them, missing a shoe.
"Well, I guess I'd better get back to the office to make some calls," Booth said, avoiding Bones' eyes and starting to walk away, "I still need to check up on that one guy's alibi…"
He turned around when he was almost to the door of the Jeffersonian because he felt her eyes burning the back of his neck. She was giving him a strange, confused look and had her fingers up to her lips. He felt his knees buckle at her childlike confusion, so he turned away from her and continued out the door.
Author's Note: Alright, so this is my first story in forever. Be kind!