I have mixed personal feelings about the season three finale of Bones, but one thing that I think makes up for some of the things I don't love is the moment when Brennan busts into Booth's bathroom. Not the beer helmet or the comic, or the towel talk (or even the bouncy lighthearted musical score for the scene), but just...the look of fury in Brennan's eyes when she challenges Booth that he doesn't have any concern for her. That she is admitting that she WANTS him to have a concern for her is huge. When Booth stands up, well...his shoulders are huge, haha. But I also love the vulnerability in his face when he sits back down and asks her what she wants him to have done. When she plays if off that he should find out the truth if HE wants to know, well...that's just another example of proof that she was emotionally affected by his absence. This story is sort of about that, but also serves as a mirror to that scene. What would make Booth so upset that he would barge into her bathroom, today, i asked myself.
Well, only one thing came to mind, and that was Brennan in danger.
This one is kind of dark, as far as it starts out kind of lighthearted, but spirals into anger and hurt between the two of them. It ends well, though. I promise :)
"Hey, hey, hey, Bones!" Booth's cheerful voice greeted Brennan when she answered the phone. "How's my favorite forensic anthropologist?"
"Hi Booth" Brennan rolled her eyes at his tone, but couldn't prevent the smile that curved up on her lips as she moved from the lab platform to her office for privacy. "How is your conference?"
"What?" Booth chuckled. "You're not going to tell me that you're my only forensic anthropologist? Jeez, Bones" he joked. "I totally set that joke up for you, and nothing…"
"Oh" she winced. "Sorry. Should we try again?"
"No, no" she could hear the smile in his voice. "We'll get it next time. My conference was boring, but I guess that's how most of those things are, right?"
"Well, no, Booth. I find that any lectures I might give are full of fascinating information." When Booth didn't reply, she sighed. "Was that a joke, too?"
Booth chuckled again. "No, Bones…not a joke. But hey…I'm just now getting to my hotel room, kicking back. Ah…this is the good life."
Brennan could just imagine him sitting on the hotel bed. Even though she hadn't ever actually seen him do this, she imagined he would cradle the phone with his ear and shoulder and reach up with one hand to loosen his tie, the other hand taking off one shoe and then the other. She smiled, but also felt warm inside at the image. "So are you going to do it?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Yeah, I think so" he answered, and now she imagined him laying back against the pillows and bedspread, his white dress shirt a contrast to whatever garish pattern the hotel had picked out. His shoulders would take up an entire pillow's worth, but in her mind, she imagined that Booth was the type to lay right down the middle of a bed. She blinked rapidly as she realized he was explaining the FBI's new intern program. Booth had been asked to take on some responsibility, and she'd encouraged him to do so.
"Well, I think that seems very practical, Booth" she bit her bottom lip to stave off any more images of Booth in his hotel bed. Or Booth in any bed, for that matter. "What are you doing for the rest of the night?"
"Ah…" she heard him sigh. "That's why I called you. I'm going to get some food, and of course, I need to know…what did you eat today, Bones?"
Brennan frowned, and the pause was enough for Booth to sputter. "I knew it, Bones! You didn't eat anything today, did you! You see, this is what I'm talking about. This is why you need me around. I have to take care of you. Otherwise you are going to waste away to nothing, and I'll be left with the bones of my favorite forensic anthropologist."
"Booth, that's hardly…Oh…I mean, I'm the only forensic anthropologist you know."
"Ah, that's my girl" Booth laughed. "Good job, Bones. Now, get out of the office and go eat something, okay?"
Brennan shook her head. "Okay, okay. I'll see you later this weekend."
"Sure" Booth agreed. "I come back tomorrow night, so maybe we can just meet for breakfast the next day. What do you say?"
"I say that sounds like a good plan" Brennan nodded. "But now, I'm terribly busy, and I must go."
"Jeez, Bones. Terribly busy, hmmm? Too busy to talk to your old partner, is that it? I'm gone for three days, and already, I'm forgotten."
"Not forgotten, Booth. But I have to get something to eat. Apparently if I don't, I'll wither away to nothingness."
With that, she closed her phone, pleased to have gotten in the last word. That was why she smiled the entire way to the diner. Not because she was going to see Booth in less than 36 hours.
The next morning…
"Brennan" she answered her phone, pulling into traffic. "No, he's not. Actually, he's--"
When the dispatcher didn't even hear her reply and just continued on with the coordinates for the location of a killer they'd been on the lookout for…months they'd been searching for this guy, Brennan closed her phone and turned around at the nearest exit.
She quickly made her way to the scene, and when she pulled up, there were two dark cars already in the parking lot. Brennan set the safety on her gun and exited her car, moving as stealthily as she could, trying to remember her surroundings.
What happened next was a blur as someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side. Gunfire crossed in the open air, and Brennan cried out as she landed on the hard surface of the parking lot.
Booth leaned against the doorway to the lobby of his hotel, dialing his voicemail. Once he keyed in his password, he listened to a message from his cable company, 'thanking him' for his recent payment. Delete.
But then, he received a text, and the words from Charlie made his blood boil.
"At crime scene. Dr. Brennan hurt. Non-emergency."
He didn't say anything to anyone except to go to the front hotel desk. He flashed his badge. "225. Send my stuff to the J. Edgar Hoover building" before he rushed out the door to his SUV.
The night before, he'd recommended to Bones that they meet for breakfast the next morning, but damned if Booth was going to see another fucking human being before he laid eyes on his partner.
"Charlie" he barked into his phone, waiting for the cell to dial itself.
"Yeah" the man answered a second too long later.
There was a pause, and then… "Hey, man. She's good. Everything's okay. She told us not to tell you she was hurt, but…I just didn't think that seemed right."
"Was there gunplay?"
Another pause. "Yeah, but…really, it's not…"
Booth didn't listen anymore and didn't answer, just snapped his phone shut and tossed it to the passenger seat.
Booth didn't bother with the elevator; it was way too passive for his current mood. Instead, he bounded the steps, two at a time, then stood outside her door, taking in a deep breath before knocking.
He knew she was in there. Her car was here; she was here. She was NOT going to shut him out.
Knocking again, he waited, but grew impatient, and he pounded this time. "Open UP, Bones. I know you're in there!" Again he pounded, but when he didn't get an answer, he jimmied the lock with his ID card.
"Bones!" he shouted when he entered. "Where are you?"
Just seeing her apartment, the way she treated these ancient 'relics' with such care when she obviously didn't have the same concern for herself raised his anger another notch. "BONES!"
"Booth?" Her voice came from the back, and he followed, not pausing even as his mind recognized the sound of water running.
His fists clenched in pure rage as he stormed through the bathroom door. 'You know, Bones, you've got a lot of nerve. You could have been killed, you know that, right?"
"Booth, what are you talking about?" The sound of her voice was muffled by the splash of water against tile. "And what are you doing here?"
"I'm talking about YOU going to a crime scene without me. I'm talking about you taking on WAY more than you can handle, Bones. You think you can protect yourself?' He began pacing the small confines of her bathroom, the stuffy air doing nothing to improve his mood.
"I'm pretty sure I managed just fine." By now her voice also sounded plenty angry and the way the water was splashing on the tile with more force indicated she was getting annoyed. "Besides…what would you have done? You were out of town. It's not like it was my first shootout, either. You being there wouldn't have made any difference."
Booth growled. "You are not FBI. You should not have been there."
The shower curtain flew back. "I got a call! What was I supposed to do, stay in the lab?"
"YES!" he shouted. "Where you BELONG!"
Brennan's eyes widened with hurt, but in the moment it took for her gaze to grow cold, Booth realized she was standing front of him, totally nude, and totally…in the shower. Her bathroom. Her shower.
If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have realized it was no surprise that she wasn't making any effort to cover her body. She'd never once been backward in her sexuality.
But he wasn't thinking about any of that. All he could see was that she used toenail polish. It was the same dark rose color of her nipples, and his entire being was focused on tracking droplets of water from her breasts to her toes. Once they'd reach the shower floor, he'd blink and the thought that it couldn't possibly be the exact same color would cause his eyes to stray back to her breasts where he'd realize that in fact it was very possible, and the evidence was currently right in front of him. All sounds were centered on the rush of water from the showerhead, and Booth forced himself to blink and look at her face. Her impassive response unnerved him. He would have expected her to be annoyed or maybe even embarrassed. Hell, he would have even taken amused, in that superior way she had sometimes.
But nothing prepared him for the way she just waited for him to take some action. When he didn't, she lifted her hands and smoothed them over her hair once more, and Booth watched as her nipples tightened and her stomach muscles contracted. His gaze centered on the shadowy center between her thighs and he'd never felt more like a man than at that moment. His penis stirred in contrast to her pure femininity, and in his mind he knew this was wrong; it was against everything he'd ever imagined when he'd thought about seeing her naked. It wasn't planned or romantic. It was voyeurism, even if she wasn't doing a thing to stop it.
His lips parted to say something, anything, but nothing came out as she turned and bent over slightly to shut off the water. He might have groaned, but he wasn't sure because she'd turned back around and stepped out of the shower. His heavy coat felt heavier, his clothes were too constricting, hell…his skin felt two sizes too tight as she stepped past him and walked into her bedroom.
In all the years he'd known her, Booth had never once even been back in her bedroom. But now, he'd basically barged in to her private bathroom and was leaning against the doorway between the two rooms. He could see his face in the bathroom mirror, despite the slight fog there, and he looked ragged. And wet and disheveled. And not only had he busted into her apartment, he'd yelled at her.
His throat began to close up, even as his fists clenched and unclenched.
But nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him when he turned around.
She was still naked, standing in front of the full length mirror near her dresser. Her head was tilted to the side, and she was running a comb through her dark hair. In the mirror, he could see all of the front of her body, head to toe, and from where he stood, he saw her back, the long, straight line of her spine, curving into her hips. Down her thighs to those legs. The legs he'd let himself dream about when it was really late at night and he was really lonely.
Mother of mercy…
Somehow his eyes managed to rise high enough to meet her reflection in the mirror. Booth felt her clear gaze like a sock to the gut, but it didn't stop him from taking a step forward. Once he did, he froze, unsure of what to do next. But she didn't look away, she just kept combing her hair, waiting for him to say or do something. She was still impassive, and for some reason that totally pissed him off.
He swallowed hard and stepped closer to her. "Look, Bones…" he set out to apologize and then leave. But then he saw them.
Cold, angry bruises on her arm. "Son of a bitch, Bones" he cursed, and grabbed her elbow, whirling her around to face him. "What happened?"
Brennan wrenched her arm from his grasp, her eyes finally flashing. "Don't worry about it, Booth. After all, I'll be in the lab from now on, so it's nothing."
"Bones…" he growled, watching her with hawk eyes as she moved around him to her closet. She pulled down a short silk robe and wrapped it around her body, the pale pink fabric a mockery of the red hot passion and emotion flowing between them. They were both furious, he a dark, brooding anger, and she an intensely blue flame of fury.
When she tried to step around him again, he'd had enough. "Look." He grabbed both of her shoulders and clenched, but then he was flat on his back, and she'd pinned his wrists to his sides. "Holy shit, Bones!" he gasped.
Too stunned to react, his chest heaved as she leaned over. "Don't come into my apartment and grab me. No one gets to do that."
Now fully in control of his reflexes, he knocked her knees open and lunged forward, disrupting her center of balance until she was flattened beneath him, her flimsy robe riding up against her hips. He was beyond turned on and knew for sure that she could tell. It would impossible not to notice his hard-on centered right between her legs. But Booth didn't think about that, and only concentrated on remaining on top, balancing his own gravity. "I'm not 'no one', Bones…" he bit off her name. "And I don't think you quite know what it does to me to know that you, my partner" he hissed, just in case she'd forgotten, "were in danger. Seeing you with bruises…you don't know what that does to me, Bones. You do not even fucking know. You don't know what it's like to think the worst, to wonder--"
Furious, she somehow, despite his strength, discovered a weakness and with strangled cry of resentment, she flipped and straddled him, pressing down on his shoulders. "I don't know? I don't fucking know? How about a fucking bullet to your fucking chest, Booth?!? Do you think that did nothing to me?"
"How the hell would I know?" he shouted. "You didn't even TALK to me about that. You just punched me in the face, if you recall."
"What was I supposed to do? I thought you were dead!" Her eyes were bright and she grabbed his hair at the back of his neck, pulling until her eyes were focused on his. "Dead. I felt like I'd died, too. But I had no one to talk to about it. The only person I wanted to talk to about it was you, and you were gone. So don't tell me what it feels like to WONDER what it would be like. I KNOW what it's like." she hissed.
It was a moment they should have dealt with years ago, and Booth couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything except the one thing he'd planned on doing that day. The one thought he'd had in his mind when he'd stood at his own gravesite and saw her standing there. He'd almost forgotten his mission because she'd looked so gorgeous, and all he'd wanted to do was…
Brennan gasped as he arched up and kissed her mouth with his. For a moment, she sank onto him, years of desire making it impossible for her body and mind to register that she was furious with him. And oh, he tasted so good. So amazing, just like she knew he would. As good of a man as he was, she'd suspected that underneath all of that, he was slightly dangerous, and the proof of that was in the way he was licking the inside of her lip, rubbing his tongue against hers without permission. His hands were on her back and then her shoulders, then her arms, then…
"Ah!" she rocked back in pain when he grasped her arms. The bruises there were tender, and immediately, she remembered why they were fighting. Scrambling off of him, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "No. Don't…"
But he was just as quick as she was, standing up as well. It was too much for her, and she turned away from him. But that didn't do her any good, because she was back where she started, standing in front of her mirror.
The sight was enough to take her breath away. Her hair was drying and curling, nearly wild around her face. Her robe had come untied and was hanging from her body, covering practically nothing. Her chest was flushed, a contrast to her stomach and legs.
And Booth was standing behind her, looming in his dark coat and pants, his darker hair messy from her hands. His jaw was set and his hands were in fists at his side. Almost in slow motion, she watched as he reached up from behind her and gently, so gently it made her thighs quiver, began to lower her robe from her shoulders. The silk slid down her back, leaving a chill behind. Every skin cell she couldn't see was tuned to what she could see was so close to her, Booth's rough hands and scraping clothing.
"Bones…" he whispered. He leaned over her shoulder and rested his lips against the side of her neck, not kissing as much as just inhaling a breath. Brennan couldn't take her eyes away, and her knees practically buckled from the image. Booth's hands came up under her arms and rested where her waist was smallest. The sight of his long fingers stretching across her pale skin caused her breasts to tighten, her nipples expanding toward their reflection. Dangerous.
But his hands remained where they were as his lips began to skate over her skin, not kissing, just marking territory. Over her neck and shoulders, very gently down her arms. The friction in the air between her softly showered skin and his rough evening beard caused goosebumps all over her body. Her lips parted when he pressed open mouthed kisses over the bruises on her arms. "Bones…" he whispered again. "Baby…"
The desperate endearment, one that would offend in any other circumstance now made her grasp for him. Her hands reached back and clasped onto his thighs, even as her back settled against his chest. He inched forward, and she watched in the mirror as he seemed to be that much bigger, that much more.
Booth slid her damp locks over one shoulder and pressed kisses over her back and neck. Brennan arched to accommodate him, but never closed her eyes. When his fingers tightened against her waist, her hips rocked forward, the juncture feeling empty and warm. Under her hands, his own thighs and hips followed her movement, and she felt the press of his erection against her lower back, right where his hand had landed many times.
Suddenly overcome with a need to see him as much as he was seeing her, she turned in his arms. "Clothes. Off."
While Booth tangled with his shirt buttons, Brennan dropped her hands to his waist to release his buckle, satisfied when his pants fell to the floor. Eager to grasp his hard length in her palms, she skimmed her fingernails over the edge of his boxers, enjoying the sweet hiss of his breath at her touch.
But she grew distracted by the expanse of his chest, now bare in front of her. Still feeling the rushes of adrenaline, she sank her fingernails in his shoulders and pressed her body against his, burying her face in his neck. "Booth…"
Her teeth nipped at the strong cords there, and he arched back, letting out an almost animalistic growl.
With sure hands, he cupped her ass and hitched her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Those long legs were made for wrapping around his hips as he fell to his knees, taking her with him. Soon, she was laid out under him again, and he pushed his hands to the insides of her thighs, pressing them to the floor, pinning his chest against her heat, the feel of her so smooth and wet and fucking blistering against his skin. She loved the pressure, and still fought against his domination. But she didn't fight hard, and he knew she liked his control. She wanted him. She wanted him in control so she could lose it.
And she was tossing her head back and forth, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. "Booth…" she gasped again, as his index fingers began to trace the inner lines of her sex.
Her own hands ripped at his boxers, and he paused long enough to move them down his hips, groaning her name as she wrapped those long methodical fingers around his cock. "Bones, if you're not ready to get fucked by me, then you'd better let go, because I'm this close to exploding, and I'll be damned if I'm not buried in you to the hilt when that happens."
Instead of letting go, she just squeezed him tighter, spread her legs wider, and bit his neck.
"Fuck me" she commanded, leaving him with doubt as to his own control of the situation. But there was an inherent trust to being out of control together, with her.
"Hang on." He grabbed her hips and centered the aching tip of his cock right at her opening. And as he slid into her, he simultaneously rolled over onto his back so that when she ended up on top, she sank down onto him.
"AAAHHH!!!! BOOTH!" her cry of passion rang in the room, her eyes wide with impressed surprise. Her pussy clenched him so hard, he thought maybe she had come. But then it relaxed between them, and he knew she was right on the edge.
Her face grew almost angry as she began to ride the hell out of him. He couldn't remember a time when she'd been more beautiful than this moment, with her taking her pleasure from him.
With no warning, he thrust his thumb between her legs, rubbing against her clit. Her eyes slid shut and then flew open, lifting to the ceiling in agonized ecstasy. "Say it" he commanded, and she looked down to him.
Her cheeks grew ruddy, and her eyes flashed. "I hated you. I hated you when you died. I hated you for leaving me".
Booth began to rock his hips up and down in time with her circular motions. When she collapsed onto him and began to practically shake with need, he fucked her from below, the press of her breasts against his chest the sexiest thing he'd ever felt. "I know you did, baby. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry about that. I should have told you."
"No!'she insisted. "I know I acted like I was mad about that, and I was kind of hurt" her fingers dug into his arms. "But I was more upset that you'd died. Booth…I couldn't…I was…"
She began to thrust onto him, her head falling back in agonized pleasure as she took it out on him, all the pain he'd caused her.
His head rolled to the side and he opened eyes he didn't even know he'd closed. "Oh, fuck. Bones…wait. Please, Bones, baby. Just…wait a minute."
She keened in response and pressed her hands to his chest, leaning back, a gorgeous display of a woman thoroughly mussed. "What?"
With a tenderness that was new to the moment, he leaned forward and then worked to settle on top of her, shifting their bodies to a new position.
Brennan turned as he asked and saw what he'd seen, their complete reflection in her mirror. Booth rose up on his hands and knees and they both watched as he plunged into her. She was having the most erotic sex of her life with Seeley Booth. His cock was dark and almost as angry looking as he'd been when she'd yanked back her shower curtain. And his eyes were narrowed in concentration.
Booth admired the sweet slope of her breasts and the perfect curve of her hips. He'd always known it could be like this. In his darkest fantasies, moans and whimpers would come from that smart mouth and she'd beg him to take her harder as they rocked together. Her breasts would be perfect handfuls with beautiful nipples he would suck and nip at until she called his name.
After a few more deep thrusts, Brennan began to rock up to meet him, and the sight of their mutual rhythm was more than she could take. "No, Booth…"
She grasped his face and made him look into her eyes. "Look at me. Look…" She rocked up once more and flipped them again until his hard body was sprawled under hers. "I need to see your face."
Booth's eyes locked with hers and then softened with an emotion that Brennan couldn't identify but felt resonate throughout her whole body.
"I'm going to come, Booth" she told him, and he nodded, pressing his hands to her hips. Gently, she began to rock, the slick slide of his hard cock out of her so intense combined with the strain of her thighs and the way his slide back in landed at the end of her every time. Soon her rhythm picked up speed and she panted in time with the clenching of her walls around his thick shaft. "Booth. Booth. Booth. Booth. Booth. Booth. Booth…Booth, Booth, Booth…"
"Come on, Bones" he encouraged, his voice scratchy from adrenaline. "Come for me."
"Yes." She sank down as far as she could go, impaling herself on his body. Her hands reached behind her, and her upper body was displayed for him to see. He saw the first quiver on her clit, a slight tremble that settled against the tip of his cock buried right behind it. Then her stomach clenched, and Booth's eyes went higher as he watched her orgasm roll over her. Her breasts swelled, her nipples so sweet and inviting, and her neck flushed, long and gorgeous. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips parted, her eyes…her eyes.
No word on the planet could describe the way she was looking at him. In a rush, all of her reactions moved down the way they'd come, and centered around him as she came. The tightest, warmest, sexiest, wettest sheath he'd ever known compressed around him, and just feeling her come was better than any orgasm he'd ever had.
"Booth…" she fell forward, once again pressing her face to the skin of his neck. "I need you to come. Please come. I need you to. I need…you. I need you."
Over and over she chanted it. "I need you. I need you, Booth."
And he was powerless to resist it, because he needed her as much, if not more. "Bones, baby." He gritted between his teeth as he rolled them over once again, gaining the leverage he needed to pound into her. "Bones, I need you. I need you, baby."
Just as he was about to explode, he froze, a moment of fear clenching around his heart. But in her eyes, he saw that she was real, this was really happening. She really did need him as much as he needed her. Oh, he needed her, and with a harsh groan, he collapsed against her, burying his face in her hair and coming so hard he wondered if he was going to live.
Brennan had never been crushed by a man the way Booth was crushing her now. She could hardly breathe, but felt no fear as his hips thrust into hers like a piston. His breath was hot against her neck, a sharp contrast to the damp ends of her hair against her shoulders. He came deep, so deep within her, and she felt her thighs open up even further in feminine desire. It was uncontrollable, her reaction to him and his body. But in his body, she felt that he needed her, as much as she needed him.
His breath began to even out, even as his penis continued to twitch inside of her. With a soft grunt, he wrapped his arms around her and used his last vestige of strength to roll them over one last time. She let her thighs drape over his, and her lips opened against his neck, rubbing gently. Booth's chest expanded against hers as they inhaled and exhaled in unison. A trickle of sweat cooled on her now exposed back and Brennan shivered, amazed that the room could feel cool when they were so hot.
Their eyes met in satiated vulnerability, nothing either one had ever experienced. The emotions and reality of the day, combined with a thousand other days that could have ended just like this caught up with them, and they grasped one another in a fierce hug, each murmuring sounds of peace to the other, hands soothing, lips caressing. It wasn't sex, it was protection and comfort and years of desperately needing to be able to express all of the passion that came with a partnership.
After a few minutes, Booth moaned and then pressed his hands to the carpet by his hips. With a clenching of his ab muscles, he rocked backward, scooting them closer to her bed. "Ah, Bones."
She wrapped her arms around his waist and stood up when he did, falling back with him onto her bed. He settled one firm thigh between her legs and began to nibble at the skin of her neck. "I'm sorry I said you belong in the lab" he apologized, moving his lips to the skin of her shoulder. "You don't belong in the lab. You belong with me. I belong with you."
Brennan arched beneath him and reached below her for her comforter's hemline. Rocking upward a few times, she managed to push the offending blanket down past their hips, leaving her bare back against cool sheets. She covered their bodies with the light sheet as they both worked to kick the bedspread away from them.
Booth stroked her thighs and belly and sex and rubbed his chest against hers until she relaxed into a deep orgasm, one that rumbled through her body like dark thunder. She couldn't keep her eyes open, and sank deeper into the mattress, the last memory of the evening the press of his body against her back as he cradled her in his arms.
And it was the first memory of the new morning.
See you next hour for "Pink"