At first, Booth thought he was dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time Bones appeared in his bedroom in one of his dreams. Although, when his subconscious was in charge, she was usually naked and pressed up against him, not hovering in the doorway calling out his name hesitantly.
The second time she said his name, he woke up, at least partly. "Bones?" he mumbled, opening his eyes. She was standing beside his bed looking solid and clothed and very real. Not dream-like at all. Confusion, more than anything, urged him the rest of the way into consciousness. "Bones! What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
He struggled to kick the sheets away from his body as he stood up, peering at her in the dim light. "Bones?" he queried again when she didn't say anything.
"I'm fine, Booth."
He looked her up and down as if to reassure himself that this was true, before letting his gaze rest on her face. She looked tired and as confused as he felt. They were both silent for a long time. "Um, Bones?"
"Why are you in my bedroom?"
She opened her mouth to reply, but after a moment, closed it again. She crossed her arms and looked at the ground, letting out a sigh that sounded almost annoyed. "I don't know," she finally said. "I don't know what I'm doing here."
"Okay," he said gently, sensing her agitation. "Do you want to…" He trailed off. This felt so surreal. Bones was in his bedroom. At three o'clock in the morning. He had fantasized about this so many times. Somehow, he had imagined it differently. "Do you want a drink? Some coffee?"
He began to move past her toward the door but her voice stopped him. "I think…I don't want you to move on."
He turned around. "What?"
"I think I don't want you to move on," she said again, this time with more conviction. "After you drove me home, I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't. I had this…this feeling. It was like someone was squeezing my heart." She frowned. "It was very unpleasant. And I just kept thinking…" She trailed off and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not making any sense."
He smiled at her. "No, you're making perfect sense actually."
"But it's not rational. None of this is rational. And I'm so…I'm so confused." She shook her head as frustrated tears filled her eyes. "I don't know how to let you in," she admitted softly. "I don't know how to change."
He took a step forward and reached for her, but she moved out of his reach, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. "Bones, come here," he told her.
Normally, she would've balked at the note of command in his voice, given him a long lecture about how he had no right to tell her what to do. But tonight, she didn't. She didn't go to him, but she did uncross her arms and lean into him as he closed the space between them. She did rest her hands against his chest as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. They stood like that for a long time, in the shaft of light shining dimly from the hallway. The seconds ticked by and she gradually relaxed against him. She moved her head from his shoulder to the center of his chest, resting it just under his chin. He could feel her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, holding it loosely in her hands. Then, in a moment of complete trust, she tucked her arms underneath her chest and leaned against him, letting him support her entire body weight. If he moved, she would fall, and yet she didn't care. In that moment, she allowed herself the luxury of depending on him. In that moment, she was his.
Booth didn't know who began to move toward the bed first, but suddenly, he was pulling back the covers and she was lying down in his bed. As she rested her head against a pillow that smelled like him, she glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure he was following suit. He was, of course. He eased himself onto the mattress beside her, carefully leaving a full three inches between their bodies. To his surprise, however, she almost immediately scooted back against him, giving him permission to eliminate the remaining space between them. He didn't need any more invitation than that. He slipped one arm underneath her and draped the other over her stomach, tugging her body backwards until her back was pressed flush against his chest. He rested his head in the curve of her neck and heard a soft sigh escape her as his lips brushed against her shoulder. "Night, Bones," he murmured.
Booth woke up before his alarm clock and shut it off before it could wake up Brennan. He didn't want it to be morning. He didn't want her to have an excuse to leave. He still couldn't believe she was here. In his bed, in his arms. I don't want you to move on. It wasn't exactly an admission of love, but it might be as close as he would get with her.
Beside him, Brennan sighed softly in her sleep and Booth couldn't help but grin. I don't want you to move on. Looking at her now, as she scrunched up her nose in the most adorable way and pressed closer to him, he couldn't imagine ever moving on. He didn't know how he ever could. Unable to resist, (he was no saint), he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead. Even though he tried not to disturb her, the feeling of his lips against her skin, no matter how soft, was enough to lift her out of sleep. In that transition into consciousness, she turned in his arms and yawned, stretching her body against his. As she pressed her breasts to his chest, he tried to stifle a moan but didn't quite succeed and suddenly she was wide awake.
"Booth," she said, her voice startled and little bit too loud.
"Bones," he echoed, trying to gage her reaction and hoping to God she wouldn't freak out.
She was still for a moment, too still, and then she pulled away abruptly. She leapt off the mattress and stood on the other side of the bed from him. They were motionless and silent for a minute, each regarding the other cautiously and then she declared that she had to go. She practically ran from the room and he was just able to catch up to her at the front door. "Bones, wait," he said, hurrying over to where she was standing, hand on the doorknob, poised for a quick escape.
"Last night was a mistake, Booth," she said quickly before he could get a word in.
"But nothing happened," he said.
"I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have…" Let you in.
Booth frowned. "You shouldn't have what?"
"Come over. I wasn't thinking clearly. I wasn't being rational. I—" Put my heart in overdrive.
"I have to go."
"Please don't run away." His voice was pleading.
"I'm not running away," she said. "I'm going to work."
"I have to go," she said again, and then she was gone.
Brennan was hunched over a skeleton when Booth strode into the Jeffersonian later that morning. She didn't look up when he called out to her from the doorway. She didn't acknowledge his presence when he swiped his card and jogged onto the platform. She didn't even do her annoyed, pissy eye roll when he leaned over her shoulder, pretending to have an interest in the boring old bone she was inspecting. Instead, she simply said, "Booth, could you please move?"
He sighed. Loudly. "Bones, I need to talk to you."
"You're always working."
"I enjoy working."
"Bones, could you at least look at me?"
She finally turned toward him, but not without a sigh and that eye roll he loved so much. "What do you want, Booth?"
"I want to talk to you," he said, trying not to lose his temper.
She frowned as if she was actually confused. "I don't see that there's anything for us to discuss. We're not working on a case and we don't have an appointment with Sweets until next week and—"
He held up his hands to cut her off. "Are you serious?" he demanded.
"I don't think anything I said could be construed as humorous—"
"It's a rhetorical question, Bones, okay? Rhetorical."
"Oh," she said. "Okay."
He took a moment to regain his composure; he didn't think it would be a good idea to strangle his partner in the middle of the Jeffersonian no matter how infuriating she was being. "We need to talk about last night."
For an instant, she looked frightened—genuinely frightened. But in a flash the fear was gone, replaced by a distant indifference. "There's nothing to talk about, Booth."
He moved closer to her, consciously invading her personal space. "Yes," he said, "there is." His voice was hard. It left no room for argument and she was forced to follow him when he turned and walked off the platform, heading for her office.
Always the gentleman, (even when he wanted to wring her neck), he held the door for her and closed it securely once she was inside. She stood beside her desk while he remained near the door, his arms crossed, his expression serious. "You don't want me to move on," he stated bluntly. He figured taking the direct route would be the only way they would ever get anywhere.
"No, that's not what I said." He was silent in his disbelief. Was she really going to deny her own words?
"But you said…"
"I said that I think I don't want you to move on. I was simply trying to determine an explanation for what I was feeling. It was pure conjecture."
"Bones," he said, his voice quiet and to her, unsettling, "I know you. I know you. You don't want me to move on, but you're too afraid to admit it."
"The only thing that can be established definitively is that the idea of you moving on makes me feel unpleasant. That does necessarily mean that I don't want you to move on."
"No, Bones, that's exactly what it means."
She frowned and dropped her eyes from his face, looking instead at the floor. "I hate psychology," she mumbled out of habit.
Sensing a crack in her defenses, he moved closer and waited for her to look at him again. When she finally did, the distance, the indifference, was gone. Instead, her eyes were filled with one simple plea: please, let this go. For a moment, he was tempted to do just that. He could see the fear and the vulnerability in her eyes. But he could also see the faith she still had in him, lurking beneath the surface. "If you don't want me to move on, I won't move on." His tone was gentle, but his words were terrifying.
"Booth, I can't do this. I can't—"
"Temperance," he said, catching her off guard with her given name. "Just say it. Say you don't want me to move on." He saw her jaw tense, the way she held her chin firm. He knew he was pushing her to the breaking point. He moved closer to her. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Just say it." He placed his hands at her waist, but she didn't lean into him like she had the night before. She held him at a distance, her hands pressed firmly to his chest. "Just say it."
He waited, then, for what seemed like hours. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled and shook. "I don't…I don't want you to…" She trailed off and looked at him, holding his gaze desperately. She was afraid it was the best she could do. "Please, Booth…"
He took pity on her then. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she gave into him, sliding her arms up his chest and around his neck. He kissed her hair and her temple and she let him. After a while, they both pulled back slightly. He smiled down at her and then watched as the most beautiful, hesitant smile spread slowly across her features. He wanted to kiss her, but paused for a moment. "You trust me?"
For an instant, she was quiet, feeling the weight of the moment, heavy in the air. Then she nodded and said, "I trust you," and he knew she really did.
Then he bent his head toward her upturned face and pressed a feather-light kiss to her lips. He pulled back slightly, his lips still brushing hers barely, to see if she was okay. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed. He kissed her again and she parted her lips, sighing softly as his mouth melded with hers in a kiss that was both desperate and restrained, tender and hard. His body felt good against hers. For the first time in five and a half years, she allowed herself to enjoy the pleasure of his hands at the small of her back, his abdominal muscles firm against her stomach. She shifted onto her toes and reveled in the groan she elicited from him as her breasts pressed more firmly against his chest.
He shifted his lips to her neck and then nibbled his way back to her earlobe, before kissing the corner of her lips and, once again, her mouth. His kiss was softer this time and she smiled against his lips, leaning into him, running her fingers through his hair. When he finally pulled away, they both grinned at each other—outrageous, giddy, disbelieving grins. But then, gradually, her face turned serious. That fear he had seen only moments ago flashed in her eyes again. "You won't leave me?" she whispered.
Never before had she been so vulnerable, so needy with him and he wasn't going to scare her off with a half-hearted, flippant remark. His face was earnest. He held her gaze. "Temperance, I will never leave you."
Her face was at once both relieved and yet still hesitant. "I don't know if I can do this."
She didn't pull away when she said it. If anything, she moved closer. He realized she wasn't running away. She simply doubted herself. "You can do this," he assured her. "I'll help you."
Never one to accept help of any sort, he was surprised when she nodded and said, "Thank you."
He didn't want to let her go, but he had a pile of paper work waiting for him on his desk, so with one last, quick kiss, he stepped away. "I should get back to work," he said regretfully. "Do you want me to pick you up later?"
She smiled and nodded. "I would like that."
Angela watched as Booth and Brennan emerged from her office. They weren't touching, they weren't even talking to each other, but there was something intimate, almost tender, in the way he walked slightly behind her, his body angled towards her. In the way she lifted her gaze to his face and held his eye.
They walked together to the door and as Angela looked on, Booth smiled and said something that made her laugh. He then bent towards her, and for a moment, Angela thought he was going to kiss her, but at the last second, she lifted a hand to his chest and he redirected his lips to her forehead, kissing her in a way that was almost more loving, more protective than any kiss on the mouth could ever be.
Brennan watched Booth walk away and then turned around, making her way back to the platform where Angela was waiting, hands on hips, lips quirked into a knowing smirk. Brennan only glanced at her before directing her attention back to the bones she had been examining before Booth interrupted her.
"Sweetie," Angela said in a tone that said I know your secret.
Brenna didn't even turn to face her friend when she said, "Yes, Angela?"
"Do you realize that Booth just kissed you on the forehead?"
Brennan glanced over her shoulder and frowned at Angela. "Yes, I was there," she said in a tone that would've been sarcastic from anybody else.
"Sweetie, you know I love you, right? But I know a platonic kiss when I see one, and that kiss was definitely not platonic."
Brenna furrowed her brow. "How could you possible tell that from your vantage point of…what? Twenty yards away."
"I just could, okay? Now. Can we get to the point here?"
Brennan picked up a rib and peered at it. "I wasn't aware there was a point to this conversation."
Angela sighed and walked around to the other side of the table so that she could face her friend. "The point is, that that kiss was not platonic. That kiss was hot. Filled with desire and expectations and…and sex."
Brennan was incredulous. "You're getting all this from one kiss on the forehead?"
"Are you impressed?"
"Not in the slightest."
Angela sighed. "Bren, you can play your whole I have seven PhDs and am ice cold and will not give an inch, but you forget that I am your best friend and can tell when you're hiding something."
"I only have three doctorates, Angela, not seven."
"It's called hyperbole, Bren, ever heard of it?"
"Yes, I have. It's an exaggerated statement not meant to be taken literally." Angela was quiet after Brennan's impromptu vocabulary lesson, regarding her friend with that direct, slightly annoyed stare that Booth always gave her when she was being difficult. Brennan didn't like it when Booth looked at her that way and was finding it equally unpleasant coming from her best friend. "What?" she finally said.
Angela only shook her head and picked up her sketchpad, moving off the platform. "You're hiding something and I will find out what it is."
At seven o'clock, Booth waltzed into Brennan's office whistling some show tune that Brennan didn't recognize. She was at her desk, finishing up some paperwork, and barely glanced up at Booth's entrance. "I'll be right with you, Booth," she said distractedly.
"Wow, Bones, I'm happy to see you too. How about a little endearments, huh? You know, How was your day, dear? Oh, fine, how was yours, honey?"
Brennan glanced at Booth, her brow furrowed. "Why are you talking to yourself?"
"I'm not…I wasn't…" He sighed. "Ready to go?"
She nodded and stood, grabbing her coat off its hook. She began to move past Booth towards the door, but he slipped an arm around her waist, effectively halting her movement. "Hey, Bones, not so fast," he said, gently tugging her back towards him.
"Booth, stop manhandling me."
"I'm not manhandling you," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her snug against his body.
"Then what are you doing?" she asked, smiling a cute little half smile that told him she knew exactly what he was doing.
He smiled this sexy, crooked smile and said, "I'm trying to kiss you." His voice was low and rough and made her shiver.
"Oh," she said, the slightest waver in her voice. "Okay."
He began to lean toward her, but paused when he felt her tense in his arms. "Booth, wait…" she breathed, bowing her head toward his chest.
"You okay?" he asked, running his hands in reassuring circles across her back.
"So we're really doing this?" she asked.
He smiled. "We're really doing this."
She nodded. "Okay."
He leaned forward again and this time she tilted her mouth up to meet his. He kissed her softly and slowly and she put her hands inside his jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. He slid his hands down her back to the edge of her shirt and slipped them under the fabric, pressing his fingers to her bare back. She made the most adorable whimpering sound in the back of her throat as he flattened his palm against her lower back and simultaneously shifted his lips to her neck. She could feel the slight scratch of his stubble along her jaw, as he trailed kisses up her neck to the spot right behind her ear. She sighed softly, instinctively pulling him closer as she felt the heat of his breath and wetness of his kisses against her skin. "Booth…" she said and the word came out in a half-moan.
"Yeah?" he said, his lips right at her ear.
"We can't do this…not here…"
Even though most of his mind was occupied solely on the feel of Bones' skin and the noises she made when he kissed her neck, he quickly realized that she was right. He was getting to a point where, if he didn't stop, they'd probably end up consummating their relationship on her couch.
With a regretful sigh, he pulled away slightly and looked at her face. She was wonderfully disheveled, cheeks flushed, hair in slight disarray. He dropped one last kiss to her lips and began to move away, but was surprised when she stopped him, gripping his lapels to keep him in place. He chuckled softly as she leaned into him again, resting her forehead in the center of his chest. "You okay there, Bones?" he asked.
"I think I finally understand the phrase 'weak in the knees'," she admitted, glancing up at him with an almost sheepish smile.
He grinned, unable to suppress a smug sense of achievement at her admission. He, lowly, government worker Seeley Booth, had made world-renowned, forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan, weak in the knees. He felt more proud of this accomplishment than any other deed that had earned him a plaque or a medal. "Feeling a little wobbly there, huh, Bones?"
She shook her head at him. "Stop grinning like that."
He grinned more. "Like what?"
"Like—like that!" she cried, pointing accusingly at his face.
"I guess I'm just more skilled than I thought. I should be more careful next time. Maybe I should just walk around with some sort of warning taped to my chest. Or I could have girls sign a waver beforehand, you know, so I'm not liable if they faint or something." By the end of his speech, Brennan's look of annoyance had degraded into a full-on scowl. She moved away from him, crossing her arms across her chest.
"You're so damn cocky," she accused, sounding genuinely angry. "Why do you have to be like that? You make me crazy sometimes."
As soon as he realized that he had upset her, the guilt, strong and swift, set in. "Hey, Bones. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you." She didn't respond, only continued glaring at him. He took a step closer, flashed one of his patented Seeley Booth charm smiles. "Look, you make me crazy too."
Now she looked confused. "I do?"
He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, but in a different way."
She furrowed her brow. "A different way?"
He nodded again. "A good way."
She smiled then and let him kiss her. He slipped his arm around her shoulder as they headed out the door and she leaned into him. "So," she murmured into his ear. "A good way?"
He nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. "The best way."
So, what does everybody think? This was originally just going to be a one-shot, but now I'm thinking of continuing it. Thoughts? Either way…review!!!