The Urge In The Night

Something was nagging at him, some unfamiliar sound. Though he was supremely comfortable, it dragged an unwilling Seeley Booth out of a deep, deep sleep.

"Whu..." he muddled through the layers of consciousness. He wasn't at home, felt disorientated for a moment. Unfamiliar sounds. Very comfortable bed, with incredibly soft sheets. Heady scent in his nose. The sheets smelled of her.

Her bed. Oh yes.

A few months ago they'd finally found themselves on the same page, and had started something even she referred to as a relationship. Just a very slow, very cautious one. They went on dates, all sorts of activities. They enjoyed each other's company.

The time they'd spent in private had mostly been at his place - he'd felt instinctively that that was more comfortable to her, left her an escape hatch. She would never ask him to leave when he was at her place, and he could not always tell when she wanted to be alone; if they were at his, she could simply decide to go home.

He knew that the intimacy of it all, not physically but emotionally, was still daunting. It was only three weeks ago that she'd still been there in the morning, for the first time hadn't slipped out of his bed late at night to get dressed and disappear. He'd tried not to let her feel his disappointment, tried to simply accept what she could offer, but he'd still been overjoyed to wake up next to her. They'd even shared breakfast, and then, after a goodbye kiss that had merited a cold shower afterward, she had gone home to work on her book.

He'd found wells of patience for her that he hadn't known he possessed, especially after she'd learned to tell him when things got too much. Too fast. Too intense. He respected the boundaries and in reward saw how her comfort zone slowly expanded.

He stretched luxuriously, enjoying the memory of last night, and then abruptly realised that he was alone in the bed. Her side was empty - and cold.

Was it too much for her after all?

He'd offered to go home, give her her space back, but after a moment of consideration she'd tucked her face into the crook of his neck, naked bodies melded together in a warm, lazy haze, and whispered that she'd like him to stay.

Maybe I shouldn't have, anyway.

Feeling fully awake now, he noticed the time on the bedside alarm. 03:42. Hmm. Only a few hours of sleep, but it was worth it, their time together always was.

He sat up in bed and concentrated on the sounds, trying to find the one he'd been vaguely aware of as he woke. It was gone. Strange. Just a random sound that was normal in this apartment block? No, there it was again, short bursts of a soft tapping sound.

He swung his legs off the bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got to his feet.


He followed the sound to the source and found her at her desk in the darkened living room, face lit by the screen of her laptop. She was perched on her deskchair, full attention on her screen, typing away like her life depended on it.

He smiled when he realised she was wearing his t-shirt from last night. Nothing else.

He came up from the side, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey..." she said distractedly. "Did I wake you?"


"I missed you," he smiled in the dark.

"I had this idea and I just wanted to write it down... but I didn't want to wake you."

She had her hair wound up in a loose bun, skewered with two pens. He'd marvelled at that when he'd seen her do it before, a time in the lab when her loose hair had bothered her. Very tempting to pull out the pens and watch it all tumble down about her shoulders.

Better not annoy her. She was in work mode. Focused.

He let his hand drift to the nap of her neck, stroking gently. Her skin was cold.

"How long ago was that?"

"Um..." she checked something at the bottom of the screen. "About three thousand words ago?"

He chuckled, both hands gliding over her shoulders now, warming cold muscles. Sounded like the inspiration had run off with her.

"Why don't you come back to bed?"

"I want to find out where.. this bit of the story is going."

"I meant with the laptop. Sit up against the headboard or something."

Her hands paused, and she glanced up at him with a slight smile.

"You'll be a lot warmer... and you can still work. I'll sleep through it."

"Can you really sleep like that?"

He shrugged.

"I think so - it's not that loud. I woke up because you were gone."

"Hmm." She saved her document on the slimline laptop and stood up, moving a little stiffly. "Sit here and be cold, or work in a warm bed with an attractive naked man next to me."

"Life is full of hard decisions," he smirked, pulling her close against him for a moment. The scent of her hair filled his nose. Made him think back to last night, her hair curtaining their faces as she was on top of him. Made him want her again.

Better not go down that trail of thought. She's gonna kill me if I disrupt her writing spell.

Plus, taking care of her while she worked might show her that she could do work while he was there. That she didn't always need to be alone to get anything done.

He guided her back toward the bedroom.

"I guess I am rather cold."

He might have felt mildly insulted had he not seen the gleam in her eyes.

"Are you able to sleep like this?"

"Mmmm..." he nuzzled his face against her hip. She was sitting upright in bed, pillows piled up against the headboard, with him close against her side, his arm slung lightly over her legs.

She was warming up, muscles relaxing.

From up close the typing sound was actually somewhat soothing, now he knew what made it, now he knew she was near. He let it lull him back to sleep, forehead against her hip. Warm. Close. Good.

As he drifted off, he thought he felt a gentle hand stroke his hair.

He smiled against her skin.