This is my first venture into fanfiction since a year or so. I've been writing a lot of original fiction, but somehow, I felt the need to come back to these two. The song Need you Now, by Lady Antebellum, inspired this piece. I hope you guys like it! Please let me know what you think! :)

Need You Now

He's sitting at the bar, his eyes on the scotch he's holding in his left hand. He turns the ice in the glass.

One turn to the left, two turns to the right

The bar is almost empty; the late night now turned early morning discourages any patrons, and the owner of the joint is now cleaning glasses, his eyes constant on the tall, dark man leaning over the liquor. He's been there since the night started, emptying glass after glass, at an excruciatingly slow pace. The man is thoughtful, he can say, not desperate. He's seen his share of desperate men, longing to forget; their eyes are foggy, restless, they move their legs and drink too fast. No, this man is not desperate. This man is sad. And throughtful, yes, but mostly sad. He's quiet and his eyes don't leave his hands or the amber tone of the drink.

The man lifts his head and stares directly at the owner, gesturing for him to approach. The short man places a glass on the counter and walks toward the man, his hand moving almost thoughtlessly to the bottle of scotch. The man shakes his head, though, and the owner places the bottle back in its place.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. Can I make a phone call? I'll pay for it." The owner can tell the man is not drunk. His speech is proper, correct. Not slurred, not slowed by the alcohol or any other kind of intoxicating substance.

"Sure." The owner passes the man the phone and he starts dialing. "No need to worry about it, pal."

There's a knock on the door, and both of them stare at the door for a moment. The man moves his right hand toward his belt, and the bar owner can tell he has a gun, but the man doesn't actually grasp it. He just keeps the hand in that general area, in alert.

The owner approaches the door, and is slightly stunned when he sees the woman on the other side of the glass. She's truly beautiful, a tall and slender figure, together with a pose that seems royal, majestic. He glances at the clock before reaching for the doorknob. 5 a.m. He can't let her in, no matter how pretty she is. The bar was supposed to be closed two hours ago.

He opens the door slightly "I'm sorry, ma'am. This bar is closed."

She doesn't look like she wants to drink.

"Yes, I am aware of that. I do imagine, however, that you have a man still in there. Tall, probably wearing a leather jacket?" the description fits the man at the bar. Damn, is this his wife? What does this man have to be sad about, with a woman like this?

"Somethin' like that."

"I need to talk to him." She doesn't say anything else. It's like she knows that her look, that fierceness that fills her voice when she talks about him, will get her any place she wants. The owner steps aside and allows her tall figure to walk into the bar. The man is facing the opposite side of the room, so he doesn't see them.

As she steps into the place, she takes a moment to look around. It's like she's taking the place in, looking at every corner, every imperfection. The owner feels a sudden bout of self-consciousness, that passes quickly as the woman walks slowly towards the man and sits at the stool beside him.

The owner senses a need for privacy, so he walks quietly behind the counter and into the kitchen. He leaves the bottle of scotch and another glass in front of the woman, and leaves to the other room under her thankful stare.

"What are you doing here, Bones?"

I needed to see you.

"I was looking for you." her fingers touch the edge of the empty glass, allowing themselves to make their way across the whole circumference. She feels the cold edge against her skin and welcomes that feeling, almost as an escape from the man she so eagerly looked for.

"And why is that?" He isn't kind, or caring, or warm, like he usually is. There's none of that. His voice is now measured, low, but not tender, never tender. It feels like a stab to her chest.

"I was worried."

"About me?" the robotic tone turns into a mocking one, and she feels that cold in the pit of her stomach. She shouldn't have come here, she shouldn't have looked for him in the middle of the night.

There's something in here, something in me that doesn't allow you to be too far away for too long.

"Yes. I don't like not knowing where you are."

"You probably need to work on that, from now one, Bones. You probably won't know where I am for the better part of next year." She knows. Oh, she knows, and she regrets making her own decision so incredibly much. She knows she pushed him, she knows that if she had chosen to stay, if she had given him a reason to do so as well, he might have reconsidered and refused to go to Afghanistan. But now it's too late.

"I know."

There's a moment of silence, and she can feel him breaking, just like she did moments before. Her eyes don't leave his face as he goes from quiet to sad, to enraged, to biting his lip nervously. Before long, he settles on the loving, tender Booth eyes, and she feels herself warm up all over again.

He slides his hand down the counter, in her direction. It doesn't take much thought for her to place her hand on his and allow herself to be comforted.

"Want to take a walk?" His voice is so soft she barely hears him.

"No." she stops herself at his look, continuing her phrase "I want to go to your place."


"I want to. I want to be with you while I can. You are the person I'll miss the most, so I want to spend every moment I can with you." Her speech, even in a low tone, leaves her breathless, and he holds her hand more tightly. Her eyes are glistening with tears in the dim light, and he brings his other hand up to caress her cheekbone. She leans into his caress, feeling completely, absolutely adored.

"Let's go."

He pays the owner and makes his way out of the bar, where she's expecting him. Her back is turned to him, her head thrown back as she looks at the starts in the dim light of the early morning. As he approaches her, he feels her acknowledgement, and places a hand on the small of her back. Brennan repositions her head, so that she's facing him, and falls softly into the space below his neck. They walk to his car tangled in each other, and only break apart after he opens the door for her to get in.

There's a certain amount of peace in the way you hold her, like she's about to break in two and only you can pull her together again. It's not fair, it was never fair to begin with. But it's how it is.

He's surprised she hasn't complained about his chivalrous gesture, but the small smile on her face tells him that she probably even enjoyed it.

As soon as they get to his apartment, they make their way into his bedroom. There's an awkward moment, each on one side of the bed. He smiles, that little boy smile she has learned to adore, and he moves towards his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He places them on her hands, and she nods thankfully.

"You go into my bathroom, I'll use the one down the hall." She tries to tell him that she can use the guest's bath, but he doesn't allow her. He takes his own pajamas from under the pillow and moves down the hallway with a smile on his face.

She takes a moment to smell his shirt, before she puts it on. She's known that scent since that first kiss, outside that same bar they were just in. She already has his shorts on (not too long, but enough to give her a sense of decency), and she pulls the X-Men shirt over her head with a smile. She opens the door to find him sitting on the bed, facing the bathroom, waiting for her to come out.

She sits beside him and his hand finds hers almost immediately. It only takes a look for her to decide to lay down, and he does the same. They're facing each other, their bodies at less than an arm's length from one another.

This. This is the moment, this is the time. This is what you've been waiting for all these years.

"This is not appropriate partner behaviour." Her mouth is dry when she says this, and he knows exactly what she means with that statement. She wants to know if he's there as much as she is, if he's aware of the enormity of that moment. They don't need to have sex, to consummate anything, at least not tonight. But they need to acknowledge that the partner line is far behind them.

"Do you care about that?"

"No." Both of them smile at her answer. "Do you?"


Their smiles could light up an entire city.

She brings her hand up to the pillow, and he grabs it almost instantly. Her body moves closer to him, just an inch, almost imperceptibly. He moves too, in her direction, and before they know it, they're tangling their legs together and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Their faces touch, forehead first, and his arm snakes around her to pull her closer. Her hand rests on his face as she touches his nose with hers and smiles, a timid display of affection that seems nothing but natural for the both of them.

The first kiss is tender, slow, almost fearful. They break apart and as the second wave of desire comes upon them, the kisses grow stronger, deeper, fiercer.

You made a mistake, you can't leave. You can't leave to Maluku, he can't go back to the army. But he is, and you are, and breaks your heart. So you kiss him deeper and hope to vanish within him.

The kisses subside and she rests her head on his arm, closing her eyes. She feels his breath on her forehead and for a few moments before she falls asleep, everything around her is just as it's supposed to be.