The Confession in the Kitchen

A/N: Another oldie I uncovered for your reading pleasure. This will be at least two parts, maybe more. Set post The Wannabe in the Weeds, eventually earning the M rating. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy this one, I remember having fun writing it years go.

She was absolutely livid.

Booth had insisted on taking her home, and she, feeling slightly guilty after socking him in the eye, had reluctantly agreed. But now, standing in her kitchen, watching him across from her as he stood with crossed arms, the navy fabric of his dress uniform stretched tightly over his shoulders, her anger had renewed. It was completely irrational, to be so upset, but for once in her life, she didn't care. Here he was, in the flesh, completely whole, when just mere minutes ago, she had believed him to be dead. Dead, because of her, for her. She'd been standing over his grave, for god's sake, and he hadn't had the balls to break protocol and tell her himself that it'd all been a lie.

Looking at him, it was completely obvious that he had no idea how angry she was at him. Oh, he was about to learn. She shifted, her heels clicking lightly on the tile floor, and took a deep breath in preparation. But before she could even say a word, he jumped in with, "I gotta say, Bones. You have a vicious right hook," and that was it.

She spun violently, her blood boiling, and yanked open the freezer half of the refrigerator door. She didn't know what she was looking for until she found it. Jerking the bag of frozen vegetables from the bottom shelf, she slammed the door shut, rattling the entire freezer, and whirled to face him once again. The look of surprise on his face didn't go unnoticed, and as the bag of vegetables hit him square in the chest, he winced and took a step back. "Jesus, what the hell was that for?" he yelped, kicking the vegetables to the side from where they'd landed at his feet.

She hadn't stopped to think about his wound before she'd lashed out, but this time, there was no guilt.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't dead?" Her voice rose steadily and her hands folded into fists at her sides as she yelled.

He looked almost taken aback by her fury, and he fumbled for an answer. "You were supposed to know," he replied, as if that would be enough to pacify her.

"I don't care if I was supposed to know. I didn't know." She broke off, eyes shining. "For two weeks, I had to live with that. You died, Booth."

Uncrossing his arms, he took a menacing step closer to her. "What did you want me to do? It's not my fault –"

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was! I should have known. You should have told me."

She raised her hands, giving him a forceful push backward. He stumbled, his back hitting the wall behind him. "Bones, I –"

"Don't you care about me?" she asked, hating that he'd given her a reason to doubt him.

Her questioned seemed to stun him, and he didn't say anything. This pause infuriated her – all this time, she'd been so sure there'd been something between them. Enraged she moved to stomp around him, unable to even be in his presence any longer, but he snagged her wrist as she slipped by. His fingers were like fire on her skin, and she sucked in her breath, stiffening. He hovered behind her, huge and warm and alive, and she feebly attempted to tug her arm away, but he tightened his hold until her back was flush to his chest.

"I took a goddamn bullet for you, Temperance. How can you say that?" The uncharacteristic profanity stirred something within her, but anger and disappointment laced his passionate words.

"Let go," she commanded, unnerved.

"No, you let go." He slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "Let it go."

"I can't!" Desperate, she struggled against him, her entire body tensing. Instead of relinquishing his hold, as the Booth she thought she knew would have, he urged her forward, trapping her between his body and the fridge. The stainless steel was cold, but it did nothing for the inferno that he'd ignited inside of her with his unwillingness to back down.

"Why not?" He released her wrist then, and both of his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He squeezed them forcefully, almost painfully, and his lips tickled her neck when he said, "Tell me, Bones, 'cause I'd really like to know why you're so pissed off."

She turned her head, pressing her heated cheek into the cool metal. He wanted to know? Okay then, she'd let him know. "Because, Booth! Because I had the nerve to fall so far in love with you that it felt like I couldn't breathe without you here! That's why I can't let it go!"

The silence that settled over the kitchen was sudden and absolute.