Accessories of Epic Hotness
By: dharmamonkey & Lesera128
Disclaimer: Is anyone still reading these things? Of course, we include one with every story, more to amuse ourselves than anything. But, just in case anyone else gets a kick out of our pithy witticisms, here goes. Prepare for an excited utterance: WE OWN NOTHING. We still wish we did. We suspect many of our readers still wish we did, too. But, alas, we're just poor paupers who jacked you know who's Bones sandbox. Heh. So there.
Summary: An accessory is defined as an item that completes one's look. For Booth & Brennan, accessories not only contribute to a look, but can also set them off. A series of completely unrelated one-shots for your reading pleasure.
A/N: Dharmasera, Inc. wanted to prove we could write chapters that weren't the size of Charles Dickens' weekly serials. We also have so many yummy images that inspire us in the Bones world. Hence this series was born. Sound interesting? Some may contain unfness, most will hint at it at the very least, if not actually deliver on something. There is no rhyme or reason to this piece aside from the fact that all chapters are self-contained one-shots, feature Booth, Brennan, and highlight an appropriate accessory. If that sounds good to you, then, read on...
Chapter 1- The Fedora
It was raining the first time she saw him wearing it.
The spring twilight had a strange aspect to it. In some ways, the lingering sunlight and misting rain hinted at the hot and humid summers that would soon lay claim to the Chesapeake region. In other ways, the clinging tentacles of winter steadfastly refused to give up precedence to a season that was already half over. And, so, it was an odd mixture of weather that greeted Dr. Temperance Brennan as she stood on the steps in front of the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington D.C. She'd received a call from Booth that another body had been found near a campground in Greenbelt Park, about eight miles into Maryland from D.C. proper. Since she'd been on her way from the lab to meet him at the diner for a late dinner anyway, Brennan had agreed to wait from him in front of the Hoover.
Glancing at her watch, Brennan saw that Booth had obviously been delayed since his military punctuality usually assured his timely arrival unless he was waylaid by other people. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the sky was cloaked with heavy gunmetal grey nimbus clouds that threatened to deluge their crime scene. Brennan's brow furrowed as she worried that evidence might be destroyed. However, as a stiff breeze came rumbling down Pennsylvania Avenue—in a way that was more suited to chilling drafts rolling in off of Lake Michigan, Brennan thought, in her expert opinion as a pseudo-native of Chicago—she couldn't help but shiver. The temperature was a bit cooler than she expected, and as the misting rain dampened her clothing, she cursed herself for foolishly leaving her burgundy trench coat in her office. She hadn't taken it since she figured she'd only be gone an hour at the most before she returned to the lab to work some more after dinner.
Clutching her fingers around the fleshy part of her upper arms, she began to stamp her feet in a way to make the damp seem a bit less chilling and as a way to make time pass faster.
Although she didn't believe such a thing were possible, she'd only been shivering for a minute or two when she heard him call out her name.
Brennan turned around and watched as her partner bounded down the steps of the Hoover Building two at a time.
"Hey, Booth," Brennan replied, trying to conjure a welcoming smile, but failing miserably in achieving anything better than making herself look like a bedraggled wet cat.
As Booth jogged down the steps, his face was plastered with the goofy kind of grin that left no doubt that he was already excited about their latest case. "Hell of a storm it looks like we're gonna get, huh?" he said, glancing up at the sky and then lowering his gaze to meet hers as he got to the bottom of the steps. As soon as he saw her, her hair damp and slightly frizzy from the rain, with a few of the wetter strands sticking to her temple as she tried to brush them away, he raised his eyebrows. "Hey," he said, unsure of what to say but quite certain that any comments that even remotely came across the wires sounding like 'What happened to you?' would make the wet streets the least of his problems on the drive to Greenbelt Park.
Brennan frowned for a moment, and then said, "I hope not. I'm hoping that perhaps the storm hasn't yet migrated into Maryland yet because you know how I hate it when my crime scenes are compromised."
"Yeah, Bones, well," Booth chuckled. "Even if you don't believe in Him, sometimes there's still nothing you can do about the whole Act of God thing. So, I just got a call and—" He stopped mid-sentence, and then frowned as he realized that Brennan was shivering. "Hey, wait. Where's your coat?"
He couldn't help but notice that her ivory-colored knit sweater with its scooped neckline and cap sleeves left her arms and upper chest totally exposed to the drizzling rain, beads of which already dotted her fair skin. As his eyes skimmed along the length of her arm and saw the goosebumps on her arms which she had loosely crossed in front of her belly, he noted another sign that she was freezing.
The damp sweater stuck to her skin and her nipples were peeking through the fabric in a very obvious way. Booth blinked and furrowed his brow as he scrambled for a non-obvious way to look away without it being too blatant that he was trying not to look at her chest, which he was sure would leave no doubt that he had, in fact, been looking at her chest. He nibbled the inside of his lip for a moment and licked his lips, then realized what he had just done and tried to recover by holding the tip of his tongue between his lips, struggling not to wince as he tried not to look directly at her chest, but the harder he tried not to look at her chest, the more he found himself unable to think about anything else other than the incredibly delicious way the fabric of her top clung to every minute curve and bump on her nipples. He swallowed and glanced down at his crotch, relieved that he had buttoned up his trench coat in the elevator so that his sudden interest in the fit of her knit top, and his body's immediate and increasingly firm response, wasn't obvious to anyone but him.
"At the lab," she said. "I didn't think I'd need it since it was so warm earlier today, and I thought I'd only be at the diner for an hour."
"Bones," he said, cocking his head to the side and pouting his lips sympathetically as he blinked away the temptation to wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest to warm her up. A tugging sensation low in his belly reminded him why that was not a good idea. "You're freezing," he said.
Quickly, Booth began to unbutton the front of his beige trenchcoat. As he began to shrug his arms out of the coat, Brennan saw that he was wearing a black pinstripe suit, a relatively standard white Oxford dress shirt, and a burgundy sateen necktie. When he shifted to pull the trenchcoat off his body, he tilted his head at just enough of an angle so that his dark brown eyes were barely visible under the brim of the black felt fedora that he wore.
"Here," he offered, slipping his arm out of the sleeve and handing her the coat in a single movement. "Take mine."
Slowly shaking her head, Brennan said, "No. That's not logical. It's still raining, and it would do us no good if you were to be incapacitated by the damp and rain, Booth."
"I've got my suit coat on, Bones," he reminded her, pushing the bunched-up coat towards her. "Come on, Bones. I'm good. Really."
Pursing her lips, she took on a stubborn look that Booth knew only too well—as it warned that Brennan was going to dig in her heels about the jacket. Her words confirmed his suspicions as she replied, "Thank you, but, no. I'm okay. I'm not taking your trenchcoat."
Booth stared at her for a long moment, and then shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Fine," he said, as he shifted the trench coat from one arm to the other, draping it over his forearm as he started to take off his black suit jacket. "Then, you're taking this one. I'll keep the trenchcoat. You wear my suit jacket. And we'll both be warm and spiffy on the ride out to Greenbelt, huh?"
Once he'd taken off the suit jacket, and quickly pulled the trenchcoat back over his muscular chest, he moved too quickly for Brennan. She wasn't really even certain what was happening as Booth reached out, pulled her to him, and started to touch her in a way that was anything but partner-like even though he'd invaded her personal space with no intention but to put the jacket on her. His hands slowed as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. For her part, Brennan shivered again. This time, however, it wasn't because of the weather. Instead, she felt a giddy lightheadedness as the warmth of his lingering body heat leapt from the silk lining of the coat onto her clammy skin. His smell—a mixture of sandalwood, menthol, and some sort of vaguely masculine body wash fragrance—washed over her in a sensory assault that made her knees start to wobble a bit. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to steady herself, grabbing his shoulder as she did so. Again, her reaction clearly caught him off-guard, and Booth thought she was going to politely but firmly remind him that she didn't like to be touched unless she made a clear invitation that a person could do so.
Still acutely aware of how tight the front of his trousers felt and absolutely certain that he didn't need her to discover that she wasn't the only one with sensitive body parts that had become erect, he blushed and quickly moved to put some distance between them, but his shuffling movements only caught both of their feet to tangle them up in one another's insteps. They collapsed on the wet cement of the sidewalk in front of the Hoover, a mess of limbs, Brennan's purse, and Booth's fedora. He grunted, and she gasped, particularly when they came to realize that Brennan had landed on top of Booth.
Looking up at her, Brennan felt her heart rate increase as she looked down into his warm brown eyes.
"Booth?" she breathed, tilting her head as she saw him looking at her in a way he hadn't looked at her in a long, long time.
"Yeah, Bones?" he replied after swallowing once since his throat had become inexplicably dry in the preceding moment. He squirmed against the pavement, glad in that moment that she had fallen such that she was leaning mostly againat his hip and thigh and not laying directly on top of him.
"Why were you wearing that hat?" Brennan asked, shifting her balance so that the center of her mass brushed briefly against the front of him. Without hesitating or skipping a beat, she tilted her head to one side, and politely waited for an answer, even though her question had been the last one that Booth ever could've anticipated her asking him.
"Uhhh, what?" Booth coughed, the tips of his ears reddening as he at once savored and recoiled at the feeling of her body pressing against his and realized that, if she was going to notice the source of his discomfort, she would have already. He cleared his throat and his forehead creased as she struggled to use her arms to lift herself away from him.
"Your hat?" Brennan said as she lifted her chin slightly in the direction of where the hat had fallen. "Why were you wearing a fedora? I know you occasionally wear other hats, but I don't think I've ever seen you wear one of those, and I was just wondering why tonight was any different?"
Booth saw her deliciously pink lips move, and felt his groin tighten as his mind only registered every third word she had said. When she'd stopped talking, the general gist of her question finally penetrated the fuzzy haze that had suddenly wrapped itself around his head.
"Oh," he said sheepishly. "The hat? I, uhh...well, see, uhh...I sorta got blackmailed into doing this thing today with a couple of the other SAs who were doing a public outreach thing for the Bureau for the one of the middle schools here in D.C. We had to do this spiel about the history of the G-man, and the other guys thought the hats would give our talk some extra pop, so I told them I'd wear it for the presentation—"
Booth didn't get a chance to finish his sentence when Brennan suddenly leaned over, pressing her chest against his, and reached out for his lips with hers. She wasn't certain what his response would be, but when his lips found hers, and, after a second of hesitation, his mouth opened to meet her kiss, she decided she needed to send a personal thank-you note to the other two agents who'd made Booth wear the fedora...and, then, she'd buy him at least six more so that he had one to wear on each day of the week as long as each day turned out like this one had unexpectedly.
The moment he felt her lips press against his, Booth felt a gush of warmth surge through his chest and his hands suddenly left the cool, wet pavement and swept up to cup her face between them. He felt her tongue sweep into his mouth and he closed his eyes, pulling away slightly as her tongue chased his, drawing him back into her kiss as she murmured into his open mouth. The moment he tasted her, the warmth that had spread through his chest flashed again, and he felt his skin flush hot as he pushed her face away from his just enough to allow him the space to reach for her lips with his own grasping kiss, sighing as he felt her warm, sweet tongue twirl to meet his. As she sucked on his lower lip, he felt a raw, wonderfully pleasurable tingle in his lower back and couldn't help but thrust his hips up against hers.
When they at last pulled apart, Booth broke out into a crooked smile as he gave her a dazed, if slightly goofy look. Smacking his lips, he asked, "Bones?"
"I take it that means you like the fedora?" he asked her with a cocky, lopsided grin.
Leaning back a little before she resumed their kiss, she answered by way of a slight smile and a nod.
"Hmmmm," Booth murmured, pulling her face to his again. "Duly noted," he snickered, then reached for her bee-stung lips again, closing his eyes as he let himself drown in the warm, silky feel of her mouth on his.
A/N: That's right, people. We're a constant surprise. And you thought the two of us writing together couldn't write something less than 10,000 words. Well, we can. And we did. And we're gonna do it again. Next up: suspenders. Yes, that's right. The very word brings up all kinds of mental pictures of epic unfness. Or, maybe it's just us.
Let us know what you think. Since ordinarily you'd still be only 1/4 the way through our chapter, you can invest some of that extra time into leaving a review. Pretty please? *blinks prettily*
Pretty, pretty please? You do wanna read about the suspenders, don't ya? *wink*
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