Title: Destination Unknown
Pairing: Booth/Brennan
Series: Into the Fire
Series Summary: This is a series of oneshot 300-word ficlets about Booth and Brennan crossing the line over and over again.
Prompt: #8 (Tongue)
Prompt Table: Sex
Written for: 
drabble123
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: There's a reference to The Santa in the Slush.
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
Feedback: is always appreciated. My sincere thanks to all those who read and/or comment; you really do make writing fanfic more fun than it already is. :)
Click here for fic index.
Click for the other ficlets in this series.
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They argue; that’s just what they do. They comfort each other, too; that’s just who they’ve become. Five of her fingers rest on his forearm, one of his arms warms the sad curve of her shoulders: this, then, is how Booth counts the tragedies of their lives.
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One day he finds her staring off into the distance, seeing things he can only guess at. But her eyes are liquid and as grey as a storm cloud (cumulonimbus, he remembers her telling Parker once, right before they were drenched by rain), and silver paints the familiar planes of her face.
It doesn’t matter why, it simply matters that it is so.
Before he can convince himself to stop, Booth sips the salt on her cheeks; it tastes like a prayer for which he’s forgotten the words. He feels her stop breathing, her gaze heavy on his face as he pulls back to look at her.
“What--?” she asks, before he presses a finger to her lips.
The words still (only temporarily, he knows), she blinks and tilts her head to the side, and her eyes remain open, watchful, as he crosses the last line between them.
Gallons of coffee consumed by them both, God knows how many miles logged in his SUV, too few victims given back their names and faces and this, then, is where it’s all brought them, to a place he swore to avoid: her mouth pressed against his, his breath mingled with hers.
especially the part about "too few victims"... it will never be enough, will it. how do they take it past the point of 'other' into the realm of 'self' without the guilt, the fear of risking it 'all'?
...this is why i love fanfic!
♥
especially the part about "too few victims"... it will never be enough, will it.
There's always someone they couldn't save or at least identify -- a tough thing to live with, I'm sure. :\
Beautiful description: One day he finds her staring off into the distance, seeing things he can only guess at. But her eyes are liquid and as grey as a storm cloud (cumulonimbus, he remembers her telling Parker once, right before they were drenched by rain), and silver paints the familiar planes of her face.
And I love love love: her eyes remain open, watchful, as he crosses the last line between them
Fabulous last line too - oh I could quote the whole thing right back at ya!
x
I glanced at it just now, but I've got to run off to class - will return!
Bravo!
If I may jump on the "I could quote the whole thing back to you" bandwagon, this is heart-stopping:
"one of his arms warms the sad curve of her shoulders"
So beautiful.
:)
This is probably one of the most perfect lines ever written. Love it <3
I especially like the last three lines: it's them.
In this very boring summer I was really hoping to know when I could have read your stories again...
welcome back!
And remember that we're still waiting for new chapters of the long fics...where's presbyopia?????? :P
Trust me, I know I have unfinished longer fics patiently waiting for me. As always, thanks for your interest in Presbyopia; I promise it will be finished -- perhaps sooner than you think. ;) I'm pregnant, and that, along with the joys of summer, has taken up more of my attention and interest this season.
Thanks for commenting; I appreciate it.