Title: It's Always Have and Never Hold (1/1)
Spoilers: For 6x3: The Maggots in the Meathead.
Summary: Brief tag for 6x3: The Maggots in the Meathead.
Word Count: 369
Notes: Title comes from the lyrics to The Fray's "Look After You."
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: DH is out with our daughter; yay for an hour of "me" time. *g*
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Booth makes it back to his place first, arms full of a celebratory bottle of Syrah and a brown paper bag containing manicotti and some apps from Gianni’s. They might not get to the last two before they’re cold, he thinks with a grin, but that’s OK; food’s almost always better after, when you’re naked and starving.
It’s funny how the apartment doesn’t quite feel like it’s his again yet; he can still smell it, something just a little musty, and he’s sure there’s a squinty explanation for that, and yeah, he doesn’t want to think about science right now, not when Hannah’s going to be home any minute. Home. His home and hers, too. Mi casa su casa.
There’s this warm, twisty feeling in his gut, and he swallows. He’s ready for this. He is. Screw what Sweets thinks. He’s a good kid, but what the hell does he know about relationships anyway?
After he gets everything settled on the dining table, he runs the water in his shower, letting it heat up. Before he lets the water wash off the day and get him ready for Hannah’s arrival, he stops in his bedroom. He pulls open his sock drawer and takes out the small photocopy he’s kept there for... for a couple years now, since she gave him the original. He doesn’t intend to look at it, but it’s almost like he can’t help it. Same Caribbean eyes, but the face and the smile are so much younger, open and innocent and untouched by the hurt he knows she’ll experience after her parents’ disappearance.
The small rectangle of paper sits feather-light in his palm. When he realizes his other hand has clenched into a fist, he forces his fingers to relax. With a shake of his head and a sigh he’s thankful no one else is there to hear, he folds the photocopy into eighths and carefully tucks it into the bottom of the trash can.
He’s different and she’s different and she wanted this. With a last glance at the trash can, he turns back toward the bathroom. Hannah’s coming soon, and he needs to get ready, in spite of the dry lump in his throat.