Chapter Title: I Am Standing Up At the Water's Edge
Chapter: 7/? WIP
Characters: Brennan, Booth
Rating: T or PG-13
Word Count: 2011
Summary: Thoughts of Booth are keeping Brennan awake at night. Question is, what is she going to do about it? This story is set in Season 2, after Episode 11.
Spoilers: Through 2x11
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Prologue & Chapter 1
Booth released Brennan, his arm sliding away from her shoulders, and she shivered as the cool air enveloped her naked body. As he sat up, the muscles in his back rolled beneath his skin. The same back she had circled with her arms, clung to as her heart pounded in response to the dizzying rush of sensation that had overtaken her a few short minutes ago. She felt her face heat at the memory and was suddenly happy that Booth had turned away and couldn't see her expression or the telltale flush that rose in her cheeks.
Unwilling or perhaps unable to tear her admiring gaze away from him, she watched him walk to the bathroom. Her partner was exceedingly well-structured -- a study in grace and leashed power. However, that wasn't the cause of her flushed and overheated cheeks. She had taken her pleasure with handsome men before.
Gooseflesh rose on her arms, and Brennan rose from the bed, inhaling sharply. The scent of consummated desire hung heavy in the room; her stomach did a somersault. Quickly, she turned her gaze from the rumpled sheets that bore silent but visible witness to their encounter. She spotted Booth's black t-shirt piled on the floor next to his jeans -- right where she'd left it after she'd hurriedly undressed him. Before she could think better of it, Brennan lifted the shirt and slipped it over her head. The soft cotton felt good against her naked torso, and when she inhaled, she smelled the inexplicably comforting scent of her partner. Something told her it wouldn't do to get too used to wearing the clothes that had just recently rested next to Booth's skin. Still, she couldn't help it any more than she could help the desire that had stolen her sleep and chased her from her bed to Booth's door the night before.
Flipping her hair out from beneath the collar, she padded toward Booth's kitchen in search of the ice cream he'd asked her to bring back. Her bare feet registered the change from carpet to hardwood to cold tile, and the shirt brushed the tops of her thighs with every step. Frowning, she opened the freezer door. Chilly refrigerated air blasted her face, and she flinched in reaction.
She had expected to feel sated and eventually, clearheaded, after her encounter with Booth.
Whatever she had expected to feel after being physically intimate with her partner, this wasn't it. Her limbs were relaxed and heavy, just as she'd expect them to be post-orgasm. But a certain amount of tension still coiled in her muscles. Because what Booth had given her, what she'd taken from him, what they'd done together, it wasn't enough. That alone surprised her.
She wanted more. She wanted the feel of his cheek against hers as they barely swayed along to the music filtering from his stereo. She wanted that odd sense of contentment that stole over her as she watched him move around his kitchen with the same ease he displayed out in the field or in an interrogation room.
She wanted, and she shouldn't.
So lost in thought was Brennan that she gasped and nearly jumped when she felt an arm slip around her waist.
"Easy, Bones," Booth said, his breath stirring the hair next to her ear. "It's just me."
Heart still beating too fast, she reached down to push away Booth's arm. But he held on, tightening his grip and pressing himself even closer against her, the warmth of his body a sharp contrast to the frigid air pouring from the freezer. It unsettled her that he'd been able to creep up on her without her noticing him. How long had she been standing there, distracted by her wayward musings?
Booth's other arm came around her, and his large hand curved over her breast. Glancing down, she watched his thumb stroke her nipple through the fabric of the t-shirt -- making her conscious of the fact that she hadn't put her bra back on yet. The breath caught in her throat as he repeated the small motion. Instead of pushing him away as she knew she should, her hand tightened on his forearm. Her fingers seemed pale and fragile against his darker skin.
"You were gone so long I wondered what had happened to you," Booth said, and she felt the vibrations of the words seep from his chest into her back. "And here you are, staring into the freezer. Did you find some bones in there?" A note of amusement touched his voice.
"No," she said, trying to keep her voice brisk, "I was looking for the ice cream you wanted."
To her relief and consternation, he loosened his grasp on her and reached into the freezer. He pulled out a small cardboard carton and triumphantly waved it in front of her face. "See? Ice cream."
Shoving it out of her way, she moved away from the refrigerator. Booth shut the freezer door and pulled open a drawer. Silverware tinkled as he rummaged. Finally, he slid the drawer shut and held two spoons aloft, a wide grin splitting his face. In spite of the confusing thoughts whirling through Brennan's mind, she found herself smiling at his rather victorious expression. Without question, Booth appreciated simple pleasures. She liked that about him.
She liked many things about him.
He was still naked, she noted with more interest than she would have liked.
"You stole my shirt," Booth said, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head in her direction.
"I was cold," she said, shrugging. She reached for the hem. "Do you want it back?"
"Nah. It looks good on you." He winked, a grin curving his lips, and transferred the spoons to his other hand. Tucking the ice cream and spoons against his bare chest, he reached out to her, his hand brushing her bottom. She retreated a step. If he noticed, he didn't comment.
That in itself didn't mean anything. He had noticed. He must have. Booth easily read minute body language cues; she'd come to appreciate that that was part of what made him such a skilled agent.
Still, he let it pass without comment. But never one to be deterred, Booth flattened his hand against the small of her back and nudged her ahead of him, out of the kitchen, switching the light off behind them.
When they stepped back into Booth's bedroom, she paused. Booth simply moved past her and climbed into his bed. Arms crossed over her chest, Brennan stood in the doorway and watched as he grabbed both pillows and sat them up against the headboard. That done, he readjusted the blanket over himself. With what seemed like a sigh of satisfaction, he finally sat back. He glanced at her from across the room, one eyebrow raised. "You coming?"
"I don't know, Booth," she said, tightening her arms and shaking her head. "Perhaps I should go."
"Go where?" he asked, eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side.
"Aw, come on, Bones. I wasn't that bad, was I?" His tone was light, but she wasn't so blind that she didn't catch the flash of uncertainty in his face.
He was her friend, her partner. A good man. She didn't want to hurt him. The thought of him hurting made her stomach twist, just as it had when she'd cradled his damaged foot in her hands and recalled what the cool blue-white of his x-rays had told her. "Bad? No. Not at all," she replied, her voice a touch softer than she wanted it to be. "That was... You... were very good," she said, unaccountably warmed by the way his expression cleared, the uncertainty replaced by the cocksure smile to which she was far more accustomed.
"I know I was. I don't need you to tell me that." With a wink, he pulled the lid off the ice cream and dug his spoon into the container. A lusty sigh issued from his lips as he slid the spoon into his mouth. Eyes closed, he said, "If you want some of this, you'd better hurry." His eyes slid open, and he shot her a pointed glance. "Chocolate chip cookie dough. I might just eat it all myself."
Rolling her eyes, she uncrossed her arms and left her post in the doorway to join Booth on the bed. Along the way, she snapped up her bra from where it lay haphazardly on the floor, intending to put it on.
"There's no point in putting that back on right now," Booth said, waving his spoon at her.
"Why do you say that?"
A slow smile inched across his face, causing her to shiver. "Because I'm just going to take it off again."
"Booth, I told you this would only happen once."
Booth licked his lips before answering. "You and I both know that's not true."
"We had sex once, and it was good. That's enough for me." No, it's not. Ruthlessly, she shoved the thought aside.
"Liar," he said, voice flat and without affect.
Anger stiffened her spine. "Oh, so because I don't say what you want to hear, now I'm a liar?"
"No." He lifted his head and met her gaze directly, a challenge glinting in his dark eyes. "You're a liar because you're lying," he said, drawing out the last word.
"All right, I think it's time for me to go." Not caring that he would see everything, she pulled his shirt over her head and tossed it at him. He ignored it, letting it fall near his hip without comment. His eyes seemed focused on her breasts.
As she pulled one strap of her bra up and over her arm, Booth rose and stalked toward her. She took an involuntary step back. Booth took advantage of her hesitation and caught the bra in his hand, sliding it down and off. Without looking away from her, he tossed the bra over his shoulder.
She gasped. "I need to get dressed."
"You don't really want to leave right now."
"How do you know that?" she asked, setting her hands on her hips.
"I can see it in your face," he said, one hand rising to cup her cheek and the other floating to her hip and pulling her against him. Her own hands drifted to his chest. His skin was warm where it touched hers; she fought to keep her eyes open. He swept his thumb over her bottom lip, and a sigh tumbled out before she could catch it. A ghost of a smile flickered over his face. Damn him; he had her and he knew it. Releasing her so suddenly that her legs trembled, he stepped back and held his hand out to her. "Please. Come back to bed."
Eyes locked on Booth's outstretched hand, she said, "We need to talk."
"I know." He nodded. "And we will. But for tonight, just be with me."
Part of her wanted to go, to leave Booth's apartment and return to the safety and familiarity of her own. But as her gaze shifted from Booth's hand to his eyes, searching for something she couldn't name, Brennan found that she couldn't make herself leave. Not yet. Holding her breath, she ignored Booth's hand -- and walked unaided to his bed.
Without speaking, they both slid under the blanket. Silence reigned except for the sound of their breath. Their knees bumped as she crossed her legs Indian-style.
"Lie back," Booth said, his breath misting across her shoulder as he traced a gentle finger over the swell of her breast.
With great effort, she kept her voice steady. "The refractory period for a man of your age isn't that short."
"Speak English, Bones," he said, a hint of amusement limning his voice.
"You can't possibly be ready to go again," she said bluntly, turning her head to look at him.
Booth cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Maybe not." He picked up the container of ice cream from where it sat on his nightstand. "But you can."
Author's Note: Many, many sincere thanks to anyone who's still reading this. If you have a minute, I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter.