I bear sole responsibility for these fics, for better or for worse. Criticism is welcome.
Bones was asleep at her desk. Grinning, Booth set down two cups and tiptoed forward. He tickled her nose with strands of her hair.
Within seconds, Bones pinned him to the floor. Stunned, Booth blinked up at her.
"Booth?" She removed her hands from his windpipe.
"Don't sneak up on me."
They stood, Booth rubbing his rear.
"And to think I brought you coffee," he muttered.
"Sorry," she replied, sounding anything but.
He waited till she’d raised the steaming cup to her lips. "You drool in your sleep."
"I do not."
Bones swiped a hand over her mouth; Booth smirked.
Booth forked one last bit of apple pie into his mouth before leaning back against the booth. Sid made the best apple pie in DC. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a light, flaky crust that went down easy with a cold glass of milk. Eyes closed, Booth patted his hands over his stomach and heaved a contented sigh. When he opened his eyes, he found Bones watching him, a small smile playing about her face. As their eyes locked and Bones realized he'd caught her watching him, her lips firmed and a slight vertical crease appeared between her dark eyebrows.
"If you continue to eat like that, you'll get fat."
Predictably, whenever she felt uncomfortable with him, she went on the offensive. Booth flashed her his best charm smile -- the one she didn't yet realize he saved for just her. "Aww, Bones. I didn't know you cared."
"I don't." Temperance shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "But you may have difficulty chasing down suspects if you have an excessive amount of abdominal adipose tissue." She paused before going in for the kill. "Perhaps you should give me a gun. Then I can defend myself properly, and you can consume as much apple pie as you like." It was a perfectly rational argument.
"Don't you worry about my abs. I work out, eat my vegetables, and drink my milk. I'm not getting a gut. A little dessert never hurt anyone." Sitting up straight, Booth narrowed his eyes at his partner. He pointed his right index finger at her. "And no gun for you. That's why you have me."
Bones rolled her eyes and pouted.
"Trust me, you're in good hands." Booth leaned forward, extending his right arm toward Bones. "Feel," he said.
Booth sighed. "My guns."
Bones' eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "You're carrying more than one gun, but you won't even let me have one?"
"No, no, no. Feel my guns," he replied, inclining his head toward his arm.
"I don't know what that means."
"My bicep, Bones. Feel it."
"This is so juvenile," she complained, her blue-gray eyes narrowed in irritation.
"I get it. You're scared." Booth nodded sagely and pulled his arm back. The urge to tease her, just to watch her puff up with righteous indignation was too strong to resist. "If you touch me, you might have to admit you're attracted you to me."
For just a moment, he worried that she was going to poke him in the eyes like she had done to Benoit, back in New Orleans. But if he knew Bones, she wouldn't be able to resist his challenge. He was right. She huffed and leaned across the table toward him, chin raised and expression outraged. "I am not scared." Her left hand hovered over his right arm. "And I am definitely not attracted to you."
With that, her hand came to rest on his right bicep. The heat of her skin swiftly penetrated the thin fabric of his dress shirt, as he'd abandoned his suit jacket on the booth next to him long ago. Booth suppressed a shiver as the simple touch reverberated through him. Then Bones' grip tightened slightly as she squeezed his arm. His muscles tensed in response, but he otherwise remained still.
His gaze slid down to where her hand lay on his arm and then up to her face, which was dangerously close to his. Close enough that he caught the faint scent of the red wine she'd been drinking, as her warm breath fanned across his face. He revised his opinion; there was nothing simple about the touch. Nothing simple about Bones. Nothing simple about the emotions he saw swirling in the depths of her eyes before he broke the moment. They were poised on the razor edge of a cliff. She wasn't ready to jump off. Hell, maybe he wasn't either. "Careful Bones, you're drooling."
She snorted and released his arm, sitting back down. Clearing her throat, she said, "While I will admit you have decent musculature, it's not that impressive." Once again her eyes were opaque and shuttered. Only the light pink flush still staining her otherwise pale cheeks hinted at what he'd glimpsed in her eyes just a moment ago.
Disappointment arced through him at her literal and figurative retreat. But then he realized how lucky he was to be allowed even that tiny glimpse into her. There had been a lot of those glimpses lately, he silently reminded himself. He would never forget the way she'd clung to him after he'd rescued her from Kenton in that dingy warehouse. Or the way her eyes had danced when she'd admitted that she really should be nicer to him. The pure, unguarded warmth of her smile in that moment had made his breath catch.
Remembering it, Booth smiled. Nodding once, he slid out of the booth and stood. He fished a couple bills out of his wallet and laid them on the table. Bones protested, but he silenced her with one finger pressed lightly against her lips. "I've got it. There's a new Mexican place I've been wanting to try. You can take me to lunch there next week."
Bones laughed and let him take her hand to help her out of the booth. "Oh, you mean you'll pay tonight, and I get to pay for lunch at the very expensive restaurant that just opened."
"Hey, I'm all for equality, Bones," he replied. Booth slung his jacket over his shoulder and called goodbye to Sid as he and Bones left Wong Foo's. Sid's smooth chuckle followed them as they stepped out through the doors and into the warm July night.
Summary: Many fics in many fandoms have been written in response to the Five things that never happened challenge. This is just my small, Bones/Booth-centric contribution. Part I is set at the end of Two Bodies in the Lab Season 1, Episode 15.
Disclaimers: Please don't sue me; neither Bones nor the characters belong to me.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Part I: Truth is a Whisper
The black and white movie they had been watching on tv had ended hours ago. They moved on to Superman after that. Booth insisted they watch all the way through after he learned she had never made it to the end. When she had peppered him with snide comments about the ridiculousness of no one being able to recognize that Superman and Clark Kent were the same person simply because one wore glasses and suits and the other wore a form-fitting blue and red costume and no glasses, he had muttered something about suspension of disbelief, rolled his eyes, and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding into her mouth. The cloying sweetness had made her teeth ache. A glance at the plastic hospital-issue pitcher had found it empty, so she left the room to get some water.
Booth was asleep when she returned. She tiptoed toward his hospital bed. "Booth," she whispered. No response but deep, even breathing. His eyes moved back and forth beneath the thin skin of his eyelids; he must be in REM sleep. She wondered what he was dreaming about. Her lips turned down in a frown as she looked over his face, neck, and bare chest. Cuts, contusions, and several burns -- all caused by the explosion in her kitchen.
His face should have been relaxed in sleep. Instead, fine lines bracketed his mouth, giving voice to pain he would never admit feeling while awake. She'd expect nothing less from an alpha male. She leaned forward but caught herself before she gave in to the irrational need to press her lips to the tiny spot of chocolate pudding by the left corner of his mouth. One quiet inhalation and she was surrounded by his scent. Chocolate, smoke, and the faded remnant of his cologne. The mixture of scents hit her hard, leaving her slightly dizzy. She felt as if she'd had several glasses of wine on an empty stomach. But she was completely sober. The stress of the past 24 hours must finally have caught up with her. Yes, that had to be it.
Temperance stifled a yawn and decided it was time to go home, even though she had the strangest urge to climb into the bed with Booth and watch him sleep. She contented herself with a brief touch to his hair. It was mussed and ruffled instead of being carefully gelled in place as it usually was. The rough silk of his hair beneath her fingers reassured her somehow, just as his arms around her had reassured her that she was safe from Kenton and his slavering dogs. She backed away and turned to leave. One final glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was definitely asleep. A blush crept over her cheeks. If he woke to find her petting him like he was an overgrown cat, she'd never live it down.
She silently slipped out of the room, missing Booth's quiet sigh and the way his lips curved up in a tiny smile.
Part II: "The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves."
Though they had both agreed it was a mistake, that hadn't stopped them from repeating it again and again. Each time they finished, he silently swore it was the last time. But it was never enough to satisfy him for very long. The hunger was a constant torment. Her eyes were brown instead of blue, and her hair was black instead of red-brown.
It wasn't enough.
One night she dragged him to dinner instead of back to her apartment.
"Cam, I'm not looking for a relationship," he warned.
"Relax, it's just dinner." She smiled, dimple flashing. "We're not picking out China."
An hour and a half later, they left Mimo's, stomachs full of deep dish pizza. By this time his jacket had come off and his sleeves were rolled up over his forearms. They went back to the Jeffersonian so she could pick up a report she said she left in Bones' office earlier that day. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, so he waited outside her office until Cam grabbed his tie and tugged him inside with her. One more sharp tug and they were standing face-to-face in Bones' office. He made a move to leave. She pulled him in for a kiss that tasted of tomato sauce and questions he couldn't answer.
The sound of a throat clearing shattered the moment and they both looked up. Brennan stood in the doorway, labcoat draped over her arm and her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders.
"Oh." A quick twitch of her lips. "I'll come back."
The words lacked any inflection, but Booth watched her face and caught the quicksilver change of expression. Booth wasn't a squint, but he considered himself an observant man. There was a subtle shift; he noticed the slight narrowing of her eyes and firming of her lips. Both were a dead giveaway that she'd reached some conclusion. He just wasn't sure what conclusion she'd reached. He'd spent just about two years with her in the field and in the lab. Sometimes, when a new set of bones was brought in and Temperance had assembled them on one of the Jeffersonian's many examination tables, her eyes would sweep over them, ceasing only once she'd reached a conclusion. She would watch the bones, and Booth, Booth would watch her.
Cold. Dispassionate. All words he would once have used to describe his partner.
All the wrong words.
Her passion for truth equaled his hunger for redemption. Sometimes, he found himself painfully hard during those silent moments when she examined scraps of bone in her never-ending search for an ever-shifting truth. The first half-dozen times it had happened, he hadn't known what to make of it. Understanding eventually dawned -- the diamond-hard intensity of her focus hit him right in the gut -- and elsewhere. When she raised her eyes to his, Booth made sure to have a sly quip ready -- more to distract himself than to irritate her.
"No, stay, Dr. Brennan. I just came by to grab these." Cam waved the stack of papers in her hands. "Seeley and I were just leaving." She strode toward the doorway and glanced back at him, head tilted to the side. "Seeley?"
He gave a tiny shake of his head. "Good night, Cam," he said.
"Good night, Booth, Dr. Brennan."
Booth watched as Cam slipped past Brennan, listened as the click of her heels faded away. He slid both hands into his pockets and angled his head toward Bones' office couch. "You want to sit for a minute?" He silently cursed himself for the embarrassment that had turned his voice low. Uncomfortable, he waited for her to sit down before he took his place beside her. "Listen, Bones--"
"You could have told me you were in a relationship with Cam. I thought that, as partners, we should share information like that. I told you when I was seeing David and then Will--"
"Whoa. Hold on there a minute, Bones. Who said anything about a relationship? Me and Cam--"
"Well, I did walk in on the two of you kissing."
"Yeah, about that... Uh, sorry. But still...No relationship there." It seemed important that he convince her of that fact. Why, he didn't know.
Brennan nodded, and her lips curved in a smile that gave him the distinct impression that she was laughing at him. "So what you're saying is that you're having sex with Dr. Saroyan, but you're not in a relationship."
"Sex? Who said anything about sex?"
"Booth, you're starting to repeat yourself. Look," she said and gave him that patient look that told him he wasn't going to like whatever she said next. "I realize that you're a devout Catholic and may have some discomfort about sex--"
He cut in. "Hey, I'll have you know I haven't gotten any complaints about my sexuality."
Brennan continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "...But I assure you that the biological urges that led you to sleep with Cam are normal and nothing to be embarrassed about. Humans have a need for sex -- for the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact and the cascade of hormones that accompany orgasm."
He couldn't help the groan that escaped at her words. He sent up a fervent prayer. Please don't let her say anything else.
"I need it, and apparently you do, too," Bones said.
Clearly no one upstairs was listening. A sudden visual of Bones "needing it" flashed into Booth's mind and he covered his eyes. "For the love of...Please. No more."
Finally, he moved his hands and dared to sneak a peek at his partner. "So you're ok with.." He gestured vaguely with his hands.
"With you having sex with my boss?" She shrugged her shoulders, the picture of nonchalance. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
The fact that Brennan wasn't even slightly bothered by the thought of him and Cam didn't sit right with him. "So you're not even the tiniest bit..."
"What?" she asked. There was something in her face, something about the way she looked him in the eyes and then quickly glanced away.
But Booth couldn't say anything more without revealing something he wasn't even ready to admit to himself yet. "Nothing, Bones. Just, never mind." A glance at his watch confirmed that it was late. "Come on, I'll walk you out."
Brennan stood and moved toward the doorway. Booth waited a few moments before standing and following her out, his eyes glued to the gentle sway of his partner's hips. It was going to be a long night.
What Would Happen If We Kissed?
A/N: I know that the writers for the show aren't going to let Bones and Booth get together anytime soon. That said, I think they ooze sexual tension, and I would like to see some of that explored. And I think that Temperance has a practical enough attitude about sex that she just might be willing to call Booth out on what she thinks is happening between them. Whether she understands exactly what that is, well, only time will tell. :)
Temperance Brennan couldn't sleep. She had tried a number of techniques -- a glass of warm milk, a hot shower, even a CD of Gregorian chants. Sleep remained elusive. With a sigh of frustration, she punched her pillow before tossing it off the bed and sitting up. In the dark emptiness of her bedroom, she could admit it -- she was sexually frustrated. It wasn't diffuse frustration, either. No, her unfulfilled desire centered on one maddening FBI agent whose crooked grins and outrageous quips simultaneously made her want to kiss him and slap him.
The small, discreet touches were driving her insane. Booth's hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of a room, the brush of his fingers against her shoulders as he helped her put on her coat... Those gestures made her skin prickle and warm until she marveled that she didn't burst into flames. The scientist in her recognized that spontaneous human combustion was scientifically unsubstantiated and highly improbable. But the woman in her wondered.
The woman in her had long since realized just how well Booth was structured -- and wondered how they might fit together. Too much time spent wondering about that could be distracting, which could be fatal in their line of work. Could it be that the only rational thing to do was to sleep with Booth? Yes, perhaps just once. They were both adults; surely this was the answer. The physical release should be enough to dim her curiosity. Then they could go back to being partners, without any distractions.
She knew that he found her at least somewhat physically attractive. His glance had been decidedly appreciative when she'd pulled that wad of bills from her cleavage in Las Vegas.
But she wouldn't know for sure unless she asked.
To be continued...Chapter 1: Every Problem Has a Solution
Brennan brushed her teeth, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. Pink tinged her cheeks. Not surprising, given that she'd just been fantasizing about Booth and his...structure. The fantasies had stolen her sleep one too many nights. She had to do something.
After rinsing her mouth, she removed the elastic band that held her hair up in a loose ponytail. She bent at the waist and hung her head for a moment, fluffing her hair. One pair of jeans, one foil-wrapped condom, and two swipes of deodorant later and she was ready to face her partner.
The ride to Booth's was quiet. She met few other cars on the road; all the bars had closed at 2:00. As she pulled up in front of Booth's apartment complex, 3:15 flashed fluorescent green on the instrument panel of her car. She exited her car, taking care to not slam the door and shatter the early morning stillness. The cool September air washed over her and she shivered, wishing she'd remembered to grab her windbreaker.
Taking a deep breath, Brennan rapped on Booth's door and then rang the bell. Despite the distinct chill, her hands were moist. She wiped them on her jeans and waited. When nothing but the sound of small insects reached her ears, she turned to leave. Perhaps she should just go home. If she still wasn't able to sleep, she'd shower and head into the Jeffersonian early. There was always more work to be done.
But she had gone only a few steps when she heard a door open behind her.
The silk and sandpaper of Booth's voice rasped against her in a nearly tangible caress. It was too late to escape. She slowly turned to face him. "Good morning, Booth," she replied, forcing her voice to remain even. The sight that met her eyes made that a difficult task.
Booth's dark brown hair stood up in spikes that radiated from his head like a deranged halo. Not that she was religious. And her thoughts were anything but pure as she drank him in with her eyes. He was shirtless. She watched in fascination as his nipples pebbled in reaction to the cold.
"What's wrong? Is everything ok?" He yawned and reached up to rub the back of his neck. The motion made the muscles in his arms and chest flex in a very interesting fashion.
"I'm fine. Why did you take so long to answer the door?" she asked, the question clearly a complaint. "I would have thought your Ranger training would make you a light sleeper."
His only response was a pointed glare. Then he stepped outside, his feet bare, and wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Man, it's cold out here."
She glanced down at his chest. "Yes, it appears to be, since your nipples are erect," she stated.
"Hey! Enough with the staring at my nipples," he said as he tugged her into his apartment.
Brennan allowed Booth to lead her inside, observing how his long, warm, male fingers encompassed her entire wrist. Her pulse pounded in response.
Booth loosened his grasp on her, and it was then that Brennan noticed what was in his right hand.
"I didn't come here to murder you in your sleep," she said with a smile, pointing at the FBI issue SW99 pistol Booth had just set down on the hallway table.
"You can never be too careful, Bones."
"Or too paranoid," she muttered.
He glanced up. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she replied. "Did I wake you?" she asked, changing the subject and hoping to buy herself some time to order her thoughts.
Booth huffed and rolled his eyes. "It's after 3:00 in the morning," he said. "Of course you woke me." His gaze swept her face, sharpening as it lingered on her eyes. "Have you been drinking?"
"What? No, I have notbeen drinking."
"Well I know you didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood. So 'fess up. Why are you here?"
The moment of truth had arrived. What had seemed like a perfectly logical and persuasive argument back at her apartment seemed much less so now that she was seated next to her half-naked partner. Could she really tell him that she wanted him? She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I...That is...Remember when I mentioned how helpless we higher primates are to our biological--" The words lodged in her throat and she dissolved into a coughing fit.
Booth rose from the couch. "Hang on, I'll get you a glass of water."
Brennan concentrated on getting her breathing under control, be she couldn't help taking a peek at Booth's retreating figure. The thin grey cotton of his pajama pants clung lovingly to his backside and suggested that he wasn't wearing any underwear. That observation nearly sent her into another round of coughing.
She was nearly composed by the time Booth returned from the kitchen, bearing two glasses of water. He handed her one. The strong curve of his shoulder was pure temptation; she barely resisted the urge to nip him.
"Here. Drink." He watched her silently, eyes dark and impenetrable, until she'd finished half the glass and set it down on the coffee table. "Better?"
"Yes, thank you." She looked down at the couch and traced a small circle in the cushion. "I couldn't sleep."
"I know. And I think I know why you're here."
"You do?" she asked.
"Yeah. And it's ok. I understand."
"Really? I wasn't sure you would, but then I decided I should just discuss it with you. You did say that partners share things..."
"It builds trust," he said with a sage nod. "So talk to me." He reached out and covered one of her hands with one of his. "I know you miss Russ and your dad." His voice pitched low, making her stomach clench. "You haven't said much about it, and it's been weeks since they left, but I know it was tough for you to watch them leave you behind again. I see the dark circles," he said, releasing her hand only to run a finger lightly underneath her left eye and then her right.
The gentle touch sent a shudder through her. She pulled back and looked up at him with a frown. "No. That's not why I'm here. That's not what I want to talk to you about."
"It's not? Then why are you here?"
"Yes, I do miss Russ and Dad. But I'm not meant to have a normal family," she said, hating herself for the sadness she heard in her own voice. "I came here to talk about you...and me."
Booth leaned back and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms over his chest in what appeared to be a defensive posture, if the book she'd been reading about body language was to be believed. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes. There is a problem. I haven't been sleeping lately. And I'm concerned that it's starting to affect my work. There's only one thing I can think to do about it."
"Hold on. Back up. Are you saying I'm keeping you awake at night?"
"Yes. You." She stood up and started to pace, clenching her fists in agitation. "You," she said, pointing her index finger at him, "are keeping me up, and it has to stop. I told you, we higher primates are helpless to our biological urges. The physical release, the connection -- we all need it. If we do it, if we have sex..." She heard Booth make a choking sound. "...just once, maybe that will be enough. We're both adults, and we're friends. We can be mature about this." Her pacing led her to one end of the living room. She turned and reversed her direction, stopping in front of Booth. "Well?" Brennan quirked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
She watched as Booth's mouth opened and closed a few times and a red flush appeared high on his cheeks. "Bones, are you telling me you're here for a booty call?" he said.
To be continued...***
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