Because I'm desperately in love with Bones and it's my soulmate, I wrote this for my present to the show's fans! Hope you all like it. Booth and Brennan and Angela all have different views on romance, love and Valentine's Day but Booth just loves to surprise even Brennan. Nothing in this fic belongs to me, Fox has the show, characters etc etc and the song is someone else's whom I can't think of right now. Bad memory, me. Please read and review, it's certainly not a mushy one and the ending really is up to you so I hope you like it! One shot, no sequels or chapters.
Saint Valentine
Brennan rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Angela and Booth had taken it upon themselves to berate her for not acknowledging an abhorrent holiday. "I'm not acquiescing that romance as a concept is a bad thing, but you cannot say that the commercialisation of Valentine's Day has absolutely no meaning. To be romantic just one day of the year? It's a ridiculous concept as far as the mating patterns of humanity go. A female would need nothing more than biological urges to have sexual intercourse with a genetically well-bred male, there's no such thing as romance."
Angela's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Bren couldn't seriously be saying what she thought she was saying, "But it's the one day of the year when we as women get to be completely spoiled by the man in our life. You know, the whole chocolates and champagne and flowers thing is what Valentine's is for!" she grinned. Her office was decorated rather garishly in pink and red sparkles and love hearts.
Booth smiled at the two of them, trust her not to like Valentine's, "What, you've never been romanced before, Bones?"
"They try but I find the acceptance of gifts on a non-descript day very disconcerting. I feel as if I owe them something for buying me those things. I'd rather not have that pressure, thanks." She went back to collating the markers on a skull.
"Bren, we spend all our time surrounded by death and murderers, please, can you not just forget you're a rational person and get into the romantic spirit?" Angela was almost begging now, her eyes pleading with Booth for help.
Bones adjusted the marker on the skull, "I actually admire your resilience, Ange, not many women would let their affection, physical and emotional, be bought with cheap chocolate and glitter glue."
Booth couldn't help himself and burst out laughing, "Oh that was a good one for you, Bones! Who knew you'd be that quick witted?"
"It's not wit, Booth, it's simply honesty. Whichever way I perceive this 'holiday', I cannot escape the fact that the men basically buy the women gifts so they'll have sex with them."
"You are totally wrong, Bren, you have no idea." Angela smiled sweetly, "Romance is like knowing what a person needs and wants and knowing them well enough to guess. Like Hodgins and I are going for a walk on the beach to look at the stars so I can sketch the heavens."
Brennan furrowed her brow, "Surely the night sky is just black with stars that have long been burning, just dots in the sky." She ripped off her gloves, "I think the markers are finished but be careful with that cranial fracture, Hodgins needs to analyse the dirt inside it when you're done."
Brennan escaped quickly into her office, knowing that she was bound to get hunted down by Angela soon enough. Her persistence in this matter was the same every year previously and Brennan had never seen the merit in celebrating a holiday that saw red roses go up in price five hundred percent. Bones had always deemed romance and Valentine's to be for people whose affection and attention could be bought with ridiculous, extravagant gifts. Slumping down on her couch, Brennan studied the photos on their case. It was hard to believe in romance when she saw so many battered women on her table, murdered husbands and wives who had been caught being unfaithful and had been killed for it. It seemed stupid for one person to place so much trust and emotional vulnerability in one person, irrational and illogical to trust anyone that much. Too much trust in one being and she was always betrayed as they abandoned her and left. Why should a romantic attachment be deemed different? The day was long, tiresome and hot for a February 14th. She was stifling in her office, having taken off her lab coat and cardigan a long while ago in an attempt to be cooler. Now she had removed her shoes completely, leaving her feet barefoot and pleasingly caught in the air conditioning vent. Global warming was not a good thing when even the cardboard was melting.
*
Booth walked through the Jeffersonian gardens, the wonderful cold air that was around the flowers and plants helped cool him down. He had no like for hot weather in winter, especially somewhere like D.C. but this was the hand God had dealt them for the day. His jacket and tie had long been discarded back in Angela's office, surrounded by those pink fuzzy things she decorated her area in. Booth grinned as he let the sweet smell of flowers permeate him. Booth knew that Brennan was not letting Angela anywhere near her with something red in her hands unless it was a blood sample. Booth stared down as his feet had carried him to the strangest place for flowers this early in the season. Daffodils. Her favourite. Such a rational woman and yet she ranked her flowers by how she liked their look or smell. He knew why she liked them. They were unconventional, bright and recognisable. They reminded him of spring and new growth and beginnings from the gloom. It was no shock that she loved the sunshine golden flowers. It was nearly 3pm, getting towards the end of his day catching up with their evidence but he found that not many of them, apart from Bones, were getting any real work done. He didn't care; it was too hot, too close to their love lives for any real day to commence.
"Hey Studly, you better not be thinking of taking our orchids! The botany department will be after Booth-brains."
He didn't even turn around, "F.B.I, Angela, I can take a bunch of glorified florists any day," Booth smiled as she walked up to him, carrying her sketchpad and some kind of chalks. "You have plans for the plants, too?"
"Yes, Special Agent, but I thought I'd draw them than actually stare and think of Brennan." She set her tools on the bench behind him and grinned, "She's in her office, you know... all alone on a day like this, studying photos of victims. Not the most romantic of days."
Booth smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "Bones will never like Valentine's Angela, you berate her every year and you get the same response."
Angie groaned inwardly, "Look, if I didn't try, it would never be on her mind. If I just ignored it all, she'd just revert inward even more. I'm banking on the fact that her logic might lead her towards the 'love is real, get used to it' camp."
"Good luck with that one." Booth muttered, bending down the daffodils, "She's all alone, did you say?"
Angela's smile could have lit the universe.
*
The music drifted across her mind as she lay back on her couch. The humidity had finally caught up to her and she'd let her weary mind rest for a moment. Soft soothing tones of the singer's voice calmed her overactive mind and lulled her into nonchalance. Brennan had found her taste diverted to these huskier sounding songs, the rich quality from her sound system was very stimulating. She loved to just lay back and listen to what her iPod had to offer when she was relaxing. She didn't want the pounding drumbeat of rock music or the intellectual musical mine field of her jazz. Whale songs were for the bath. She could hear faint but solid footsteps from her front door and the creak of the glass as it was opened slowly. Of course her hearing was attuned to these particular footsteps and it was easily recognisable. "Hey Booth." She murmured from her place on the couch, hand flung behind her neck and eyes heavy.
She heard him come closer and smiled as he leant over the back of her couch, "Bones, Bones, Bones, never thought I'd see the day where you were slacking off. It's a miracle."
She grinned and laughed lightly, "I thought I deserved a rest, besides, my eyes were staring at those pictures for too long, my head was aching."
He loved to see her like that. Uninhibited. He'd half expected her to be squirreled away in a corner with a Q-tip and a bone fragment, daubing tiny amounts of water onto an abrasion. Her legs were stretched out over the other end, elegant bare feet dangling. Why she had chosen to wear a skirt today he'd never know but it was certainly a brilliant idea. Her long tapered legs disappeared beneath chocolate brown cotton that clung even in her prone position. The flimsy halter neck she wore was involved in some elaborate fantasies just staring at her with that smile on her lips. Maybe it was the music. Or the heat. Or just them. Booth stared at the contours of her sapphire eyes, "Hey, I got you something, Bones."
Bones stretched slightly as she sat up, twisting to stand, "It's not chocolate, is it? Really, those are terrible for your health and-"
Booth's eyes lit up as he managed to render the great Temperance Brennan speechless. "I hope you like it, I mean, I know you like daffodils but still..."
"It's beautiful," she grinned at him, bringing her a single perfect daffodil like this, at that time of year? There had to be only one place he could get such a thing, "You cut this from the gardens, didn't you?
He laughed, "Should have figured you'd know. That's it, I'm collared, you'd better throw me in with the jumpsuits before you get fingered too."
She looked genuinely confused, "I have absolutely no idea what you mean."
Booth grinned and caught the daffodil stem in her fingers. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Bones."
This was all so heady. Had the humidity increased or the air-con been switched off? Why did she suddenly feel very, very hot? The song faded and her eyes danced as another came on, "Oh I love this one. My mother and father danced to this in the kitchen all the time before I was put in the system," she swayed lightly, keeping her eyes on the single flower.
He suddenly said it, no remittance, "Dance with me."
She seemed to think before he laid the flower on the sofa and took her hand in his. His palm smoothed down her spine until it came to rest at her lower back. She kept her eyes on his as they swayed and twirled slowly together to the slow, gravelly beat....
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.
It's not warm when she's away.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away...
They were close. So close. She could feel every nerve ending sparking with electricity through every capillary and vein and artery blood flowed faster, her heart pounding in her rib cage. He did something to her, their breaths mingled at the music played on and on. They were mountains colliding, hurricanes blowing and it was sensual. She rested her forehead hesitantly on top of his and looked down before glancing at his dark eyes.....
Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone,
But ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
Only darkness every day.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
And this house just ain't no home....
His breath was quicker. He could smell her, she surrounded him. Bones. The name reverberated in his head and everything overwhelmed him. It was deep and sweet and dark and sexual but he couldn't stop, could never stop loving this woman. Booth tightened his grip on her lower back and broke their skin apart. He leant in closer. Now or never? Wrong or right? Felt so strong, couldn't resist. Didn't want to. "Temperance..." he managed to whisper...
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away....
It was gravity. A force so great that neither could pull away. It was just close, so close as the song ended and their lips were a hair's fraction from an eternity.
Anytime she goes away.
A/N: Care to leave me some nice words and tell me whether you think they kissed? Or just any words would be nice! Thank you!