OMG! More fluff? WHAT? That's crazy! I know.
Brennan sat cross-legged in the grass, her white dress pooled around her, her head tilted back towards the sky. She knew Angela would have a heart attack when she saw the grass stains, but in that moment, it was hard to care. She needed a minute by herself, a moment to unwind and gather her thoughts.
As she scanned the night sky, filled with stars that winked and blinked down at her, she thought of those endless, humid nights in the jungle when she would step outside and look at the moon and take comfort in the fact that it was his moon two. At least they still shared that, she would think to herself, even if she hadn't heard his voice in weeks or seen his face in months. She knew it was irrational to be soothed by such a vague, unquantifiable thing as sharing the moon, but in those twelve months that she had spent away from him, those three hundred and sixty five days in which she had hoped to grow apart from him, reestablish herself without him, the only things that made her feel whole were those that she shared with him. Letters, emails, the moon. Whatever piece of him she could find. If anything, her rationality had only slipped further in her time apart from him. She found herself crying in the middle of the night for no other reason than that she missed him. She found herself rereading his letters over and over, tracing his words with her fingertip, hearing his voice in her mind, low and rough and soothing, telling her it would be okay.
That first time she saw him by the reflecting pool, when he wrapped her in his arms and told her he'd missed her, she'd realized how deeply in love with him she was. It had taken her a while to tell him, but she had known and she was grateful. It felt like freedom, this revelation. It felt like freedom and grace and comfort. And now here she was in a white dress, waiting for him to come and find her just because he missed her and wanted to hold her.
She heard his footsteps before she heard his voice, and turned to see him striding towards her across the grass, barefooted and grinning. "There you are," he said. "I've been looking for you."
"Well, here I am," she said as he came to a stop in front of her. She tilted her head back so she could see his face, let her eyes run from his bare feet to his rolled up sleeves to his crooked tie and rakish grin.
"Come back inside," he said. "I want to dance with my wife."
She smiled and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms. "I'm not your wife, Booth," she said.
"Then who was that beautiful woman I just married?" he asked as his arms slipped around her waist, his hand settling against the small of her back.
She laughed softly, her hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. "That beautiful woman was me. The woman who agreed to commit herself to you as long as you never called her your wife."
"Oh, right," he murmured. "I remember now."
"You're very forgetful lately," she said.
"I blame the heat."
"It's April."
"I blame you."
She smiled and kissed him. "I can live with that."
He grinned and pulled her closer. Pressed his lips to hers. Kissed her deeply. She responded quickly, instinctively, rocking onto her toes and parting her lips. She kissed him like she had many times before and felt her body respond to his touch like it always had, right from the beginning. Felt the warmth in the pit of her stomach, the shiver scooting up her back as he trailed his fingers along her spine. She tilted her head to the side, moaned softly as his tongue traced her lips, tasted the champagne on his breath.
He groaned softly as she pressed herself against him, her fingers trailing through his hair, her lips trailing along his jaw. With each kiss, each taste, he felt his body begin to respond and he suddenly wished that he could just lay her down in the grass and have his way with her. His wish began to verge on need when she shifted her hips against him and smiled against his mouth as if to let him know she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
"Bones," he breathed raggedly. "Bones…"
She sighed softly, her hands trailing across his chest. She felt restless in his arms and he knew that she was having just as much trouble controlling herself as he was. "I want you," she told him.
He tightened his arms around her. She had an amazing ability to reduce his self control to that of a horny teenager. "God, Bones, you're killing me," he said.
"Let's go home," she said.
He pulled back slightly so that he could see her face more clearly. "I want to," he murmured. "You have no idea how much."
"Then why can't we?" she asked.
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her flushed face. Tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Because we haven't had our first dance."
"First dance? As what?"
"As husband and wife." She gave him a look of warning and he rushed to amend his statement. "As…newly committed partners in life."
She smiled. "Much better."
—BB—
"Booth," Angela scolded. "I told you to go find her not throw her up against a tree for a nice sex break."
"We were not having sex, Angela," Brennan informed her.
Angela narrowed her eyes at them. "Then why is there lipstick all over his face?" she asked.
Brennan smiled and glanced at Booth who was rapidly turning a shade of pink that matched her lipstick nicely. "We just…kissed a little."
"AKA made out for ten minutes," Angela said, a sigh in her voice.
Booth shrugged, looking like a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "We may have gotten a little carried away."
"Uh-huh."
"But we're here now," he continued, "and ready for our first dance."
Angela smiled and reached out to wipe a smear of lipstick off his cheek. "Fine. You're forgiven." She stepped aside and ushered them towards the dance floor. "Everything's all set. Go to it."
Booth reached down and found Brennan's hand, slipping his fingers between hers. "Ready?" he asked, bent close to her ear.
She nodded and moved into his arms. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her closer as the first strains of music filled the air. She rested her hand against his shoulder as he lifted their joined hands and rested them against his chest. "This is nice," she said softly, relaxing against him.
"Yeah," he said softly. "It is."
She smiled and leaned her head on his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair and breathed in deeply, his eyes sliding shut as the smell that meant comfort and home and Bones filled his lungs.
He had been to war before. He had watched children die. He had killed people. He still had nightmares. He would jolt awake in the middle of the night with flashes of desert and blood and gunfire stirring in his mind like ghosts. He was a haunted man and the only time he ever felt at peace anymore was when she was in his arms, when he could feel her body, soft and warm and alive against his.
He glanced down at her face and found her eyes closed, a small smile gracing her lips. "You falling asleep on me, Bones?" he asked.
She shook her head, but kept her eyes closed. "Just a little tired."
"Yeah, well you've been 'just a little tired' for a few days now. Are you coming down with something?"
She shook her head again and lifted her head from his chest. Met his gaze. "I'm fine, Booth," she said, smiling. "Actually, I'm more than fine."
He smiled too, his brow furrowing slightly. "What does that mean?"
"It means…" She trailed off and was quiet for a moment, her eyes bright and blue and lovely. "It means I'm pregnant."
"What?" he breathed. His voice was soft and filled with wonder. "You're pregnant?" She nodded. "You're having my baby?" She nodded again. "Oh, my God, Bones…"
"Are you happy?"
"Are you kidding?" he said, laughing. "I'm thrilled. I'm ecstatic. I'm overjoyed."
She grinned. "You do realize that those all mean the same thing."
He laughed, his arms tightening around her. "This is so not the time for a grammar lesson, Bones."
"You know I can't help myself."
He nodded. "I know," he told her and his voice was suddenly soft.
She looked up at him and saw him watching her, his eyes dark and full. Her smile faded. Her face relaxed into a look of peace. "I love you," she told him.
"I love you, too," he promised.
—BB—
He undressed her slowly. He always did.
He turned her in his arms and drew her back against his chest. Ran his hands down her sides and over her stomach before unzipping her dress. She leaned back against him as it slid to the ground, pooling around her feet in a satin-white puddle. He kissed her neck and she felt the softness of his lips and the scratch of his stubble.
"You're beautiful," he told her in that familiar, rough voice that meant desire.
She turned to face him. Unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside. "So are you," she said as she ran her fingers over his toned stomach and upwards, smoothing her hands across his broad chest.
He smiled and pushed her backwards toward the bed, but she resisted. "Wait," she murmured, slipping out of his arms. "I have something for you."
She backed away from him with a mischievous grin and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing only moments later in a black slip dress. She walked over to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached up and tugged her hair free from its bun so that it tumbled around her shoulders in auburn waves. Took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. "More things to take off," he mumbled, running his hands across the silky material.
"You know I like to make you work for it," she teased.
He chuckled softly and lay back against the bed, pulling her down with him. She stretched her body against his. Sighed softly at the warmth of him and the friction of their bodies. "You saved me," he whispered into her lips. "Did you know that?"
"You saved me," she said.
He smiled and kissed her and slipped his hand under the hem of her dress. Trailed his fingers across her bare skin. "I guess we'll be okay," he said. He touched her cheek. "I guess we'll be happy."
She nodded. Sighed and arched against him. "I guess we will."
Ah! I love them! So this piece was a total guilty pleasure to write. I basically sat down with a goal to write a one-shot with as many adorable moments in it as possible. Hence the kissing, Angela scolding, commitment ceremony, dancing, baby confession, and smut. Well, smut light is more like it. LOL.
Hope ya'll liked reading the cuteness overload as much as I liked writing it. If you did, you could always let me know through this magical and wonderful and glorious thing called a review. If you did, that would be awesome. I love 'em.