A/N: First Bones fic. Post ep for Con Man in the Meth Lab.
Disclaimer: Bones is not mine. I'll take Booth though, if anyone is selling him.
She thought he was a loser.
There's no getting around it, he thinks bitterly. He'd demanded a response and she hadn't given him one. After years of a partnership that was more meaningful to him than any other relationship he'd ever had, all it had taken was a few hours with his brother for her to lose faith in him.
He should have expected it really. Jared always ended up with everything. Why shouldn't he take Bones as well?
He shifts on the bench, sighing heavily. Because Bones didn't belong to anybody, that was why, and least of all him. She'd kick his ass if she knew that the word 'mine' frequently bounced around his head when it came to her. And ok, Jared didn't exactly have her, but he'd charmed her enough to make her doubt him, and it cut far deeper than he would ever admit.
She'd given a speech though. A highly metaphorical speech yes, which was so very unlike her, but a speech nonetheless. Admitting that anthropology could sometimes be wrong was even more unlike her, and Booth understood what it meant to have her say that, when anthropology was her life. He understood the gravity of her apology, and he had acknowledged it, a warmth settling in his stomach at the thought of what she'd said.
But it still didn't change the fact that she'd thought he was a loser. And her getting shot was just the icing on the cake. Because it proved that she was right, that he wasn't good enough to protect her, like he should be.
And now he is sitting on a bench, while other people enjoy his birthday party and he wallows in his own misery. His brother is inside, making a good start on becoming an alcoholic like their father, and his partner…
His partner is walking towards him with a plate of cake in hand.
In her usual blunt and slightly awkward way, she wants to know if she can join him, and he lets her, because he never can say no to her when she's looking at him like that.
They eat the cake, Bones cradling the plate awkwardly with her good arm. Booth turns his attention briefly back to his party, where his brother was trying his best to get himself hammered. And he thinks that maybe Bones thought he was a loser because he'd never told her enough about himself to contradict the statement. He knew all about her childhood, had made her open up to him even when she didn't want to. And he'd never returned the favour.
"My dad drank."
The words pop out of his mouth before he realises what he is saying, and he looks up to see Bones looking at him with those big blue eyes. She clearly has no idea what to do with the statement. Recklessly, he plunges ahead.
"It wasn't so bad at first. He'd apologise if he hurt any of us, while he was drinking. Would say it was an accident. But it…he…" he stammers, not sure how to carry on. "The more he drank the worse it got."
He doesn't want to elaborate. He's sure Bones will get the drift.
"You protected Jared," she states simply, and he nods, looking at the floor.
"He always got into so much trouble," he says ruefully. "But I was bigger than him, older. I could take it. And I didn't want him to hurt my mom either."
Bones shifts closer, her voice soft and compassionate. "You took the pain, to keep your family safe."
He shrugs. "I had to. I'd hide Jared in the wardrobe every time my dad went on a rampage. If I hadn't protected him he never would have been able to take it."
He risks a glance at her. Her eyes are a soft, pale blue, and her hair flutters slightly with a breeze that sails past. The way she's looking at him makes his pulse speed up.
Why does she have to be so beautiful?
"You're a good man, Booth," she says, tilting her head slightly.
His eyes flicker to the sling on her arm before darting away, to land again on the floor. "Not good enough," he mutters.
She gets up suddenly, and for one wild moment he thinks she is just going to leave, but then she starts pacing in front of him, moving as briskly as she usually does, but not going anywhere.
"Bones?" he asks, confused, and she whirls to face him suddenly, eyes blazing.
"Why are you doing this?" she demands.
"Doing what?" he asks, utterly lost at her sudden change in mood.
"This! Why are you blaming yourself, putting yourself down? Why are you even talking to me? I should be on my knees right now, begging your forgiveness because of how I hurt you, Booth, and I wouldn't deserve forgiveness even if you gave it to me."
Her eyes are shining, and he realises with a start that she is near tears. He stands and moves closer, but she takes a hasty step back.
"Look, even now, you're going to try and comfort me. I deserve every bit of guilt I feel right now. I believed what Jared told me about you without even a shred of evidence to prove his words were fact. I never believe anything without evidence. I made a mistake, and I'm going to remember exactly what I've done for the rest of my life because I deserve to pay for it."
Her voice is ringing with such conviction that he feels himself taking a step closer before his brain registers that he's moving. And suddenly, the fact that she thought he was a loser pales into insignificance in the weight of her guilt. Because she cares, more than he'd ever realised, and although she made a mistake, she's standing in front of him right now, her eyes shimmering with tears and he realises that it doesn't matter.
Suddenly she grabs him by the shirt and pulls him forward forcefully, and he's reminded of how unexpectedly strong she is when she forces his head down so that it is on level with hers.
"You listen to me," she demands, her face so close that he can feel her breath on his lips. "You are a good man, Booth." She steps closer, and he sees a tear fall. "And you're not a loser," she whispers.
He can't think and his body is suddenly warm everywhere. This woman, this incredible, one of a kind woman is standing close enough to touch and telling him the things he's always wanted to hear from her, and right in that moment he believes her.
He kisses her before he can change his mind, before he can talk himself out of it. And she must have expected it because she is with him instantly, her mouth open and hot against his, her fingers curling against his shirt. He tastes cake on her tongue and presses closer, and the soft sound she makes against his mouth travels all through his body and makes him dizzy. One hand comes around to the small of her back, and the other tangles in her hair.
She is so soft and utterly responsive that he knows if this goes on any longer, he won't be able to stop himself. His legs feel rubbery and he's running out of oxygen so he forces himself to slow the kiss, finally pulling away. His forehead rests against hers and he closes his eyes, breathing heavily.
They are silent for a long time, until finally she pulls away, resting her head against his shoulder and wrapping her good arm around his waist. He holds her, careful of her injury.
"I think we need to talk about this ridiculous line of yours," she says quietly, and he laughs shakily.
"I think you're right."