Four Ways He Almost Gives Himself Away (And One Time It Doesn't Matter)

Warning: Spoilers through the end of Season Two.

A/N: This is a companion piece to Four Things She Can't Remember (And One She Can).

originally posted to LiveJournal, 10/28/2007

1. Exchanging Keys

He carries them around in his pocket for three weeks, worrying them with his fingertips so often that the metal is constantly warm to the touch. He keeps thinking that the Right Moment will come, that the rest of the conversation will unfold easily like the rest of their banter. In his head, it goes something like this:

"Booth, can I have my spare keys back?"

"Sure."

"These aren't mine... these are yours."

"Is that my phone? Sorry, gotta go, important FBI business."

It's sad that he can't even be cool about it in his imagination.

So in the end he deliberately paints himself into a corner, sliding them onto her keyring while she's busy examining a set of x-rays with Zack, so that he'll be forced to explain. But then the phone really does ring, and it really is important FBI business, and by the time he even thinks about keys again it's to wonder whether he could use Bones's spare set to just crash on her couch, because it's three in the morning and the extra twenty-five minutes to his apartment seems like forever.

He goes home, despite the drive. When he shows at the Jeffersonian the next morning, gritty-eyed and groggy and in the mood for anything other than giving Bones an explanation, she just smiles and presses a cup of coffee into his hand.

2. Dating

He has a First Date Shirt (baby-soft black cotton turtleneck), a First Date Restaurant (Pizza Paradiso at Dupont Circle), a First Date Mixed CD for his car (though he had to redo it recently; Hot Blooded has too many connotations now to be just another favorite track).

But his normal approach is ill-suited to a relationship that's already more intimate than those he's had with half of the women he has seen naked. Because it's already gone beyond the stage where he thinks up activities based on what she'll like, what will impress her (although he does sometimes find himself thinking, when he hears about a new restaurant or an event at one of the Smithsonian museums, that it's something she would enjoy). Instead, they've become each other's default person. She still has Angela, of course, but Angela has Hodgins, and while it's obvious that Angela loves Tempe to pieces and vice versa, it's a family kind of love - I don't get you and sometimes I think you might be insane, but you're mine and you always will be.

So instead it's Bones and Booth, Saturday nights, calling each other up because there's something they don't want to do alone. And okay, yes, there are times when he thinks she's crazy for thinking that the Tuvan throat-singing demonstration is more fun than the Van Halen concert they went to last month, but the more evident it becomes that Bones is deep and mysterious to him, the more determined he becomes to get to the bottom of her.

And at this point, he doubts the black turtleneck will help.

3. Saying 'I Love You'

He feels his heart drop into his gut the second the words are out of his mouth. Instantly he's in full defensive mode - pretend he's talking to someone else in the room? Blame it on a television in the background? Bad connection?

But she's already disconnecting, and all of his excuses trip over each other like a ten-car pileup. He breathes into the mouthpiece, hard and fast, not even a dial tone on the other end to swallow up the pounding in his ears. He thinks she said it first - he's almost certain - but it's so uncharacteristic that he can't imagine it's the first time, which means that he has slipped up before. That he's slipping.

And over the days and weeks and months that follow, she says it, and he says it, and gradually that panicfearanxiety doesn't burn so sharply. But in its place is a hollow ache,impatiencedesirefrustration, because they're speaking the same words, but he doubts they're saying the same thing.

4. Meeting the Parents

It's not that he was exactly harboring some kind of made-for-TV-movie fantasy about asking her parents for their daughter's hand in marriage, except when he was. But it breaks his heart to see her mother's face in the Angelator, and not just because it means Bones's own dreams will never come true. When he meets her father - even after he finds out it's him - the prospects of having that conversation in a way that doesn't involve double-thick glass and a prison-issue telephone seem slim.

The first time she's there with his parents, she's asleep, passed out against his good shoulder on the hospital bed. He wakes up to see his mom lowering a camera, then looks over to see that he's taken Bones's hand in his sleep, fingers threaded together lightly on top of the covers.

"What'd you do that for?" he asks, aggravated as a soft whisper will allow.

"So maybe you'll realize you don't have to keep waking up alone," she whispers back. He starts to protest, but Bones shifts slightly beside him like she might wake and his parents back towards the door, mouthing "we'll be back soon."

And when he sees the print a week later, he knows that while he may not need that neatly resolved Hollywood happy ending, he needs to end up with her, one way or another.

1. The First Kiss

He knows he was ready for it, had been ready for it since the first time she called him Agent Booth in that no-nonsense tone, lips pressing together in a terse bow. So he doesn't understand how he's taken so completely by surprise when he realizes that it's actually about to happen.

Maybe it's the stuffy plane air, the jet lag, that stifled feeling he still gets from civilian travel. Maybe it's the post-adrenaline crash that comes after cracking a big case. Whatever the cause, the last thing on his mind as he walks through the terminal is that this is the day he's been waiting for. And yet.

One minute he's walking past the luggage carousels, trying to clear his head; the next minute, he sees her, and it's-

Clear. All of it. Each soft curve of her hair, the delicate line of her jaw, and mostly, that there's no good reason for him to have waited this long. Yes she says just before he presses his mouth to hers, drawing her body close, holding on. His carry-on has been abandoned somewhere behind him, his suitcase being slowly trolleyed back into the bowels of the airport, but in front of him is Temperance, in front of him and in his arms and kissing him, and he thinks, This one was worth waiting for.