This tiny little fic is in response to the famous ongoing meme at LJ. The prompt for this was: What if Bones and Booth kissed at the Museum, in 'A Night At The Bones Museum'? I thought that would be such a special moment, and in my current wubby emotional state, wrote out a quickie fic. I hope you enjoy it!
AND IN YOUR TOUCH I FEEL MYSELF
He was so quiet. Not outwardly - he was talking as if everything was normal, but she'd felt a shift just recently. Like an explosion that was much too far away to hear. A silent rending of the very air. She watched him carefully, unable to determine anything apart from the fact that he was watching her carefully. With the caution of one whose awareness had been exponentially expanded, she avoided mentioning anything that she thought might upset him. He seemed reserved. Like he was waiting for something.
Hands in pockets, he edged closer, asking her about his boss with the oddest expression in his eyes. As if he was protecting himself from a blow. Andrew was the last person she wanted to think about now. Fighting a sudden flare of shyness, she repeated his words of the other day back to him. Telling him the best she could that she agreed with him. That there were some moments between them that no one else should know. That it was a lesson she'd had to learn, but that she was an excellent student. When he stepped yet closer in response, she knew without a doubt that it was one of those moments.
The audience was waiting for her; her coworkers were waiting for her. Everyone was waiting for her. None of them mattered. She stood as motionless as the mummies around her; as still and quiet as Meti and Anok, all of her attention focused on the man who had become so important to her. The man who had become everything to her.
When the touch finally came, it wasn't fast or rough or desperate. A single touch of a single finger on a single cheek. She moved closer, realizing at last that she wouldn't be turned away. That he would never let her down. That she would be safe with him. She'd protected her heart for so long, but it was time for her to trust again. Instead of wanting to run, the knowledge propelled her that last tiny inch to him.
His thumb dropped down, tracing her delicate collarbone almost reverentially. His eyes followed, as if he was unable to believe that she was there. Always the one who needed reassuring, she found herself reassuring him. Her hand settled gently on his, pressing close against her. She held his hand to her heart, looking up at him with everything she felt. When he tilted his head she reached for him, her lips trembling. But he rested his forehead on hers and simply looked at her, his breath mingling gently with hers. A shaking numbness overtook her legs. As if from a great distance she felt his palm pressing on her back, his fingers at once both hesitant and familiar. He'd placed his hand there so many times before, but it had never felt like this. No one had ever felt like this. When had it all changed? When had she begun to want the change?
She thought he was going to speak, but he touched his lips to hers, saying more than his words ever could. His mouth was warm, and softer than she remembered; softer than she had let herself remember. He tasted like mint. In the distance, applause came and went, laughter floated airily down the stairs. The time for her appearance came and went. He'd waited for her for so many years. She wouldn't make him wait anymore. Never again. The only air she needed was his. The only heart she needed was his. His hand moved to cradle her face as he tasted her, holding her so gently that she felt like fine crystal. She knew that was impossible. Fine crystal couldn't cry. But she also knew that this wonderful man had made so many impossible things happen.
She closed her tear-filled eyes and let herself feel like crystal.