Title: Waking
Author: crearealidad
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None really
Summary: Bones before dawn…before a case
Word Count: 763
Disclaimer: Not mine. These characters belong to FOX, the creators of the show, and of course the real people who play them.
Authors Note: I'm brand-spankin' new in the world of Bones fic, but well into my eighth year of the addiction known as fan-fic writing. And of course, I always welcome feedback. Finally, this may be Part 1/?
The knocking wakes her. Three heavy raps on the door and she rolls onto her side with long stretch. She tries to open her eyes and focus on the clock on her nightstand, but then she drives her hands under her pillow to cradle her head and lets sleep slide back up over her. A little yawn spreads her lips before the knocking breaks back into her room. She snaps upright, shoves the heavy comforter down around her ankles, and glares at the clock that's telling her that it is not yet dawn.
A bigger yawn takes her over as she pulls her feet around to meet the cool floor. The fist is now banging loudly against her door, sending her muscles twitching at such a rude interruption. She looks down at her own chest and closes her eyes, watching herself only a few hours earlier pulling a thin cotton tank top over her bare breasts. Then she'd stepped into a pair of loose tap pants, whose drawstring she hadn't bothered to tie. Glancing around her bedroom, she remembers that her robe was hanging in the bathroom and that knocking was growing to be near deafening. With a weary shake of her head, she pushes herself up from the bed and shuffles carefully through her darkened apartment towards the door.
A slim line of light and the sound of her own name being called are slipping under the door along with the rapid thuds of an impatient man's determination. She pauses for a moment, leaning back towards her bed, before reaching to retract the deadbolt and pull open the door.
When the door swings in, he stops immediately, and all either of them can do is look. He is fully dressed and there are still pillow lines creased into her cheeks. She blinks slowly and he looks away, suddenly aware of the darkness that creeps out from her space. Clearing her throat, she tries to speak but only a hoarse hello manages to escape the hold of sleep.
"There's a case—"
She waves a hand at him, turning away from the door and walking back into the darkness. An invitation is grumbled and he steps inside, just far enough to allow the door to close. From somewhere beyond the light, water runs for a few moments then shuts off, and in the silence he could hear soft slurps and gulps, followed by a long sigh. He moves away from the door to stand near her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Bones, I'm sorry okay? I tried to call your cell, but—"
Then he felt her head leaning back against his shoulder and the rest of words just got stuck. She turns a bit until he could feel the warmth of her cheek through his suit jacket. "It's okay, Booth, just… give me a minute, please." The hand on her shoulder squeezes slightly, pulling her whole body in closer.
She shivers, the replay of pulling her thin pajamas on just before sliding under the cocoon of blankets flashing along her skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps for his fingers to feel rising. His hand slides down her upper arms to sooth the raised skin, but instead only ignites them, chasing them down her spine, leaving behind a tingling chill. Ducking her chin down, she lets her nose push against the lapel of his jacket for a few minutes, making closer contact with the warmth of his chest. "I'll go get dressed. Get my things together. Then we can get going," she whispers, still muffled by the proximity of him.
He nods and watches her step away, letting the chilly morning air return to its place around him. She walks away from him, flipping a switch as she leaves the kitchen area, spreading warm light throughout the space. One strap of her top has fallen from its place on her shoulder and the loose pants have ridden down to the lowest edge of her hip and between there is a small strip of skin.
Abruptly she stops, turns, and finds his gaze following her hips. When his eyes rise to meet her own, there's a long pause and her lips open, waiting to see if he is going to speak. When he didn't move, her fingertips hook into the waistband of her pants and tug them up slightly and quickly tie off the drawstring to hold them in place. She licks her lips, then asks, "Is there time for me to shower?"
"Sure, Bones. I'll just wait on the couch."
