Author's Note: Just a bit of drabble that wouldn't leave me alone. My first Bones fic, so reviews are highly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with Bones, except the DVDs of season one.
"Ugh! This can't be happening again!" He groaned as she unlocked the door, setting their bags down on the floor. "Apparently both the universe and Angela are plotting against us."
"I don't know what that means." She replied with a slight frown. "However I must agree that something is going on here. Statistically it is impossible for every hotel we visit to only have a single room for us to use with one bed."
"You know, usually I don't buy into the whole 'the world is a rational, logical place' but I've got to agree with you here. It's not possible…" He trailed off,
That had been the conversation the first few times they'd been faced with such a situation, but now it was recited for nostalgic purposes only. By now it was almost expected that they would share the room, and the bed.
At night they would lie on their respective sides of the bed back to back. For a while they would talk, about the case, or their co-workers, or the job in general. Finally sleep found them, allowing their subconscious free rein. Morning would find them in each other's arms, though still fully clothed. Her head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped around her.
In the beginning this had rendered them silent for the remainder of the trip, only discussing the crime. But soon they realized that nothing had come of their nighttime activities, and so dismissed it as a need for comfort.
And in its own way, it was. Their time in those hotel rooms, on that one bed, provided more insight to their partnership and lives than a week of therapy.
He would never tell her, but on those nights there was no cosmic balance sheet, no Kosovo, no number 52. Corporal Parker had never died, Epps never existed, and his father had never taken that first drink.
She would never admit it, but she loved those nights. Because then her parents and brother had never abandoned her. There was no foster system, no spending two days in the trunk of a car, people didn't just leave her behind because she was too cold.
Soon this was the only place they could find peace, where their fears and disappointments didn't cloud their every move and haunt their every thought.
In time the hotel room became their own apartments, when a dreamless night was needed, especially after a hard day or difficult case.
Both were experts in their respective field, and yet it had taken four years for the Special Agent and the Forensic Anthropologist to realize what their subconscious-and Angela- had been telling them all along.
They were made for each other.
Yes, I know its incredibly cheesy, but oh well.