Don't hold it against me, but I think you're crazy.
You do, huh? Why's that?
Because you haven't tried to sleep with her yet.
What? No, man, it's not like that.
It would be for me. You have more self control than I do.
It wasn't self control. No, Seeley Booth was not delusional. It was fear—all consuming, paralyzing terror. He couldn't get too close. He'd seen what happened to friends, to partners, who got too close. He knew all too well how it could destroy people. How it could kill. He couldn't risk it, not with her. And though he knew that all of his colleagues thought him insane, he also knew if they were in his position, they wouldn't come through unscathed either. She wasn't the kind of girl you just slept with and maintained your composure, your hard façade. No, she was the kind of girl who nudged you with her elbow playfully and unintentionally melted your insides and turned you into a bumbling teenager with a hard on in the middle of science class. She was the kind of woman who was confident in her own skin, but at the same time, almost completely unaware of how truly gorgeous she is.
It wasn't self control. He knew that more than anyone, really. He kept telling himself, convincing himself, that there was an indelible line that could not be crossed. But he knew, if she made even a casual mention in the ballpark of being interested in him, he wouldn't hesitate. He would make her his own before she could even blink. It was more than just the fear of the potential dangers and risks their relationship would cause—it was the fear of rejection. It was the fear of losing his partner, his best friend. It was the sheer terror of facing even one day without her wide smile, her shining blue eyes, and her soft waves. It was the idea of being alone. He'd been single before—for long periods of time, even. But life without her would be different. It would be hell on earth. It would be torture. It wasn't self control. It was self denial.