The Pain in the Neck
Brennan sat up straighter, closing her eyes. She leaned her head against the back of the couch. Her neck ached from staring down at her paperwork for too long. She dropped her pen and attempted to stretch her stiff muscles. She swiveled her head around carefully, and surveyed the scene around her.
The coffee table was strewn with used plates, half-empty takeout boxes, and completely empty beer bottles. The paperwork that was indirectly causing her pain littered the table, the couch cushion to her left, and the floor. She looked to her right last. Booth was apparently not distracted by her sudden need to stretch. His pen continued to scratch across pages as he filled in details and signed his name over and over in his untidy handwriting. He was so focused, in fact, that she looked at him just slightly longer than she would normally allow herself to do. His tie and jacket had been discarded hours ago, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. His warm, dark eyes were focused downward on his task. His cheek showed the patchy shadows of a long day of work. His lips were slightly parted, his tongue sticking out in his intense concentration. The furrows on his forehead were further evidence of deep focus.
Booth could feel her penetratingly blue eyes studying his face. He tried to keep his head clear; he tried not to lose his focus. He tried not to think about how close she was to his side. He tried not to think about how comfortable this couch was. He tried not to think about those bright blue-grey eyes that still hadn't stopped staring at him. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He sighed and turned his head to meet her gaze.
"What's up, Bones?" he asked.
"The muscles in my neck have stiffened from prolonged immobility," she answered clinically.
"I know there's a ton of paperwork," Booth said. "It's a serial case; there's always a lot to do. You can go to bed if you want. I can handle the rest."
"No, I don't want to leave you with all this." Bones gestured to the large piles of paper. "Besides, I'm not tired. I just need you to palpate my upper posterior trapezius muscle."
"English, Bones," Booth requested, dropping his pen and leaning back into the couch.
"I need you to massage my neck."
"Bones, I don't know…" he began to protest.
"Please, Booth?" She turned the power of her pleading eyes on him. He imagined rubbing her neck with his strong hands. He would be happy to do it. He just wasn't sure if he could stop with her neck.
"Bones," he groaned, still objecting. A few more minutes of those eyes, though, and his resolve would be pretty much fried.
"Remember when I used to crack your back for you?" She was negotiating now.
"I remember the time you nearly paralyzed me," he shot back.
"That wasn't my fault. Please, Booth?" The pleading eyes were back again.
"Alright, Bones, I give." He sighed, and sat up on his couch cushion.
"Thank you." She turned her back towards him.
He took a deep breath as he placed his hands on her shoulders. He stopped thinking for a moment, and let his hands begin their careful work.
She sighed contentedly as his thumbs found the precise location of her tension almost immediately. She let out a quiet, involuntary moan of pleasure.
She reached up and let her hair out of its tight bun. The scent of her shampoo hit him like a wall of flowers and strawberries. It took almost all of his strength to keep himself from leaning forward, burying his nose in her soft auburn locks.
"Don't stop, Booth," she begged as his hands slowed down slightly.
"I'm not," he replied, focusing on his hands instead of her hair. "But you know we do have to finish this paperwork at some point."
"Eventually, yes," Bones responded softly. She leaned backwards slightly. The strawberry-flowers wall hit Booth in the face again.
"Sheesh, Bones," he muttered, too quietly for her to hear.
"What?" she asked. Not as quiet as he thought.
"Nothing," he recovered. "Your hair smells good. That's all." Massive understatement, he thought.
"Thank you," she answered tentatively. She wondered how long he would continue kneading her muscles so skillfully, before he insisted that they return to their work. Perhaps he would continue to her shoulders, her back, her waist. She sighed at these possibilities.
"How're you doing, Bones?" Booth asked after a few minutes of silence. "Feeling any better?"
"It feels wonderful," she answered. "You are very skilled at giving massages."
"Thanks," he replied. "Can we go back to paperwork now?" He was warring with the impulse to lean down and press his lips to her neck. He knew he couldn't last through much more of this.
"Yes," she sighed. She turned to face the coffee table again. Her neck felt oddly cold without his warm hands. "Let's get back to work."
A/N: So that's just a moment of cuteness that popped into my head a while ago. For the timeframe I'm thinking sometime mid-season 4 (I know there are some other time nuts out there like me who like to know these things). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did (or didn't) let me know by leaving me a nice review, pretty please. Reviews make me very happy. [Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, Booth, a Porsche, or a pony. But a girl can dream.]