Hello again! Trying to get back into writing again after being swept up in a frenzy commonly known as life. Choosing A-Levels atm and MAJOR amounts of revision for exams which sucks. So this isn't my favourite thing I've written, but I had to write something for the beautiful start to the season. Thank you, Hart & co. *worships*
Disclaimer: At the moment, I don't particularly want to own them because I wouldn't want to change ANYTHING about the last few episodes which are hopefully *crosses fingers* just a glimpse of the awesomeness that will be continued throughout this season.
PS. HANDS UP WHO THINKS BB MIGHT BE TOGETHER BY END OF SEASON?!
***
As he turns back to her he wonders if she feels the same shift he does.
(So by raising my pollex at approximately a ninety degree angle, I somehow communicate a feeling of approval?
Yes, Bones, exactly. )
His confidence in them is renewed, increased tenfold, something shattered by that look she gave him after his "I've got you, baby" but before the not exactly helpfully timed clown, not to mention the swift (and abrupt) appearance of a certain large-fore-headed boss's boss in her personal life.
He is certain that one day they will live a life better than that in his dream, because he will be Booth and her, Bones, not two fictional constructs born from desperation. He is not forever destined to relive that dream, which now brings a strange nostalgia and only serves to heighten his longing for her.
One day, they will be, he is told. Angela's psychic, Gordon Gordon, Sweets. Yes, she would scoff and say that psychology is a soft science and perhaps blow a raspberry at the idea, but he has more than these people's opinions. He feels something odd, deep in the pit of his stomach. Something which has nothing to do with the dissipating nervousness at the thought he might not pass his recertification. A segment of the definition of love, along with faith and hope and passion, this is something that Bones's -endorphins and hormones released from the part of the brain that is stimulated by physical attraction- will never be able to explain.
And as she looks at him with -a feeling of approval, and yes, pride and maybe a little relief there too because she never wants to give this life she has now up ever, even though she knows that one day she will have to because... entropy and- that feeling in the pit of his stomach spreads throughout his body and as he turns back to her his smile is a little more intense than it ever has been and the sparkle in his eyes -caused by dilated pupils due to a strong sense of arousal- a little brighter. And only ever for her.
By now, she easily attunes to his emotional responses and responds with a grin and a "What?"
"Oh, nothing. Just, y'know. Happy that I passed."
"Of course, I never doubted you. See, you've still got it." She echoes her words from last week and he knows that this is her way of telling him that she trusts and has faith, baby in him.
"Yeah, I've still got it. Wanna celebrate?"
She pauses, her smile sliding into an adorable expression of confusion he has become all too happily accustomed to over the years.
"It's seven in the morning Booth. I'm sure social etiquette usually suggests that it's too early for alcohol at this time."
He continues to grin at her while his heart cries out for more, more, more and there's a strategic piece of hair floating out of place by her cheek and if he could just sweep it out of the way maybe he could survive a few more weeks while he waits for her and-
"There are other ways to celebrate, Bones."
"Yes, I'm well aware of that. Some ancient African tribes used to sacrifice animals to the gods as a form of celebration for a successful harvest. Although, I'm sure that wasn't what you meant either."
"Yeah, I was thinking we'd skip the whole animal sacrifice bit for breakfast."
"That would be a much better idea. Though, if you look at things from a different perspective one might think eating bacon or sausages for breakfast would be the equivalent to sacrificing a pig despite it being for your personal hunger and not spiritual nourishment."
He just smiles at her, in that disarming way he's so good at.
"What?" She repeats, even though somewhere recognises that look from years ago, when her family was whole and her parents both alive and happy and loving each other.
"Come on Bones. Let's go sacrifice a few animals."
He slips his hand to its resting place at that spot on her lower back, a habit that neither seems to notice anymore.
As they exit the shooting range be a cop pops into his head and he shakes it off. At this moment, they are not FBI-Special-Agent-Seeley-Booth-and-this-here-is-Dr.-Temperance-Brennan-of-the-Jeffersonian-Institute-with-three-doctorates-thank-you-very-much.
He is Booth and she, Bones and later, when he unconsciously slips his hand into hers while they are bickering over their choice of breakfast-
(Pie? For breakfast? I'm sure that's not recommended for your health.
Yeah, well, we're celebrating. Who celebrates with muesli?
I happen to like muesli for breakfast, no matter whether it's an event of festivity or not. And it's much healthier than cooked fruit and high amounts of concentrated sugar.
Well, I like pie Bones, okay?)
- it feels... natural yet new and exciting and though she blushes and he looks slightly nervous at this small step neither pulls away and that's what matters, right?
She softly laughs at something he's said and though he knows that it's cliché it's one of the most beautiful sounds in the world and he thinks that he's going to need to catch a lot more murderers if this gift of her presence is being noted down on that cosmic balance sheet.
He loves her, he knows that. And one day he'll be able to tuck that piece of hair behind her ear.
Oh yeah, he knows. He's just told that he has to wait.
And waiting, with her, for her, really isn't bad. At all.
***
Read and review, please
Yes, that's a personal favour. Which, as Booth says, you can't back down from.