I was on the London Underground last night during rush hour. Usually its an unpleasant experience, but with this rolling around my head it became much more enjoyable!
Just a fun angsty one shot.
The train swayed rhythmically as it moved through the darkened tunnel. Around them, nobody spoke: Commuters read newspapers, students studied, tourists examined maps watching the station names roll by. Every-so-often the train lurched this way, or that; the mass of people moving as one with the flow.
No seats left, they'd been forced to stand: Brennan leant against a pole, while Booth stood facing her, arms raised to grasp a ceiling handle. The air was warm and humid, stale with the odour of people, food, and sweat combined. Their bodies had grown closer and closer with each influx of new passengers onto the train, with barely inches separating them now.
The wheels screeched and the train juddered sharply; he fell onto her, pushing her back against the bar. He shuffled backwards as far as the crowd would allow, though still close enough that he blushed at the invasion to her personal space. His head fell, nervous to catch her gaze.
The carriage lurched again and Booth found himself thrown against her body before he could react. Flustered, he stepped back again, bumping into the man behind him. Looking up, he saw her looking at him; she smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
The overhead lighting flickered as they rounded a corner, the swarm moving as one with the train. Releasing her death grip on the pole, she moved one hand to gently rest on his hip. She was supporting him, he reasoned, it didn't mean anything.
Again the train swayed erratically and his stomach met hers. Booth muttered something under his breath, hating this form of transportation even more than that damned red Mini! Moving away from her, a reflex by now, he felt her hand grip harder at his hip, holding him against her. His eyes met hers in confusion as the train slowed to stop at the next station.
"It's okay." He barely caught her words over the rumble of the train, not daring to believe he'd heard right.
Lining up against the platform, the train stopped sharply. Despite having braced for the impact, Booth already knew he'd end up making contact with some inappropriate portion of her body: his chest ultimately bumping hers, her grip on his back helping close the distance. He didn't pull back this time, her eyes confirming to him that this was not totally unwanted attention.
Gazing deep into his eyes, she brought her head forwards, forehead resting against his.
"It's okay, Booth." She told him again before placing a gentle kiss against his lips. Startled, Booth leaned his head back and watched as she smiled at him again.
Another lurch of the train brought his lips back to hers, hand letting go of the overhead rail to cup her face. He lent his weight against her, seemingly designed to match the contours of her body. They moved as one as the train continued to rock.
Her lips parted and his tongue cautiously poked through, his fingers grasping at her back.
"The next stop is Westminster. Change here for the District and Circle Lines. Exit here for Westminster Abbey." The announcement rang through the carriage as the train slowed again.
She moved her hand to his stomach, pushing against him. Pulling herself away from his lips, she spoke:
"This is our stop." Booth stepped back, breathless and speechless, as she stepped off the train as if nothing had happened.
Don't hate me, lol