Created November 2014 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts; Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings
This story, which is "caulking" of Season 4, is dedicated to my writer girl crush Covalent Bond. She owns one of my favorite theories about pre- and post- coma B&B. This series of one-shots is a reflection of my take on the Pre-Coma days.
Yup another new story. I've written about 24K words to this story already. I needed to start pushing it out (plus, it's for Chem). I promise to post Chap #2 of Kindling before Thursday though. Enjoy!
Yanks Not in the UK, as told by Edward Everett Horton
He could sense that the anthropologist was watching him.
He always could.
Usually, this particular quirk of hers amused and flattered him tremendously. But at this moment, he was tired and cranky.
He popped open his left eye.
Indeed, there she was, staring at him. Quickly she shifted her view as if she was looking beyond him. But it was too late.
Booth sighed. Without glancing away, he searched for the seatback button. "Okay Bones, what's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Brennan squirmed. Her expression barely hid her annoyance at being caught looking at him.
Again.
"Like what?" she defended with a squeak, causing him to chuckle. They hadn't spoken for almost forty minutes, and her voice possessed as much vocal stability as a pubescent boy.
"Thinky."
"Thinky?" she questioned dubiously.
"Yeah, Bones: thinky. Look, I can always tell when the hamsters are working overtime in that beautiful brain of yours. Something's on your mind."
Finally, he found the button and straightened his seat, resulting in a Bronx cheer from the passenger behind him. Neither partner paid any attention.
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "'Thinky' is not a real word, and I assure you that hamsters do not power my, your or any human being's brain, Booth. Where do you come up with these ideas? You don't teach Parker these things do you?"
"Don't try to professor your way out of this one, Dr. Brennan! I know when you want to talk but are afraid to talk about something. You obviously have had something on your mind, something bugging you even before we got on this God forsaken flight. C'mon, spill it."
"What is your evidence?" she sniffed.
He growled, his jaw and neck muscles tense with irritation. He knew her evasion tactics, and he also knew that he was defenseless from being sucked into her game.
"Fine! You elected to slum it back here in steerage with me…"
"Premium Economy." She corrected.
"Ha! Premium Economy! Do you really believe that there is such a thing, Bones? 'Premium Economy' doesn't strike you as tad bit of an oxymoron? Does anything about the food, the space, or the fine air back here feel 'premium' to you?"
Booth's spirited invective was cheered by neighboring passengers. Yet again, the pair remained clueless to their audience. Instead, Booth demonstrated the lack of "Premium Economy" leg room with a stretch of his limbs, only to be sideswiped by the passing beverage cart.
Sighing, he shook his head at his snickering partner. "Face it Bones, this here, is a whole different universe from the champagne, ice cream sundaes and temple massages in First Class, and you're a first class type of girl-"
"Woman" she corrected.
Sigh!
"Whatever! 'Woman'. A very exacting, exasperating woman sometimes, most of the times. But a first class woman, all the way."
She grinned smugly. "Thank you Booth. I accept your complimentary words as recognition of my superior tastes and intellect."
He rolled his eyes. "Pfff! Hold on there! Superior in intellect – maybe." He swept his fingers down her lapel, rubbing the fabric of her jacket between his thumb and forefinger. "But superior taste? Nah-uh! I don't buy off-the-rack like you do, Sister!"
Brennan slapped his invading fingers, failing to stifle a giggle. "They don't give temple massages in First Class."
He cracked a small grin, but he still, he was not in the mood for her prevarication. Whining, he tried again. "C'mon Bones. Out with it! I know you didn't pass on First Class just to stare at my devilishly handsome face! Look, I'm exhausted. I haven't seen my kid in three weeks, I haven't had a decent cup of coffee in two. I've been eating things so weird that even Hodgins wouldn't bite, and – let's face it – this was not the relaxing, fun trip we thought this would be."
"That's true." She agreed sadly.
Leaning his head back against the headrest, with his best puppy dog plea, he beseeched. "Look, all I want is to get a few hours of shut-eye before we land, okay Bones?"
"Okay." She responded, her voice still raspy.
He didn't believe her.
"Okay, but you said 'okay' about thirty minutes ago, and yet, here I am, still trying to get some sleep, but can't because I can feel your owly eyes boring into me!"
She pouted. "You think my eyes are owly?"
Oh for fuck's sake! This woman!
"Bones, you know very well that your eyes are big…like an owl's!" he defended. He continued, softening his tone. "But they're incredibly beautiful. You know that." He paused. "You know I love your eyes."
Her eyes rounded briefly, but then she bristled. "Your appreciation of my eyes is based upon the premium that our culture puts on eye color of a blue, green or gray hue-"
Well, then you are the jackpot, he thought as he lost himself in her eyes – sometimes gray, sometimes pale blue; warm blue right now. "Seriously Bones. Hodgins' eyes are way bluer than yours, but… I. Love. Your. Eyes." He punctuated, leaning in dangerously close to her with each point of emphasis.
A beat of silence pulsed between them as Brennan weighed his words.
She watched his eyes twinkle and dilate. Like clockwork – and against his better judgment – his eyes fell to her mouth.
Brennan's eyes soon reciprocated. She watched with fascination as his tongue swept his bottom lip. Silently, she peered back up to his darkening eyes briefly before returning to his mouth.
Here they were again.
To lean in or not to lean in: to Seeley Booth, this was his constant torment. The uncertainty of those last few centimeters between them caused him nothing but delicious agony. The man who had faced torture and death so many times over found this – the willpower to kiss, or not kiss Temperance Brennan again – the most difficult challenge he'd ever face.
The last time it happened, it was because she had kissed him. Certainly, he had been first to suggest it, but it was Bones who nuzzled her nose to his, willing his lips to hers.
She had made the move and he eagerly acquiesced to the he soft sweep of her lips against his…
…the exploring stroke of her tongue tangled with his own…
…the molding of her firm curves against his body...
…the sound of her quiet sighs encouraging his wandering hands…
…the feel of her delicate hand pressing into his chest…
…until she stole away into rain, into the night.
Their first kiss had been magic – heated, unguarded, hopeful, and terrifying – all at once.
A kiss that you tell your grandkids about.
At least the PG parts of it.
And here they were again.
In his weakest moments, Booth allowed himself the fantasy that, looking into her eyes, he could see his future. He also was certain that if he told her such a thing, she'd laugh in his face. Or worse yet, run away. Again.
Pursuing Temperance Brennan was the Monte Carlo equivalent of going "all in". Professionally, chasing her down had been his biggest gamble, and was paying off tenfold. Personally, he had fantasized about pushing in all of his chips, but he knew that neither of them could afford a place at the table…yet.
She's not ready.
It was this thought smacked him back into reality.
Shit.
He blinked, shaking away the incredible image of her finally in his arms. Sitting up slightly, he played off the moment with a grin and wink. She smiled nervously, confused by his abrupt recoil.
Booth sighed. Now he was tired, cranky and frustrated.
...And a little hopeless. Truth be told, Booth had a very small, but very sensitive layer of insecurity that convinced him that he didn't know how to initiate kissing her at all.
That last time, he had come 90% of the way, but she owned that last 10%. It was a metaphor that personified their entire partnership. He had "come ninety", but nothing between them was real until she came the last ten.
She kissed him.
She blackmailed him to become his partner.
She decided to return to the lab when Zack was away.
She had him forced to help her sacrifice herself to save her Max.
She owned him.
It terrified Booth, that one day, Temperance Brennan would figure out the 90/10 balance of their relationship, and he'd be done for, for good. In the meantime, he suffered in humble silence, wanting her but knowing that he may never have her. Willfully rationalizing that their partnership could be enough.
Until Bones decided that it wasn't enough. If she decided it.
He had been encouraged lately: she had shown signs of yield to his influence. More than ever before, she sought his nearness (if not his embrace) to help her deal with the emotional roller coaster of the past few months. He managed these fits and spurts of intimacy as honorably as he could. Although at times he thought he would burst for need of her, he understood that his was an enviable position. Seeley Booth had the tempestuous Dr. Temperance Brennan's trust – a treasure that she seemed to cherish far more than love.
Tim Sullivan and Max Keenan served as proof: love was not enough. Her emotional immaturity, her social awkwardness and her history of abandonment exposed nerves of her own. She needed a rock, and Seeley Booth was it. When Michael hurt her, Booth was there. When she almost died, Booth pulled her to safety. When she learned the truth of her mother, Booth was there. Sully left, Booth was there. Russ and Max left, Booth was there. Zack went astray, Booth was there. He was her partner, the one that she trusted with her life. There was no way he was gonna fuck that up.
Occasionally, Booth fantasized that – maybe – she both trusted and loved him. He knew that she had been attracted to him once. Hell, everything about her relationship Sully seemed like a trial run: a salt-of-the-Earth FBI guy. A good guy with demons. Sully even looked like Booth in a McConaughey-wannabe-Pitt way.
To Booth, romantically, all signs pointed to "perhaps".
But then he would remind himself that Bones wasn't "coming ten". He knew Temperance Brennan, she was fearless. If she wanted to come ten, she would come ten.
So obviously, she wasn't interested in him that way. Or so he thought.
If only he knew what she was really thinking….
….And what the thinky scientist was thinking at that exact moment was how to assess Booth's proximity. And what it indicated.
According to Angela Montenegro, Seeley Booth had a "tell".
She postulated that Booth couldn't help but be drawn to Brennan – well beyond the point of impropriety – when he was sleeping with other women:
When Booth was having sex, he was more flirty, attentive, and mischievous. Angela's theory was, that since his physical desire for her was being sated – albeit via a surrogate – he felt confident and more in control of his behavior around Brennan. As a result, he took full liberty to try and sexually frustrate her.
However:
When Booth was not having sex, he was more physically distant and far more chivalrous. Under these conditions, "the line" was the murkiest. Booth's fear of breaching the line was tied in part to his fear of his own worthiness, his fear of losing her as a partner, and also to his fear of succumbing to the fragility of the gamble itself.
At the core of Angela's theory was this: Booth wanted Brennan.
This idea intrigued and worried Brennan. Physically, she was completely drawn to Booth. But emotionally, that pestilence Sweets had highlighted various troubling points about Brennan's (and Booth's) emotional readiness. She was scared of the strong feelings that she felt for her partner. And worse yet, she was terrified of hurting the man who had earned her trust.
Plus, Brennan worried that his affections were solely fraternal.
After all, he had never pursued her romantically since that evening. That evening, when he enchanted her with one kiss. She stood by her decision to escape his arms that night and then felt justified when his pursuits thereafter were strictly professional.
As much as she would have welcomed his advances, they never came. And, instances (such as this) where she sensed the prospect of an advance: he never delivered. She knew that he was almost the textbook definition of an Alpha Male. If he had a biological urgency for her, he would have her.
But still, Temperance Brennan was not above being swayed by her friends, especially when she was intoxicated. So, one during one recent wine-soaked evening, Angela and Cam (hereto for to be known as the Drunk Girl law firm of Montenegro and Saroyan) goaded their "client" to admit to her attraction to her partner. Brennan's big brother protests were summarily dismissed and resulted in Counsel providing their client with (in their minds) brilliant instruction: they advised Brennan that she and Booth go away together somewhere.
According to her advisors, "getting out of town together" would remove the constraints of Booth and Brennan's professional roles (and any perceived "he's like my brother" bullshit). The Law Firm of Montenegro and Saroyan was convinced that B & B's distance from their partnership would render their pursuits: uninhibited.
The prospect of it made both Angela and Cam giddy, and damn it, if the lot of them didn't need a win. The entire team: they were all feeling a little exposed and needy after what had just happened with Zack. If anything good could come from misery of the past six weeks, Temperance Brennan lowering her drawbridge to Seeley Booth was an outcome they all could celebrate.
And truth be told, given the Zack situation, Brennan needed time to regroup, and for reasons that she did not understand, not being with Booth – in any way – during this time was not an option.
And so, when Booth casually mentioned his invitation to audit a sister agency, Brennan immediately capitalized on the opportunity. She arranged to coincide a few meetings with colleagues with the time that he planned to be in London.
What a serendipitous opportunity: "get away" with Booth without the constraints of their everyday roles. To Brennan, the outcome of this exercise was a win-win: either she would (once and for all) triumphantly prove to her best friend and her boss that Booth did not consider her a romantic pursuit…
…or she would successfully seduce him, resulting in what she expected would be a holiday filled with carnal debauchery.
Win-win.
She revealed her true plans to no one. She believed her "ruse" to be beyond questioning. Having traveled in the past with other friends, she didn't understand everyone's fuss when she announced her intention to accompany him on his trip. With the exception of Angela and Cam (who spiritedly approved her itinerary), Brennan was perplexed by the many raised eyebrows – including Booth's, but especially Sweets – when she announced her intentions. With separate flights out and separate hotels coordinated, Brennan believed the true objective of her trip was well-cloaked.
As the trip grew nearer, the prospect of its preferred outcomes excited her. She had planned several events and costumes during the trip to provoke his interest. Having worked with him for a long as she had, Brennan had cataloged several attributes signature to Booth's romantic proclivities, and she was very eager to monitor his reactions to what she had planned.
She felt that her experiment was well-reasoned. At best, she would finally get to have sex with Booth. At the very least, she could report back to her friends that she was indeed correct about Booth's position on their relationship.
But none of her plans came to fruition. It was not meant to be.
The Boobies happened.
And Cate Pritchard.
And Ian Wexler.
At this moment, it had been Ian who was on her mind before Booth distracted her with his closeness.
Ian and Vera.
"My eyes? I'm just the benefactor of genetics." She mumbled under her breath as she straightened.
"I know Bones" he said cheerfully, though seemingly a little disappointed by her retreat. "And for that, I have a very warm place in my heart for your mother and Max."
Booth grinned, watching her fight away a shy smile and a snicker.
Were it anyone else, such egregious compliments would be met with snap derision or a haughty "yes, I know". But Seeley Booth enjoyed special status – Temperance Brennan allowed his approbation, even welcomed it. However niggling, he always found a way to put her at ease.
Even if only to get her to share the troubling thoughts on her mind. A storm of unwelcome emotions that she had neatly compartmentalized had been shaken loose. Booth could see the anguish rise up in her.
He put his crankiness on pause, because he could see it: Bones was finally ready to share.
"Vera killed Ian." She stated bluntly. "For years, they worked together, shared goals and objectives. He shared his knowledge and experience with her. And she killed him."
Brennan offered no further words.
Booth sighed. He hated this. He hated to see the fragility in the woman who could, without hesitation, kill to protect him. He wanted to frame her beautiful face with his hands and kiss her softly. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. He wanted to whisper words of encouragement as he pressed his lips to her cheek.
More than anything, he always wanted to be the one to take care of her.
But she was his partner. And there was a line.
At least I'm here for her. He thought.
So he played the role that she let him.
He placed his hand on top of hers on the armrest.
"Bones, no. You are not Ian. Vera is not Zack. Don't do that to yourself."
"But Booth-"
"No, Bones. No. Look, I know the headline 'forensic anthropology student betrays mentor to a murderous outcome' hits way too close to home, I get it. But that's as far as the similarities go. Zack would never purposely hurt you. He loves you, he respects you. He's got some real problems, some real shit to deal with Bones, but one of them was not his commitment to you or to science."
He scooped her comparatively tiny hand into his. "Vera was only thinking about the money and protecting her career. She didn't give a damn about Ian, really. And let me be clear. Ian Wexler may have been an up and comer in the forensic anthropology field, but he wasn't you. He doesn't have your genius, your talent or your integrity, Bones. There's no way he could wear your lab coat."
Her brow furrowed. "Well of course not, Booth. My lab coat is back at home. And he's dead. Plus, it would have been too small…"
He laughed, nudging her shoulder. "That's not what I mean Princess Literal! I mean, that Ian doesn't compare to you."
Her eyes widened with understanding. "Oh! You mean like Cam's effort in finding someone to take Zack's shoes."
Booth grinned. "Fill his shoes, Bones."
She nodded, dubious. "Taking his shoes makes more sense. After all, Zack is still wearing his shoes, Booth."
He squeezed her hand. "I promise Bones, it's 'fill'."
She nodded with a sad smile. Booth suppressed a desire to kiss her hand. He'd have to settle with trying to put her at ease.
"Ian's not you, Vera is not Zack. It's like he said - in his own warped way – he was trying to make you proud."
His breath hitched as she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. "I know." She said quietly. "But I didn't ask him for that Booth."
He let his thumb indulge in the soft flesh of her hand. "Yeah Bones, but that's just what happens. When you care about someone, you seek their approval whether they ask for it or not. You went into science, just like your dad. You love dolphins, just like your mom. Zack and you…we've talked about how difficult things must have been for him this past year. A lot of what he did was in an effort to get your attention – going to Iraq, rededicating himself to the job when he came back. But he struggled with what he believed to be failures: having to return home, being bested by that kid Clark during your Dad's trial, watching you reconnect with your family, the changes that all of this was having on who you are…?"
"This sounds a little like Sweets' mumbo jumbo, Booth."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. No shrinky stuff right now, I get it. Simmer down. But think about it, Bones. One of the last things that the two of you shared exclusively was your passion for logic. That mania, the both of you share. He wanted to bring something to you that no one else could. However misguided his understanding was, he was, like a dog bringing his master a dead squirrel."
Brennan scoffed, utterly confused by his example. "What?"
Booth smirked as he watched her sweet face contort. "Pets. Sometimes they bring their masters really weird presents. But they do it, because they want to show their affection. You remember what Zack said to you in the hospital, he wanted you to be proud of him. In his own weird way, he was seeking your approval."
Brennan nodded her head thoughtfully. "I suppose there is reason in your argument. Your example is quite odd. While I confess that I have limited context, it doesn't sound like a common colloquialism."
Booth squeezed her hand. "Nope. Just a little personal history. When me and Jared were growing up, Grams and Pops would send us out to Erie for a couple of weeks during the summer to see our Aunt Ruth, my Dad's sister."
"Jared and I" she corrected.
Booth cut her a "give-me-a-break" glance. Brennan apologized with her eyes, before starting again "your Aunt's name is Ruth Booth?"
Booth chuckled. "Makes Seeley sound more appealing huh?" He tugged on her arm, encouraging Brennan to resume her lean into her spot (if his was the small of her back, hers had become his shoulder.) "Uncle Seeley" was about to share a story. "Anyway, Grams would call it 'the fumigation fortnight', when she got to air the house out from the smell of two growing boys." Booth grinned as he felt his partner lightly shake with laughter.
"It had was the best. Aunt Ruth and her roommate Fran has this great place, right by the water. Tons of land. Jared and I would take off for outside right after breakfast. We'd swim, explore the woods, and play all day until summer sundown when Ruth and Frannie would call us in for delousing."
She smiled, squeezing his hand again. She was pleased to hear him speak fondly of his childhood. The more she spent time with him, the more that she realized that he, too, had very few nice memories.
He pressed his cheek against her soft hair, his mouth tickling her scalp with his words. "Well, it wasn't just me and Jared. Barney was there too."
"Barney?" she asked softly.
"Yeah, Barney." He returned in a reflexive volume. "Barney was this big, goofy yellow lab that belonged to Frannie. She got him as a pup when I was seven or eight, so we basically grew up with him." He reminisced. "He was a good dog."
"So it was Barney that brought you dead squirrels?" Brennan inquired.
Booth added his other hand to their clatch. "Heh! Well, not me. But yep. At least once or twice each visit, Barney would take off on his own after something - a squirrel, a bird or a rabbit. And more times than not, he caught up to it! He would usually catch it and double back to the house to show Aunt Ruth and Fran his bounty. I thought that his tail would wag itself off, he was so proud of his conquests!"
Brennan's mind strayed with thoughts of the physical evidence (to both flesh and bone) that would be reflected in Barney's kills. She fondly recalled her treks in the woods and informal lessons with Mr. Buxley. She was so distracted that she lost track of Booth's story.
"…Jared cried and cried!" Booth laughed.
Nimbly, she attempted to loop back in. "so then what happened?"
Booth offered. "Well, suffice it to say, I had to share my bed with him for the rest of the week, and it was Barney's last summer with a dog door. After that, Barney was restricted to the same in out privileges that Jar and I had."
Brennan looked up at Booth with a soft smile before returning her head to his shoulder. "That was a really convoluted example, Booth." Separating their hands, she lifted the armrest between them in order to curl up closer to him.
Booth sighed, shifting to make her comfortable. As impossible a fantasy it was to kiss her again, she had taken to wanting cuddle lately.
If all he could be was her security blanket, he'd take it.
"Well, you're convoluted, Bones. I figured that you'd appreciate it" he teased, eager to rejoin their hands.
"Thank you Booth."
"Yeah." He whispered back, happy to have her close and obviously sleepy next to him. "Let's get some sleep "m-kay?
Brennan allowed herself to curve further into Booth's fine firm frame.
In the silence between the partners, Brennan's mind raced. Though she was mournful of his loss, she was also appreciative that she hadn't slept with Ian. Fitting so nicely beside him, she indulged in the wash of chemicals this proximity conjured within her.
The trip had also been a wash. Though she gained a friend, she had also lost one. And, she was no closer to definitively clarifying Booth's affections for her.
But there was still time.
"Inspector Pritchard suggested that I should have sex with you." She stated bluntly and somewhat loudly for the tight confines of the airplane.
Booth's eyes popped open and he shot up, not expecting that. Brennan grabbed her jaw, slightly smacked by his unexpected jolt. Once more, neither noticed the attempted muting of snickering around them.
"Sorry! You okay?" Booth fretted quietly as he examined her face.
"I'm fine!" she protested softly, distracted by his tender touch.
"Sorry." He mumbled as he guided them both back to their prior positions. Once reset, his ability to form multi-syllabic sentences returned. "She said that?" he whispered (no…hissed – his tone definitely conveyed a need for her to modulate her volume, which Brennan picked up on effortlessly).
"Well, she compared having sex with Ian to climbing Everest. And then she alluded to the fact that I could achieve a similar experience if I slept with you."
Booth turned his panicked face to Brennan, who watched as her partner blushed and stammered looking for a reply. "Bones. We can't talk about this right now." He leaned into her, their noses nudging.
Booth was very close to her right now.
Too close, in fact. Brennan considered his proximity. Indeed, he was once again within his proximal inappropriateness window. He only got this close to her, when….
"Did you sleep with Inspector Pritchard, Booth?"
At this inquiry, Booth pushed her away again and pulled the armrest back down. "What! What? Me and Pritch? Why, why, why would you ask me that Bones?"
Brennan frowned as she watched him squirm from her simple inquiry. She was not about to reveal Angela's theory or her botched plans for London, so instead she leveraged a syllogism.
"Inspector Pritchard and I are both attractive single women who share similar sensibilities about our sex lives, and we both partnered with very attractive, sexually confident men. If Ian was desirous to sleep with me, I can only imagine that Inspector Pritchard would want to sleep with you."
"Is that right? He fidgeted nervously."
"Yes. And it occurs to me that while Ian and I were working on the case, you and Pritch spent a significant amount of time together."
"Bones!"
"And as I said before, she likes you. And if I was her, and I had free time with you…"
"Don't finish that sentence, Bones! Look, Pritch kept an eye on me when you were off gallivanting with Wexler. She was good company and a gracious host, but that's all that I'll say. I'm a gentleman, I don't kiss and tell."
Brennan regarded her partner. Objectively, what he was saying was rational, but it did not take into consideration the other evidence to which she had access. "Is that why you haven't said anything about The Boobies?"
Booth gulped. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
"The Boobies. The ladies from Scotland Yard that you went out with the night before my first lecture at Oxford?" she frowned as her partner feigned recognition of what had been described to her raucous night. "Jacqueline, Sarah and Pauline?" she suggested. "From the photos that Pritch shared with me, it appeared that The Boobies were indeed very motivated to exploit how naked you felt without your gun."
Dryly he swallowed. "There are photos?"
"Yes and video. I must relay, I admired the discipline you demonstrated in the presence of so much female nudity. Even after they removed your trousers, you were able to refrain from any outward signs of arousal until…"
"Stop!" he flushed. "We can't talk about this anymore."
Because you think of me as a sister, she smarted. "Why not? You are quite physically impressive, Booth. You have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, your pen-"
Booth's voice reached new octaves with his reply. "Oh Mother of God, Bones stop! Please!" he entreated. "Video?"
Brennan hid a smirk at her partner's legendary modesty as he wrestled to come to grips with Brennan's discovery of the details of his evening with The Boobies.
"I personally deleted the really prurient footage." She offered helpfully. "I wouldn't want your career or your access to your son to be jeopardized by misinterpretation of what appeared to be quite an enjoyable evening for you."
Booth stared with amazement at his partner, who looked upon him with an innocent gaze. No one ever in his life in his life had the ability that Temperance Brennan had to simultaneously incite, terrify and delight him. "Thanks Bones." He said quietly. "I appreciate you looking out for me."
"We're partners Booth. You look out for me, I look out for you." She explained.
"Seriously, thanks."
"Of course." She returned, desirous to reset their positions back to 'nap'. Booth exhaled before pulling up the armrest and welcoming her arm to thread again with his. "Don't think that I haven't noticed that you didn't answer my question about you and Inspector Pritchard Booth."
"Shhhhhhhhhhh." He evaded.
He thinks of me as a sister, she sighed. It was apparent that he was not going to let her see it anytime soon, so she decide to tease him. "I get that you don't want me to talk about it, Booth, but I have to say, your penis is impressive."
Defeated, Booth sighed. Bones has seen my penis. As if he wasn't already dreading his return to confession already, this just made things go from bad to worse.
Well if you can't beat them…
"I'm just a benefactor of genetics." He teased.
Brennan squeezed his arm. "And for that Booth, I am thankful for your parents."
"Sleep!" he commanded, his breath kissing her hair.
Every fiber in her being fought with its neighbor. She wanted him, but he was treating her like she was his little sister.
She would need more data. In the meantime, she really needed to get laid. She traced the lines of her partner's wrist tattoo as she let him succumb to his nap. As she drifted off, she resolved to give Mark a call.
"Were Ruth and Fran lovers, Booth?"
A/N #2: I have to confess that "Drunk Girl Law firm" is Wendish, taken from a curious habit of a few friends of mine who riff on putting together the best law firm names.
A/N #3: About the title: When I write, it is the voice of Edward Everett Horton who narrates my stories. Those of you familiar with the Rocky and Bullwinkle short "Fractured Fairy Tales" may be able to relate.
A/N #4: Had to add the "Sex-with-Pritch" thing in here, too. Several of you were so cranky about it in Collide, I couldn't help myself. :)