He chewed that damn piece of gum all afternoon. He rolled it around his tongue till he'd sucked every last bit of flavor from it, then kept chewing it for hours just to remind himself it had really happened. That Bones had kissed him. Like French people on the street. Jeez. He was really going to have to check out Paris one of these days.
He'd only taken it out because he was eating dinner with Parker. He'd considered putting it on his plate and putting it back in his mouth after the meal was over, but then he reminded himself that was disgusting, and heroically refrained. He thought about saving it, maybe in a jar, or something, but then he reminded himself that would be pathetic. So he did what someone who had not been made unstable by kissing his partner would have done, and threw the worn out piece of gum away.
Of course, a week after that, he went to Costco and bought practically a lifetime supply of the stuff- same brand, same spearmint flavor. That wasn't unstable, it was just… well, polite. So he would always have good breath for anyone who happened to be, you know, breathing the same air as him. Just in case. Then he went through the thing in about a month and had to go back and get two more of the same jumbo boxes.
It became a habit, just like his hand finding its way to the small of her back had become a habit, like saving her life had become a habit, like showing up at her place with takeout after a case had become a habit. Not quite an addiction. He knew addiction, he'd experienced it. And the gum, that didn't qualify. These days the only thing he was truly addicted to was her. The gum, well, maybe it could be considered a symptom.
She asked him for a piece one day, and he handed her the package wordlessly. "This is my favorite kind!" she exclaimed, looking mildly surprised that they shared this taste.
He checked himself from saying, 'I know,' and smiled at her instead. "Mine, too."
The thing was, he remembered exactly what she tasted like under the spearmint- cinnamon and coffee and hazelnut and something that was just… her. He chewed the damn gum frantically to try to recreate just a fraction of how intensely amazing it had been, and also to prevent himself from attacking her and sticking his tongue down her throat over a dead body one day. Okay, so maybe the gum was becoming more of an addiction than he'd thought.
He found himself lingering near her even more, now. He'd always crowded her personal space, but now he was practically her shadow, moving completely in synch with her. Now that he'd gotten a taste of her, he couldn't get enough of her scent, a whiff of her hair, a breath of the scent of her neck. He was willing to risk annoyed looks, and irritated assertions that she could take care of herself, thank you very much, and she didn't need him hovering over her like some hulking bodyguard at every murder scene.
He noticed, though, that eventually she stopped protesting his physical proximity. She gave in, little by little, in the end, just as she had when he'd started calling her Bones, worn down by his persistence. She'd stopped fighting him on that one, and now he would swear she actually liked being called by the nickname he'd given her. He hardly dared hope that maybe she was growing to like him being near her in the same way, that maybe she actually enjoyed his nearness as much as he enjoyed hers.
And so the following year, he had mistletoe up in his office on December first (strategically placed, so that he might avoid the more aggressive members of the secretarial pool who were prone to noticing such things). He waited until Bones told him she was coming over to his office to discuss a case, and then he hung it up just over the place where she most frequently stood to argue with him.
When she got there, he let her ramble on about the case for a few minutes before maneuvering himself beneath the mistletoe next to her.
She trailed off in the middle of an unnecessarily long explanation about the damaging effects of coal mining on the average middle-aged male, and furrowed her brow. "Why are you smiling? Lung cancer is not generally considered an amusing subject."
He grinned, not at the lung cancer, of course, but at her, and pointed up.
Her gaze drifted upwards and settled on the cute little sprig. "Why do you have mistletoe in your office? Is Caroline blackmailing you?"
He smiled his charm smile. "Nope."
She looked at him warily. "Then why would you go to the trouble of hanging it over your desk?"
"Tradition, Bones. Tradition."
She frowned. "I've never known you to hang mistletoe in your office before."
"I'm referring to the tradition you began last year in your office," he said pointedly.
It took her genius brain a moment to process this, and then her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then she, Temperance Brennan, blushed. "Oh."
He stepped closer to her, and flashed the charm smile again. He figured it couldn't hurt—she was notoriously unable to resist the charm smile, and he very much did not want her to resist him just then. "Consider this warning a professional courtesy: We are about to kiss. Like colleagues. French people on the street."
"Like brother and sister?" she said, a little breathlessly. Her eyes were still on his mouth.
"No. Definitely not like brother and sister," he said.
He took one more step towards her and they were toe to toe, and he stopped to savor the moment, so like their everyday interactions, arguing until their faces got closer and closer. Except they weren't arguing right now. Just close. "Want some gum?" he said lightly, when his face was only inches from hers.
She shook her head mutely.
He kissed her.
There was lapel grabbing.
He didn't think he was going to be needing that gum anymore. He had a new addiction now.