A/N: Happy Holiday to SleeplessinAtlanta! I hope this fulfills at least a few of your Secret Santa wishes.
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Truth or Dare
"Bones!" Booth's voice echoed through the empty lab. Lightning flashed overhead through the frosted skylight roof giving the vacant forensics platform a Dr. Frankenstein feel as thunder seemed to shake the whole building. "Bones. Where the hell are you?" He was starting to worry.
He'd gone by her apartment to make sure she was safe before the storm hit. She wasn't there. Which just confirmed that he should in fact be worried. It wasn't unlike her to ignore all the weather advisories in one of her I'm capable I can handle anything moods. For all her intelligence and brilliance she often pushed forward with no forethought and did something that could only be described as completely stupid.
He hit the Jeffersonian next. Her car was there but her office empty. For a moment he almost relaxed. Maybe Angela took her home with her for some sort of forced hurricane pajama party, he thought. But when he called Angela to double check she had no idea where Bones was.
Bone room? Empty.
By the time he headed to Limbo he was in a full on sprint. The storm was already gearing up to be a big one. The biggest to hit the city in a long time, dumping rain, thunder, lightning, winds over fifty miles per hour. Hurricane Hanna was going to be a mess.
"Bones." Still no answer. He took the steps down to bone storage two or three at a time. "Bones." Sounding more desperate and annoyed each time he called her name as he stopped to look around the long even banks of stored bones that lit up the cavernous basement. "Bones."
And each time she heard him she cringed. She assured him she was fine earlier in the day. Why was he here?
"Bones."
She wrestled with the decision to answer . After all what if it was a case? Or some other emergency? Or something with Parker? What if Booth needed her for something? She took a breath.
"Back here, Booth." When he came around the corner, back in the far reaches of Limbo, she watched as a wave of relief and irritation battled for dominance.
"Bones, what are you doing?" Disbelief, shock, surprise, he couldn't believe she was still here with her bones all laid out perfectly on the table, meticulous and methodical as ever, in her own little world.
"I'm working." She sounded as shocked as he. Why, after all, would she be doing anything else?
"Bones."
"What? Do we have a case?"
"No." He couldn't hide the disbelief in his voice which seemed just a little bit higher and tighter to her. His hands went to his hips as he shook his head. "No, we don't have a case, Bones."
"I don't understand. Why do you keep saying my name?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just hoping maybe you'll listen, maybe you'll pay attention to what's going on around you." Taking a few steps closer and trying desperately to control his frustration he tried again. "Bones, you have to leave. We have to leave. There's a hurricane headed right for us, remember? Cam sent everyone home hours ago. If we go now we might just make it to your apartment before the worst of it hits."
He moved around the table as if to shepherd her. She pulled back defensively.
"No. Booth, I already told you, I'm fine. I'll work through the storm. The Jeffersonian is safe. It couldn't be safer and I enjoy having the lab to myself." He didn't look convinced at all. In fact, he worried his eyebrow rubbing it hard and fast before looking up at her completely unconvinced. "I've done it before." She tried to reassure him.
"You can't stay, you can't, leave all that and let's go, okay?" Booth was becoming more insistent as she resisted more firmly. "Come on, before we get stuck here."
"We? You don't need to stay. I'm fine." Her lips were pursed and her stance firm.
"I'm not leaving here without you, Bones, so there is no you, just a we. Partners, remember?" He motioned back and forth between them. Partners was a card he'd played for years now. Partners share, partner hugs, partners don't keep secrets, partners trust, at first she took every word to heart. Being realistic, she still did but now she knew enough to realize that these partners rules were mostly exclusive to them.
In her heart, far beyond the walls she constructed years ago for protection and kept carefully maintained, Booth touched something. It had been so long since someone did what Booth did for her, to her, wiggling past so many of her defenses. It scared her. She couldn't help it, she wanted desperately to both run to it and away from it at the same time. She found her eyes trapped in his, found herself agreeing, reluctantly, but agreeing. Before she knew it she was being shuffled through Limbo and up the stairs with Booth's hands wrapped tightly around her shoulders guiding her every step.
They were near the top of the stairs when a huge heavy clunk, like machinery coming to a jarring stop, echoed through the building. Next, the unmistakable sound of everything electrical in the building emitting a dying hum. It stopped them in their tracks. The pair looked around frantically taking in the sudden switch in their surroundings. Then simultaneous darkness and the heavy click of the doors in front of them locking automatically. It all happened so fast, instantaneously, sending both their hearts racing. Before she could stop him Booth was up shaking the doors with all his strength, yelling at them, begging them to open.
"That won't work, Booth." She was screaming over him, trying to get his attention. "It won't work." Behind him now, he could feel her hand on his arm. "It's a safety mechanism. In the event of a power outage all the doors in the Jeffersonian lock to preserve the displays and artifacts."
"What? That's stupid" He interrupted her as he kept at the door before letting his head fall hard against it in defeat. "We're stuck." The words fell painfully from his lips. Only a little light came from thin windows that ran along the top of the basement room. It was fading quickly as the afternoon passed and the storm deepened. Soon they would be plummeted into complete darkness.
"Call security." His mind sought solutions. "Have them open it!" Turning abruptly he was nose to nose with her as she fumbled for her phone, digging in pockets, dialing, trying. "You know if you would have just left when I told you to we wouldn't be in this mess. If you'd just listened to me instead of argu-"
"I don't have any service." She wasn't really paying attention to his rant as she started moving around trying the few spots she knew she could reliably to get a signal, re-dialing over and over.
"No service?" He scrambled for his cell, checking for service himself. "Shit. I don't have any either, the towers must be down." This was not how he planned on weathering the storm. Though he had planned on spending it with her he was thinking more like good company, a warm fire in the fireplace, some comfort.
"No service." He grabbed her arm as she started to head down the stairs in dash to check another spot.
"Wait. You're going to hurt yourself in the dark." All he needed to add to this nightmare was Bones in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, injured, needing help, while they were stuck in the damned basement of the Jeffersonian. He turned his own phone on the stairway adding just enough light for her to hurry down the steps.
"What about a landline, Bones, there's gotta be a landline down here, right?" He called after her. She didn't respond at first. "Bones." Limbo didn't exactly get the best cell reception to begin with. Which she pointed out as she made her way to all her well established pockets of reception. Sometimes it seemed like all he ever did was chase her, chase and worry. "Bones, you're not going to find service down here or anywhere. The storm probably knocked it out already." He called out in the dimly lit room as he lost her in the maze of shelves and drawers. "Bones. Bones, where are you? Did you hear me?" There was no answer. "Bones, what about a landline?"
"There isn't one. Well, not one that works anyways." He couldn't see her but he could hear her.
"No landline?" His patience was well past wearing thin. "What the hell? Why isn't there a landline down here?"
"It broke."
"And they haven't fixed it? That's ridiculous. When we get out of here I'm talking to Cam. You can't work down here with no way to ge-"
"No." She screamed at him, cutting him off. "No, if I wanted it fixed it would be fixed." Truth, this was her escape. She loved that fact that she could disappear into this world and for the most part the only way to be reached was for someone to physically come find her.
Back and forth. What she wanted, what he insisted she needed. It was escalating quickly as two barely visible shapes vied for dominance. Their words echoed, bounced around the brick walls and metal shelves then dissipated, absorbed by the huge basement
"I don't need your protection, Booth, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"I never said you weren't capable. I said you should have a phone that works, that's all. If you had a phone then maybe we wouldn't be stuck here."
"I am not stuck and you wouldn't be if you had just left me alone." With that her darkened silhouette turned and disappeared. Booth went back to the stairs collapsing he hung his head as he listened to her anger from across the basement. Cupboard doors slamming, drawers pulled so fast and hard the instruments in them clattered and clanked against each other. He would have sought her out but he could hear she needed some space, space and time. It wasn't until Limbo became silent and stayed that way that his own frustration over the situation worked it's way into worry.
He began a row by row search to find her. If he thought limbo was creepy before with its long aisles of backlit shadowy bones; he was certain it was creepier tonight. The undefined clumps and shapes of bones were haunting.
He heard her before he saw her sitting on the floor looking up at what was left of the fading light as it receded from the windows. Her breath was heavy and far too measured. Without saying a word he slid down the wall and came to sit next to her. She didn't move at first, didn't say a word, they just sat there listening to the frightening sounds of the storm bellowing outside. He felt her head fall to his shoulder.
"It'll be okay, Bones, we'll be okay." He took a long deep breath and let his head fall on hers fighting the secret temptation to press his lips to her forehead and give her a reassuring kiss.
Ending the silence he finally spoke. "Whatcha got here?'
Her angry search of limbo had yielded an old blanket, several emergency candles, some crackers that had to be about a decade old, three or four dusty old coffee mugs, a small book of matches from a local bar long closed, a couple of bottles of water, and an old dusty first aid kit.
It wasn't great. Not if they ended up stuck for any length of time but it was better than nothing. They sat on the blanket and lit the candles in an effort to conserve their cell batteries. As Booth was working on setting up a cozy little area for them Bones reached into her labcoat pocket and pulled out a deck of cards and a small stash of energy bars. Booth's eyebrow raised and he shook his head. He brought her those energy bars over the last few months on days she insisted she was too busy to eat.
"You don't like them? But they're organic."
"No, I like them. I ate some of them." She added defensively. "I was busy, Booth."
"Well, yeah, I guess it was for the best, right? At least we have something to eat." Squirrel food, it was squirrell food. Which just reminded him that if she'd just left when he'd asked her to they wouldn't be sitting in this creepy ass basement staring down what was sure to prove to be a long night with nothing but saltines and squirrell food to eat.
Settling back against the wall, everything felt at odds. There was an undeniable awkwardness neither could explain. They spent most of their time together these days, casual dinners, movies as friends, advice and help and all the other guarded partner/friend activities they played off as normal. This was no different, they told themselves secretly, but it felt different. They sat in silence, she seemed fine with it, but it was killing him. His fidgets, constant readjustments, and groans of discomfort went ignored. Not because she wanted him to writhe in agony but because she didn't know what to do about it. She asked if he was okay, he told her he was fine, and so it continued until he had an idea.
"What was that card game you said you and your dad used to play?"
"War?"
"Let's play that." He leaned in, his eyebrows waggling in the light, a sparkle in his eyes. "We'll see if you can beat me, bet I'm better than your old man and I won't just let you win." Leaning in close she whacked his arm jokingly. In the end his, nodding, cajoling, baiting her into a focused competition worked. They laughed and groaned as the cards flew between them. With the slapping of the cards down on the blanket, the fast paced battles, the squeals of victory and agony of defeat made the sounds of the storm fade deep into the background of the night. They found their footing again.
They played until their pace slowed and interest waned. A painful silence grew between them buffered only by huffs of exasperated air, the rain pelting those now dark slim windows near the ceiling of the room, and the eerie scratches of bush branches that seemed to echo through the huge basement.
Booth jumped when Bones threw her head back banging it against the end of the metal shelving unit.
"I need a drink." She blurted. This was hard on her. He knew her history with dark confined places and even though they were in an open room it sure as hell felt confined to him. He assumed it felt the same to her.
"Amen to that." He answered quickly but before he could even finish she was on her feet and using her cell phone as a flashlight. "Bones." He called after her but she didn't answer. More banging, shuffling, slamming and in a few short minutes she stood before him with a bottle of tequila.
It was an answer to a prayer, he thought, as she poured them each a healthy amount. This was bound to take the edge off. It burned going down but the warm relaxed feeling that followed was welcome.
"Hey, Bones, have you ever played truth or dare?" It was a safe bet she hadn't which made her answer completely expected.
"I don't know what that is."
"Well, I ask you, 'truth or dare?' and you pick. If you say truth then I can ask you a question, any question, and you have to answer truthfully."
"I am good at the truth. I should be very good at this game." Interest sparked, she laughed, soft and low, which he found incredibly endearing. In response, his bright smile and happy eyes were comforting to her.
"I know you are but there really isn't a winner or loser in this game."
"What would be the point of the game if there is no winner?"
"I don't know, the risk, I guess, the challenge." He fiddled with his own fingers as his forearms dangled off his knees then reached for his cup pushing it her way for a refill. She poured them both ample amounts.
"What if I say dare?" She chased her question with another hearty drink.
"If you say dare then I get to dare you to do something and you have to do it or you get to dare me, you know, depending on whose turn it is."
"What if I refuse?"
Booth swallowed hard and set his drink back down before answering. "Well, you can't, that's the whole idea of the game, Bones." Then he thought about it for a second or two. "Though, I guess if you did then you'd lose." He was baiting her, which he knew was wrong, but he knew the fiercely competitive Brennan couldn't say no if she thought she'd lose the game. "I'll start, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Okay, truth, let's see. Where'd the tequila come from?" It was simple, not really intrusive, a good way to start things off.
"Angela." She could see he anticipated more in his eyes, a slight nod, encouraged her on. "After the whole thing with Michael and you and that court case she cam-"
"You came with me after that case to the one up on that scaffolding. I drove you home afterwards." It seemed like he was just stating facts, referencing the situation not asking a question so she continued.
"Yes, you did but I came back here to the lab. I just needed to work." When she said she needed to work through something it was literal, she literally needed to work so that she would think her her way through a problem or situation. A sideways glance let him know she didn't want to bring up the old offense. "Angela tried to get me to leave and when I wouldn't she brought the tequila down here insisting a few shots would help."
"You drank half a bottle that night?" The shock in his voice made her laugh.
"No. She brought it down a couple of other times, when I stopped seeing David, for example, when Sully left, and then we just kept it down here. She calls it our emergency stash. I think it's my turn now, Booth, truth or dare?"
"Hmmmm, let's see, truth."
She didn't know what to ask. Struggling with the the ethics of how personal to make her question she fumbled for a question. If she asked something too personal she opened the door for him to do the same. At the same time there were certain bits of information she always wanted know but would never ask. This seemed to be an opportunity she didn't want to squander.
"Do you regret ending your relationship with Cam?" It wasn't what she intended to ask, it just kind of came out.
"No, no, I didn't, I don't." He took a long deep breath chased immediately by the remainder of his drink. It hit hard and he shook off the burn of it. Watching him closely what she saw was a solid contradiction between what he said and his actions.
"You don't?" Her questioning tone was clear.
"No, I don't." He was firm in his answer. Turning towards her he attempted an explanation. "Cam and me, we would never go anywhere, you know, as a couple. It's just something we, I don't know, played at every once in awhile. It never was serious."
"I thought you broke up because of the nature of our work."
"Yes and no." His hands seemed to completely occupy his attention now as he stared at his fingers. "If it had been serious between us, if I had really loved her, I would have made it work." He looked up at her, drilled her with his eyes in a connection he had no intention of breaking until his point was clear. "If I loved her, you know, that way, I would have found a way to make it work."
Still locked with Booth's beautiful brown eyes Brennan found her heart racing, her breath hard to catch. "But you didn't?" She held the connection waiting for more of an answer than he would give her verbally.
"No, I didn't." Not like you, that's what he hoped his answer told her in words he couldn't speak yet. Not like I love you. "Truth or dare?" They would move on to lighter topics and more tequila until they were a little more drunk, a little more daring.
"Truth." She whispered as she let her head roll along the cold hard steel of the bone storage units.
"Okay, I probably shouldn't ask this but I gotta know. Did you sleep with Jared?"
Staring straight at him, she didn't answer at first. He saw something though, something that made it hard to read her, regret, maybe remorse. When she finally spoke Booth didn't hear her answer. He heard a horrible crack, long, loud, and seemingly aimed at them. Before she could even register what was happening she felt her body pulled, curled, and slammed between the cold hard steel and his warm muscled chest. The crackle of the window breaking into a million tiny pieces, the tiny shards hitting the tile floor, what she thought at first to be rain was really glass. He held her close, wouldn't let her move even the slightest bit. She heard his mumblings, his frantic reassurances, but couldn't discern them and what she could make out didn't make any sense.
That's when she realized he was having a flashback. "Booth, Booth, I'm fine, we're okay." He held her head to his chest, his body still wrapped tightly around hers, shielding her. She didn't know what to do, what to say, just that she needed to bring him back to her, here in the Jeffersonian. "Booth, I didn't sleep with Jared. I never slept with him. I wouldn't do that to you." She kept talking about their partnership, their friendship, about the storm and the window and how he'd kept her safe from the falling debris and shattering glass. Slowly it worked, her words wove their way past the horrific memories of war and lost comrades and back to the Jeffersonian, back to her. His heart rate slowed, his breathing went back to normal, his grasp on her finally loosened, and as fast as he swooped in to protect her he pulled away.
"No, Booth, stay." She held onto his sleeve as he backed away faster and faster. "Booth, stop, the glass, you'll cut yourself." It was her turn to chase. Through shards of glass and broken twigs and dirt, over the turned over candles and cups and cards strewn all over the floor until she came to rest beside him. He hated that she saw him like that. Hated it. They sat in silence the wind howling, the rain streaming in. He always helped her, always knew when to seek her out and when to give her space, always knew exactly what to say. She didn't. And when she finally spoke it seemed painfully inadequate.
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth." Booth barely mumbled his answer.
"Are you okay, Booth?"
His answer was swift. "No."
He was honest and for the first time since they started playing the game she thought she understood his initial assessment - there was no winner. The night seemed colder and darker than it had. She wanted to make it better for Booth but only seemed to make things worse. She had been so consumed in dealing with her own past nipping at her heels all night that she neglected to think of the battle Booth might be waging against the same ugly beast. She reached over, feeling along the ground until she found his hand. Ignoring the jerk when she first touched him she latched onto his hand and held it willing him to accept her reassurance.
"Truth or dare, Bones?" It was almost lost to the background noise of the storm, barely audible at first. "Truth or dare?" He asked a second time, louder, stronger.
"Dare." It was a careful choice. She wanted him to tell her what to do to help him and hoped by opening herself up to a dare he would.
"Let me hold you." Gently he tugged, willingly she came to rest in his arms.
She could feel him, every bit of him, emotionally, physically, and let all of it wrap around her as she wrapped around him. They would sit like this, clinging to each other, for what seemed like hours as the storm raged outside and within. They went from taught tense muscles holding onto one another for dear life to soft relaxed strokes comforting each other. Replacing silence they whispered to each other long strings of truths without the prompting or coercion of a game. Memories of wars fought and battles lost. The gentle touch of her fingers skimmed his cheek, his shoulders, and back offering acceptance and shelter. The terrors of being held captive in the trunk of a car, by guerrillas, by serial killers were offered openly. His lips found her forehead and this time there was no hesitation in pressing tender kisses of reassurance. He called her baby and promised those days were over, she was under his protection now. He would always try and protect her, always come for her. Their dark days of youth shared, riddled with the threats and actions of oppressive, abusive parents and foster parents. In the darkness, as the storm raged, they found a common ground they'd only circled and hinted at before. They found their center, their real center, and a contentment and peace in one another they previously denied themselves.
The night gave way to morning, the storm to calm, and somewhere in the moments of dawn they were jolted from their separate world by the revving sounds of electricity. The light blinded them momentarily, revealing two tired disheveled souls. They jumped from the comfort of each others arms, straightened themselves, and assessed the damage scattered all around them.
"Great. We can leave now, right?" Booth clapped his hands rubbing them together, ready to move on.
"No, not exactly. The doors all have to be manually unlocked by security." Booth was visibly disappointed. His shoulders slumped as he turned his attention to the mess the broken window made. He'd clean it up while he waited.
"Booth." She stopped him as he reached for the overturned bottle of tequila, too empty to even spill. "Stop. You're cut from the glass." His injuries weren't serious, just minor cuts sealed over with dried blood. She wanted to clean them though, assess them, make sure none of them needed attention.
"I'm fine, Bones, I just want to get home. I'll take care of it." He shrugged away from her insistent tugs as she argued the need to check them out right then. They were interrupted by the clank of the heavy doors that sealed off Limbo from the rest of the lab and the loud call of Micah, a longtime security guard, who knew his favorite anthropologist liked to hide out in the far reaches of the Jeffersonian during storms.
"Yes!" Booth's excitement and relief were obvious. He hastily grabbed her by the hand. "Let's go, Bones. I'll take you home." She protested, the mess, the blanket, the cards, the bottle of tequila. He promised to buy her another one, of everything, as long as they could just leave.
They did, they left, and he drove her home. It was a quiet contemplative drive as she tried to figure out what the last twenty-four hours meant for them. He called her baby, not in a colloquial way like Hodgins was prone to do for emphasis, but in a tender way, as in a term of endearment one might use for a lover. The more she thought the more confused and fretful she became. Booth didn't help matters, he was uncharacteristically quiet leaving her to assume he also was struggling with the fallout from their unusual night. She was used to feeling awkward but not with him. And as much as she wanted things to return to normal between them she didn't want to let go of what they had found in the middle of their dark and stormy night.
Silence followed them as Booth parked and on the long elevator ride up to her apartment, making it seem longer than normal, and all the way to her door where they stood nose to nose, eyes darting, connecting, reconnecting, searching for the right thing to do and say in each other.
"Truth or dare?" She whispered.
"Dare." He answered softly.
"Stay." Breathless, the quiet word barely made it past her lips. He nodded and stepped over the threshold of her apartment having no clue where this was headed but unable to resist finding out.
Bustling about she gathered a washcloth and towel and started the water in the kitchen sink running to warm up. She shuffled him into the kitchen as the pile of first aid supplies gathered. He leaned against the counter as she carefully dabbed at each tiny wound, washing away the dried blood, cleaning each cut. He watched her with absolute adoration, tenderly pulling her hair out of her way as she worked. God, he loved her unlike he'd ever loved anyone and yet he felt completely incapable of telling her. In desperation he sought his own distraction.
"Truth or dare?" He whispered so close to her ear that his breath tickled and caused her to scrunch up her shoulder to her ear.
"Truth." She refused to be distracted by anything until she was satisfied she'd addressed all his wounds.
"Do you have any scars?" She wasn't expecting that but tried to maintain control.
"Literal or metaphoric?" He knew she had metaphoric scars, it was obvious to everyone but her.
"Literal." He answered. Her eyes snapped to his caught, tied. The washcloth hung limp, damp, cold, from her hand as she searched for a way out of this conversation. How ridiculous and ingrained her urge to run was. But she didn't. She answered.
"Yes." Jerking her eyes away from his she rinsed the cloth with fresh hot water and continued onto the next laceration. His wounds, the discussion of scars, tugged at her. He had a scar she wanted to see, that she needed to see.
"Truth or dare?" She didn't even look up, just kept working, as she asked her question casually.
"Dare." If this was going to take them someplace he was ready and didn't want to waste time with truth being carefully measure out, he wanted action.
She turned quickly, away from her work, now facing him straight on. "I want to see it, the scar from when Pam Noonan shot you." He wasn't that much taller than her, on most days she wore at least some heel giving her a couple extra inches, putting them closer in height. But she was barefoot and suddenly he seemed to tower over her as she waited and watched him carefully.
Taking in a sharp breath he nodded and set to work on the buttons of his shirt. He'd barely begun when she joined him quickly working the buttons then pushing his shirt aside.
"I thought you saw it, you know, in my bathroom." He swore she blushed just a bit but she insisted she hadn't.
"It was bandaged." She reminded him as her fingers reached for the thick ridges of the scar. He steadied himself, braced himself for her touch, reminded himself to breath normally, as her fingers glided over the edges into the little valley the wound had left. He steadied himself by letting his hands come to rest loosely on her hip. This was going to kill him, she was going to kill him. And just when he thought he'd made it through she announced that she should check his back for fresh cuts from the glass and dipped her hands under his shirt running them over his shoulders as she pushed back his dress shirt, gathering it in her hands as it fell from him.
Booth leaned with both hands on her kitchen counter happy to catch his breath as she rinsed and warmed the cloth again before running it carefully over his back.
"Truth or dare?" It almost came out as a grunt as her cloth hit one of the deeper cuts, it stung.
"Truth." Sounding almost absent she answered as she leaned in to examine the cut closer. "This one is deeper, Booth, I think I need to put a butterfly bandage on it." She started to move towards her first aid supplies, digging through them as he spoke.
"Truth, let's see, truth, okay, I think I got one." He flinched a little as she pinched the wound together and taped it. "Tell me about one of your scars." Cold ointment hit the wound followed by the cloth dabbing at fresh blood from the reopened cut.
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, I think I do. Are you refusing to answer?" It was playful but he knew her mind would immediately go back to their conversation of the rules from last night.
"No, I am not refusing but if I tell you then you will get overly protective of me and try to find some way to exact revenge or, and this may be worse, never let me go unattended on another dig again, insisting that you have to be there to protect me."
"Well, since you put it that way you can consider your lonely days on foreign digs over, even without hearing the story."
"Booth." Exasperated and tired she dragged out the middle of his name.
"Seriously." He turned quickly and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I just want you to be safe." He nodded, she nodded acknowledging she understood of what he was saying.
"Truth or dare?" She jumped in before he could press her for more information.
"Dare."
"Tell me about the scar on your hip. Jared told me it wasn't from playing war with him as kids but refused to tell me anything more than that."
"Isn't that more of a truth thing, Bones?"
"Fine, then show it to me." She settled back arms folded across her chest waiting for him to answer the challenge. He reacted so quickly, not even thinking. Grabbing at his own belt he pulled at it unbuckling, unhooking, unzipping, until his pants fell around his feet.
"Fine, Bones, you wanna see? Fine." He pushed at the edge of his boxers revealing the jagged scar. She didn't hesitate, just stepped in and bent down, kneeling so she could see the scar clearly. It was there, just as she'd remembered it, when he showed it to their young suspect during an interrogation. Her fingers grazed the top of it barely touching the skin followed by her lips. A soft, pure kiss stole all the oxygen from his lungs. His hands flew, his fingers slipped through her hair, he wanted to hold her there, wanted to savor every second. She stayed, lingered, her lips brushed against the sensitive skin as she spoke.
"Your dad?" She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, threatened to spill over onto her flushed cheeks. "It was your dad."
It was his turn to dodge. "Truth or dare?" He asked as he reached down and wiped her tears from her cheeks.
"Dare."
"Show me one of your scars."
Standing, she started unbuttoning her shirt. Booth's eyes darted between hers and her chest as each button was undone slowly revealed a little more of her. He watched her chest heaving rapidly, picking up speed with each breath and undoing until she shrugged out of her shirt and pulled her tank top over her head leaving her standing in her bra. It was evident then. He saw it clearly and wondered how he'd missed it before. A long thin white scar running down her breast bone hidden, most of the time, by her cleavage. It poked out barely beneath her bra.
She watched him carefully as worry filled his eyes.
"I was on a dig in El Salvador when a group of soldiers came to the site. I thought they were there to protect us but really they were militants. They took several of us hostage, I was among those they captured." She paused to take a deep breath knowing she needed to tell the story quickly for both of their sakes. "They threatened to rape me everyday, they threatened to do despicable things to me. I was tied up. I couldn't fight."
"Bones, baby." There it was, slipped in again, baby, no explanation of what she should take that to mean. "You know that whatever they did to you wasn't your fault, right? You know that, right?" She shook her head, no, and he didn't know what she was referring to. No, she did know. No, don't call me baby. No, there's more to the story. She stilled him and continued.
"I was scared, Booth, admittedly belligerent. I pushed them until they gagged me and strung my hands up over my head. One of the militants pulled out a knife and cut my shirt, my tank top, my bra." Booth pulled her in closer, cradling her, protecting her against the memory of this old enemy. "It was more of a deep scratch than a cut." She justified.
"Don't defend them." One arm wrapped around her keeping her close the other rose up, his fingers touched the very tip of the scar, his hand brushed against the swell of her breasts. "Don't. What they did to you was wrong, Bones, no matter how much you antagonized them. They had no right." She accepted his words with a nod then tucked her head in under his chin needing his comfort.
As they stood in silence the past slipped quietly behind them. They found themselves trying desperately to breath, the feeling of their bodies so close together, his bare skin pressed against hers was overwhelming.
"Truth or dare?" She breathed against his chest.
"Truth." But before she could ask anything his finger pressed against her lips stopping her. "I want to tell you something, okay? A truth, okay?" He moved his hand just a little allowing his thumb to come to rest where his fingers had been. It rubbed lightly across her lips as he spoke. "I want this. You and me, I want this but I can't be a Jason or a Mark. I have to be it. It has to be just you and me. No other men, no other women, just you and me."
"But the FBI, they won't let us work toget-" Pushing back she had a frantic wild look in her eye. She couldn't lose this that they had built together, just couldn't.
"No. No. Don't do that. I'll make it work, I promise, I'll figure it out. I won't let them split us up." It stopped her hasty withdrawal. Her eyes darted across his face searching, considering his words, leaving them unanswered entirely too long.
"You love me." It was a statement of fact deduced from their previous conversation. "You love me more than Cam."
"Yes." He blurted with a slight laugh. "Yes I do. I love you and I want this more than anything in the world." Booth cradled her face in both his hands. "Truth or dare?"
She swallowed hard, terrified but determined to stay. "Dare."
"Kiss me." The simple words were spoken against her lips. They teased and tempted and before he even finished them her lips had reached for his brushing them open. He remembered this, the electrifying feel of their connection. It was no wonder it had frightened her all those years ago, sent her running to that cab, riding off alone. This was powerful and strong, an argument for soul mates and fate and once that connection was made it was a force unto itself. This time there would be no cab, no running. This time they let the energy between them carry them away.
They left the kitchen, trading it for the warm light that peeked through quickly passing clouds and streamed through the living room windows. Spinning, kissing, touching, their bodies becoming more tangled with each step. It was hard to tell where he began and she ended. Every movement one of them made the other countered keeping them as close as possible. Flashes of bright sunlight illuminated their bodies highlighting her beautiful, strong hands as they skimmed over every inch of him. Followed by shadows, dark, low, alluring, like his voice, low, deep it echoed throughout her whole body. She reveled in every touch, in every soft confession.
"I love this curve." He confessed as his hand smoothly ran back and forth along it. "I've always wanted to touch you here, kiss you here." And he would, finally able to act on years of desire and fantasy. Each hum, each guttural reaction only served to push him on as he longed to hear the music of her pleasure over and over again.
Temperance Brennan was brilliant with a near perfect memory but in the wake of his tender adorations she completely melted. She couldn't think at all, with the possible exception of one thought, her only thought, she wanted more, more of his kisses, more of his touch, more of him, all of him. Breathy, barely able to speak, she forced the words from her lips between his slow sensual kisses to her neck.
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Make love to me." Booth hummed his acceptance as he quickly pulled her close, snapping her body to his, pressing tightly up against her.
"Yes." His answer thick and firm buckled her knees and elicited the sweetest moan of satisfaction. "Yes." They moved precariously to the bedroom bumping walls, displacing furniture as they went. "Yes." spoken against her lips as his hand held her tightly by the hips.
Her curtains were pulled back revealing a beautiful view of the city. Normally she'd insist on closing them but the sky was dark again. Rain pelted her windows leaving long rivers of water flowing down the panes providing its own protection and privacy. She giggled as his hands slip to the waistband of her slacks nimbly working the fastener and zipper. Wiggling she helped them slide down her long legs. Booth's hands chased them along her hips and thighs. He moaned deep and long as he moved back up her body his need insatiable. Her acceptance unlimited.
Lost, they were completely lost in a world of sensation. Each touch, each kiss, wound them tighter and tighter, bound them to one another until they were stripped bare, body and soul, nothing separated them. They moved effortlessly, naturally, as if this was a dance they had danced a million times. In a final move of foreplay he rolled her, hovering over her he took in every inch of her. Leaning down he gently kissed up the long scar along her breastbone. Loaded with intent each kiss screamed commitment, loyalty, devotion, honor, protection. Wordlessly he gave her everything he had, everything he was.
She knew it was coming, felt this man she loved move her, handle her, watch her as he forced their connection pushing into her, joining her. But she couldn't hold his eyes, so overwhelmed by what it felt like to be one with him, her body arched, her mouth fell open, and her eyes closed in a wake of completeness she'd never experienced. The heavy sound of their breathing, the steady pounding of their hearts, mingled with the rain as it pounded against the building, against the windows, becoming one indistinguishable roar.
He wanted it to last, the passion, the intensity, the feel of this incredible rhythm that was theirs, just theirs. But he could feel control slipping away, nature running its inevitable course despite his silent pleas to let them stay just like this forever. She felt it too, clung to him in desperation.
Somewhere Booth found his voice.
"Truth or dare?" He barely grunted out the question.
"Booth." It didn't seem like the time for games.
"Truth or dare?" Insistent.
"Dare."
"Come with me, Temperance. Let go and fall with me." Nodding against his lips she gave the last of herself to him as he pulled her beyond the edge hard and fast, past all limits, boundaries, and lines. They fell, tumbled over the edge, deep into each other, into oblivion before coming up on the other side.
She refused to open her eyes. Laying in his arms, in her bed, she took a rare moment just to feel letting her hands confirm this new reality. He was her evidence, her proof. A brightness filled the room as she finally gave in and rejoined reality. The windows were clear. Leftover droplets of rain beaded up reflecting the clear blue sky. Everything was fresh and new.
"Truth or dare?" She whispered.
"Truth." He answered softly.
She rose up above him. Her hair tickled as it fell around his face and she almost lost her thought as he tenderly brushed her hair back away from her face watching intently as loose curls fell around his fingers.
"Truth." She confirmed. "I love you, Booth. That is my truth."
He hummed his acceptance as he let her hair slip through his fingers and his brush softly against hers. "I love you too, Bones, I love you too."
ooooo0ooooo
I am not gonna lie people, I was excited as I read these prompts and then I saw who I was writing for I had a bit of a panic attack! I think Sleepless may have been one of the first, if not the first, author I favorited here on this site. I certainly consider her fanfic royalty. My dear friends Craftyjhawk, Snowybones, and Faithinbones got me breathing again and kept me writing!
Just a few FYIs
Here is the prompt I chose (though, let me tell you they were ALL great prompts)
A storm, slight angst that gets resolved, a secret
In addition to that - fun fact - there was actually a Hurricane Hanna (just way too tempting to pass up) that hit the DC area in 2008 - this story is set in season 4 which I suppose would technically mean 2009. But I am the daughter of a history teacher who always said, "History is a lie agreed upon by the majority." Therefore we are going agree that Hurricane Hanna hit right after The Con Man in the Meth Lab and a certain failed trip to China.
All that aside...writing is nothing without readers. Thank you to all those that have taken the time to read, especially during this busy holiday season. And a special thank you in advance for those that leave reviews. They are priceless and a wonderful holiday gift!
On a personal note - Happy Holidays! No matter what you celebrate during this season may your days be merry and bright, may they be filled with love and wonder, and my you find yourself safe, happy, and healthy in the New Year.