A/N: After a long and study-filled break, I'm back. Like always, I'm procrastinating, trying my hardest not to work on my thesis.
The title and a couple of the lines in here are adapted from a song by Ingrid Michaelson, 'Overboard'. While this isn't a songfic, I'd seriously recommend that you listen to the song! I'm trying my hardest, but because I hardly ever get to see the show, it's probably a little OOC. Please feel free to point out flaws when reviewing. Sorry the chapter is so short, but hopefully the next one should be longer (and up soon!)
The pan hissed as Temperence Brennan threw onions into the hot oil. She grabbed the handle and shook the pan slightly, coating the slices of onion in oil and setting it back down to soften and brown. Humming the tune to an unknown song, she poured a generous glass of red wine and took a sip. The soft spiciness of the liquid flowed through her, instantly boosting her mood. As she chopped vegetables, she slowly unwound, the day's stresses melting away with every passing moment. Halfway through the glass, she realised that something was missing. Glass in hand, Temperance made her way into her living room and perused her CD collection. Somewhere in there was the CD that Angela had given her, a compilation of Blues and Folk songs that she had downloaded from the internet.
The speakers crackled to life and the soft pluck of guitar strings filled her apartment as Iron and Wine took their place. Temperance liked the softness of the music and the meaning behind the lyrics. Angela had been her usual, unsubtle self, filling the disc with songs that she thought would resonate with her friend. And she was right. Each time Temperance played it, she discovered a new meaning in the lyrics that she hadn't heard before. She had just turned the volume up when a strong smell of cooking onions brought her out of her thoughts and back into the kitchen. Grabbing the pan off the stove top before the contents burned, she threw the other vegetables in and returned it to the heat to continue softening. Dancing on the balls of her feet, she moved lightly around the kitchen, filling a large pan with water and heating it to boil for pasta.
She had just turned on the light in her study and set the bowl of pasta on the desk when there was a sharp knock on the door. She recognised the knock as Booth's and yelled out to him that she would just be a second. Sensing that this might not be the quickest of visits, Temperance stopped momentarily to enjoy a mouthful of her dinner while it was hot and then made her way out to the door quickly. Too quickly it seemed, for as she spun around to leave her study, the little toe on her right foot slammed awkwardly into the doorframe.
"FUCK!" The curse escaped her mouth before she could even attempt to hold it back. Sucking in air and biting down on her lip, Temperance struggled to stay upright as she instinctively grabbed her bare foot in an attempt to stop the pain.
"Bones? Bones, are you okay?" Booth's worried voice called through the door.
"I'm fine, Booth." She called back, not wanting him to break down her front door in a fit of machismo. "Just give me one second." Temperance hobbled into the kitchen, trying to avoid getting the blood that was now flowing from her torn toenail on her carpet. Ow, ow, ow... she muttered under her breath with every movement. A moment later she was unlocking the door to find a Special Agent, with his brows firmly furrowed in concern, waiting impatiently. The first thing that went through her mind was that he had his trench coat on, which usually meant that he was going to be outside, which probably meant that they had a body to deal with. His thoughts were obviously somewhere else, and when he pushed his way inside she could see that he was eyeing her up and down, finally settling his gaze on the dish towel that was currently wrapped around her right foot.
"Bones, are you okay? Why do you have that on your foot?"
"I kicked the doorframe. My toe is bleeding. I have cream-coloured carpet." She looked at him like she was explaining it to a child. "Why are you here at," she paused to glance at the clock on the wall "10 o'clock on a Wednesday night?"
"Let me have a look." Ignoring her question, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the sofa. When she was seated, he knelt in front of her and gently unwrapped the towel, noticing her wince at the movement. The bleeding had all but stopped, but the towel was ruined. Half of her foot throbbed in pain, but her attempt to pretend it didn't hurt was commendable. He moved to touch the tenderest part of the toe, but she slapped his hand away.
"I'm sure I'll live, Booth. Why are you here?" Their faces were brought closer together as she sought his eyes, trying to break his fixation on her injured foot. When he finally looked up, there was something in his gaze that she struggled to recognise. A moment passed, with each searching for something that was unreadable in the other's eyes. A spark of desire passed through both of them, causing their heart rates to increase slightly. Booth still held her foot in his hands, and neither wanted to break contact. Minutes seemed to pass, with neither moving. Suddenly, Temperance felt her body responding to the sexual tension that filled the air. The old, thin tank top she wore hid nothing from her partner, and she moved to stand up, clearing her throat and attempting to hide the blush that was storming across her cheeks. Her movement jolted him into action and he stood up abruptly, turning away from her and audibly sucking in a breath of air.
She almost swore again as she stood up too quickly, forgetting her toe until a shooting pain reminded her.
"Get dressed, Bones", Booth had regained his composure, but still refused to meet her eyes, preferring instead to browse her bookshelves while he talked. "We've got a body."