Synopsis: Brennan and Booth are out of town, and they've just solved a case. Sharing a bottle of whisky over Brennan's balcony, they discuss the weather, Christmas, and the nightdress Brennan is wearing. Will one thing lead to another, or, like every other Brennan and Booth moment, will this just be another lost opportunity?

FR: T, though I know I'm pushing it. Sexual references ahead, kids!

AN: In all my fanfiction writing days, I've never come across two characters harder to capture. Hope I do them justice! Enjoy :)

The Electricity in the Night

There was a knock at her door. The moonlight seeping into her hotel room had been keeping her awake, so she was glad of the interruption of her trying to get to sleep. Her mind was too busy.

'Who is it?' She asked, though she didn't have a hard time working out who it was.

'Who do you think?' Booth replied, before adding, in an upbeat tone, 'Guess what I brought!'

She pulled the covers back from her bed and went to the door, not bothering to cover her pyjamas with the hotel sleeping gown. Booth had seen her in her pyjamas before – and less, come to think of it. She reasoned it was too hot for the gown, and at any rate, Booth wouldn't care what she was wearing.

She opened the door to find him with a large, brown paper bag in his hand, which he shook as he stood in the doorway. The light from the hallway filtered into her room, throwing her into a spotlight of sorts. She cringed at the change in light before her eyes adjusted.

'Whoa, Bones,' he said, taking in her appearance before breezing past her. 'You weren't expecting company, where you?'

She frowned quizzically as she closed the door behind him. 'I don't know anyone in this town, Booth. How could I be expecting a visitor?'

He turned back to look at her, somewhat amused. 'Well now, when a woman wears something like that –'he paused, gesturing at her attire with a waggling finger '- to bed, you assume she's expecting some company.'

Brennan looked down at her pyjamas, somewhat confused. 'I can't say I understand your reasoning. This is the most sensible nightwear I own for this kind of heat. Angie and I bought it when we were out shopping once.' She paused, hiding a smile somewhat. 'Well, I say Angie and I bought it. It was more a case of Ange forcing me to buy it.'

Booth grinned, nodding knowingly. 'Well, that explains that.'

He unbuttoned his shirt and grabbed two glasses from her mini-fridge.

'Let's take this outside. It's too stuffy in here.'

'Okay... I'll just be a moment.'

She decided to put some clothes on, as Booth had seemed somewhat surprised at her nightwear, and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable while they shared a few drinks. She grabbed some clothes and went into her bathroom, considering her appearance in the mirror.

She hadn't thought about what she looked like when she was in the pyjamas before, she hadn't really had reason too. Like she'd said, the pyjamas were simply the most sensible garment she owned for sleeping in such hot weather. Looking at them now, she hardly looked sensible at all, and she could see where the surprise on Booth's face had come from.

She found herself inexplicably blushing as she considered what she must have looked like to Booth. The pyjamas were satin teal with black lace edging, and rather low cut. The night dress was short enough to expose a greater extent of her smooth, milky white legs than Booth was generally used to seeing.

While she wasn't shy about her body, considering all that had happened between her and Booth, she didn't really want to make things awkward. But just as she was about to pull the pyjamas over her head, she heard Booth call out.

'Gees, Bones, what's the hold up? You don't need to powder your nose or anything, it's only me!'

'Just a second, I'm putting some clothes on!' She called back.

There was a pause, before he responded.

'Aw, now don't do that on account of me, I don't care what you wear. And the weather is too hot for clothes,' he added, almost hopefully, as if he was trying to convince her of something.

She shrugged. He was right. Booth was in love with Hannah, so no matter what she wore, it surely wouldn't have an effect on him. And it was too hot for the jeans and a t-shirt she had been planning on putting on, anyway.

So she exited the bathroom and joined him on the balcony, sitting down next to him on the small wicker couch. He looked pleased to see her and completely unconcerned by her unchanged appearance, but she still felt somewhat exposed. She took the bottle of whisky from his hands and gulped back a large mouthful. Hardly dignified, but Booth wasn't bothering with the glasses he'd left on the side table and she found she didn't care enough to use them either. She settled herself next to him; feeling more relaxed as the alcohol buzzed through her bloodstream. She knocked back another mouthful before handing the bottle to Booth with a cough. He'd taken off his button down shirt and was left sitting in his wife beater, suspenders and black regulation pants. His feet were up on the ledge, and he wiggled his toes in his stripy blue and green socks. He took a large gulp from the bottle, and wedged it between his and her legs. For a moment they sat in silence, sitting so close to one another they could feel the heat emanating from the others body.

They were out of DC in a tiny town, middle-o-nowhere, Texas, and weren't heading back until the morning. The case they had just solved had been a depressing one, involving three children and their mother. They hadn't gone out for drinks after – neither had really been in the mood for it. But it looked like Booth had had as much trouble sleeping as Brennan had, and she was glad that he'd come around. It was ritualistic, this drinking after a case, and she had grown so used to it that things had felt unfinished until he had appeared.

A warm breeze whipped across the balcony, almost a relief from the hot, stagnant air.

'Can you feel the electricity in the air, Bones?' Booth asked, picking up the bottle again to take another swig, before placing it back between their legs. 'I reckon there is going to be a bi-ig storm,' he said, throwing her a charming smile.

Brennan considered the air, before nodding in agreement. 'You're right. It does feel electric.'

She took another drink, considering her choice of words. Usually she would have said something more scientific, about pressure systems and wind speeds or something, but instead she had chosen to echo his words. Somehow they had felt... right.

He took the bottle back off her, taking a sip while looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.

'So, Bones. What else have you bought on your shopping trips with Angela?' He said, hiding a smile, but his eyes seemed bright with mischievous curiosity.

She considered the question, smiling. 'I find your interest in the matter odd, Booth. For one, you're not really the type to take interest in shopping, and secondly, I'm sure you realise that I'm hardly the kind of woman who enjoys spending her time discussing such trivial things.' She retrieved the bottle that was wedged between their legs, taking another small mouthful. Her eyes were starting to feel unfocused.

Booth raised his hands as if in defence, before sitting back to apparently get a better look at her. His eyes looked somewhat unfocused, also, but he was steady enough.

'Well, I was just curious to find out if you had any other items in your wardrobe such as this,' he said, gently tugging at the strap on her shoulder as if too illustrate a point.

She hid a smile, taking a larger gulp. 'And why would you care, Booth, if I owned other such items?'

He cleared his throat and sat back, looking at the horizon, his voice now sounded deeper and less teasing. 'Oh, you know. I can't help but... it's nice. Almost Christmastime, you know. Hannah might like something... like it.'

He said her name as if he was trying to remind himself of something, something he didn't really want to remember. But the sound of Hannah's name had an instantly sobering effect on Brennan, and the lightness of her mood lifted, to a certain extent.

'Ah, yes, well, that makes sense. I can give you the name of the shop I purchased this from, if you like. Ange would probably even be happy to assist you in present buying. She would be much more helpful in the matter than I would be, I imagine.'

He nodded, continuing to look out at the distant sky, automatically bringing the bottle of whisky up to his mouth, taking a large sip. He shook his head, as if to clear it, before looking back at Brennan.

'So what am I going to get you?' He asked, the twinkle in his eye back, though still somewhat reserved.

Brennan sat back again; feeling more relaxed at the change of mood in her partner. 'You know you don't have to get me anything, Booth. I have all I need, and there isn't much that I want.'

He smiled at Brennan ponderously, before leaning into her.

'So you admit there is something you want.' He said somewhat huskily, his breath tickling her neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

She grabbed the bottle from between their legs, taking a larger gulp than she had meant to. Spluttering somewhat, she responded.

'Course there is, Booth. I'm only human. We all have our desires.' She felt that odd sensation she always felt when she'd drunken too much, as if her mind was a spectator too her mouth. The words were her own; certainly, but they were not words she would have readily spoken, not while Booth was leaning into her, with the skirt of her nightdress riding up past decency from the constant placement and displacement of the whisky bottle, while they were alone in a hotel room, in middle-o-nowhere Texas, where consequences suddenly seemed like fairytales from a land far away.

DC seemed pretty far away at the moment.

Booth shook his head again, straightening up and away from her, but their shoulders still touched.

'What are these desires then, Bones? Give me a hint. I'm a detective. I can work it out.' He said, delicately taking the bottle from her hand, gripping it tightly.

She tried to gather her thoughts, but the haze of alcohol made it hard to think of something reasonable to say. Her heart was thumping in a way she couldn't explain, painfully fast in her chest, until all thoughts drifted away and all she heard was the beat in her mind.

'My heart's...' she broke off, wondering what she was saying. It had made sense in her head.

'You want your heart for Christmas?' Booth snorted, placing the bottle back between their legs, more haphazardly this time. He still gripped onto the bottle, but his hand slid down the glass, resting on the exposed skin of her leg. He hadn't seemed to notice where his hand was, but the touch sent a nervous tingle down her spine.

'No... my heart, it's... fast.' She said definitively, as if the conversation was closed.

Booth sat up again, picking up the bottle and taking another sip.

'Is that a riddle or something, Bones?' He moved to place the bottle between their legs, but the sound of a huge thunderclap overhead, so loud it was as if they sky had just split in two, made them both jump, and the bottle slip from Booth's grip and fall to the ground. The glass shattered across the deck, and his hand was resting on her leg again.

Booth cursed, looking at the broken glass like he could will it back together by the strength of his glare. Brennan giggled. She had just thought to herself that that thunderclap had sounded like the sky had been split in two, and now, the rain was falling in such a way it was as if it had. Water gushed down from the sky, blowing in their faces. She laughed again, placing her feet on the wet, shard ridden deck.

'Gees, Bones!' Booth snapped, his hand falling from her thigh too catch her feet. 'What are you thinking?'

'I'm thinking...' she said, turning her bright, unfocused eyes towards Booth, 'that you're all wet.' The wind had picked up, blowing the torrential rain onto the deck. Both of them had been soaked through in moments.

She laughed again, and Booth grabbed her feet, placing them on his lap as he reached for his shoes next to the couch. He slipped them on, considering that maybe he should just go inside and grab Brennan a pair of shoes so she could get out of the rain without shredding her feet to pieces. He stood up relatively shakily, jumping slightly at the sound of another thunderclap. He looked down at Brennan, who had been thrown into sharp relief from the lightning, and saw that she was soaked, her teeth chattering slightly, despite the heat. She tried to sit up again, and he promptly swept her up in his arms.

'Boooth!' She said, sounding somewhat surprised by their sudden contact, and the fact that she was no longer on solid ground. 'Put me down! You're going to drop me!'

He couldn't see clearly, as a result of too much whisky and the sudden darkness of the night. But he knew one thing better than any other – he would never, ever, let Temperance fall.

He clambered inside her room, both of them dripping onto the carpet. She smiled at him, looking directly into his eyes for a moment before saying, matter of factly,

'You can put me down now, Booth.'

But he didn't really want to let her go just yet. He walked over to the bed, before plonking her down rather unceremoniously. The bed had appeared closer than it actually was, and she bounced up and down upon the bed before coming to rest.

She laughed again, stretching, reaching for the bedside lamp.

His eyes were unfocused, things were a little blurry. But out of the haze, he saw her clearly enough that it was a struggle to look away.

The nightdress now clung to her body, having soaked all the way through. He could see every contour, every curve of her body. The shape of her thighs as they became her hips, how her delicate hip bones almost looked like arrows, pointing him in the right direction – as if he had needed it. It felt wrong to him, looking – staring; at her like this, but he couldn't help himself. She was so beautiful.

Her face was lit by the glow of the lamp she had just turned on, but her eyes seemed to glow with warmth that he rarely saw, that lit up her whole face, as if from within. She smiled cheekily, a smile he knew that she had learned from him.

'Whatchya lookin' at, Booth?' She asked, sitting up so she could better look him in the eye.

He beamed at her; he'd always thought she was adorable when she was drunk. She sat back against the wall, still smiling at him. He felt mesmerised by her, by her face. He'd been standing here, just staring at her for who knows how long, and he didn't think to move away, or sit down. He couldn't bear to tear his eyes from her, her face, her body. He watched as a wet tendril of hair fell across her eyes, and was distracted as a fat drop of water fell from it, running down her cheek, her neck, over her delicate collarbone, before disappearing into the material of her nightdress. He couldn't help but notice the smooth outlines the satin nightdress made as it clung to her breasts, and with a sharp intake of breath he looked away as he saw just how little it left to the imagination. Her nipples strained erect against the fabric, clearly noticeable.

He looked back at her as she delicately grasped one of his fingers, her blue eyes looking at him with humour.

'I can tell you think... that I'm drunker than you, Booth.' She slurred a few words, but she sounded quite herself. 'But I beg to differ. Because you've just spent the last... aproxs-approximately five minute starting, I mean, staring at me, for no good reason I can think of.'

He found it funny that she thought that staring at her wet, beautiful self was not a good reason, and let out a laugh. She frowned, pursing her lips.

'Why are you laughing at me?'

He laughed further as the pout on her lips made her look more like a sex kitten than anything else.

She unsteadily sat herself up, kneeling on the bed so they were closer to eye level than they had been before. She leaned forward to push him, and he gave way at her push, but his feet didn't falter. He pushed her back gently, trying to remember why she had pushed him in the first place.

'What's so funny, Booth?' She drew in closer to him, the wet material on her chest pressing against his sternum, and he almost gasped at the contact. He couldn't believe the way he was acting, how quickly both their resignations, his ethics had seemed to disappear. He ran his hand up her arm, meaning to push her back gently, so their bodies would no longer be connected, but he found his hand continuing up along her neck, to push the tendril of hair out of her face, so he could look into her eyes with no distraction. His finger traced the curve of her lip, and she looked at him curiously, vulnerably. It was that look of vulnerability that stopped him, made him step away, finding a seat on the armchair immediately behind him. He'd wanted to kiss her, but too many times had he stolen kisses from Bones. He wasn't going to do it again.

She remained kneeling on the bed for a moment before resettling herself, draping her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up directly in front of him, her head cocked slightly to one side, as if she was trying to understand him.

'Now, what are you looking at?' Booth asked quietly, almost gruffly. He didn't want to look at her anymore, she was just too damn tempting, but like an addict to a drug, he couldn't look away.

A smile played on her lips as she stared at him, her eyes never faltering from his. His brown eyes were like liquid warmth, alight with what she could only think to describe as love, even though it made no sense; was entirely irrational.

She believed in love, Booth had shown her in so many ways what love was. That wasn't the irrational thing. She couldn't see how he could possibly be looking at her in such a way, in this moment. He loved Hannah, didn't he? He'd moved on, he'd told her that. She loved Booth, as much as she was able, but she accepted that he was not hers, and never would be. That didn't stop it from burning when she saw him with Hannah, but she knew where Booth belonged. She also knew the burning was irrational, entirely pointless, but for once in her life her rationality didn't make the pain any more bearable. The burning never stopped, never went away, no matter how many times she saw him with her, the other woman, the imposter.

And now, because of the way he was looking at her, the burning within her felt different. This fire was slow, sensual - but it still left her aching, somehow. Her body yearned for his touch in a way she had never imagined possible before. But she was terrified, always scared. Consequences that had seemed so far away just a short while ago started stacking up in her mind, and she found herself closing her eyes, closing herself off to the love she had witnessed in his eyes. The fire started to hurt again.

He asked one last question, and enough of the truth serum - the whisky; remained for her to answer the question he asked, enough for her to answer without thinking of the consequences.

'Do you want me to go, Bones?' He asked quietly, and she opened her eyes. She knew what she should say. She should tell him to go. But the thought of him gone, her heart left racing like this, leaving her in the fire - she couldn't say what she was supposed to. What Hannah deserved her to say, even what Booth deserved. Because she knew that whatever she asked, he would do, at any cost to himself, without regards to any consequences he would face.

In the end, it wasn't a declaration of love, nor rambling words, or anything particularly remarkable at all that resulted in Brennan and Booth spending that first night together. Just one simple word.

'Stay.' She murmured.

And he did.

Well, I'm very happy with that story, but for one gaping big mistake! See, I live in Australia so obviously its summertime here. Hence, not summertime there, and since this is set around Christmastime, I assume that it's cold in Texas around now? I'm going to use global warming as an excuse... unseasonable weather in Texas while Brennan and Booth are there, that's what it is. Please forgive the error!

Other than that, hope you enjoyed reading and that the blundering mistake didn't take away from the story! Please review if you feel so inclined :)