"The silence isn't so bad, til I look at my hands and feel sad, cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly."
-Vanilla Twilight, Owl City
God, when did he get so addicted to her? He ponders this quietly while staring across the table at her while she talks about the latest case. Her green eyes sparkled beyond description as she animatedly described the crime scene and some of the finer details. He should probably be a little weirded out about this being one of their main topics of discussion, but it is their line of work and he didn't want to stop her when she seemed to be so invested in the conversation. She got this cute little crinkle in her nose when she was discussing something she was passionate about and if some poor soul being frozen in liquid nitrogen and literally being smashed to bits made her passionate than far be it from him to make that crinkle disappear. He watched her a bit more, enjoying the red dress she'd chosen tonight more than he probably should. As she described some of the finer details of the case, her lipstick danced with her words, drawing his thoughts to how sweet her lips would feel on his own, among other places. He shook himself from less pristine thoughts, looking guiltily at her, as if she could read his mind.
He knew they could be more, so very much more, but it always seemed like something was stopping her. Keeping the placid look on his face, he examined this further. She twisted a lock of auburn hair in her slender fingers and he felt his heart clench up a little further. She'd tell him it was impossible, but he knew he was falling for her. Maybe he already had.
But how was he supposed to feel when he knew that he couldn't have her completely. She had become so much more open than when he'd first heard of her and met her, but he knew that he wouldn't be allowed any further than she'd let him in. And he knew he wasn't anywhere near where he'd hoped. She was everything he could ask for in a woman—beautiful, intelligent, confident—but somehow he couldn't help but have a nagging feeling that he wasn't what she wanted or needed.
He ran his own hands through his dark hair at the thought, mussing up the carefully styled locks he'd spent time on before.
"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" she asked sheepishly after she noticed his action. He reached his hand across the table, lacing his fingers with hers until she pulled back, an effective, if unintentional, rebuff.
"Temperance, I want to talk to you about something important," he used her first name instead of a nickname to show his seriousness. She nodded for him to continue.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," he started, watching her normally warm eyes freeze up at his statement, "actually, no, I know that I am. But what I want to know is if you feel like you could ever do the same, because it isn't fair to either of us if we aren't on the same page."
She extracted his hand from hers and looked down at the table, giving him her answer without so many words. When she looked back up, her expressive eyes showed more than she meant to let on.
"We're at least in the same book, does that mean anything?" she asked, her face falling a bit more when he shook his head in the negative.
"I'm sorry, so, so sorry," her normally eloquent words were drowned out by the sadness she felt for hurting him.
"It's ok, I think I understand," he replied, feeling his heart crack just the least bit, though not entirely unexpectedly.
This time she grabbed his hand, saying, "You don't though. It's not that I haven't tried, you are a great guy, I just don't think that this is what either of us really needs."
He let a rueful yet knowing smirk slip into place, "but I do know Temperance, I do. I'm not what you want and somehow, I think I'm okay with that. Or at least I will be."
He got up to leave, but her hand on his wrist stopped him once again.
"I hope this won't affect our working relationship," she said and he knew that she meant it sincerely. She respected him as a professional and if that was all he could get, it was better than nothing.
"Of course not," he replied, supplying her with a genuine smile. He wasn't the type of man to hold this against her or her partner.
"I really am sorry Andrew," she said, finally releasing his arm, he just gave her one last smile and walked away.
Those two would figure it out some day.
The "We may not be on the same page but at least we are in the same book" quote reference comes from a place I can't really remember. If it was another fic writer or something, I would like to give them credit, even if I don't know who you are. Let me know if it is you and I'll change that asap.
In any case, I hope that you enjoyed this fic. It's just something I thought of. I made it more ambiguous after seeing some of the similarities physically between Booth and Hacker and also just because I wanted to mess with you guys. ;)
Let me know if you liked it or not. Thanks for reading!