AN: When I'm stuck on other projects, this is what I have been using to have some kind of productive procrastination on my other stories. Enjoy!
Part One: Attraction
Temperance Brennan stretched in her chair, reaching her arms his above her head. She wiggled her fingers and rolled her wrists, envisioning the intricacies of her circulatory system sending blood flow to the overworked areas. Glancing at the clock, she noted that she had been typing for over three hours. Progress on her second book was smooth, and she had no shortage of ideas. Her day in bone storage was fruitful, bearing identification of the skeleton and time to brainstorm.
"You're still here?"
Brennan startled at the sound, looking up quickly. Angela appeared at the door, wearing a pair of black workout pants and green tank top. She leaned against the door frame and gave Brennan an accusatory stare.
"Writing," Brennan answered shortly, gesturing to her computer and board of sticky notes in turn. She knew that Angela would assume she was doing something work related, and her coquettish friend frowned on Brennan using her free time in such a manner. "Forget something?"
Angela patted her paisley printed laptop case slung over her shoulder in answer. "Are you ready to leave?"
Brennan nodded and packed up. Her friend waited patiently at the door, but she knew that Angela was making sure that she didn't spend the night in her office. The pair walked out of the lab together, making their way through the rose gardens outside of the Jeffersonian. The night was clear and cool, warranting taking the long way to the parking lot.
"What's Agent Andy Lister up to now?" Angela asked, referring to the male character from Brennan's first novel.
Brennan laughed. "Seeing as though he is fictional…," she started to answer, but Angela cut her off with a hard look. The anthropologist sighed before continuing. "Catching a serial killer. The killer is overly confident, sending a letter to the FBI with the location of the body after each murder. Dr. Reichs works with him to find the evidence that the killer has to have inevitably left." The brunette to her left nodded as she spoke, showing her interest.
"Well and good sweetie, but what about the sexual dynamite that is waiting to explode between them?" Angela asked, punctuating her sentence with a hip thrust.
Brennan rolled her light blue eyes. "It's not a romance novel. The relationship between Kathy and Andy is a subplot to the science."
Angela did not look like she was amused. "I know you believe that, but that is not why your book is a best seller. The sequel should show more of their relationship. If only there was a place for you to get inspiration to write those kinds of scenes…," she purposefully trialed off, letting Brennan catch her intimation.
"You are implying that the relationship between Agent Andy and Dr. Reichs is based on my partnership with Booth," she said. Since the first book came out, all of her friends and colleagues were making false parallels between themselves and her characters. She was aware that there was a general consensus that Agent Andy was based on Booth. He thought so as well, but that said more for his ego than it did for his proper analysis of fictional characters.
"C'mon, you can admit it to your best friend," Angela coaxed, "I won't tell." She pouted her lips and managed to make her large brown eyes appear sad.
Brennan ignored the look. Her car was in sight, only a few more paces away. "Goodnight, Ange. See you tomorrow," she said, successfully avoiding the question.
"Friends share secrets. That's what makes us close!" Angela called out after her, laughing heartily.
The bullpen of the Hoover building was quiet the following morning, only a few agents at their desks. It was a stark contrast to the normal bustle of activity, but the early hour was the likely culprit. Booth had called about an hour ago, altering her to a new case, and told her to pack for a trip. She was not thrilled at being loaned to the FBI, but a quick phone call to Dr. Goodman confirmed that there was no way out of it. If she wanted to continue her involvement in the field, she had to go.
Brennan opened the door of Booth's office, trailing her small rolling luggage. He was seated behind his desk, bent over a stiff manilla file. "Mornin', Bones," he greeted and gestured to a prepared cup of coffee for her. She let go of her bag to reach for the styrofoam cup. "Here's your copy. I haven't gotten a chance to read over much of it yet," he said, passing her a matching file. He took a sip from his own coffee, probably supersaturated with sugar. He turned his attention back to the file. His brown eyes moved across the page as he read. She tried to do the same, scanning over the page.
Her eyes wandered up from the words, drawn back to the man across from her. Booth was relaxed, his shoulders free of tension. His back must be feeling better. Brennan refocused her eyes on the text in front of her, but a few lines later she looked up again. Booth was still reading, dressed for a day working the case. Leather holster straps crossed over his white dress shirt, accentuating the wide breadth of his shoulders. His tie was dark blue. One of his large hands turned the page, and he looked up, locking eyes with her. He was in a surprisingly chipper mood. Maybe Dr. Goodman warned him.
"I don't read at genius speed. Give me a second to catch up before we leave," he said, giving her his signature charm smile before continuing to read.
Brennan felt her cheeks heat as blood rushed to the capillaries just under her skin. Thankfully, he was still looking down, and therefore did not notice. This wasn't the first time that she had been distracted by his remarkable physicality. Maybe there was something to Angela's theory. She had written Agent Andy Lister as an attractive man. Brennan wrote him as strong and physical, capable of intimidating the most violent criminals. Granted, she had written her character with blonde hair, but those dark eyes were the same, capable of radiating kindness as easily as ferocity.
The similarities didn't end there. She had given her fictional character a military background like her partner, only swapping the Navy SEALs for Army Rangers. Booth's overprotective alpha male nature was echoed in Andy. In an effort to cater to her predominantly female audience, her characters were often surrounded by sexual tension, and she would be remiss to say that wasn't commonplace with Booth.
Even if Angela was right in her assumption, that didn't lead to any larger conclusion. Booth was attractive; science supported his desirability. Anthropology would suggest that his capability to provide protection would make a man like Booth attractive to females. Biologically speaking, his secondary sex characteristics like low body fat percentage, square jaw, and angular facial features illustrated his testosterone levels and aided in sexual selection. The mathematical symmetry of his face fit within the golden ratio, a measure of attractiveness. These same qualities were present in quintessential fictional male characters in theatre and literature. But, when she thought about how she would write Booth- how she would describe his face, how she would explain his physique- she couldn't help but think that her readers would be highly satisfied, much more than with Agent Andy.
"So, you ready to go see the real deal? Our flight to Aurora leaves in two hours," Booth said, interrupting her thoughts and snapping her back to reality.
"Yes," she lied, just now looking at the pictures attached to the files. A poached black bear had been found with a human hand in it's stomach during the necropsy. The local medical doctor had determined that the hand had been severed by a saw before being eaten by the bear. Judging by the striae and kerf marks visible in the photo, he was correct, suggesting murder.
Booth nodded and reached under his desk to grab a black duffel bag. He passed her the file he had been holding in order to grab her suitcase. Rather than rolling it as its design intended, he grabbed it by the handle. His large hand barely fit under the strap, making her think of the mnemonic for remembering the bones of the wrist. Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate. She continued to name the bones of the phalanges to refocus her thoughts, touching each one in turn with her thumb.
Her phone rang as they walked through the parking lot. Brennan answered, hearing the familiar voice of Angela. "This is the first time I am at the office before you. Are you in a ditch somewhere?" Brennan laughed and stopped walking, letting Booth go ahead. She assured her friend and explained the situation.
"Sweetie, this is a sign from the universe to get away from the office," Angela said.
"We are solving a murder, not having sex on a field trip," Brennan answered.
Angela laughed suddenly. "Doesn't psychology have a few theories about how you jumped to that conclusion?"
"Psychology is a soft science," Brennan mumbled.
"Sure, sweetie," she spoke knowingly, "Just make sure you don't spare any juicy details when you tell me all about it."
"Goodbye, Angela." Brennan shook her head as she walked the rest of the way.
Booth pulled into the motel parking lot and cut the engine. He had retrieved both of their bags from the trunk of the rental when he realized that Brennan still hadn't gotten out. He knocked on her window and raised his eyebrow quizzically.
She cracked the door open to speak to him. "This is where we are staying?" He nodded. "Do you know the likelihood of bed bugs in roadside motels?"
He shrugged. "FBI budget, Bones."
"Budget? You have a budget?"
She had to be kidding, but Booth knew that she wasn't one to yank his chain. "Of course. You don't?"
"No. They reimburse me after I give them the receipts," she answered. She looked honestly confused, and Booth shook his head.
"Then it's on you." Brennan nodded in agreement and pulled out her cell phone. As she made phone calls, Booth put their bags back in the trunk and let the motel know that they were cancelling their reservation. When he got back in the car, Brennan was ending a call.
"There's a room at the Evergreen Lodge. I got directions," she said.
"A room?" Booth swallowed thickly.
"Yes. A suite actually," she answered, "There should be plenty of room for us both. There is also a terrace. Turn left up here."
Booth did as he was told. She really didn't see any implication in sharing a room. He wondered how such a smart person could be so oblivious. The lodge wasn't far away, and they arrived shortly. When they checked in, the receptionist automatically assumed they were a couple. She was caught off guard when Booth asked if there were any extra rooms. There weren't, something about peak hiking season.
Brennan questioned him in the elevator, still not grasping why he would want his own room. "I just want us to be comfortable, that's all," he answered, dodging.
She seemed to chew on his answer for a moment before replying. "I understand. You can sleep in the bed because of your back issues. I can sleep on the pull out couch."
Booth resisted the urge to bang his head against the elevator didn't understand in the slightest. As much as she infuriated him, he was enjoying their new partnership. After ten cases together, they were solving at a faster rate than any other agents at the bureau. Her brain was a force to be reckoned with, and he was learning how it worked. Well, how she worked. He could never memorize as many textbooks as she had, but he knew people.
She drove him crazy in more than one arena. Her light blue eyes were stunning, and she wielded her beauty unknowingly. The fact that she didn't do it on purpose made it worse. The way she swung her hips as she walked down the hall, the way she curled her slender fingers around the door handle, and the way she moistened her lips before she spoke with a quick dart of her tongue were all effortless. Her lips moved again, and Booth realized belatedly that she had asked him a question.
"You're meeting the doctor at eight and I'll go find the sheriff," he answered after she repeated herself. He dropped their bags and walked the room. It was large and mostly empty space. The spacious bathroom was immediately to the left and the bed occupied the center of the room. Booth looked away quickly, stepping through the sitting area and onto the terrace. He sat on a brown wicker chair, looking out into the forest. Everything was wet. It made the trees seem greener and the soil a dark, rich brown in the low light. Sunset was streaming between the trees.
Minutes later, he heard the sliding door open. Brennan sat in the chair beside him. Booth noticed that she had changed into cotton shorts and a tank top as she folded her legs underneath her. She exhaled loudly, gazing into the forest just as he was. Neither of them spoke, only the soft sounds of nature around them. Booth rested his head on his palm and yawned.
When he woke, the sky was darker, but not black, and he was alone. He scrubbed his face with his hands and got up. Booth quietly slid the door open, creeping into the room. True to her word, he saw Brennan had pulled out the sofa and was asleep on the thin mattress. After watching her for just a little too long, he showered and went to bed.
AN: This is going to have 3 parts. I'm working on the last part now, so it will all be posted relatively quickly. I know I have other projects to be working on, but this has been what I've been using as my brain buster when I'm stuck on my other WIPs. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review. I look forward to your opinions or if there was a specific part that you liked.