Title: Punctuated Equilibria
Author: Anna (bite_or_avoid)
Pairing: Booth/Brennan
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own them. Although having my very own Seeley Booth would be nice :-)
Spoilers: None explicitly. Does make reference to several episodes, including The Critic in the Cabernet
Punctuated equilibrium is a theory in evolutionary biology which states that most sexually reproducing species will experience little evolutionary change for most of their geological history (in an extended state called stasis). When evolution occurs, it is localized in rare, rapid events of branching speciation. It has also played a role in social and political theory, particularly in policy studies. Theories based on this concept generally attempt to explain patterns of change where periods of "stasis" are punctuated by brief and intense periods of "radical" change. (Thank you wikipedia)
Punctuated Equilibria
1.
The first time is an accident.
Night. Stakeout.
A Chevy Impala replaces his Sequoia, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of this. The feeling of wrongness that's been niggling at the back of his brain ever since this damn case started combines with the feeling of being entirely too close to her for far too many hours. It sets his teeth on edge.
His eyes narrow as he scans the darkened street, gaze trained by years of stalking prey through a rifle's scope. But his focus as of late leaves something to be desired; he has become increasingly aware of her presence. It is a distraction he cannot afford, for her sake if not for his own, so he makes every attempt to drown out the effects of her proximity.
It's all natural biological urges with her anyway.
She pokes his arm gently. His jaw clenches as something in the pit of his stomach tumbles over.
"This is completely irrational, Booth."
For some reason, it relaxes him. They're still them, and the way her mind works sometimes is still a mystery. This is familiar, replacing the strange new tango of the last few months.
He chuckles, eyes still scanning the shadows.
"You're gonna need to be a little more specific."
She sighs, as if explaining something very simple to a very small child. It has long since ceased to bother him.
"I believe we are wasting our time. It would be completely illogical for Mallory to come back here knowing the place has been discovered. He has, in all probability, pulled up sticks and sought out a new location."
"Stakes. Pulled up stakes, Bones. And it isn't about logic. He's connected to this place. He can't just abandon it."
"That's ridiculous. We're talking about his survival."
"He won't see it that way. Mallory feels like he needs to be here. I guarantee you that if we dig deep enough, we'll find a history there."
"That sounds suspiciously like psychology."
The statement sounds suspiciously like a pout, and his focus is completely shattered. He turns to face her, only to find that's she was apparently leaning over his shoulder and is now mere inches away. Way, way too close. Not close enough.
"It's not psychology. It's a feeling. I'm the gut guy, remember?"
He does his best impression of a confident grin.
She shakes her head slightly, but says nothing. She has long since learned that his gut is sometimes more accurate than her logic. And, as stimulating as arguing with him can be, she finds that being close enough to feel his breath on her face is more stimulating still. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips on impulse, and she wonders whether it would offend his Catholic sensibilities if she were to press her mouth to his own. All in the spirit of scientific inquiry, of course.
She is still considering this when a blast, like the discharge of a weapon, cuts through the stillness. She startles and leans forward, even as he lunges instinctively to shield her body with his. But they are far, far too close, and their heads bob together, their lips brushing in the slightest caress. And it's a blast of an entirely different sort, tearing through her disconcerted senses, stoking the embers of a desire that has only recently come to her attention.
He pulls away as if singed, shock rolling off him in waves, and opens his mouth to speak. But in the next instant, he's out of the car and running, and she can only assume that he is chasing after their suspect because running from her would be ridiculous. There is no pause to think as she takes off after him, long legs pounding the pavement in pursuit.
***
Later, when the suspect is in custody and they're both still too wired to go home and sleep, they'll sit in their booth at the diner and steal glances over cups of coffee.
She'll never make fun of his gut again.
He'll never forget the feel of her lips.
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