AN: Man, it's been a while since I've written one of these. Let's see how this goes, shall we? Hope you enjoy. Obviously, nothing at all belongs to me.
He was alone at the diner, on a Friday night, eating his fries with ketchup and self-pity. Parker was up with Rebecca and Captain Fantastic for some fishing trip in the good captain's lodge or something up in Maine. He snorted, dipping another fry in the ketchup. Screw the captain and his 'rustic cabin'. Bones was going to be out too, to some sort of book thing--a publisher's interview or some such thing. At least it wasn't a date. Since he'd woken up from that damn coma-dream and felt his feelings solidify into love--head-over-heels, longing love, even the thought of Bones being out with some loser with a cheap suit and a false smile made him sick.
Well, it was his fault, he thought gloomily. If he'd just tell her, if he'd just stop being being an coward and a loser with those half-assed, lame attempts at showing her what he felt, when he knew she was such a literal person. When he knew she'd been hurt before. Atta girl, his ass.
He glared at the last fry, now cold and limp and very pitiful, trying to decide whether to order pie (which he really wanted, always really wanted--hey! kinda like Bones) or not to order pie (which would really help the self-pity situation), when a very pale hand with very long fingernails appeared into his field of vision, holding a pack of tarot cards. Avalon. He looked up into the fortune-teller's face. She looked worried, something akin to dread clouding her usually ethereal expression.
"Cut the deck, Seeley Booth." She said it soft, like she always did.
"What's going on, Avalon?" he said even as he took the cards from her. She looked so unlike herself, not at ease, not befitting one who could see the future.
She paused before she answered, unsure.
"The spirits--I don't know, they wanted me to talk to you. They wanted me to read for you. Something big is happening, Seeley Booth. The spirits know it. Cut the deck." He nodded. Well, there was nothing much else to do. She looked so determined. And scared. He set the cards down in two neat piles in front of her, then moved his plate to the side as she drew.
"Temperance." The card mirrored his thoughts so easily. He swallowed.
"Bones?"
"It appears to be. She seems to be the only thing this card can refer to, for you." Her eyes met his for a second, far too knowingly for his taste. She turned over another card.
"The Wheel of Fortune. Change. A decision. A crossroads in time. There are two ways your life--and hers--could go." Another card.
"The Lovers. Happiness. Great love. Great passion. Two people becoming one." His eyes snapped up. Could she know? She turned over another card, slowly this time.
"Or. Death." Ice pierced his heart.
"No," he muttered, softly at first. "No. No, no, no. No!" He was staring at her franticly. Death? The last time Avalon had predicted Bones would be in danger, he had gotten there to find her with a fricken knife sticking out of her arm. Death?
"The cards say it, Agent Booth. You are at a crossroads of destiny. Your relationship with Dr. Brennan rests on a single moment. Happiness or death. Are you brave enough to face the challenge and face your feelings? Or will you let the moment slip out of your hands, one last time?"
The bottom was falling out of his stomach.
"But, Avalon, it's Bones, and you know, what if she gets scared away? What if she, what if we, what if it never--"
"No more what ifs, Agent Booth. It's now or never. Go to her. Go to her." She was unnervingly calm. "A crossroads of destiny. Go!"
No need to tell him twice. He remembered last time. He stood up so quickly that his chair nearly tipped over, grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, and slapped down a twenty for his dinner. Avalon watched him hurry down the street before gathering up her cards and walking outside to flag a taxi.
---
Maybe this was a mistake, thought Booth as he stood in the elevator to Bones' apartment. Avalon was very convincing in person. Something about that soft, knowing voice and pancake makeup. Bones would say it was all just psychology, that Avalon was just manipulating people through subtle cues and inferences. Or something. But he couldn't shake that look in the fortune-teller's eyes, that dogged Death. What if Bones--was she in danger now? Death. Oh God. Now or never. He clenched his fists. He loved her. He was not a coward. He'd seen bombs fly at him and bullets shot at him and his best friends die in his arms. And hell if the thought of facing Bones wasn't scarier than all those put together. Steady now, Seeley. He knocked on her door. Thankfully, he heard her shout "Coming, wait a second!" and some rummaging around, heard her look in the peephole and open the door.
"Booth! What are you doing here?" She was wearing a bathrobe and her hair was still damp from a shower and Booth took a second to appreciate how beautiful she was, even without makeup and with her hair dark with water.
"I just, um, came to see you." She opened the door up a bit further to let him in, but still looked confused.
"I have a editor interview today. You knew that, Booth." He swallowed.
"Yeah, I knew that, Bones. But listen, I, I um, I had something to tell you." She looked at him in concern before sitting on the sofa and motioning him to do the same.
"Well, fire." A smile stole over Booth's face in spite of himself.
"Shoot, Bones. Shoot. But, hey--I really need to tell you something and you know, I um, I ran into Avalon at the diner, and she read my cards--" Bones made a small annoyed noise. "Yeah, I know Bones but she did tell me when you got hurt so--" He sighed. Now or never.
"She said something about a crossroads in time, about, about saying something now. And I, well, I--"
She was looking at him with a expression he couldn't really read. But he clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms and steeled his nerves.
"God, Bones--I love you. Not like partners or friends--well, those too, but not just like that. God, I love you. As a woman. Well, you know what I mean. As, as, a person, as two people who are, you know--"
Those ice-blue eyes were boring into him now, expression unreadable as she just stared at him and he fell silent. Oh, God. Did he just screw himself forever? Did he just lose this woman--his love--his best friend? Then, before he even knew it, before he could respond, she was kissing him, a thousand times that mistletoe kiss, her soft lips pressed hard against his as he reciprocated, his hands tangling in her damp, clean hair; tasting her taste, breathing her breathtaking scent. He laughed breathlessly against her lips, relief and happiness flooding him like water from a dam before they broke apart, gasping a little.
"Bones?" She smiled at him, that soft, slow smile of hers that never failed to make his head spin and his heart beat and his pants tighten.
"I thought it was time to take a risk, you know? I've been living kind of--narrow, I guess, and well, you, you happened and I was never supposed to lose myself like that to somebody else, but I, it wasn't my idea, and now I can't go back so I'll take a chance and just--just see where life takes us. Live wide--"
She was cut off as Booth pulled her close and kissed her again.
"What was that for?"
"You were rambling, Bones, but I think I found a new way to shut you up."
"Rambling. I distinctly remember you rambling earlier when you were trying to tell me about your feelings for me."
"And you kissed me and I stopped. Good job, Bones." They grinned at each other."
"So are we--" they said together.
"Yes," they finished. Cliche. Oh, well.
He kissed her again, smiling and feeling her smile against his lips; tasting her mouth and running his tongue over her teeth smoothly, before pulling slightly away to kiss and taste his way down that gorgeous creamy neck to her collarbone and to seriously contemplate that knot at the front of her dressing gown. She gasped a little as he ran his tongue over her collarbone and reached up to pull his shirt off.
"What about that publisher thing?" he mumbled against her neck.
"Screw it," she said, and pulled him down for a long kiss. As they broke apart, she fixed him a look with those summer sky eyes.
"I love you, too, Booth," she whispered. That was when he was lost.
---
Mmm. Bones' bed was really very comfortable. It smelled like her, or maybe that was because she was curled up in his arms, now mostly dry hair against his neck. It was dark and warm and he really didn't care what time it was, because there was Bones, all soft and warm and all, just right there. Bones, who loved him. He couldn't believe it. God. He needed to buy Avalon flowers. Or a car. Or something. He pressed a kiss softly into her hair again. She snuggled closer, though he'd thought that was impossible. He thought he could pretty much stay here with her in his arms forever. Mm. Maybe not. Considering what they'd been doing earlier. He'd definitely needed a repeat of that. A phone rang, interrupting the very nearly perfect moment. He grabbed it from the nightstand, not really processing the fact that his phone would be somewhere down the hall, where his pants were.
"Booth," he muttered into the phone. Bones stirred next to him.
"Booth?! What the hell? Where's Brennan?" It was Angela, and she was reaching dog-whistle heights in agitation.
"Booth. That's my phone," mumbled Bones beside him.
"Yeah, I kinda noticed."
"Who are you talking to? Where the hell is Brennan?" Booth sighed and switched on the speakerphone and handed it over to Bones.
"Ange, I'm right here. What's going on?" At the sound of her voice, the artist sighed in relief.
"Bren, where are you? Aren't you supposed to be at your little publisher thingamajig?" Bones looked a bit guilty. But not really.
"Well, um. Booth came over, and we, um, talked--" She fidgeted and bit her lip. Booth smirked. Just a little. Angela gasped.
"You and Booth?" Angela didn't really sound as sugar-high excited as he'd really expected. Just sort of shocked.
"Um, yeah. We're…yeah." He exchanged a confused glance with Bones.
"Guys. I don't know how to tell you this, but the editor you were supposed to meet was a fake. A flunky. There was a bomb in that building…one of your old enemies planted it…supposed to lure you in, and then--" Shock scored through him. Now or never. Crossroads. Dear Lord.
"But you guys are--you skipped this because--oh, my God!" Ange was really sounding a lot more like her old self.
"Do they need us to come down, Ange?"
"No, they have the guy. Apparently his plans fell through when you didn't show up and an officer spotted the car sitting there and came up. Booth is with you? You'll be fine. They want a talk with you on Monday, but Sweets says it's most likely a single individual."
"Thanks, Ange," said Booth.
"Bren, we are seriously going to talk about this! Do not think I'll forget," said Angela. Well, she was back to normal. Bones exchanged an eye-roll with him.
"'Kay, Ange."
"I'll see you two on Monday."
"Thanks again." Bones hung up. She looked at him in the darkness as the weight of it hit both of them. He silently laced their fingers together.
"That was--if you weren't here, I'd have…It was a, a miracle."
"Bones, you don't believe in miracles." A twitch of a smile. She looked at him in the darkness.
"Maybe I'll start." She kissed him again. "I love you."
His head felt light, and he was sure that nothing, nothing he did could have made him deserve this. And despite that, here she was. "I love you too, Bones. Temperance." He kissed her this time. "And I definitely believe in miracles."
Cliche? OOC? Maybe liked it? Just a tiny lil bit? Just tell me! Any and all comments are appreciated. With internet ice-cream sandwiches and rains of squirrels.