The Fantasy in Reality


Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

Rating: M (for masturbation)

Pairing: Brennan/Booth

A/N: My first fan fic! The entirety of this story has already been written. There are 5 chapters. Don't worry, there will be an eventual BB. Enjoy, and please review!


It was a Friday night. Papers were arrayed neatly on the floor, table, and the part of the couch that the snoring man wasn't occupying. It was dark outside, even though it wasn't very late in the evening. Food containers for take-out sat clustered on the coffee table.

Temperance Brennan sighed and eyed her sleeping partner from her position on the floor. They were supposed to be checking over the paperwork for their latest solved case. Field notes messily scrawled in notepads were transcribed into a presentable, reader friendly format. Crime scene photos were neatly labeled, explaining in words what evidence each one displayed. Everything a prosecutor would need to convict a criminal sat in front of her, waiting to be reviewed. After all, it would make her team look foolish if they were to leave out an important piece of evidence from the file.

No, not her team. Their team. Her and Booth's. Technically, Cam was the boss of Zach, Hodgins, Angela, and herself, but she was never out in the field. Temperance did all the field work with Booth, relying on everyone back at the lab to alert them to new findings. So she considered Cam and everyone else to be her and Booth's team, no matter what the official hierarchy was.

The FBI agent shifted in his sleep, the volume of his snores diminishing slightly as his head lolled towards the neat checker-board arrangement of case files next to him on the couch. Temperance tensed, waiting for Booth to collapse onto the papers, but the shift of his center of gravity caused by his head movement wasn't enough to tip him over. After a few moments, Booth tipped his head forward a little, and his snores seemed to go back up in volume again.

Gingerly, Temperance picked herself off the floor and stepped over the crime scene photos that were arrayed at the foot of the couch. She gathered the papers that sat next to Booth, putting them back into their correct folder. Those papers would probably need to be rechecked. Careful not to wake him, she eased onto the couch.

Her and Booth. The phrase had taken on new meaning a few weeks ago. An extensive fire had damaged his apartment while he was away, forcing the city to condemn the building. Although none of his possessions were touched by the fire, the structure was too dangerous to allow anyone to enter, least of all live in. So with no place to go, Temperance had offered him her guest bedroom.

Angela, being her usual self, made many jokes about them "moving in together." Temperance ignored her, of course. Nothing changed, except for the fact that they saw more of each other. But that was reasonable. How could you not see more of someone with whom you were sharing an apartment?

Mentally, Temperance shook her head. No, they weren't sharing an apartment. She owned the apartment, and she was just letting Booth stay temporarily. "Sharing" sounded too… domestic. It wasn't like they were a couple. Just two people who knew each other from work. A woman helping out her partner when he had nowhere else to turn. Not couple-like at all.

Temperance traced the familiar features of Booth's face with her eyes. Not couple-like at all. She wouldn't have had a second thought about those words three weeks ago, but… now? She leaned forward, her nose barely touching Booth's hair… and inhaled. Temperance closed her eyes, enjoying her partner's unique scent. Okay, so maybe things had changed.

She wanted Booth.

It was slightly disconcerting to think about. Sure, she'd occasionally had sexual feelings for Booth. He was a well structured man. But living with him seemed to increase the intensity of her desires. And not only did she want to have sex with him, she felt a romantic attraction to him.

Temperance Brennan did not want a committed relationship. In fact, she was supposed to run away from them. But yet, here she was. Enjoying the scent of a sleeping Booth.

Arousal was beginning to build in her nether regions. Usually, she dealt with these feelings by masturbating to orgasm. But between the time-consuming case during the daytime, and Booth oh-so-close in the guest bedroom at night, she'd been unable to find time to achieve release in private. That did nothing to relieve the sexual fantasies involving Booth, which seemed to be increasing in frequency.

Temperance's proximity to Booth wasn't helping, either. Despite being completely unconscious, he was still devastatingly desirable. And it would be too easy to reach out and touch him…

Okay, that's a bad idea. She threaded her fingers together and clamped them between her knees. Fantasies, whether sexual or romantic, were perfectly fine for her to indulge in, as long as she didn't expect them to become reality. In fact, masturbation was a healthy thing. It would clear her mind of Booth-related fantasies temporarily, allowing her to focus on her work. And her partner would be absolutely clueless about her desires, which was good. The less he knew the better.

Temperance suddenly realized that the pressure she was putting on her hands was increasing the pressure between her legs. Hastily, she stopped squeezing her knees together and brought her hand to rest on her thighs. Eleven days. That's exactly how long it had been since her last orgasm. The throbbing ache in her belly told her that she definitely needed a release soon.

Temperance sighed, scooting as close to Booth as she could without actually touching him. She just couldn't get enough of his smell. It wasn't odd that she liked to smell him, was it?

Serial killers are sometimes obsessed with smell. Temperance didn't remember where she'd heard it, but it sounded true. In some cases, serial killers would select their targets based on scent. Or maybe it was stalkers. She didn't know. But in any case, it probably didn't matter. She wasn't a serial killer, or a stalker. The last thing she wanted to do was kill her partner. That wouldn't be any fun for either of them.

She let her eyes shut, bringing a hand to press against the crotch of her pants. Unable to resist, she pressed down hard, sending a little jolt through her body. Temperance knew it was dangerous to masturbate next to her sleeping partner. But with her increased respiration rate, she was taking in more of Booth's delicious scent, which made it hard to stop.

Abruptly, a phone rang. Booth twitched, his arm brushing up against Temperance, but he didn't wake up. The phone rang a second time, and she realized it was Booth's cell phone. Stepping over the photos on the floor, she found Booth's phone on the coffee table. Flipping it open, she hoped that her arousal didn't show in her voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi… is Mr. Booth there?"

Mr. Booth? Feeling inexplicably disoriented, Temperance turned to look at her partner, who was still asleep. "Uh, yes. Who is this?"

"This is Mrs. Fielding," the woman said primly. "I'm from his son's school. Can I talk to Mr. Booth?"

Temperance felt even more confused. School? It was eight o'clock on a Friday night. Confusion wasn't a side effect of masturbation, was it? "Um, he's a sleep. Did something happen to Parker?"

"No, nothing bad. Parker's just a little homesick. He wants to go home, so we need a parent to come pick him up."

"Why's he at school?"

"Oh, not at school. A field trip. Can you wake Mr. Booth up? Parker really wants to go home."

Temperance sat back down next to Booth. "Sure. Hold on please." Gently shaking her partner's should, she tried to wake him up. "Booth. Booth."

He grunted and blearily opened an eye. "Huh?"

Temperance held out the phone. "It's about Parker."

Booth plucked the phone from her fingers, sitting up straighter. "Hello?"

The other side of the conversation was inaudible to her, but Temperance already knew what was going on. She leaned back to observe her partner attend to his fatherly duties.

"Yeah," Booth was saying, "Put him on. Hey bub. You having fun? No? You want me to—uh huh. You want me to come get you?" There was a pause, and a sound suspiciously similar to a sob could be heard from Booth's phone. "Okay, I'll come get you, okay Parker? Just sit tight. Don't worry; I'll be as fast as I can. Okay, see you soon. Love you. Bye… Hi, Mrs. Fielding? I'm just going to pick Parker up… bring him back to my place. His mother? Oh, something for work. I'll be over as quick as possible. Okay, thanks for the call. Bye." He hung up.

"Parker's homesick?" Temperance asked, although she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Booth said, running a hand through his hair. "I guess he doesn't like sleepover fieldtrips to museums." He turned to look at her. "I'm gonna go get him and bring him back here. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Booth," she said. "You think I'd make Parker sleep in the street?"

"All right," he chuckled, levering himself out of the couch. "I think I'll change…" He began unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room and disappeared into the guest bedroom.

Temperance stared after him. She could feel the remnants of her arousal beginning to revive. There was no way she could help herself. Booth was just too perfect a specimen.

A thought struck her. Booth's leaving to get Parker. That means I'll have time alone, right? Yes! It looked like she would have time to masturbate tonight.

Booth came back out of his room, now dressed more casually. He stuck his phone into a pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Okay, I'm leaving. Do you need anything?"

I need an orgasm. "Uh, no," she said aloud. "I'll just get this paperwork cleaned up while you're gone." But I'll be doing more than that, of course. "When will you get back?"

Booth shrugged. "It might take me an hour and a half." He made his way towards the door. "I'll be back, okay?"

Temperance could only nod. "Okay. Bye." The door shut behind Booth. She waited until Booth's footsteps faded down the hall before she got up to lock the door. Feeling excitement at finally being alone, she made her way to her bedroom. Ninety minutes. I have ninety minutes to indulge in fantasies of Booth.