An Alpha Male vs An Alpha Female, a bones fanfic

An Alpha Male vs. An Alpha Female

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

(for language… and, well… my reader's know what I mean when I say 'other stuff'… so… yeah… heh heh).

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Booth reaches a new level of frustration with Brennan after failing to restore their intimacy months after she quit the FBI Academy. AU. Companion piece to TWENTY-ONE WEEKS AT QUANTICO. Oneshot. Complete.

A/N: This is a companion piece to the events detailed in my story "Twenty-one Weeks at Quantico" The events in this piece take place, chronologically, about four months after the events in the final chapter of that story. As ever, annoying flames will be fed to my pet dragon. A good piece of advice... if you don't like the story (be it premise, writing style, plot, characterization, or INSERT RANDOM GRIPE HERE), stop reading, and hit the back button. It's that simple. :)~

Quote: "You know, Bones, I'm not sure you grasp the basic theory on how to get drunk. Hey … what you need to do is order a shot of hard liquor … from a bartender named Shaky. And tell him to, uh, leave the bottle on the bar."

-OPEN WORD DOCUMENT-

I believe I should begin with a bit of an explanation and a lot of exposition...

There are many types of drunks in the world. I have found, from past experience and others telling me after they have observed me in a drunken stupor, as compared with my normal state, that I am… more or less… a truthful drunk. I will spill my guts within about five seconds of having reached a good buzz. That being said, I also have an extremely high tolerance for alcohol… so… fear of spouting off the truth from lack of inhibitions, combined with my rare desire to lose control… well, I don't get totally blasted a lot…. However, when I do… and in recent years this has occurred more often than I used to think it would, especially since I'm getting older… but, usually when I do… well, shots and/or Booth are usually involved.

Now, Booth… Booth is an entirely different type of drink all together. It's very interesting seeing people's natural drunken states. Angela… Angela is a very happy drunk. Hodgins is a philosophical drunk. He will start droning on and on just about any topic if he gets going once he's had a few drinks. Since Angela is a happy drunk… well, she's quite happy listening to Hodgins drone on, so it works. Sully? Now, Sully is a bit of a happy drunk, too, but Payton… Payton is an angry drunk. She becomes very competitive, so happy drunk that he is, Sully usually finds some way to distract Payton's angry competitiveness, and all is right between them. But, Booth? Well, Booth is an aggressive drunk as well… but, unlike Payton, who becomes competitive… usually Booth's aggressiveness will manifest itself in one of two ways. He either becomes angry… or he becomes amorous. Translation: Booth is kind of one of those drunks who either likes to fight or fuck or both, and not necessarily in that order.

So, what happens when you put me, a very controlling person who is a truthful drunk, with Booth, a very controlling person who is an aggressive angry/amorous drunk? Well, a couple of traditional scenarios typically can play out. The both start out the same way. It almost always starts because we usually end up arguing about something quite innocent. In the past, sometimes it has been as simple as him eating the last of the fried rice when he knew I was still hungry... or, it can be as mundane as when we argue about why he continues to feel threatened whenever I want to drive. Booth's aggressiveness is fed by my truthfulness, which, in turn, exacerbates both of our attempts to retain control of the situation. That competition inflames Booth's anger... and he either usually stalks away and broods… or, the more likely scenario, we end up goading each other in a very highly sexualized exchange… and, I would be lying if I said one of us doesn't usually end up thrown to the ground at some point short thereafter. In certain cases when said drinking occurs, followed by the routine goading/bickering for which we are infamous without the alcohol, if Booth hasn't been properly satiated for quite some time before said exchange occurs… well, his amorous behavior really quickly can become influenced by a certain impatient desperation… and then he begins to fight dirty with a goal to simultaneously leave me squirming, begging, and desperate myself... before we have a fantastic, overwhelming set of mutual orgasms.

But, in all the years I've been in a sexual relationship with Booth, I've always known... he's always held *something* back from me. The alcohol-induced sexual exchanges come as close as I've ever think he's come close to not holding back with me. But, to this day, even after everything we've been through... a relationship, a child, moving in together, work, getting married... all of it... not once has he ever given in completely when he was with me. I've always known something more was there. I've always known. It's like a memory that's just at the back of your mind. You know it's there. You've got a general idea of what it is. But, the harder you try to force it to the forefront of your memories, the more elusive it becomes. I've thought about this, I thought about him, I've thought about us, and what he's been dealing with while I couldn't do for him what he did for me in the aftermath of Chrissy's birth. I've thought about it all, and it's made me wonder. All of this had made me wonder over the past few months how he's been dealing with things... on a number of fronts. Mentally? Well, he's been pretty verbal about that. We spent a lot of time talking after his time at Quantico ended, after all. Emotionally, sure... I knew. I could feel it in him. Physically? Well, yeah, I knew that... out of the three, that was probably the one that eventually was grating on him the most, thanks, in part, due to my own actions.

Booth… he has a remarkable stamina for self-deprivation. He wouldn't admit this to just about anyone else… but prior to when he and I had sex under a fig tree in Afghanistan, if had been over a year and a half since he had actually gotten laid. So, like I said, I know he *can* actually deal with the whole sex-deprivation thing if he has to, or, if he wants to... But, I think it is worth pointing out... that... in the two years since that has occurred, he's been able to benefit from frequent and regular sexual encounters with me, which, in his own words he's said are very satisfying. And, well, I've come to wonder if his ability to deal with sexual deprivation was not what it once was. When you're used to regular physical release, and, then, suddenly, it just stops... well, like I said, it takes its toll. And, I'm sure one does have to at least concede the *possibility* that it might not just be a coincidence that over the past few months that our sex life has not been what it once was... and, as others have remarked to me in idle speculation and passing gossip... he's not been as patient or as jovial as he usually is. I believe Angela's humorous question of who started starching his boxer shorts to turn him into such a 'Mr. Cranky-Pants' gives one a good idea of how he's been at both work... and home.

In the interests of full disclosure, during the four months since I had chosen to leave the FBI consultant pilot training program four weeks before I was supposed to graduate from it, things still have been somewhat... *off* between us. I hadn't lied when I told him that I forgave him for what he did in Hogan's Alley that day. I did forgive him. I loved him. And, once upon a time, I had done something to him that hurt him just as much, and, eventually, he found a way to forgive me. That's what we do, apparently, according to Jared. We love each other. We bicker. We fight. We screw up. We hurt each other. We talk. We find a way to make things work. And, then we heal. I take comfort in that fact now, like I never used to be able to... I know, no matter how bag things get between us, that we'll *always* find a way to make things work.

However, like him, after he had found out about the way I had lied to him as Andi, and he required time and space to work through the hurt and pain, I needed time to come to terms with the entire situation. Apparently, by the time that Jared and Padme's impending wedding day approached, I wasn't moving fast enough for him. I mean, okay, I've never been what one might call 'speedy' when it comes to dealing with my emotions. Facts? Thoughts? Straight analytical processes? Those, *those* I can do in a heartbeat. But, anything to do with emotions? It takes me longer, a lot longer. It always has.

So, by the time of Jared and Padme's wedding that June, apparently he was tired of waiting for me to finish whatever healing process I was undergoing. Or, maybe, although he would never admit it, maybe Booth was just tired of being hard up and cranky from lack of sex. Or, maybe, I think, on some level, he knew I was close to being ready anyway, and so it was some combination of the three. He's always known that about me more than I myself have ever been aware when it comes to my feelings. So, he knows when he can push me and, usually, knows when he shouldn't. I was almost ready, he was impatient, and, in Booth's mind, that means it's time to force a confrontation. So, in hindsight, I should have anticipated that he might choose to see if he could change the current state of things between us in some way when he did, as the opportunity to do so presented itself. If I had... perhaps things wouldn't have been so...*volatile*... After all, it was a romantic wedding, we were both going to be there, with an open bar... and, like I said, I should have known that Booth was reaching the end of his proverbial rope on a number of fronts... but I didn't... and even still, it's really not surprising that zany hijinx were going to ensue.

After that night we talked, I apologized, and he apologized, and I gave him a new bottle of scotch to commemorate the moment. It was very good scotch that he loves, but never buys for himself because he thinks it's too expensive. We drank one drink to christen the bottle... and then I cried, and he held me, and I held him... and we crawled into bed... but, somewhat unusually... we didn't make love. I... letting him back in like that... after all that had happened... I... having had sex that night would have just been *too* much. So, after that night, Booth was no longer confined to the couch, and slept with me in our bed again, but... we didn't have sex that night, and nor did we on any of the nights after it. So, like I said, the past four months have been… great for us in some ways... and strained in others.

We both needed time. We needed time to work on our relationship, how to balance it between the many different demands placed upon it by marriage, parenthood, and work. He needed time to forgive me for, in anger, doing the very thing I had accused him of doing that day in the Alley - using personal knowledge to intentionally hurt him. I needed time to deal with how much he hurt me by throwing the biggest fear of my life in my face that day for everyone to see publicly *and* deal with the root cause of that paradigm shift.

That night when we made the decision to fix things, that was the one thing that I couldn't tell him... I wasn't ready to share yet. I was still processing it, grappling with it in all its many forms and the ramifications said forms had on my life. I also think, in some ways, I think I subconsciously linked the acts of becoming intimate with him again physically with becoming fully intimate with him emotionally as signified by telling him about how Chrissy had changed my life. I *had* promised him I would tell him. But, in those first few months, I wasn't ready yet... to talk, to tell him. So, I hadn't yet, and we didn't yet... and that's how it started.

It used to be that my greatest fear in life was being abandoned by those who love me. It's a deep-rooted, albeit traditional, fear stemming back to my childhood… no surprise there… but, what no one knows is that it is *now* my second biggest personal fear in life. It changed, you see, when I became a mother. When I gave birth to my daughter, my greatest fear shifted… don't be surprised when I say it's still related to the first one… but in some ways, it is much, much worse, because every single day since Christine was born, I've feared doing to her what was done to me. It took being in Hogan's Alley that day… being forced to confront a number of issues that developed for me in the time since she was born, to realize it. My greatest fear now is not being abandoned by my loved ones… no, it's now my fear that someday, somehow, for some reason, even if it is an act done out of love... I'll be forced to do to Chrissy what was done to me… and knowing what that did to me, I can't bear the thought of my little girl going through what I went through. So, that's what terrified me most… I fear having to abandon my baby girl for some reason… and that's not a small paradigm shift to conquer... especially when the epiphany finally comes when you're being ordered to take out a suspect with your rifle during an FBI tactical training scenario in front of about 50 witnesses... including Booth. So, I wasn't lying, as I said, when I told Booth that I forgave him… but I did need some time… a lot of time, actually… and space, too.

However, when you're married to someone… when you have a child together… you can't just up and cut yourself off from your family. I couldn't run, I didn't want to run. So, over the past four months, I've done what I had to do to make it work, just like he had, because that's what Booth and I decided was a foundational value upon which our relationship would be built right from the very beginning. At the same time, I've had to figure out a way to get some control back in my life… and to rationally deal with all that happened between us… the pain, the hurt…and, most importantly, trust *myself*, trust in *myself* that I would never do to Chrissy what was done to me.

Then, on a practical side, there is the small issue of the fact that a small... inequality still lay between us that needed to be rectified. After the way that I betrayed him with the lies that came part and parcel with the Andi Anderson debacle in Afghanistan, I spent a lot of time making amends to him. One way... one of the most painful ways, but one of the most important ways that I tried to show him how sorry I was... I spent a lot of time during those first three months after we got together telling Booth things. I told him things... difficult things... that I had never told anyone else. It was the only way I could think to let him know how much I trusted him, how sorry I was that I had violated his trust. I had hurt him with lies... and so used the truth to try to bring things back into balance for him... and us, by giving him the metaphorical weapons to inflict the same type of damage on me if he so chose. It's a bit ironic, isn't it? Since the very hurt I feared suffering at his hands after I told him those things in the months after our romantic relationship began, when I finally was hurt, it wasn't because of something that I had told him then.

So, aside from needing time and space to handle the whole fear/paradigm shift... there was still the issue that... God - again, as usual, merely a metaphorical exclamation - he hurt me. Intentional or unintentional... perhaps just collateral damage as he did his job... carried out a duty honorably because he made the commitment... honestly, that being one of the character traits that I've always loved about Booth... but, still he hurt me. And, while he did apologize for hurting me in the course of our professional lives intersecting at a rare moment with our personal ones... all this time... he's never tried to make make it up to me like I did for him after Andi. Aside from trying to repair the relationship, Booth has never really done anything that might be considered a gesture like I did. Maybe it's because he's male and just doesn't think of these things like I, a female, do, but such a fact gnawed at me.

During the past four months, we've gotten up in the morning, worked cases just like always, come home for dinner, spent time with Parker and Chrissy, had family outings, talked with each other about issues and concerns we have in trying to rebuild the relationship, and then gone to bed just like always. The only thing that was missing, the only thing that had changed was fact that were weren't having sex.

Heh… no sex. Heh.

While we hadn't had sex in all those months, it hadn't been from lack of trying on Booth's part… because he tried... he did... but he didn't succeed... because of my lack of response. His realization of this knowledge was never one point where I blatantly drew a line in the middle of our bed and proclaimed "Seeley Booth, across this line you shall not pass!" There was not a grandstanding moment where I said, "Booth, I'm still hurting, still healing, still thinking... and, by the way, until we finish fixing things between us, I'm just not comfortable having sex with you."

In reality, I think he got the message over a period of time. It was a very subtle realization process. In the first few days after our initial fight... a day before Christmas... he was gone at the Academy finishing the four remaining weeks of training. We were on opposite schedules… and both of us were very tired when we were in the same place at the same time. He knew that it wouldn't be good for either one of us to be around the other for a few days because the pain was just too much, and so... actually, the fall out from the fight lasted from the end of December until the beginning of February when we made our peace that night. I suppose I should technically say it's been six months since we had sex... hmmm, I hadn't just realized that until now... so... yeah, six months. Was the last time we really slept together that night under the Christmas tree? Huh... I hadn't realized... but, anyway... he was sleeping on the couch then... when he wasn't sleeping at the Academy or crashing at Jared and Padme's... and, the hurt of what happened was kinda too raw... so... months one and two gone.

Then, the pilot program ended… and Booth was liberated from the penalty box that was our couch. The higher ups began to review the results of the experiment… and Booth was reassigned to his normal set of duties at the Hoover, including working cases with me as they were contracted out to the Jeffersonian. Our schedules were back on the same cycle… but… I still didn't feel ready to tell him yet. And, I had reveled in being able to spend as much time with Chrissy as I had during between Christmas and Valentine's Day… and a certain emphasis on my maternal duties hadn't made me feel very sexual. I just delighted in being 'Mommy'... especially once she started to talk... even if her first word was 'no'... Gradually, the rawness of the hurt I felt because of what happened dulled, and I started to re-embrace the intimacies of our lives... the causal comfortableness that defines the very best kinds of marriages between two people. But, apparently, when Booth saw me thawing towards him in one aspect of our relationship, he took that to me I was receptive to him on all fronts. And, I wasn't. Not yet.

And, so, I think he was surprised, but confused, when a couple of early morning attempts to pull me in for a tumble were lightly rebuffed. Another attempt to kiss me in the SUV on the way home after a case was lightly deflected. And, finally, one evening when I was working on my laptop in bed, and Booth was watching the end of the baseball game… the game ended, and he had turned off the TV, and started watching me for a while. I felt his eyes on me, and when I looked, sure enough, he was studying me… eyes having dilated, irises darkened… he was turned on by what he saw… and when he leaned over, and his hand reached up to cop a feel of my breasts under the tank I was wearing to bed that evening, he was stopped cold by the look I shot him.

"No?" he had asked in what was almost a timid tone... well, it was timid for Booth, anyway.

I had frowned. "I-I I'm working, Booth," I said, caught off guard by his brazen act... and then the demure response to my unfavorable reaction to that response.

"Bones—" he had said, his voice dropping an octave. He was already turned on... how *one* mere touch of my breasts did it, I don't know... but... he was looking at me... and I wouldn't be surprised if he had gotten semi-hard already... and he was looking at me and asked softly, "Can't work wait?"

Sure, work could... but I couldn't... I panicked... and then said, shaking my head, I said, "No, it can't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he almost pleaded.

"Really," I repeated.

Something in my tone caught his attention, and he knew he was being blown off. Sighing, he pulled back, and nodded. "Okay..."

Rolling over, he reached to turn off the lamp on his night stand, and lay with his back facing me. I watched him intermittently for a couple of minutes. His breathing was shallow and ragged… and I could tell he was trying to control it. I worked a bit longer, and by the time I next looked up, he breathing had evened out… but, when he woke up the next morning, he was in a decidedly cranky mood… the first of many moods to come over the next few months. Month three gone.

During the month of April he apparently decided to view my refusal to acquiesce to his sexual overtures as a challenge… and, if there was something that Booth loved, it was a challenge... particularly any challenges set before him by me... especially if they have to do with sex. And, so he moved on to the next step in the Booth protocol for when I was being difficult about something. He tried to put me in a position so that my own sexual gratification would demand his participation… and thus ease his own proverbial drought as a mere byproduct of me attaining my own goal. He thought he was so suave, so cute that fourth month. And, looking back, in a way, it really was adorable… all the effort he put into things... and, yes, I started to feel... more receptive to him than I had in months... but, I still wasn't ready... and so I knew I wouldn't be conceding in the matter... despite his best efforts to the contrary.

It started with a hair cut. He knew that I liked his hair cut a certain way… longer on the top so he could still do his mussed hair thing with the gel… but short in the back and on the sides so I could run my fingers through it. Normally, ex-military (and extremely vain) man that he is… Booth gets a hair cut every four weeks on the dot… each first of the month. But, one morning he was late to the lab to pick me up for a case… and I noticed it immediately… he had gotten a hair cut… and it was the 13th. Hmmm….

It continued with his choice in apparel. Booth knows that if there is one thing that I find him incredibly sexy in… it's his suits. Preferably the darker ones… his black pinstripe is probably my favorite. He started wearing his suits more often… even to the point of going to the crime scenes in them more often. The amount of laundry we were doing went down that month as there were less t-shirts and jeans that had been worn… and the amount of dry cleaning we had increased, as he was wearing his suits more frequently.

He also upped the ante by strategic pseudo-public touches in public. When we were at the lab, he would lean in just a bit too close to me. In my office, he would bump my hip when reaching for a file or when we were looking at a graphic. In the SUV, he would let his hand linger on my thigh for just a moment longer than he normally would… and then, master subtle tactician that he is… he pulled out the final part plan of trying to seduce me… by flashing me *my* smile… being as charming as ever… and attempting to get me in a place where he could stick his tongue down my throat to try to get me to cave.

The first time was in the kitchen when we were making dinner… and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a good kiss. However, Booth has always been a good kisser… but, when he cornered me for that kiss… for once, I didn't respond. The look he had one his face… one of utter surprise… and shock… it was so pitiable that I almost gave in… I had *never*… not once… ever been kissed by him and not kissed him back. I wasn't mean about it… I just… I just wasn't in the mood, and was, just a teeny, tiny bit... starting to feel a bit competitive about it. I wasn't going to give in until *I* was ready... and he had made things right between us. So, I smiled with a nod, and tried to soften the blow by saying, "Thanks, Booth… now, can you please pass me the Parmesan cheese?"

The second time was in the entryway of our apartment… another golden oldie… we were going to meet the team for drinks at the Founding Fathers… and I had stopped, juggled my purse as I was looking for my phone… and then he had me pinned up against the door, and was kissing my neck in a way that normally means we were going to be late… but… again, this time… I… I just didn't respond. He felt the stiffness in my body, and he pulled away almost immediately. This time, this time… he had a small look of hurt… and mild offense in his eyes, maybe? I again, nodded, smiled, and said, "Ready to go? We don't want to be late."

I think the third and final time he decided to pull out the equivalent of an A-bomb and lob it at me to see what would happen in his plan to get me to surrender unconditionally happened when he caught me one night, just getting into the shower. Booth also knows that if there is one thing that I've always told him I loved and found more sexy about him than anything… aside from him in his suits... it was him, wet, in our bathtub… and when he threw open the shower curtain, with a bit of a predatory gleam in his eye… he stopped whatever his plan to proceed had been when I looked over my shoulder and frowned as I said, "Booth… be careful… you're getting water all over the floor!" Complete disbelief shown on his face… he knew immediately I wasn't joking... and he promptly mumbled his apologies… and left… and didn't try anything again after that. Month fourth gone.

Month five was spent in a complete deadlock, the stalemate showing absolutely no movement on either side. Apparently, my actions to date really had shocked Booth *that* much.

We were entering our sixth month of the new no-sex aspect of our relationship when I realized that Jared and Padme's wedding was quickly approaching. Booth, obviously, was the best man, and Padme had asked me to serve as one of her bridesmaids. The guest list was an eclectic mixture… that included Cam (Jared had known her forever) and her boyfriend Paul… as well as Sully and Payton Perotta, and a few other FBI agents who Jared had come to know through Booth's hockey team. Initially, I had some concern about what do to about the issue of Chrissy… but, really Chrissy herself provided the answer to the situation when Padme asked if she could be the flower girl. Quite simply… at approximately 18 months… she just wasn't big enough to walk and carry a basket of flowers as Padme and Jared had hoped. So, to my father's she went for the night… and to the wedding Booth and I went.

It was a lovely ceremony… and, fortunately, Padme didn't dress me in some hideous bridesmaid's abomination. It was actually a simple royal blue a-line dress with spaghetti straps. No bows, no belts… just the dress, my heels, and an orchid in my hair. Booth looked good as he always did in the standard black tuxedo… the affair was actually quite uncomplicated, very classy... really very simple, all things considered.

Now, there should have been three tip-offs that I should have picked up on, as I mentioned earlier, to alert me that some type of change in things between Booth and I would come as a result of the wedding. First, if the ceremony had gone simply… well… I should have known that the reception and after-party wouldn't. As I said, we were going into a situation where neither Booth nor I had had sex in six months. Then, there was the issue that a number of Padme's single female friends who (like the rest of most of the world were unaware that Booth was taken) had apparently set their sights on the groom's good looking older brother… it was a wedding, he looked damn sexy in his tux… and it was a *wedding*. I suppose the corollary about Jared's unmarried male friends and myself is also true, although I didn't think of that at the time. And, of course... the piece de resistance... there was an open bar… and like I said… Booth is an aggressive drunk… and I am a truthful drunk… and when those two mindsets come face-to-face… yeah, well, like I said… I should have known *something* was going to happen.

Heh.

Jared and Padme, in the interests of having a more intimate wedding experience, had decided not to have a head table for the bridal party. Instead, smaller tables of six-to-eight individuals were scattered around a large dance floor. Brennan sat at a table with Booth, Cam and her boyfriend Paul, Sully and Perotta, and two FBI agents named Steve and Ralph that Brennan only vaguely remembered as having played on Booth's hockey team and had come without dates in the hopes of hooking up. Jared and Padme sat at another table with Rebecca and Parker (who had been the cutest ring bearer), Padme's parents, and Booth's grandfather Hank.

The night started off well enough. They ate, they danced, they chatted with their friends. Brennan, in particular, realized in talking with Cam how long it had been since they had had a chance to socialize outside of the lab or the occasional happy hour at the Founding Fathers. As the night pressed on, Brennan somehow lost track of how much she had been drinking. It kind of got confusing to her when, each time one of their table's members got up and was going to the bar, they asked her what she was drinking. It started with Booth bringing her a glass of champagne. Sully followed that with a glass of red wine. Cam's boyfriend Paul brought them each another glass of red wine. Booth returned with another glass of champagne… and Brennan absentmindedly noticed that with each glass that he brought her, he was carrying his own amber colored concoction. At some point, she went to the bar herself, smiled at the bartender, and came away with a very potent whiskey sour that would only be described as a mere double by even the most conservative of individuals. After that, Payton later handed her a fresh whiskey sour, apparently the bartender knowing for whom it was intended when she tasted it… and that was when it started to get a little fuzzy. She knew the more alcohol she consumed, the more her inhibitions lowered… and the more she was apt to be very susceptible to the right type of suggestion. The right type of suggestion came when, at some point, Booth had disappeared, and one of Jared's Navy compatriots decided to make his move.

He was a very nice looking young man… although, a small portion of Brennan's mind rationalized, he couldn't be *that* young if he had attained the rank of commander in the Navy. He was wearing his formal dress whites… and, although she wouldn't willingly admit it… there was *something* that appealed to her about a guy in uniform. She suspected that was why she liked it best when Booth wore a suit. And, so, when the exuberant Navy commander inquired about the tall brunette bridesmaid… and when he asked the wrong people who she was… and if she was single? Well, the wrong people told him the told the exact wrong things… and he had not wanted to bother the groom or anyone else in the family, because, if he had, he would have been politely told *not* to go hitting on that particularly woman. But, the charming young man came up and smiled at Brennan. He introduced himself, charmed himself when he saw her smile, and asked if she cared to dance. Brennan thought about it for a moment, thinking, indeed, it had been a while since she had been out on the dance floor, and, not seeing Booth anywhere nearby so that he could dance with her, she accepted the offer. Sully was the only one who watched as the Navy commander, whose name was Chris, guided Brennan out onto the dance floor.

On the opposite side of the room, Booth continued to drink his… well, he wasn't sure what number drink he was on, but he wasn't driving tonight. He had done his duties as best man - the ring had been procured, the toast had been given, he had danced with the matron of honor and all the bridesmaids and been his normal charming self while doing it… but, now, here he was… brooding by himself at a corner table because he knew the wedding was almost over, he was running out of time, and still wasn't any closer to breaching Brennan's walls. And, so, aside from occasionally being distracted as Parker danced a silly dance with Rebecca, he was strategizing/brooding… when he felt someone sit down next to him and push over a fresh drink in his direction.

"As an ex-expert on the stuff, I know from past experiences… if it doesn't help… at least it'll make the night pass more quickly," Jared said with a nod.

Booth frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be dancing with your bride?"

Jared shrugged. "We've danced… about twenty times now… and she wants a break… so I though I would come over here and see why my nephew thinks his father is 'doing his big bad scary cop thing' in the corner."

"I'm not brooding," Booth immediately said. He did, however, take the drink Jared offered.

"Okay," his brother conceded. "But, Seeley, if you aren't brooding… why are you over here, sitting by yourself… when you're supposed to be over there with your friends... and Tempe, and having a fabulous time?"

Booth was silent for a moment before he said, "Because I'm thinking."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Booth said.

Jared took a breath before he said softly, "Are things still… off between you two?"

Booth looked at him over the edge of his glass as he said, "You could say that."

"So," Jared said, lowering his voice, even though he knew no one was close enough to hear them. "That last… thing… it didn't work?"

"No," Booth said. "And, I was an idiot for asking your advice on that one anyway."

"You aren't going to tell me what happened?" Jared said with a chuckle.

"No," Booth said, flushing with embarrassment as he recalled Brennan's remonstrance when he had interrupted her in the shower… a move that had come about as a result of Jared's vague but momentarily inspired advice….

"She's told you when she thinks you're at your most sexy, right, Seel"? Jared had asked.

"I am so not having this conversation with you," Booth had replied.

"You don't need to, big brother," Jared said. "All I'm saying is… you gotta know when she thinks you're at your most sexy… and so… whenever that is… that's when to catch her. If she doesn't give into that… well, then, your sorta fucked, Seeley. Because, it means this isn't just a downturn in the cycle… it means she doing it on purpose… and, for a woman as sexual as Tempe—"

"Jared, that is my *wife* you're talking about," Booth growled.

"And my sister-in-law, I know," Jared said. "But, my point is valid… if a woman like her is still rebuffing you after that… you got bigger problems than you thought…"

"Okay, then," Jared said, nodding at his brother. "Then, all I can say is God be with you in your quest tonight."

"What quest?" Booth said, his head snapping up.

Jared laughed, and nodded at the dance floor. "If my eyes aren't deceiving me, I think Tempe just went out onto the dance floor with Chris Richards…."

"That squid who thinks he's God's gift to women, and, by the way, while we're on the topic, honestly, Jared, I still don't know why you're friends with after all these years?" Booth asked.

Jared nodded. "That would be the one."

His lips pursed, Booth's brooding suddenly transitioned into something else entirely. He had had an epiphany, crystallized by his jealousy of another man's hands on his wife, no matter how innocent the situation. He was Seeley J. Booth... FBI agent... former Army Ranger... and goddamn it, when he wanted something, he went and got it. Sometimes, he mused, sometimes the simple plans are the best. He wanted his wife, so he would go and get her. He stood, took his drink, and downed what was left of it. The warmth of the whiskey flowed through his veins like liquid courage as he nodded at his brother. "Have fun in Jamaica. Give Padme a kiss for me. And leave a voice mail for me when you guys get there, huh?"

Jared's eyebrows arched. "And, so I take it that you won't be seeing us off in a couple hours?"

"No," Booth said, as he quickly scanned the dance floor for Brennan. "I'm sorry… but I don't plan to be here for more than about ten more minutes."

Jared stood and saluted his brother with a grin, realizing what was coming. "Normally, I'd never back a ground-pounder against a squid, but, in this particular instance… like I said, vaya con Dios, big brother."

Sully sat at the table with only Cam remaining. Perotta and Paul were on the dance floor… as was Brennan, who was currently keeping a fairly fast pace with a naval official whom Sully didn't realize. Cam was the first one to see the brooding concentration of hostility that was Seeley Booth approach the dance floor.

Frowning, she said, "Oh, dear. That doesn't look good."

Sully leaned forward in his seat and said, "Hmmmm?"

Cam nodded. "Ummm… Booth… he's…."

"I know that look," Sully said, getting to his feet. "I know that look very, very well. He's…ummmm…. he's…."

"Pissed off," Cam said, finishing the sentence. "Yup, I know that look, too. He's pissed off about something, and looks very, very determined."

"Hmmm… and he's heading directly for Tempe…." Sully said. He looked to Cam and said, "Think we should go over there?"

Cam was silent for a second before she smiled and said, "Maybe we should wait a minute… you know… see what happens?"

Sully considered this for a moment before he said, "You think something's going on between them, too, don't you?"

"Yes," Cam admitted. "For a while now. But…"

"But, no one's been able to prove it," Sully finished.

Cam nodded. "At least not among the squints."

"Us agents don't have anything more to offer than it sounds like you guys do," Sully said. "But, something's definitely going on..."

"I don't like to point this out, but I've known Booth a *long* time... and having slept with him before... I know when something's up with him-"

"I've seen the same thing in, Tempe," Sully admitted. "Not often... but every now and then... and more frequently over the past year or so. She'd look at him or do things when she didn't think anyone was watching, and I know those looks. We weren't together that long, but she's different with someone she's having sex with..."

"Booth, too," Cam agreed.

"So... how long have you guys been thinking they're hiding something?' Sully asked.

"You mean more than the normal 'we're just partners' thing?" Cam asked.

Sully nodded.

"At least since she got back from that sabbatical she had to teach the course in Chicago last year... err... a year and a half ago, I guess? Maybe a little less. It's been ebbing and flowing, but if I had to put my finger on a start date, it would be then," Cam said. "What about you?"

"I honestly don't know," Sully said. "Initially, I thought... maybe they got into something after he broke up with his Afghanistan girlfriend a couple of summers ago? Angela told you about that night that Tempe saw him in the bar with the blonde draped all over him?"

"Yup," Cam said, reminiscing. "After such a huge build up, when they showed up the next week like nothing had changed between them... it was disappointingly anti-climatic."

"Yeah, well, I thought, maybe then, but... then she left, and if they had started up something, I couldn't see her just up and leaving for five months to Chicago, you know?" Sully mused.

"So that puts us back the winter she came back," Cam said. "That was just a few months before she left to go to Quantico."

Sully nodded.

"If something hasn't happened already," Cam mused, watching as Booth walked over to Brennan and cut in on her dance, "I'd think it might be a good bet to say that something's happening right now?"

Sully glanced over, and said, "I'd say that sounds about right."

"So…" Cam said. "Want to watch?"

"Okay," Sully said, sitting back down. "But, only until Booth tacks a swing at that guy…. We don't want things to get out of hand too quickly…."

"Oh, I don't know," Cam pondered. "I don't think Booth will get to do anything more than scare the guy away before Brennan does something."

Looking at her, Sully smiled. "Wanna bet?"

Cam reached into her purse, and pulled a twenty dollar bill out. "You bet."

Sully nodded with a grin. "You sure?"

Cam looked back and nodded, "Yup, I'm still more interested to see what Dr. Brennan is going to do when Booth – oh, yeah. There he goes..."

You know the situations where everything seems to be happening at a speed that is not the one at which life seems to normally operate? The instances where things are either going too fast, too slow… or just slow enough so that you know your perception of reality is just a second or two out of sync with the rest of the world? Well, it turned out... my time on the dance floor with Chris was about to become one of those situations.

By the time I was on the dance floor, doing nothing more than dancing with Chris to that Katy Perry song… appropriately, the one about getting into trouble on a Friday night because of drinking too much alcohol… well, one second we were dancing… the next second, I sensed more than saw the force that was Seeley Booth approaching… and the next second after that, a second that lasted for a minute, I was being yanked… hard… off the direction of the dance floor. And, that's when things went back and forth from moving incredibly slow... to extremely fast... and back again.

"Excuse us," Booth said, cutting in on Brennan's dance with the naval officer. "I'm sorry, but we have to be going. Tell the squid thanks for the dance, Bones."

Chris stared in befuddled confusion at Booth. However, his wits kicked in… and then he realized who was talking… and he recognized him as not only the groom's older brother and best man… but, also as the former Army Ranger with a well-known nasty temper, given the right situation… and he backed away with his hands in concession.

"Thank you for the dance, Temperance."

And, then, just like that, he was gone.

Anger flared in Brennan's eyes. Her lips pursed, she shook her head and pointed at him. "How dare you!"

"How dare I what?" Booth growled.

"You… you have no right to simply cut in when I was dancing with Chris like that and be so rude about it," Brennan sputtered.

"Yes, I do. I know that guy, Bones. He's one of Jared's most promiscuous friends… and he was only dancing with you for one reason," Booth intoned.

Cam and Sully had both edged their way a bit closer to the dance floor, sitting at a vacant table so that they were out of Brennan and Booth's line of vision, but still could see and hear everything that was being said.

Sully handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Here," he said. "You were right, but- I'll go double or nothing that Booth gets her out of her before she can do anything."

"You know for someone that was in a relationship with her... and then has worked with her all this time, you sure don't know her very well, do you?" Reaching into her clutch, Cam waved two twenty dollar bills in the air. "I say that Brennan slugs Booth first if he lays a hand on her."

Sully nodded his agreement.

Grinning, Cam said, "You're on."

Again, as I said, I should have known something was going to happen... not that it probably would have mattered. I don't think I would have acted any differently had I know what was going to happen. *Something* had to happen. The stagnation was beginning to kill us metaphorically... and so alcohol - open-bar type quantities of alcohol - me, the truthful drunk, and Booth, the angry drunk, and months of sexual repression and frustration the likes of which neither of us had seen since the good old days when we were 'just partners'. It was definitely the longest we had gone without making love, including when I was on bed rest before Chrissy was born. and after her delivery. And, here I was thinking initially that I might be the one to crack when someone hit on Booth. Yeah, I was wrong about that one... and that was the thing that ended up prompting the end of our stalemate, funny enough.

"He was hitting on you, Bones," Booth said. The pair had moved off the dance floor, and were talking in animated, but quiet enough tones so that only those who knew who they were really even bothered to watch the exchange.

"He asked me to dance, Booth," Brennan said. "That's it. Just like Sully… and Paul… and Jared… and your grandfather… and Parker…. and about a dozen other guys I've danced with tonight."

"It's not my fault if you're too out of it to see it," Booth said. "You can thank me later," he then said with a very full-of-himself smirk on his face.

"Oh," Brennan said, suddenly flushing with indignation. "You think… you think… I'll be thanking you later?"

"Yes," Booth said smugly.

"You are just too egotistical, you know that?"

"Oh, come on, Bones... we know... you've just been dying to find some excuse to show me how much you've missed me. Dancing with another guy to make me jealous... not very original, by the way, but it did get my attention. So, yes, you will be thanking me later... for many things... and, if you're very, very lucky... I will, perhaps, kindly accept your thanks… and perhaps, just perhaps, I will allow you show me how grateful you are."

Brennan's eyes widened and then narrowed as she said, "You smug, self-righteous jackass."

"Sticks and stones, Bones, sticks and stones," Booth taunted her.

"That's it," Brennan said, "I've had just about all I can take of you and your testosterone-bloated ego for one night, Booth. I'm out of here."

She turned to walk in the direction of her table to retrieve her clutch bag… when Booth grabbed her arm… hard. She looked down at it, and then back to him, realizing that he was gripping it very, very tightly.

"You are *not* leaving until we're done talking," he said, a bit of a menacing growl coming into his voice.

Brennan stopped… froze actually… not out of fear… but fury. She looked down at where his hand was holding hers… a bit too tightly… she could see his finger prints turning her delicate pale skin red in irritation. Her blue eyes flashed intensely, as she said, in a very, very measured voice, "I 'm only going to say this to you one time, Booth. LET. GO. OF. MY. ARM."

"No," Booth said, tightening his hold on her arm.

And, then, in a very, very fast whirl of motion, Brennan acted. Booth, well, he should have known better. She had *never* liked being touched so abruptly or without her consent. Brennan, not wanting to hurt him, nor make a scene, but realizing she had to get free, tried to be as gentle as possible when she moved to twist out of his grasp. He countered her move by pulling her more tightly to him an a crushing embrace. She panicked, and, acting on instinct, stamped down on the instep of his left foot as quickly as possible. Booth groaned in pain, but Brennan took advantage of his momentarily lapse in concentration, and moved. Realizing how fast things could degenerate in public if they weren't careful, Brennan moved as fast she she could, both knowing and expecting him to follow.

Cam saw Booth grab Brennan's arm.

Sully saw Brennan's glance at the arm as she muttered something to Booth.

Neither saw it when Booth tightened his grasp on Brennan's arm.

Jared, out of the corner of his eye, saw Brennan's attempt to slip out of his brother's hand hold.

Both Cam and Sully watched with glee as Booth pulled Brennan tightly to him and held her as they exchanged more words.

Neither Hank, Rebecca, or Parker saw it when Brennan stamped on his instep and Booth went down with a large grunt, as they were occupied on the opposite side of the banquet hall.

Brennan didn't care enough to look at either Cam or Sully as she breezed past them, grabbed her purse, and stalked out of the room… and then Sully nodded at Cam as she took the two twenty dollar bills she was waving, and placed them back in her purse with a grin.

"Told ya," she said with a knowing look. "She doesn't like being touched and doesn't really react well if she doesn't want the physical contact."

"Well, yeah, I know that," Sully admitted. "But... never with Booth. He's been touching her for years, but I've never seen him with his arms on her like that."

"Not quite," Cam thought, thinking back on his fake funeral from several years before... "But, you're right... if she's reacting to *Booth* like *that*... and he's touching her like *that*... then *something's* definitely going on between the two of them. I think we may have just finally gotten some proof."

I'm not sure what I was thinking at that point. I do know that I was… well, there was a *LOT* of adrenaline coursing through my body. And, I think, I do remember that two very clear goals echoed in my head. I had to leave… and I had to leave fast. He… Booth wasn't the type of man to let something like that remain unanswered. The aggressiveness of his touch seemed to indicate he wanted to have the kind of conversation really not conducive to being had in a semi-public setting like his brother's wedding.

And, so, I ran. I did have a head start on him… not much of one, but enough to grab my purse… barrel out of the hotel… and - somewhat rudely from the perspective of a waiting couple - jump in a cab that had just arrived at the valet station. Assuming that it would take Booth a moment to recover from where I had stomped on his foot – and make no mistakes, I think it had rather hurt given the heels I was wearing. So, a minute to physically recover, maybe two…a minute more to look for me… a minute more to realize what I would do and follow… conservatively, I had a four-minute head start on him… and then the fifteen minute cab ride back to our apartment. I ran, he would follow… and, then, I'm not quite sure what was going to happen once we would have the talk he wanted to have.

I didn't view this as a game, but… he grabbed me, and he's never grabbed me like that… not since… not since that one time during the Gemma Arrington case. And, he had this look in his eyes… so arrogant… so… male! And… dangerous… it was dangerous… and it was taunting me, daring me. And… presumptuous… that was what I think the final thing was… aside from his desire to have that type of conversation, I knew I couldn't back down. No fucking way...

Hmmm… now that I think of it... there's another thing that tends to increase for me when alcohol and Booth are involved - the foul language. I wouldn't admit this anywhere else but here since I know I'm going to delete this file as soon as I'm done typing it out. That's the beauty of a writing exercise like this, isn't it? I can write whatever I want, however I want, and it doesn't matter. For the most part, I write as I think things in my head. I am a prize-winning and very famous best-selling rich author, after all. So, I do know how to write. But, here, here I can write anyway I want, how I want. If I didn't want to capitalize words that I know need to be capitalized, I could (even though I never would because that is just offensive). I can dangle my participles, leave my modifiers hanging, over use stylized punctuation like ellipses if I want to since it seems to have become a habit I've fallen into using to denote a pause in speech or a delay in my thought processes or actions. I can start a sentence with the word 'because' or 'so' even though I would never do that in my formal writing because that is not grammatically acceptable in such formal writing. Hell, I can even pepper my sentence structure with long-run on sentences or end a sentence with a preposition, and it doesn't matter. Because, if someone doesn't like my style or wording, it really doesn't matter because I'm only doing this for me. I'm writing it, someone else isn't, and since I am, and they're not, and because this is for me anyway as I'm the only one who's reading it, the only one who has to be happy with how it turns out is *me*. I am as I am. When I screw up, and it does happen, I can take the criticism. I may not always agree with it, but I am as I am. I know my value, and long ago I learned that it doesn't matter what other people think about me. So, here, with that in mind, I can go off on another tangent.

The cursing… I… I normally don't curse. I… well, to be quite honest… it's a sign of decorum. People with class don't curse in most situations… unless… well, unless an expression is warranted… or elicited. And, during my time in Afghanistan… it was a war zone… I was trying very hard to differentiate myself, my diction (Brennan's diction) from Andi Anderson. And, so, Andi cursed… a fair amount. But, normally… *me*… I just don't curse beyond the occasional colorful metaphor. Unless… well, unless it's in my thoughts where no one can hear things but me… or, for some reason… well… if Booth's involved… and I'm angry… and if I am angry *because* of Booth… I kind of have developed this habit of cursing. And, so, it was with a string of mental epithets that I stomped up the stairs to the apartment.

It's funny, really ... our family, our friends... they see glimpses of us... separate, together... and from those proverbial snapshots, they think they have a complete and balanced notion of our personalities... what we would or wouldn't do, for example. But, while some of them like Jared and my dad come closer than anyone else... the only person who knows me, and the only person I truly know... is Booth. And, I love him. That is one thing that I know at the very core of my being. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. That fact, nor my acknowledgement of it doesn't mean he is perfect. Neither of us is; nobody is, actually. But, I love him, and I do know how much value to place on him in my life, and I recognize it every time we're together. But, others? Since they don't see us together alone, well, like I said, they can only really guess as to the full and true extent of our personalities... or characterizations. But, for now... as I said, *I* did know both... and I knew he wouldn't be that far behind me… and… and, if he wanted to fight, fine… that was fine by me. But, I was going to take the high ground… and I would *not* be on the defensive this time.

Booth arrived at their apartment approximately 24 minutes later, about five minutes after Brennan. She had miscalculated by only one minute. It had taken him one minute for Booth to recover his surprise from when Brennan had stomped on his instep... hard. It had taken two minutes to reassure Jared and Cam and Sully that he was fine… that they were fine and would see everyone the following week... and two moee minutes at the valet stand waiting for an available cab.

By the time he entered their apartment, almost as casually as if it were the end of any other day, and he was merely coming home from work, she hadn't been there that long to prepare. As soon as he opened the front door, he walked in, shut the door behind him, locked it, deposited his keys and phone on their customary shelf… and turned to find Brennan standing at the end of the hallway, ramrod straight, legs firmly planted slightly apart, hands placed defensively on her hips, and eyes flashing a type of... well, not anger. It wasn't hostility, it was... something passionate. Yeah, definitely passionate. And intense. But, he wasn't quite sure what *it* was aside from being passionate and intense.

He walked in, measured steps, and stopped when about two or three feet separated him. They both glared at each other, each attempting to determine what the other would do, and who would do it first.

Finally, Booth threw down the gauntlet and said, in a very, very measured voice. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "I find your arrogance supremely insufferable, Booth."

"And, I find your… this… I… I don't even know how to describe this thing that you're doing, but… if you ever do that thing with your heel again, we're going to have a very, very big problem, Bones," Booth said.

"You wouldn't let go on my arm," Brennan reminded him. "I did warn you."

Booth smirked as he shook his head. "You know, what, Bones… I've taken a lot of shit from you over the years… a *lot* of shit, but… I am done…. DONE… having you think you can just start slapping, punching, kicking, hitting, or whatever else physical reaction you want to have-"

"You shouldn't have grabbed me. Just because we're married doesn't mean that you get to manhandle me like that, Booth," Brennan said. "All I was doing was dancing with him."

At the mention of naval office with whom she had been dancing, something flashed again in Booth's eyes. "Don't," he said softly. "It's not an order. It's just a suggestion. Don't bring him up again."

"Why?" Brennan said. She could feel it… she was close to pushing Booth… pushing him somewhere that he wasn't sure he wanted to go… and, in her inebriated state, that sounded like it could only be a tactical advantage to her, so, of course, she pressed. "Why shouldn't I bring him up?"

Looking down, Booth shook his head as he said quietly, "Because I am incredibly, insanely, irrationally jealous right now, and bringing him up would *not* be a good idea, Bones." He looked up at her. "You're my wife. I'm your husband, and for once, you're going to let me be your husband. He was touching you. I don't give a shit if it was innocent or not. He was dancing with you, he was touching you, and I wasn't… and I can't stand that… so, yeah, not a good idea to bring him up right now."

Brennan shook her head, and then did the one thing that, consciously or unconsciously, she *did* know would elicit a response from Booth. She acted dismissive. She was flippant.

"You're such a knuckle dragging alpha male, sometimes, Booth. It really is quite… tedious."

Okay, so maybe those weren't the best words to use at that particular time. As a matter a fact, I knew that as soon as I said them, they were a bad idea… because Booth… well, Booth did what he does in situations where he feels his back has been pushed up against a wall that he had not anticipated being trapped against... He pushed back… he pushed back hard… and the actual physical correlation to his metaphorical push found me, in the space of about ten seconds, jerked tightly against his body and then crushed as he pushed us through the hallway and into the family room, only stopping when my back crashed against the far wall.

It wasn't the entry way, technically, so I guess... *this* was *something* different.

However, habit… habit recalling the couple of times where we had found ourselves in this similar situation… habit drove my actions as I threw myself against him and said, "Back off, Booth!"

"No—" he growled, pushing me back against the wall. I crashed into harder this time… and realized, suddenly *what* was different. He was on the offensive… and maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that he hadn't had sex in six months… maybe it was just because it was time… he… suddenly I knew that if I wasn't careful, things were going to get rough… very rough… and for a split second, I didn't know how to respond to that... or if I really minded all that much.

Then, as has often been the case when alcohol and/or sex and/or alcohol, sex, and Booth are involved, the rational part of the brain of Dr. Temperance Brennan took one of its infamously timed coffee breaks. Checking out, the rational part of my brain said 'see ya some time soon after all this is done' … and… that didn't leave me with much to work with in response to an aggressive hostile alpha male, throwing me up against a wall in my own home, when I felt my already increased heart rate… amped up on adrenaline and several hormones… yeah… well… what did he expect me to do? Like I said, I'm a truthful drunk… and so I acted… reacted… truthfully.

At the moment he reslammed me up against the wall, I quickly reviewed my options. Option one: verbal response, most likely to result in inflaming him more. Option two, physical response, also most likely to elicit an exacerbated response from him, particularly given his prior comment about being fed up with my nasty habit of 'letting loose and wailing' on him. Option three, no response, hoping he would give up if he saw I wasn't going to play the game he had in mind. Option four, a combination of options one and two for the most effective strategic benefit. Option three was never really a viable option for me. He grabbed my arm… he followed me here… he still thinks (even if it's just a part of him) that he can boss me around and just simply take control of the situation. Nope. That's not going to go unanswered. So, option three was definitely out… and, as I've always liked to multitask, option four was ultimately the one that I decided to go with… it had a most interesting outcome.

"What..." Brennan said calmly, carefully… controlled. "What is it that you hope to gain by slamming me… twice… up against this wall?"

Booth looked at her, his body still tightly pressed to hers, feeling her warmth and scent wash over him… and said, almost without realizing it, "I-I.. I want to know… I want you to tell me why you've spent the last six months shutting me out after you promised you would tell me."

"And just asking me the question never occurred to you?' Brennan asked. "You just had to do it by shoving me up against a wall?"

Scowling Booth said, "Yes." He then pressed himself more tightly against her, almost crushing her chest. "Now… tell me."

Brennan sighed… as much as she was able… and then said, softly… "I haven't been shutting you out."

"Yes," he accented his response with another force that pushed them against the wall, almost as if he was thrusting into her… despite the fact that they were both still completely clothed and in no way were they in any position to participate in any type of sex act… yet. "Yes, you have," Booth repeated. "We get up in the morning, go to work, spend time with the kids, come home, have dinner, go to sleep… but… every time I've tried to be with you… really be with you… you've shut me down, Bones. Why?"

She frowned, and was quiet for a moment, relaxing as she pondered whatever she was thinking about... and then she stiffened and shot him a look... that was not truthful or given with any other reason behind eliciting some type of response from him.

"Maybe I'm not… did it ever occur to you, Booth, that maybe I just am not attracted to you in that way anymore," Brennan taunted him.

At this back-handed insult to his manhood… at this, Booth merely barked a sharp laugh, refusing to take it seriously. He knew better. He knew *her* better.

"What?" she asked.

Booth looked into her eyes, and again, pressed himself up against her… and again… she saw *that* look in his eyes as he said, "Now, we both know that's a lie, so why even bother wasting the time talking when there are other things we could be doing that we'd both enjoy a lot more?"

I *was* lying… and he knew it. I don't know why I said it. Panic, maybe? I knew I was going to have to tell him what I'd been avoiding for months. Besides, if there was one thing that Booth knew… it was me… it was how to read me… to tell what my mind, what my heart… hell, what my body was saying... sometimes even before *I* knew. And, this time, he knew what was going on in both my mind and in my body in spades.

More importantly, for some reason of which I was unsure, Booth seemed determined to make certain that I knew he wasn't going to let me shut him out as I had, originally unconsciously, begun to do. Now, don't get me wrong. If I legitimately hadn't wanted him to push forward, if I had said 'no'… it would have stopped. Things would have gone no further… we would have had to find some other way to talk about the things that needed to be talked about… but, like I said… I wasn't going to say no to his unspoken suggestion of how to move things beyond the broken stale-mate. Apparently, he was ready and wanted to handle it in this way... and I was coming to realize, slowly, so was I... finally.

Booth once said to me that sexually… that was the most easy way in which he and I had ever been able to communicate… and, he was right. Maybe that's why I shut down on him after the training scenario that day in Hogan's Alley… maybe… maybe I didn't want him to know about my realization of the fact that my fear of being abandoned was no longer my greatest fear… and some how, some part of me knew that if I communicated him sexually, that somehow he would know the most private, most intimate part of who I was… a part of me that I wasn't ready to share with anybody… not even him… I still know if I was or not, but I knew it was time.

And, so… Booth knew I was lying… he was calling me on it… and, well, a response was needed… so I gave him one as a signal that I was finally willing to reopen our… dialogue.

The way in which they were standing, her legs staggered between his, pressed against the wall… so much of them touching each other, but, in some ways, none of them touching at all… it was an advantage Brennan had… and so she decided to press it. Distracting him with her gaze, she surreptitiously angled her foot to hook his leg… and as he was about to open his mouth to say something… press her again, she responded by sweeping his feet out from under him and crashing them to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Obviously, he had been expecting something… but whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't being tossed to the ground, rolled over so that I straddled his legs with my thighs pinioned on either side of his legs, and my hands grabbing his wrists and tightly pressing them against his stomach as I opened my mouth... and didn't kiss him.

"Now," I said, gasping for a breath. "Now… let's talk."

I could feel certain signs of... interest, on his part immediately, as he said, "Talk? Seriously? You want to just... talk... when we're like *this*?"

Okay, he had a valid point. I seem to have temporarily forgotten at some point how good he can look when he wants to... and, as it might be gathered, it had been such a very, very long time since I'd had sex. But, not to be daunted or distracted, I nodded my head.

"Talk first, sex after," I said, my breathing growing a bit ragged.

"My, my, aren't we sure of ourselves," he murmured.

"So, I shouldn't even bother telling you that you were right, and I was lying?"

"Skin flushed, pupils dilated, your breathing's grown jagged, and then, if all that weren't a tip off, it might be that last one... where *you're* the one who's straddling *me*," he said, merely stating it as a fact. "So, yeah, I think it's safe to say that we both know that you do want me."

"I believe you once said me wanting you or you wanting me has never been the issue, Booth," I said. "But… I… what you did that day… it was... I don't even know how to describe it anymore. We already used the words too many times to count. I *don't* want to describe it anymore. I want to be over and done, and I think you do, too-"

"You have no idea how much," he said. Looking at me, Booth then added, "But you need to understand why I did what I did. He immediately started to launch into a passionate defensive that I had already heard several times.

Shaking my head, I lifted my ass just a bit in the air and then slammed down on his thighs to get his attention. "I don't want… to hear that again, Booth. I know why you did what you did. You told me. You explained. I listened. I understand. I've accepted the fact that you did what you thought your duty required you to do… as an employee of the FBI… as an agent… as my partner. I've accepted it and forgiven you."

"But?"

I paused drawing a breath in again before I continued. "But, the issue we have here is that I need you to understand that I wasn't hurt most because I was your partner. I was hurt by what you did because of the fact of what what you did to me hurt as much as it did because I'm a woman who is your wife… the mother of your child… the woman who you like to have sex with… it was personal for me. Do understand the difference?"

He was quiet for a moment before he said, "Don't you think that's taking the compartmentalization thing just a big too far?"

"After the past six months, seriously, can you really ask me that question?"

"Yes," he insisted.

Looking down at him, I frowned then. My ability to compartmentalize had been one of the things that had been blown to pieces with Chrissy's birth, and only after I came to the realization of *why* that had occurred that day at Quantico in the Alley, had I been able to start to put things back together and regain it in small amounts. Not that he knew any of this... not really. So, I frowned, and shook my head, and answered his question.

"No, it's not."

I sighed and then yanked his hands again. I was frustrated… and I didn't know how to make him understand. But, I had to try.

"You want to know what I have to tell you that I kept from you that day... the thing I told you I would share when I was ready... the very same thing that had me have a mini nervous-breakdown in the Alley that day because of how you structured my tactical scenario?" I panted.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Fine," I said. "Here it is... you know that little major insecurity I have because of the fact that I have a profound sense of fear about people who loved me leaving me because my parents abandoned me as a child? Well, guess what, Booth... the good news is that, apparently, that insecurity isn't not my greatest fear any more. The bad news is, apparently, that it's been replaced by the fear that I will one day to do our daughter what was done to me, and I came to that realization, courtesy of your goddamn tac scenario, on the day in the Alley. *Completely* fucking blindsided me," I muttered.

Booth stared at me, something coming into his eyes, as he said, "Bones-"

"Wait," I interrupted. "I'm not done yet." I paused, shook my head, and then said fiercely, "I've spent the last six months making my peace with that realization... and I couldn't be with you... let you in all the way until I was ready because if we had sex, I knew you would start to get an idea of what was happening with me before I was ready to have you do that... and so, I pulled away."

He looked up at me, and stared, but remained quiet.

I decided to be on the safe side and go with the blatant approach as I said, "Obviously, as I'm telling you this now, I no longer need to keep you at arm's length sexually... but, before I am willing to resume that aspect of our relationship, Booth... there is still the matter of you showing me that you understand the difference as to *why* I was hurting like I was over the tac scenario. Now, I'm not saying you have to agree with it, it's just really important to me that you understand, okay? You *have* to understand, because this is it. After this, I've given you everything I have, everything I am. There's nothing else for me to hold back from you, to hide from you. It's full disclosure. Do you... do you understand?"

He stared again, and confusion and a smattering of indignation colored his face. He was about to say something, but I interrupted. All I wanted to hear was his acknowledgement that he understood what I was saying. And, if he was being, in any way, shape, or form, indignant... he wasn't really understanding. I had to get him to understand somehow, to make him understand.

"Okay," I nodded. "Let's try this. I bet you didn't know the first time I was ever angry at you because you had done something that hurt me personally was when you grabbed my arm when we were talking to Gemma Arrington's mother?"

"You slapped me! And, then you called me a bully," Booth said.

"Yeah, well as I recall you deserved it," I mused, almost veering a bit off track.

"You said I was a stupid man who you hated," he countered.

"I did, at the time," I admitted. "Do you know why that's the first time I got angry at you for something stupid you had done… not earlier, mind you, when we got drunk and you fired me… or when you pulled that bullshit at the airport a year later? All of that was work. None of that was as bad as when you insulted me… personally. And... when it's personal... you... it's just worse, okay?"

Booth shook his head. "I don't—"

"The second time," I continued, willing him to be silent… "The second time you did hurt me because of something personal was that was the night I gained my primer to the crash course of Seeley Booth's Latest and Greatest Hits of the Long-Haired, Long-Legged, Carbon-Copy Blonde Bimbos… a topic I consider myself an expert in now, by the way. That night… the first night I had ever decided to seek you out… to make a peace offering by bringing you the information about the case… on your turf, because I knew you liked that type of thing even then... when you have the advantage with me coming to you... what do I get for my troubles? I get to see you with the look I now know only graces your face after you've just gotten laid… prancing around in one of your half-buttoned white dress shirts… and, don't get me wrong, I appreciated the view… but it was a viewing that was ruined when first when you asked me if I had an appointment… like I was making some goddamn social call… and then Tessa came prancing out in one of your shirts, barely covering that ugly, ugly black bra of hers," my voice trailed off as I recalled that night.

Anger coursed through me as I thought back, and I couldn't help it as I released when I was holding his wrists, fisted my hands in his tuxedo jacket, and gave two sharp jabs in anger. "One of *your* shirts!" I grunted.

"Hey!" Booth muttered in protest.

He looked at me then, and then saw something burning in *my* eyes. I was jealous, and he knew it, and I think it turned him on. It... I hadn't felt this way in a long time. Not since I had to witness a certain blonde television reporter sticking her tongue down his throat, which resulted in me physically tossing her out of his apartment. I had suddenly gone from making gripping emotional confessions to getting jealous over a woman he hadn't seen in years. Yes, the intensity of the jealousy had certainly caught his attention, but I was too far gone to notice it. Instead, I was shaking my head, I tried to clear the anger out as I rambled on.

"And, okay… that wasn't the best of nights… but, you… I let it go. I figured… you were right. I hadn't called ahead, I just showed up, and I had overstepped by bounds, so what could I really expect beside the treatment I got?"

"If you'd showed up ten minutes earlier, I wouldn't have bothered answering the door, you know," he muttered.

The he looked up at me. Booth looked up at me, and I knew it. He was baiting me. He was goading me. It was a taunt. He was taunting me… again. And, at that moment, he knew I knew what he was doing, and he looked away to suppress a grin that was coming onto his face. Mother fucker.

"Asshole," I said. "You are such an asshole."

"You said that already," Booth pointed out genially.

"You know, in a way, you were right... I had overstepped things personally between us that night... but, I still wanted to make amends, because *that's* what you do, Booth... and that led to the third time you pissed me off by doing something stupid… when you were *such* a dick in Wong Foo's… We were walking in and you pulled that bullshit by claiming the bar as some type of sovereign entity ruled by King Seeley J. Booth. And… I gave you the access card to the Jeffersonian… my peace offering… off the clock, bringing it to you on your turf. Again, it was my way of saying I was sorry for what happened between us earlier at your place with Tessa. It was the first time I had *EVER* authorized an access card for someone who didn't work at the lab, but you had asked for it, and so I thought it was a good way to make my personal apologies… and what did you say… you asked me 'what part of 'this is mine' didn't I understand?' Asking me if you needed to say it in Latin... God, Booth… you were such a dick. And that was personal then… do you see what I mean?"

He sighed, "I'm trying, Bones… but…no… I don't—"

"How can you still not get this?" I asked in disbelief.

"I… I think I'm starting to… but I get the feeling you have more entries of 'Bones' Top Pick Hits of When Booth was a Dick and Didn't Make It Right' list… and, even though I've got a list of my own of when Brennan's been quite the bitch over the years, we'll let that go for now. I mean, you've spent years cracking on me from everything from Santa Claus to my religion. But, I have to admit, maybe I'm feeling a bit masochistic tonight, but I'd kinda like to hear the rest of yours instead of sharing mine," he said half-truthfully, half-amused.

There it was again. He was baiting, taunting, playing. How could he be enjoying this when I was trying to be serious. Fuck.

"Okay," I said with a nod. "Fine. If you really want to know... the, how about the first time we ever talked about Parker? It was that day in the SUV when he was what... four? Five? Rebecca was giving you grief about the custody arrangements, and I knew you were having a bad day, so I tried to be nice when Rebecca was being such a bitch to you. I was trying to empathize with you… for you… and what did you say? In true dick form… you shut me down and told me I would only be in the same lofty position of equality as the saintly Seeley Booth and could talk to you about it when *I* finally had a kid."

"Hmmm, I did say that, didn't I?" Booth paused, looking up at me again as he grinned and didn't bother to hide it. "You want to talk about it now or continue this trip memory lane?"

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed. He was too late now… I was on a roll… and I wasn't going to stop before I was finished. He *had* asked after all. "We're still going... I have more examples to point out. For example, then there was the time I applied for the FBI gun permit, and you were such an arrogant asshole... making me say your name and then putting that rejected stamp on it... so smug," I smacked my lips, shaking my head. "You did that… made me go through that *entire* experience because you were getting off on humiliating me."

"No, I—"

"Then," I continued, really amping up the tirade, although this is so not where I had *ever* anticipated this conversation going. Nope not, in a million years. "Then… my true favorites came in fairly short order. I came back from vacation in North Carolina… and that time we went to the crime scene, and it was the train derailment with the Warren Lynch case... and you delighted in letting Cam flirt with you... touching you in the lab. Smirking when she said you always looked good out of a suit," I paused.

Hannah aside, we had never really talked about his prior relationships nor mine. But, Cam... well, Cam has always been a bit of a sore spot for me… one that I don't think even he knew as to exactly *how* sensitive it was until just that particular moment... and because I'm sure I didn't even know it until it just kind of popped out. As I said, at the time, I was too far into my rant to realize this as I continued on….

"You know… for being my partner for a *YEAR*… after everything that had just happened with my mother… you could have picked up the fucking phone and called me to let me know what was going on with Cam getting the job as the department head… but, no… you didn't… and I've always thought that maybe, again, it was because you got off on seeing me humiliated. You were such a pig to do that… and, then, that mess with Rebecca... okay, that one I can kind of understand… you were nostalgic and horny and wanted to get laid… and, fuck… I was so pissed that day when she answered your cell phone… and I was *legitimately* calling about work… that case with Lawrence Seaver... the bigamist who got those women pregnant? I think it was just adding injury to insult when I found out from *Angela* that even after the mess with Rebecca ended that then you *STILL* chose Cam, Booth," I had dropped my hands to my sides and lessened my pressure on his legs as I got caught up in my rant.

I didn't realize it as he watched me, saying nothing, although a part of me knew he desperately wanted to… but I just kept tearing forward as I said, "…I mean, my God, Booth... I was practically telegraphing a personal invitation with your name on it when I told you Rebecca wasn't your only option for satisfying your biological urges. And, what did you do... you went to Cam's office... and started FUCKING Cam. My boss. Cam! When *I* was making the offer…."

I looked down at him, and realized a split second too late what he was doing as he rolled us over so that he was on top, leaning over me. "Okay, now, look—" he began, the tone in his voice having changed the longer I had gone on and he realized, on some level, that I was no longer playing, but being serious. "I didn't know that you felt this… strongly… about some of these things… that Cam... and the rest of it. But, all that l happened a *long* time ago, Bones, and you have to admit that this is some really random shit."

Hmmm… he was trying to be rational with me. Interesting.

"Maybe," I conceded. "Maybe this was a long time ago… but you did say you wanted to hear the rest, Booth." I paused before I shook my head again and said, "You were such an idiot… because, after all of that. After all of *that*, the biggest thing I think I still never understood is that you chose an even more independent, pain in the ass, bigger bitch of a woman than either Rebecca or Tessa or Cam to fall in love with and marry. A woman who's... after being with you, having a child with you, after making this new family... after being your wife... after loving you... still hurts you. Isn't as good as you deserve. I don't know... but, maybe... maybe it wasn't your brightest idea to have chosen me if you aren't afraid things from the past are going to come back to bite you in the ass every now and again. I remember everything. I don't mean to keep track, keep count, but I can't help it. So. maybe you *should* have chosen someone like Cam."

"I *don't* want, Cam," he said forcefully. "She and I... what we had... it was never what you and I had... do you understand that? It never could be. It was fun... great sex... but... it was never, ever... Jesus, Bones, it could never compare to what I have with you."

"But, you still chose her," I said. "So, at some point, you did want her-"

"Fuck, Bones, that was seven years ago... I was a lot younger... and a lot more stupid than I am now," Booth said.

"Then, why her?" I couldn't help but ask. I was curious. I wanted to know. I *needed* to know. "Why her... and not me?"

"Because... it was easier. And... honestly, she pursued me... and you didn't," Booth said finally. "You... that first year., we did this dance... and you insinuated... you teased... you intimated... but you never came right out and told me 'Booth, I want you.' Fuck... you didn't even do that until..."

Hmmm, this was new. Somewhat unexpectedly, this conversation had now firmly veered off to somewhere we hadn't been before in *all* our conversations over the years.

"What?" I pressed as his voice trailed off.

Staring at him, he said, "Andi... that... that was the first time... you know, as badly as I hurt you that day in the Alley, you hurt me so fucking much with that little stunt - and, I know... I *know* we've dealt with it and made our peace on that, and it's a part of the past, and so that's not why I'm bringing it up now, but-"

"Then why are you?" I asked, a bit flushed to remember the instance that I had hurt Booth as badly as he had hurt me. But, that's what happens sometimes when you love someone... hurt. It just comes with the territory.

"Because," Booth responded. "That was - Andi... when you showed up that day in Marja, even if I didn't know it then, that was also the first time since that day in the opera house on the Gemma Arrington case... you wanted me then... you told me. It was crystal clear... and, as Andi... in Afghanistan... you wanted me... and let me know it. There was no confusion, no prevaricating, no stumbling, or stalling. You wanted me, you told me, and that gave me the signal to know that you wanted me to come get you. And, so... I did."

"So, you're saying... the only reason you were with Cam was because... she pursued you... aggressively... and I didn't?" I asked, amazed... and intrigued that I could have been so off about one of Booth's most basic character personality traits.

"Yes," he nodded. "I... I'm not the type to go where I've already been rejected once unless I get a clear, *very* clear and well-defined signal, Bones."

"You're talking about the night in the rain," I murmured. "The night I left you."

"Yes," he said again.

"And, yet... you still fell in love with me... after all that, how could you do that, Booth?"

"Because... you're you," he said simply... "And that's the main difference, by the way, in case that incredible brain of yours is still obsessing about the point. Rebecca... Tessa... Cam... none of them ever worked, because they weren't you. I never loved them like I love you," he said. I looked up at him. He had that look in his eyes. The wounded puppy dog look. Damn. "Because I love *you*... still love you... will die loving you... that's why," he clarified. Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

"You know… the longer we've been together, the more I get hurt, and the more I think that each time it happens, that it can't possible get worse," I began. "I… I felt like I was completely destroyed when you didn't tell me that you weren't dead after the Checkerbox incident. I got over that, but time went on, and, then… well, I guess I can't count your whole hang-up with blondes as a single principled infraction that hurt me, so I guess I'll just have to concede the specific example of your almost monumental fuck up with Hannah… but, now, now there's this thing with the FBI test, Booth… and… do you understand now why it's been so difficult for me to make my peace with things? Especially... *especially*, when yes, you've said you're sorry, but... I don't know... something's just still missing here?" I said.

He was quiet for a moment. And, then, he said the only thing he could… the only thing I wanted to hear… the only thing he *knew* he could say to make things better…. "Yes."

He finally got it. How? I don't know how? But, he did get it. He did.

God, I love that man.

Booth saw it… he saw it in her eyes, the moment he said it. He had said the right thing… and… just like that… the green light was given, the signal he had been waiting for... he was almost positive, the switch had been flipped and the game was back on… and, for once, he did as he was told to do without protest... only slightly distracted because he now knew he needed to make amends, but he wasn't quite certain how...

You might think that each time you have sexual intercourse with someone that you can anticipate what the experience will be like. You think that you can figure out, based on what's happened between the same man and the same woman before, a fairly accurate assessment of the next sexual experience can be extrapolated. If you think that, then let me be the first one to tell you… you're wrong.

Seeley Booth is a man that I've known for over nine years. We've been partners for eight years. We've been lovers for almost two and a half years. We've been parents for a year and a half. And we've been married for eight months. We have had sex in a multitude of positions, locations, and conditions. We've made love at almost every time of the day (or night). We've fucked on several memorable occasions. Sometimes it's been regrettably fast, sometimes it's been tortuously slow. Sometimes it's been about attaining a physical release, sometimes it's been about building or reinforcing our emotional connection. It has always been very, very good... always *extremely* satisfying. But, what next transpired between us… it's something we'd never shared before… and I think… I think the main difference came because, stubborn individual that I am… I was insistent… and we both knew we had to make it right between us... and that made all the difference.

The experience didn't begin much as it usually did… and perhaps that should have been a hint to me of what was about to ensue, but as we all know by now, I don't do well in picking up on those type of things. He stood… cracking his back in the process… and making me look up at him from the floor with concern. Extending his hand, Booth helped me up to reassure me that yes, he was fine. And, then… both of us stood facing the other… and neither one of us was quite certain what to do. He was hesitant… and Booth's hesitation made me hesitate.

"Do you want to—" he at last asked, still holding my hand, but yes, there it was... the uncertainty. He looked up to me with that look again… half-pitiable… half-hopeful…. I was quiet for a moment… and then I knew what I wanted… I just wasn't certain if he would finally give it to me.

"I want—" I began. "I do want you… I do—"

"But?"

"But, we still need to..."

"It has to be even between us?" he asked. "I- 'nothing left' is what you said, isn't it? You've given me everything? All of it?"

I nodded.

"I understand that now, Bones... I just... how? I'm not sure what I can do-"

I looked up at him, and he saw the look, and he knew I had a suggestion.

"Tell me," he said.

"I want you," I said, again, referencing my prior statement. "But… not… not… I want..." I struggled for the words. He looked up at me, afraid he was in the process of being rebuffed.

"Tell me," he pleaded.

And, that tone helped. I looked at him and nodded, "I want you," I began again. "But… not like... it can't be like it was before, Booth... This... what I've given you... what I've shared with you... not just before tonight... but especially tonight... you... I want you… I want *all* of you... more... I want more than what was *before*… I... that's what I want... if we want to do things differently this time, then that's how to do it. That's what you've got to put on the table to match what I've given you. It's the only thing that you've ever kept back from me. We both know that... and, that's what I want."

It was the best I could do to verbalize my thoughts, my feelings, my wants, my desires. At first, I wasn't certain that he understood. And, as he continued to hold my hand, trace small circles on my wrist with his thumb, he spoke quietly… very softly, as he looked away.

"I… if we did that... I-I... it's not something... like you said, it's something that we've never done that before, hell, *I've* never even done it before..."

He did understand.

And, he knew I understood… I *did* understand what I was asking of him. It wasn't just sex I wanted… not love making… intercourse… or a good fuck. I *wanted* him. All of him. That little part that he was always... *had* always held back from me. Even if he didn't realize it at the time, the extent to how much I had shared with him that was the pure *essence* of me by letting him back in after he had hurt me so badly… I needed to have it reciprocated in kind. He was starting to get an inkling of that now... and, so, I knew he knew what I was asking. I just wasn't certain if he was willing… or even *able* to give me that for which I had asked. Yes, he had once started to make progress in that direction when he had forgiven me for the whole Andi debacle... forgiving something like that was so alien in his nature... but... the baby... well, Chrissy kinda forced him into doing it whether he wanted to or not... and so... we had never really touched on the issue again... not until now. I've never wanted to press it... but, now... now after I had given him all of me... held nothing back... trusted him enough to do that... I... from him... I needed the same thing... and whatever it was that was keeping him just slightly from totally and completely trusting me enough to share all that he was with me... well, I needed it... I knew what I needed for us to get past this... this roadblock in our relationship... I just wasn't sure, like I said, if he could or would be able to give it to me.

"I want you," I repeated, more firmly this time. "And I need this… no, *we* need this."

This time, my tone managed to get him to look up at me.

"You do understand?" I confirmed.

He nodded. "I do."

"And?"

"And… I want to give you what *you* want… what *we* need… but I'm not sure if I can…." He struggled with the decision. "I've never done that before, Bones... no one... no one before, do you know that? I... I've never even tried," he said softly.

"But you will... you want to...?" I asked.

He nodded slowly. "For you... I-I… I'll try. I swear to God, I'll try, Bones. But, I… I just don't know if I can… I'm not certain that I know how," He looked up at me, an intense honesty burning in his eyes, and I nodded.

"Just try then."

That's all he had ever asked of me… and all I could ever want from him.

He looked at me then… a look, just a look. From him, a look could mean so much more than from anyone else. After all, it had been a look that had finally made me realize how much I cared about him the morning I got on a plane that was supposed to send me well on my way to the Maluku Islands… and, well… we all know how that turned out. But, the look he gave me then… it was part desperation… I know… I *know* how much he wanted to be able to do this… and fear, too, was there… and… then, finally… then I saw it, just behind the desperation and fear… the need… the desire… the lust.

I stepped toward him then… and pushed myself closer… and breathed… just breathed… and waited. He had to do this… he had to come to me… I gave him the signal... he knew he was wanted... but, *he*had to be the aggressor in this... and then… he did. One small step towards me… and then… then things started to happen quickly… fast, so fast.

Booth pulled me to him in an embrace… a hug, really… a reassuring strong squeeze as he inhaled the scent of my hair and ran his cheek down my neck and across my shoulder blade… and then… then, he moved. I had forgotten at times how quickly he could move when he wanted to… but, he moved quickly… hands coming up, groping, pawing at my dress. He backed me up against the wall, but this time it was more to be used as a tool to support me as he considered how to proceed. He looked at me with this hungry, almost feral look in his eye… and decision made… hands coming up to the dress, he pulled at the spaghetti straps, pulled at them so hard that the delicate stitching attaching themselves to the dress ripped in rapid secession. Unfortunately, the straps were more for design than utility, and they did little to free my body of the dress. His brow furrowed in frustration as he spun me around, and pressing kisses to my back, working at the dress's zipper, God... the things Booth can do when he sets his mind to it. Faster… and faster, his hands worked… and soon the dress was gone, puddled around my feet. I reached up and helped him shrug out of the jacket… at some point both of us kicked off our shoes and his black dress socks and tux's bow tie followed.

Frantic, he alternated between kissing me and hastily trying to do whatever he had to do to reach more of my skin. Clothing, there was too much clothing in his way as he removed piece after piece… more… more, he wanted more… and almost howled in frustration as we stumbled along the hallway towards our bedroom because he didn't have enough... not enough, not enough quickly enough. More pulling, more ripping left my slip a ruined piece of satin at the foot of our bed… and the panty hose I was wearing… well, suffice to say, they weren't salvageable after Booth was done with them. He attacked my bra and panties ruthlessly… more pulling, more tearing, more ripping… with each new piece of skin revealed… his aggressiveness increased.

Falling onto the bed, I pulled him to me. And, and we started to move. Lips on skin… kissing… touching… tasting… teasing. At some point, we rolled over so that I was again on top… and looking down at his naked form – when did he take off the last of his clothes? – I felt a heightened sense of anticipation coursing throughout me like a strong, throbbing pulse of energy with its own pattern, own way of beating in time. Looking down at him, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes appreciative of his masculine form, hands eager for more… I looked at his eyes, and saw it… and knew. He was trying… Booth was trying so hard… so hard for me… but, still, I saw it. He hadn't been able to give me what I had asked for… not yet... and I began to fear that maybe he wasn't able to?

Leaning down, my hair fell in a cascade across his shoulder… at some point my orchid had been lost throughout the course of the evening, and I wasn't sure when… I brought my lips to his ear, stopping just short of actually touching him, and I whispered, hoping that maybe some verbal reassurances might help him, "You won't hurt me."

"I will—" came his grunt… the first intelligible words he said in some time.

And, then... I finally found it, finally recognized it for what it was... somewhat ironic, isn't it? I found it, finally saw it as it actually was since he no longer made the effort to cloak and hide it from me... and he told me by accident. There it was. Ahh, there it was... his fear... his greatest fear. I had suspected it for some time, but now I knew... and there is was. And so what was it, this, his greatest fear? It's really quite simple. If the core essence of my fear is abandonment, his is anger. The anger inside of him, unchecked, uncontrolled... it was the core of his being. If fear of avoiding abandonment - in its multiple forms now - drove me in everything I did, fear of inflicting violence had driven him. I don't know how I knew, but I did. His greatest fear? I saw it then... he was afraid that if he let himself go, unchecked... he feared he would be so violent that he would hurt the people he loved... like his father had done to his mother and his children.

So, that was why, I realized at that moment, why he always, *always* kept a small piece of himself held back... in control... out of touch... unreachable... the ugliest and darkest part of him (by his own assessment). Booth kept that hidden away, always separate, always a part... and now, now... someway I had to make him not only understand that very thing which he worked so long to keep hidden, locked away, far from me and the ones he loved... I needed it... more over, I wanted it... and he had to give it to me... willingly. I shuddered at that thought... at the realization of exactly what I had asked of him... and the love I felt for him then even as I knew he was just *trying* to give it to me... my love for him, I had not thought possible, but it grew... it grew tenfold.

I felt the warmth spreading throughout me grow, continuing to tingle as I spoke again. That love... he had to trust me... trust it. I know he already did, he just had to admit it. He'd loved me, trusted me long before I ever was even *able* to reciprocate. He's... he's a better man than I deserve, a better person than I am. I just... he has to trust it.

I opened my eyes wide, and grabbed his head. I pulled it so that he was staring directly into my eyes.

"Do you see this?" I asked.

I didn't have to ask twice. He knew of what I spoke.

"Yes."

"Do you trust it?"

"Yes... God, yes."

"If you trust it, my love for you... our love... then that means you have to trust me... trust us... trust yourself, Booth," I pleaded.

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can," I said. "We can."

I raised my head to whisper softly. "You won't hurt me. I swear to you. You won't."

"You can't know that... I... completely out of control... you can't know that... it's dark and violent and ugly... and you can't know what I'll do if it's there, Bones."

"Do you love me?"

"With everything I am," he answered softly.

"Then prove it," I whispered. "Trust me... trust yourself. You won't, hurt me," I repeated. "Not now… not like this… *never*... you couldn't. You *can't*."

"I will—I know I will," he said hoarsely.

Lips coming to his earlobe, I nuzzled, licked, kissed, teased. "You're wrong," I breathed. "Trust me. Love me... trust us."

He looked at me then, so *much* shining in his brown eyes… and I know he wanted to do what I had asked so badly… and then… he did something he had never done in any of the times we had ever been together… he closed his eyes.

For a moment, I thought Booth was praying… at times, he's had a habit of reciting long lists of saints names to distract himself… but… after a few seconds, I saw… no, I *felt* that whatever Booth was finally doing… it wasn't praying.

The change was instantaneous. Quickly, so quickly… he flipped us over. And… and I'm not sure how to describe what came next. The sensations were… intense, to say the least.

Push, push, hard… harder… more, more, MORE.

Thrust, once, twice, three times... God, he was stretching me... I cried out involuntarily at his efforts. It wasn't painful, exactly. The sensation is hard to describe. I wasn't in pain, and I think he knew that, so he didn't stop. Then again, at that point... I don't think... no, I *know* he couldn't have stopped at that point... even if he or I had wanted him to.

Again... he was thrusting into me... and it was hard... so hard, so fast.

Lick, kiss, tease… sweat… oh, how did we both get so sweaty? Beads of sweat were collecting along his brow… and movement… oh, how we moved.

I cried out, at some point… not from release… but from pure want. We were both close to achieving an orgasm… that part was nothing new for us. But, just beyond that… I knew… if I could just hold on a little bit more… it was almost there… I could almost reach it. We were almost there. I could almost reach it, and he was almost able to give it to me.

"More," I moaned to him. "I need more, Booth."

He quickened his strokes, pumping into me so fast… God… how could I have really forgotten he could move that fast? I groaned again… and I knew he was still fighting… me? Himself? Just the last little bit, the last little hold on the edge before he let go completely... I don't know. But, never one to stay on the side lines for long, I rolled us over and proceeded to see if I could last long enough to get what I wanted, what we needed, from him.

Falling into the mattress… his hands had shifted to his sides. He let me control the pace… but he was still fighting it… me… himself. I didn't like the idea that I might have to fight dirty… but drastic times can call for drastic measures.

I slowed our pace… he had been going so hard, so fast… so I slowed… and reached between us to see if I could tempt him into doing what he had promised so desperately he would try to do.

A caress, a squeeze… up, down… up, down… up, down…. up, down… no. Not yet. He wasn't there yet. Almost. But, not quite.

His eyes were still closed… that was a good thing. I don't think I would have seen his irises anyway if they had been open… he has a habit of his eyes rolling back into his head just as he is about to cum… and… still… I knew the last of the fight was almost gone when he started to moan my name.

Now, me? I've always been a vocal lover. I… I am particularly… 'mouthy'… as Booth put it… when I am so close to climaxing, but when I am being impeded from achieving release… like any normal human being, I try to do something about it... and I like said, Booth says that when I get 'mouthy'. It hasn't happened a lot, but on occasion... more often in our relationship than any of my others, but definitely on occasion… on occasion, Booth has been in a position that I define as him having tortured me. It is a sweet, enjoyable, wonderful torture… but it is a bittersweet type of cruel torture, nonetheless. The first time I ever experienced it was the first night he made love to me. I was three months pregnant with the baby… hormones all out of balance… and my rational brain had left me that night, too, when I saw Hannah in Booth's apartment with her tongue stuck down his throat. He had made me confess that night… I wanted him… I needed him… I wanted to need him… and, it had been so hard for me to do, but I didn't really have much of a choice… and, it seemed, as if what's karmically went around the universe had finally come around… it was now Booth's turn. And, the more he began to talk, the closer I knew I had to being exactly where I wanted him. Where we both needed him to be.

"Bones—" it began.

"Did you say something, Booth?" I asked.

He shifted in the bed a little bit… a slight contortion.

"I—yes…." he responded. "I—"

"Yes, Booth?" I whispered again.

"I… Bones… I need… I-I…"

"What, Booth?"

"Bones… oh, damn… please," he moaned. "Please…."

A twist, another thrust… up and down, up and down. A kiss, a lick, another squeeze.

"Fuck—" he groaned, his head twisting to the side. His eyes were still closed.

"Booth—" I tempted. "What do you want?"

"I-I…" he struggled with the words.

"Yes, Booth?"

"Ohh… fuck… ah, I… Bo—nnnnees. Oh, God…."

"Tell me what you want, Booth," I murmured. "Whatever you want… tell me… and you can have it."

"You—" he grunted. "You… oh, God… you, I want you… you—"

"You already have me…." I moaned. Oh… what was he doing now? That… that was distracting, to say the least. "Tell me," I pleaded again.

Again, I tried to tempt him. More kisses, more touches, more clenching, pulling him in harder, drawing him in deeper.

"Oh, FUCK," he moaned. "I-"

"TELL. ME." I demanded.

"I-…. oh… I…need you… God… oh, fuck… I need you," he rasped. "Please… I need you, Bones… oh… fuck."

"And you trust me?"

"Yes... God... yeeesssss."

"Tell me again," I murmured.

"I need you," he pleaded. "Oh, for Christ's sake… I need you, Bones… you… it's always been you… the only one… just you… just for you….and you've got me... all of me... I swear... forever and always... just you... Ohhh-"

And his eyes closed clinched… and I felt his release before I felt mine… it was hard, fast, brutal… like most of the evening's events… but, I didn't really care… because I already gotten what I wanted. He didn't think he would be able to give it to me. But, as I predicted… he was wrong, and I was right… because he had… he did.

Booth felt the aftershocks of their lovemaking fall away, and he pulled her to him… held her tight in the crook of his arm. They were sweaty, and flushed, and were just concentrating on breathing.

At last, he looked over and smiled.

Brennan's languid gaze, heavy with sexual satisfaction, stared back at him.

"I was wrong," Booth breathed.

Nodding, Brennan said, "I know."

"I'm so glad I was wrong," Booth said.

"So am I," she whispered.

"Just this once, Bones… just this once," he whispered.

Looking up at him, Brennan smiled as she watched him drift of to sleep.

Like any typical alpha male… after just about any instance where Booth has gotten laid, he has a tendency to drift off. This particular bout of sex had drained him more than it had me… but in a good way, not a bad way… and he was almost asleep when I dared to slip free from his grasp. I decided a shower was definitely an admirable goal to attempt to obtain for me at that particular instance. However, Booth immediately jerked back to consciousness at my actions and pulled me tighter against him.

"No," he said simply.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll be right back. I just want to go clean up."

"No," he repeated again, pulling me tighter.

"Booth—"

He sighed. "Not yet... just.. a little more? Not yet… but soon, okay—" he offered.

My brow furrowed, but I leaned in and settled against his warmth.

"You okay?" this time it was my turn to ask him.

"Mmmm," he murmured. "Will be."

Without opening his eyes, he then said, "Are we okay?"

He had often asked me this question, and I had given him a variety of answers, depending on the time and situation. But, this time… this time I knew as I burrowed into his warm embrace, that I was speaking the absolute 100% indisputable truth when I responded.

"Yeah," I breathed.

He smiled, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. "Good," he murmured.

And he was right… it was… and so were we.

-DELETE-

~The End~

A/N: I'm not sure how this piece turned out, but there it is. Stayed tuned for the further adventures of Booth and Brennan as the events of their past return to haunt their family in the first chapter of "More From Brennan's Nonexistent Journal"… coming soon to a fan fiction site near you.