I'm working my way through the second season of Bones, and I keep getting struck by my muse to write these little short one-shots. This takes place immediately after The Man in the Mansion. Now, I haven't seen any episodes past that point, so please don't tell me what happens with Sully or whatnot in any of the reviews. I'm a newbie to the fandom, so forgive me for any Bones mistakes.
Booth watched her walk out the office, her hips swaying just a little too seductively. Her cheeks were just a little too bright. Her smile just a little too wide. He unconsciously reached down and tugged his shirt over his belt buckle.
Brennan had slept with Sully.
He couldn't bring himself to call her Bones in his mind. Not in that context. Bones was his name for her; Bones was his alone. No, Sully hadn't slept with Bones, he had slept with Brennan.
The mild platitudes didn't make it hurt any less.
Booth stood and paced across his partner's office, glad she wasn't there to see him so unhinged. He had all but declared his feelings about Bones when Sully had asked! He could hardly remember feeling so vulnerable. The scrutiny of an FBI agent, especially one who knew him well, should have clued Sully in to the way that he felt.
His Bones. Not Sully's.
Booth strode across the office and out into the lab. His back stiffened as he caught sight of Sully. The man was heading across the lab.
Keeping his eyes trained on the man, Booth followed, dodging equipment and squints by sheer instinct. Where was Sully going…?
His heart crashed into his ribcage and ground to a halt when he caught sight of Brennan pulling Sully toward her for a kiss. Their lips moved achingly slowly against each other's, a lover's kiss.
Booth paused, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he gripped the railing. Sully slid his fingers in Brennan's hair, the silken locks falling easily around his questing fingertips. She ran her fingers down his back, lazily tracing the sinewy muscle.
The light touch on Booth's back nearly sent him skyrocketing.
"Angela!" He exhaled as he spun. "You… uh… startled me."
She gave him a quick grin that didn't quite meet her eyes. "You? The big, bad FBI agent?"
"Don't tell anyone, okay?" His words were teasing, but his voice fell flat as his gaze zeroed back on his partner. Moodily, he wrenched his eyes away from the scene. "Did you need something, Angela? I'm kind of busy."
"Doing what? Practicing your voyeurism?"
If Brennan had been there, she might have noticed the way his muscles bunched under his suit jacket… or the way he dug his nails into the iron railing…that the soft exhalation was a sigh, not a breath.
"Leave me alone, Angela," Booth said softly. He turned on his heel and walked back to Bones' office, his head bowed. When he heard her soft footsteps behind him, he paused, his voice nearly cracking. "Please."
Once back into the familiar, amber light of Bones' inner sanctum, his heart relaxed. The room was so… Bones. His Bones. He approached her desk, running his fingers over the well worn, well loved wood. A new object there caught his eye, and he reached up to pick up the picture frame.
There he was, smiling down at Bones, his arm slung around her shoulder. She was laughing, resting her forehead against his chest as she giggled at a joke he had long forgotten. He studied the picture for a long time, trying to place the moment. They were at the diner, and he assumed Angela had snapped the photo. Almost unconsciously, he remembered the weight of her forehead against his chest, her body flush against his. They looked intimate, he thought wryly. They looked like so much more than partners.
So much for the saying. It ought to have been "a picture is worth a thousand lies."
He put the picture down, loosening his tie around his neck as he moved over to the couch. He closed his eyes, willing the images of Brennan pushed against Sully to leave him.
When Brennan discovered him a few minutes later, she looked concerned.
"Booth? You okay?" She pressed her cool hands against his hot forehead and flushed cheeks. "Are you getting sick?"
Torn between the pleasure pain of her fingers against his face, and the horrible images still wrenching his stomach, he forced his eyes open.
His hurt gaze met her concerned one, but even as he sat up, he hid the pain behind a carefully constructed mask. "I'm fine, Bones. Just a little sleepy. Let's go catch those bad guys, okay?"
Without another word, he strode out of the office, his heart aching heavily in his chest as he waited for his beautiful, brilliant, and all too desirable partner to follow suit.
He'd walk right beside her, keeping her safe, keeping her loved. He'd be all the family she could ever need; he would be her best friend. He'd cherish her and let her hug him when she was scared. He would love her; she would never need to worry about that.
He'd keep holding on, until the heartache's gone.
The title, and the last line, come from the song "Til the Heartache's Gone" by Diamond Rio. Excellent, melancholy song. It played on my itunes and immediately put this story in my head. Hope you guys enjoyed, please let me know what you think, or if you're getting sick of these little one shots. :P
Laura