Title: A Series of Events
Summary: Post-finale drabble
Ratings/Spoilers: K for tame - not any spoilers, unless you haven't seen the finale.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: eh, nothing special, i just had to force myself to write something. ambiguous ending on purpose, sorry.
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There aren't any reasons - only excuses - for why she let him go. She tells herself that this is what she wanted, but her fingers shake as she places his compass on her desk. She wonders why the people she loves always leave her with trinkets, but mostly she wonders why they leave at all.
When she was fifteen, her parents left her an empty house and a million questions to fill it with. Her brother left her a few weeks later, calmly helping her fold her clothes and put them in plastic bags before casually saying goodbye as a social worker led her away from their home, her fingernails pressing crescent shaped cuts into her palms as he drove away.
"Bones, you finished with that paperwork from the last case?" Causally leaning against the door frame, Booth loosens his tie and looks at her expectantly. She's not at all intuitive, but she knows it's way after hours on a Friday, so if he doesn't has a case, he's here for her.
"I sent those forms to your office by courier hours ago," She deadpans, looking up from her computer screen and feigning concern, "Did they never get to you?"
He smiles and crosses the threshold, folding down on her couch and propping his feet on the end table, careful to avoid the folders and lab results strewn across. "Courier must have gotten lost, the Hoover building can be like a labyrinth."
"Really? I wasn't aware." She responds and he nods solemnly, his face somehow mimicking the look of a small boy who swears that he is telling the truth.
"So how about those files, maybe some Thai food afterwards." He says temptingly, lifting his arms to rest them behind his head and closing his eyes. He feels a slight tap on his right shoulder and the soft weight of a piece of paper. When he opens his eyes, she's standing above him, arms crossed and fingers tapping morse code into her arms.
"Looks a little thin to be the case file." He mutters, putting his feet firmly on the ground and inspecting the paper. His face visibly pales and then he looks up with a sheepish smile and a light shrug of his shoulders, "You can't blame a guy for trying."
"Signature delivery, what are you really doing here Booth?"
"I'm hungry," he wines, standing up and reaching out, "And if I don't feed you, you don't eat."
She scoffs lightly and maneuvers out of his grasp, "I've got a lot of work to catch up on Booth, especially with Angela, Zach and Hodgins out of the office."
Following her to her desk, he looks at the crown of her head as she hunches over an impressive stack of files and plans his next move. Letting out an odd sound of disapproval, he turns off her monitor and lifts her by her shoulders.
"If you don't release, I can seriously hurt you." She warns while he grabs her coat.
"Nope, you're coming with me Temperance."
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She struggles for a few seconds with a bright smile but with his hand on her arm, she the lightest she's felt in weeks. Since before her father had reappeared to only be taken away. Since before Angela and Hodgins had left her standing at the altar, the expectant eyes of their families looking to her for an explanation while Zach gave her a fierce hug and slowly walked out the chapel doors, leaving Booth holding her hand, a pristine white envelope in his jacket pocket containing an apology and an explanation.
They reach the double doors and at this point she is walking willingly, he slows to regard her, "See, this is so much easier when you don't resist - we both know that there was no way I was leaving without you." He smiles, and she sees him for the first time, the firmly rooted, upright man who has no reason to run, and wouldn't leave, even if she asked him to.
As he ushers her out of the building, his hand hovering at her back, she feels like he is leading her some place new for the first time in two years.
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She'd shown up at his office a few nights later, an invitation to dinner and a spring in her step.
He'd agreed quickly, eager to discover the cause of her changed smile and bright eyes.
She cooks and he promises to clean and they both make small talk and wonder what is coming next.
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He's standing over her sink, looking so out of place and yet so right, with his sleeves rolled up past his elbow and humming softly.
"Come to help, or just supervise?" He calls over his shoulder, his hands methodically moving from dish to dish. She sides up, throwing a dry towel at him while grabbing the dishrag from his hand.
"I wash, you dry." She commands, wincing slightly as she submerges her hands in the hot water. He's stunned for a second, tisking and visibly annoyed.
"Sure, take the easier job - I see how it is."
She chooses to ignore his comment, simply passing dishes into his hands and enjoying the moment. Ever few seconds he splashes a bit of water in her direction, which, in response, she ducks and utters threats while commenting on his mental age.
He's laughing when she passes him the last plate, their hands connect, wet and slippery, and she feels a palpable mood shift. She turns at an uncomfortable angle, he has stopped laughing and his smile fades while his eyes darken with seriousness. The intensity of his gaze makes her want to shrink away, but she can't move, she can't think. Her lips part and he steps forward.
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He kisses her softly over a sink full of dishes and light banter, her soapy hands resting softly against his chest and her lips tasting of red wine. She pulled back slowly, searching his face as he gingerly brushed her hair behind her ear with a glint in his eye and a smile full of promise.
When he left, jacket in hand and a softly closing door, there were no goodbyes. Just her, frozen in place, dishrag in one hand, the other tracing the contours of her mouth, as if his touch had changed her for good.