Title: Saturday
Author: Crearealidad
Rating: T/PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: none here
Summary: Brennan invites Booth unexpectedly to join her for breakfast and they have pie.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, nor does the diner, or any other recognizable stories or back plot. I don't know the people who make Bones and they don't know me. No copyright infringement is intended with this piece.
--
I was about to enter the diner when I noticed she was already inside. She was sitting alone, fanning herself impatiently. Her eyes were bright and wide and her face was flushed. I watched, fascinated, as her teeth bit down delicately on her lower lip. Grabbing for her water, she took a long drink, eyes glancing around. The site of it stopped me in my tracks.
Once she put down her water glass, I watched her try to regain her composure, pushing back her hair, folding her hands together neatly on the table. But apparently whatever had her agitated would not be abated and she was fidget again in a moment. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips repeatedly, making my breath catch in my throat. She looked down at herself, examining the snug t-shirt she was wearing and tugged at it, adjusting the way it fit over her breasts.
My curiosity was firmly in place when I finally opened the door to the diner and entered. She saw me immediately and as those overly bright blue eyes snagged my gaze, she licked her lips once more, leaving them parted to take what looked to be a shaky breath. As I approached the table, I tried not to notice that her eyes were sweeping down me, appraising me in a way that had nothing to do with her usual observant, but detached attention.
"Bones, you okay?" I asked, sliding into the booth next to her. She didn't move to make room, leaving me pressed to her side and hanging slightly off the end of the bench. When my thigh made contact with hers, I could feel the heat radiating there.
She turned to look at me. "I'm fine, Booth. Just a little warm. I decided to walk over here from the metro since we're not in any hurry."
I was surprised to see the blush on her face darken as I smiled at her. When she averted her eyes after a moment, I knew something was going on. "So…"
"I already ordered us coffee, I hope that's okay. I was going to go ahead and order you some pie, but it's pretty early for pie. We can order food when they bring us our coffee…" Her voice trailed off as I put a hand on hers.
"Sounds good. To what do I owe the honor of this early morning invitation to breakfast? I mean, it is a Saturday," I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from her hand, which had turned over, pressing her palm to mine to twine our fingers together.
She slid further into the booth then, keeping me closely in tow. Her hand was exceptionally warm and her fingers kept drumming against the back of my hand as she spoke, "Normally, I like to get out of my apartment on Saturdays for breakfast on my own. Nothing fancy, usually just some fruit, granola, or a bagel. This morning, I remembered you saying that you didn't have Parker this weekend and I thought you might like to have some company."
The waitress arrived then with our coffee, gently setting our cups before us. We quickly ordered and then I turned back to face her, studying her for a moment before responding to her explanation, "Did Angela put you up to this?"
The ever nosy friend had accidentally overheard my conversation with Rebecca the day before. I'd been quite upset that Rebecca had signed Parker up for a weekend sports camp without telling me and I'd noticed Angela's sympathetic gaze and abrupt departure when I revealed that I had turned down an invitation because I thought I was going to be with Parker all weekend. It had been a childish lie, but I knew such a juicy detail would not have escaped Angela's curious observance.
"No. Why do you ask? I haven't had time to talk to her much at all this week. She's been buried in a mountain of identifications that came in from a cemetery flood in Iowa earlier this week." She withdrew her hand from mine to take a drink of her coffee.
"It's nothing. She overheard a fight I had with Rebecca the other day and she had that look in her eye…"
I was surprised when she grinned broadly and appeared to be holding back laughter. "I know that look. But no, I just remembered you were alone for the weekend and thought I should invite you to… you know, breakfast," she explained, gesturing to the table at our coffee cups.
The blush that had finally subsided was reignited by her words. It started at the neckline of her soft blue t-shirt and spread upward like pink smoke swirling. I was fascinated by the sight of her: Dr. Temperance Brennan is not easy to embarrass and I wasn't even trying. Whatever was rolling around in that head of hers had to be a doozey.
I didn't realize until she squirmed away slightly that I had been staring unabashedly at her chest and throat. Her hand brushed up to slide over the places where my gaze had been.
"Stop staring, Booth. You're making me uncomfortable."
"Sorry, not fully awake," I said, shaking my head to fake drowsiness. "This should help though," I continued, lifting my cup in a mock-toast before taking a drink and dragging my eyes away from her.
I tried to keep my eyes elsewhere. Glancing around impatiently, I feigned a hunt for our waitress. Then I felt a hand settle on my shoulder, bringing my gaze to a halt and catching my breath in my throat. It slid down my arm and settled on my own, curling slightly to squeeze my fingers.
"Booth, since it's Saturday and there isn't a case, can I ask you something personal?" Her question was so tentative and quiet that it shook me.
"You know you can, Bones. It's not like work or a case ever really stopped you before."
"But I want an answer, without jokes or fighting."
My eyes came back to her face, stunned by the fear that seemed to cling to her familiar features. I turned my hand over, taking hold of hers fully in encouragement, telling her, "Go ahead. I'll do my best not to be an ass."
That made her let out a little nervous laughter, ducking her head to hide the resurgence of that blush. When her eyes came back up, she seemed to have calmed some of her anxiety. "You're not an ass, Booth. I probably deserve most of what I get. I don't always know when to stop pushing…" After a moment of hesitation, she release her question with all the strength of a sucker-punch to the gut: "Do you ever get lonely, Booth?"
When I didn't respond, she continued her assault, her voice growing rough and nearly breaking as she spoke, "I mean, I know you have Parker but you don't see him as often as you'd like, I know. And you never mention friends or dates or even hobbies. And I wondered if maybe you know what's wrong with me. Why lately I can't seem to… The things that once made me feel fulfilled don't seem to… since we met—I…" Her words dissolved and before she dropped her head to her chest, I could see the tears forming in her eyes.
The grip she had on my hand had become nearly painful as she clung to the contact. I struggled to absorb the litany of revelations she had just spilled all over the table.
"Bones," I began tugging her hand until I could wrap my other hand around the embrace. "Of course I'm lonely sometimes. It's a consequence of loving our jobs, being what they are." She leaned against my shoulder, listening intently to my words. I could feel her warmth breath though my t-shirt as she struggled to calm herself. "We invest our time and our energy in our work by choice because we recognize the importance of it. We are passionate what we do, each for our own reasons. Our emotions are wrapped up in our jobs and the people who share our passions, who help us get our job done. Before we know it, that world becomes all we have. But as we grow, we realize what we're missing by not cultivating our relationships, what we lose by making our choice."
My heart ached as I heard her sniffle and slowly pull herself away from me, bringing her eyes up to meet my gaze. The redness in her cheeks now was vastly different from the delicate pink that had tinged her face just a few minutes earlier. My hand came to her cheek, trying to sooth the angry blotches there. She leaned into my hand then, nearly nuzzling me and I thought I caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.
Her voice sounded harsh and tight when she spoke once more. "It used to be easy to fight this. I had no family, not many friends beyond work, I dated but it never lasted long. Work satisfied me. The pursuit of gathering evidence always enveloped me so completely, nothing else could interfere, not even loneliness. Angela always understood that about me, but most people don't. She felt the same way about her art. It's how we've remained friends as long as we have. But then along came Russ, and my dad, and you…"
Once again, her words faded away, but this time I could see her considering something. The hand that had been on her cheek moved to tuck a stray bit of auburn hair back, my finger brushing the edge of her ear, eliciting a sharp gasp. She bit down on her lower lip, pulling it to one side, eyeing me with narrowed eyes. I was about to pull her into a hug, when our plate began appearing on the table.
Startled, we both turned to face the waitress, who was obviously trying to contain a smirk as she distributed our meal. Before she left the waitress winked at me and said, "Let me know when you're ready for some pie, sweetie. Got a fresh apple pie in the oven, should be ready by the time y'all are finishin' up."
When the waitress retreated, I turned to face Bones, who was trying unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter. "What's so funny?" I growled.
"I think you've got an addiction, Booth. I've never seen that waitress before, meaning she's probably new. The others must've let her in on the key to getting a decent tip out of you: Pie. I'll bet they've even got a nickname for you."
The smile on her face floored me, but it was the hand that moved to pay my thigh that made my throat catch. Clearing my throat, I responded defensively, "They wouldn't do that. I don't come in here that often."
"Booth. I was a waitress once. Trust me, these girls have a name for you. The look your face when you take that first bite… Just believe me. You're memorable. I wouldn't be surprised if they put that pie in just for you when they saw me arrive."
Her playful gaze danced over my face, quite possibly focusing on my mouth and I was quickly cursing my own skin for its traitorous blush. Forcing the scowl back on my face, I picked up my fork and stabbed into my eggs, taking a bite and chewing, refusing to meet her gaze. Swallowing, I attempted to change the subject, asking her, "You were a waitress, Bones? I always had you pegged for a full-ride scholarship kid."
She laughed again at that. "I was, but scholarships don't cover things like clothes and pens and paper. Coming out of the foster care system, I didn't have much. So until I gained enough knowledge to earn myself a job as a lab technician, I waited tables at an all-night diner."
"Did you wear one of those cute little aprons?" I asked, the question escaping unbidden. I tried to picture her at eighteen. She probably hadn't fully filled out yet, mostly arms and legs, dressed in a uniform shirt that didn't quite fit her right and tight slacks with an apron cinched around her trim waist.
Shaking her head, she poured some milk into her oatmeal, stirring it in before taking a bite. "Yeah, but it wasn't small. It was one of the ones with a bib, pink, with these horrible ruffles around the edge."
In an instant, that frilly apron appeared on my previously sexy Temperance waitress and I broke out in a fit of laughter. I could see her disgust at the tackiness of it as I mourned the sudden shielding of her imaginary form.
I turned back to my plate, still chuckling occasionally at the thought of it as I dug back into my food. From the corner of my eye, I watched her, curious if I would see a return of our abandoned conversation, but we finished our food in relative silence, until the waitress returned to ask if I was ready for my pie. I'd nodded tersely and turned back towards Bones, who hissed under her breath, "They so call you something, Booth. See the other two? They're watching you from the backroom."
I sighed heavily, refusing to acknowledge my awareness of the two faces staring at me. When the waitress returned with my slice of pie, I found myself staring at it, suddenly self-conscious.
"Bones…" I said, waiting for her to turn to look at me. "What do I do when I eat pie? I mean, you said I make a face…"
I was shocked to see her blush once again, before trying to shrug it off. "I don't know, it's just a face." When I glanced at her skeptically, she continued, "You just… You look like… Like you really enjoy it. Sometimes you close your eyes. And when you're done, you… you lick your lips."
"Can't a guy enjoy his pie? Why is that so 'memorable' as you put it?"
She avoided my eyes then and it hit me. She was saying that there was something sexual about my expression. I was speechless, but my mouth opened in an attempt to voice my realization. I cleared my throat, but before I could speak, she fairly pushed me out of the booth, muttering something about the restroom. I tried to hop out of her way as she brushed past me, headed for the restroom.
I was left stunned.
She was aroused. Her sudden departure only served to cement my belief. The thought made me wonder about her earlier agitation when I'd first arrived. Certainly, there was something more going on her than she'd admitted to.
Looking down at my pie, I considered taking a bite, but decided that needed to wait until she returned. I wanted confirmation. As I sat my fork down on the plate, I caught the fallen expressions of the still peering faces.
Unable to resist, I grinned at the ladies and gestured to Bones' vacant seat. I caught their laughter floating faintly from the back room as they disappeared. My confidence swelled and when Bones finally returned from the restroom, my grin was beyond control.
I stood to let her back in and she took her seat quickly, glancing suspiciously from me to the still untouched slice of pie.
"Aren't you going to eat your pie, Booth?" She asked finally when I took my seat next to her.
"I am… I am… But first…" I picked up my fork, cutting a bite from the end. I lifted the fork towards her, putting a hand beneath the precarious piece just in case. "First you are going to try a bite."
She shook her head firmly. "I told you, Booth, I don't—" I pushed the fork towards her open lips and she took the bite, possibly only to avoid the stab of the prongs. A bit of filling dribbled down her lip as she chewed, her eyes actually lighting up as she swallowed, a slow smile coming to her lips. Her tongue swept out to swipe up the lost filling, leaving her lip deliciously shining and moist.
I clamped my mouth shut when I realized that I was gawking. My own arousal was stirring as she smacked those lips into a satisfied smile. "That was actually quite good, Booth. Tart, not nearly as sweet as I expected."
I chuckled as she licked her lips once more. Behind me, I could feel those eyes from the backroom bearing down on me. "Now, it's my turn." I took the fork and extended it to her.
It was her turn to be stunned. "What—?"
"I fed you a bite. Now you gotta feed me," I teased, once against thrusting the fork in her direction, scooting the plate towards her.
Those eyes were struggling to dissect my expression, so suspiciously that I nearly laughed at her. At this point, her blush seemed to be permanently painted on every inch of her skin, showing no sign of dissipating.
Reluctantly, she took the fork from my hand and cut a piece for me. As she lifted it gingerly to my lips, I caught her eye and licked my lips in anticipation. Her eyes quickly darted to focus on my lips as I opened them to allow the pie entrance. I tasted the sharp metal of the fork first and closed my lips down to seal in the pie. The sweet filling hit my tongue next, hot and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. She withdrew the fork slowly and I took the bite, the flaky sweet crust came next to my taste buds. As I bit down on the small bite, a soft tart apple exploded across my tongue, making me let out a little groan of pleasure at it's fresh, warm flavor. I chewed slowly, letting the tastes mingle in my mouth. I could feel her shifting next to me on the bench and I let my tongue slip out to check for traces of taste on my lips.
I finished chewing and swallowing, opening my eyes to find hers riveted to my face. "Umm… Booth…" she said, her voice barely more than a ragged whisper. "That's the face. Right there."
I could see her breath coming in short gasps as I asked teasingly, "You like?"
"The pie? Yes. I told you—"
"No, my face."
"I was just point out that—"
"Temperance. You're grinning like an idiot."
I regretted my comment immediately when she stole the brilliant smile from her lips, but was gratified to see that it was still clinging tremulously to the corners of her mouth. Her eyes still hadn't wavered from my face and she was so close that I could see the pattern of indigo swirls in her irises and feel the warmth of her breath teasing my lips.
"Incredible," I murmured, the word escaping me before I could stop it. My whole body felt her hand make contact with my knee and tightened at the heat her touch brought.
"What's incredible? The pie?"
I rolled my eyes at her obvious avoidance as her eyebrows furrowed into a crease of concentration. For a moment, I considered correcting her, but I didn't want her to stop looking at me like I was something warm, sweet and sticky that she was dying to taste. "Yeah, Bones. The pie," I said, the sarcasm dripping from my lips.
Her lips began quivering as the hand on my knee drifted upward a few inches, her fingers tightening slightly. I felt my pants tightening, growing increasingly uncomfortable. I tried to subtly shift myself into a more comfortable position, finally settling as I suddenly realized that there was another bite of pie dangling in front of my face. A single slice of apple, coated in sticky syrup was pinched between her delicate fingers just inches from my lips.
I glanced from the apple to her face, which still remained fully under her tight control. "Take another bite, Booth, the ladies are watching…" she teased. After another moment of consideration, I leaned in, using my tongue to draw the soft fruit into my mouth, brushing her fingertips in the process. I suck it fully into my mouth, biting down and tasting the tart explosion of juice in my mouth as I observed that her fingers, still coated in golden syrup were still lingering near my lips. Once I swallowed, I couldn't stop my lips from enveloping those sugar-coated fingers in my mouth, my tongue rolling over them like ice cream, or perhaps something warmer. Her lips parted slightly as I held her thumb in her mouth as my eyes came up to meet hers. I held there for a long moment, laving my tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of her I'd found beneath all that sticky syrup, still tinged in spice.
I released her with a resounding 'pop'.
At some point, the hand that had been on my lower thigh had dragged itself staggeringly close to my erection and I was dumbfounded at the sight of her as she brought her finger, still wet from my mouth, to her lips, placing a lingering kiss there.
Suddenly, our world shattered when the waitress leaned in to gather our plates, muttering something about a to-go box for the pie before disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.
Bones had returned to her seat, the hand that had been burning its way up my thigh now pushing stray hairs back from her face. I squirmed uncomfortably, knowing there was no position that was going to offer any semblance of relief now. I ached as I watched her pull out her wallet in silence, extracting more than enough money for the bill, refusing to even glance my way.
The waitress returned, quickly dropping my to-go box and the check on the end of the table, her pale face burning as red as tomato.
"I've um… got to go, Booth. I have… I'm supposed to meet Angela—" She said, as she stood, the words bubbling out of her.
"Take this," I said, handing her the small Styrofoam container.
"It's yours, Booth."
"But you liked it. And you don't like pie. So I want you to have it."
Shyly, she averted her eyes, but accepted my offering as I let her slide out of the booth. She turned and set the money on the table next to the bill. For a moment, she paused, then pulled an additional five from her wallet, laying it down as well.
"That's a pretty extravagant tip, Bones."
She laughed slightly and replied, "They deserve it." I watched her turn to leave, noting the slight wavering in her stride as she moved. At the door, she stopped, turned back and looked at me. "Booth… do you… We could have dinner. Tonight, if you want."
I nodded. "I'll pick you up. Six okay?"
She nodded, "Six. I'll be at home."
With that, she exited the diner, leaving me feeling very alone, despite the fact that her taste was still lingering on my tongue along side the cinnamon and apples.
--
End Note: What kind of fic writer would I be if I ignore the whole pie thing? Let me know what you think because it makes me smile.
Side: I really need to stop writing these fics in public places. This one was written on a very busy coffee shop patio with people all around. I'm just glad my sunburn was hiding the wicked blush I was sporting while writing this… I'm starting to think I may be some kind of literary exhibitionist. I'm just daring people to read my smut over my shoulder now.