Title: Follow My Lead
Rating: PG for passing references to alcoholism
Summary: Booth and Brennan literally dance around their feelings for each other at a Jeffersonian function, each wanting the other to know how they feel, but not tonight...
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Bones'. Much to my constant chagrin and sadness.
A/N: I thought this would be fun to publish before we get to actually meet Booth's grandfather on this week's episode! :) In any case, enjoy!
"Whoa, whoa, Bones, you've got to let ME lead!" Seeley Booth admonished his partner, shifting his hands around hers to put him back in control.
"I don't see what difference it makes if I happen to be leading." Dr. Temperance Brennan replied sharply. "I've told you before, how else will I know what I'm supposed to do?"
Her pale skin flushed pink with irritation as a misplacement of her feet caused her to practically face-plant in front of the elites of the Jeffersonian Institution. Those who foot the bills and those who do the footwork were currently milling in the pristinely kept gardens of the museum, enjoying a warm spring night under a conveniently clear sky.
He shook his head. "Then you've been dancing with the wrong guys, they're supposed to be making you look good." Not that that would be a difficult task by any stretch of the imagination. What kind of morons were leading his Bones around the dance floor? They obviously didn't deserve the privilege if they couldn't take proper care of her.
Seeley swallowed, trying to dissolve the lump of emotion in his throat that looking at his partner's obvious vexation. There was nothing he wanted to do more than get down on his knees in front of Temperance Brennan and profess to her and the world how absolutely crazy in love he was with her.
But he realized that here, in front of the bosses she constantly complained were far too stupid to be financially involved in the efforts of supporting a museum, just wouldn't be the right time. He would just exploit the opportunity to share a song, a dance, and a clear spring night with the most beautiful woman he knew.
She couldn't assemble a cohesive argument to marshal against Booth's declaration. Very few of the men she had dated had been any more than passable on the dance floor, and an even smaller percentage of those were able to lead her successfully. Besides, if she could place her life in his hands while at work on an all-too frequent basis, what was the harm in doing so on the dance floor where there weren't any serial killers or garden variety psychopaths lurking in the bushes? At least she hoped there weren't.
Especially with Booth grinning encouragement at her and offering his hands, offering himself…
"Fine." She said, struggling to keep her voice light, "Only if you promise not to step on my toes or drop me on my ass. I do have a reputation to maintain as a scientist, not a klutz." She wanted this dance to be more than just a dance. Temperance wanted to hear Seeley Booth say 'I love you', and not have him back down and give her the most half-assed stipulation she had ever heard. Even she wasn't blind enough to miss the significance of that outburst.
She had gone with the flow and smiled like it was nothing more than friendly banter and fraternal punches between partners. But no matter how much she wanted him to just grab her by the shoulders, plant a deep kiss on her lips, and look into her eyes and say 'I love you' without a horrible catch, she knew that he wouldn't.
Not tonight.
Gingerly she laid her hands over his and the warmth surging through her fingers at his touch almost made her want to giggle like a little girl. Seeley relocated her left hand to his shoulder while never losing his gentle grip on her right.
"Ready?" He asked her, waiting for the right count to begin sliding across the grass as the DJ switched on one of his childhood favorites; 'Fly Me To The Moon' by Frank Sinatra.
Tempe took a deep breath. "Ready."
He began swaying side to side, eyes closed, breathing in the unobtrusive yet somehow pervasively scent of Temperance's perfume. Chanel No. 5 was his guess. That was Grandma's favorite, the one she wore when she would go dancing with Pops. In the space of a breath he was lost in the music and in the eyes of the woman in his arms. The bright red sheath dress she had chosen served to make her tempest-blue eyes as bottomless as the ocean and give her chestnut hair a russet halo in the glow of the bright outdoor lights.
When the recorded orchestra had played its first few beats, Seeley began moving with surprising grace for a man of his size and stature. Every cue he gave was sharp and solid; she had no trouble deciphering how and where he wanted her to move. With fluid polish she followed him, even allowing herself to be pulled against his chest. Tentatively her cheek rested against the cool silk of her partner's best suit. She asked the space in front of his pocket square, "Where did you learn to dance like this, Booth?" Asking such a personal question was quite out of her nature, but the insatiable curiosity that made her the bane of the criminal world would not be denied.
He was silent for a moment before beginning slowly, "When Jared and I were kids, if stuff with Dad got too bad, then my grandparents would sometimes come and take us for the weekend. I guess they were trying to make sure we got to be kids sometimes." The agent was thoughtful as he swung his favorite forensic scientist out for a neat outside turn. "Anyway, Grandma and Pops would go swing dancing on Saturday nights and if we were with them then we'd go too. Jared was always more interested in the punch and cookies than anything else. But I really loved watching Grandma and Pops out on the floor together. It always amazed me that when they danced it was like there was no one else in that tiny, cramped community center. Mom and Dad didn't look at each other like that, especially not when Dad's drinking got bad. They were just special somehow." Seeley sighed to himself. "Pops eventually figured out that I'd rather learn to dance than stand awkwardly by the wall and started teaching me how to swing. But I had to promise that I would always put my partner before me and do my best to make sure she enjoyed herself."
Temperance smiled up at her FBI agent and commented wryly, "Somehow I think your grandfather was talking about things other than matching steps and not squashing toes."
"Yeah," he chuckled, "but what the hell did I know about… that? I was only nine years old at the time, Bones."
"Well, anthropologically speaking, boys do develop an interest in sex ahead of their female peers." She paused. "Booth," Tempe said hesitantly, "I'm quite surprised that you're so comfortable talking about your childhood." She contemplated whether or not it could be attributed to Booth consuming some substantial amount of alcohol, but then remembered that he had barely touched his one glass of beer. Hmm. Perhaps it was continuing in the vein of that conversation the two had had with Sweets all those months ago, their metaphorical comparing of scars. "You pretend your life is so simple, that you're just some military drone, but you're so much more than that."
Somehow Seeley knew that that last statement was rhetorical. For a few moments the pair moved silently over the floor, content to linger in the safe and comfortable silence of the place between them where words lost all importance and every gesture spoke what they could not. They remained in each others' arms long after Ol' Blue Eyes and his orchestra drifted out of the speakers and a livelier tune took its place.
"So what about you, Bones?" Seeley ventured as he picked up the new beat, "Where did you pick up your mad dance skills?"
She stared blankly at him for a second before stating matter-of-factly, "I don't know what that means. But at home, my dad would twirl me around the living room when we would listen to old music and my mom and I would choreograph routines to our favorite Cindy Lauper songs. We would put on shows for Dad and Russ, who more than likely clapped solely out of a sense of obligation. But I never liked to dance in public. I remember Russ had to drag me to our high school's Homecoming my freshman year, and even then, I just stood by the wall." She sighed, "Besides, no one wanted to dance with me anyway." Her tone grew wistful and her eyes quickly dropped and latched themselves on the marble patio as though it held all of the deep-seated answers to the world's unsolved mysteries within its natural designs.
"I'm sorry."
Tempest-blue eyes snapped up in surprise. "For what, Booth?"
He squeezed her hand gently. "That no one danced with you. I wouldn't have let you be a wallflower."
In that moment she saw the boy he had been in high school: the boy who remembered his first kiss and the girl he shared it with, the semi-illiterate jock, tall and strong for his age, brown eyes dancing with mischief as his teenage-rebellion-length hair flopped in his face.. He beckoned her out on the crowded gym floor and suddenly she didn't feel so lost and alone once he took her hand.
Shaking herself out of this fantasy she flushed and stammered, "No, no I doubt you would have. You don't let me be one now either." she pointed out.
"A beautiful woman deserves a turn in the spotlight." Seeley replied seriously, the warmth in his gaze easily stripping through the armor that she had worked so hard to build around herself all those years ago, and giving her a place to belong.
She smiled shyly and accepted that compliment with an easy grace that she did not feel in the slightest. "Any woman would be lucky to have you as a partner, Booth."
"Yeah, I am pretty good, aren't I?" He preened jokingly before brushing a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "But how would I catch all those murderers who think they've already gotten away all by myself? I don't want anyone by my side but you."
Tempe didn't fail to notice that the conversation had taken quite the drastic turn from dancing and closer to the subject she wished they could broach.
But not tonight.
She could feel where Seeley's lips touched her skin like a tattoo engraved for all to see. Maybe someday he would realize that she didn't want anyone but him, but until then, she would wait. Wait for her Knight in FBI Standard Issue Body Armor to sweep her off of her feet. And as if he could sense her train of thought, as the song ended, Seeley did just that.
She laughed in delight, pure childlike joy radiating from her smile. "Booth, you couldn't be rid of me if you tried. Imagine how much trouble you'd get in without me!"
Booth chuckled as he pulled Tempe upright into a hug. "I think you're the one who gets us in trouble." Not that he minded; he loved being the one who looked after her. For a squint she had an uncanny knack for getting herself into sticky situations, but as long as he was there, he would make sure that nothing harmed his favorite anthropologist. And maybe someday he would tell her that he wanted nothing more than to be with her forever.
But not tonight.
For now he would wait. Wait until the most brilliant woman he knew could finally see the love he had always offered. But until then, he would wait until she was ready to let down her shields for good.
"Now you're just splitting wigs." Dr. Temperance Brennan rolled her eyes and tapped his nose in mischief.
"Hairs, Bones. Splitting hairs." He sighed forlornly.
"Whatever."