II. Tuesday

Tuesdays... they are predictable. They feel like the cookies you have baked so often that you don't have to look at the recipe anymore. The sharp edge of Monday has prepared you for yet another Tuesday, and deadlines are still far away on Friday.

Tuesday is a flow, and you know how to roll with it.

This early spring Tuesday had already brought closure. A case was solved; bones had gotten a name, grief a home.

Empathy found two partners staring into their drinks. The evening was dark while he was gaining comfort from her presence and vice versa.

"I couldn't do this without you," he finally said, twisting the heavy tumbler in his hand.

Her eyes found him, her gaze flowing over him like milk and honey.

"I know. My skills are crucial."

"No. I mean, yes, they are. But I was talking about you in general."

Not looking at her, he was surprised by the gentle touch of her hand on his.

"I'm always right beside you. What we do, our partnership... it's the most important thing."

"I don't know..."

His voice trailed off, while he gestured for one more drink, one more glasses of sweet oblivion. She waited patiently, but he could sense her confusion.

"It is important," he finally continued. "But the way I turn to you for comfort... How you soothe me with just one look... That's not a partner thing. It's just, I don't know, a you and me thing."

Honesty... it can be so dangerous, but sometimes it's impossible to settle for something less; even on a random Tuesday night when the March wind is whispering in the darkness. With a deep breath, she let her fingers trace his knuckles.

"I know that there is something else. I'm not... that stupid. But I believe that, whatever it is, this thing... added to our partnership it makes us stronger while it could be quite dangerous in another context."

"You know that, at some point, we'd have to test that theory, don't you?"

His fingers curled around hers, capturing them for a moment, but no part of her wanted to pull back. He was right, expanding their boundaries was somehow inevitable... but it was not a Tuesday thing to do. Breathing the same air, feeling each other's warmth, sharing the same thoughts – it would be enough for the moment.

They finished their drinks as the night grew older, and comfort turned into silence, silence into tiredness.

"You wanna come home with me?" she asked after a while. "I can offer you the couch and a cup of coffee in the morning."

Rubbing his rough face with one palm, Booth pondered the dark silence of his place.

"Yeah..."

They shared a mood and a cab. The city's lifelines were almost empty at that time of the night; only the horn of an ambulance car startled them. Her apartment smelled like familiarity, and right before she could switch on the light, right before he could say anything, Booth pulled his partner into his arms.

A gentle tug at her cold hand; a small step towards her, and with a low sigh she let him hug her.

Whenever I get scared...

Tilting her head, Brennan rested her cheek on his shoulder; tilting his head, Booth pressed his stubbly cheek to her smooth forehead. He smelled like everything that had happened today.

His arms held her loosely around her waist, his thumbs drawing circles over her sides. Expensive fabric, and, somewhere underneath, something even more precious. He could feel her arms snaking around his back, her fingertips whispering over the curve of his spine.

Vertebrae and phalanges.

Clavicle and malar bone.

Brennan could name every single bone, every muscle, every sinew as well. She knew hormones, pheromones, neurotransmitters. However, in this stolen Tuesday night, she realized that her wisdom had hit a dead end. Bodies... she knew them, she knew them to bits and pieces. But nobody had ever taught her the bigger picture.

There was no textbook about the perfect fit of skin to skin, no words about the ridiculous peace of his breath so close to hers.

She felt a rush of weakness, as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, and his arms around her tightened. She was close, so very close to him, and the flame that flickered between them warmed her from the inside out; warmed him as well, and Booth took a deep breath that smelled like Tuesday's comfort and her. She was so pliant in his arms that her openness covered him like a fuzzy blanket. His fingers were still caressing her sides.

It would be easy, so very easy to slip his hands underneath the hem of her shirt, to travel over smooth skin. He knew that she wouldn't fight him, not today, but her words from earlier that night were still too fresh in his mind.

She wasn't ready to love him, and, truth be told, Booth didn't even know if he was ready himself. He did know, though, that he could never just sleep with Temperance Brennan without making love to her. His hand stayed over her shirt, and his mouth away from hers.

Because sometimes... sometimes doing nothing at all means something as well.

Tuesdays – as predictable as they are, sometimes they manage to surprise you, manage to reduce everything in your life to one moment of holding onto... something. Someone.

To be continued...