Title: THE KISS BOOTH
Author: omelette73
Rating: K
Spoilers/Timeline: present
Disclaimer: Bones = not mine at all.
Summary: a series of one-shots about Booth & Bones & kissing...
OK, he hadn't thought of that...
He estimated that the guy they were searching for would go in this particular bar, that he would come out from the rear door, that he would look around furtively, and that if he saw them he would possibly react violently to their presence.
So he had considered everything.
He had parked the SUV not far from the alley, in the shadow, he had put his gun on the dashboard – better have it within reach – and he had waited. With her, obviously.
Sitting by his side, she was demolishing every single choice he had made.
How could he possibly know that this was the right bar?
Why were they in the alley? There wasn't any sign that the suspect would come out from the rear door.
What if he escaped from the front entrance? How could they possibly see him?
And why had he parked there; didn't he notice that the car was more than visible there?
And why didn't she have a gun, while he waved his gun in front of her, without concern?
Was he trying to provoke her?
But then, the man came out, looking around furtively and Booth went after him, asking her to stay in the car.
Obviously.
She didn't.
And the guy heard her protesting while he crossed the road, You don't have to protect me, Booth. I can handle myself!
And the man pulled out the gun and Booth shielded Bones to protect her, aiming his own gun at the man, telling him he was FBI and that it was not a good idea to try and shoot an agent.
The guy was smarter than he had thought and luckily he lowered his gun, dropping it on the ground. So Booth handcuffed him and he escorted him to the SUV. After that, he had joined Bones, who, in the alley, was picking up the man's gun from the ground.
And naturally, she pointed out that his worries weren't necessary and, QED, nobody was in any danger.
He went closer, always silent and he reached for the gun, putting it in his belt, and kept on listening to her protests.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
There.
The sentence.
The one he hadn't thought of.
The one that turned his brain off, igniting his self-preservation instinct instead.
The one that made him take a step forward, pushing her back against the wall, while she threw him a quizzical look.
"Cause I don't want to," he said and then he kissed her.
Like that.
Without any warning.
Without meditating.
By instinct.
Just to shut her up.
But also because he wanted to do it.
Then blackout.
He couldn't think of anything but her soft lips and her taste.
In the exact moment he registered she was returning his kiss, instead of punching him right in the face –another possibility he hadn't thought of – he deepened their kiss, resting his hands on the wall, to prevent her from slipping away.
Not that she had any intention of doing it.
Kissing Bones in public was something different.
Her lips seemed to be made for his.
Losing himself in her mouth was driving him crazy. The way she was reacting was driving him crazy.
The fact that he wouldn't want to be in that stupid alley, but in a more comfortable bedroom, was driving him crazy.
Bones was driving him crazy.
Their tongues touched lightly and at that moment he had the sensation someone was knocking at the door of his conscience obscured by the passion.
He departed, looking at her and, God, he saw it, she was thinking.
He would have wanted to take her against that wall, right in that alley and she was thinking!
How the hell could he turn her brain off?
And for this reason he simply chose to say it out loud, considering that his Bones really sucked with the non-verbal communication.
"Stop thinking, Bones," he said, simply.
"How could you possibly know that I'm thinking?" She was annoyed, as she was every time she didn't understand how he could read in her mind.
"I feel it." He smiled lightly, knowing that this answer would drive her crazy.
"You can't feel my thoughts, Booth. It's scientifically impossible." Obvious answer.
What else could she say? Better to avoid the nonverbal communication and give her some of her beloved, irrefutable, unassailable facts.
"OK, Bones."
"Are you saying that just to shut me up?"
"Yes, Bones," and he assaulted her mouth again with all the passion suppressed in those five years.
And it worked.
He felt she had stopped thinking.