Morning ever after

BOOTH

A noise made him stir. His sniper senses alerted he was fully awake in an instant as he grabbed for his gun on the bedside table, his other arm instinctively shielding the woman next to him.

For 30 seconds he remained motionless, the gun sharply pointed at the closed bedroom door, and listened for any more suspicious noises from the other room. There were none.

So far he had only been reacting. A set of motions trained so well, so thoroughly, that he could perform them at any moment without thinking.

Now, after a full minute without anything happening, without any apparent threat, the events of the past night came back to him. They had made love. Gosh, he had slept with Bones. And she had told him that she was in love with him...

He could have believed it all to have been only another of his twisted dreams. Ever since his brain tumor he constantly had had parts of his coma dream coming back to him from time to time. Most often, it had been the part where he had imagined Bones and him to make love. He hadn't found any remedy to make him stop dreaming of it. Running through the woods for 10 miles would exhaust his body, but not his mind. He had gone for 10 rounds of killing imaginary targets at the shooting range right before bedtime, yet still he had woken up all sweaty and wildly disappointed when it all had turned out to be only another dream and not reality. He had cursed himself for his stupid thoughts. He had even briefly considered going back to Afghanistan. Anything. Anything at all – to squash his subconscious mind. Sweets would have had a field day with his messed up mind. Thank God, Sweets had never known.

The remedy to it all was right in his arms. He knew that now. And she was real, so real this morning.

In her sleep she had turned from his shoulder closer towards him. Her palm rested on his chest, her head right on top of it, just as she had clinged onto him when she had cried for Vincent earlier that night.

Only now, both of them were naked. Her left leg had entangled his leg. Feeling the warmth of her full body against his he felt his desire rise to make love to her again. He gently kissed her on top of her head where her hair had fallen loosely over her face covering it for the most part. She did not stir.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Five to seven. If they were aiming to be back at work at 9 they still had time. Damn, he thought, remembering Broadsky and all of yesterday's terrible events. On any other day he would have called in sick, would have told them he had a terrible migraine again. That he would have to stay in bed for the remainder of the week. With her. Well, he would leave out to inform the FBI about that last part.

But not today. Not with Broadsky out there on the loose, killing people. Not while Broadsky was still any threat to anybody of the team. Not while he was any threat to HER.

This was personal. Killing Vincent had made it all personal. And he knew none of them could rest as long as Broadsky wasn't caught. SHE certainly wouldn't, not even when she was exhausted. He wouldn't either, fearing for her safety, fearing that Broadsky could get to her.

No. They had to get Broadsky first. And he would. Anything to ease her mind. Anything to seek revenge for Vincent's death.

By God, he would kill the bastard! Cold rage stirred in him. He exhaled. Well, no, that would be murder. And Seeley Booth did not murder people. But – he could aim poorly and hit Broadsky where it really hurt, now couldn't he? Those things happened to the best of soldier. Those things sometimes could not be prevented in the heat of the moment, now could they?

And then, when Broadsky was out of their minds, out of their lives, they would...

Another noise made him grab his gun at once. He had to get up to check out the rest of the apartment. He could not risk not doing it, could not risk anything. Not while she was here. In his bed.

Smoothly he slid out of bed, noiselessly, like a soldier. He didn't want to wake her up, didn't want to leave her side. But he had to.

She moved her head. Mumbled something in her sleep but thankfully did not wake up.

Without a sound he opened the bedroom door. He was naked, except for his gun. Oh well, this was his apartment and any intruder would not get much time to enjoy the sight anyway. He checked the living room, then the corridor. The apartment door was locked from the inside, bolted. If Broadsky had gotten into the apartment he must have come through a window, up a drain – which given Broadsky's physical shape was highly unlikely. But well, Broadsky had managed to sneak in before, had threatened him in his own apartment. And this time there would be no words, just a bullet waiting to kill him. And he couldn't risk that.

He quickly went through the kitchen but could not detect anything out of the ordinary. He went to the bathroom the gun still sharply pointed, ready to react in the split of a second if necessary. He pushed aside the shower curtain. Nothing. He went to Parker's room. Looked under the bed. He felt stupid – did he expect a monster to come out from under there?

Still, the adrenaline rushed through his body. Made him check out every room once more, thoroughly eliminating every possible threat. Only then he returned to the bedroom.

He stopped at the door, took a moment there to look at her.

She had turned in her sleep. Had dragged the blanket with her so that her backside now lay half uncovered.

He drew closer. He locked the gun and put it down on the bedside table again. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted the blanket just enough to look at her full body in broad daylight. God, she was beautiful. So beautiful. He instantly felt remorse. What was he doing, checking her out while she was sleeping naked in his bed. Jesus, he acted like he was 15. What if she woke up? What was he ever going to say then!

He wanted her. Wanted to kiss her until she would respond to his kisses. Wanted to touch every inch of her body with his hands and feel her hands all over his body in turn.

He sighed. She looked exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted. Surely the desperate thoughts about Vincent's final words had kept her awake all night until she had come to him. They had made love only two hours ago. It didn't matter how much he longed to have her again. He couldn't. Al least not now. She needed her sleep. Needed every minute of sleep. Soon enough they would have to get up anyway.

God. He needed a cold shower. A very cold one.

The shower did help. At least to some extent. He had left the bathroom door open. His gun always within reach. They had to get Broadsky. There was no way they could keep living like this.

He smiled. THEY. They were an item now. His Bones was in love with him.

He decided he would make some fabulous breakfast for her. Eggs and bacon. And freshly grounded coffee, too. He was famous for his breakfast.

He went back to the bedroom a towel around his waist to find something to wear for the day.

"Booth." She sleepily turned her head towards him, then opened her eyes. "How late is it?"

He came closer, sat down on the bed right next to her. "Hey." He said and caressed her face with his hand. "Good morning!" He kissed her, tasted her lips. "It's seven twenty. Still early," he murmured barely moving away from her lips.

She frowned. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" She touched his hair that was still wet from the shower. "I am going to be late." She sat up.

He swept a strand of hair behind her ear, moved towards her again. "We have plenty of time." He whispered kissing her again.

"No, Booth." She drew back from his kiss. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet!" She protested.

Despite her protest he pulled her close, not willing to let her go. "You taste fine to me." As to prove it he tasted her lips, her tongue, deep and long. Slowly he felt her reluctance melt. "No complains here." He murmured before he went on to kiss her neck.

"I should get a shower." She said but she did not move.

His kisses became more urgent, he took her reluctance to get up for real as a sign to carry on. "...In a minute." He said. He had no intention to let her go.

God, he needed to make love to her again. Now. Right now. Everything else just had to wait.

He pulled away the blanket. Slowly made his way down to her most intimate parts. He felt her shiver under his kisses. Felt her exhale sharply whenever he touched another delicate spot.

She tugged his towel. Then pulled him close and on top of her.

Tonight. Tonight, they would go slow, he promised. For now – he enjoyed her urgency, her desire to want him to make love to her right away again.

He'd always imagined their lovemaking to be nothing but passionate. Because she was a passionate woman. Because she was his Bones. With her it would always be everything – or nothing at all. Nothing in between. Nothing held back. No false pretense.

"I love you." He whispered hoarsely. He remembered he had not said it yet. Had not said it to her face. He needed her to know.

"I love you, too, Booth." She panted. She pulled him closer, her legs wrapped around his body, clinging to him. Urging him to break the law of physics again. For her. With her.

They moved faster, found the that same rhythm again. Both reached the climax within seconds of each other.

Jesus. Exhausted, he buried his head in her hair. It had been amazing. This time even more than their lovemaking two hours before.

She was right, he thought before he almost drifted into sleep. They were very compatible – sexually at least. God, it would be so much pleasure to do it all again.

He smiled to himself realizing that he already thought about making love to her again while his body had not even recovered yet from making love to her this time...

Making love to her again would stay a dangerously tempting thought for the rest of the day. It would raise the bar to catch that bastard Broadsky quickly, to get over with him once and for all. And then head back to her to make love to her again and again for the rest of the week. They had to make up for seven lost years. And he intended to make up for every single one of them.

However, unfortunately first they had to get up now. Leave each other's presence. He hated it. Hated even the thought of it.

The alarm clock showed seven forty-seven. OK, so they had lost track of time.

"Booth?" She sighed heavily.

Something in her voice alerted him. He raised his head to meet her face and to kiss her passionately one last time before they would definitely need to get going. Tears in her eyes made him stop. "What's wrong?" He asked concerned, confused. What did he do wrong? Had he hurt her making love to her?

"I don't want you to go after Broadsky." She said. A tear ran down her cheek. "I don't want to loose you."

"Shh!" His heart was full with love for her. He gently wiped away the tear with his thump, cupped her face in his palm. What could he say – they both knew it was his job. Both knew the dangers of it.

"I have to stop him, Bones. I have to stop him from killing people." He kissed her cheek, the spot where the tear had moistened it a moment ago. He let his lips brush over hers. Being lovers, and not just partners anymore, would have an impact on their professional relationship, and could certainly complicate matters. They would have to figure out how to deal with it.

Her hands came up, petted his arms. She clung to him. "I know. I know you will have to go after him. I know you cannot stop until you have him in custody. It scares me." More tears came to her eyes.

"No, no, no, no." He murmured. Helpless to see her cry. "I will be careful, okay?"

He pulled her close again, kissed her. Then moved only an inch away from her lips. "I have something to come home to now... I am not alone."

She looked questioningly at him. "I don't understand."

He smiled. Then kissed her again. He took the time to linger until he felt her relax, felt her respond to his kiss. They would be late. He didn't care. He had gained so much in the wee hours of this morning, so much now worth living for. "I have you, ...have you in my life now," he said, "right?"