The Fuel in the Fight

Season 2, Episode 8, "The Woman in the Sand"

Brennan's POV

Booth and I sat in the hotel room an hour after his fight. I was holding a pack of ice on his head, while he layed on another four.

"Ow," he mutters yet again.

"I know, Booth. But, you won, and we solved the murder. Now, just rest," I say.

"Okay," he replies sleepily.

I smile softly. Booth looked cute, even if he was bruised and a teensy bit bloody. Wait, cute? I never thought Booth looked cute. He let out a slight snore and made me giggle. I freeze. I was thinking Booth was cute, and his snore made me giggle. What the Hell was wrong with me? I sigh, move the ice to his chest, and switch hands. Rational thought had always been my strong suit, but seeing Booth so vulnerable and injured, again, is throwing all rational thought out the window.

A few hours later, I was being shaken awake.

"Bones. C'mon, sleepy, wake up," Booth says gently.

"Go away," I mumble, putting my face into my pillow.

"Ow," I hear, and I look up; Booth had been my pillow.

"Sorry," I immediately stand up, and despite my best efforts, my cheeks were bright red.

"I'm just sore. I wasn't complaining, though," he teases.

I don't answer him, as I was waiting to calm down and let the blush fade. He just smiles at me before stretching, and then he winces.

"Maybe I should have more ice before we leave," he looks at me.

"Sure, I'll go get some," I say, thankful for an excuse to leave.

I walk down to the ice machine. Why was he making me act like this? Why had I used him as a pillow? Nothing made sense anymore. I was an adult, for goodness sake! Yet, here I was, acting like I was a teenager with her first boyfriend. I sigh and place a hand over my mouth. Of course that was the answer. I had always thought love was just chemicals in the brain, but Booth obviously, and stubbornly, told me otherwise. Now, I understood why. It was so much more. I get the ice and head back to our room.

"Took you long enough," Booth grins as he lays down, back up in the air.

"You're lucky I even got you some ice," I reply.

"You offered," he gave a satisfied sigh as I placed the ice bags on his back.

"I know."

We sit in a comfortable silence, like we do a lot. It was almost the same, except that now that I had come to this new realization about Booth and love, it was almost awkward.

"Booth?" I ask gently.

"Yeah?"

"Remember our first case, and how you kissed me?" I ask.

"Yes, I do. I probably shouldn't have kissed you," he sighs again.

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what?"

"Kiss me," I say; it should have been obvious.

"Temperance, I felt something. You wouldn't care," he trails off.

"You're wrong. I feel it, too. I love you, Booth," I say, placing the last ice bag on the top of his head.

He turns his head.

"You love me?"

"I love you," I repeat confidently.

He smiles and kisses me.