It felt good to sit down on the overstuffed couch and watch the fire. Comfortable bed shorts and tank top, her feet curled up underneath her, a cup of hot tea, the sound of the shower running in the background, a few deep breaths, and she was lost in thought. Booth. Every thought came back to Booth. Which she found both invigorating and terrifying. She could still feel the force of his body pressed up against hers, solid, strong, unyielding. The memory of his breath on her skin. His calloused hands against her soft smooth skin. The power and tenderness of his touch. It stirred in her a raging desire that would not be denied.
Booth stopped short at the sight of her. Letting the towel he was rubbing his hair dry with fall limp in his hand. Leaning back against the open doorway to the bathroom he watched her. Warm flames from the fireplace created an ethereal glow around her as she held her teacup with both hands up close to her lips. She would breathe out across the surface of the cup several times before taking a little sip. She was predictable in the most beautiful ways. This, between them, was getting harder and harder. His feelings for her, holding them in, rationalizing them, dismissing them, nothing worked anymore. Work, he reminded himself, we're here to work. He shook it all off, forcing it away.
"Hey." Booth set his note cards and pen on the coffee table and settled on the other end of the couch. "So you ready to get down to business, Bones?" One long deep sigh and she uncurled herself.
"Yes."
"Personally, I think good ol' Frank needs to go straight to the top of the list."
"I was thinking about that while you were in the shower, Booth. I believe Frank was just doing his job. In a finer establishment like this one he stands to make significantly more in tips than his regular salary by giving special attention to those he serves."
"Nope." Booth paused to reconsider her explanation of the quirky attendant's behavior. "Not buyin' it, Bones. My gut says there's something off about him. And he's in the perfect position. He's got access to everyone's room. Three different ladies. Three different time frames. Same M.O., right?"
"Yes, same weapon, same drugs, same form of disposal."
"I mean, I wouldn't rule out a guest but an employee makes more sense. Who ever it was had to be here for each of those disappearances."
"True. An employee would have better access. Maybe Angela can create an algorithm that will enable us to know which employees and patrons were here during all of the disappearances and their corresponding dates. It could narrow the field."
"Excellent idea, Bones." Leaning forward Booth grabbed his note cards and pen and started scribbling.
"The women are quite territorial." She jumped in while he was still writing on his note cards. Her eyes sparked in amusement as she told Booth her observations. "Some of them have been coming here for years with their respective lovers and appeared to be quite knowledgeable with regard to the nature and personality of various women. They congregated into smaller subgroups in the ladies room on and off throughout the evening. I have no proof that their meetings were intentional but they did seem orchestrated and purposeful. Exchanging information and details, they are very aggressive in their portrayals of other couples, especially other females."
"Sounds like one of those nature shows Parker loves where the lion eats the natives."
"Though not a very common way to die it does happen. Roughly seventy people a year are killed by lions. In this case it would be lionesses, not lions." She laughed, amused by her zoomorphic portrayal of the female guests as lionesses. "I believe the alpha female is named Marilyn and she's here with someone named John." Booth smiled.
"That's not her real name, Bones." Bones looked confused. "Marilyn Monroe? JFK? Ring any bells? No?" He could see the answer clearly in her blank expression. "Like we're not really Bogart and Bacall."
"Ah." Brennan often found her own ignorance to cultural references frustrating and was anxious to move on. "She invited me to join her at the spa tomorrow." Bones smiled broadly knowing the invitation was significant.
"That's great." Booth was scribbling on his note cards and she couldn't resist the urge to lean over and see what he was writing.
Every one of his senses snapped to high alert as her body pressed up against his and she leaned across him. Her clean freshly showered scent. Her body warm, pliable. Her hair, still damp from her shower tickled and teased as it dragged along his arm. Overwhelmed by her proximity he found himself stifling his own deep guttural reaction by swallowing hard against the tension in his throat.
"Bones." He was sure it came out as a whimpering plea.
"Hmmm?" Turning to answer left their faces close. There was no space between them.
"I can't...um...write." She pulled back a little and smiled.
"What about the men?" One thing she knew about Booth, he would never cheat or be unfaithful to anyone he was dating and had no respect for those who did. These men weren't honorable or loyal to their spouses. To one degree or another they were all on his list of suspects.
"Not much. A lot of posturing and dick measuring. While you're off doing your girlie spa thing I think I'll hit the golf course."
"What about your friend? How are you going to keep your cover?"
"I have an idea how to fix that actually. If you're game I'll run it by Hacker in the morning." She let herself fall back against the couch rolling her head to the side so she could see Booth. She was beautiful. The fire danced in her eyes and all he wanted to do was lay her down on this couch and kiss every inch of her body. Clearing his throat Booth continued. "Okay, so rather than pretend we're totally different people, which we can't really do because of Don, we could be us." She looked confused. "We could say that we're together...romantically…like an actual couple."
"But we aren't." His eyes searched hers. Stormy and unsettled, he swore there was a painful longing in them. "The FBI won't allow it." She reminded him.
"Exactly." Forcing a sense of triumph he glossed over how close this ruse would be to the real life he wanted. The one he hoped she wanted also. "The FBI won't allow it so we have to sneak around. See? Right? We could say that we heard about this place and it sounded perfect. We could come here and relax and be together and no one would know." She looked hesitant. "It'll work, trust me. Hacker and Cullen will sign off on it and then if Don goes to them and says anything about seeing us here they can tell him it was just our cover."
He was very satisfied with his idea. Lifting his arm up he stretched it out across the back of the couch. She didn't answer or acknowledge his plan with anything more than murmured approval. Her mind immediately wandered off to consider what that reality might be like for them. Secret lovers sneaking off for a weekend away from the suspicious eyes of their friends and colleagues. The flames jumped and flickered in the fireplace as she settled into Booth's side with her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. It would be so easy, so natural to turn and kiss her forehead, to let his arm fall from the back of the couch, to let his hand wander along her side. But it would change everything between them and the risk of that change seemed far too dangerous until he was sure she wanted it too.
"Bones." He whispered softly against her forehead. Testing his own ability to resist temptation. "We should probably get some sleep." A disgruntled protest was all Booth got as his sleepy partner wiggled herself in closer. "Bones, baby, it's bedtime." It was a slip of the tongue and Booth held his breath waiting for her disapproval of the endearment to rain down upon him.
"Shhh." Her hand came up instinctively to rub away the tickle of his breath on her skin connecting first with the stubble on his face. Rough, bristly, scruff startled her awake. Jumping, she apologized profusely. "Booth, I'm...I didn't mean to...I'm sorry-" He cut off her apologetic rant with reassurance and his warm smile.
Note cards and pens were safely tucked away. Tumblers and teacups set aside. When there was nothing left to put in order they found themselves standing on opposite sides of the big king sized bed staring it down, exchanging glances, fidgeting with sheets and blankets, stalling. They were both adults and capable of sharing one king sized bed they reminded each other. After all, they shared a much smaller bed while undercover in the circus. They managed that. They would manage this.
"Mistletoe, right?"
"Totally sexless."
And yet they hesitated before awkwardly slipping in between the sheets on opposite edges of the bed.
"Goodnight, Booth." Her voice was tender as she rolled over, facing away from him.
"Night, Bones." He echoed into the darkness as he also turned away.
Awkward silence prevailed along with jerked movements and deep sighs of frustration until Booth rolled over onto his back. Stretching his arms up, lacing his fingers together beneath his head, he offered his confession.
"I can't sleep." It was a surrender. He rolled his head sideways towards her. She was already turning over to face him.
"Neither can I." Letting out a long sigh she tucked her hands under her pillow up by her cheek. Wiggling as she tried to settle.
Streams of moonlight cut through the darkness peeking through gaps in the heavy drapes. Staring at each other in that dim light they laughed nervously at their own stiffness. She was beautiful in the moonlight and he smiled as she rattled off facts about the physicality of sleep cycles and dreams and rest, none of which he foresaw happening in the near future. Booth listened intently rolling his whole body to face her.
"The notion of catching up on sleep is actually a misnomer. Studies have proven one cannot catch up on sleep. Sleep lost is just that."
"That's a little depressing, Bones." His eyes caught hers in the moonlight stopping her momentarily before she gave him a slight nod and continued.
"While a lack of sleep can influence depression I assume that isn't what you're implying." A twitch of her lips, a slight nervous smile, a deep breath, things were different between them, this was different. For the first time he saw it in her eyes, it wasn't wishful thinking, it wasn't his imagination or some kind of blind hope. It was there, tangible, real. Which made resisting it nearly impossible.
"Pops asked about you the other day, wants to know when you're comin' to visit him." An abrupt change of subject brought with it a quizzical look from his partner. His mind had travelled from sleep, to this change between them, to Pops hounding him about his relationship with Bones, to the old man's not so slick way of trying to push the two together.
"How's he doing?" She scooted a little closer towards the center of the bed, a little closer towards Booth.
"Good." She watched the worry in his eyes as he answered. "He seems happy. Happier I guess than before but, you know, maybe he just decided he liked it better there than he thought he did." Booth adjusted his position just a bit so he could see her better. "He has a lot of friends there."
"I know." Chuckling at her own mischievousness as she continued. "He told me all about his crocheting buddies."
"Bones." Booth was genuinely horrified.
"Age does not negate sexual need or desire, Booth." Still trying to squelch his own sexual desires as he lay in bed with the very object of his affection he didn't want to think about sex at all. Though thinking of his pops "crocheting" certainly dampened the mood.
"Bones." It came out just a little louder and higher pitched, a cross between begging and whining. She absolutely delighted in his obvious discomfort on the subject. Her victory, however, was short lived. "I am sure you don't want to be thinking about your grandparents...crocheting." He threw back, surprised when she suddenly turned somber.
"If I had grandparents I am sure I would not be bothered by their interest in sexual encounters, it is, and should be, a natural and healthy part of the human experience." It was classic Bones from the way she said it to the casualness with which she mentioned her lack of family.
"If?" A definite move this time, he came much closer, close enough for her to see both confusion and concern in his eyes.
"I never knew my grandparents, Booth. Max says he really only considered my mother's parents family and it was too risky to visit once he took our family on the run." Even as she said it her mind flipped back through years of conversations. He watched as her whole body cringed at the realization.
When they were first partners, early on, they worked a case that involved a couple of foster kids. Booth was a great investigator, better than she anticipated. She never volunteered the information but in the process of the case he figured out she was in the foster system herself as a teenager. When it was all over he called her on it, apologized for not knowing, for assuming she had no personal frame of reference for her brash statements and insistent demands in defense of those brothers.
She told him she was only in the system until her grandfather got her out. It was a subject she avoided, her time as a foster child rarely came up and when it did he always respected her desire not to talk about it. Having never corrected the lie, she felt suddenly guilty.
"I lied, I lied about my grandfather getting me out."
"No, don't, it's okay, Bones. You were...we were new, you know, as partners and you're a very private person." As much as she withdrew before she felt pulled back in by his kindness and understanding. Drawn to scoot just a little closer to Booth in full acceptance of the comfort he offered her she moved once more towards the center of the bed.
"I just...I didn't...I -"
"I get it."
"I just couldn't..." Her voice trailed off as she felt his finger run along the edges of a small scar on her upper arm. She found herself breathless, mindless in the wake of his gentle touch.
This last little move put her right into the faint stream of moonlight. Illuminating the small scar close to her shoulder where Gormogon's teeth as shrapnel were imbedded in her skin. "We sure have been through a lot since then, haven't we?" Booth's voice was soft, almost absent, as he spoke letting his fingers continue to trace the scar.
"Yes." Her voice thready. Booth watched with interest the heavy rise and fall of her chest. "We have." She barely breathed out.
Letting his hand travel down her arm to her hands he fiddled with her fingers until he found what he knew was her grandmother's ring. She wore it religiously ever since her father gave it to her. It was one of the only physical connections to family she owned.
As he let his fingers brush over her ring and her long graceful fingers he started to talk, to tell her stories of his childhood, of his life with his grandparents. Through the soft even strokes of his fingers and the warm deep timbre of his voice she couldn't help but feel lulled, cradled in the simplest most innocent way. He carried her away among sleepy visions of a young Booth learning to cook pancakes standing on a chair at his grandmother's hip. Watching her knit him colorful striped socks. Tucked under the sink with Pops learning to fix the plumbing. Booth was a man built on memories. Personal history and interactions were everything to him.
Her heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly as she drifted along the edge of a deep and peaceful sleep amid thoughts of their memories together. Booth and her fixing his plumbing earlier in the year. Mumbling, barely conscious, she curled in even closer. His hand hovered protectively over hers that night, like it did now, completely enveloping it as they waited for the purple glue holding the pipes together to dry. Their brief moment of triumph, the spray of water when the seal broke, his laughter. Even in a sleepy haze her mind made connections at an alarming rate.
"I'm so sorry, Booth." It wasn't losing his memory of how to fix the plumbing that bothered him, she realized. It was losing something his grandfather taught him.
"What for?" He whispered back but she was already gone, too asleep to answer. He smiled at their hands locked together, intertwined fingers, tucked up between their bodies. Leaning in he kissed her fingers lightly before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
ooooo0ooooo
A/N Thank you so much for reading and for all the wonderful reviews and encouragements! The response has been humbling!
It is one crazy month here in my life. In the first week of June we have an 8th grader graduating, a daughter graduating from high school, another daughter turning 20 and another daughter getting married. HOWEVER...I became obsessed with this story last week and already have the next chapter written! I'm pretty excited about that and I have it on good authority that the chapter doesn't suck!
In case you're wondering where the the title of this story comes from it goes back to season 3 episode 9 The Santa in the Slush and a conversation in the diner between Sweets, Brennan and Booth. As they're talking to Sweets about the mistletoe kiss Booth says "it was mistletoe" to which Bones adds "totally sexless" - it's a wonderful interaction and the inspiration for this story.
Thank you craftyjhawk and snowybones for all the feedback and editing 3
Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think of this little chapter
~DG