Packing was the easy part. It rained nine months of the year in Seattle. The trouble he ran into was at the airport. Much to his frustration FBI agents, even special ones, did not get special treatment. No, he had to wait in line with everyone else.
The woman at the counter was in her early thirties, light brown hair, a little too much mascara where it made a thick, goopy mess out of your lashes and acrylic nails. Booth mused if she wasn't trying so hard she would actually be pretty cute.
After some playful flirting he was able to snag a seat for just under four hundred bucks on the next flight out which left in three hours. Good thing he brought a book.
.
.
"So, any plans tonight Ms. Brennan?" Tom asked her from the passenger side. He was chewing a piece of gum as he drank from a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
"None," she replied. "I'd just like to go back to my hotel room and rest if that's all right."
"Your nest appointment isn't until the morning," Holly told her not looking up from her Blackberry. "You have some free time if you would like to sight see or do a little shopping."
Although Brennan really wasn't tired she didn't feel like being followed around the rest of the evening. Some light shopping might be nice, a gift for Angela and Parker, a tie for Booth perhaps.
"Some shopping, maybe a light dinner might be nice," she said changing her mind.
"Of course," Holly said. "Anywhere in particular?"
"I'm not really familiar with the city," she explained.
"No problem." She leaned forward and gave the driver an address. "He's going to drop me off then take you to a shopping center not far from here. It's mostly upscale, nice stuff and it's in a nice part of town so you shouldn't be bothered. There are also several nice restaurants there as well." Holly smiled at her genuinely hoping for an invite for some shopping and dinner but Brennan just smiled back then turned her head back to look out the window. She didn't think Holly wasn't nice, she was, but Brennan wasn't very fond of spending time with people she didn't know.
.
A few hours later she was toting several shopping bags into a small Italian restaurant. The lights were dim and cliché music was playing softly in the background. It was the type of place Booth would insist on taking her. The best thing you ever tasted Bones, he would tell her. She would agree, mostly because he sulked when she didn't and usually he would be right. The food, as well as the company, would be wonderful.
Not even a day apart and she was already missing him. She scolded herself for being so entangled with the man but he had latched on to every aspect of her life and while normally that would annoy her, she found if safe and comforting. Spending time alone with him strengthened their bond and she felt like she wasn't missing out on so much when they were together. He brought the world to her, even if it was in the form of a Red box movie and box of greasy Thai.
Her waiter was a short, older man whose wife ran the kitchen. The Italian stigma was everyone knew someone in the mafia but this man looked like he couldn't harm a fly without crying. He brought her wine and bread, pasta and meatballs which he insisted she at least try. She finally gave in; they were indeed delicious; Booth would have devoured them all. After was an espresso and conversation with the man and his wife. They are shortbread cookies from a tin; secretly her favorite sugar item and had been since she was three and exchanged stories of East and West coast. At shortly after eleven she bid them good night and went to find her driver. He and her security were sound asleep in the front seat. She was surprised he didn't suck that tooth pick back as he snored and killed himself. Waking the both of them made them grumpy and they silently took her back and dropped her at the curb of her hotel, neither wishing her a good night.
.
"Finally," she said dumping her shopping contents on the floor and shedding her coat and purse on the sofa table. She toed her shoes where she stood and began stripping for a hot bath, glass of wine, then bed.
"Evenin' Bones." The voice came out of nowhere and she shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked when she could finally catch her breath. She stood in front of him where he was stretched out on the bed looking like he owned the place.
"Nice bra," he said, cocky as ever.
"Thanks," she said coolly. "How did you get into my room?"
"Slipped the guy at the desk a fifty, told him I was your boyfriend," he said. "Didn't even have to show any ID." He sat up on the bed. "Where's your detail?"
"He went home for the night," she explained.
"Seriously? That's what you're giving me. Bones I saw the picture you sent Angela. He's what, a hundred?"
"Booth, he's fine. You worry too much. Nothing has happened to even possibly think I am in any harm. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a bath then go to bed." She took some toiletry items and clothes into the bathroom.
"Booth?" she called from the room and it echoed against the tiles.
"Hmm?" he replied still on the bed.
She reappeared with a confused look. "Your stuff is in my bathroom."
"I know."
She retreated back to the bedroom. "Let me clarify. Why is your stuff in my bathroom?"
"I'm staying," he said with a huge grin.
"Says who?"
"Says me. You can not be traveling all over the country with a man three times your age expecting him to run down criminals Bones. Get real. I'm here to offer my services."
"First of all, I don't need your services. Second, Tom in fine. I haven't seen him run but I have seen him blow phlegm from his nose quite far."
Booth got off the bed so he could be eye to eye with her. "Bones the only way that man is running anybody down is with a Jazzy scooter. What happens if you get mugged, hmmm? Or worse. Why can't you take this seriously?"
"I do, you're the one who makes it a national security issue. Let's face it Booth, I'm not on the top of anyone's hit list." She was still standing in her bra and jeans, hands on her hips, staring him down.
"Bones, I'm not backing down on this. You let me come along. I won't be in the way, I promise, but you need to keep your security at the forefront of your mind. Didn't you ever see The Body Guard?"
"The what?"
"Apparently not. She didn't think she needed protection either until her sister hired a psycho to kill her."
"I don't have a sister," she deadpanned.
"Bones work with me here. Trust me on this. When you get to a bigger setting like California you're going to want me between you and the blue haired weirdoes trying to get to you."
"Fine," she relented. "You can stay, but not here."
He gave her a confused look. "Why not?"
"Why not? This is my room Booth. My private room. I'm not sharing my private room with a man who wears boxer shorts with cartoon characters on them. Besides that, you are sweating just seeing me in a bra. What happens if I walk around naked?"
"Do you walk around naked?" he asked skeptically. He was sure he'd be hip to that knowledge if it existed.
"…no, but I could," she said.
"Exactly. I'm staying put. I'll sleep on the couch if it works out better. Once we get to California we can figure things out then." He strolled confidently back to the living area and flipped on the TV.
"This room got pay per view?" All he got in terms of an answer was a slam of the bathroom door.
It was a short time later Booth felt her slide down next to him on the couch dressed in a Northwestern sweatshirt and matching sweats, her hair in a messy bun and her face scrubbed clean of her day. She didn't say anything but sat close, as if waiting him out to break the silent barrier between them.
"How was your day?" he asked her. "I heard you on the radio, it was good."
She nodded picking at her cuticle. "Why are you really here?"
Well that didn't take long.
"I told you Bones, your security means a lot to me and in my experience if you want something done right you might as well just do it yourself." He stretched out further kicking his sock feet onto the coffee table. The bright blue and orange stripes made her smile to herself.
"Booth I'm fine," she repeated. Wasn't she sick of saying that by now?
"Let me ask you something Bones." He muted the TV. "When you first arrived did Officer Older than Time check your room, make sure things were in order?"
"…no, not exactly," she admitted.
"Right. And when you came back this evening after being gone all day did he first sweep the room and make sure it was safe to be in?"
"No." She curled her feet under her and propped her head up with her hand on the arm of the couch.
"Interesting. Did he once after he met you ask if there were any concerns you had for your own safety? Who he should be looking out for? Had you had any previous worries?"
"No," she repeated reluctantly.
"Exactly. And that right there tells me you are not safe. Bones I don't have to remind you that we have been kidnapped, zapped and buried alive. I don't have to tell you there are people who want us dead. I don't have to tell you that there are crazies around every corner. Why do you think none of those things can happen to you again?"
She shrugged, obviously embarrassed by her lack of own personal regard for her safety. She had become so used to Booth's protection that she assumed nothing bad could happen to her again. It was easy to get used to the rose colored glasses if you were never forced to take them off. That was what had happened. He made is so easy for her to be safe she forgot he was the one providing that safety.
"I'm sorry," she offered.
"I don't want you to be sorry Bones; I want you to be safe. That means no late night dinners and coming back at eleven o'clock. No parading around town without someone with you. And no eating out without me." He threw in the last part with a charming smile. "I don't want you scared Bones, I want you aware."
"Okay," she relented," I'll do better."
"Thank you." He kissed the palm of her hand and placed it back in her lap. "So tell me about your trip, what else do you have planned?"
"I have a small thing tomorrow then off to California," she told him settling back down close to him. "Do you like California?"
"Ehh, it's all right," he said. "I like the sun but the people give me the creeps. I guess I'm too conservative. What about you?" He offered her a drink of the beer he had brought back to the room with him. She took a drink then gave it back.
"I like it I guess. North California better though. I love the Redwoods." A small grouping of hair fell from her crown and she tucked them behind her ear. "I like the travel; I just hate the commitment to travel." She thought her words over. "Does that make sense?"
"You mean you like to go at your own pace, unlike now when you are totally committed," he simplified.
"Exactly." She stretched out to match him leaning her head on his shoulder. "What are you watching?"
"Nothing really." He offered her the remote but she shook her head. "You tired?"
"Sort of, but I don't have any early commitments. You?"
"Where you go, I follow," he teased.
"Booth I know you are doing this to protect me but don't you think you're going to be incredibly bored?"
"Not at all," he reasoned. "I love hanging out and spending time with you Bones. I was bored at home, now I get to see the other side of your work. I'm actually pretty excited about it." The smile he gave her was bright and charming and per usual, it worked.
"Fine," she relented," but I don't want to hear you complaining when you become bored and want to go home."
"Not going to happen," he promised her.
Some time later after the TV was turned off and they had prepared for bed, Booth stood in front of the bed inspecting which side would compliment him.
"The sheets feel the same on each side Booth," she teased rubbing lotion onto her elbows and arms.
"Yeah I know…"
"So what's the hold over?" she asked sliding under the covers.
"The term is hold up and it's just that we haven't slept together since you know, the RV."
"And you're afraid you won't be able to sleep without the sound of circus in the background or the smell of mold and bodily fluid in that awful trailer?"
"No, of course not." He slid under the blanket and stretched his body out. "You really don't feel awkward in bed with me?"
"Should I?" she questioned. "You've never given me reason to feel awkward. You've always been kind and courteous towards me."
He nodded. "That's good." He put his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He knew her pajamas were normal for her, low cut and form fitting, but Jesus, how was he supposed to be kind and courteous when all he really wanted to do was make her scream all night long?