Author's Note: Okay, so this isn't what I really set out to right tonight. I don't mean that I changed directions, merely that I intended to sit down and write for other purposes entirely and ended up working on this. Somehow, I didn't think you all would mind.
I will say this chapter took on a different tone than I had in mind and that's solely due to the music I decided to play while writing. I'd originally intended to write while listening to the classic rock I imagine Booth would have playing in the car. Instead I clicked on my "Sexy Sounding Music" play list and…voila.
Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or added this story to alerts or favorites so far. If I haven't replied personally please don't think I didn't read and appreciate every word. Thanks to those of you who have been kind enough to point out my typos as I've been without a beta – while the mistakes aren't getting corrected here at they are getting corrected in the original document for later publication on my website.
~Amara D'Angeli
At eleven thirty Brennan took a surreptitious glance at her watch. Angela and Sweets were still living it up out on the dance floor and Cam and Hodgins had just ordered another round. Booth had been nursing the last inch of beer in his bottle for about ten minutes.
"Ready to call it a night, Bones?" He had leaned slightly closer to her to be heard over the music that had been steadily increasing in volume as the night wore on.
She nodded. "Yes. However, Angela's my ride home."
He pushed back from the table. "Come on, then. I'll drive you."
She gave him a grateful look. "Thank you. That would be nice." She turned to Hodgins and Cam and bid them good night. Booth gave them a smile and half a wave before standing and offering Brennan a hand up. He waited while she collected her purse and light coat then let her walk a half step ahead of him before his hand fell to its usual spot at the small of her back.
Her skin tingled beneath the weight and warmth of his hand – warmth that was only tempered by the thin layer of cotton that separated him from her. She chalked it up to the alcohol, gave her head a tiny, clearing shake and the proceeded towards the front door. As she passed the dance floor Angela gave her a big grin and a hearty wave and then turned back to Sweets who was dancing rather strangely to the rhythmic thumping of the urban music.
At his SUV he opened and held her door until she was safely belted inside. As she waited for him to pull into traffic she regarded what she could see of the city. The monuments that were visible were all lit up and the skyline took on a curious candle-lit sort of glow. It was…rather pretty, and she found herself surprised that she'd never really thought of it that way before.
She studied his profile as he glanced back and forth between the rear and side view mirrors waiting for his chance to merge with traffic. He was, she noted objectively, and not for the first time, a very handsome man. Well structured, as she'd allow to pass through her lips when talking to or about him. But inside her head she could use subjective words like "handsome" without fear of judgment. Or, for that matter, without fear of loss of hearing resulting from one of Angela's girlish squeals of delight.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," Booth mused aloud.
She realized she'd been lost in thought so long he'd set them on a path toward her building and she'd missed nearly eight blocks of the trip.
"I'm glad you were able to join us," she said rather than admit she'd been lost in thought. Though, she wasn't sure why admitting such a thing would be bad. She imagined the way she was feeling right then was what Angela would describe as "off-kilter".
Something soft and sexy was drifting out of the stereo speakers. She decided that with the alcohol coursing through her system it probably wasn't a good idea to embrace the soft and sexy feeling and started to reach for the volume knob.
Booth smacked the back of her hand lightly, "My car, my music." He was grinning, though, so she figured she hadn't offended him.
"That's fine. Just remember that the next time you come to my apartment and try to turn off my African tribal dancing music."
"That's not music, Bones, that's people shouting and beating drums."
"Well, I like it." But she didn't like the petulant little tone that slipped out when she said it. She sat quietly for a couple of minutes. "Booth, why don't you like it when people call you Seeley?"
He chuckled and she supposed it was because her question took him as much by surprise as it had her. She meant to ask him what "I love you…in a professional, atta-girl kind of way" meant. Then she figured that perhaps her brain knew better than her mouth when it came to talking to him after the alcohol and while the soft and sexy music was playing. "It's not that I dislike it, necessarily. But I joined the military when I was 18, after that at the FBI, I guess I'm just used to "Booth". People have been calling me "Booth" just as long as they called me "Seeley"."
"So, it's a professional thing, then?"
He seemed to consider that for a moment. "I guess so. Why?"
"Well, Rebecca and Cam both call you "Seeley". It seemed reasonable to deduce that was one of the ways you separated your personal life from your professional life."
"I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess you're right." They stopped at a red light and he looked over at her. His skin glowed crimson in the illumination of the traffic signal. "What's this about, Bones?"
"People call me "Dr. Brennan". Or, sometimes, "Bren". My dad and Russ call me "Tempe". But I never drew those lines – others did. It's a sign of respect in academia to address people using their titles. And then you, of course, call me "Bones". I don't mind that anymore." She felt her brow knit.
The light changed and he pressed on the gas pedal. "Yes." He drew the word out as if waiting for her come to her point.
"Anthropologically speaking, the naming of people is very important. But often throughout our lives we're given monikers we don't especially like or don't like the connotation in which they are used."
"Mhmm." He glanced over at her. "Are you trying to say you'd rather call me "Seeley"?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. It sounds strange when I say it, doesn't it?" She tried it out. "Seeley." She paused then said it again letting the "S" linger on her tongue. "Seeley." Then, again letting her tongue rest lightly on the "L". "Seeley."
He chuckled and the sound was a little uncomfortable.
"What?"
"It doesn't sound strange when you say it." His voice was a little gruff.
She peeked over at him and saw a strange look flit across his features. She shrugged. "It's a nice name." She thought it would be an especially nice sounding name to say casually. Or, possibly, sexually. She let it bounce around in her head as a breathy moan then colored a slight pink when she wondered where the hell that thought came from. Damn alcohol and soft and sexy music.
Then somewhere along the way her brain disconnected from her mouth. "In certain situations it would sound much better than "Booth". In bed, for instance. I can't imagine someone calling you "Booth" in the throes of passion."
He coughed and shifted in his seat. "No one's ever called me "Booth" in bed, Bones."
"Sully used to call me "Tempe" in bed. It never sounded quite right. It was quite the mood killer."
He laughed outright at that. "What did he say when you told him that?"
"Oh, I never told him. I think he would have been offended."
"Since when do you worry about offending people?"
"Booth! I don't intentionally offend people."
"So what would you rather he'd have called you in bed? Temperance?"
"Well, not in that tone of voice, no. But, maybe. It's not a very sexy name, is it?" She tried it out in much the same way she had his. She tried it soft, low and slow. She tried hitting each syllable hard and with determination. But nothing sounded quite right. Then she shook her head. "There's not much hope for a name that means "self control"."
He laughed again. "You ever heard the saying, "it's not what you say but how you say it"? That probably applies here."
"It's possible."
He cleared his throat. "Any particular reason we're talking about the way our names sound in bed?"
"I think I got sidetracked."
"I think what you got was one too many drinks tonight."
"Also possible."
The car came to a stop and she looked over to realize they were parked in front of her building. "This is the end of the line, Bones. Want me to walk you up?"
She gave him a scoffing sort of look. "I'm fairly certain I can get inside my apartment without assistance." She started to climb out of the car but turned back to him when one of her high-heeled feet was on the pavement. "But, thank you."
He gave her a soft smile. "You're welcome. Good night, Temperance." He winked as she pushed the door closed. She found that her hand was still raised in a wave and her answering smile was still tugging at her lips long after he'd merged back into the flow of traffic.
Author's Note: Oh, and one more thing…There are parts of this chapter where even I wish we'd had Booth's perspective. I'll be really surprised if some of you don't feel the same. :)
