CHAPTER 4

Booth and Brennan stumbled through Brennan's apartment door and immediately, she attempted to flee his grasp. Swinging the evening bag she had held during the ceremony, she staggered to the couch and collapsed into it, her eyes shutting on contact with the cushiony surface. Booth held her shoes, which he had made her take off in the car after a 5 minute conversation on the lack of comfort vs. the fashionable benefits to 3 inch heels. Booth watched her for a moment, standing close to the kitchen, trying to figure out exactly what to do about the situation. She had taken her hair down in the car after complaining about the bobby pins "boring holes in her skull." Her hair was now a mess atop her head with curls sticking out in every direction. Booth actually thought it was quite cute. He felt that he shouldn't leave her alone in her condition, worried that she would get sick in the middle of the night and not remember how she had gotten back to her apartment. He didn't have to wait very long before his worry became reality.

A few moments later, Brennan darted off of the couch and made a rather wobbly beeline for the bathroom, dropping her purse on the floor as she flew across the room. She went directly to the toilet and threw up, wincing in pain as she fell on her knees.

Booth dropped her shoes on the floor and followed her to the bathroom. He wanted to make sure she didn't have alcohol poisoning, which was unlikely, but it did give him an excuse to stay with her.

As he reached the bathroom, he leaned down to rub her back. She flinched at his touch.

"Booth…no," she attempted to say as she heaved.

"Bones, you're sick. I want to help," he told her, reaching over to the sink and grabbing a washcloth, which he ran under cold water.

After a few moments, Brennan flushed the toilet and fell against the shower door, clutching her knee, which was still bleeding.

"I'm a mess, Booth. Just…leave me alone," Brennan said, icily. Her sanity was beginning to creep back into her consciousness as she tried to remember exactly what she had actually done and said to Booth. She leaned her head in her hands as Booth stepped towards her and leaned down on one knee.

"I'm not leaving you. Here, this will help," he said as he placed the cold washcloth on her forehead.

She grimaced and attempted to swat his hand away, but once her hand fell on his, electricity pulsed through her and she allowed him to press the cloth against her hot forehead. She closed her eyes and tilted her head against the shower door, sighing in the process.

Booth pressed gently on her forehead as he watched her. He kicked himself inside for not throwing her fourth drink across the banquet hall. Sure, he would have had to put up with a verbal beating, but at least she wouldn't be feeling the way she did now. He smiled softly at her, but she didn't see and he didn't care. After another few moments, he glanced down at her knee.

"Bones, can you hold this?" he asked, indicating the washcloth. "I'm going to clean up your knee. Do you have hydrogen peroxide? Band-aids?" he inquired as her hand took over washcloth duty.

She squinted her eyes and pointed towards the sink. "Medicine cabinet," she replied.

Booth opened the cabinet and searched as Brennan attempted to get up, but failed as her hand slipped off of the toilet. She groaned.

"Bones, hey, don't try to get up, okay?" Booth said as he reached down to help her.

"I'm not comfortable, Booth. I want bed," Brennan replied, her eyes fluttering and her mouth wearing the biggest pout Booth had ever seen.

"Okay, alright. But let me help you," Booth said as he reached down and wrapped his arms around her upper torso, lifting gently as she grasped onto his shoulders. She teetered slightly as she stood, but he caught her and supported her. "Okay, here we go," he said as they wobbled slowly across the living room and to the bedroom.

Their bodies glued together, Booth could not help but take in the lovely aroma that emanated from Brennan's body. Maybe it was her shampoo or perhaps she had worn perfume Nah, not Bones Booth thought as his mind returned to the task at hand…getting her to bed.

As they reached the bed, Brennan turned to him. "Booth?" she asked, a wrinkle in her brow.

"Yeah?" he inquired, looking into her eyes.

"Are we in my apartment?" she asked him with a look of sheer and utter confusion blanketing her face. She literally had no idea what the answer was. Booth could not hold back a soft smile. Through the 6…or 8 drinks, the tongue kiss comment, and the throwing up, Booth still thought Brennan was even more adorable than ever.

"Yes, we are," he replied, still smiling. "And here is your bed," he said as he turned her body towards it.

"Bed. Good," she replied as she fell from his arms and onto the sheets, which were quite unkempt.

Booth was a bit startled, but thankful that she was in bed at last…the only problem was that she was still in her bridesmaid's dress.

"Uh, Bones? Do you have pajamas…or something you want to wear to sleep in?" he asked her, nervously, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

She looked up at him. "I'm not IN my pajamas?" she asked, once again, quite confused.

Booth laughed out loud. "Uh, no, you're in your bridesmaid's dress," he replied, his mind returning to the adorability of his partner.

"Really?" she replied as one eye fluttered open and glanced down her body while the other remained shut.

Booth waited a moment and after she didn't say anything, he decided he should try to resolve the problem. "Do you want to change?" he asked, a furrow in his brow as he didn't quite know how to get her out of the dress and into pajamas.

Brennan pondered the question for a while, leaning up on her elbows as her brow furrowed as well.

"Bones?" Booth asked when she hadn't answered yet.

"What?" she asked a second before comprehension set in. "Right, pajamas…yeah. In the second drawer…over there," Brennan replied as she swung her hand in all directions.

Booth wrinkled his face, attempting to follow Brennan's finger in the air. He was relieved when he realized that there was only one chest of drawers. He walked to it and opened the second drawer. The first things to catch his eye were her array of undergarments, which ranged from a white lace bra to a single neon pink lace nightie. Feeling as though he were invading her privacy, he quickly searched for something less risqué and slightly more comfortable for her to wear. In the right corner of the drawer, he found a silky light blue nightgown that appeared to be ankle length.

"Okay, got your pajamas. So…here you go," Booth said as he placed the nightgown on top of Brennan. "I'll go get the hydrogen peroxide," he said as he began to leave the room.

Brennan shifted in bed, propping herself up and reaching her arms around her back in an attempt to grab hold of the zipper. She tried again and failed. A soft whine escaped her lips and she began to pout.

As Booth was not out of the room yet, he turned to see what the problem was. "Bones, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Zipper. Can you get it?" she asked, looking at him through blurry eyes as she leaned her head back against the headboard as though it had taken all of her strength to try to grab the zipper.

Booth hesitated a moment, but realized that he was going to have to unzip the dress for her to get out of it. He walked to the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders, lifting her forward slightly so he could reach the back of the dress. He leaned his head closer into hers so he could see. The first thing he did was rip the bow off. That thing had been bugging him all night.

His right hand gripped her shoulders and she sighed, smiling softly at his touch as her body warmed. She felt his left hand on her back as he slid the zipper down. He was so warm. In her alcoholic haze, she could feel the energy that was pulsing through their bodies. It was almost magnetic as she felt the urge to be near him.

His breath caught in his throat as her hand took his and squeezed. She turned to him and their eyes connected. He could see the warmth in her sparkling eyes and he could feel the heat from her body and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss her. He looked intently at her, his heart racing, and it took all of his will power to pull his eyes away from hers. He straightened his stance and stepped away from the bed, placing her hand gently on her own stomach.

"Your knee. I'll get the stuff," Booth said as he turned from the bed.

"Booth," she called after him, her eyes glistening as she turned to him.

He turned back to her. "Bones, look, I don't want you to do anything you're going to hate yourself for later," he said bluntly.

She looked at him, wanting so much to just break down all of the barriers and forget about the consequences. It wasn't rational and she was well aware of that, but she didn't care. In this moment, all she wanted was to be with him and be loved by him.

"I won't hate myself. It's my choice. I know I might not be the best at instincts, but I feel like you want to…be with me, too," Brennan confessed, a tear trickling down her cheek. She searched his face for an answer.

Booth hesitated for a long few moments. She had never been more accurate about her instincts, but he did not want her to regret it and he most definitely did not want to make love to her with 6…or 8 drinks controlling that huge brain of hers.

"No, Bones…I don't want to," he finally replied, lying through his teeth. But he knew it was the only way that he was going to get her to back down at this point. He could see the fire in her eyes snuffed out as he spoke the words. The look on her face changed from sheer desire to hurt.

She pulled the straps to her dress back up on her shoulders and brushed the tear from her cheek, not wanting Booth to see her half-naked. Her eyes darted away. "Okay, well…I guess my instincts are wrong…again," she said, a painful tone in her voice.

He wanted to take it back and tell her he had been lying and that she was, in fact, the only thing that he wanted. But he knew he couldn't. So, he started for the door again.

"I'll get the hydrogen peroxide," he said as he exited, leaving Brennan sitting on her bed, clutching to her dress, and staring straight ahead at nothing.