Thanks to lovely Some1tookmyname for even more twitter grammar support.
VI. His Head on Her Shoulder
"You need a babysitter again?"
Brennan's eyes widened worriedly.
"Do you think we're leaving her alone too often?"
Angela sashayed into her friend's office, shaking her head.
"Not at all. I'm happy to see that Mommy and Daddy are growing up. I'm just curious."
"Curious?"
"What are you doing with your evening off?"
A sweet smile appeared on Brennan's face.
"Booth and I have to talk."
One perfectly plucked eyebrow arched up.
"Talk? Talk. Sweetie... that's the best you can come up with for your baby-free night?"
"Well..."
Angela sighed deeply.
"Bren... how's your sex life? Everything alright?"
Silent midnight air brushing over her body while he covered her from behind. The soothing movements of a boat. Ancient dust witnessing new heat...
The smile deepened.
"Don't worry, Ange, we're fine. More than fine."
"So..."
"So...?"
"You and Booth are...?"
Angela's hands twisted in some kind of funny gesture and Brennan wrinkled up her nose.
"Is that supposed to stand for intercourse? Because, if so, you should work on it, Angela."
The artist rolled her eyes.
"So you're still doing the horizontal mambo-jambo?"
"Does it have to be horizontal?"
"Brennan."
"Yes?"
"Ah, never mind. Do whatever you want to do."
"So, tonight is okay?"
"Tonight is fine. Michael will be very happy."
"Wonderful. Also, I have one more favor to ask."
"Spill."
-BONES-
"She did what?"
Booth regarded the man in front of him incredulously, but Hodgins simply gestured at the bottle of Balvenie in his hand.
"She was very precise in her instructions."
Leaning back in his chair, Booth loosened his tie with a sigh.
"I bet she was. Look, Hodgins, I had a crappy day. I just wanna go home, hug Bones and put my daughter to bed."
The entomologist shook his head.
"Christine's having a sleepover tonight. As for the hug... I can only guess."
Blue eyes were smirking.
"Where's Bones?"
"Right now? I don't know. But I know where she will be in about two hours. Like I said, very precise instructions."
One more sigh, then:
"Fine. Let's get drunk."
Jack Hodgins plopped onto the chair in front of Booth's desk.
"No 'us'. Just you."
"Forget it, man. You want me to drink? You're drinking with me."
"But I'm supposed to drive you-"
"Cab."
"But she said-"
"I always thought you were a rebel..."
Opening his desk drawer, Booth took out two tumblers. Hodgins uncorked the bottle with an almost reverent expression on his face, filling the glasses.
"I am a rebel, Dude."
"Cheers."
Glasses clinked, and then the alcohol ran down their throats. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. What had she been thinking?
-BONES-
"... and then he slept with the spider in his little fist."
"He slept with it?"
Hodgins nodded with sparkling eyes.
"Angela freaked out, but, man, I was so proud."
"And the spider?"
"Uh, she didn't make it..."
Silence.
"Poor spider..."
"Yeah, poor spider..."
Booth refilled the glasses for the third time.
"To the spider!"
"To the spider."
And they drank.
Two rounds of Scotch later, Booth was warming up to the idea of getting drunk. Maybe, just maybe he was a little bit tipsy already. Or... a little bit more than tipsy. The Whiskey was exquisite, smoky and sweet at the same time, and after a day full of budget meetings, it was nice to drown in something so simple yet beautiful. Brennan wanted to have him drunk, and he would deliver.
He couldn't help but thinking about the last time he had lost himself in a bottle. She had been gone for two weeks, and he had been crazy with missing her and the baby. Everything had been dark, so dark and painful, and her scent on the pillow had begun to fade. Memories had been the only thing keeping him sane; keeping him sane and driving him nuts at the same time. Swallowing hard, Booth reached for his glass anew.
He had found her. She had come back. Her hair was as brown as he had always known it, and those days in disguise were long gone. She was his, every day and every night, only his. Where was she?
"Where's Bones?"
"Lincoln Memorial," came the slurred reply. "Wanna go there?"
"Dunno. You're the one with the instructions."
"Right! Damn it. Yeah, you should totally go there."
Ten minutes later, the cab made its way through the cloudy night. On the back seat next to him, Hodgins was snoring softly, and Booth himself had a hard time focusing on the buildings outside. They were just a little bit blurred, flying by faster than they should. Swallowing hard, he fought against the dizziness; fought against the alcohol in his system, as he thought about another night in a different cab.
The Lincoln Memorial. When had that been? Years ago. Max had been in jail. They had cracked an old case. He had been drunk, completely wasted... just like today. She had been different back then, but she had already been his Bones. His sweet and wonderful Bones.
"Here we are."
"Right."
Some bills, some advice about his wasted friend later, Booth was crossing the vast space. It was chilly, and the place was deserted, but he knew where to go. The impressive monument was illuminated, stony Abraham Lincoln towering on his throne, and on the steps right in front of it, he could spot a lonesome figure.
His heart tightened. It still did that, even after all those years. He would never take it for granted that she was waiting for him, he had just waited for her damn too long.
And she was beautiful... it wasn't just the Scotch of the night or the fact that he had loved her for the better part of their professional relationship, no, it was just her. Her face bare of make-up, her hair in a messy ponytail, a to go cup of coffee sitting next to her.
"Heya."
She gave him her dazzling smile, and he crashed next to her on the steps.
"I see you followed my instructions."
"Hmm... good Scotch, Baby."
She chuckled, shoving the coffee cup into his hands.
"It shouldn't be too hot anymore."
"Why did you make me drunk?"
She kept silent for a few heartbeats, and he took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and lukewarm. How long had she really been waiting?
"Remember that night? Here?" she finally said, and he nodded. They had been sitting right here, she and him and the coffee cup. His head on her shoulder.
"Yeah. You wanna have sex here? Honestly, I had a lot of Scotch..."
"I couldn't tell," she smiled. "No, I'm not interested in getting us arrested. This is another kind of fantasy."
"Another kind?"
His dulled brain tried to make sense of her words.
"That night... I didn't expect to see you again. Until I got your text. Booth, why did we meet?"
He shrugged clumsily.
"We always meet after a case. I guess I wanted to see you."
She bumped his shoulder playfully.
"I wanted to see you, too. But... I didn't even know why. And when you arrived, you were barely able to walk. I had never seen you like that before, Booth. You were adorable."
He snorted.
"I am not ado- adorable."
"My perception is mine."
"Potato, patato."
"Booth... that day, I went to see my dad in jail."
"I remember."
"Now he's part of our live. Our daughter has a grandfather. You did that, Booth, you."
He braced on his elbows, his head rolling around.
"No, Bones, you decided to give him another chance."
"You made me. You taught me to reach out to other people, and, that night, I was so... so open. Remember what happened after we left?"
Thinking was a hard thing to do, but he tried to sort his memories.
"You took me home. The next morning, I woke up on my couch with the headache of my life."
"And I woke up with your arms all around me," she blurted out on one single puff of breath.
His head flung around, and nausea was the answer. He swallowed hard.
"You did? Why? How?"
Her fingers brushed his knee.
"You were quite difficult to handle. After I managed to drag you home, you refused to let me go. You were so sweet, Booth. You took my hand," her actions mimicked her story, as she reached for his hand. "Your head fell onto my shoulder... and then I was in your arms, lying on your couch. With you. And you were sleeping."
The real Booth next to her looked visibly upset, as his heavy head found its place on her shoulder.
"I don't remember," he whispered into her shirt, but she calmed him.
"It's okay. You know, I could have left... but I was so warm and relaxed. It was selfish, Booth, but, ever since, that night has been precious to me. I woke up early, and you were sleeping soundly. Had you been awake... I don't know, I was feeling so much. Leaving was hard, but... easier."
"Bones..."
His warm breath tickled her neck in the sweetest way ever, and she tilted her head until her cheek rested on top of his head.
"Emotions... I never trusted them. They are ephemeral, not tangible. You were the first feeling I could allow myself to rely on, Booth. I was safe with you. In every kind of the word. I wanna thank you for that. I already wanted to thank you back then."
Lifting his head, he regarded her in awe; breathless, speechless.
"You know what I wanted to do?" he finally said, and she met his eyes.
"No. What?"
His hand curled around her nape, pulling her down to him, and when his mouth opened under hers, it tasted like coffee and Scotch and him. He tasted just like he would have tasted, and he kissed her like he had wanted to kiss her that night; slowly and thoroughly, lips pressing against each other ever so softly, tongues connecting in the most intimate way. She sighed, and he could feel it in his mouth; could feel the silk of her hair between his fingers, could feel how open her heart was for him. How open it, maybe, had always been.
"Bones," he whispered softly, and she meowed in response.
When they broke the kiss, he gave her that kind of candid smile only the truly drunken ones can muster, gesturing at the monument behind them.
"Good old Abe here... he's solid, Bones, but you... you've always been more solid to me. You're my cornerstone – even when the world is staggering."
She brushed his nose with hers.
"I was right."
"Right?"
"You're adorable."
And he kissed her again; because she was the only thing steady in his unsteady world, because he was allowed to do so, because he was drunk and his brain had no filter, because she was Bones and he had always wanted to kiss her.
Above them, the sky opened, heavy raindrops mingling with the taste of her.
"Noooo."
His brain registered her girlish squeak, and his lips curved up in response.
"It's not supposed to rain," she pouted, and he laughed even harder, his nose nudging her neck.
"You cannot control the weather."
"Still..."
"Bones?"
"Yes?"
"Take me home."
Getting up, she smoothed her wrinkled shirt before outstretching one hand to him. Accepting it gratefully, he tried to stand on wobbly legs.
"Jeez, I'm drunk."
Wrapping her arm around his waist, she supported his weight.
"I'm sorry."
He chuckled.
"Ah, well, Hodgins is even more wasted."
"Hodgins? But I told him to-"
"He's a rebel, Bones. Rebel."
She wrinkled her brow, as she tried to maneuver her partner in the right direction, and he hugged her while walking.
"My Bones. So soft and strong."
"My Booth. So sentimental and heavy..."
By the time they reached the car, both of them were soaked, but only one of them was sober enough to care. Pushing him into to passenger seat was quite a task since he wouldn't stop kissing her, and part of her regretted this trip down memory lane. The other part, however, couldn't help but reminding her how badly she had wanted to kiss him back then; how much she had longed to be close to him. How sweet he was. And had been.
Fastening his seat belt, she brushed some raindrops out of his face, and he looked up at her with big and trustful eyes. Taking her hand, he peppered soft kisses into her palm.
"We're going home now."
"I'm trying."
"Our home, Bones. You and me and the car. Our home. Amazing..."
She couldn't help but smile.
"I know."
"And, tomorrow, you'll still be there. Let me wake up next to you, will you?"
He was looking at her almost pleadingly, and she squeezed his hand.
"I promise."
His eyes closed, and, finally, she circled the car, getting into the driver's seat.
"God, I love you so much, so damn much."
Joy, ridiculous joy spread through her veins.
"I love you, too, Booth. Damn much right back."
His hand found her knee, and he sighed.
"I might be too hammered to make love to you, Baby."
She laughed out.
"I don't care. You and me and the first times we could have had... that's more than just sex, Booth."
His head rolled around and dazed brown eyes flew open.
"I know. Still... the sex is quite amazing."
He above her... under her... all around her. Moving inside of her...
"Yes, it is."
"You know what else is quite amazing?"
"Huh?"
"You..."
And the rain was falling heavily onto their windshield, as the car was set in motion.
He made her stop twice on their way back home; once at a public restroom, the other time to buy a burger in a drive-through. Since getting him inebriated had been her idea, she didn't try to reason with him, but half an hour later, Brennan was truly grateful, as she parked the car in their driveway.
"Booth?"
She poked the silent man next to her with one gentle finger. A grunt was her answer.
"We're home. You have to get up."
"Five more minutes," he slurred, grabbing her hand and curling himself around it.
"Booth," she whispered. "Our bed is just a few feet away."
"Bed..."
"Yes."
"Bones, I'm wet."
"That's because of the rain."
"Are you wet, too?"
"Yes, I am."
Rolling her eyes, she pulled her hand out of his grip, tickling his cheek with her fingertips.
"You're mean", he whined.
"Booth, I really like to get out of my wet clothes."
One eye flew open.
"Out of your clothes?"
Leaning in, she kissed the still-closed eyelid.
"Hm-hmm. You can watch if you want."
"And then?"
She shrugged.
"You're the one who claimed to be too intoxicated for intercourse."
He screwed up his nose, and she hurried to add.
"Love-making. Sex. Horizontal mambo-jambo."
"Mambo-jambo? Bones... Where did you even learn that word?"
Brennan laughed.
"Come on, let's get you inside."
He grumbled incoherently, but, finally, started to move. It was still pelting down, and they stumbled over the doorstep as a tangle of heavy limbs and raindrops. Since he was already in motion, Brennan decided that getting him as close to the bed as possible would be best, and damp footprints were left behind, as they made their way upstairs.
With a deep groan, he fell backwards, collapsing on top of their bedspread, dripping all over it. Bending over him with a smile, she pulled off his shoes. Polka-dotted socks were greeting her, and she removed them as well. His pants were next, and she lowered herself to the mattress beside him. He moaned deep in his chest, as she undid the belt buckle with expert hands.
"Lift your hips," she whispered, and that was one command he would always act on.
The pants had protected his boxers from the rain, but since she was already undressing him and had never done something halfway, she pulled them down his legs as well. His shirt was soaked and wrinkled, and Brennan hurried to open the tiny buttons.
"Can you sit up?"
He wrapped his arms around her neck, allowing her to drag him into a sitting position, and after some struggles, she managed to shed the garment. His skin was damp and cold, goosebumps covering his naked arms. She threw the superfluous shirt away, and he fell back onto the mattress. Heavy-lidded eyes opened in the dim-lit room.
"Your turn," he murmured, and, getting up, she simply pulled the soaked shirt over her head.
Taking a deep breath, he watched her. The fabric of her pale pink bra was sticking to her skin, and he could see the darker shade of her areolas underneath. One blink later, he could plain see her because she had opened the clasp, striping off the bra. Her breasts swayed gently, as she busied herself with the buttons of her jeans, trying to get out of the damp thing, and, shortly after, she was standing in front of him as bare as the night. Regardless of how often he had already seen her like this, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and her own gaze roamed over his exposed body until it met his eyes.
"As are you," she simply answered.
A sweet kind of warmth was glowing inside of her, as she watched him, and she remembered that other night so long ago, feeling bad for her former self. Sleeping in fully-clothed Booth's arms on a couch? Going to bed with naked Booth? No comparison. No comparison at all.
She offered him her hand.
"Come here."
"What? Why?"
"Let's take a shower."
"A shower? Booones, I am already wet."
"You're cold-wet. Let's get you warm-wet."
He grumbled in protest, but took her hand nonetheless, following her on unsteady legs. Since the bright ceiling light hurt his eyes, she lit up a candle, and the flame flickered cozily in the rainy night. Soon, the rich scent of vanilla was filling the air, and under the hot spray, they stood in a tight embrace, getting warm. She was kissing him, his wet shoulder, his full lips, and if his legs hadn't felt so unreliable, he might have pinned her to the wall like the man he was. So he just held her, held her close to his chest, his lips finding rainy lashes and downy cheeks, his whole being focused on her.
They kissed almost lazily, and Booth felt content and safe in a way that reminded him of very early childhood days long before everything had gone so terribly wrong.
Home... it was more than a house, a place to be. It was her.
His head dropped onto her shoulder with a happy sigh, and she stroked his back with soapy hands.
"You wanna go to bed?"
"Yeah."
"Then come."
He was in a drowsy state of bliss, as she dried first him and then herself with the towel; as she blew out the candle and led him to their bedroom.
Their bed was soft and comfortable, and when she crawled into his arms, it was even softer and more comfortable. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her damp curls on his shoulder, and he was pretty sure that his grin stretched to the Mississippi. His palm found the small of her back, fingers drawing lazy patterns, and she hummed languidly.
Her lips landed on his stubbly cheek for a soft kiss.
"This is the best kind of fantasy," she finally murmured sleepily, and he caressed her brow with his mouth.
"Falling asleep?"
"Going home with you."
"Aw, Bones. You are... you are..."
She didn't find out what she was since he was already dozing off, but she didn't really care that much because she could feel everything she was, everything they were right here in this room.
And, so very, very close to him, she followed him to the land of dreams. The good kind of dreams, where nothing did hurt.
-BONES-
Booth awoke to the mild light of dawn tickling his nose. His mouth felt fuzzy somehow and dull headache was knocking at his temples, but the best remedy was lying right in front of him, curled up on her side.
She was using his arm as a pillow, and his eyes followed the curve of her shoulder. Her hair was a mess of curls, dried overnight, and her skin was shimmering so very fair in the early morning light. An onrush of tenderness and love whooshed through his body, centering deep in his belly. It was a sweet kind of all-consuming longing, and, once more, she was the remedy.
Pushing some curls away, he kissed her neck, inhaling the familiar morning scent of her.
"I love you," he told her sleeping form, and she mumbled incoherently.
He moved closer until his whole body was spooning her from behind, one hand splayed out on her belly, and she snuggled into his embrace. His fingers started to move, carefully, and then his thumb reached that triangle of short curls, brushing over it. She sighed in sleep. Getting bolder, he let his fingers travel between her legs, stroking her ever so gently, and, still, she did not stir, but some part of him did.
"Bones," he whispered into her hair, and, finally, her breath pattern changed, and he knew that she was awake.
Turning her around and rolling on top of her happened in one swift move, and unfocused blue eyes were open for him to see.
"Good morning," he smiled, and she spread her legs to accommodate him.
"Booth... Why are you awake?" she murmured drowsily, and he nestled between her thighs.
"I love you," he simply said before pushing into her oh so slowly.
Her eyes glazed over in pleasure, as her mouth opened on a silent cry. Her mind was still foggy, her body pliant and sleepy, and she was helpless against the sudden onslaught of sensations. He stretched her with his whole length, so warm and hard inside of her, and her legs opened for him even further, as her arms clutched his back.
"Booth..."
"Just relax and enjoy," he whispered, and she closed her eyes, as he rocked in and out of her.
Sweet friction was building, heat gathering low in her belly... and his weight on top of her, his movements inside of her, his terms of endearment around her...
It was so much, so very much. And he was everything.
She shattered with a soft cry, pulsating strongly around him, and he watched her; watched her falling apart, watched her coming down. And when she opened her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, they were still drowsy, only different.
It was too much, just too much. Because, to him, she was everything as well.
Inside of her, he hardened even further, and then, with one long stroke, he came for her, her name on his lips.
And when they fell asleep again, helplessly entangled in each other, his head on her shoulder, it was neither fantasy nor reality. It was just them; somewhere in the middle, making it real.
The best thing about fantasy nights? They did not end in the morning.
Nothing had to end ever again.
To be continued.