Disclaimer: I only own the characters not normally seen on the show…(and the plot bunnies)
Previously: It could never be just a dance.
A/N: I know, I know, this chapter has taken forever; feel free to yell at me but in my defense, I was dealing with exams and stress at home, not to mention, Christmas and my 18th birthday, so again, I am so sorry for the long wait! Enjoy!
(--)
"Dr. Brennan, I understand that you are here to assist in the investigation of the corpse, but, as you may recall, you were not a scheduled passenger onboard this vessel, so it shouldn't come as a shock to you," Captain Antoine said, glancing over his clipboard at the livid doctor.
"I didn't think that this would be a problem or I wouldn't have come at all," Brennan countered hotly.
"Dr. Brennan, let me remind you, I am the Captain here and I will not be ordered around by some scientist waving a Ph.D. in my face on my ship," Antoine replied, letting his clipboard fall to his sides.
"Actually, Captain, I am not just 'some scientist'; I am a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute and I have three Ph.D.s," she added for good measure.
Antoine responded with an annoyed look. He did not like it when people stepped in and started taking control of his ship. If there was one thing he did well, it was manage the vast Princess Grace. He wasn't going to let some crazy woman tell him how to do his job; ordering him to release a mutilated corpse--was she insane?
Antoine had neglected to inform the passengers onboard of the investigation, but he had a sneaking suspicion that people were starting to talk anyway. It probably had to do with the increased security Hernandez had ordered around the ship, or the fact that many of Antoine's employees had somewhat of a loose-lip syndrome.
Besides, as the insufferable Dr. Brennan had reminded him, it was only a matter of time before people started figuring it out: they were in a relatively small area, despite the enormity of the ship and all its many levels.
The sad truth was: none of them were leaving anytime soon.
Well, except for the two St. Thomas police officers who had escorted Dr. Brennan to the ship that morning: Officers Pierce and Keyshaw had taken the motorized skiff and left before it grew too dark for them to maneuver the ocean waters safely. They had offered to take Dr. Brennan with them, but she'd elected to stay onboard with the FBI Agent and the dead woman's child.
Now, however, she seemed to be regretting that decision, being that she'd been informed there was not, in fact, a spare room for her to stay in on the booked cruise ship. And if she hadn't already been grating on his nerves, Antoine might have found the good doctor's response to this information amusing, but as it was, she was just annoying.
"Captain, where do you propose I stay?" Brennan questioned, hands resting on her hips, evident through the flattering satin dress she'd worn for dinner.
"Well, you could stay with your FBI friend," Antoine indicated Booth standing in the corner with his finger. Temperance glanced back at her partner before turning her fiery eyes back on the Captain.
"How can you not have a spare room?" Temperance asked, somewhat rhetorically. She'd come to understand that cruise lines usually booked every single one of their rooms before setting sail, sometimes dropping the prices ridiculously low in an effort to catch a few more bites. But still, she'd thought there'd be something.
She didn't need a suite, although she was often treated to such things by the Jeffersonian or whoever was paying her tab on the occasion, and she didn't even need a room as nice as Booth's. All she needed was a bed and a blanket. She could manage. She'd slept on the floor of a dirt hut for three months when she was in Guatemala for God's sake!
"Well," Antoine raised his forefinger to his chin and mimicked thinking deeply, "there is one room, recently vacated." Brennan's attention piqued, her eyes hopeful, waiting, "I believe Regina had her own room."
Brennan gave him a dark scowl but he only chuckled. If Temperance cared at all for psychology she might have classified this man as a sociopath, but she didn't so she didn't. She merely gave him another angry glare and succumbed.
"Booth's room will be fine," she grumbled. With a single nod of his head, effectively putting Brennan into her subordinate place, Antoine turned away from the partners and busied himself with his staff.
It wasn't that sharing a room with Booth was a bad thing. She'd done it enough times before to be generally comfortable with it, but she couldn't help feeling like Booth's room was for him and Parker and she already intruded enough by falling asleep on his bed that afternoon. Granted, Booth had been the one who had called her and asked her to come down, but still, she felt like she was imposing.
The other thing was slightly more physical than emotional and that was what Temperance was more focused on as she and Booth walked away from the bridge and down the long expanse of ship deck back toward Booth's stateroom. They walked in comfortable silence which offered Brennan a chance to mull over her thoughts.
She wasn't an insecure woman by any means, nor was she made uncomfortable by situations regarding sexual intimacy; but sharing a bed with Booth, her partner, her friend, and the man who she happened to have shared a very thought-provoking dance with only a few hours before, was a little unsettling.
Sure, there had been one bed at the hotel in Vegas, necessary for their cover as 'Tony' and 'Roxie'; but the truth was, the one night they slept there, Booth had stayed up long-past Brennan, and she found him curled up on the couch in the morning.
So as Booth reached out his keycard to open the door to his room, Brennan couldn't help the hitch of her breath. Reminding herself that A) Booth was a gentleman and he wouldn't let anything happen and B) just because they were sharing a bed did not mean anything had to happen, she followed her partner inside.
Parker was sitting on the large bed watching television. Brennan froze slightly, looking at the object of her thoughts: that damn bed. She wondered where Parker was sleeping and her attention was drawn to Booth stepping through a door near the bathroom and coming back carrying Parker's pajamas. She gazed past him at the tiny, half room attached to the large main one, holding a small twin-sized bed, a little night stand and a television of its own.
"Come on, Park, time for bed," Booth instructed, stepping between his son and the cartoon show.
"Aw, just a little longer?" Parker whined.
"Nope, it's already way past your bedtime," Booth replied steadfastly.
"Okay," Parker gave in, pushing himself off the bed and taking the pajamas from his father. He trudged into his room and shut the door.
"He's a good kid," Brennan commented, her eyes still fixed on the closed door.
Booth couldn't suppress his smile, "Yeah, one of the best."
Brennan turned back to him, grinning.
"But that's a biased opinion," Booth added.
Temperance nodded as the door opened again and Parker slipped into the bathroom, brushing his teeth loudly to make sure his father was aware just how long he actually brushed for. He'd had a dentist appointment before the trip and was trying to impress his dad with how much he'd learned from the visit.
Brennan glanced at the small suitcase she'd packed and stowed in Booth's room earlier that day. She was thankful that she'd remembered to bring pajamas in her haste to leave the house that morning. God, had it really only been that morning? It felt like ages ago she'd left Sully in bed on a call from Booth.
She felt guilty again but it was quickly replaced by another feeling as Booth started pulling the covers of the bed back, revealing the soft, cotton-white sheets. Brennan swallowed involuntarily, watching him intently. The silence was broken by Parker's reappearance from the bathroom, freshly brushed and everything.
Booth slipped past Brennan and heaved his son into his arms. They disappeared into the other room and Brennan used the time to open her suitcase and search for her comfortable flannel pajama pants and old tank top.
"Bones," a squeaky voice behind her made Temperance jump a little. She glanced around to find Parker standing at the doorway in pajamas decorated with what looked to be a man dressed in a tight blue and red leotard, with various spider-inspired designs across it.
"Yeah, Parker?" Brennan asked, giving the small boy and bright smile.
"Goodnight," Parker said waving once before turning back on his heel and disappearing once more. Brennan called back to him before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
With Parker settled in bed, Booth stepped out of the little boy's room and closed the door gently behind him. He heard the faint sound of running water and gathered that Brennan was probably taking a shower.
He forced the thought from his head before gazing over the solid-blue comforter of the bed which he'd be sharing with his partner in a very short time. He swallowed sharply again.
He needed to keep his mind clear of any thoughts regarding the feeling of skin and satin under his fingertips, or of her warm breath on his neck, or of her proximity in general. He could feel his skin start to tingle in spite of himself.
But without another thought, he pulled off his jeans, opting for sweatpants instead of usual boxers, and slid into bed. He shut off the light near his head, hoping that maybe he'd be asleep before Temperance was finished in the bathroom.
No such luck, however, as a moment, the darkness around him was penetrated by the piercing florescent light from the bathroom. It was gone in a moment, however, and Booth heard Temperance move to the bed, pull back the covers and settle in beside him.
There was a comfortable amount of room between, partially because it was a king-sized bed and partially because the two were both lying as far to the side as they could without falling off.
The tension between them was palpable. Booth exhaled loudly, praying for sleep to come swiftly, but he was unrewarded, finding he was far more awake than he had been earlier. Perhaps that indulgent nap had been too much, throwing his sleep pattern off entirely.
Beside him, Brennan was feeling similar effects from her nap. She was beginning to feel jittery. She had a pretty vivid idea of what she usually did when she was graced with a bed-partner and couldn't sleep but in this instance, her bed-partner was in fact her partner-partner.
God give me strength, Booth begged, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness around him. He felt Temperance stir beside him and he desperately wanted to reach out to her, selfishly wanting some of that strength she flaunted so proudly.
As if by its own accord, Booth hand dragged itself from his side and felt for hers in the mountain of sheets and covers between them. When it closed hers, Booth heard Brennan breathe sharply and he was afraid that she might pull away, but instead, he felt her hand shift in his, entwining their fingers beneath the safety of the blankets.
It was as if everything was different here, Booth thought. There was no murder, no Jeffersonian or FBI, no Sully, just two people seeking strength from one another: A man and his fiancée.
He wanted to pull her to him, hold her until the end of time, but he knew, probably better than anyone, that this dream was going to end. They would solve the case, return to D.C. and this would all be a memory, a joke told over drinks at Wong Foo's: "so you remember that time on the cruise ship…"
He gritted his teeth bitterly.
Temperance was a rational person, and as such, she liked to weight pros and cons of every situation before deciding on the most, efficient, logical course of action. And in just fashion, she was debating whether to curl into Booth's warm embrace or settle for clinging to his hand like it was her only chance of survival.
She opted for the latter: it was safer.
And yet, as she finally felt the tension seep off her body and her eyes begin to drift shut, she kind of wished for something more dangerous.
(--)
The sound of an ever-smooth-talking rabbit was the first thing Booth heard as the remnants of sleep left him. Sunlight was cutting through the curtains, falling across the bed and warming the fabric, as he opened his eyes.
He was vaguely surprised not to find Temperance wrapped in his embrace, but couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when he realized that his hand had been pulled across her body, still clutched in hers, as she had turned on her side during the night.
He pushed himself off his stomach with his free hand and glanced at the adjoining room. Parker was lying on his tummy, munching on a granola bar and watching Bugs Bunny convince Daffy Duck that it was in fact duck, not rabbit, season.
"Psst, Parker," Booth called in a loud whisper.
The little boy looked up before bounding off his bed and launching himself onto his father. The action caused a ruffled Dr. Brennan to grunt and roll over her, waking up as she found Parker lying across her abdomen. She blinked a few times before smiling at the child who was giving her a sheepish look.
"Morning, Bones," he said. Booth rolled his eyes, so much for letting Bones sleep.
"Good morning, Parker," Brennan replied.
"Did you sleep good?" the boy asked.
"Yes, very well," Temperance answered, blushing slightly when she saw that her hand was still clasped with Booth's. She dropped it before meeting his eyes, but she saw only happiness dancing across the chocolate irises, the teasing spark having returned.
Booth held her gaze for a moment more before looking at his son, "So, who's up for some breakfast?"
"Me, me, me!" Parker exclaimed excitedly. Booth pulled himself, somewhat slowly, from the warmth of the sheets and reached for the telephone on the bedside table.
As Booth dialed some room service for them, Tempe couldn't help but glance at the clock. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw that it was nearing nine thirty. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept till six o' clock, let alone nine thirty.
She realized, with some trepidation, that the reason for her peaceful slumber hadn't entirely been her lack of sleep the night before, but rather the person with whom she'd shared said slumber.
Pulling herself away from the bed, she grabbed a set of clean clothes and started toward the bathroom. Her shower the night before had effectively washed away the grit of a day's work, but this shower, she knew, was washing away several other feelings.
Sully was a good man. He genuinely cared about her; and Temperance had rarely had someone like that in her life. She didn't want to let 'another good one'--as Angela referred to the man--get away. And yet, Booth was…well, she couldn't find a good adjective to describe him, or what he meant to her.
It was for the same reason, she imagined, that she hadn't been able to properly explain to Sully why she'd left on a simple phone call. Although Temperance had made an obvious show of her animosity toward Booth for compelling her to fly down to the Caribbean, but the truth was, she didn't need any convincing. He'd said 'body' and she had made up her mind.
She felt the cool water wash over her; sometimes, when she was feeling particularly whimsical, she imagined that these sensations were what Heaven would feel like, if she believed in Heaven, which she didn't. Just to be clear.
A soft knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. Booth's voice echoed through the small room, reverberating over the drumming of the water on the glass walls of the shower.
"Hey, Bones, food's here."
Temperance hadn't even realized she'd even been in the shower that long, but a quick glance at her hands revealed prune-y fingers. She hadn't meant to drift into her thoughts like she had, but pushed away the surprise and turned the water off.
Stepping from the shower and toweling off quickly, she dressed and pulled her damp hair back into a loose bun, a few wet strands falling out of place. She appraised herself in the mirror once before deciding that she wasn't going to look any better and opened the bathroom door.
Which she then succeeded to push into Booth's unsuspecting face; he reeled back in pain and shock, knocking into the wall behind him. Brennan rushed to his side, Booth's hand pressed against his eyebrow. She pushed it away.
"Let me see," she instructed. He moved his hand, revealing an angry welt and bruise beginning to form, but nothing more serious.
"You're fine," she commented.
"Yeah, thanks," Booth replied sarcastically, rubbing his eye painfully.
"Sorry about that," Brennan added sheepishly.
"Nice aim, by the way, Bones," Booth joked, easing her guilt. Brennan smiled slightly despite herself and followed Booth the short distance to the bed and sitting area, where she was pleased to discover was a vast array of appetizing breakfast options. Parker was already inhaling pancakes, giggling at his father's new black eye.
Brennan sat down beside him and eyed the Belgian Waffles with anticipation. She felt her stomach rumble hungrily and without further hesitation, pulled the white china plate toward her.
Booth watched his partner and his son enjoying their breakfasts with equally appreciative looks dazzling their features. He was almost content to enjoy his cup of coffee and watch them eat…almost. He couldn't fight the fact that he was only slightly starving and grabbed a plate of steak and eggs, glancing once more at Brennan before digging in.
(--)
TBC...
A/N: I feel like now is a good time to thank all of you who have stuck by this story, and me and my crazy update schedule, since the beginning. You guys have been great and I appreciate everything! I hope you liked this chapter. Every time I get writer's block I find a nice fluffy BB chapter is just the thing to help with. Thanx!
Bee