She wasn't running, not literally at least. She would never actually run away from a situation. It was more of a fast paced determined retreat. Arms swaying purposefully side to side as she power walked back to their room at the Queen Anne. By the time Booth explained away her sudden departure from the shooting range she had a solid head start. Booth ran, he wasn't above running in pursuit of her. Across the grounds, through the halls, all the way to the door of their room. Taking just a second to catch his breath before opening the door and joining her in the room.
Suitcase spread out across the bed, he watched as she gathered clothes from the closet and frantically dumped them in, hangers and all, turning around to gather more.
"Bones."
"I need to get back to the lab." That's all she said as she shoved an armful of clothes still on the hanger into her suitcase.
"No, you don't." When she turned to head back to the closet he grabbed the clothes, took them back, and hung them up.
"Yes, I do." More items hastily shoved into the suitcase. "You...you...saw the picture of the murder weapon, it could be the letter opener. I need to take that back to the lab for Hodgins to analyze. I...I...I need to get back to my lab." This time instead of heading for the closet she marched to the desk pulled out the drawer and collected the letter opener as evidence.
"There are letter openers in every room, Bones, every room, and in the office. Hell, there's probably a case of them somewhere." Booth took more clothes from the suitcase back to the closet hastily hanging them back on the rod.
"I need to examine the stab wounds myself. We're getting no where here. I am more useful at the lab. I need to get back to the lab." Huffing in frustration she went back to the closet and took clothes Booth unpacked back to the suitcase.
"Bones, trust me, that is not what you need." This time he came up behind her. "Stop." His voice was soft and low. "Just stop, okay? We need to talk." She stiffened when she felt his hands on her shoulders. "I know what you need, okay?" He felt her shoulders fall, relaxing under his soothing touch.
"I need to get back to the lab." There was resignation in her voice this time, hardly the strong protest she'd lodged just seconds ago. She let her arms fall limp to her sides still clutching hands full of clothes.
They needed to talk, he was right. He tried to tell her that yesterday morning and again last night when her mounting fears became obvious. He thought they were past all those barriers, thought he knew where things were headed when they left the dance floor and the 1930s behind. The magic followed them as they meandered, slowly making their way back to their room.
Resting her hand on his shoulder for balance, Brennan wobbled as she took off one of her uncomfortable heels and then the other. Exhausted, she gathered up the bottom of her gown and draped it over her arm walking bare footed next to Booth through the halls of the Queen Anne. She enjoyed the closeness they shared, his arm hung comfortably over her shoulder, his breath on her neck as he nuzzled in. There wasn't the slightest hint of hesitation or awkwardness between them. Her low laughter echoed in the empty halls and he couldn't stop tickling her with light kisses and sweet affections just to hear it one more time. It was a dream, a night neither of them would soon forget.
They were a couple feet away from the door when she stopped abruptly. Booth didn't see it coming, still laughing and joking with her until he felt the tug on his arm. Standing still she let her gown fall back down to the ground. Pulling him back she kissed him soundly and when he tried to move them towards the room, in hopes of continuing, she wouldn't budge.
"Bones." He whispered in her ear.
He felt her shuddered breath, her trembling frame as she tried to hold back the overwhelming thoughts and emotions racing through her mind. Another kiss, a desperate kiss, as she clung to him.
"We need to talk." He murmured against her lips. It was a plea, the second time in one day he tried to address this change between them. Her head nodded in agreement gently against his stubbly cheek as she took in a little gasp of air. He could feel how tenuous her emotional control was, fragile and teetering.
"I know." She admitted before adding a caveat. "Not now, not tonight." He held her loosely in his arms, rocking her gently.
"When we get home, okay?" Booth knew her, he understood. "When we're back home and we're done with the case." Another nod, another kiss, long and slow, her silent form of communication at the moment. An unspoken agreement, things would go no farther until they were home and could address the situation without their undercover roles tainting reason.
Booth puffed his cheeks full of air before slowly letting it out. This was the byproduct of her black and white way of thinking. On the dance floor, on the tennis courts or out here in the hall she could hide behind their alter egos, they were Bogart and Bacall. Over that threshold, they were Booth and Brennan. This worked, they worked, because she was able to keep things separate, compartmentalize, black and white, one or the other, with set boundaries and parameters. This case, this trip, this night, blurred every line she used to maintain her balance in the world, her sense of balance between them. Nothing was black and white anymore, it was a mucky grey. She needed time to adjust.
Booth pulled her tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Standing there in the hall, holding her close, he knew that waiting to address this change between them was risky. Bones would overthink it, every last little nuance, every touch, every kiss, every last word he said to her over the last several days, all of it. She'd what if it to death.
Even so, he couldn't help wondering if the night ended there, if nothing else happened between them, would she be frantically packing, ready to run.
Booth stepped around her, letting his hand slide gently down her arm to her hand. Carefully, he took the clothes she was still gripping and hung them back up. Repeating the process with the other hand. She stood silently, glancing over her shoulder to watch him, waiting for him to come back to her. He didn't, not right away.
Closing her eyes, taking in a deep breath, she listened as Booth's footsteps led away from where she stood. She heard the rattle of the Do not disturb sign as he took it from the back of the door and hung it outside on the knob. The heavy sound of the door closing made her jump just a little. Soft beeps and dings filled the quiet space as he set his phone to silent. Each movement he made heightened her awareness as her heart beat faster and faster. She swallowed hard against the tension in her throat. Her phone was next and she couldn't help but peek at him, watching as he set it back down on the desk. Pulling her attention away, she stared up at the ceiling and forced herself to breath.
"I need to see the bones for myself, Booth. If my theory is correct then the stab wounds aren't arbitrary at all. Each victim was stabbed exactly the amount of years the previous mistress had been with thei-" He was behind her again. His hands resting on her hips. "Booth." He stepped in closer, so close she could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. "I...I...I can take Hodgins the letter opener and he can confirm it was the mur-" She lost her train of thought as Booth stepped in closer still, barely regaining it long enough to register one last protest. "I need to get back to the lab."
"I have a confession to make, Bones." Booth ignored everything she just said. His voice was soft and low and entreating. "I was awake." A quick exhale and even faster gasp for air, she felt a wave of emotion roll over her and crash down upon her.
His hands, she'd been thinking about them all morning. In fact, it seemed she couldn't think of anything else. Large and muscled, veins standing out along the backs of them winding their way up his strong arms. They were rough, not so calloused that they scratched or hurt, just enough to know this was a man who worked with his hands. Just enough to make his touch uniquely his. Booth's hands were strong, but he always handled her with tenderness. She knew that because somewhere in the early morning those hands touched her in a way they never had before.
She woke in the middle of the night gasping for air, stifling the urge to scream in terror, trembling, barely able to breathe. Opening her eyes as wide as she could, she struggled to tie herself to reality. Her heart raced. Booth was next to her. She could hear his even breaths. Taking a forced even breath she turned and twisted, ready to slide out of bed and head for the bathroom rather than wake him as she fought the lingering effects of her nightmare. Booth's hand spread out across her hip.
"No." He mumbled, his mouth dry and cottony from sleep, "c'mere." Pulling her body in flush with his own Booth wrapped himself protectively around her. "Nightmare?" She gasped and shuddered barely able to nod her answer.
His hand traveled up and down her back, firm at first, the weight of which brought a sense of safety and security with each stroke. Then lighter, as all her resistance melted away and she sunk into his side. Until, relaxed, her body rose and fell with every breath he took. With no more need for his consoling touch his hands meandered, caressing the gentle curves of her body. She hummed and dozed, not wanting to let go and sleep but too exhausted to fight it anymore. They slept, for a little while at least, slipping in and out of wakefulness as the faint light of dawn barely peeked in through cracks in the curtains, still wrapped tightly in one another's arms.
Somewhere in that dreamy state she felt his hand move along the gentle curve of her spine, tucked up under her tank top, sliding along her bare skin. It didn't feel real and she was too sleepy to make the distinction. Humming without reservation, because it felt sublime, and she wanted more. When his hands never strayed from their course along her back she rolled over in his arms enjoying the sensation as they drifted along her skin around to her tummy.
It was his turn to moan with pleasure, settling her back against his chest, pulling her hair back away from her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck. All while his hands found a new path low on her hips, along her thighs, testing the boundaries of her sleep shorts.
Neither would admit to being awake, wanting and willing to stay in this heightened state of arousal, enjoying the sensation of touch too much to complicate it with wakefulness. First one phone and then the other buzzed and rang breaking the beautiful fantasy. They were awake, there was no way to feign sleep anymore. Pretending it didn't happen, the partners just got up and got ready for another long day of undercover work and never spoke about it.
"I was awake, Bones." She couldn't breathe, his confession rattled her. "I was awake and I think you were too."
"Booth." She barely murmured his name.
"You like evidence, right? Wanna hear my evidence, Bones?" She didn't answer and he didn't wait for her to. "It took me awhile to figure it out but I think I got it." She felt his hands at her waist, his fingers playing with the sides of her blouse. A slight tug, first one side and then the other until he freed it from her waistband. "I watched you in the spa." She begged him not to go with her to the spa and her appointment with the hairdresser. She needed some distance, some space to think, to get her feelings back under control. He didn't want to give her space, he wanted her safe and close.
"You were looking in the mirror but you weren't watching Lelia or what she was doing with your hair. You were watching me." Everything between them seemed so out of control. It was wonderful and scary, it was completely new territory. "I know because I moved around just to prove my theory." It was so hard to stay engaged in the conversation with Lelia when her mind was completely wrapped up in Booth. "And then I realized it wasn't me you were watching it was my hands."
Bones gasped as his hand slid under her blouse and onto her bare skin mimicking his early morning touch. Leaning back against his chest, she let her eyes fall shut. This feeling, this very sensation consumed her morning. Every time she looked at his hands she relived that early morning in his arms. Fighting to maintain her composure as she casually questioned the hair dresser. In that moment she didn't care that Lelia loved her customers or how betrayed she felt when one of them suffered because some philandering "asshole" traded up for a newer model.
Secretly, she hoped Booth was listening because the details of the lady's life and possible alibis seemed to slip between her thoughts. Did she say she lived here during the week in bungalows just outside the resorts main grounds? That made sense. The nearest town was a solid forty-five minutes away. Or did she commute home each night? She couldn't remember. It was all fuzzy. She would have to ask him later.
"And why would you be watching my hands like that, with that look in your eyes, if you weren't awake, if you weren't thinking about it?" He whispered, his lips right behind her ear, each word tickled, teased of something more intimate.
By the time they met Don at the firing range she was a wreck and more than happy to let Booth take over. They talked over the rifle. Design details and specs that meant nothing to her. Booth was such a natural, weaving questions about Oliver in with ease. Nothing seemed to rattle him or peak his interest. Oliver was probably just a guy, a victim of sorts, not the killer. She watched from the sidelines, her arms folded protectively close to her chest, hands tucked in tight, occasionally pulling one hand free to push a wisp of hair back behind her ear. She was relieved her view was primarily of Booth's back. Still distracted, reliving the night over and over in her head, she missed her cue when Don invited her to step up and give the gun a try. Booth saved her.
"You know, Don, why don't I test 'er out first?" She watched intently as Booth lifted the rifle and aimed, adjusting his hands and fingers to find just the right grip. She saw every twitch, felt every movement his fingers made, relived every sensation. Booth looked back over his shoulder to check on her and she knew he saw it in her eyes. Transparent and vulnerable, unable to hide it from him, she turned on her heel and marched off.
"It's okay that you were awake, Temperance, because I was too. I was awake too." His hands were moving, brushing lightly across her skin and she couldn't help the hum that escaped her lips. Booth pulled his hands away feeling for the buttons on her blouse, nimbly undoing them one at a time, talking to her softly. "We've gotta stop running from this, you know? We both feel it, I know we do. We need to stop pretending it's not happening." Scooping her hair to the side he gently kissed his way down her neck, moving the fabric of her shirt a little farther off her shoulder with each kiss until it slipped right off.
"Booth."
"Hmmm." He hummed against her neck, starting to work on the other shoulder. His fingers tickled her skin as they dipped between the collar of her blouse and her neck. One arm wrapped around her waist held her close. Her hand rested on that arm, keeping him tied to her body. She wanted this, more than anything she wanted this, she just didn't know how to process it. She wiggled and squirmed in his arms.
"Should we talk?" He chuckled lightly against her skin. Talking was about the farthest thing from his mind but if that's what she really wanted, if she needed it, well, then he'd give her that.
"No, I don't wanna talk, Bones, do you?" Her blouse fell to the ground as she turned in his arms and tugged his polo shirt up over his head.
"Work, what about work?" Cupping her face gently in his hands, he pressed a soft kiss right in the middle of her worried brow.
"It can wait. Work can wait." Pulling her in, he kissed her on the lips, really kissed her for the first time in this room, the room they shared. Unreserved, hard and open and needy, that kiss was full of nearly six years worth of passion.
It tipped the scales and sent them both tumbling over the edge. They were a blur as they crashed into walls and furniture, using every surface to press up against one another. Struggling to stay connected as they pushed and pulled and tugged, their way out of the remainder of their clothes. Their frantic need to be one, to connect in a way they denied themselves for years, wrestled with their desire to take things slow. Two tangled bodies, pausing briefly to savor a pleasurable touch, a kiss, wanting the time to explore and feel every long hidden curve and muscled plane of their bodies. Until need overwhelmed them.
"Now." She begged him, unwilling to wait any longer.
"Now." He answered.
His breath stolen as he pushed into her. A sense of relief washed over them, relief and completeness, the overwhelming feeling that this was the way there were always meant to be. For a moment they were satisfied to experience that singular feeling, relish it until it wasn't enough. They wanted more, needed more, and they felt it build again, that desire, pulling them apart and sending them crashing back together. They felt it coil inside them and fought to make it last. Until they couldn't hold it off any longer. Shattering, they collapsed on one another, barely able to breathe.
In the wake of their beautiful interlude they lay peacefully bare in each other's arms tracing light patterns on one another's skin. Hushed tones and soft whispers mixed with occasional giggles. It kept the mood light and airy. They finally talked, admitting long held secrets, confessing fears and jealousies they hid over the years, some more recent than others, and made a few decisions. They wouldn't stop working together, it meant too much to both of them. They would find a way around the rules. They would figure out how to keep the line between their professional and private lives. Most importantly they decided this would be theirs, no one would know until they were ready to tell them. They would live the lie they cleared with Cullen and Hacker, the one they told Don.
They were moving onto a long list of fantasies when they heard the door to their room opening. The panicked ramblings of Frank headed their way.
"Dr. Brennan, oh god, Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, are you in he-" He stumbled into view, quickly covering his eyes with his hand and spinning around.
"What the hell, Frank, you couldn't knock like everybody else?" Booth was tucking the blankets up around Bones' chin as she protested, wrestling with his protectiveness. Booth tried to understand what Frank was saying.
"I'm not...oh god...I'm not looking...I swear I'm n-"
"Frank." Booth's voice bellowed over his. "What's wrong?"
"There's...there's a body. There's a dead body in the elevator."
ooooo0ooooo
A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the last chapter! With all last month's wonderful milestones and celebrations I didn't have much time for writing and getting back into the swing of things has been harder than I anticipated. All those kind reviews have really stoked the writing fires. It only took 1 ½ versions to get this chapter to come together! Yay!
I am, of course, very curious to hear your thoughts on this chapter!
Much love,
~DG
