A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter took me a little longer than expected, but pre-holiday stress got the better of me. This is likely the last chapter I'll manage to post before Christmas, but I'll do my best to finish at least one more chapter before the new year. In the meantime, happy holidays!
A note on canon: I began writing this story before episode 6.09 (The Doctor in the Photo) aired, so the events in that episode or anything that happens later on the show did not happen here.
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Part 2
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Coming home to Bones' empty apartment still feels strange. She gave him the key weeks ago, yet he always feels like an intruder when he unlocks her door instead of waiting for her to open it. She told him she'd be late, though, and tonight's hockey practice left him tired and sore, so he tries not to overthink things when he flops down on her couch and rests his aching feet on the coffee table. His stomach is growling, but she promised to bring takeout for both of them, so he's determined to wait for her.
Booth is well aware that a part of him still expects to wake up any moment and realize that the last weeks were nothing but a rather bizarre dream. Out of pure habit, his hand reaches for the reassuring wad of paper in his pocket before his rational mind catches up and reminds him that the letter is in the jacket he just took off. He's begun carrying it with him like a talisman wherever he goes; it may be a little pathetic, but he needs the physical reminder that there's a side to Temperance Brennan he'd never even guessed at.
And yet, no matter how often he rereads those pages that turned his world upside down two months ago, he still can't fully convince himself it's all real. It's not that he doesn't believe her, but he knows her well enough to understand how her mind works, and the nagging fear that he's fooling himself again has become his ever-present companion.
He has never told her that, of course, and neither is he ever going to tell her how close he came to not showing up for that meeting at the Reflecting Pool – not when she's so visibly trying to get everything "right", to make it one hundred percent clear that she's serious about… this, whatever it is they're having at the moment.
Your father and I are partners, Parker. That's what she told his son when he asked her if she was Dad's girlfriend now, that afternoon when the three of them went swimming in her pool for the first time in more than a year. She says she doesn't approve of the term "girlfriend", that she likes the idea they've expanded their partnership beyond the realm of the professional and are now partners in all aspects of their lives. He can live with that; not that it really matters at the moment because nobody knows yet that they're together. Bones was the one to suggest that there should be a period of adjustment for both of them before they tell anyone, and Booth was quick to agree – the thought of having Sweets or Angela nosing around while everything still feels so new and fragile is unsettling, to say the least, and he's more than happy to keep things under wraps at the moment. So "partners" it is, and until now no one has noticed that there's no just preceding the term these days.
And God, is she trying. He knows that the smart thing would be to hold back a little, to see if things really work out before he lets himself get fully involved, but even though he knows he's giving her the power to tear his heart to shreds for good this time, there's no holding back when he sees her reach out to him whenever she can. During those times when he still allowed himself to dream of being with her, he always imagined that he'd be the one to give her guidance in relationship matters if he and Bones ever got together. Now he finds himself leaning on her whenever the too-familiar doubts are closing in again, and even though she never says so, she seems determined to make sure he can keep believing in the things he used to have faith in. He appreciates the effort, but it makes him feel even more out of sorts than he already is – he hates not being able to trust his instincts any longer, but if the past year has taught him anything, it's that his instincts aren't worth a damn these days when it comes to his own life.
With a sigh, Booth looks around for the remote to distract himself with the sports channel before he slips into another round of pointless brooding (he's done enough of that lately to last him a lifetime), but that's when he hears a key turning in the lock of the front door, and he scrambles up from the couch and goes to greet Bones as she rushes in with a cheerful, "Booth, I'm home!" He can already feel his spirits rising – it's a small, daily miracle that in spite of doubts and fears and worries, her presence never fails to brighten his mood, and when she kisses him lightly and simultaneously pushes the two greasy pizza boxes she was carrying into his hands, the feeling of normalcy settles around him like a warm blanket. Perhaps it's just the fact that they've spent their evenings eating takeout together for years, but even though they're not living together, there's a familiar, almost domestic feel to these moments when they're coming home to each other. It's something he never quite achieved with Hannah, because deep down he always felt a little like a teenager who has his girlfriend staying over when his parents are away and knows he has to make the most of it while it lasts.
Booth resolutely pushes the thought away; Hannah is high on the list of topics he really doesn't want to dwell on these days. He puts the pizza boxes on the dining table and helps Bones out of her jacket, cheerfully ignoring the eyeroll that his attempts at chivalry always earn him. "I missed you at lunch."
She gives him an apologetic smile and leans in to kiss him again, deeper this time. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. How was your practice?"
Booth winces a little. "The boys gave me hell in the locker room when they noticed the souvenirs you left on me last night."
As he expected, Bones remains unfazed. "Considering how much pride men take in their sexual conquests, I doubt you minded very much."
He curses himself for the blush he can feel creep up his cheeks at the memory of the ribbing he took – it was all good-natured and more than a little envious, sure, but he still doesn't like the fact that his buddies now think that he's started fucking around the moment his girlfriend was out of the door. "Bones, you're not a 'conquest', okay? And it's not like I can explain to them why I'm walking around with do-me-harder scratches all over my back and shoulders."
The grin she flashes him in reply is downright dirty, and he can't help it that it goes directly to his nether regions. "I doubt that your friends required an explanation, Booth. – Just let me go change, then we can eat, okay?"
With that, she disappears into the bedroom, leaving Booth torn between the need for a cold shower and the urge to follow her and make sure they don't get out of bed again for quite some time. He leans against the wall and takes a deep breath, trying to get a grip on himself. In spite of what Bones used to think of him, he's never been prudish in his relationships, but sleeping with Bones is different from anything he's ever experienced in that regard. He's always been attracted to self-confident, energetic women – Cam was a firecracker in bed, and it seems in retrospect like sex was the one thing that really worked between him and Hannah, but ever since he first started dating in High School, he has held on to the belief that treating women with respect also means keeping in mind that they're physically weaker and always the more vulnerable partner. Then, later, when he began to realize the full extent of the damage he was capable of doing, he became even warier of letting any of it invade his love life, and he made sure to keep things gentle and playful in the bedroom because he knew only too well what could happen if he ever forgot himself.
He's done it for so long now that it has become second nature to him, and it's more than a little unsettling that Bones will have none of it. He still can't think of their first night together without the sharp sting of guilt and shame, but it seems to have become some kind of standard for her because she's been hell-bent on making him lose control ever since. The truly disturbing thing is that it's working only too well; there's a part of him that clearly enjoys the new freedom of letting himself go completely and is only too eager to give in to the temptation. He isn't likely to forget the first time he saw finger-shaped bruises on her fair skin the morning after – he was so horrified that he couldn't even look her in the eyes, but she laughed it off and pointed out the scratches and bite marks she left on him. There can be no doubt that Bones gives as good as she gets, but he still doesn't know what to do with the fact that she's encouraging him where she should stop him. She knows him better than he's sometimes comfortable with, has gotten more than one glimpse of his darker side – the one that kills and maims, that fucks women instead of making love to them, that's everything he's been struggling so hard to keep hidden whenever it threatened to bubble to the surface, and yet it doesn't frighten or disgust her, on the contrary, it's clearly turning her on.
Afghanistan was the first harsh reminder that the man he thought he left behind long ago is still a part of him, no matter how much he tried to lose himself in Hannah's arms whenever it got too much, but this is almost worse, because now he isn't even trying to resist any more. He can't help it that his thoughts wander back a few weeks to that drive home from an arrest that went south, when Bones insisted on coming with him and almost ended up taking a bullet for him. He started yelling at her the moment they were alone, and they kept fighting on the way back until she suddenly told him to pull over on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere and jumped out of the car. By the time he'd gotten out as well, she had pulled down her jeans and panties, and when he just stood there gaping at her, she bent over the hood and told him through clenched teeth, "Right now, before I kill you." He isn't sure what kind of man it makes him that he didn't even consider telling her no, but there's no denying the dozens of times he has jerked off to the memory of that moment. He doesn't know whether the things they're doing to each other can still be considered healthy or even normal, but he does know that she's gotten him addicted.
And yet, there are times when she's so tender and affectionate that just going along with it makes him feel like the world's greatest sap, especially because there can be no doubt that he's enjoying it. She never sits beside him on the couch without snuggling up to him, keeps her hand on his thigh when they're alone in his car, and more than once she has played footsie with him under the table when they were having lunch together at the diner. No matter how rough things get when they're having sex, she'll curl up in his arms like a tired kitten afterwards, and he'll fall asleep to the feeling of her hand lazily stroking his skin that still bears the marks of her nails from earlier. Booth doesn't think he'll ever forget the first night he spent in her bed – he was ready to collapse on the spot after that romp against her front door, but just when he was about to drift off after they'd finally made it into the bedroom, she bent over him and began studying him. He was a little weirded out because it made him feel like the bones on her table, but there was something incredibly intimate in the way she focused her entire attention on him, as if she were slowly and carefully exploring every part of his body until it yielded all its secrets to her.
"Booth?" Her voice pulls him out of the memory, and he realizes belatedly that she has reappeared from the bedroom. She's wearing grey yoga pants and one of his Flyers t-shirts that hangs loosely around her, but still doesn't conceal the fact that she's wearing no bra underneath, and Booth immediately feels his mouth go dry. She notices, too, because she gives him a little wink before she disappears into the kitchen; by now she knows only too well what the sight of her breasts moving freely under his clothes does to him. Booth is well aware that he's had a bit of a fixation with her breasts for a long time, but he figures that she really can't blame a guy for noticing that kind of rack when he's constantly around it. He still has fond memories of the dress she wore for that Egyptian exhibit, especially since he ended up standing close enough to her to look directly down her generous cleavage. She has begun teasing him that he only reminds her to eat because he wants to fatten her up, and if he's totally honest with himself, Booth has to admit that he wouldn't mind at all if she put on a few extra pounds, considering how much he loves the feeling of her lush curves under his hands.
He follows her to the kitchen, but remains standing under the arch that separates it from the dining area. She's bent over the green peppers she's chopping, and Booth grins at the realization that she's still determined to make him eat healthier. "I could have fixed the salad while I was waiting for you."
She gives him a wry look over her shoulder. "I've seen what you call salad – it's usually half a gallon of dressing with a few green leaves drowning in it."
"Hey, I've gotten no complaints about my salads before," he shoots back with mock indignation. "What kind of pizza did you get?"
"Spinach and feta cheese for me, mushrooms and ham for you."
Booth makes a face. "You know, spinach on a pizza is just wrong."
She playfully waves the knife at him. "Watch it, or I'll get spinach for both of us next time."
"Way to make a guy lose his appetite, Bones." His heart isn't in the protest, though; standing there watching her makes him itch to walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, but he knows better than to give in to the impulse. He still remembers only too well how Hannah used to scold him for what she called his "clingy act", and he couldn't very well tell her that he kept touching her because he wanted to make sure of the connection between them that never seemed quite real when they were apart. Bones isn't Hannah, but she's still the woman who used to freak out at the mere thought of letting anyone get too close, so he figures that he should keep himself in check and let her call the shots before he manages to frighten her into pulling back. It's a precarious balance, because he doesn't want her to think he's distant, either, but thankfully she saves him from worrying about it further.
"Why are you just standing there, Booth? Are you waiting for a printed invitation?"
"Engraved invitation, Bones," he corrects with a chuckle and a profound feeling of relief. She leans into him when his arms encircle her waist and turns her head to the side so that the kiss that was intended for her cheek ends up on the corner of her mouth.
"Hi."
"Hi to you, too." Booth tightens his arms around her and breathes in the familiar scent of her shampoo. It's one of those precious moments when there's no more need to think, to worry, to be prepared for all eventualities because he just feels happy, and everything seems easy for a little while. They can never last long, not with the kind of lives they're both leading, but it's during these moments that he can truly believe they are going to make it. He remembers that first, blinding flash of pure happiness when he watched Bones toweling Parker's hair until the little boy shrieked with laughter, that afternoon when they went swimming together; he sometimes gets it when the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes in the morning is her sleepy smile, or when she gives him that furtive, knowing look while they're together in public that tells him she's counting the hours until they're alone again.
"Okay, I'm done here. Can you take this to the table?"
"Sure." Booth takes the salad bowl from her and finds himself remembering the time after his tour in Iraq, when he had to learn how to walk again after half the bones in his feet had been broken. It was difficult and painful in the beginning, but it got easier as time passed, and after a while the old feeling of normalcy returned even though he knew that injuries like that never completely stop hurting. By now, he's so used to the occasional flash of pain that it has become a part of him; it no longer restricts his ability to move, but it makes sure he'll never take it for granted that he's back on his feet.
"Booth?" Her puzzled tone makes him realize that he has zoned out again, and he quickly follows her to the dining table before he ends up with spinach on his pizza after all.
