Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.
A/n: Hey ::she greets tentatively:: I know it's been a long wait, but better late than never, right? And this is the longest chapter so far! To everyone who has PMed, asking/demanding an update, lol, I have been greatly encouraged by the support! Since it's been so long, I'd suggest maybe skimming the previous chapter as this is pretty much a direct continuation of that. I think after this one, the story will not be so rigidly linear, rather chapters will jump ahead in time more.
Special shout-out to Bones pal Dispatch who will absolutely make sure this story does not go un-completed.
Let me know what you think of my little AU craziness! :)
Compromise on the Battlefield
Brennan walked out of the room ahead of Booth and waited tensely outside his office for him to lead her inside. Instinctively, she knew his office was a very private domain for him and though she had no compunctions about invading his privacy to ensure his safety, she had no desire to do so for the sake of annoying him. Especially, since she needed him complaisant for the discussion they were about to have.
Jaw clenched tightly in annoyance, Booth reached around her for the knob, his arm brushing against hers. And damn if his entire body didn't freeze in white heat. What the hell was it about her that made him feel the most contradictory things?
Maybe because she's the most contradictory woman you've ever met.
He shook off the distracting thought, pretty sure he was going to need all his faculties at maximum capacity to deal with her. Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked purposely to his desk and sat down.
This was his damn office. Here, he was king of his castle and she was damn well going to deal with it.
"The veterans' fundraiser and the moot court competition stay," he stated without preamble. "No discussion."
Brennan's nostrils flared at the steely words and she had to work at keeping her composure. It chafed the way he could anger her. Never before him had she actually needed to work so hard at keeping a calm and collected demeanor.
Her mind whirled trying to figure out which of those two events she wanted to fight. It was easy enough to decide. The fundraiser would have a fair number of VIPs so the security would be much better than at this school competition of his.
"This competition?" she began carefully. "It takes place at Georgetown, correct?"
"It stays, Brennan," he repeated, intractably.
"Would you be reasonable!" Her exasperation could not be contained. "Cam informs me that you will be judging some kind of legal argument, but that the school can replace you."
"Brennan, listen carefully …" Booth knew he sounded unreasonable, but he wanted to make her understand so he attempted to explain. "Yes, I can be replaced, but it's not as simple as that. I've been scheduled as a judge at this competition for the last four months. Before I was even appointed to the Court. And now that I am, it's even more of a big deal that I will be attending."
"Why?"
"The competition basically mirrors an appellate argument at the Supreme Court level. This is a national competition, so the students who compete at this level are the best of the best and have spent countless months and an obscene number of hours preparing for this. They've put more time and effort into it that some people probably put into their jobs."
"Fine, but that still—"
"I'm not done." He nearly smiled at her expression. Booth was sure she wasn't aware her impatience was reflected so openly on her face. "I will be judging the final round, which means the top two teams who participate in this competition. Usually, having a federal judge at this final round is difficult enough, having a Supreme Court justice is a minor miracle."
Brennan listened to him with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The way he was talking was telling her the odds of winning on this were absolutely zero.
"All right, so you're some kind of miracle," she began, just barely preventing herself from rolling her eyes. "Which I'm guessing means your participation in this has been heavily advertised, right?"
"It has," he conceded. "And I know where you're going with this, but I'm not going to back down because some psycho will know where to find me on November 15. Look, I realize it probably seems unbelievable to you that some competition could be this important, but believe me, for these students, it is. And nearly as important for them, is the fact that I'm judging that final round. That's not ego, Brennan, that's just fact."
"Damn it!" she cursed in frustration, knowing she wasn't going to win this fight. With a dark frown, she muttered, "You know what the minor miracle will be? Keeping you alive until this lunatic is caught."
"C'mon, doc," Booth smiled charmingly, aware he had just won that battle and amused at her snarky mutter. "I have the upmost faith in your abilities."
Brennan threw him another dirty look, but didn't comment, instead choosing to regroup. Grabbing his schedule from the desk, she examined it with a critical eye. "The television interview is taped before an audience and poses considerable—"
"Fine," he inclined his head graciously. "It's out."
Brennan's eyes narrowed at the quick acquiescence and her gaze bore into his, looking for any unforeseen traps. He merely gave her a cheerful smile, revealing straight white teeth and slight indentations in his cheeks. And it wasn't just his lips, but his eyes seemed to be smiling too, crinkling a little at the corners.
It concerned her, Brennan had to admit, the way she seemed to be aware of even the smallest details when it came to him. She was trained to be observant, of course, but there was something about the Honorable Seeley Booth that alerted all of her senses. Something about the curve of his lips and the timbre of his voice, and even the sheer stubbornness he radiated in the face of a life-threatening situation fascinated her against her will.
She recalled how when he'd opened the door to the study, the brush of his dress shirt against her bare arm had suddenly made her want to feel him against all of her. It was nearly preposterous, the way he compelled her without even trying. This was not good. Not good at all. But she couldn't lie to herself, despite the intrinsic danger, she still wanted more. She wanted a lot more of him.
"Brennan?"
His voice jerked her back to reality and she blinked, frowning at the very dangerous thoughts floating through her mind.
"There shouldn't even be a discussion about any of this," she stated brusquely, resenting the way he drew her, resenting that he was forcing her to compromise. She did not compromise. That's what had made her so good at her job. She identified the most efficient and successful course of action and she did not deviate. "You should do as I say. Period."
His expression went stony at her sudden outburst. "Not going to happen, Brennan." For a moment there, he actually thought she was willing to be reasonable, but it seemed she was determined to fight him every step of the way. "Deal with it."
For nearly an hour they went at it. She called him intransigent, arrogant, and foolish. He threw words like inflexible and uncompromising right back at her. She was determined to control every minute of his day; her way of minimizing risk. He was adamant in his refusal; his way of maintaining some control when it felt increasingly like he had none.
Finally, they arrived at a compromise over the six scheduled events, but the fifty-fifty split left them both equally unsatisfied.
Booth agreed to cancel three of the commitments on his schedule and resented it bitterly. When he gave his word, he kept it and it pissed him off that some faceless psychopath had forced him into this situation.
Brennan had to be satisfied with the three events he agreed to cancel, but was already thinking of all the nightmare security scenarios on the three he was still planning to attend. Had she believed in a higher power, she would have been tempted to pray for the apprehension of his would-be assassin before any of Booth's public appearances, especially that damn moot court competition. He'd explained how the final round judging would go and it was giving her a headache just thinking about him on that mock courtroom, presenting a ridiculously tempting target.
"I've been informed that you jog around the block every morning at 6am," she tackled head on what Brennan knew would be—at least for the moment—the final point of contention. "Not anymore. You have a gym in this house. Use it."
He visibly bristled at her words and even Brennan realized maybe she should have employed some tact. But out of her many skills, tact really wasn't one of them. She was blunt to a fault, a flaw that had created some problems for her in the past.
Booth almost couldn't believe the things that would sometimes come out of her mouth. He seriously wondered if there was any filter between her genius brain and those gorgeous lips of hers. She didn't ask, she demanded and she did it with absolutely no delicacy whatsoever. It was driving him up the wall and for two very different reasons.
On the one hand, her whole I-tell-you-what-to-do-and-you'd-better-obey attitude automatically chafed, especially since he was usually the one laying down the rules and expecting obedience. He'd been a judge for a long time and he ruled his courtroom fairly, but without allowing any of the nonsense and theatrics in which lawyers often liked to indulge.
But … oh damn, he couldn't stop wondering how that attitude of hers would translate to the bedroom. It was utterly inappropriate, Booth knew, but he just couldn't help it.
Would she be this bossy and assertive in bed?
The question popped into his mind every time she demanded something, which was pretty much every five minutes. Her attitude annoyed him and turned him on at the same time and the contradiction was making him crazed.
He figured, even if he had her wet and panting under him, she would still be trying to boss him around. Probably demanding he get her off in that husky voice of hers. But the truth was that if he ever got her in his bed, Booth honestly wouldn't care what her bossy self demanded of him because he'd give her whatever the hell she wanted. He'd touched her wherever she liked to be touched, he'd make her come however she wanted, however many times she wanted it.
Holy crap, he was hard just thinking about it.
Swallowing dryly, Booth tried to concentrate on her latest demand. "Have you ever tried asking for something?" he questioned, desperately hoping she couldn't detect the husky undertone to his voice.
"Booth, I don't want to fight anymore," she said suddenly, her voice incredibly soft. "I know you hate all these restrictions and it's not your fault, I know, but you have to let me do my job. Please, just listen to me."
He stared in surprise. Her eyes were earnest and her voice sounded nearly tired and the combination automatically softened him. Because it did so, he was immediately suspicious. Whereas before he had been more than willing to put up a fight on the issue, her words had him ready to capitulate almost instantly and it made him wonder if she was playing him.
Did she know that soft voice would get to him? Did she know fighting had just about plummeted on the list of things he wanted to do with her? He tried to read her, but her eyes looked completely guileless.
"All right," he gave in, figuring if this was an act, it was Oscar worthy. "No morning jogs." His sigh was heartfelt. "That one hurts, you know. I hate running on that damn treadmill. It's so boring."
Brennan's lips quirked at the admission, his little boy pout prompting her to offer, "I'll keep you company." His surprised look immediately made her want to backtrack. "I mean, if you want. Not that my presence will make it any less boring as I'm not particularly amusing. Perhaps you can listen to music or something—"
"Brennan …" he interrupted the rushed words, surprised yet again since he could actually detect a slight flush to her cheeks. "I'd love the company."
"I also dislike using gym equipment to exercise," she commiserated. "I find it quite monotonous."
"Hey, look at that, we have something in common." Booth knew her confession meant some kind of truce and he was more than happy to accept the peace offering. "So, if you don't like the gym, then what do you do?"
"Hand to hand combat," she answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
"No kidding?" He chuckled a little. Why did it not surprise him that her preferred method of exercise involved kicking someone's ass. "You know what, I can spar with you. Since you're keeping me company on the treadmill and all."
"That wouldn't be very fair."
"All right, I'm going to ignore the clear blow to my ego," he said good-naturedly, not for a moment foolish enough to believe she meant it wouldn't be very fair to her. "No, I'm serious. I've been out of the army for a while, but I'm pretty sure I can hold my own."
"Very well." The look she gave him told Booth that she fully expected to wipe the floor with him. "I will be careful not to damage you."
"Those are fighting words," he grinned, her blatant confidence utterly exhilarating and oh so arousing. "Game on, doc."
-x-
p.s. I hate to promise because I can't be sure, but I really will try to update much sooner with next chapter.
