IIV. A Craving

Summer deepened while Temperance Brennan's life changed simultaneously to her body. She was approaching the end of the first trimester of her pregnancy, the crucial line, and while she brushed her teeth one uneventful Thursday morning, she wondered about lines.

Once there had been a line Booth had drawn. It had said, "You may not have sex with your partner." Then there had been another line, this one even more invisible, engraved into her heart. It had whispered, "You may not risk losing him." In a night where life had met death they had crossed those lines, and soon, way too soon she had found herself in a hospital restroom waiting for a line to appear.

The end of her pregnancy's first trimester was just another line, just another milestone but lines... Brennan had learned that, in the end, they only have the meaning you concede to them.

Rinsing her mouth, she smiled at Booth's reflection in the mirror. He had manifested next to her with tousled hair, reaching for his toothbrush. The one he owned in her apartment was green. Hers in his bathroom was yellow. Those little, mundane details... to her they would forever be evidence of something big.

Another line she had crossed.

She was in love. And was building herself a life around it.

"You wanna meet for lunch?" he muttered while spitting out, and she nodded.

She, him, it was so breathtakingly wonderful in its ordinariness.

"Sure."

"I could bring those veggie burgers you love so much."

"I'd prefer beetroot soup."

He twisted his face.

"Uh, Baby, that's gross. As much as I love you and this mini you, you have to work on your cravings."

She laughed.

"Sorry, I cannot help it. So far your child chooses vegetables over meat."

"You're jinxing her."

"I wouldn't know how."

Grabbing her by her waist, he pulled her close. These days she felt heavier in his arms, and Booth enjoyed it immensely.

"Hmm," he mused, pecking her lips. "Maybe you're blackmailing her. 'Crave gross food or I'll detach you from my bloody circulation.'"

"Blood circulation."

"Whatever."

Her arms wrapped themselves around his back, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled like intimacy in the morning, still warm from sleep.

"I would never blackmail our child. He wants meat, he'd get meat. Vegetarianism should be a free choice."

"Have I told you lately how wonderful you feel?" he murmured, showering her neck with kisses.

With a sigh she tilted her head to give him better access.

"Every day," she answered because it was the truth.

Every day he told her, how much she meant to him, in words or unspoken, every day she felt beautiful because of him, every day was special... because he was there.

"It cannot be said often enough. You're beautiful. Wonderful. Hot. Mine."

She laughed.

"Possessive pronouns don't count as adjectives."

"Any objections?" he asked, nibbling her skin.

Her body began to react to his caresses, and she shook her head. In fact, Brennan had gotten quite attached to possessive pronouns herself.

"No... Don't stop."

Using his free hand, Booth loosened the tie of her robe, his hand roaming over silky white skin. His mouth captured her rosy lips in a kiss that tasted like him and toothpaste. As always, she poured everything into her kiss – once Temperance Brennan had committed herself to something, she'd do it with undivided focus – and placing her on the vanity and settling between her smooth thighs happened in one swift motion.

He knew her, he knew her intimately, but Booth was perfectly sure that he would never get enough of the sensation of her soft tongue in his mouth, of her responding body in his arms. His hand slid down her sides, skimming her belly before settling on her hip.

"I can feel the difference," he murmured between kisses, and she chuckled.

"Are you implying that I'm fat?"

"Hmm... let me feel again."

His fingers tickled over her soft belly, setting her ablaze, and desire was pooling deep inside of her. She had just had him last night, slowly and sensually, but Brennan felt that she craved him again. Only a few months ago Angela had complained – well, she hadn't exactly used that word – about her increased sexual appetite, and Brennan mused that it wasn't exactly wise to get pregnant during the honeymoon period of a relationship... because... the desire to crawl into Booth? It had changed, but not stopped.

His hands on her became the center of her world, and just when he lowered his head to suck the very sensitive peak of her breast, a sonorous ringing interrupted her sweet ache.

"Nooooo," she groaned, and his head fell to her shoulder with a gasp.

"Agreed."

"Maybe you don't have to answer it?"

"Temperance Brennan, a crime scene could be compromised."

She sighed.

"I know. It's just... they're already dead. I'm alive."

He chuckled.

"Hormones speaking again?"

"Maybe," she admitted reluctantly.

He gave her a last passionate kiss before hurrying away to answer the call. Brennan sighed in defeat, closing her robe. Her body was tingling in a way that would be pleasant if they could go back to bed. However, work was not on the list of her favorite places to be right now.

Booth came back a few moments later, the traitorous phone still in his hand.

"A case?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"Worse."

"What could be worse than murder?"

"Meeting with Hacker."

Not even a flinch betrayed her feelings.

"Andrew is a very nice man."

"A very nice man who has dated my woman."

"We never had sex."

"Nonetheless."

"I never loved him."

"Still."

"Will you ever forgive me?" she asked, suddenly serious, and he took in her tousled early morning beauty.

It was for him, just for him. He was the only one allowed to see her like this, to know this side of her. Closing the distance to her in two long strides, he took her in his arms.

"I already have. It's just... he knows about the eggs. And you're mine."

Stroking his back, she tried to soothe him with her mere presence.

"I know. Are we still up for lunch?"

"Absolutely."

-BONES-

Lunchtime came and went by without a sign of Booth in the Jeffersonian. She tried to call his cell once, but it went straight to voicemail. Bound and determined not to be a clinging girlfriend – even though she still disliked the term – Brennan wrote him a text message and ordered herself a cucumber-mushroom sandwich. She enjoyed it immensely. Booth would have called it disgusting.

She spent most of the day in her office, working on an article, but as opposed to her usual ability to lose herself in science, Brennan found it quite hard to concentrate today. She felt flushed somehow, and whenever she moved and the satiny fabric of her cream-colored tunic shirt tautened around her full breasts, it sent tingles of... something through her body, centering low in her belly, meeting the colony of butterflies which was fluttering there.

More than once did she curse the phone call which had interrupted their amorous activities earlier that day. His kiss had tasted so good, his skin had been so warm, so smooth...

Rubbing her temples with a sigh, Brennan tried to focus on the words on her computer screen, as an energetic voice interrupted her musings.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Looking up, Brennan found the tall silhouette of her boss lingering in the door frame.

"Dr. Saroyan, how can I help you?"

"I just got a call from Dr. Goodman. As you might now, he's currently working in Peru."

Brennan nodded.

"I know, he emailed me a few weeks ago. The project is about the cave paintings of an ancient mountain tribe."

"Yes. Apparently they stumbled upon some very valuable remains, and he demands your expertise."

"I am not willing to travel to Peru right now."

Cam waved it off.

"Neither am I willing to let you go. He ships them to us. So, be prepared for some very old bones coming your way."

Brennan nodded, relieved that she didn't have to explain why exactly she didn't want to travel.

"Sure. I can do that."

Cam rubbed her hands.

"Fine."

Apparently, their conversation was over, but Cam didn't move and regarded her coworker curiously.

"Is there something else, Dr. Saroyan?"

"I don't know. You look feverish somehow. And your eyes... they are glassy. Aren't you feeling well?"

'I'm fine,' was about to tumble out of her mouth, but Brennan stopped herself.

"I feel... kind of hot and dizzy."

It wasn't technically a lie.

"That doesn't sound good. Any other symptoms?"

"My stomach is a little bit queasy."

"Maybe you're coming up with a flu. You should go home and stay in bed for the rest of the day."

Brennan was torn, really torn as the duteous scientist and the hormone-ruled woman fought inside of her, but Cam misinterpreted her reluctance.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm your boss after all. Go home. It's an order."

Brennan shrugged, as if in defeat.

"If you insist on it..."

"I do. Feel better soon. And if you need something, call me," Cam offered, walking on the uncommon ground of friendship.

It wasn't as if she didn't like Temperance Brennan, but sometimes it was just so hard to set aside everything they were and had been. Brennan's gaze softened, and Cam was almost surprised.

"Thank you. It might not be necessary, though."

"Should I call Booth?"

Something like caution flickered through the other woman's eyes.

"Why should you do that?" Brennan asked carefully.

Cam shrugged.

"Well, it looks as if the two of you have been able to rebuild your friendship. You seem to be kind of close again. I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries."

Brennan gave her boss an incredulous gaze, and Cam waved dismissively.

"Yes, you're right, scratch the last sentence."

"I might call Booth myself."

"Do that. I'm leaving now."

"I'm not stopping you."

Shaking her head in confusion, Cam turned around on her heels. Even after all those years and despite the sincere fondness she harbored for her coworker, Cam still found her kind of intimidating at times. There was something about her posture, something about the way her brain worked... however, Cam didn't find it hard to understand at all, why one sturdy FBI agent had fallen for those blue eyes such a long time ago. Lost in musings, she forgot to wonder how easy it had been to send Dr. Temperance Brennan home in the middle of a work day.

4 pm that afternoon found Brennan in the FBI shooting range. She had tried the Hoover first, but Booth's office had been empty. One of the other agents – Charley? Carlos? – had told her about a four hours meeting and an argument between Booth and Hacker. Knowing Booth, the gun range was the next logical choice, and she spotted him almost immediately.

His body was cocked like a weapon itself, and he radiated a dark kind of strength mingled with fury. Watching him, Brennan was surprised by a rush of weakness in her stomach, and she inhaled deeply, as she felt moisture pooling between her legs.

He was always so gentle, so fondly with her, and this darker side of him was one she hadn't witnessed in quite a while. She knew that he was strong, that there was an angry kind of passion as well. Usually it was hidden underneath warm eyes and a cocky smile, but right now... right now it was unleashed.

Brennan watched him open-mouthed, her eyes fever-bright, her breathing labored, her cheeks hot. She felt like a primeval female who had stumbled upon the alpha male in hunting mode, and when he turned around, as if sensing her presence, she became his prey.

Their gazes met, and blue pierced into brown, as, for one wild heartbeat, they were naked in front of each other. Then the riots in his dark orbs calmed, as he rebuilt his walls of caution, and Brennan hurried to approach him, raising her hand to touch his arm.

"Don't," she demanded, and he regarded her with ire and confusion.

"You don't have to hide," she murmured, and he growled.

"I'm pissed, but it isn't your fault."

"I know, but maybe I could help to relief your tension."

He laughed bitterly.

"How so? I want to punch or shoot something. Preferably Hacker."

"What about sex?" she asked seriously, and he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Sex? Really? Well, I guess I could take you to the old ammo room, lift your skirt and take you right against the wall. But, oh, wait a moment, you're my pregnant woman who I love and respect," he exclaimed in something which – even to her ears – sounded like irony.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm so much more than only your pregnant woman. Where's that room?"

"No, forget it, Bones."

Now he was mad again, but this time it was directed at her. Brennan tilted her head, and her rosy tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

"You're doing that on purpose," he growled, and she just shrugged, peeling off his clothes with her gaze.

"Take me to that room," she demanded. "And then... take me. Right against the wall."

He took her hand almost harshly, and she was walking on dizziness, as she followed him. A door opened, closed again, and then they were captured in darkness.

"This is so wrong," he uttered right before his lips crashed onto hers in a kiss that was as consuming as the fire which burned inside of her.

"It cannot be wrong when we both want it," she managed to reason, but then she lost herself in the sensation, as passion turned into another kind of passion.

Moans and the musky scent of desire filled the abandoned room, and soon her nimble fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until, finally, his smooth and hard flesh was bare for her to touch. He simply lifted her tunic shirt over her head and lost no time before his wet mouth closed over her bra-clad nipple. Her cry was muffled by his hair, and Brennan spread her legs as far as the skirt allowed, pulling him between her thighs. She could feel the cold metal of his cocky belt buckle and, right below it, another kind of hardness.

"Yes," she breathed, her head falling back. It hit the wall with a low thump, and, immediately, his hand snapped up to cup her nape.

Brennan smiled into the darkness, reveling in this tiny gesture of protection. As much as she loved him, she knew the loud call of biological imperatives. But a simple moment of considerateness, like his hand supporting her head without even thinking about it, told her that they could never have just sex; it would always be woven with love. She didn't need the reassurance, but she knew that he might need it later, and so she filed the information away.

Tugging at his head, she demanded his lips anew, and he kissed her until she couldn't breathe anymore, until the rhythm of his tongue dueling with hers mimicked the throbbing between her legs. Squirming, she tried to get even closer to him, and he groaned at the additional friction.

"More," she gasped, and he inhaled a shuddered breath, as he lifted her skirt in one swift motion.

His hand brushed her belly in the process, and he faltered, his resolve crumbling.

"Please, I want you," she added, and after another fierce kiss she turned around in his arms, bracing herself on the wall.

Her buttocks were pressed into his aching groins, and Booth was overwhelmed by strange dizziness. Her scent was calling out to him, so female, so familiar, so intoxicating. Lowering himself, he wrapped his arms around her, his lips landing on her shoulder blade. His fingers moved down her body, finally slipping into her panties, meeting her slick heat. So warm. So wet. For him, it was all for him.

She whimpered, as he touched her, grazed and caressed her in the way she liked, tapping her oversensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of one finger.

"Inside me. Now," she uttered, and he curved one long finger to dip into her core.

A whimper escaped her lips, but it was partly born out of frustration.

"You know what I mean. Now, Booth, or I'll give you a reason to be really mad."

His anger was long forgotten, replaced by a different kind of pressure, and without further delay he opened belt buckle and zipper, pulling down his clothes. Pragmatic as always, Brennan had already lowered her panties, and when he reached for her, he found nothing but soft and naked skin. His cock twitched at the prospect of being buried deep inside of her, and she felt it against her flesh, opening her legs even wider in silent response.

Aligning himself, Booth took a deep breath to regain some of his composure.

"I love you," he growled.

"I know," she answered.

Then he thrust forward in one long stroke. Home. And heaven. Her silky muscles gripped him immediately, and his moan was carried away by her own.

"Oh God..."

"Yes..."

They rocked together – as always – and she met his every stroke. He was moving between her legs, sliding in and out of her, and every reasonable thought left her as she was filled by wicked delight. This was exactly what she had needed, and it was a fortunate coincidence that it happened to be just what he needed as well. Even though she had had to convince him.

Friction was building rapidly, and she tilted her pelvis to take him in deeper. He stretched her perfectly, and being connected with him was the most exquisite feeling ever. Grabbing her hips, Booth pulled her closer and closer and closer into his body. One hand moved around her, diving between her legs, and when he brushed her clit with his callous forefinger – the one he used to fire a weapon – she lost it, and suddenly the dark room was filled by dazzling light. Metaphorically speaking.

She arched her back and went rigid in his arms, and Booth held her and caught her, as he pistoned into her over and over again until his own being was swept away by liquid heat. With a gasp he emptied himself into her welcoming body, right before collapsing on her bent back.

Darkness covered their overheated bodies, darkness swallowed their ragged breathings. When he could move again, Booth slid out of her, turning her around in his arms, enveloping her completely. Her arms tightened around him, giving just as much as she accepted. Their lips met in a kiss that betrayed their frantic coupling with its tenderness

"This was long overdue," she murmured eventually.

"The gun range?"

"Yes. Remember that fight we had here? In the very beginning?"

"Every second of it."

Be a cop... She had challenged him like no one else had ever done, and he could still see her young face, her red lips. He had cornered her, but she had stood her ground, and the air between them had crackled with electricity. Oh, yes, he had already wanted her back then.

"Take me home, Booth."

-BONES-

They managed to leave the shooting range on wobbly legs, slightly disheveled but unseen, and when they arrived at home half an hour later – his place this time – she lost no time to change into cozy yoga pants and one of his shirts.

"I'm going to bed," she announced upon coming out of the bathroom, and he arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"At five o'clock?"

"Cam sent me home, suggesting bed rest. Apparently, I'm coming down with a flu."

"A flu? Are you okay?"

"I was a little bit hot and distracted today."

"Hot and distracted?"

"I doubt it was a flu, though, but the prospect of leaving work early was quite appealing. Are you coming?"

"Yep. I'll just grab a quick shower beforehand."

Ten minutes later he joined her on the bed, a bowl of ice cream and two spoons in his hands. Her mouth watered immediately, and for a few minutes the cold sweetness demanded their full attention. Finally the events of the day came back.

"What happened during your meeting?"

Lost in thoughts, Booth pondered his answer. In retrospective it was ridiculous, nothing even.

"Hacker happened. He did the peacock thing you once described."

"Alpha males battling for dominance?"

"I think so. Of course it doesn't help when there is a certain female peacock in the picture."

Her face saddened.

"Booth... Do you know why I went out with him in the first place?"

"Not really."

"Because it was easy. He didn't mean the world to me... like you. With Andrew, there was nothing to lose."

"You went out with my boss because you loved me too much?"

She frowned.

"Put like this, it sounds weird, even though it felt reasonable back then. He was never important to me, Booth, never. You have to believe me. You're my only peacock."

His heart melted until it was as soft as the ice cream residues in their bowl. Only warmer, so much warmer.

"I'm very happy to be your peacock. Bones... I'm sorry about earlier. I've been so angry and I shouldn't touch you when I feel like that."

"Your hand."

"What?"

"Even though you were angry, you lifted your hand to protect my head when it hit the wall. I noticed it. You could never hurt me, never. Not even in your darkest moments of anger. With you, I always feel cherished. Besides, I was the one luring you into that room."

He crawled to her for a soft and sticky kiss.

"You are amazing, Baby."

"I know. But you are very amazing yourself."

More kisses were shared, and after a while they tasted less like ice cream and more like Booth. Brennan opened her arms for him, accepting his tenderness just like she had accepted his unrestrained passion.

She let him make love to her, sweetly and slowly, because she knew that he needed it for his cosmic balance sheet. And because she needed it as well.

-BONES-

Her "flu" disappeared miraculously overnight, and Friday morning found Temperance Brennan back to her usual professional self. The remains Dr. Goodman had sent piqued her interest, and she worked in concentration until a familiar voice called her name. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that it was indeed time for lunch.

"Bones?"

"I'm here."

He manifested in the door frame, a smug grin on his face.

"Lunch?"

"I could eat."

"The Diner?"

"Works for me."

The waitress didn't even bother to bring them the menu – a burger for him, soup for her – and soon the two partners enjoyed their meals. A shared plate of fries was standing between them, and every once in a while their greasy fingers met, and she flashed him a cute smile.

She told him about Dr. Goodman's work in Peru, and Booth remembered the former director of the Jeffersonian with fondness. He mentioned the brief elevator talk with Hacker that morning, very professional, no peacock behavior this time, and she poked him affectionately with her foot.

He had ordered pie for dessert, and, as usual, she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the idea of cooked fruit. However, something was different today, and soon the scent of sugary apples mingled with cinnamon hit her nostrils. Her mouth watered, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"I want pie," she stated, and his face lit up in unexpected joy.

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Give it to me."

He pushed the plate in her direction, and she took the fork without hesitation, digging into his dessert. The pie was soft, melting on her tongue. Part of her knew that she should dislike it, but today Brennan couldn't help but savor every sweet drop of apple juice, every last crumble.

Even though he had lost his pie, Booth watched her with profound satisfaction and pride.

"My child wants pie," he finally whispered in awe, and she rolled her eyes.

"You know what? I don't even care how much healthy stuff she wants to have, as long as she loves pie. This is my child, Bones, my child!"

"I know that it is your child."

"Yes, of course, but she is my kid!"

"She or he. And this doesn't make any sense, Booth. It's just pie."

"No, I disagree. Sweets has said it stands for seduction. I don't believe that, but it is most definitely more than just pie."

"I'm glad that I could make you happy by stealing your dessert."

He nodded enthusiastically, and she thought it was quite cute but found it wise not to tell him.

"We should go back to work."

"Your mummies are that interesting?"

"Very much so."

"'Mummies and murders' – that could be the title of our story, Bones."

"Our story?"

"Yeah, you know, for a book maybe."

"I believe-"

They would never know what she believed because that moment an elderly man slipped onto the chair next to her.

"Dad!"

"Tempe. Booth."

"What are you doing here, Max?"

"Dropping by, saying hello."

"You don't do that, Dad. Are you in trouble?"

"Well, I've been thrown out of my bowling team thanks to your little charade, but apart from this, I'm fine. I'm leaving for LA tomorrow, a job thing."

"A job thing? Don't believe I wouldn't arrest you just because your daughter is my... partner."

Max chuckled.

"Why should I? Didn't stop you the first time. Relax, it's a consultant job. For a movie about bank robbers."

Brennan watched him with mouth agape.

"Reaping the benefits of your criminal past? This is so wrong."

"Ah, well, it could be fun. I have to go now. By the way, congrats on the baby. Both of you."

For a man with a cane, Max Keenan moved quite smoothly, and he was out of the Diner before the two partners had been able to gather their jaws from the floor. They regarded each other with dumbness.

"That was weird."

"Well, that was my father."

"You aren't worried how he found out?"

"I decided a long time ago not to think too hard about Max' sources."

"At least he didn't threaten to kill me."

"He would never do that, he knows how important you are to me. I think he was aware of it right from the beginning."

"Now he knows."

"Yes, he knows."

They gazes met and held until they dropped simultaneously to her hidden belly. She was thirteen weeks pregnant, and their baby had the size of a shrimp – a fact that amused and pleased her deeply. It was time to tell the world.

To be continued...