Title: Pulse Point
Pairing: B/B
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Up to the He in the She
Summary: Two things you note upon waking. One, you are precariously close to the edge of the bed. Two, Bones is a cuddler.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Last chap before the epilogue. Hope it works out for you all. I liked writing this one much more than the last one. I aimed for realism with this chapter. The whole story has been relatively angst-ridden, so I gave our OTP some love in this. Enjoy! And thank y'all for taking the time to review, it sure means a lot.
-+-+-+-+-+
Terrified would be the adequate word to describe your feelings at the current moment. Not really terrified, maybe more apprehensive than terrified. But the frantic beating of your heart in your chest suggests otherwise.
The elevator crawls slower than a quadruple amputee and you wonder if it is conspiring with traffic in order to impede your progress over here. Finally the doors spread and you walk down the hall towards her door, knowing that you could break it down if necessary.
Instead, you settle for a steady knock and run your hand through your hair as you take a deep breath. No answer. You try not to think the worst, but you can't help it. She's doing exactly what you feared - avoiding you. Steeling yourself, you knock once more, this time a bit harder.
Not more than two seconds later does the door open to reveal a very pale, very clammy, very ill looking Bones. Immediately concern overwhelms you as you take in her appearance, marveling at the drastic transformation. You'd seen her only four hours ago, and she looked very… not deathlike.
"Bones, what the? What happened?" you shut the door as you follow her towards a place you've only dreamed about: her bedroom. She has on running shorts and a dark tank top that allow you ample opportunity to admire her floor-to-ceiling legs and toned arms. Shaking your head, you watch as she goes into her bathroom and shuts the door in your face.
"Bones?"
The sound of retching makes you even more nervous and you can't decide whether or not to push the door open. You opt to remain outside, knowing that she shut it for a reason and if she wanted you in there, she'd have let you in.
The toilet flushes and you hear sounds of a faucet running and realize she's brushing her teeth. Then you hear her gargling and the faucet running once again. She comes out, patting her face with her towel and she frowns at the concerned look on your face.
"It's not that bad. Apparently I'm allergic to the antibiotic I was prescribed."
"What? Why are you on antibiotics?"
"Without my spleen I run a greater risk for infection. I've been running a low-grade fever the last few days with all the stress of our case and being out in the woods. My physician advised that I take the antibiotic just to be safe. Unfortunately, this is my first time with ampicillin."
"Do you want me to get you anything? Why didn't you call me?"
"We never established any set plans for this evening. I went for a jog at the gym, started to feel ill and came home. I've been in the bathroom ever since."
"Oh. So you weren't avoiding my calls?"
"Why would I avoid your calls?"
"Because you don't want to…" you aren't sure how to phrase this without coming across as a callous jerk. "Maybe because you're starting to change your mind."
The look of disappointment crosses her face and you feel ashamed. She moves away from you and goes to her dresser, pulling out a fleece pullover. Turning around, she leans back against the dresser and crosses her arms.
"You thought I was running from you?"
"I thought that maybe you were beginning to rethink what happened and we haven't really had an opportunity to talk about everything, so I was uneasy because I didn't know where I stood."
You want to say more, but she looks really pale and you think this conversation should occur when she can truly hold her own. Not waiting for a rebuttal, you walk over to her and wrap her up in a careful hug, not wanting to jostle her. She's tense and unforgiving against you, but you can feel the sheer fatigue coming off her in waves.
"I can't talk about this right now," she whispers into your chest, her arms still crossed.
"I understand. How about you lie down for a while? I'll get you some water and maybe some crackers?"
"I don't know about the food yet. But I think there's a Gatorade on the second shelf, if you don't mind," she says this softly as you pull the covers from her queen size bed and watch her fold her endless legs under the sheets.
"No problem, I'll be right back."
In the kitchen, you fill a glass with the obnoxious colored drink and take a second to calm your nerves. You're not sure if you feel relief or shame. Relief because she wasn't calling you due to being sick, or shame because you feel relief at that being the reason. As you walk back into her room you can't tell if she's already asleep, so you place the glass quietly on her nightstand.
Pulling the covers up over her shoulders, you place a kiss in her hair and prepare to head back to her living room, but you hear her call your name softly. Walking back, you kneel on the floor beside the bed.
"Yeah, Bones?"
"Stay," she says, it's not a command, nor is it a request. It just is.
"I am," you say as you brush some hair out of her face. "I'll just wait for you in the living room."
"No, stay here," she says it in a voice and manner that seems foreign to her. And you recognize the vulnerability in her words. You nod in understanding and remove your shoes and coat, draping it over the large, comfy reading chair in the corner. You climb on top of the covers, not wanting to make her too uncomfortable and begin to rub her back, unknowingly mirroring her actions with your son a few weeks prior.
Her soft breathing gives way to more labored breaths and you know she's asleep. Taking the opportunity to explore your new environment, you peer around the room curiously. There's a large painting on the opposite wall that isn't wholly awful like some of her other relics, so you can at least appreciate that. The room is neat and organized, the walls decorated by various pictures and artifacts. Looking on the nightstand, you see a picture of her with her dad and brother at a dinner table on a pier. Russ' arm is draped over her shoulder while she's got her arm interlinked with her father's. Knowing that you took a small part in bringing her family back together warms your heart greatly.
Another picture on her nightstand is of her 'work family' after a barbecue this past spring. Hodgins and Angela were still together then, Zack wasn't guilty of murder, and you weren't dead. It was a good evening and you remember more than one occasion feeling the desire to pull her under a weeping willow and kiss her senseless. The picture was taken by Zach and it's got Bones and Angela hugging and laughing while you sit between Angela and Hodgins, apparently shaking you head, laughing while you both clink beers. You look closer at the picture and realize Bone's is looking at you in the shot, but it's more than that, it's the look she has in her eyes that keeps your gaze.
A thought rushes into your mind that makes you want to examine the past few months. How long has she had feelings for you? Feelings that are easy enough to see in an otherwise benign picture?
A visible shiver coming from your partner breaks you from your thoughts and you inch down the bed, sliding up behind her. You wrap your arms around her carefully and take a slow, deep breath. She smells like sweat and traces of perfume, but it's still her, still the same comforting scent that claims your senses every time she's near. The steady rhythm of her breathing lulls you into a daze even though you aren't tired. Before you know it, you've fallen asleep wrapped around her body like a blanket.
Two things you note upon waking. One, you are precariously close to the edge of the bed. Two, Bones is a cuddler. Throughout the course of your combined nap, you'd rolled onto your back with your hand tucked beneath your head. Somehow, she'd managed to inch you over to the edge of the bed and then curl up tightly beside you, almost as though she could drown beneath the sea of covers.
As much as you don't want to wake the softly snoring ball emanating from the depths within, you settle for rubbing the small part of her back in an attempt to claim your arm, which she is using as a pillow. At least you think that's what she's doing.
Soon after, she starts to wake. Surprisingly, she's very slow in her movements. First she pulls her flushed, damp head from the covers, next she stretches languorously, and then she takes a long, deep yawn. Her fever must have broken during the nap, because you feel the heat coming off her like she was in a sauna. She's still a little out of it as she slowly looks over at you, clearly confused by your presence.
"Booth?" her voice is scratchy as she squints at you through the dark.
"Yes?" you're trying to wake up the dead arm you have beside you. It is not at all comfortable.
"You're in my bed."
"Actually, I'm on top of your bed per your request."
"Oh," she says without debate. "What time is it?"
"It's eleven at night."
"We slept for 4 hours?" her eyes get saucer-like. You can't help but smile.
"Yes, yes we did. Are you hungry?"
She shakes her head firmly as she pulls her arms out and lays them beside her on the covers. Finally, she picks up her head and observes your close proximity to the edge.
"You could have asked me to scoot over."
"Ha! Has anyone told you that you're a hard sleeper?"
"No, what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I could have brought a marching band in here for warm-ups and you wouldn't have budged a bit."
"I disagree, I tend to be a light sleeper."
"Well, not when you don't feel good."
A hunger pang strikes you for the second time in ten minutes. She may not be hungry, but you sure are.
"I need food. Soon. I may eat my hand."
"That wouldn't be a good idea. There is very little meat on your hand and it is much more valuable as a tool than satisfying your hunger."
"Ah, there's my Bones. Come on, you need to get up, get rehydrated."
She rises slowly from bed, first to a sitting position and then fully standing. Her pullover is crooked and her shorts are wrinkled, but she looks so damn cute. After pulling her very damp hair up, she goes into the bathroom while you slip on your shoes and return to the kitchen. You fill a glass of water and place it on the counter for when she comes out. Before pulling out the phone book, you rustle through her cabinets, but aren't successful. All her food is too healthy. You need something that has at least 5 grams of saturated fat. You settle on Indian food and jot down a short list as she emerges from her hallway.
"Do you think you could handle some naan? That shouldn't be too rough on you," you ask as she climbs on a stool behind the counter, sipping from the glass you left her.
"I guess so," she seems both tired and contemplative and you can't tell if she wants you to leave or not.
"Maybe I should go," you say suddenly and she looks up at you in surprise. Some of the color has returned to her cheeks, but she still doesn't look one hundred percent.
"What? No, you can stay and eat," she paused to take a sip. "Besides, you said we needed to talk about," her fingers shifted between you both in uncertainty, "this."
"I don't really know if we should though, in your current state and everything."
She huffs out a breath and reaches over to her phone, plucking it from the cradle and pushing it towards you to make your call. Tipping your head in thanks, you dial up the number and place your order. After returning the phone you notice that Bones isn't sitting on the stool anymore. The sound of the shower running alerts you to her current location.
You grab a beer from the fridge and plop down on the couch, exhaling loudly. Though the whole Thanksgiving holiday was wonderful, the week afterward was absolutely horrible. A four-year-old kid was found in a tree house in the woods up near Baltimore and it took three days to get a solid lead on the case. Not only that, but the entire team was on board for this one, and it involved long hours and more than one heated conversation.
A few times throughout the week you caught her looking at you, her mind elsewhere. She still doesn't know exactly how you feel about her and you know she doubts the sincerity of the kiss you both shared the week before. The conversation that provoked the whole exchange was a little difficult and you're not even sure what made her kiss you.
All you remember was her drawing the conclusion that you had no interest in her, but that your actions confused her sometimes. She wanted you to decide where you stood. Somehow it had gone from you waiting for her realize her own feelings to you being the one at fault. You were no where near prepared to hash out your feelings in the diner, especially when she still seemed to think that you weren't even attracted to her. Then she just planted one on you, much to your delight.
The days before that must have tipped her off though, especially when you spent Wednesday night helping her make the pies. It was a great night; you'd gotten an outstanding performance appraisal, which put you in top shape for a promotion. She'd opened up a bottle of red and then another and you both cooked and ate in your typical fashion, but it was different somehow. You were overly playful and she kept you on your toes with her unusually sarcastic (let's face it, she's no good with sarcasm) comments. As you leaned over and kissed her goodbye on the cheek with your hand on her waist, you didn't even think about breaking taboo, until you pulled away and saw the mildly surprised look in her eyes.
The next day you were cloaked in an Eagles sweatshirt and had on your lucky boxers, silently cursing your brother every time you thought of the prime seating he had at the game. Because Bones had the nicest place, everyone assembled at her house, and you smiled at seeing her whole family together. Russ kept you company on her couch, supporting you and your team as you both watched the game with fervor on her amazingly huge plasma. You remember going with her to the store when she just pointed at the premium one with the couch set up in front of it. Must be nice to be able to put down a chunk of change and not think twice. Max would wander over occasionally, but he tended to sit at the counter talking with Amy and Bones in the kitchen while watching the girls color at the table.
More than one occasion Bones happened to look over and caught you watching her, but she never blushed or turned away. She simply smiled that dangerous smile she had and kept on about her business. High off the Eagles win, your cheer was infections as you all ate from the delicious spread. Dinner was incredible, you offered to watch Amy's girls if she'd cook for you, which earned you smiles and a pointed look or two. Afterward the whole family piled into Amy's van and you all went for a walk on the Mall, where you and Bones argued over where the best ice cream place was – much to everyone's amusement.
The pies were fantastic, if you do say so yourself, and there was nary a crumb left to lick from the pans. Everyone helped clean up and settled down to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. The girls climbed all over Bones to watch the show and you could tell that even though she was overwhelmed, she enjoyed the love they lavished on her.
After they all left, you helped her bring the glasses into the kitchen and thanked her for inviting you, telling her you were glad she finally got to have a family and not be that person. She'd been standing beside you leaning against the counter and nudged you playfully as she bent her head in thought.
"I wouldn't have any of this, if it wasn't for you," she said quietly, sadly. You balked at the comment and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, disagreeing with her. She pushed off from the counter and turned to you with a look in her eyes you still can't define. It was then that you began to think that you could get away with kissing her and not die afterward. You didn't though. Settling for another soft kiss on the cheek, you said your goodbyes and retreated home.
Friday drove you crazy because you were off work and bored and you couldn't get her out of your head to save your life. It was worse than normal. The preceding day had been so overwhelmingly domestic that you felt out of place in your own home. You had nothing to do until your hockey match later that evening so you headed to the bar and watched another football game with your neighbor who was escaping his in-laws.
By Saturday afternoon, even Parker's impending arrival couldn't help your state. You dropped by the lab and found her elbow deep in limbo, parsing together what looked to be unidentifiable remains. When she couldn't tell you the last time she ate, you dragged her to the diner, if only to be with her instead of thinking of her. Though she mentioned she was having dinner with Max, she still had a salad and sipped on her chocolate milkshake while you told her about your game. Then she dropped that doozy about lines and wondered what was going on between you both.
The kiss.. wow. You hadn't been expecting it, but when you finally had a taste of her, you couldn't get enough. She was absolutely intoxicating, drawing you in with each touch, each kiss, each smile against your lips. When you finally separated, you could hardly remember what day it was until you realized you had five minutes to get over to Rebecca's. It was the first and only time you wanted to let Rebecca keep your son for the night.
Early Monday morning you took a sip of the coffee from the Jeffersonian break room and grimaced as you walked into Bones' office.
"Ugh, you need to stop letting Jen make the coffee, this is so–" you halted upon entering, mumbling "weak." Catching Bones and Angela deep in conversation you already had one foot turned the opposite direction. Angela had a grin from ear to ear that provoked an immediate eye roll from you.
"You know, I just," you place a hand on your hip in mock contemplation. "I'm just gonna come back in 5 and I want whatever you're talking about to be done and I want that" you pointed your finger in a little circle at Angela, "smile you've got there off your face."
"Mine will come off when yours does," she shot back. Zing.
"Hmph," is all you could say as you threw a quick glance at an unreadable Bones and headed toward the platform.
And that was how much your week had been - small snapshots of glorious potential, surrounded by horror. No time for romantic interludes when two very grief-stricken parents were breathing down your neck with your boss making it very clear the priority of the case.
Before your mind can wander down a dark and lonely road, you find a refreshed looking Bones standing before you. You mourn the loss of her running shorts, traded in for a soft pair of flannel pajama pants and another pullover, the color blue that makes her eyes almost glow. The delivery guy knocks on the door and you give him a twenty while he gives you your delightfully aromatic food. Turning back around, you find yourself a little nervous and you smile to yourself, thinking how crazy things have become.
You follow her into the kitchen to get another beer and to somehow calm your nerves. There is absolutely no reason to feel like you're in high school right now, because that was almost twenty years ago. But as she hands you the bottle opener without you asking and turns towards the cabinet to get you a plate and fork, you're overcome for some odd reason. Popping off the lid, you place the bottle opener beside her on the counter while her back is to you and start to back away, but her cool fingertips on your arm keep you in place.
She's got that indefinable look in her eyes again, and you're starting to wonder if she's had it all along. Moving your hand to her hip, your thumb grazes the soft skin of her stomach, causing her to suck in a breath. Her other hand moves to the side of your face, where she works out your worry lines with a simple brush of her fingertips, then traces your side burns down to your jaw. You watch as she looks down for a moment, her gaze flickering across the fabric lines on your shirt, and feel the coolness of her hand on your face. Her uncertainty matches yours and you know, know it with all your heart and mind, that this is right.
When she looks up again her eyes bounce back and forth between your lips and eyes. She moves in tentatively, without the fire and courage of the last kiss she initiated. You feel a flood of warmth overwhelm your senses as her soft lips part, causing your own to welcome her tongue lavishing light glances on your lips. She tastes like mint and you know she's probably brushed her teeth about five times since her nap, knowing she hates being ill.
As her tongue flicks against yours she glides her fingers through your hair, grazing your neck with her short nails. You moan quietly and move closer to her body, but you can tell this isn't a kiss that will progress any further. It's a tender, dare you say – loving kiss, and she is using it as a thank you. Soon you pull apart and you find that you've wrapped your fingers in her hair and your other hand had climbed up the back of her shirt. She kisses you again, chastely this time and you smile at her actions, kissing her back in turn.
"Booth," she murmurs against you lips.
"Hmmm?"
"I'm pretty sure Indian foot doesn't reheat well."
You pull away and bury your head in the crook of her neck, breathing her in slowly. There is no better smell than a woman freshly out of a shower, unless you too are coming out of that same shower with her. Placing a few feather-light kisses along the nape of her neck, you smile as you feel her grip tighten on the back of your shirt and a sigh escape her lips. Moving up again, you kiss her once more then step away begrudgingly.
Conversation is light as you eat. You don't dwell on anything, and you both briefly touch on what you would have done differently with this case, how you both could work on specific things in the future to make a case involving a child run a little smoother. She eats a little piece of naan, but sticks mostly to her water, nursing it like it's a two hundred dollar glass of top shelf whiskey.
"I don't think we should make a big deal out of this," she says suddenly, and you look up at her quickly. "I mean, I just think that we should take it slowly, so we don't do something that could irrevocably damage our working relationship. I think we can both remain professional at work, and as long as you let me take care of myself, we won't have any problems."
"Woah, what's that supposed to mean? 'Take care of myself'? Do you think I'm going to march around shooting anyone that looks at you funny?"
"No, I just don't want you to interfere or get in the way if a man does something you don't like. You almost punched that officer the other day when he was asking for my number."
"We were at a crime scene!"
"It wasn't our crime scene though, and he was just directing traffic."
"Which he wasn't doing, because he was too busy ogling you," you scoop the rest of the basmati rice into your mouth and set your fork down on the table.
"Regardless. I don't want to see any of that. You know I can handle myself, and that would be the quickest way to make me angry."
You remain silent for a few minutes, trying to think of how you can reign yourself in. You know how men look at her and it bothers you to no end. It always has. Most of the time, she isn't even paying any attention, which makes it ten times worse.
"Fine, I will do my best not to go all alpha-male, but do me a favor and walk around in a trash bag for the rest of your life."
"What?"
You take a long swig of beer and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Shaking your head at her. She's got a bemused look on her face as she studies you. Even now you still don't know what's going on in her head.
"Did you mean it?" you ask as you set your fork down. "What you said last week."
"What? That I think your line was stupid?"
"That, but the part where your feelings had gotten stronger before you left for Uganda."
She's looking at you right now like she's trying to work out a defense in case you shut her down. There isn't any reason to be making her work this hard, but your own selfish heart is wary of getting stomped on.
"Before I left, I had things I wanted to say to you. I don't really know if they would have established anything, though," she's looking down at the runner on her table, tracing the designs with her finger. "But when I was gone, I felt the loss of your presence very distinctly. Everything seemed a little off somehow. I can't really describe it."
"Kind of like you had two left shoes on?"
She contemplates your phrase and nods, pulling her hair back up and away from her face.
"I felt the same way."
Her arms are crossed on the table and the sleepiness is falling back into her eyes. There are things you need to say before you leave here tonight, things she needs to know. You reach across the table and lay your hand on hers, drawing her fingers out and twining them with your own.
"When I started dating Jen, it wasn't to get back at you or anything. There's a reason I hadn't dated anyone in so long, Bones," you take a breath and proceed. "Most of it had to do with you. Even if I went out on a sporadic date, I always found something lacking in my date that brought my mind back to you. Even when Cam and I were together, you were still a constant presence, sort of like this elephant in the room. The only reason Jen and I broke up was that she realized that I'd never be able to give my whole heart to her, and she was right, because it already belongs to you."
Her eyes get big as you say the last part, and even you are a little surprised at your moment of weakness. Man was that sappy. It was more than you wanted to share, but you think she can handle it. You hope at least. She looks mildly afraid, and you start to back peddle a bit, pulling your fingers from hers.
"I mean, I don't, I'm not, whew. I'm going to go now. I think we've talked enough for one evening." You want to be braver than this, but you're not sure your heart can take it. She has the potential to hurt you so badly and you're afraid that even if she didn't try to, she would.
She doesn't say anything as she carries your plate to the sink while you toss your boxes into the trash. After rinsing, she sets the plate in the dishwasher and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. You remember that your jacket is still in her bedroom and frown.
"Uh, my uh, jacket. Left it in your room," you motion that way and she nods, watching as you walk back to her room. When you turn after grabbing it, you see her silhouette as she leans against the door and your heart almost bursts from your chest.
"Jesus! Bones, make some noise next time."
She's walking over to you with her arms crossed like she's a little cold, and you're struck once again by how young she looks, how innocent. She hasn't killed fifty people. She doesn't have their ghosts beating at her door. But she has her own demons though, and that's plenty enough.
"I need you to sit for a minute," she says quietly and you comply, sitting down in her reading chair behind you. She starts pacing a little and her vulnerability, though hidden deep within, shows in her movements.
"You're the reason I'm still alive," she says quickly. You're not sure what to do with that statement, so you remain silent, letting her work out whatever she's got cooped up in that brain of hers.
"There have been several incidents over the past four years in which I've come near death, most of them physical. But, when Hodgins and I were buried alive, even though I didn't quiet understand how I felt, I knew that somehow I needed to get through that, if only to argue with you again. But over the years, it got to be less about what was happening and more about how I was reacting to things."
She stops for a minute and looks at you and you can tell she's trying to remain strong. To not get overwhelmed by all the feelings she is experiencing.
"When you were shot and we all thought you died, I didn't handle it very well. I know Angela told you about me getting rid of everything that reminded me of you. But, it was hard. Really, hard. You're my best friend, and I lost that. When you came back, it was difficult for me to process having you in my life again. Then everything happened with Zach and I had to find a replacement, which was impossible. No matter how busy I got or what happened, I still felt a little out of place, even with you back. So I left, I went to Uganda, thinking that I needed to reconnect with my work; with the reason I became an Anthropologist. It was great for a while, but it wasn't enough. Towards the end of the trip, while I was kidnapped and soon after, all I could think about was trying to survive and to get back here."
She's been taking small steps towards you this whole time and now she's right in front of you. The tie on her pants has been knotted and unknotted frequently by her fingers. Her voice has slowly gotten quieter and softer, 'til now, it's only a whisper that cracks on occasion.
"I wanted to give in so badly. I hurt everywhere and I was so, so tired. But every time I thought it would be my last breath, I heard your voice in my head and you kept telling me that you wouldn't be okay if something happened to me, that you needed me. It's so irrational, when I look back I think I was hallucinating from the drugs they were giving me, but I still remember it."
You lean forward a little and slide your hands up the back of her legs and over her butt, pulling her hips closer to you. Closing your eyes, you settle your forehead on the flat of her stomach right below her breasts and wrap your arms around her waist. She places her hands on your head, combing her long fingers through your hair.
"I came back for you," she whispers as she kisses the top of your head and you've never felt more connected with another person in your life. The pure intimacy of the moment causes you to suck in a deep, shuddering breath. Somehow you manage to pull her into the chair with you, her legs draped across your lap and her head buried between your neck and shoulder. All you do is hug her tightly to you, thanking God for bringing this woman into your life and for all the comfort she provides you.
She walks you to her door a little later with a sleepy smile on her face and you kiss the corner of her lips with a promise for brunch the following morning. Though she rolls her eyes, she grabs your jacket and pulls you in for a deep, breathless kiss and you almost don't leave. But somehow, you muster the willpower to say goodnight and leave with a stupid grin plastered to your face.
-+-+-+-+-+
It's been two weeks and she's leaving for Vancouver in a few days. She thinks it's stupid that she has to go to begin with, but you know a part of her will enjoy seeing her book made into a film. She's to see a rough-cut screening and to assist with the more technical aspects of the script as they film the reshoots. You offer to lend your expertise as well, but her agent doesn't take too kindly to your request.
You have Parker this weekend and though you didn't outright say it, he's somehow figured out that Bones is your girl. It probably had to do something with her coming with you to pick him up from school Friday before you three went out to dinner, but you aren't sure. He played twenty questions with her as you drove to his favorite restaurant, and you couldn't help but smile as he absorbed each new fact like a sponge.
"My son is going to be a squint, isn't he?" you asked her as you held the door open for them.
"If we're lucky, Agent Booth," she said with a smart jab as she followed him in, his hand in hers.
The following night you and Parker show up at her door with popcorn and Charlie Brown's Christmas. She mentioned after Thanksgiving that it was her favorite. Upon seeing it, her eyes light up and you know you're getting an extra long kiss tonight.
Parker is settling down in her living room while she makes some hot chocolate and puts some homemade chocolate-chip cookies on a plate for you three. After tossing Parker a blanket and making sure the fire is providing adequate heat, you slide up behind her in the kitchen. Placing your hands on her hips you lean down and kiss her on the neck and breathe her in, growing somewhat dizzy off the heady feeling you get. Her smile and soft laugh are music to your ears and you can't imagine a better way to spend an evening than with your two favorite people. A debate ensues shortly after over whether whip cream or marshmallows are better in hot chocolate. In the end a truly magnanimous compromise is made when you opt for both.
Later, as Pigpen and Charlie Brown trudge through the snow, you lean back in the corner of her couch with her nestled beside you, your arm draped over her shoulder. Parker is on his second cookie and has about half of it smeared across his face, but he's enraptured by the cartoon and you see so much of yourself in him. Miracle on 34th street is the encore film and by 10:30 both your partner and son have eyelids lower than half-mast. For some odd reason, you are not surprised.
You help her carry the coffee mugs and plate into the kitchen and steal some Christmas cheer, one kiss at a time. When she pulls back from you with a smile on her lips you catch that look in her eyes and are glad you can now describe it as love. Even though she won't say it, doesn't mean you don't feel it. Her fingers trace your jaw line and glide down your neck and she stops once again, on that spot where your heartbeat is plainly visible.
"You know," she says wistfully as she cocks her head to the side wrapping her arms around you, "sometimes your pulse speeds up when I give you a really good kiss. Like right now," she says as she leans in and captures your lips, making your stomach drop out as she swirls her tongue around yours and quickly bites your lower lip. When finally she pulls away, you both are breathless and flushed.
"You sure you can handle that?" she asks playfully. You chuckle and kiss her again, then back away ever so slowly.
She watches you from her counter as you pick up your dead to the world son. Parker hums in his sleep and you shake your head at your crazy kid, while she tucks the DVD under your arm. You watch as she folds up the blanket perfectly and places it on the chair, catching a little glimmer in her eyes.
"Hey, you okay there, Bones?" you ask, as she seems to realize the way she must look. Blinking hard, she gives you a reassuring smile as she places a hand on your cheek, letting out a slow breath.
"Yeah," she nods. "I'm okay now."
Though you want to press her further, Parker is getting pretty heavy and you know you should get home. She kisses Parker's head and gives you a kiss on the cheek, agreeing to meet you Monday for breakfast before you both head into court.
As she waves goodbye to you while the elevator doors close, you wonder hopefully when the time will come when saying goodnight consists of you falling asleep in each others arms, feeling her heart beat beneath your hand and knowing it's as steady as your own.
-+-+-+-+-+
A/N: Okay I tried not to make this fluffy, but genuine and plausible. So if it feels fluffy, I'm changing it immediately. Second, there will be an epilogue hopefully out within the next two weeks.