Thanks to my twitter ladies who helped me with the question if she felt her nipples harden or hardening. ;-)
The Sixth Year: Miss Rolex and her Dummy
"Even with all of the financial and intellectual contradictions, I still feel close to you."
"My watch is ruined!"
"What do you mean your watch is ruined? It's a Rolex!"
"And I'm soaked! Booth, I think we made a mistake."
"Jeez, Bones, you don't say."
Tearing her eyes from her wet shirt, Brennan gave her smirking partner a sarcastic look.
"I'm fully aware of your use of irony."
"I'm glad 'cause I couldn't have been less subtle," he chuckled.
Reaching under the sink, Booth turned off the spraying water.
"What now?" she asked.
He looked from his wet partner to the uncooperative pipe and sighed.
"I'll call the plumber."
For a moment his handsome features were twisted in frustration, and Brennan felt a sudden pang of sadness for the man next to her. If only he would continue teasing her; even that was better than his wistfulness.
"If it's any consolation for you, I couldn't have done it, either, and I found this lesson quite educational," she tried to reassure him.
"Yeah, well, that's no use," he stated with one more sigh.
He hated it. Really and truly hated it.
Very early in his life, Seeley Booth had learned the importance of independence, and not being able to fix things by himself stirred memories of a long buried past when he had been small and helpless. And ever since he had met Temperance Brennan, his knowledge had gotten a whole new value.
Being partnered with the smartest person in the world – of course she would correct him and tell him who exactly on earth had the highest IQ – could lead to self-doubt and an inferiority complex. The only things that had saved him had been his cockiness and superiority in certain fields, and the loss of one of it hurt.
He didn't even know if she had really wanted to learn about plumbing or if she had just done it for him, if it had been her own awkward way of reaching out to him, but Booth suspected that not asking was for the best. Teaching her had felt good.
It always did.
He cast a sideways glance at his partner, and instantly his irritation subsided. Her pale blue shirt was soaked, and wet tresses were dangling next to her long earrings. It was... kind of cute, he decided.
"You want a shower?"
"No, thanks, I just had one," she stated dryly, and he had to laugh.
The deep sound of his laughter eased her somehow, and the furrowed skin on her forehead smoothed.
"A new shirt would be nice, though," she added softly.
"Sure thing. You need pants as well?"
Looking down at her anthracite-colored trousers, she shook her head.
"No, they seem to be dry. Just a shirt, please."
"Of course. Hang on."
He left her alone on the floor and came back with a black shirt shortly after.
"It's probably too big, but it'll work as long as your own dries. Towels are in the bathroom."
Accepting the piece of clothing, Brennan lifted herself to her feet.
"Okay. Don't flood anything else in the meantime."
"Very funny," he growled, and her giggles accompanied her on the way to the bathroom.
-BONES-
It smelled like him.
Alone in her partner's bathroom, Brennan peeled off her own shirt and brought his one to her nose. It smelled like him. Clean and spicy and male. She found traces of detergent and his aftershave in the fabric, but there was something else as well, and even though it was completely irrational, this 'something else' smelled like comfort and warmth and home.
It smelled like him.
Her bra was soaked as well, and Brennan debated for a moment if she should remove it, but in the end discomfort won and she unclasped the lacy garment. At least it would dry quickly, and maybe Booth wouldn't recognize its absence. Or maybe she wanted him to recognize it...
Brennan wasn't sure, but when she pulled her partner's shirt over her naked torso, the sensation stole her breath for a moment.
Anthropologically speaking, there was a whole world of meaning behind wearing the clothes of a specific male, but the person reacting to the achingly familiar scent and the soft fabric wasn't an anthropologist; it was a woman.
Her pale skin was covered with goosebumps, and she felt her nipples hardening, pressing against the shirt that usually enveloped his broad chest. Looking into the mirror, she found out that her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and when she freed her damp ponytail from the hair tie, encouraging the tresses to curl around her face, Brennan told herself that it was because of the involuntary shower and not because of a particular fantasy he had once revealed to her.
She felt... something.
And this something was exciting and unfamiliar.
Shaking her head so that the auburn hair waved around her face, Brennan felt her thumping heart when she reached for the doorknob.
Opening the door.
"Hey, Bones, I thought we could drink a beer while..."
His mouth fell open, as he forgot his words at the sight of her.
Instantly and instinctively he reacted to the picture of his beautiful partner in a man's shirt. No, not only a man's shirt. His shirt. Briefly it crossed his mind that there was probably an anthropological explanation for it, but, truth be told, he didn't really care.
She looked stunning.
The shirt was simple, way too big for her and ended mid-thigh, but there was nothing simple about the wave of protectiveness that swept through his chest. Her hair fell freely and curly onto her shoulders, and there was an almost ethereal glow around her face. And – oh my God – she didn't wear a bra!
Booth swallowed hard and tried to close his mouth. He knew that he was staring at her in a highly inappropriate way, but, for the sake of everything that was holy, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
"You have changed."
His brain registered her voice but not the meaning.
Changed? No, he was still the same. Oh, his shirt!
"Yeah, Bones, I've gotten wet."
'Very intelligent, Seeley, congratulations.'
"Ahem, you want a beer?"
"Sure," she nodded and sashayed in his direction.
Turning around to the fridge, Booth tried to get a grip, tried to hide his reaction from her. What he didn't know was that she had already noticed it. Everything. The way his pupils had widened, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, an involuntary shift in his pelvis region.
She had noticed it – and reveled in it.
When he came back with two bottles of beer a moment later, he had regained his composure, and a part of her – the one with the flushed cheeks and unruly hair – was almost disappointed.
He gave her a bottle and led her to the couch, all the way keeping his gaze above her shoulder level.
"Thanks, Booth, for the beer and the shirt."
"You're welcome. It suits you," he murmured.
She arched an eyebrow at him, a playful smile around her rosy lips.
"The beer or the shirt."
He smiled.
"Both."
There was a simple truth about it. This woman, his partner, was a world-renowned anthropologist and a successful bestselling author. Booth didn't fit into her world – he felt it, and the realization nagged at him – but right, here right now, clad in his favorite shirt, sipping her beer, she fit into his world. Somehow, for a tiny stolen moment, she was his.
"Booth," she hesitated, "I meant what I said earlier. The money I have is just a number. A number that allows me to buy nice things, granted, but it doesn't keep me warm or safe. At least not in the way you are able to do it."
And his heart started to melt...
"You can keep the book, it is a gift," she continued. "I didn't want to offend you in any way. I," she gnawed at her lower lip, "I just wanted to do it right."
… melted until it was a puddle in front of her feet.
Very gently he tapped her chin so that she had to look into his eyes. He found honesty and insecurity in her blue orbs... and so much more.
"You did it right, Bones," he whispered. "I feel close to you as well."
A slow smile appeared on her face, tugging tentatively at her lips until it reached her bright eyes, and he felt it in his core.
"I want to apologize that I made you feel guilty about your money. That was unfair and immature. You've earned it and you shouldn't feel bad about it. After all, it's not who you are."
"And who am I?"
The words had left her lips before she could stop them, but he didn't release her chin or her gaze. And now it was his turn to give her a contagious smile.
"You are my new favorite student."
'My partner. My best friend. My truth. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The brightest light in my life.'
The list was long, but he didn't dare to say it, didn't dare to take back the "atta-girl kind of way".
Seeley Booth was a honest man, one that had always gone with his guts. And deep down he saw what she was, but tonight was not the right time to tell her.
He knew that, eventually, he would show his heart to her, it was inevitable and the right thing, but, to begin with, he had to learn a thing or two about plumbing.
The lesson of love would have to wait.
To be continued...
Just for the record, we all know that he fits into her world just as much as she into his. They complement each other.