Chapter 3.6- Not the home-making sort.

In two weeks, Lieutenant Booth was released back to his unit based in Dover. The Red Cross Commandant had noted that there was no need for further internment period for the American. There were no sequels to the head injury and the wounds to the back had healed quite satisfactorily. Dr Brennan could not come up with any reason for his staying except for the fact that she would much prefer to know that while under her care, he would not be going into any battle field or dangerous mission. And that she did not voice- to the Commandant, to Booth, Angela or even to the walls of her bedroom.

She made sure her shift duty was over by the time the release papers for Booth were signed. She met him at the door, deciding it was poor judgment to hold his hand in public. She did not need her superior officers questioning her motives or her suitability for duty. With a silent request that he did not query her, she asked him to follow her. Once around the corner, he held out his hand to her.

"Don't you worry, McPretty. I know how things are." He wanted to kiss her but they were far too close to the hospital's walls to risk it. "You know, there is little else that I want to do more than to kiss you now!" She was caught in the intensity of his eyes. She felt kissed. It was something of the mind and heart as much as of lips and tongues. There would be time for that later, she decided. Even if she had to stop all the clocks.

They hopped on the bus to her apartment. It was a sad little thing on the first floor of a Victorian conversion. It had all the trademarks of someone who does not so much live in a place as occupies it. When he walked in he immediately realized that she did not spend time enough in there to worry about making it a home. There was precious little in the way of material comfort. There were books. Books in every available table, shelf and flat surface. But the rest was… Spartan. There was a pastel in violent blues of a lighthouse in a storm hanging on the wall. Booth put down his bag and walked through the apartment. There was something about wartime that made people more aware of life, of how short life is. He was absolutely sure that, in peace time, he would not be in that apartment. He would not be about to make love to that amazing woman. He knew that's why he was there. She wanted to say see you later. She wanted to ask him to come back to her in one piece. She did not need any apple pie like Mrs Addy to make him promise. He would promise her anything she needed. And he'd be damned if he was not going to keep that promise. He wanted nothing more than hearing her ask him to make sure he kept himself safe. And to fulfill that promise. Somehow, he knew he was supposed to.

In her room, Temperance did what she could to make it homier. She regretted not being the house wife type. She valued her books much more than anything else in the world. She had gone so far as to trade some of her rationing coupons for rare books. People were sadly desperate and would sell anything that could increase their food allowance. She had acquired a copy of "in praise of folly" that had to be a good 300 years old or more. She wanted to feel proud of her purchase, but was incapable as she knew what it had cost someone to sell it. She hoped she would never have to sell her precious books. As it was, though, right now, she was beginning to think that it might have been wiser to invest in some sort of creature comforts- a few fluffy pillows, a few rugs, some wood for the fire, and, God help her, some food. How was this supposed to be a romantic night- their first night- together if the apartment seemed straight out of the poor house?

She walked into the kitchen, flustered. He had gone back to admiring the painting on the wall.

"It's Angela's… she gave it to me."

"I was gonna say it's pretty. I'm no art lover, but I think it's more than that. It's… intense…" She smiled at that. That was true. She walked into the kitchen and rummaged through he cupboards. She found some of her nice tea, and a stash of chocolate- the good one. But nothing else. She was about to apologize for the fact when he opened his bag and revealed an assortment of goodies- eggs, bread, cheese and apples. And miracle of miracles, there were even scones with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. She laughed in relief.

"Angela!"
"Angela!" They both laughed. Yes, Angela was a guardian angel.

"She handed me the bag and told me, whichever place I was going, I could thank her later!"

"I'm nervous…" She confessed out of the blue.

"Because I'm here?"

"Yes… I know exactly what I want to happen tonight, but I'm not exactly sure how to make it happen… I… I'm just scared we might not see each other again…" He put the eggs down carefully and hugged her. She fit inside his arms as if she'd been made to be there at all times. He wanted to stay like that for the next hundred years. He kissed lightly at first. Her hair, her forehead, her lips but, by the time he got to her neck, he was done being patient, being gentle. She smelled like lavender and orange flower and was responding to each of his kisses with fire on fire. Her hands traveled to the buttons of his uniform and undid one by one placing greedy kisses where each button had been. She slid off the coat of the formal uniform and then the shirt. She was enjoying undressing him and took her time doing so. He pulled her up to sit on the kitchen table. His hands ran up and down her back. Her uniform was a work of art of English tailors- clearly used to working for men and men alone. But he'd be damned if that wasn't one of the most exciting things he had ever taken a woman out of. He unbuttoned every single brass button of her coat under the moonlight sifting in through the kitchen window. His impatience cost her a button. He held it to the light.

"Are you gonna get in trouble if you lose one of these?"
"No…" He put the little button in his pocket.

"Then I'm saving it for luck" She laughed at that. It was ridiculous how such a mundane remark could make her so happy.

"What keepsake are you going to give me?" She asked in between kisses on his lightly bearded chin.

"Well, I already gave you my heart. What else could you possibly ask for?" It was said so seriously that the easy sentimentalism went unnoticed. Somehow, and just because it was Booth saying it, it was nothing more, nothing less than the truth. She hugged him with all her might. She just had to. Her cheek pressed against his chest, his heart beat under her ear. Her own heart was beating painfully in her chest. When she released her grip, he removed what was left of their uniforms and cradling her in his arms, carried her to her bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed and photographed her in that particular moment, in his mind. He wanted to be really old and still remember how she looked like under the light of the moon, slightly embarrassed under his intense scan, how her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses and how her face was flushed with desire. There was no mistake. She wanted him as much as he wanted her- carnally, heatedly, no holds barred. They wanted each other absolutely. His finger trailed from the curve of her neck to her knee. He took his time. He knew she should not be rushed. Despite herself. He kneeled in from of her and kissed each little goosebump on her skin. He warmed her up with his breath, his desire. And then he tickled her. He needed to hear her laugh- it was a desperate need- he couldn't explain it. So he kissed all the spots he knew would make her ticklish- her elbow, her waist, her belly button -always studying, waiting for the laughter. When she could hold it no more, she held on to him, laughing in delight and he rolled her atop him.

"What would happen if I pulled those hair pins out of your hair? You know what?" and he sat up and pulled three pins releasing a glorious mass of auburn hair. He ran his hands down strands of it, marveling at the softness of it, the lavender smell of it. "So much better". He sighed and pulled her to him, the need to possess her- heart and soul- overcoming his will.