Title: One Night to Speed Up Truth
Author: Dizzy
Rating: M
Summary: This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the Bones soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.
Disclaimer: If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. Bones belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.
*Author's Note: This is my first Bones fic. I intend on making this a multi-chapter story, but that is dependent on you, the reader. Please tell me if you would like to read more as your reviews are the muse that keeps the plot alive.
Chapter 1: Heartbeats
(Song featured in S4:E16 Salt in the Wounds)
One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away
Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade
To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no
One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love
To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no
To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night
To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no
To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no
*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*
"You drunk?" She started the conversation with a known variable. Alone plus alcohol must equal drunk, especially when the empty glasses in front of him matched those that were filled.
"Relatively. Relatively meaning I'm drunker than usual. You know, I am not a drunk." She bristled at his comment, his accusing tone that suggested that she was accusing him. She knew he wasn't a drunk. Why would he assume that she would purposely try to hurt him?
"You sound….something…" She trailed off, not because she didn't know what was bothering him, but because she didn't know how to comfort him. "Hannah called me."
"Just….I really…I don't wanna talk about that…k? I'm just…I'm over it, I'm done, k?" She wanted to go on, to find the cause. Her mind flashed to the conversation she had mere moments before. Hannah calling, crying, her voice breaking from a hiccupping sob. Brennan had been working late, which she had been doing more than ever since her tearful confession to Booth a few weeks earlier. She had convinced herself that it was due to the ever expanding caseload that had piled up since she had left for Maluku, but if she were honest with herself, which she rarely was, she would admit it was her vigorous attempt at forgetting and moving past the burning embarrassment that her confession and subsequent rejection had left. As she listened to Hannah recount Booth's ill-fated proposal, Brennan realized she was capable of being petty and small. She couldn't find it in her to console the weeping journalist.
"So, what happens next?" She asked, a slight tinge of hope creeping into her voice. It seemed too simple, but logically there was nothing between them now. Still, she knew that he was in pain, and despite her desire to revisit the topic of "them" as he was technically no longer engaged, for lack of a better word, she couldn't bring herself to say it. She knew it wouldn't be right.
"What happens next?" His voice was incredulous, as if he couldn't believe she had the audacity to make such a ludicrous inquiry. Shame rolled through her body like a tidal wave and she knew she had over-stepped the bounds of what was polite, even between close friends and almost-but-never-lovers. She had crossed a line, but not the one she had worried so much about in the past. His eyes watered and she could tell he was willing himself not to let their tears come. If they came, the dam would break and neither of them would know how to survive the deluge. He was too proud, and she didn't want to see him lose that pride. Not now, not like this. He began again, "What….you like evidence, right Bones? Well here's the evidence…the evidence is that there is something wrong here. Now I….I found love with a woman….I had a kid…she doesn't want to marry me. Well…and then the next woman, well she's…" Brennan knew where this was going.
"Me." Her rejection of him left a gaping, festering wound on him that refused to heal. Maybe it was due to the fact that she insisted that they remain friends, remain close. She knew it had been selfish, a catch 22, look but don't touch in the guise of professionalism. In eternalist time theory, Booth was always reliving her refusal of him, just as she was reliving his dismissal of her confession. Both doomed to forever repeat the pain of the past, with no way of knowing if the future held the answer. All time—past, present, future—existing at once, ache upon ache. She believed in science, and as guilt and pain washed over her again, she knew that some part of her, somewhere, was reliving that night in the rain where her realization of love was met with a piteous "no".
"Yeah, and now, I mean…" He continued, "what is it with women who just don't want what I'm offering here?"
"Booth." Couldn't he see? Couldn't he know that she was ready to take his offer, to accept him, for them to find comfort in one another, finally. She couldn't stand the thought of him thinking he was deficient in some way, not worthy of the love he so desperately wanted and deserved. She felt herself begin, the words forming and dying on her lips as he started again.
"No, just…you know what?...Drink….Drink…" He grabbed up one of the brimming shots of tequila that sat in front of him and motioned for her to do the same, the sharp clink of the shot glasses echoing between them. She tentatively brought the strong liquor to her lips, blinking as the fumes met her eyes, a sipped gently.
"I'm just really, really…" He stumbled over his words then gave up. She watched uneasily as he downed the shot in milliseconds. He was already drunk, and well on his way to being incoherently so. "I'm just mad. I'm just really mad at all of you. Alright? I'm just mad. Ok….so you wanna know how this is gonna work? K, this is how this is gonna work…Me and you are partners, that's what we do, we're partners. Alright? And I love that, I think that's great, and we're good people who catch bad people right?...And we argue, we go back and forth, we're partners….and sometimes after we solve a case we come here and we celebrate, that's what we do, we celebrate. So, as far as I can see that is what happens next. Are you ok with that?"
She wasn't ok with it, not in the slightest. She didn't like the desperate tremor in his voice, as if he was stuffing himself into a costume, one meant to disguise his anger with forced enthusiasm for their profession, for their amicable collegiate relationship. His words were being pushed out with a strained positivity that sounded utterly false to her ears. Yet, she couldn't speak, couldn't find the magic words to make things right. Even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to speak them. The tense pause was broken when he began again, his demeanor a manic adaptation of faux optimism.
"Great, because if you are I'll tell you what, you stay here and you have a drink with me. Alright maybe we have a little small talk, chit-chat. And if you're not, well….you can leave….there's the door, and tomorrow I'll find you a new FBI guy." His words stung more fiercely than the liquor. A new FBI guy? A new partner? He couldn't be serious, but something in the set of his shoulders, the hunch of his back told her that he was.
"Those are my only choices?"
"Yeah, those are your only choices," even though his voice waivered as he said it, she knew he was adamant about his ultimatum. She felt powerless and when faced with losing him completely or allowing him to deny his emotions, she chose the latter. She chose it for him, to keep him with her, and because she knew it was how she would have handled the situation. Run from the emotions, so fast and so hard that they will never catch you, so you never have to feel. She knew that course all to well and had taken comfort in it many times before.
"Then I'll have a drink." She said resolutely, then downed the remaining tequila in front of her and immediately motioned to the bartender for another. She noticed in the peripheral that Booth had mimicked her motion, and chose to take solace in their synchronicity rather than the implication of the act itself.
*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*
The tiny shot glasses clinked again. She couldn't remember if this was her eighth or tenth shot of bad tequila and she had no clue as to how many he had partaken in, but at that moment it didn't matter; he was smiling. She loved his smile, the way his eyes would crinkle in the corners.
"Alright, Alright, Alright…" he laughed, "You remember the time that gangbanger was running away from me, ya know, when we were looking into that body found in the L Street dumpster."
"Oh yes, Mr. El Bravo. His tattoos were very…very..." She couldn't find the word and he started to laugh harder as she drew a blank.
"What do ya got, Bones? Intricate? Variant?" He was shaking his head and lifting another tumbler of scotch to his lips.
"No…" The look of concentration suddenly vanished and her face lit up with her own knowing smile. "Funny."
"Funny? Really, your just gonna say 'funny'? You never cease to amaze me," His smile was now reaching his eyes, exactly where she wanted it to be. He seemed settled, he seemed himself. "Anyway, he just kept running….and I'm like 'Stop, you asshat!'"
"You didn't say 'asshat'." She stated bluntly.
"Sure I did!" His face took on a humorous indignation.
"I was there, Booth, and that is factually incorrect."
"Fine. I didn't say 'asshat', but I was thinking it…" He chuckled as he took another swig of scotch. "So, there I am chasing him, not saying 'asshat' even though I was thinking it, and the idiot goes to jump over the…the…fuck, what is it called?"
"Who's drawing a blank now!" She leaned forward and jabbed her finger into his chest.
"I'll get it, I'll get it…" his brow shot up as the word seemed to magically appear from the ether. "Chain link! That's it….Chain link!"
"Bravo." Brennan rolled her eyes.
"No, I'm Booth. The guy I was chasing was Bravo." He grinned.
"No, I meant that to be a sarcastic exclamatory utterance to denote…" She started, confused indignation written on her face.
"I know, Bones, I know. It was a joke. A joke. Anyway, so up he goes over this fence and the damn thing is all old and rusted. When he gets to the top and starts to go over…Crunch! The thing falls apart and there he is, dangling from the mess by the huge boxers that were hanging halfway out of his pants. Priceless!" Another swig of scotch as if to put emphasis on the end of his story.
"That one deserved an encore…" She said slyly, sidling next to him as if she were a fourth grader telling a dirty joke.
"What do you mean?" He looked confused.
"An encore, you know. Like after an opera, when they shout "Encore"? It's funny because his name is 'Bravo'." She rambled on, becoming even more frustrated by the look of confusion that was still pasted to Booth's booze bleary face. "It was a highly effective joke! You're just too intoxicated to appreciate it!" She huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child.
"Maybe you're too wasted to tell it right?" She knew that look. He was playing dumb, teasing her.
"Agent Booth, you are not as charming as you think…"
"Yes I am." He smiled and winked, satisfied that he had irritated her enough. He picked up his tumbler and frowned. It was empty. "I need another drink. Barkeep! Scotch!"
"Alright you two, you've been her for almost three hours and we're trying to close up shop." The bartender motioned to the restaurant around them. He was right. Chairs were up on tables, a busboy was sweeping up, they were the only ones there. "Plus, if I give either of you anymore I'm gonna be libel for negligent homicide when you both get alcohol poisoning.
"Ok, ok, Lou! We got it." Booth started to climb off of the stool and immediately braced himself on the bar. "Whoa…"
"Are you alright?" Brennan slid off her stool and realized that she was not much better off. "I seem to be very inebri..inerbri..inieb..." She gave up. "Drunk. I'm drunk, too."
"I already called you guys a cab. Just get home safe and worry about the tab tomorrow." Lou said as he cleared their glasses.
"Ya sure, Lou? 'Cause I…can…ya know, pay now. I'm good for it." Booth was desperately searching all but his back pocket for his wallet.
"I know you two are. Hell, she writes books right? You're good for it…" Lou chuckled. "…but don't worry about it now. You'll be back. Plus, I think your cabs here."
"He's right, Booth. We will most likely be back here in a matter of days and the cab is here." Brennan was clinging to logic and vocabulary, just as she was clinging to one of the vacated stools.
"Ok, thanks, Lou. We'll uh…we'll see ya." He grabbed Brennan around the shoulders, supporting her as much as she was supporting him. "Come on, Bones. Let's take this party back to my place."
"Be careful, you two. Don't do anything I would!"
"But if you would do it, wouldn't it stand to reason that you condone it?" Brennan tried to speak from over her shoulder.
"Joke, again. Come on, Bones." Booth pulled her through the Founding Father's door, relieved to see the cab. They fell into the it, a giggling lump of Booth and Brennan. He gave the cabby his address and a twenty. "I got some beers back at my place."
"Then to your place we go!" She smiled, rolled down the window, and relished the feel of the cool air rushing against her face as the cab pulled away from the curb.
*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*
The door to Booth's apartment flew open and they came crashing through, a pile of limbs and grins. Using the doorknob to pull herself up, Brennan stopped to take in the view of Booth splayed out on his back in the doorway, laughing so hard that tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. Even though her mind was a rush of incoherent thoughts and emotions, one thing was clear, she loved him. She loved his ability to make the world seem right, taking whatever problem plagued her and turning it into an inconsequential mound of dust. In that moment there was nowhere she wished to be other than there, with him.
Booth's uncontrollable laughter started to die down and a soft sigh left him. He was lying there looking at the ceiling feeling his body calm, one arm stretched over his head, the other lying on his chest, over his heart, as if he was making sure it was still there, still beating. The silence between the two only lasted a few seconds, but gave the illusion of lasting for an eternity.
"Today was hard." He said quietly, still fixating on some unknown point above him.
"Yeah…" She said lightly, pushing the door closed with a soft click. Her body didn't seem to respond to the commands her brain was sending, so she just rested her forehead against the polished wood of the doorframe, clinging hard to the doorknob to steady herself.
"I promised you a beer," Booth said suddenly as he struggled to his feet and began making a swerving path to the refrigerator.
"Booth…" Brennan started, not sure if she was ready to change the subject. She didn't want him to run from the conversation that needed to be had.
"No, no, no…" Was he saying no to the conversation or her possible refusal of another drink? "Do you want a Fat Tire or a Stone IPA?"
"I…I want…" She began, not sure where she was going with her words, not sure what she wanted. She decided on the path of least resistance. "A Fat Tire, please."
"Good, cause I want the Stone." He smiled as he brought out the two colorful bottles and removed the tops with the bottle opener that was attached to the fridge. "IPA's have a higher alcohol content. Did you know that? About 1 to 4% higher than a regular ale."
"Is that a good thing?" Brennan asked as she slowly and deliberately sat down on the couch. Once leaning against the arm of the couch and sufficiently comfortable, she reached up and took the beer from him, her warm fingers making contact with his colder ones in the process.
"It is tonight." He said with a quiet chuckle. He flopped down next to her on the couch, took a long pull from his bottle, and then leaned back, staring again at the ceiling.
"What is so captivating up there?" Brennan asked as she repositioned herself so they shared the same view of the off-white plaster ceiling. "It looks pretty barren to me."
"Its…blank." She turned to look at him. He had a strained smile pulling at the corner of his lips, as if he were trying to happily explain something very painful. "It is old, and little off color, but for the most part, its clean…blank. I wish sometimes that I could be that way. Wipe everything away and start new."
"Not everything. What about Parker?" Brennan rested her head against his shoulder, her gaze still raised upward.
"Yeah, not everything. I would never give up Parker for anything." He sighed, "Or you. I wouldn't want to give up you."
"Me? Why not?" She swallowed hard, but didn't take her head from his shoulder. Instead she glanced at her lap. She hadn't even noticed that his hand was on her bare knee. "I…caused you a great deal of pain. Wouldn't you want to forget that?"
"No." He shook his head adamantly. "Sure…I wish…I wish certain things had gone differently…and maybe I wish I could go back and change that." He took another long drink from his beer and she couldn't help watching as his head tipped back, his adam's apple moving and he swallowed the cold liquid.
"So you would want to change events…but not us?" She moved her hand on top of his, the one that was now lightly brushing her knee cap is a soft, rhythmic motion.
"I have always wanted to change 'us'…since the day we met." He laced his fingers with hers, bringing the back of her had to brush against his stubbly cheek. "But I wouldn't want to actually change 'us'. Ya know what I mean, Bones?"
"Yes, I know." He wasn't looking at her, but he was bringing their entwined hands to his lips. He placed soft kisses to the crevices where their fingers seemed to melt into one another. "I…have wished…I wished the same. The same thing…as you."
"You have?" His head swung to face hers, his bleary eyes making contact with her own unfocused pupils.
"All the time." She whispered, unable to look away from him. "I have often thought of how beneficial, albeit impossible, it would be to change certain moments of our partnership so that they reconfigured into a more positive and less damaging outcome so that…" She was rambling again, finding the logical way of explaining something she didn't understand, the metaphorical human heart.
"Stop." His command was soft, gentle. She watched as his eyes traveled down her face to her lips and his tongue peeked out to wet his own. "Stop, making this so…so fucking logical, Bones. Logic can't explain everything."
"Logic must be the ultimate result of any inquiry if it is to be…" She began, but was cut off when he leaned forward and let his lips lightly rest against hers. She was shocked, confused. Any vestiges of logic that remained in the forefront of her mind quickly dissipated as he moved his freehand to the back of her head. She could taste the sweet and bitter taste of tequila and beer on his tongue as it found its way past her lips, and lightly started running itself against her own. Vaguely she knew that she should push him away, this wasn't the right time.
"Booth…" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Fuck logic, Bones. Don't stop me unless you mean it, unless you don't want this as much as…" a rush of air passed through his lips. He pulled her forehead to his, resting it there. She watched as his eyes squeezed shut, his corrugator muscles furrowed. This was hard for him, she realized. "Stop me if you don't want this as much as I do. As I always have."
There was a long pause where his eyes remained shut, hers open, his hand on the back of her neck, hers on his chest. She couldn't formulate the thoughts, she didn't have the ability to think, and for once, she was happy for it. She didn't want to logic her way out of this, like she did so many times in the past. Wasn't what that what they were just talking about, changing the past? Or was it really about altering the future? It didn't matter anymore as she leaned forward, letting their liquored breaths mingle between them. Her hands slid up his chest, one making its way to the back of his head, the other to the side of his face. He leaned his cheek into her palm, relishing the feel of her soft, slight hands touching him with such care.
"I…I want this to." She said quietly. Then his mouth was on hers again. A desperate frenzy to feel, to taste. He leaned forward, pushing her back onto the couch, his hands running through her hair as he ravaged her mouth. She felt her subconscious take over, all senses leaving her except those most basic, most primal. His lips trailed down her neck, moved down the column of her throat with soft, reverent kisses. Her fingers flew to the buttons of his black dress shirt, but her fingers wouldn't comply. Her mind hazy, she couldn't seem to get her usually agile tips to push the offending buttons through the tiny holes. She let out a groan of frustration, leaning her head back on the couch arm in defeat, allowing him to gain better access to her chest. His lips now played at the tops of her breasts and she could feel a hot wave of desire flow through her. He was so close, so warm, so heavy, so right.
The pressure of his body lessened and she opened her eyes in confusion. He was now kneeling over her, between her open legs. She hadn't even realized that her thighs were now cradling his hips, her leg wrapped around him, urging him toward her hot center. She could feel him their pushing against her most sensitive spot, his hardness pressing into her and evident even through the layers of material. She looked at him with confusion. Why had he pulled away, was he uncertain? She had just let go of logic, was attempting to live in the moment, and her mind was not ready to posit likely scenarios.
She was about to voice her concern when he quickly grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and throwing it onto the recliner. Her mouth formed a soft "O" as she gazed at his now bare chest. Her had reached up to brush against his firm pectoral, sweeping down to lightly skim his nipple. She was pleased to here the quick hiss of his breath as her fingers danced and then settled against his ribs. He slowly, gently grabbed her hand and removed it from his hot skin.
"Too much. You're…you're just…" His fingers traced down her jaw, her throat, and to the tops of her breasts, which were just barely visible above the collar of her shirt. "God, Bones, you're just…everything."
She was about to reply when his hands grasped either side of her light blue dress shirt and pulled it apart, the buttons pinging to the ground and the couch. She didn't have time to be shocked as his head dipped and he began to devour her cloth-encased breasts. She moaned loudly as he pulled the cup of her bra down and sucked a soft pink nipple into his mouth. Her hips shot up and ground against his, their cores meeting in a flash of white-hot pleasure.
"Oh…please…oh please, Booth." She held his head to her breast and wound her legs securely around her hips, crushing him to her with the force and intent of making them one.
"God damn, Bones, you're fucking perfect." His heads were clumsily moving to the button and zipper of her pants. It took a few tries, and plenty of frustrated grunts before he was able to open them. She lifted her hips as he slid her trousers from her legs. She took the time to grab at his belt, undoing it but not bothering to remove it. She pushed the black dress pants down his thighs with her nimble feet, allowing the her high arches and toes to feel what her hands could not reach, the firm corded muscles and stiff bones of his legs. He moaned as she brought her legs back up to wrap around his hips. He pressed hard into her then, his boxer clad erection digging into her warm, damp, panty-covered core.
"You still have to much on," he mumbled into her neck as he rotated his hips, grinding his desire into her. His hands were playing with the edge of her silky panties. His fingertips running along her pubic bone, enjoying the feeling of her stomach muscles contracting and releasing with desire. He hooked his fingers into the delicate material and slowly slid down her body, pushing them down from her thighs as he trailed kisses down her legs, to the back of her knees, along her calves, until he slipped the damp garment from her completely. Making his way back up her body, he smiled and dropped the scrap of cloth to the floor. She couldn't help but smile and let out a soft, throaty laugh.
He pulled himself up to her again, letting one arm rest above her, allowing him to play softly with her hair as he nuzzled her neck. The other lightly gripped her hip, pulling it closer to his own.
"Booth…oh God…" She moaned as she felt him grind into her again. She could feel him smiling against her neck.
"What do you want, Baby? Tell me what you want…and I'll give it to you." His voice was low, the deep rumble tickling her ear and sending a wave of pleasurable shivers down her spine. His fingers left her hip and trailed their way into the soft curls between her thighs. His long index finger played along her wet slit, running back and forth, teasing her.
"I…want…" She could barely wrap her lips around the right words, barely make the request.
"Want what, Baby? Say it…" He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked into her eyes and she noted the dark, almost onyx-like quality they had adopted. A whimper rose from somewhere deep in her throat, his eyes were telling her what he wanted, but he wanted her to want it too.
"I want…you, Booth." She cried as she felt his finger twirl in a light circle around her clit. "I want you inside me…please" The word was a whisper.
"But I am inside you," He whispered in her ear and she felt now that his finger was sliding slowly into her wet sheath. She nearly screamed in her frustration, but instead she arched into his hand, grinding herself against his firm fingers.
"I want all of you, Booth." This time she grabbed his face and made him look directly at her. "I want all of you. I want…I want everything."
She wasn't even sure what she meant, but her words were enough for him remove his fingers from her and wrap his arms fully around her body. He crushed his lips to hers with a force that stole her breath away.
She pushed his boxers down his thighs, just past his knees, down far enough to free his erection from the confines of fabric. She felt him shift his hips to line up with her warm entrance. She shuddered at the feel of his thick head pressing against her welcoming opening. He was still kissing her as he slid slowly home, her back arching his cock made its way deeper into her. She felt full, warm, and insanely complete. She felt him pull back, then slam forward, the first of many deep thrusts.
"Oh god, Bones….Bones…" His eyes were squeezed shut as he ground his cock deeper into her warm core. "Fuck…you feel amazing. You feel…"
"Perfect…" she moaned as he thrust into her again. His eyes found hers again as he began to speed up his thrusts. She could feel him reaching the very end of her with the very beginning of him. His tip nearly sliding out with every thrust, them surging forward so deep that she could feel him brush against her cervix. It was too much; his heat, his heaviness, his hands on her body, his lips on her breasts. She could feel herself start to quiver, her toes start to curl.
"Booth, I'm…I'm so…" She sighed and tightened her thigh's hold on his hips, driving him even deeper into her.
"Come on, Baby….I can feel it, feel you," He hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm so close. I can feel it…I want to feel you come for me, Bones. I want too feel you come."
His words echoed in her ears and she let herself go, wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted, what she wanted. She felt the tight pressure low in her belly start to bloom as her orgasm began to wash over her. "Booth! Oh, God yes!"
"Bones…" he growled into her ear and she felt his thrusts become hard, untimed, and erratic. She felt him harden, lengthen inside her as her muscles gripped and milked his cock. He was almost there.
"Come for me, Booth. " She whispered lightly into his ear before grasping the lobe in her teeth. "I want you to come, like you made me come."
His back suddenly arched, his arms still wrapped tightly around her, crushing her body up against his. His lips sucked hard at her collarbone, and she knew there would be a mark, a reminder. He emptied himself then, filling her completely in a warm rush and she felt herself tighten and squirm around him again, her second orgasm washing over her and milking him of everything that he had left.
His hips moved slowly, riding out the last vestiges of pleasure. He gently laid her back on the couch and allowed himself to collapse on top of her, his panting breaths warm on her sweat slicked skin. They both lay there, too exhausted to move, him still buried deep inside her, but softening as their breaths returned to normal.
There were no words, just the soft sound of Brennan gently caressing Booths back and neck as he nuzzled closer into her neck. He was heavy, but the weight of him was comforting and felt right. She felt the lids of her eyes grow heavy and she could already tell from his breathing that Booth was asleep. She let her eyes fall shut. Maybe it was from the physical exertion, maybe it was from the alcohol, but she just couldn't stay awake, and followed Booth into sleep.
*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*
Author: There is more to come…confusion, angst, and misunderstandings. Do you want to read it? Please review so that I know if I should continue.