Very slight references to The Man in the Mud, but it probably isn't necessary to watch that episode first.
The bonfire cracked and popped, snapping alongside the twigs crunching under Booth's weight as he shifted. The rest of the campers had long since cleared out, which suited him just fine. Murder was hard stuff to take, there was no doubt, but the murder of the counselor, a girl just sixteen, had been especially difficult for him to stomach.
His stomach knotted as he stared unseeingly out at the lake. It was well past midnight, and the cool night air whipped at his uncovered arms. He and Bones had solved the case, of that there was no question. All the loose ends were tied or fit to be tied, and this was the part where he loosened his tie and grinned at Bones over a piece of pie. Pie always tasted better after a case, and the best when Bones was there with him, arguing with him about something or the other.
But he was at Camp Compass, after having spent the past two weeks tracking down a murderer. Keeping his wits about him had proved difficult when all he could imagine was turning a corner and finding he was too late, too slow. All of the kids… children who reminded him of his son, all sunshine and little boy grit, little girls who squealed and chased and young camp counselors barely old enough to get behind the wheel of a car.
The muscles in his shoulders bunched even further as he turned his gaze from the moonlight drenched lake to the crackling fire. The wood smoke scent wafted to his nose, tendrils of countless camp memories loosening his shoulders. He reached out a hand and held it close to the fire, staring as the firelight licked his palm and painted his arm a fiery bronze.
Case closed. Darren Mackey was behind bars and the children at the camp were safe. It wasn't like him to carry guilt around. Well, more guilt that the boulder he normally shouldered.
He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear his partner behind him until her hand touched his shoulder. He didn't turn, and instead recognized her by her subtle scent and massive presence. She was quiet though, keeping her hand on his shoulder as she stood with him.
"It's very beautiful here," she commented after a few minutes.
Booth twisted his head a little, looking at her for the first time over his shoulder. "Small talk, Bones?" he said quietly. "Haven't we moved past that?"
"I was just saying," she began, a little huffily. Brennan paused after a second though, noting the drawn look on her best friend's face. "What is it, Booth? You're not just upset about the case."
A breeze lifted off from the lake, stirring Booth's hair. He turned his gaze back to the lake without answering her.
Brennan lifted her hand off his shoulder and dropped it listlessly to her side at the silent rebuff. She turned her gaze to the fire, but visibly started when Booth suddenly turned around. He faced her, an intense look in his dark eyes. Moonlight illuminated him from behind, silvering his hair and leaving most of his face in shadow. Fire from beside him lightened the darkness up to his chest, the gold and silver warring for dominance over the strong planes of his body.
Without speaking, he reached for the hand she had just dropped from his shoulder and intertwined their fingers, placing their palms flat together. The touch was electric in the still night, the woodsy scent of the air filling their lungs and exploding their nerve endings.
Her breath caught as Booth lifted their joined hands and simply gazed at them, his larger fingers totally dwarfing her smaller, more elegant digits. Her startled gaze flew to his face, but he simply met her eyes and held the look, his other hand coming to rest on her waist. It brushed there, a gentle caress that belied the intensity in his eyes.
Keeping their intertwined hands joined, Booth moved the fingers from his other hand up the side of her blouse, careful to avoid any of the parts of her that cried out for his touch. He instead brushed his fingers up to her neck, the slightly rough pads of his fingers tracing her delicate collarbone and then up to the juncture of her throat and jaw. Brennan closed her eyes, her grip tightening on Booth's as she stayed completely still.
He took his time tracing her face, running his fingertips lightly along her jaw, his thumb touching her lips, his index finger tracing the bridge of her nose and smoothing the hair at her temple. His eyes zeroed in on her lips, his Adam's apple working in his throat as he fought to swallow.
Brennan kept her eyes closed, sensations heightened to an almost unbearable level. Her nerves felt raw and exposed, but contradictorily softened and smoothed. Booth's hand finished its torturously slow journey mapping the planes of her face and now was still, his breath coming harsh and fast.
Her eyes fluttered open, though her body felt lethargic after his sensual touch. Their fingers were still joined, and she reached between them to grab his other hand.
"Not everything is black and white, Temperance," he whispered softly.
"I know," her voice was hardly there.
"Shades of gray, Bones," he said roughly. "That girl who died… she was so young. Did she ever get to feel the touch of a lover?"
Brennan's mind flew to his stirring touch, the liquid warmth it had sent straight to her core. Standing so close to him, she imagined she could feel his pulse through their joined hands. Or maybe it was her own. Or theirs.
"Did she ever get to feel the heat of a man's gaze who adored her? Did she ever know how it felt to have his hands roam her body, sure in the knowledge that it was only she who ever stirred him. Did she know that she was everything to him?"
As her spoke, he loosened his hand from hers and gently pulled her closed to him.
"She never experienced that, Bones. She died so young. If she had lived, then maybe she would have discovered someone like that. Someone who realized how beautiful she was, both inside and out."
For once, Temperance Brennan had nothing to say. The heaviness of his words was filling her, capturing the breath in the mouth. There was no doubt in her mind that Booth, strong, uncomfortable-with-emotion Booth wasn't speaking about the 16 year old who had perished.
"Sweets was wrong, Booth," she finally said.
For a minute, a ghost of a smile flickered across his serious face. "He usually is."
"We talk about much more than work, Booth," Brennan said. "Maybe in not so many words, perhaps, but we talk all the same. When you touch me here," Brennan took his hand and placed it at the small of her back, where he normally placed it to guide her as they walked. "You tell me you're comfortable with me in a way that exceeds a normal partnership."
Next, Brennan ducked under his arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "When you touch me like this, you're telling me how relaxed and happy you are."
She moved his hand to just in front of her chest, pressing his fingers together in a fist and pointing his index finger at herself. "Here you tell me how angry I make you," she said softly. She moved his fingers to her chin and cheek. "And here's how you say you're sorry."
"Here's how I tell you I care about you too," she whispered, standing on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. He was startled, but his cool lips immediately warmed under her touch. Hesitant moments passed where their lips moved cautiously and their bodies remained frozen, but then something snapped in Seeley Booth. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her forward, setting her body flush against him, sharing his warmth and stealing her heart.
His solidness surrounded her, keeping her warm against the chilled night air. Her lips parted and his tongue brushed the seam, tasting Brennan in a way he had dreamed of for years.
"How," he said as they broke the kiss, "how did you," he expelled a breath that Brennan caught as she kissed him again. "How did you know?"
"Mmm…" Brennan moved to kiss his neck, smiling at the heat there and the soft whimpers coming from his throat. "Know what?"
"That I was," his breath caught as Brennan continued to kiss him, "thinking about what Sweets said."
"I know you," Brennan said simply. "I know you better than I know anyone else, actually. You crave human contact, Booth, it's what makes you such a wonderful father and friend. It bothered you when Sweets told us we had no connection besides work."
"Friend," Booth said, wrapping his fingers around hers. "Is that all I am to you, Bones?"
She hesitated, real life worries intruding for the first time since she had seen him looking bleakly across the lake. She hadn't even thought about it when she had kissed him. He was Seeley Booth, quite simply, the best man she knew.
"You're everything," she finally said.
He nodded solemnly, accepting her hesitance, but realizing the thick emotion behind it.
Booth released her then, slightly embarrassed by the intimate contact. Recognizing the battered hurt in his gaze, she brushed her fingers across the stubble on his chin and leaned up to rub her cheek against his. Their noses brushed in an Eskimo kiss, and she inhaled his woodsy scent. "Everything, Booth."
With that she turned on her heel and left, leaving Booth standing near the fire, silver moonlight soothing the gold burn of the fire inside his chest.
I really haven't written much Bones fan fiction, because even though I love to read it, I have a difficult time putting myself in their heads. This said, this is a pretty solemn interpretation of them, lacking their usual sparkle, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Crosses fingers Let me know what you think...
Laura