Hand to Hand

by Lesera128

10 weeks after the birth of their daughter, tensions are running high. Booth, worried about his past catching up with his family, ends up sparring with Brennan when she challenges him to face the past and their future head on. Bones/Angel crossover. Very AU. A sequel in the multiple story arc that includes such stories as: "Toe to Toe" & "A Would-be Reunion."

7. Pt 7: Win, Lose, or Draw

Hand to Hand

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: Here the normal rigmarole is posited. No, unfortunately I don't own anything from Bones or Angel... or anything else. Yup, I'm back, baby…and I'm wrecking havoc as needed to tell the most awesome and epic Angel-Bones crossover ever conceived. However, since it's only for the purposes of creative enjoyment and amusing distraction, I think we're okay. Are there any other questions? No? ::blinks:: Good. Then, moving on―

A/N: ::checks the mic:: Yeah, well here I am. Back and with the conclusion to this epic piece. For those old time readers who remember this, welcome! For those who are new, nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy!

UNF Alert: Umm. Yes. You've been warned.

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Part VII: Win, Lose, or Draw

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Brennan stepped forward again and closed the distance between them, then bent her knees slightly, assuming a fighter's posture as Booth did the same. Feinting to the left and then to the right, she tucked her left shoulder low as she drew her left hand back, gritting her teeth as she threw a low left hook that Booth managed to partially block, then she followed up a second later with a hard right punch that caught him off-balance and landed squarely over his left eye. She felt her knuckles collide with the top of his eye socket and instantly knew she'd hit him hard enough to leave a dark periorbital hematoma.

"What the fuck?" he gasped, reaching up to cup his hand over his eye. "What, are you tryin' to give me a fucking black eye here?"

"Not trying to, no," she said, her heart rate having increased to the point that her breaths were coming more shallowly than they had just minutes before. "But it might just be an unintended consequence." She watched his hand fall away as he blinked a couple of times and shook his head with a grunt. A flash of sympathy caused her to hesitate for a few short moments as she watched her husband, partner, and longtime lover struggle to regain his bearings.

In space of the two or three seconds, when Brennan's hesitation and weariness caused her hands to sag, dropping from their place in front of her chin as she watched Booth shrug off the effects of her last hard right, he regained his senses and moved in, his own hands held in loose fists in front of his chest as he closed the distance between them with a couple of steps. He stopped, shaking his head again as Brennan watched him, puzzling at what he would do, and in those short seconds, he moved in, reaching with both hands for the top of her black Lycra sports bra. Curling his fingers over the top of the stretchy fabric, he gripped it tightly as he raised his eyes to meet hers. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she shot him a look he'd seen dozens of times over the years. He knew it instantly for what it was—silent dare—and for a few tenths of a second, they held each other's gaze, his dark eyes locked with her pale ones. Booth shifted his jaw from one side to the other, then his brown eyes darkened and, closing his fists around the fabric, he pulled sharply, tearing the bra apart at the front seam. The sweat-damp fabric stretched as the threads gave way with a loud rriiippp and the garment fell open in the front, letting Brennan's breasts bounce free, their nipples taut as Booth's eyes quickly swiveled down to admire the hard points that emerged from the dark, rosy pebbled flesh.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice somewhere between a growl and a rasp as she stepped away and shrugged out of the ruined garment.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked, his eyes dark and burning with a feverish want she hadn't seen in a long time. His hands dangled loosely at his sides as his mouth hung open, his breaths rising and falling more heavily with each passing second.

"You asked to see me really give you the best I've got," she said. "And so you do this? That's idiotic, Booth."

"But it got your attention, didn't it?" he replied, his voice dripping with snark. "You drive me out of my fucking mind, woman, bouncing around with those goddamn tits hangin' out, taunting me like this when you know I've been beside myself wanting you. I haven't been inside of you since before Kathryn was born." She felt gaze drilling into her as he spoke. "Of course, if you'd told me that there was a chance that I'd get you in bed more often when we were apart then now when we've swapped out the bands of gold and are living in the same place and time, I'd said you were nuts. But it's true, if you think about it. We were s'posed to be able to be together a couple weeks ago, but then I had to go down to Durham with Wendell to deal with that case at Duke, and you still had the flu. I'm goin' outta my damn mind here, Bren." His nostrils flared wide as he growled and took a step closer. "So what do you think I want?"

"So suddenly you want sex now?" she asked, her voice dropping a half-octave, her narrowed eyes flashing brightly as she glared at him. "Is that it? And if so why do you think I'm gonna give it to you?"

Booth gave her a flat look that directly challenged her words. "For fuck's sake, Bren," he muttered. "I know it, you know it, and there's no denyin' it, lass." His eyes narrowed in a prurient way as he licked his lips and drank in the sight of her. He narrowed his eyes and took another step towards her, his hands propped firmly on his hips. "Because," he said in a low, ragged voice, "even though I can't smell you the way I used to, I can still tell when you want it. When you want me. And though you damn near knocked my lights out, it's plain as fuckin' day you want it, too, Bren. You can't hide that from me. You never could. Not then, and not now."

"You fucking cocky bastard," she hissed, closing the distance between them with a single long-strided step as she reached for the bottom hem of his white tank T-shirt. "You think you're so fucking smart and so fucking suave." She tugged at it, pulling it up as her eyes met Booth's, his hands briefly falling to his sides. "So fucking smart—and so fucking cocky." Brennan's eyes narrowed suddenly and she jerked his shirt up, smirking as she watched his arms go up as he let her peel the T-shirt over his head.

"You fucking know it," he growled back at her, watching his T-shirt fall to the floor out of the corner of his eye. "And you fucking love me for it," he added, reaching for her hips and letting his hands rest there for a short moment before hooking his thumbs under the waistband of her black yoga pants. "God, you're so fucking hot—and so fucking hot for me, aren't you?" Booth's eyes swiveled up to her chest and he stood there, holding the elastic waistband of her pants as he watched her breasts sway ever so slightly with each heaving breath she took. He felt his mouth water at the sight of her nipples, pebbled, hard and darkened to a dusky rose, and his balls seemed painfully heavy and tight as the last thread of his patience snapped. "You can't fucking wait," he said, his voice low and as rough as gravel as he slipped his hands under her waistband and began to slide her pants down her hips. "I know I sure as fuck can't."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for, Booth?" she muttered back at him, her breath hitching in her throat as she said his name and felt his palms sliding down the side of her thighs as he pulled both her pants and her underwear down in a single jerk.

A low rumble rounded from deep in Booth's throat as his hands moved back up to her hips, his fingertips pressing hard into her flesh as he twirled her around roughly and pushed her towards the dark brown leather chair that she'd had made for him ninety years before.

"Nothin'," he huffed, giving her a final push as she fell face-first into the chair. "I'm not waiting for a fuckin' thing, Bones."

He held her there with his hand splayed against the small of her back as she braced herself with her hands on the cushion of the leather chair. Booth grabbed her pants with his free hand and pulled them the rest of the way off her legs with a couple of rough jerks before tossing them to the side with a grunt. A crooked smile broke across his face as his eyes drank in the sight of her apple-shaped ass, still a bit plumped by the weight she'd put on during pregnancy. He reached down and undid his Army belt buckle, quickly plucking open the button of his jeans and unzipping them before shoving them down his thighs.

"Then don't," Brennan said breathlessly, turning her heels as she widened her stance in anticipation, her hips twisting a little as she felt a flush of liquid warmth between her legs. "Don't wait."

Booth sucked in a sharp breath at hearing her words and, after a fleeting moment of pause, pushed away from her and shucked his jeans and boxer-briefs off, wriggling out of them and kicking them to the side, sliding out of his socks as he took a step closer. He placed his left hand on the small of Brennan's back, his fingers fanned wide over a place that he'd long ago marked as his territory, before he ever regained the memory of her having been his for longer than two lifetimes. His fingers curled around her side, pressing so firmly into her flesh that he left red marks as he held himself, thick and hard as steel, in his other hand.

He leaned over her, pressing his hips against her round white ass as he drew his thick, swollen knob along the damp cleft between her folds. She hissed at the contact and rotating her hips to give him the best possible access to her throbbing core, which pulsed with each pounding beat of her heart as she panted in anticipation.

"Come on, Booth," she groaned. "What are you waiting for?"

"Not a fucking thing," he growled through gritted teeth as he pressed into her, his thick cock opening her up while his large, strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him as he buried himself balls-deep inside of her. "Jesus fucking Christ," he sighed as he felt her hot, silky walls envelop him completely. "Oh my fucking God, lass..."

Brennan sucked in a sharp breath as Booth withdrew, then moaned loudly as he rammed home again, burying himself inside of her with a low grunt. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, Brennan found herself totally overcome with the sensation of feeling him inside of her once again after almost eleven weeks. Each time he rolled his hips back and drove into her, she felt a surge of electricity race up her spine and crackle through every nerve ending to the very tips of her fingers and toes, and each time he withdrew, she felt every inch of him pull away until only the very tip of him lay inside of her, and her body seemed to scream with want of him, tightening around what little of him she remained within her so that when he did stroke into her again, every one of her senses seemed to explode, and she threw her head back and cried out with the pleasure of it.

For his part, after three or four rolling strokes, Booth could no longer think at all. His mind had blanked out completely, and the only thing he was aware of was the all-encompassing feeling of being swallowed up by her: the way her body tightened around him, fitting him as snug as a leather glove even though she'd just had a baby not three months before; the way the globes of her ass filled his big hands as he drove into her; the moans, sighs, gasps, grunts and groans that she made each time he pounded into her with his cock; and the way her skin, sticky with sweat from her yoga and their sparring, glistened in the warm morning light and stuck so deliciously to his each time he bottomed out inside of her, bringing his sweaty thighs and abdomen flush against her legs and ass.

"Oh, fuck," she sighed, drawing a quick breath as she felt him pull out before jerking back inside of her.

"That's fucking right, lass," he growled as he pounded into her, realizing that the loping rhythm he'd maintained was rapidly turning into a randomly-spaced series of grunting strokes as his self-control quickly unraveled.

"Oh, fuck...fuck...fuck," Brennan muttered, her muscles tensing as she braced herself, clasping the arms of the old leather chair with white knuckled-hands as he drove into her with unrelenting force. She felt the room begin to spin around her as the coils of release tightened deep in her belly. "Oh, my God, Booth, fuck!" She opened her eyes briefly, staring at the richly-dyed brown leather of the Mérida chair, struggling to keep her forehead from contacting the cushioned back of the chair as her husband's almost brutal fucking rocked her body with each pounding stroke.

Booth squeezed the soft, springy flesh of her round hips tightly as he gritted his teeth and uttered a long growl, tucking his chin against his chest as he rolled his hips back and drove into her harder and deeper with each stroke. Curling his hands around her hips, somewhere in the dark recesses of Booth's mind he realized her he felt his fingernails dig into her flesh, but he didn't care. He could barely feel his toes and was utterly unable to form words as his mouth fell open in a long groan.

"Oh, fuck...fuck...fuck, Booth..."

Brennan winced as a particularly hard stroke seared her with a flash of pleasure so intense it was nearly painful. The blurry haze before her eyes flashed blue as the familiar electric charge crackled in the narrow space between her bare skin and his, only seconds before she felt a sensation of dizzying weightlessness as it seemed that the floor beneath her had fallen away, opening up a trapdoor as she felt herself fall apart, shattering around him as her body suddenly clenched and then fractured into a quaking wave of release.

No sooner had Brennan's body tightened around him than did Booth felt his body respond in kind, his balls hitching hard as points of blue static dotted his skin and made the hair on his arms stand on end as the muscles of his belly clenched, allowing him one last arcing stroke up into her before he, too, broke, grunting as his body shuddered, emptying into her with a series of white hot pulses that left him light-headed in their wake.

For a minute, either of them spoke, and the room around them was silent but for the sound of their heaving breaths which were inaudible to the two of them, their ears being filled with the roaring sound of their own blood as their hearts thundered in their chests.

They stood that way, her crouched over the Mérida chair, her head hanging low from her shoulders as she caught her breath, and him, standing behind her, arched over her sweat-damp back as he could barely stand on his own after the knee-meltingly intense way he'd come.

After a minute, when Booth could finally feel his legs again, he stepped away, slipping out of her as he stumbled backwards. Brennan turned around and, glancing at him through heavy-lidded eyes, crumpled to the floor at the foot of the chair and collapsed against the yoga mat. A couple of seconds later, still wobbly on his feet, Booth let out a long, relieved breath and joined her on the mat, laying on his back as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for his heaving breaths to return to some semblance of normal.

Shaking her head as if trying to regain some portion of her senses, Brennan murmured under her breath as she moved to sit up. She rolled into a sitting position, swallowing a smile when she heard Booth grunt at the small jab she'd made with her foot when she'd moved. Thirsty from the combination of the sparring and their impromptu round of sex, Brennan's eyes darted around for the bottle of water that she knew she'd discarded at some point before they'd started bantering with one another in more ways than one. Spying it on the console table that sat behind her couch, she stretched her body to reach for it. After a minute, she let out a small yelp of triumph when she clasped it, unscrewed the white plastic cap, and then proceeded to start quickly draining its contents. However, when Booth sat up, and gave her a rather pitiful look that he normally reserved for when chocolate chip cookie dough, ice cream, and beers were concerned, Brennan rolled her eyes as she lowered the bottle from her lips.

"Oh, fine," she muttered extended the bottle with a few mouthfuls of water remaining in its plastic confines to him. "Here."

The pitiful look on Booth's face quickly disappeared as he sat up, took the bottle, and flashed her a toothy grin. "Thanks," he said even as he lifted the bottle to his thinset lips and quickly drained what few mouthfuls of water remained.

Brennan watched him for a moment, and then a thought occurred to her. "Booth?" she asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Earlier," she began. "When you made that comment about it never going well for you when you sparred with women you were in love with?" She paused as she narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you mean by that?"

Booth flushed a bit as he considered her question. Mentally wincing, he said, "Uhhh, you...you caught that, huh?"

Brennan nodded once. "You know fine details like that rarely escape my attention."

"Right," he muttered. "Of course."

"So," Brennan pressed him. "What did you mean? Because I know it couldn't be that you were referring to anything that you and I'd done over the years since...well, I mean, yes. We did, and do, verbally spar quite often, I suppose, but outside of sex, we haven't really physically ever sparred like this, so..." Brennan paused and then added, "You weren't talking about me I assume? Because, I mean, I think it's fair to say that it's statistically unlikely that I would be able to conceive a second child so soon after Kathryn's birth given how you only seem to go at me like you just did and display the sort of sexual stamina that remotely approaches the days of Angelus. One might think you were just in the process of impregnating me again..." Brennan gave him a pointed look as her head tilted and she nodded.

For his part, Booth swallowed once and paled a bit about the greater implication that Brennan's words had. Wait, Booth thought. She couldn't..I couldn't get her pregnant again so soon, like this, just now...a second time? His pulse quickened a bit again as he recalled what both he and Brennan believed to be the fluke regarding their daughter's conception. Then he quickly broomed the idea from his head. Naww. I'm good, but I'm not that good. Quickly shaking off the thought, he recentered and refocused on her second implication after a delayed processing of the insinuation in her wording.

"Now just a damn minute, Bones," Booth said. "You sayin' you got some complaints here about how long I've been able to go in the sack with you? Because I think we just proved I'm doing just fine in that department sans fangs, thank you very much."

Shrugging, Brennan shook her head as she said, "I have no complaints-"

"Thank you very much," Booth interjected.

Continuing on, Brennan said, "Although, our sparring today did degenerate into sex, I suppose perhaps there might be some link to our verbal sparring—"

"Hey!" Booth immediately complained, an indignant look crossing his face. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I mean, come on, Bones. Degenerate? It wasn't that horrible was it?"

Wise to her husband's ways, Brennan shook her head and said, "Stop trying to evade, Booth."

"Who says I'm trying to evade?" he immediately countered, although he knew by the way the corners of Brennan's mouth were twitching that she was on to him.

"I do," she said. "Now, come on. Focus. And, tell me. What did you mean by the sparring comment?"

Booth let out a heavy sigh and then said, "Fine. I'll tell you, but if you go off, just remember that you're the who asked me."

"Agreed," Brennan said.

"And," he said, leveling a questioning stare at her. "If I tell you, then I have a question of my own that I want answered."

"You want to know about why I said what I said about Spike, I suppose?" Brennan asked him.

Not certain if he should be annoyed or not that she knew him that well, he slowly nodded. "Yeah. I do," he said.

"Fair enough," Brennan said. "But, you go first."

Booth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I should've known that one was coming," he said. Shaking his head, he nodded, "Well, okay. There was this one time with Cordy, right before all hell broke loose with Darla and—"

Holding up her hand, Brennan said, "Wait."

"What?"

"I don't need details," Brennan said suddenly.

"You don't?" Booth blinked at her in surprise. "But, I thought you said—"

"Cordelia. Sparring. Got it," Brennan nodded sharply.

Booth couldn't help but let out a large sigh of relief as he wondered how in the hell he'd just gotten off the hook without even really trying on his part.

"But—" Brennan then added.

"Awww, damn," Booth muttered. Brennan shot him a look, and he tried to look slightly contrite as he said, "Sorry. You were saying?"

"It just occurs to me that you've never really given me a satisfactory answer about a lingering question I've long had," Brennan said.

"And, what was that?" Booth asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

"I know I've asked you before, but you never really gave me a good answer," Brennan repeated. "That is...why...when you had the chance, did you prefer to engage in a romantic relationship with Cordelia over Winifred?"

Booth mentally groaned as he rolled his bottom lip between his tongue and thought about it for a minute and then said, "Well. I, uhhh, I never really thought about it."

"Liar," Brennan immediately cut him off with a knowing smirk. "I know you have ever since I brought it up that night we were arguing in your penthouse on the night you fucked Eve. So, spill, Booth."

He rolled his eyes at her for a minute and then said, "Okay, fine. But again, remember you're the one who asked."

"Okay," Brennan nodded again.

"The thing with Fred and Pylea happened just around the time that we all thought Buffy had died—" he saw Brennan tense when he mentioned the Slayer's name and then nodded at her as he said, "Remember, you did ask."

"Fine," Brennan grumbled. "Continue."

"Fred had this huge crush on me since I'd sorta done the knight-in-shining armor thing and just saved her, but I was just starting to kinda admit that what I felt for Cordy was more than friendship. But, then, Buffy died and...well, you know what a mess I was. And, when I came back, the thing with Fred...well, it just wasn't going to work because..."

"Why?"

"Because," Booth said as he leveled his gaze at her. "Every time I saw Fred, the truth is that I was attracted to her. In a lot of ways, more than what I felt for Cordy. We were better matched. But, the plain fact of the matter was, every time I looked at Fred, I just kept asking myself why I was comparing her to you. And, I knew that wasn't fair. So, I, uhh—well, I put the kabosh on it." He stopped and then tilted his head as he chuckled, "In another time and place? Then, yeah, something between Fred and I might've happened. She was one of only two people in this entire world who saw the evil in me...up close and super personal, and she still was never afraid of it, the darkness, I mean. But, I already had this one spot in my heart carved up and occupied by a genius squint lab rat tall brunette, and well...I didn't want to hurt Fred by being with her at a time when I would simply wonder why I was with her and not with you."

Angel took a moment and then titled his head. "Do you remember back after the Great Halloween Compulsion Debacle of '03?" Booth asked. He watched Brennan's face tilt ever so slightly as she resisted the urge to rail at him for something they both knew was a sore spot for her. Instead, showing perhaps a moment of growth and evolution that she didn't respond in anger, Brennan remained quiet. Her silence was as close to an acknowledgement that Angel had not borne all culpability for his actions that night despite how angry she had been. And in that acknowledgement, it was marked that perhaps, just perhaps some of her old insecurities regarding Angel and other women that had rotated in and out of his life had started to dissipate. She let him continue without comment. Booth considered it a win and took what he could get as he resumed speaking.

"Well, that was why it was so important for me to introduce you two, Bren," he told her. "I really wanted you two to know each other because I think you could've been friends in another time and place. Really good friends, when I know you've never had a lot." Booth paused for a few seconds and then a sadness crept on his face. "I'm just sorry that you never got to know her in that way. Before we lost her? And Illyria took over and Fred was gone? I…I think, well, I think you…well, you two could've been something good for one another. I know both of you never made friends easily. So I'd hoped maybe that both of you would come out with a new person you could turn to and rely on in the times that I wasn't around."

Brennan's face saddened a bit at the mention of the loss of one of the few women that Angel had never slept with, never been with in that way, and so had truly been a friend that she had never felt threatened by. "I did like her," Brennan finally admitted with a nod. "She was nice. And smart. And loyal. And she always had your back. What happened to her when she was sacrificed so Illyria could return. It wasn't fair or right. I'll always remember her for that. She…well, Booth, yeah. I think you're right. Fred was…Fred was a good person. And even though I didn't know her that well, I miss her."

"She was a good friend…and made me realize how much I wanted and needed you even then." He stopped and gave her a playful grin as he added, "That's not the answer you were expecting now, was it?"

Smiling a soft smile that she reserved for him alone, Brennan shook her head. "No, it wasn't." Hesitating for a minute, realizing that her turn had come, Brennan sighed. "As for my part, about William-"

"The epic douchewad to end all snot nosed, heartless, dickless douchewads," Booth grunted.

Brennan rolled her eyes as she waited for Booth to finish. After a beat, she asked, "Done yet?"

Shaking his head, Booth responded. "Not even close," he told her with a wave of his hand. "Still best get on with things lest I go on too much of a tear."

"Well," Brennan said as she licked her lips. "I think...I think, although he'd never admit it, but I think William felt sorry for me after he'd found out what had happened between you and the Midlife Crisis." Brennan let her eyes go to Booth's as, despite her new attempt to be a tad more secure than she had been in the past regarding his romantic life outside of her, she still couldn't bring herself to use the name 'Buffy Summers.' "He'd felt that he'd lost the love of his life when Drusilla did what Drusilla always does, and I guess misery loves company. So he told me because, he said, he knew he'd have wanted to be told if he was in my position because 'I deserved better.'"

"Fucker-" Booth grunted. "Mother fucker-"

Shaking her head, Brennan leaned forward and placed a gentle finger to his lips. "He meant well."

"Like hemorrhoids mean well when I've got a chaffed ass," Booth uttered.

"Booth," she sighed. "If you can't be nice to Spike at least try to stay focused, huh?"

Brennan only received a grunt in response.

"I'll take it," Brennan finally nodded. Than she smiled as she nodded, "Who knows...if I can one day learn to use the Mid-Life Crisis's name maybe you'll learn to be nice to William."

"Dumb fuckin' fat chance of that," Booth said as he nodded at her.

"Maybe," Brennan agreed. "Although you did forget one other fine point," she said as she crawled toward him with a distinctly predatory look in her eyes that left no doubt in his mind what she was going to do to him when she got there.

"What's that?" he still asked with baited breath.

"About, Fred?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Well," Brennan began. "In a way, I'm the best of both worlds, right?" she blinked as she crawled on top of him, knocked the empty water bottle out of his hand, and pressed her naked body against his. "Genius squint lab rat who's a tall brunette just like Fred," Brennan muttered as she leaned in for a kiss.

"And you've got better tits than even Cordy had," Booth groaned as she reached for him. "And, that's saying something, just for the record."

Brennan's only response was to shove her tongue as far down Booth's throat as it would go, effectively ending that portion of the conversation. Quite happily. For both of them.

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~The End~

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A/N2- Well. That certainly took longer than expected. ::glances at watch:: By about a decade. Umm. Yeah. Sorry about that. Life. And stuff. Happens. The good news is the 9-story Angelus-Angel-Booth/Brennan opus is now complete. But it isn't over by a longshot. The particular maggot that got into my head regarding this pairing so many years ago has reawakened and so has helped me to get my butt in gear & dust off the binders of written chapters and ideas I've been sitting on for so many years. I will be posting a number of Angelbooth/Brennan pieces in the coming weeks. First up will be a new anthology piece called "Another Compendium of Missing Moments." These are short scenes that I just have no where to put into the larger narrative but are too good not to share. There is no rhyme or reason to content, time, place or setting beyond the fact that Brennan and Angelbooth (occasionally Angelus) are the stars. The second piece of better news is that a new sequel story (that I've got about half-written) continuing the tales of Booth and Brennan in DC is written, and I'm going to start posting it. It covers basically the second-half of season 4 and goes into season 5 of Bones cannon. The title is "No One Stays Dead Forever." Coming soon to a fanfic archive near you. In the meantime, I appreciate any reviews. Thanks for reading!