Title: Slow hands
Author: wanderingsmith
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Who's playing that music? And who's going to tango...
Warning: BB

Author's ramble: anyone remember the dance scene in The bridges of madison county? I like eastwood, don't get me wrong, but he's not one that I associate with romantic roles. at least not past the kind of implied associations that most movies include for mass appeal. yet, he and meryl managed to.. bring to mind(?), make you feel (?) more sensuality than the best of Dirty dancing (IM humble O). vbg I bet booth could do at least as well. sigh since we got the bar dance, I don't suppose there's even the remotest chance.. ah well, on to my daydreams!

Chapter three

Arousal warred with exhaustion, but the slower music reluctantly conspired to convince Booth this was the wrong night to make a move on his lady scientist. He signed softly, cuddling his Bones even closer as they continued to shuffle softly around her office.

Gazing at people,
Some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going thru
They can understand.

The Moody Blues, a darkened room and a sexy woman leaning back against him in age-old surrender; Booth's eyes slid shut, 'this is what life's about'. His head drooped tiredly forward and came to rest against hers; the faint vanilla from her shampoo tempting him to nuzzle in even closer.

Temperance laughed softly at the image of Booth as a cuddly puppy. Of it's own volition, her hand moved from his neck to trace his cheek, feeling the rarely seen scruff; warm sandpaper. The faint scratchy sensation faded to nothing as he turned his head and pressed his lips to her fingers; so soft, Temperance turned her head slowly as his lips formed the lyrics onto her fingertips.

'cause I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Oh, how, I love you.

His eyes never opened as her fingertips guided his unresisting lips to hers. She felt the last vibration of his voice, then he kissed her back. Time held no meaning as she turned in his arms and their hands glided over each other; tried to get ever closer, as their lips met, clung, and released to meet again. Temperance wondered later that an innocent kiss could be so intimate, that she and Booth could have managed to keep it innocent; but at that moment, she just felt. She didn't remember their noses bumping, or that first touch of his body.. only the sense of intimacy, safety, tender care; the sudden certainty that she'd never felt whole before, never been safe.

The last song had long since ended when Booth's tiredness overcame the sweet drug of affection he'd surrendered to. Reluctantly easing out of the kiss, he tilted his head back, the hand buried in Bones' hair bringing her head to rest on his heart as he took a deep slow breath, trying not to sway, faintly afraid his legs would collapse under them both. He laughed softly, "You make me dizzy, woman." His soft voice in the silent room woke Temperance from the half drowse his heartbeat had put her in.

She lifted her head to respond; she was sure his words deserved sarcasm, or at least teasing. But the effort to think was more than she could accomplish. Instead, she shook her head at him, unconsciously tilting it slightly. As she stood looking at his widening smile, she saw her couch beyond him and started moving to it.

Her arm still holding him brought Booth around and his feet automatically joined hers toward the needed rest. There was no thought involved when she grabbed the blanket off the arm and Booth pulled her down over him, the blanket draped down her back, her head returning to it's spot over his breastbone as he wrapped his arms around her.

Through the descending fog of much needed sleep, Temperance felt him kiss her temple and mutter what sounded like 'Sweet dreams'. She was smiling as they both dropped into the arms of Morpheus.

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Booth woke lightly, his body following a lifetime's habit and taking a deeper breath before turning on his side to relieve the muscle stiffness that he was only barely conscious of. Or he tried to. The weight on his chest restrained his breath and made him wake completely, a small frown drawing his brows together as he opened his scratchy-feeling eyes. The auburn hair sprawled on his chest slowly dragged his memory up. Bones. Dancing. He grinned. Kissing.

For a moment, he basked in that memory. But the muscle stiffness that had woken him in the first place was still there; and the knowledge that he'd eventually need to face Temperance sobered his slightly manic state of mind. The frown returned as he started to realize how out of it they'd both been. He didn't have any regrets for what he'd done, but everything he knew about Bones made any chances of her feeling the same slim at very best.

Nonetheless, they needed to get up, or he at least, would be paralysed come morning.

He took one last breath, freezing this memory alongside the precious few moments he had with Parker. He wrapped his right arm around Bones, his left not responding, "Come on Sleepy-Bones, on your feet Babe.", he spoke softly as he sat them up with protesting back muscles. The exhausted woman in his arms gripped his already mussed shirt closer for a moment before she tensed and raised her head.

He smiled at her heavy lidded eyes as he held in a yawn and brought them both to their feet. "We need to get to a bed Bones, this one'll kill me by morning." He kept his voice soft and waited for her to find her death glare and lock him out of her personal life.

Temperance tried to remember if she'd ever been so tired in her life. His words barely registered past the instinct to rest her head back on it's pillow. Pillow. Bed. Booth. "Yours is closer."

Booth heard her slurred words and couldn't hold back a brief grin when she followed them with burrowing back into him. He had to remember this; a tired Bones was a cuddly, cooperative Bones... He rolled his eyes as he remembered what it took to get her this tired. Oh well, spunky Bones made life interesting; most of the time.

Walking slowly to respect his tired legs, not to mention the zombie in his arms, he got them both out of the pitch-black museum and safely to his SUV.

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Bones was fast asleep by the time he made it home and Booth went and opened his front door before returning to the passenger side. The time concentrating while he drove, combined with the night chill as he got out of the car had him almost feeling human for the time being. He reckoned as long as she didn't wake up and think she was being abducted, he should be able to carry his guest into the house; more safely than trying to get her walking.

As he walked through the door with Bones cuddled into his suit jacket again, he laughed at life's ironies and hoped he got a chance to tease her about carrying her over the threshold.

The car and house locked up, Booth stood watching Bones sleeping on his bed. It was intoxicating to pretend they were a couple, home late from an outing, Parker sleeping down the hall, taking his wife's boots and pants off so she could sleep comfortably. But reality intruded when he hesitated to take her shirt off too. He might get away with having seen Bones' panties with no more than accepting a beating, but anything else and he'd likely end up in hospital.

As he lay down on his side beside her, he drowsily thought it would have been worth it.

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For the second time, Temperance woke to purring in her ear. She'd almost slipped back to sleep when she realized the backdrop to the purring sounded suspiciously like a heartbeat. The notion was so odd that she was the rest of the way awake in an instant, her senses all taking stock before she moved. Warm, far more than usual. Harder bed.. not bed, skin. Her eyes flew open and she tried to sit up, even as memory of the night before returned. The scent of warm Booth and faint vanilla.

The arms locked around her kept her from rising, but her movement woke the man she was using as a pillow. She idly noticed the light shinning through the heavy curtains, 'must be late'. The light made it easy to see the wariness appear on Booth's features as his synapses kicked in. She settled her chin in her palm, one arm resting on his. bare. chest, "What are you worried about?"

The words were idle curiosity; she was busy immersing herself in her senses. For once grateful for Saturdays, she casually debated laying her free hand on his pectorals, or seeing how far he'd jump if she dropped her lips to the dark nub of a nipple.

His brows rose at the calm question in her voice, "What, you don't think I'm ever uncertain?" There was a slightly dreamy depth to her eyes that could be interpreted as a good sign; but then again, she might just still be overtired..

Temperance frowned at the tension she could feel in his body. "Ever, yes. I'm just not sure why you are now."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, the confidence in her voice starting to reassure him that she was awake and aware, "At best I figured you'd punch me and make me swear never to bring this up again; at worst, I expected to be sworn at and told to never show my face again. I never thought to hope you'd be content to be here."

Booth watched Temperance's eyes turn pensive. She wasn't sure herself why she was so content. She should be ready to run from this unaccustomed intimacy, should be slamming the doors on her emotions and chasing the far too handsome FBI agent out with enough technical jargon to keep him out. Yet the flight response was no more than an academic subject in her psyche. She could remember feeling carefree and happy the night before, soaked in affection and safety. Sailing on a sea of no cares; hadn't she heard that in a song once? She looked at the man she'd slept with; hair mussed, bare shoulders and chest, stubbled cheeks. She grinned. Bedroom eyes. She remembered kissing Booth. Angela would never believe that that would lead to feeling merely 'content' this morning.

But she was. She was rested from long, comfortable sleep, was warm and relaxed. She had the full attention of a devastatingly good-looking man without a shirt on. And at some point between 'quitting time' Friday and this morning, her subconscious had decided that it would be worth the teasing (from Angela) and aggravation (inevitable with Booth), to spend more time, private time, with this man. To make the effort to understand him, and let him understand her. To try this 'living' they kept saying could be wonderful.

Her hand reached up and curved around his cheek. "I like the beard." Clean and neat Booth was a treat for the eyes and hands, but she was finding rumpled, scrubby Booth an irresistible temptation for the senses.

Accepting for now that it was a good day, Booth's eyes slid closed again as he turned into the light caress. He signed happily, and the extra dose of oxygen brought not only energy, but mischief. Before she could react to his sudden wicked grin, he rolled until she was under him. "So the next time I need you to take a job for me, I could just show up scruffy, instead of making Goodman order you?"

Temperance watched his cocky grin and tried to decide how to keep him from getting any further out of line. Cocky Booth could be very adorable, as Angela would say, but he did need reigning in. And she was fairly sure that was part of the position she was going for in his life. She pretended to think, "Umm, let me think.. well, I'd enjoy the eye chocolate," she leered at him, "but I wouldn't count on your case getting any attention!"

Booth started laughing and ended up rolling them on their side to avoid crushing her. "Eye candy, Bones." Still chuckling, he framed her face in his hands and bent until she could breathe his words, "And being chosen over your bony friends," he touched his lips to hers once, "is an honour I will never let you forget you offered." This time there was no tiredness to keep the passion from taking over, and his lips returned to hers, open and hungry.

AN: the song at the beginning is 'Nights in white satin', by the Moody blues. 'Sea of no cares' is a song from Great big sea. Beta readers are always welcome, as are post-posting (?umm) 'readers'. I'm already working on the next couple chapters, the one I want to make NC-17, if my typing fingers would cooperate(!)

TBC in chapter 4