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

Chapter Six

Temperance was running through her accumulated to do list and trying to prioritize when her cell started ringing.

"Brennan."

"Hey. Miss me?"

She could hear the grin in his voice. "Yes. I take it you got to work safely Sweety?" trying to insert enough sarcasm that he would ignore the truth of the initial statement.

Seeley's grin got wider at her snarked admission, but he decided not to make a point of it; getting along with Bones had it's pleasures, and annoying her wasn't half as fun when he wasn't there to see it. "You betcha. So, I forgot to ask, what do you want to do for supper?"

He'd actually argued with himself about whether to make it a question or a given that they would be together tonight. Then he'd remembered the uncertainty in her eyes on Sunday. She may have decided she wanted to be with him, but she obviously had doubts about which page they were on, and he didn't want to give those any fostering. So, full out offensive; if she needed private time, he knew she wouldn't hesitate to tell him off.

Her instinctive response was to say she was working. Until she realized with a shock that she did miss him already, and she remembered she'd promised herself she'd try that 'living' thing. Maybe going home at a reasonable time would get her points. She was speaking before the rest of the thoughts rushing in could fully form into hesitation, "I haven't shopped in ages, whereas I know your cupboards are full."

Booth rolled his eyes, smiling, both at the continuation of their argument during yesterday's food shopping; and at having her almost admit she wanted to come over for supper. "So, see you at 6? And Temperance, " his voice dropped deliberately, "bring your overnight bag." He hung up before she could find a riposte, smiling and feeling good about his life for the first time in a long time. He had to very deliberately wipe the smile off his face before stepping out of the elevator. The Bureau was not a job where walking into work cheerful was particularly encouraged.

Ending the call, Temperance stared blankly at the papers in front of her. She had never chosen a man over backlogged work. Leaving early, taking a day off when there was nothing with a deadline on, maybe. But with three weeks of work waiting...

Anthropologically speaking, choosing to pursue a personal relationship was part of her genetic makeup. And there was no denying that Booth had all the qualities to make a desirable mate. But the habits of a lifetime did not lend themselves to an easy transition. What had seemed easy and simple on the weekend now had ramifications and demands that she knew she'd most likely fail to meet.

The doubts she'd held at bay when Angela had questioned her were now front and centre. She actually enjoyed working cases with Booth; there was an undeniable pleasure in seeing first-hand the results of what she uncovered, in seeing the perpetrators of the horrors she had to analyse put behind bars. And no one but Booth would be willing to let her play her part in investigations. So if she failed, if they couldn't keep the balance between their skirmishes and the affection they were discovering for each other... She would lose a friendship she was starting to depend on, a relationship that made her feel complete and completely normal for the first time; and she would also lose this new path her career had taken.

But it was too late; she accepted that they had both taken the mental steps into this relationship. The bridge planks were falling behind them as they lifted their feet from each one and took another step toward tomorrow, for good or ill. She wasn't sure when Booth had stepped onto the bridge, but she remembered feeling the epipany's calming presence when she woke on Saturday; and sunday's talk had shown clearly that he was right beside her, holding to the same frayed ropes.

By the time they'd gotten up Saturday, it'd been closer to one than noon and they'd been starving. Teasing and playful, Booth in his sweats, she in his dress shirt, they'd fed each other anything they could find that didn't require work. Every few bites, their eyes would cross and he would grab the front of her shirt, pull her close for another deep, leisurely kiss. Then he'd beg for a taste of whatever was in her hand, starting them laughing again.

Angela would be thrilled at how Booth could incite her to play without even trying. There had always been times together when the playfulness, the smile, would just force itself out of her. His little boy grin was a frequent culprit, making her agree with him, making her smile when she should be sending him on his way. And now, he'd relaxed some restraint that had previously kept their play from turning physical. And she had spent their day and a half weekend thoroughly enjoying the unaccustomed contact, both tactile and emotional.

Food hunger finally sated, the weeks of sleep deprivation had once again caught up to them and they'd found themselves drowsing, Booth leaning back against the kitchen counter, she on his chest. When her feet started to feel the chill of the cold floor tiles, she'd pulled herself up against his grumbly protest and then led him back to bed, feeling so very at home.

"Dr. Brennan?"

She jerked up from laying out the forms to set up folders, realizing she'd been daydreaming. "Yes, Zack?" This would not do! She really needed to remember how to concentrate. Work still had to be work.

As she followed Zack to his troublesome skull reconstruction, she made herself stop thinking about relationships, living and working.

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Grumbling about the piles of paperwork that were without doubt continuing to replicate on his desk, Seeley shrugged out of his coat and suit, rolling up his sleeves and undoing buttons as he strolled into the kitchen.

Reaching in the cupboard and seeing her junk food next to his health food stopped him in his tracks for a second. He smiled slowly, taking a deep breath and enjoying the thought that he wouldn't be alone tonight. That he was looking forward to something other than work. That he had hope for his future again.

He laughed at himself as he reached for oil and onions; they'd never even been on a date, and he was picturing her as a fixture in his life. There was no denying that if he could have repeats of the weekend to look forward to, the rest of life's annoyances and pains would be bearable.

As he threw sausages on top of the onions in a baking dish and put it into the oven, he remembered being worried that having a relationship with Temperance would take work, remembered thinking that she would be as distant personally as she'd been professionally when they first teamed up. And that he would have to be patient to convince her to share her life rather than just a few controled bits of it.

Starting on batter, he snorted at himself; so much for his gut instincts! Whatever had made her decide to make a move on him Friday night, she'd kept to it on waking rested Saturday, and hadn't yet shown hesitation in letting him get close.

After breakfast on Sunday, she'd wandered over to his CD collection and they'd ended up spending the rest of the morning vigorously discussing musical merits. Gesturing rants and bursts of laughter. They agreed on a surprising combination of scores, and mocked each other up and down on the rest. Both trying to get a rise out of the other. He loved the playful side of her nature, and felt oh so proud that he'd made it into the small group of people she showed it to.

Then she'd insisted on making lunch, which to his hilarity had turned out to be grilled cheese sandwiches, although she'd wanted to add a salad; which had led to their trip to the market around the corner. Walking up and down the aisles ribbing each other over almost every item picked.

If he'd thought that getting the sexual tension out in the open would make them get along more smoothly, he'd now given that up as a pipedream. Oddly enough, he didn't really regret it. Arguing with Bones was almost as much fun as watching her be annoyed with him.

Almost as much of a pleasure as making love with her.

His hand slowed in the process of stirring, thoroughly distracted. Slow and soft on Saturday, mad and passionate on Sunday.

Somehow there was no mention of getting Bones' car, or even going to her place for fresh clothe. They were enjoying each other, enjoying being together without the grimness of death, or the danger of an investigation.

They'd started watching The Thomas Crown Affair after she'd admitted to once watching Remington Steele. By the time Mr. Crown seduced Ms. Russo into the horizontal mambo, his arm around her shoulders had become Temperance in his lap, kissing him fit to make him forget where they were. The kisses, slow and soft, had eventually tapered off, turning to cuddling as they finished the movie and moved to making supper.

Memories of laughing as Bones 'helped' him in the kitchen reminded him she was due any time. Almost as the thought came, he heard her car in the drive. Glad to have finished in time, he smirked as he walked to the door and opened it before she could knock. Wrapping one arm around her, he ignored her growl of protest and dragged her to him, bag and all, and closed the door, leaning his forearms against it with Bones stuck between, shooting visual daggers at his grin.

After a second, he decided she wasn't going to gut-punch him after all and leaned in to kiss her. Hard and deep; the frustration of a day at work after spending every second of the weekend together. A promise of the night to come. Yeah, he could handle this for the rest of his mortal life.

When her hands, sunk in his hair, applied pressure to push him back, they broke and stood panting for air.

"Miss me?"

Her breathless question had him choking on a laugh until he finally caught his breath enough to tell her supper would be ready in 20 minutes. He picked up her dropped bag and handed it to her with a last kiss.

Watching her walk to his bedroom to drop her bag and wash up, he decided he must be doing something good in his life to deserve this.

AN: The recipe Booth was making is 'Toad-in-the-hole with red onions and thyme batter', very yummy, and easy to make, and since he was in the army, I figure there's at least some chance of his having encountered it.