This Is Life

Lesson #2

This chapter is rated 'M' – because there will be sex herein.

A/N: I like the idea of Brennan and Booth playing a little game before having to define what's going on between them. Italics in this story indicate thought.

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The Jeffersonian Institute

Brennan ran her fingertips over the glossy photograph, her eyes ravaging the detail of the skull and she imagined that, if the bone had skin, the girl would be stunning in her beauty. It was sad that her death had been so tragic. And so long ago.

She looked down at her notes and flicked on a tape recorder. "Analysis of the remains indicate that they're over five hundred years old. Bones are that of a female, between eighteen and twenty five years," she sighed, resting her chin in her hand.

The recorder stopped, signifying the end of the tape.

Opening her drawer in search of a new one, Temperance caught sight of the time, and found herself sighing again. How could it already be nine thirty? Did she really spend so much time in the lab?

Goodman had been insistent on identification on the remains. He'd been roaming the lab like a giddy child – something so out of character for her boss. He picked through salvaged artefacts, commenting occasionally on the story that might lie behind them.

Changing the tapes around, Brennan hoped Angela would have a reconstruction of the face by morning.

Her door flew open with enough force to draw the blinds away from the glass. "Bones, really, do you know what time it is?" She dropped her hands to her desk, fanning her fingers over her notes and photographs. "What did we say about fun?" She threw a cautious glance at the still open door, thankful that the room beyond was empty.

"I have work to do, Booth," she said.

"Angela said you'd be working tomorrow, too. Which is convenient, because I have a mountain of paper work to finish. And since our workload doesn't permit us to have our day off, I was thinking we could do something tonight." He grinned cheekily, gesturing towards the door. "What do you say, Bones? How about it?"

Brennan cast another glance at the notes and realised a week had past since she'd spent personal time with Booth. They'd seen each other only once all week, and as he stood before he now, she realised how much she'd missed him. It wasn't this realisation that startled her. It was realising that she missed more than just his touch.

"Okay…" she said finally, neatly organizing her desk, closing the cover on the case. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty. She already put over 60 hours a week into her job, and she deserved a little down time. A little time to enjoy life, as Booth would say.

"Excellent. What do you want to do, Bones? Catch a movie?"

She shook her head, gesturing to the clock. "It's already too late for that, Booth. We could order some food, maybe?" Booth rattled his keys, nudging his head towards the door. Brennan smiled, pushing her chair back. "You're eager to get out of here. Still uncomfortable with us squints?" Booth shook his head slowly.

"I like everyone here, Bones, you know that. I'm just keen to spend a little," he held his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart, "time away from work. Like I said, I have a mountain of work to do tomorrow." Turning off the lights, Brennan felt a little wrong admitting how glad she was to be leaving her office. She remembered a time when nothing would have dragged her away from her job.

The air outside was balmy and scented with summer. Above her head, the stars twinkled majestically and Brennan stopped to examine them for a moment. She had spent such a long time absorbed in her profession that she forgot about the other things in life.

Booth encased her fingers in his, the warmth of his skin reminded her of humanity and companionship. "It's not a good idea, Booth," she warned, looking around the parking lot. There were still cars, still people working, and that meant they could be seen. She wasn't ready to explain the inner workings of their relationship. Especially when she didn't fully know herself.

"Bones, no one cares," he said, moving on until they stood next to his SUV.

"Angela does," Brennan argued, shifting against the side of his car, reluctant to release her hand from his. He brought his palms down, either side of her head, imprisoning her against the vehicle. She was embarrassed to admit that she liked it. He looked like a predator and he was the first man to challenge her physical strength that she didn't offer a swift kick in the balls to.

"Angela left as I arrived. She's gone, Bones." He lifted his right hand, stroking an errant strand of hair from her forehead. He leaned close, watching her closely, his eyes luminous, filled with curiosity and wonder. The small smile that toyed with his lips fell away and his eyes widened. Brennan frowned, concerned. He looked as though all the joy had been sucked out of his life. He looked miserable and she wondered what she'd done. "Let's go, Bones," he said, unlocking the car, and almost racing to his side.

When he got in, he turned the music up so loud, that it became apparent that he did not want to talk.

Fuck…

He repeated the explicative several times over, clenching the steering wheel with both fists.

Next to him, Brennan had turned away, facing the window, her expression sombre. She continually ran her palms nervously over her thighs, and he felt guilty. He'd been so elated when she agreed to leave early. She'd been on his mind all week and he'd been wishing his life away, just to reach Sunday.

How had he fucked up so royally?

Did being a sniper not teach you anything, Booth? He berated himself for his stupidity. Cool detachment. Emotional impassiveness. A sweat broke out across his brow, and he swiped it violently away. Damn his inability to control himself!

How had everything escalated so drastically in one week? Why did he look into her eyes and see a reflection of his own feelings? And more importantly, why had a week changed his life to the point where he could imagine nothing, if it didn't have Bones?

He recklessly ignored a red light, leaving a chorus of horns in his wake.

When had he fucking started to love her?

It was meant to be sex, Booth! Sex. You do remember what that is, don't you? No strings attached sex. Not commitment. Not…

He didn't want to think it. He had never admitted love to anyone. Not Tessa and if he was honest, not even Parker's mother. He was old fashioned at heart. Pregnancy should have meant marriage. But he didn't feel emotionally bound to her.

Oh how stupid could he have been?

"Booth?" Her voice was timid.

"What?" He snapped, flashing her a glare that conveyed the fury he felt inside. She recoiled.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." He sighed, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said, easing his foot off the accelerator. "Really." She nodded mutely, but the hurt was evident on her features. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, pulling in at the side of the road, she turned her head again, frowning.

"What are you doing?" Booth turned the stereo off and the silence was deafening. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the seat. Next to him, Brennan shifted, uncomfortable and concerned. "Booth? Are you alright?" Her insides quaked when he opened his eyes and fixed his impossibly dark gaze on her. She felt a mixture of trepidation and arousal and something so exciting she wondered how she'd spent so many years missing such a vital part of her existence. Booth has an intensity that scared the life out of her.

He cupped the back of her head, pulling her towards him, his touch so fierce and desperate that she the air flew from her lungs as she gasped. The sound was silenced by his mouth, hot and insistent against hers. The seatbelt dug into her side, but she ignored it, parting her lips, permitting his tongue to ravage hers.

Booth did not disappoint. She was reminded of the archives and how he'd kissed her in the dark, then. The streetlamps above their heads bathed them in a ghostly light, and she opened her eyes just long enough to see his long lashes against his cheeks as he pulled her closer, passing his tongue across hers.

She sighed, slipping her fingers into his hair, and with her other hand, confirming her suspicions that he was desperately aroused. He was hard beneath her palm, and heat radiated through the material. Brennan murmured against his lips, recalling much too vividly how good he'd felt when he was inside her.

Booth groaned into her mouth, his fingers pressing tenaciously at her breast, as though he simply couldn't touch enough of her.

A car sped past and they flew apart, flushed and gasping. Brennan pressed her fevered skin against the cool glass, breathing as though she'd been working out. Her cheeks felt hot and the skin beneath her clothes seared.

"Bones…" Booth fell forward, slamming his head repetitively against the steering wheel. "Christ, Bones, how do you…"

"Booth…" she sighed, closing her eyes, images of their kiss flashing rapidly against her eyelids. "We should go," she said, pulling her hair from her face. Booth nodded, straightening. The journey continued, the confines of the car filled with arousal, desperation and something neither of them wished to define.

He liked her apartment. There was a homely feminism about it that reminded him that Brennan wasn't all about work. She had a home and an outside life. As each day went by, however, he was intergrading him deeper and deeper into it.

She flicked the switch on a lamp, bathing the room in soft light. He remembered being here before, and how wacky she'd been, dancing idiotically with him to the music she didn't even own. Before he'd been almost blown apart.

He swallowed, stepping into her living room and removing his shoes without waiting for permission. It seemed hackneyed, pretending that there was some degree of formality between them. There wasn't. If they'd spent much longer, making out like horny school kids, he would have screwed her on the way home.

"Would you like a drink, Booth?" She asked, removing her own shoes.

"No thanks," Booth replied, detailing her apartment in his head.

"Do you want me to order some food, now?" He took her hand, stilling her movements. He moved close, pressing a breathless kiss to her throat.

"No, Bones. I don't want anything," he said, adoring how she seemed to fall into his embrace, her body melting. "Except maybe you." He had thought of barely anything but that moment all week. His paperwork was a shambles, his investigative technique shot to pieces. Bones played inside his mind, dangerously loud and insistent.

He brushed his hand over her spine, smiling when he thrust her hip against him, her lips parting. "Bones?" She hummed against him in response, her arms under his, her fingers stroking his shoulder blades. "Later, we need to discuss some things, okay?" She nodded mutely and he wondered if she heard him at all.

For now, though, he was contented with having her in his arms. "Take your clothes off, Bones. A week is long enough for me." She nuzzled his chest with her nose.

"Me too," she agreed, stepping back and taking his hand in hers.

The few steps they took to her bedroom seemed to last forever. He followed her, their eyes dancing over each other. Once inside, it was as though they'd been given permission to touch, to caress. Brennan pulled his tie from his throat, deftly flicking the buttons on his shirt, slipping her palms inside, touching him, relishing that she could do so.

His muscles seemed to quiver as she touched him through his pants. She was rewarded with a guttural moan and Booth tore at her shirt, brutal and demanding and not in the slightest bit gentle. She heard the predictable sound of a button as it flew across the room and hit the picture.

Naked, they fell against the pillows, a downy feather fluttering into the air, and down again. Booth smiled, taking the opportunity to study her in the light. She looked exquisite. Better than his wildest fantasies. He wished he could have seen her the first time they had sex.

Correction, he thought. Made love.

The realisation still made his chest ache with anxiousness.

He concentrated on the feather, taking it between his fingers and brushing it across her skin. Brennan trembled, her pupils dilated, crazed with need. He smiled. He passed the feather across her breast, satisfied at how her nipples hardened.

She sucked a breath as he stroked her breast bone, and circled her naval. Her knees shook and her fingers were unsteady as she reached out to stroke his hair. Booth leaned into her touch, continuing downward, circling her hipbone. She bent her knees and arched upwards, flexible and beautiful, craving more than the feather that whispered across her body, leaving her skin tingling everywhere it touched.

"Booth…" she sighed, tugging on his hair, bringing his lips down to meet hers. She couldn't taste him enough. She couldn't imagine being kissed by anyone else, ever again, and in the back of her mind, she knew this was a worrying concept. Booth was attracted to her physically, but emotionally, they had a lot of connecting to do.

Booth continued his ministrations, stroking her thigh, the motion urging them apart. Brennan craved to feel what he'd done to her last week. The memory of her most intense orgasm was almost enough to make her come again.

She touched his arms, hard and defined from much training and FBI physicals. Booth tossed the feather aside, moving until he hovered over her, drinking in the sight of wide blue eyes, rose-tinged cheeks and plump red lips. He adored her. He knew he could never just 'fuck' Brennan. She had crept into his soul.

His finger twisted in her reddish-brown hair, curling and uncurling as he watched her, watched her desperation mount before his eyes.

"You're an amazing woman, Bones," he said and she grinned.

When he permitted himself to slip inside her, Brennan exhaled sharply and he thought he might have hurt her. Except she didn't looked pained. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted and she murmured his name like a mantra. He revelled in her wetness, in how she felt around him.

She was amazing. Truly.

She met his thrusts with mutual vigour, their hips meeting and parting in a frenzied dance that was punctuated by sighs and the whisperings of endearments neither of them had ever spoken to anyone before.

He cupped her face, wondering if perhaps she looked as though she might cry. "You're beautiful, Temperance," he said, brushing his thumb across her lips. She murmured, wrapping her legs around his waist and inviting him deeper into her body. The sensation made his body tingle and he wondered if he were experiencing an epiphany

Suddenly things in life that he never understood before made perfect sense.

"Temperance," he breathed, thrusting twice more inside her. When he came, she quaked around him at just the same moment, calling his name, her nails digging into his shoulder. She thrashed in her own euphoria and then stilled, sated.

When his muscles regained enough strength to move, Booth slid to the other side of the bed, and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

"So," she yawned, stroking his jaw with her fingertip. "What did you want to talk about?"

Anyone think Brennan deserves to know?