Title: This is Life
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. No infringement intended.
Rating: This is rated T.
A/N: Well, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my story. I am enjoying it too, and I cannot believe how long it is now. I have a few plans of what I'm going to do with Brennan and Booth – so I hope you'll all come along for the journey. Anyway, reviews are the joy of my life – so don't forget to drop me a wee message! Thanks!
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"How's your dad?" Brennan asked, her knees drawn to her chest, nose buried in a hardback. Booth tipped the top of the book and she glanced up, smiling.
"He's getting better," he replied, sinking to his knees, taking her hands. "He apologised, finally, for being such an ass and I…" he rested his chin on the top of her knees, his fingers stroking her calves. "I explained that it takes a long time to forgive a man with few moral decencies. But my mother wouldn't want me to feel animosity towards my father. She was a very forgiving woman…"
Brennan unfolded her legs, bending forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "So are you," she said, stroking his cheek. "How are you feeling?" He settled between her legs, sinking his fingers into the hair that she'd allowed to dry naturally, basking in the loveliness of her wavy curls.
He skimmed her lips with his own, her breath caressing his skin as he hesitated, wishing to prolong the sweet anticipation of feeling her mouth against his. Her hands trembled on his shoulders, as he pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to her upper lip, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste her satiny skin.
He heard the quiescent, half-hearted moan of impatience as he fingers danced over the base of his neck, urging him closer. He complied, tilting his head, slipping his tongue between her parted lips, exploring the inner sanctuary of her mouth, distinctly aware of how her tongue met his with an urgent ferociousness.
She slipped off the chair, her weight rested on his thighs as he passed his hands over her back, tracing the rigid line of her spine, delving deeper into her silky hair and pulling her head back, breaking their kiss and exposing the smooth, milky column of her throat to his ravenous mouth.
It seemed as though he were insatiable for Temperance Brennan – seeking the taste and warmth of her like a child would a security blanket. She filled him with an imperative need, an urgency that was only quenched when he tasted her skin, kissed her lips and touched the luscious curves of her body.
Her vocal chords vibrated beneath his lips as she moaned her approval, her nipples straining against the white shirt she wore. He dipped his tongue into her clavicle, tasting the saccharine perspiration that had gathered there, grazing her sternum and pressing his lips to the swell of her breast before pulling away entirely. Her eyes parted, glazed and disorientated, confused and hungry.
"I'm fine now," he said, brushing soft circles around her temples with his thumbs and her nose wrinkled in confusion. Booth laughed, pulling her against his chest, cradling her there as though she were sacrosanct, invaluable. "You asked how I was. I'm fine, now," he explained, his nose buried in her neck, inhaling the addictive scent of her; pure Brennan mixed with arousal. "We're leaving today," he said, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.
"Today? What about your father?" Booth pulled back, painfully aware of her nipples, still straining, still inviting him with cruel deliberation. He was often powerless to resist.
"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," he said, "and we've been here two days already. I want to go home." His fingers brushed her jaw. "I want to spend Christmas with you." She smiled tightly, almost sad. "Hey…" he said, pressing on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What happened?" Brennan shrugged.
"I'm not so good at Christmas," she said, "and I don't want you to be disappointed." Booth laughed, cradling her against him, a low rumble vibrating within his ribs.
"As if…" he said. "You're incapable of disappointing me, Temperance."
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"Oh… sweetie!" Angela engulfed her best friend in a tight, enthusiastic hug before turning her attentions to Booth, and doing the same. "How are you guys?" Booth shook off his coat, stomping snow off his boots and smiling. He actually felt happy.
He'd made peace with his father, assured himself that he had no reason to feel guilty, and now, with the Christmas looming on the horizon, he wanted nothing more than to celebrate the season, wrapped up in Brennan's ironic logic. Plus, he felt strangely elated to once again be in the presence of the squints.
Zach descended the stairs from the quarantined lab, grinning at Brennan.
"You're back!" he said, rocking back and forth on his toes, so goofy that Booth wanted, so desperately, to make a mocking jibe. He stayed quiet only because it was Christmas and the kid deserved some reprieve, even if it was only once a year. "How is your father, Agent Booth?" he asked, and the thought he had, moments earlier, filled him with guilt. Zach Addy wasn't a bad kid.
"He's doing better, thanks," Booth replied.
"Hey! G-Man! We're going to Wong Foo's, you coming?" Hodgins asked as the group gathered in the lobby. "Sid's cooking up a festive special and I am not going to miss this." Booth glanced at their faces, each in turn, Brennan's first, then Angela, Zach and Jack and realised he had formed a friendship with the dysfunctional four that was stronger than any he had forged with his Bureau colleagues.
"Sounds good, Jack," he said, clapping the man's shoulder. "You guys go on, Bones and I will meet you there." Brennan stood at his side as her friends left, chatting amongst themselves, and he heard Angela murmur something about 'cute couple' and he almost grinned. "She's the most normal one, you know," he commented when they were out of earshot. Brennan chuckled.
"Yeah, I know. She's great."
Booth slipped his hand into hers. "They're nice, Bones," he said, squeezing her fingers. "Nice friends." Brennan smiled, leaning into him. The lab was silent, and only the security guards at the far end of the building seemed to occupy it. Booth turned to her, slipping his arm around her waist. Above their heads the audio system played Silent Night, a song, so famous that it was generally loathed because there was only a certain amount of times a single song could be played before it became irritating.
Pulling her towards him, he shifted, smiling down at her. "Dancing to a Christmas song is slightly eccentric," Brennan commented, taking his hand, shifting beneath the multi-coloured Christmas lights that were strung above their heads. He smiled, dipping his head in agreement.
"Yes," he admitted, "it is." She spun beneath his arm, rocking against him, the music setting a lulling motion for their rhythm. Booth brushed a strand of cinnamon hair from her cheek, watching her with eyes that twinkled with the lights, and she saw a reflection of her own happiness and contentment, there.
They turned and moved in slow circles around the lab. "This is probably the least romantic place to dance," Brennan said, lifting her eyes to the snow laden skylights above their heads, shifting so as not to bump her thigh against a steel gurney. Booth blinked slowly, bending his head, a few inches, and pressing a kiss to her lips. Gentle and loving. There was no hurry to their languid kiss, as he held her body against his.
"We make our own romance, Bones," he replied.
"Yes," she said, "we really do."
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Hope you like. Let me know.
