What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

Ch 38: That Time Booth Borrowed Brennan's Phone

She wasn't willing to admit it. She wasn't going to tell him that for some reason she couldn't quite understand, ever since they'd arrived in L.A., Booth's normal level of sexual attractiveness had increased by a significant magnitude. She didn't know why or how it had actually occurred.

He was dressing the same way he always did, albeit perhaps in a slightly more casual way. His wardrobe during their case had thus far varied between the t-shirts, jeans, and leather jacket ensemble he tended to favor more often than the casual formal Oxford long-sleeve dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, unbuttoned at the neck, and worn loose over his jeans that he sometimes donned. Brennan did have to admit that she'd observed the fact that he must've gotten a haircut before they'd left D.C. since his hair elicited an unusual appeal to have one run their finger's through it. But, it wasn't like she hadn't been around him hundreds of times before in the times when he'd gotten haircuts before. She knew he usually gotten them like clockwork on the first Wednesday of each month―if not sooner, since Booth was more than slightly vein when it came to his hair. So, a new haircut didn't necessarily explain why she suddenly itched to touch his hair. Then, there was the matter of his scent. As far as she could tell, nothing out of the ordinary had changed there either. She'd made several covert attempts to inhale his scent when they were in close proximity. As far as she could determine, he hadn't changed his routine by varying any products that he used that had a distinctive scent. He still smelled just as he always did―a combination of the lemon-scented shampoo he used, the menthol-scented shaving cream he preferred, and the very faint sandalwood aftershave he favored. In a word, Booth smelled as he always did to Brennan―good. But, again, she couldn't find anything that had changed out about him. Thus, she still couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to be reacting to his charming smile, easy going nature, and impressive physicality here in D.C. in a way in which she'd failed to observe before they'd left.

And, then, logically, she began to wonder if there was no evidence that Booth had been the one to change, then maybe it was her. Had something happened where she had suddenly become more responsive to his physical cues, the scent of his pheromones, and the many other aspects of his person in between? Because, if she had, that would explain, she knew, one of the things she felt most disconcerted about. Every time another female smiled at or flirted with Booth she felt an overwhelming desire to scratch the offending woman's eyes out, inflict great bodily harm on said woman, and then find out if the perfect body disposal plan she'd concocted in her head one summer just for fun was actually a valid way to make someone disappear forever.

As they stood in the lab that Brennan had appropriated for her work at the L.A. corner's office, with both Hodgins and Zack on video screens staring back at them, while she and Booth ostensibly worked the case, something suddenly clicked in her head.

It was her. She was the one that had changed. Somehow, someway...something had happened to her.

And, she was jealous.

She, Dr. Temperance Brennan, was jealous…of any other female that her partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, was showering with attention instead of her.

She was jealous―completely and utterly irrationally and insanely jealous, to the point that she was feeling extremely aggressive and hostile. And, as soon as she realized this very salient point, Brennan knew that her ire was only going to increase the more that Booth flirted with other women instead of her.

How in the hell did this happen? a small, rational voice echoed in Brennan's head as she listened to Zack and Hodgins talk about what they'd found after examining the remains that had been shipped back to the Jeffersonian from LAX. When…how…and…damn it.

After Zack offered a summary of the bone trauma that victim had suffered, Brennan absentmindedly voiced a random comment about the trauma perhaps being linked to the victim having sustained the injuries in an auto accident. She'd turned away from the monitors primarily so that neither Zack nor Hodgins would be able to see that she wasn't her normal calm and collected self. That was the reason why Brennan was able to see Booth make a grab for her cell phone as soon as he'd fished out the business card the Hollywood madam had given him at their interview earlier in the day. Booth shot her an amused look when he tossed the phone in the air, caught it, and then proceeded to use it to make a call even as Brennan scowled at him and Zack continued chattering in the background, demanding her attention. However, for once, forensic anthropology lost out in Dr. Temperance Brennan's brain to more base demands. Booth moved out of her grasp when she tried to reach for the phone, turning so that his back was facing the monitors on which Zack and Hodgins stood watching them. Brennan felt a flush of annoyance transition into a quick stab of anger as she stood two or three feet away from Booth while he made his call.

"Hey, Miss. Bardu. Hi. Special Agent Booth," he grinned smoothly into the phone.

Brennan's eyes widened as she realized who he was talking to…and why...since there was only one reason he could be calling Bardu...and he was actually using her cell phone to do it.

"I've reconsidered your offer," Booth said in a jovial voice.

Oh, hell, no, a sharper voice―one that was quite glorious in its irrationality―snapped. He's not doing what I think he's doing.

"I was wondering if I could have one of your ladies visit me today?" Booth asked in a lightly playful voice.

He is, the voice snapped when the complete wave of disbelief that had just crashed over Brennan had apparently rendered her own vocal cords inoperative. Son of a bitch. He is. He's using my phone…to get a prostitute…in front of me.

"You're ordering a prostitute from my cell phone?" Brennan finally managed to utter in complete incredulity.

"I was wondering if Rachel ever took part in any of those two-on-one specials?" Booth asked, the picture of innocence as Brennan's scowl went from wide-eyed shocked to narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Hey, the old two on one special," Hodgins chuckled in the background as he and Zack observed the exchange. "Classic."

"What's a classic?" Brennan didn't even hear Zack ask, confusion clear in his voice.

"That's great," Booth nodded, even though Bardu couldn't see his response. "Just send me whoever she worked with the most."

"You're ordering a hooker to my hotel?" Brennan snapped at him as Booth only flashed her a playful smile before he took another step away from her.

"Did I hear you say hooker?" Zack continued to punctuate the background with questions that merely expressed how confused he really was in some ways for an individual who was as brilliant as he was in others.

"How come I never get to go on these out of town trips?" Hodgins chimed in with a sly grin of his own, solidifying his and Zack's status as a type of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern presence in this scene.

Brennan was at a loss for what to do when suddenly, Booth uttered a single sentence that clarified what she needed to do as soon as he'd said it.

Looking up at her as he ended the call, Booth said simply, "'Cause you have much looser daily allowances then I do."

Brennan stared at him for about two-tenths of a second, her eyes hard, her jaw hardened, and her nostrils flaring, before she moved. Forgetting that the remote to disconnect the monitors was in her pocket, Brennan stomped to the other side of the monitors from which Zack and Hodgins were their audience. Grabbing at the various AV and power cords, Brennan began to yank every connection she could free. When she was satisfied that the monitors and web uplink had been disconnected, she spun on her heels and turned back to face Booth.

"I know the squints are annoying sometimes, Bones," he said with amusement clear in his eyes, "But, you could've just ended the call by hitting the disconnect button, ya know?"

For a man who prided himself on reading people and situations using his gut in a very productive way, even Booth had to admit that Brennan's next action surprised him. He was surprised because of how quickly his perspective on his partner changed. One minute he was standing in front of her, eyes twinkling at her apparent aggravation over the squints, holding her phone out to her since he'd finished with it. The next minute he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling from the flat of his back, as he struggled to regain the ability to breathe from the wind that had been knocked out of him when Brennan had swept his legs out from under him. That view of the ceiling was quickly replaced by one of the most beautiful and arousing sights that Booth could honestly say had ever greeted his eyes―Brennan was on top of him, using her legs to straddle him, while she looked down at him with her normally pristine blue eyes clouded to one of the loveliest hazy blues he'd ever seen. Her skin was flushed a delicate pink and her chest was heaving in just the right way that, from his particular vantage point, he had a very excellent view of her full breasts, despite the fact that the two layered tank tops and rather drab brown blazer she wore did their best to obscure them.

Brennan, for her part, didn't give Booth much of a chance to say anything as she leaned down, grabbed a fist full of his grey t-shirt in each hand and used her leverage to pull him up to her. She smashed her mouth against his, her lips on his mouth before he even could suck in a deep breath. By the time her tongue was insistently demanding entrance to his mouth, Booth was already starting to feel lightheaded―both from a lack of oxygen and what was happened. Brennan pressed her chest against hers as she sucked on the tip of his tongue, trying to draw it from his mouth into her own. She made a small growl of protest when, after several stunned seconds, she still didn't feel any response from Booth. The growl seemed to flip a rather primal switch in Booth's brain. Suddenly, oxygen was no longer quite as important as it once had been. Unfettered, Booth's tongue began its own counter offensive against Brennan's, and the pair lay on the floor for several moments trying to see who was going to win this particular battle.

Finally, about to pass out from both oxygen deprivation and a painful arousal, Booth took his last bit of energy, thrust his hips forward, and knocked Brennan off balance enough so that he could roll them over. Their heads separated during the process, and by the time Booth righted himself, he looked down at Brennan with a rather stupid, toothy grin on his face.

"Bones?" he managed to choke in between gasps for air.

"Yes…Booth?" she panted as she sucked down her own much needed breaths of air.

"Not that I'm complaining…but what…the…hell…what…that?" he rasped.

Using her forearms to prop her up as she looked up at him, she said, "You're not spending the night getting laid by a prostitute in L.A. at my hotel on my expense account."

"Oh?" Booth chuckled, comprehension suddenly dawning.

"Yes," Brennan nodded furiously. "If you want to get laid tonight, at my hotel, then it will be in my room, by me, no prostitutes or other women involved. Understand?"

Booth looked at her with an appreciative eye, licking his lips in complete and utter anticipation, as he said, "What's your room number again?"

"2705," Brennan responded instantly. "I'll leave a key for you at the desk."

Booth grinned as he leaned down and let his lips hover just above her ear as he whispered, "As great as that sounds, do we really need to wait until tonight?"

Brennan's throaty chuckle was all the answer he needed, but just so there was no miscommunication between them, she reached down and pulled him back on top of her so that he knew her answer to his question was no, they didn't need to wait a second longer.

And, so, they didn't.

-TBC-