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 39: That Time Booth Called Brennan Bossy

Booth was nervous. He couldn't argue that part. That was why he was trying to distract himself by any means necessary, bouncing from room to room in the house as he hovered over the techs in between phone calls with the federal prosecutor's office. He'd been on edge the entire time they'd been working this case for several reasons―not only because he was still in the throws of what had been a nasty breakup with Tessa, but because of the reappearance of Brennan's slimy ex. And, he didn't like it. Not one bit. Even as he walked into the family room to update Brennan about the news on the Costellos' refrigerator, his brain was focused elsewhere. He'd spent the last two days trying to get the image of Brennan and her ex out of his had. However, the harder he tried, the more persistent thoughts of his partner and Michael Stires echoed in his brain.

I mean, what a friggin' scumbag, Booth thought as he walked back into the living room of Mary and Scott Costello's home, threading his way through FBI techs who were scurrying across the crime scene like worker ants. I don't get it, and more importantly, I don't like it. I can't prove it, but my gut says there's something off with that guy. He may not be as bad as the Costellos, but I don't like him. And, furthermore, I don't get what Bones sees in that guy. I mean, yeah, he's smart―and I guess that some people would say that he's not a bad looking guy, but even still. He gives me the heebie jeebies.

As he was walking around the room and thinking, Brennan was surveying the evidence that the FBI techs had started to collect for the prosecution to use in their case of Maggie Schlling's murder. Furrowing her brow, Brennan frowned and then said, "They're sadomasochistic fetishists."

Looking up at her, Booth stopped pacing. He walked over to the table where one of the boxes sat and hastily grabbed one of the boxes up into his arms.

"Yeah," Booth said vaguely as he brought the box closer to Brennan and set it down in front of her. "Turned the basement into a fun room."

Leaning forward, Brennan arched her eyebrows as she looked into the box as she continued, "Seeking sexual gratification through the manipulation of power." Reaching into the box, she pulled out a black leather collar that was set with metal spikes. She gave it an odd look before she vaguely gestured in Booth's direction as she told him, "Probably the oldest of fetishes, master-slave." She held Booth's intense gave for a moment, noted how he swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple bobbed enough so that she noticed it, and then shrugged slightly as she dropped the collar back into the box as she added, "It's all about dominance."

Oh, my God, Booth thought. I get it now. She's into Stires because he was in a position of authority over her, and she gets off on…what? Being dominated? God…that's just so―man, I never would've guess she'd be into that kink, but damn. That does explain Stires. But, oh, God. I can't let her know that I know that or thing are gonna get even more awkward between us than they already are. So…deflect. I gotta deflect. Hmmm….

Taking a breath, Booth hoped he wasn't blushing as he lamely said, "Well, this only comes up when the bloom comes off the rose, if you know what I mean."

Giving Booth a sour look as her face crinkled into a twisted look of displeasure, Brennan shook her head and said, "I don't know what you mean."

Of course you don't, Booth thought. Damn it.

Taking a breath, he tried to explain―in as vague a way as possible so that he could make her understand his point (which he was already sorry he'd made) and not personalize so that she knew what he'd realized about why she was hooking up with Stires―as he said, "You know, when the regular stuff….when it gets old, you need to spice it up…it's over." He paused for only a fraction of a second before he added, almost as an afterthought, "When sex is good, you don't need any help."

That particular statement Brennan did understand. Her eyes dilated as her face broke into an unexpected easy grin as she said, "Oh, that's for sure."

Goddamn it, she's thinking about Stires, a voice bellowed in Booth's head. I think I'm gonna hurl.

"I'm sorry?" he managed to choke out as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit's trousers so that she wouldn't see him clench his fists in aggravation.

Shaking her head slightly, as she still had that creepy grin on her face that Booth knew meant she was thinking of Stires, Brennan said, "I was agreeing."

"Yeah?" he blinked at her. When Brennan didn't say anything, but merely kept grinning at him, he said sharply, "Well, don't. Okay?" Sighing, he added, even though he didn't realize he'd said part of his inner monologue out loud, "It kinda freaks me out."

Brennan immediately responded, "I was just saying that I myself feel no inclination toward either pain or dominance when it comes to sex."

Wait, Booth blinked. Is she really telling me this? She doesn't like to be dominated and so she gets her jollies by letting Stires dominate her? Oh, God, I'm seriously gonna puke. But, can she really mean that? I mean, this is obsessive-compulsive control freak grade A gold standard Bones that we're talking about here.

His nausea momentarily forgotten, Booth quickly asked her, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she volleyed back. "I'm sure."

He stared at her for a few seconds before he couldn't help himself anymore and said, "Because you can be very bossy."

She made a face and then reached for one of the ridding crops in the box. She quickly swatted him hard on the shoulder, causing Booth to spin around quickly.

"Hey!" he grunted. "Cut it out."

"Don't call me bossy," Brennan immediately retorted.

"I'm just stating a fact there, Bones," Booth said as he crossed his arms. "You of all people can't argue with the facts."

"It's not a fact that I'm bossy in bed," Brennan said as she gestured at him with the riding crop, stabbing it in the air as she spoke. "You have no baseline for making any such statement."

"Call it a factual extrapolation," Booth said as he nodded at her.

"That's ridiculous," Brennan said. "You don't know anything about me and what I'm like in bed when I'm having sex―"

Taking a step towards her, Booth's nostrils flared as the filter that normally kept his inner monologue in check suddenly gotten flipped to the off-button as the image of Stires spanking Brennan during some type of kinky foreplay made him see red. "If you recall," Booth graveled in a low tone so that no one else but Brennan would hear him. "That wasn't for lack of trying on my part. That was all on you, Bones."

She blinked at him for a minute, staring at him wide-eyed as he finally did what they'd silently agreed never to bring up again―a night in the rain colored by tequila shots, confessions, and some of the best kisses that either one had ever had in their entire lives. After another minute, she raised the crop at him again when she decided that he was just teasing her. Moving to swat him, she said, "Stop teasing me. That's not funny."

Booth, for his part, refused to break eye contact with her as he said, "I'm not joking, Bones." He then reached out and grabbed her hand that held the crop as he said, "And, while we're being completely honest here, I think I've got more than enough factual evidence to say that you're plenty bossy in bed."

"Meaning?" she coughed as her own breathing started to get shallow as she realized that somehow, in some way, things had suddenly shifted between the pair.

"Meaning," Booth said, his dark eyes now glittering like two pieces of obsidian as he stared back at her. "I think you like telling other people what to do to you in bed. So, I think that the reason why you can handle that crop there well enough―and don't you dare smack me with that again since I told you I'm not into that schtick―is because that you were being honest when you said that you don't like spanking Mikey-boy in bed, so you must like getting spanked yourself since he can't do what needs to be done because he's a two-faced girly jagoff. But, just for the record, if you ever get tired of trying to get satisfied by a douche-bag like that and want to have a go with someone who doesn't need a bunch of props to get you to where you need to go, you've got my number, huh?"

He dropped her arm in that minute, and then quickly spun around to put some distance between them as quickly as possible. Walking outside, he struggled to find time to let his super ego attempt to catch up with what his id had just done when it rested control of his mouth from his ego. A couple of minutes later, he was standing in the Costellos' drive way, watching two officers take the handcuffed couple into custody as they situated them in the back of a marked car when he felt his phone ring in his pocket.

Grabbing it from his pocket, he didn't even bother to look at the caller ID as he answered gruffly, "Booth."

A very familiar voice suddenly caressed his ear. Instinctively, his eyes darted to the window of the Costello's living room, and he saw Brennan standing in front of it, holding her own phone to her ear as she looked back out at him.

"Your place or mine?" he heard her soft voice in the phone, no louder than a sensual whisper.

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly having gone very dry as he tried to take in the surreal nature of the last twenty minutes. A dangerous silence hung between them for a moment that was heavily pregnant with an expectant pause. One part of him was uncertain what to say. Fortunately for Booth, at that moment, his id once again seized control of his mouth―and it knew exactly what it wanted to say―as he replied, "Mine. It's closer."

"When?"

"Twenty minutes?"

"Done."

-TBC-