Still not mine. Unfortunately.
Ok, this is especially for all you peeps who are sticking with me and reading as I go along. A special mention must be made to grandma, however, as she seems to like this one so incredibly darned much. Saucy minx that she is.
Booth glanced over at the woman sitting next to him and let out a quiet chuckle.
Brennan's body was slumped, as though she found it too wearisome to sit upright. The backs of her fingers were pressed against her eyes. As he watched, she made a rather disastrous attempt to stifle a yawn.
She was, of course, not in the least bit tired. She had repeated this to him many times over the course of the evening, so it must be true. Even if, dare he even think it, all evidence pointed to the contrary.
He had made numerous efforts to convince her otherwise, to insist that he leave her alone to get some sleep. She was having none of it. Somewhere in her twisted Brennan logic seemed to be the message that tiredness equalled weakness. So, she was definitely not tired. And never would be. Obviously.
He had absolutely, completely, one hundred percent resolved to just get up and leave, whether she liked it or not, as he hoped this would force her to go to bed. But, Brennan being Brennan, had a plan of attack up her sleeve, as though innately aware of his own. She had plied him with food. Then there was some more food. A beer. Afterwards, she had suggested take-out. He was helpless. Utterly and totally helpless. She knew him so well it was scary.
"Well, Bones…"
"I'm not tired!"
He looked so askance that she broke out into spontaneous laughter.
"Talk about being on the warpath there. I didn't say anything about tiredness. I wasn't even THINKING tiredness. In fact, nobody in this ROOM mentioned tiredness. Except you."
She couldn't help a small smile from forming. Somehow, he had managed to score a little victory there.
"Sorry. What were you going to say?"
He shook his head in disbelief.
"I have no idea. You gave me such a fright. Very confrontational altogether."
She gave him a withering look along with a not-too-gentle shove.
"Shut up. I didn't scare you."
Unable to keep up the pretence, he broke out into a grin.
"You got me. But I'm gonna go ahead and take a wild guess that if your thoughts are jumping so quickly to tiredness…it might be saying something about the way you're feeling. I think we should call it a night."
She immediately sat bolt upright, as though this proved without a doubt that she was fully awake. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, determined not to show any amusement on his face. She looked him in the eye, as though her point was irrefutably made, but didn't argue with him.
Nodding slowly, understanding that she simply couldn't admit to the perceived weakness, Booth got up and stretched.
She immediately flopped sideways, laying her head on the newly vacated seat.
His mouth twitched uncontrollably.
"Wide awake, Bones?"
She raised her eyebrows at him, jaw working furiously as she made a better attempt than the last to stifle a yawn.
"As always, Booth."
"Never doubted you. Listen, I'm just going to make a quick stop to your bathroom and then I'll be out of your hair."
His last sight of Brennan was seeing her lift up a few locks of hair and stare intently at them in utter bewilderment.
Booth found the bathroom easily, it's not like it was his first time in the apartment, and quickly took care of what he had to do. As he stood washing his hands, a sudden impulse overcame him to search for whatever it was that made her smell so…amazing. Being in such close proximity to her all night had confounded his senses and had launched a full-scale attack on his beliefs on propriety.
He began, cautiously at first, but quickly gaining momentum, opening bottles and jars and taking quick sniffs of the fragrances inside. Vanilla, lily, rose, lavender, orchid… He soon became quite light-headed, but in a thoroughly pleasant, enjoyable way. After a few minutes, he was forced to conclude that perhaps that intoxicating Brennan scent was…simply Brennan. That mixture of sweetness and strength, floral and fruity, and something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Pleased with his discovery, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.
"Booth!"
Oops. He had taken an awful lot longer than he meant to. He could feel his face reddening as he cursed his lack of forward thinking. Of course she'd wonder why he had taken so long. How on earth was he going to explain it to her? I just wanted to see what you smell like? He shook his head. Even to him, that sounded creepy.
Her call came again.
"Booth!"
Feeling utterly stupid, he began a half-walk, half-jog into the living room.
"Listen, Bones, I'm really sorry. I was just, well the thing is, basically…"
His jaw dropped.
Brennan was lying, quite still. Her right side was elevated and her left was pressed against the seat of the couch. Her right hand lay tangled in her hair; her left was flung over her head, the fingers suspended over the couch's edge. Her left leg was pulled against the back of the couch, while her right was stretched across the furniture's length. She was obviously asleep.
She spoke his name again, this time her voice was low. Husky. Sultry.
"Booth."
Booth's eyes goggled. She's dreaming about me? And she's saying my name like that?!
Brennan's hand became even more fused with her hair. She let out a chuckle. A slow, drawn out, throaty chuckle. There was only ever one context a chuckle like that was used.
A grin threatened to crack his face. His feet began moving of their own accord as they completed some form of victory, triumph demonstration across the room. His arms were raised, the fists clenched with success. He couldn't remember raising them, nor did he think he would be able to lower them.
He suddenly hit the ground in shock as a long drawn out sigh, complete with flirtatious giggle, which quickly turned into a breathy rendition of his name, escaped her lips. Prickles of heat raced across his scalp at the sound. There was really no denying it now. His bruised knees were witness to the momentous event. In direct proportion to this, his ego had swelled tenfold. Ego being…well, you get the idea.
After a further few minutes of celebration, including his march around the apartment pretending he was playing the trumpet, Booth stood in front of her, hand scratching the back of his head, wondering what he should do with her.
While he was quite confident that his dream self was virile enough to keep her dream self toasty warm, her actual self was another matter entirely. Quickly dismissing the idea of life imitating…not art exactly, but perhaps dreams were a form of art, in an effort to keep her warm, he decided he should carry her into her room.
He slipped his hands, palms facing upwards, under her slender body and, when he was sure she was secure, he picked her up.
As he moved away from the couch, her hands grabbed the front of his shirt. His grin, if possible, grew wider.
I could get used to this. Very used to this indeed.
When he reached the bedroom door, there was an unforeseen response from Brennan and he nearly dropped her. She leaned her head forward and pressed her lips against his chest. Fairly, and understandably, wobbly-legged, he entered the room and meandered over to the bed.
He was within two feet of it, when Brennan suddenly threw her head back and moaned, loud and long. This time, she slipped. Not completely out of his hands, but until she was nearly level with his hips.
He would never know if it was the jostling movement that awoke her or the volume of her delight. Either way, her eyes opened, and she stared sleepily and questionably at him.
"Booth? What's that…?"
"Rocket." It was out before she'd even finished her question.
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"What?"
Annoyed at himself, Booth shook his head and completed the few steps over to the bed.
"Nothing, Bones. Nothing. You just go back to sleep."
He lowered her gently onto the bed, pulling the blankets aside as he did. Once settled, he covered them over her once more. The movement brought their heads into extremely close proximity. Her hands still clung to his shirt. The still air was pregnant with possibility.
Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the top of the head, just below her hairline. He felt her shiver at his lingering touch. Her hands relaxed and fell away from his shirt.
"Night, Bones. Sweet dreams."
She nestled into the bed, a mischievous smile playing across her features.
"Oh, I will. If they're anything like the last, I definitely will." She looked very satisfied with herself, safe in the knowledge that he knew nothing of what had occurred in her dreamland.
Aware that he probably shouldn't, but unable to resist, he turned back to her with a twinkle in his eye.
"I have no doubt. I'm more than capable of satisfying a woman. Who knew I was your dream guy after all? Night, Bones."
He closed the door firmly on her mortified and outraged gasp.