He was tired but dared not close his eyes for fear this time with her would vanish. She was sleeping against him and he wanted to sit for as long as he could stay awake and just relish the weight and imprint of her against him. Stirring, her hand moved up his chest, stopping near her face. He studied it now, allowing himself the luxury of staring. He was fascinated by her hands, he had watched them for hours dance over bones in the lab, gently lifting a specimen in her slender fingers, always laying it carefully back into it's place. Her head would be down, her brow creased in concentration and her body still, but her hands were always animated when she worked. He admired her focus, the intensity in her concentration, the way in which every action and movement was only for this task. When she was working nothing in the world existed beyond the bones in front of her. He had been watching her in that very mode not long after they met when Angela had come up next to him and said, "if she has that much intensity over a pile of bones imagine what it would do to your world to have that focus turned on you." At just that moment Bones had lifted her head and those piercing blue eyes had captured his stare. It was the first time he had to leave the Jeffersonian and drive around because he had an erection and the first time he realized the sparks between them were becoming something more. Ever since that day when he watched her hands he wondered what it would be like to have them moving over his body, to feel her touch against his skin and to be at the mercy of her undivided attention.
He lightly traced a line down her slender fingers fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips, to kiss the palm and run his tongue along the lines there, to kiss her fingertips and gently take one into his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ease his state of arousal back into submission. He then wondered when she had known she was attracted to him and what had brought her to this recent decision that it would be a good thing for them to try dating. He knew it wasn't just a matter of the dream; she was far more complicated than that. He would have to remember to ask her about all this, perhaps on their date. He is going on a date with Bones; he kissed her and was now sitting with her asleep in his arms. He could not stop grinning, not for the life of him.
He knew he should wake her but once she was awake there would be no reason for him to stay and she would inevitably send him home. He gently kissed the top of her head, he wasn't ready to leave her yet and probably wouldn't be any time soon so he leaned back his head and closed his eyes, letting the sleep take him.
She blinked and froze. It took her a moment to get her bearings, she was so tired. The moment a case was over it seemed like all the sleep she had missed while working it came back to claim her at once. She was curled against Booth but she had no idea how long she had been there, fifteen minutes, three hours and fifteen minutes? Her legs ached with the need to stretch but she didn't want to wake him. She breathed in the scent of him, her mind trying to place and categorize but unable to move beyond the thought that it just smelled like him. She smoothed her hand lightly over his chest pausing to feel his heart beat, amazed at how just the scent of him could nudge her desire awake. She knew she needed to get up so she slowly eased herself out of his embrace, pausing to look at him again; she bent down and gently kissed his cheek. She attributed the poor impulse control to fatigue. She had to stand for a moment to let the circulation return to her legs; as she began to move the needle sharp sensation spread. She turned off the light which at this late hour just felt offensive to her and went to retrieve a pillow and blanket for Booth. When she returned she placed the pillow at the end of the sofa and removed the cushions off the back so he would have plenty of room. She slid her hand around his neck and eased him into a lying position, gently removing his shoes and covering him, at least his neck wouldn't be sore. She paused, looking down at him in the dim light, even in sleep the solid strength of him was apparent and her hand flexed at her side with an urge to touch him. The contained chemistry between them was powerful, compelling and lately she had been thinking far too often about how it would feel to release it.
In her bedroom she drew a white tank top from a stack in the drawer. She normally wasn't self indulgent but the shirts were incredibly soft Egyptian cotton, cool, comfortable with no extra material to tangle around her when she slept. They were appallingly expensive but she rationalized the purchase by telling herself that no price could be put on peaceful sleep, especially for her, who knew so little. She cleaned up and slid between her sheets, reveling in how wonderful it felt to be in bed when her whole body was aching with exhaustion. She closed her eyes, mentally calming her thoughts, trying to clear her mind but his image kept slipping to the surface. She fell asleep with a small smile curled on her lips.
He opened his eyes, she was gone. He should have stayed awake, he had known in a part of his conscience that she had lain him down but the movement had been one of comfort so his mind did not send a warning to wake him fully. He wondered what he should do now, it was early, just before six and he didn't want to wake her but it didn't feel right just sneaking off either. Of course there was also the possibility of staying but would it be awkward in the morning or one of those special times between them? He was torn; part of him would always opt to stay just to have more time with her and well after thinking about it that was the only part that mattered. At the moment he was uncomfortable, his shirt and pant legs had twisted around him in his sleep and he needed to use the bathroom. Wanting to clean up, he slipped out to his car and grabbed his bag, grateful now that he had come directly here last night and not dropped it off at home. He moved down the hallway, about to turn into the bathroom when he looked up and stopped in his tracks. Her door was open and there she was, lying at a slight angle in a white tank top and satiny pale blue underwear, one leg exposed where she had kicked off the covers in the night. He couldn't keep walking, could not force his feet to move. Her hair spread on her pillow, an errant strand curled around her throat, the end almost pointing to the swell of her breasts, the feint outline of her nipples against the thin material. The hint of her navel, the curve of her hip, the dip of her stomach, the edge of her underwear, the creamy thigh curving to her center…he was hard. He had to walk away, if she opened her eyes at this moment he didn't know what he would do except tell her he could not have stopped looking, he was after all a man and she was a woman, a very sexy, desirable, hot woman. She was so much more than he had imagined, but that was something internal, she had an internal side that was smoldering and had caught him completely off guard. He turned into the bathroom, the image of her burned behind his eyes, his penis at full attention now. He stepped into the shower, letting the water beat on the tension in his shoulders for a moment before turning the knob to cold to drive the desire from his body.
He moved quickly and quietly through his routine, pausing to look at the products she used, lifting one now and then to take in its scent. He pulled on an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, down to only a few clean choices after his trip. He stepped back into the hall and walked quickly to the kitchen, not allowing himself even a glance at her. He could not walk around all day with an erection, not only would it become painful, but eventually he would just sound stupid from the lack of blood flow to his brain. He chuckled softly, half amused and half mortified by the vision of him with a persistent erection trying to have a serious coherent conversation with Bones. He took his bag back out to the car, not wanting to look like he was making assumptions and went back into the living room. It was still so early and now that he was clean and comfortable again he was getting drowsy. He stretched back out on the sofa and laced his fingers behind his head, closing his eyes he wanted to think of anything but Bones lying in that bed. He turned his thoughts to the day ahead, he would make breakfast and then, if she was willing he would plan their day. He was hoping he could convince her to just spend time with him, in some aspects he knew her so well and in others she was a complete mystery to him. He also knew they needed to talk through some things before this went any further, just to make sure they were on the same page. He was still making plans when he fell back to sleep.
Temperance opened her eyes and stretched languidly in her bed, grateful for once it was Saturday. She heard sounds, remembering that Booth was in the other room just as the most wonderful scent alerted her attention to the fact he must be cooking. She was just coming out of the bathroom when her stomach growled and she decided it was time to go investigate, she mindlessly pulled on a pair of sweat pants and headed down the hall. When she reached the kitchen Booth had his back to her, he was approaching the fridge when he stopped, drawing an invisible gun he pretended to shoot it before cautiously reaching for the handle. He turned suddenly, sensing her presence and froze. She was grinning ear to ear, laughter beginning to erupt from her lips.
"Did you kill it Booth?" She loved when he was in a playful mood, uninhibited and relaxed, he had a natural ability to just enjoy life. He was blushing at having been caught by her but recovered quickly.
"Since it has already demonstrated the ability to be violent I'm just being cautious." He was holding a container of orange juice and had that boyish smile on his face, her stomach lurched. Then she noticed the clothes, he had showered and his hair was disheveled, there was a dishtowel over his shoulder, he was in a fitted white t-shirt and faded jeans, barefoot. He looked so, so sexy, her thighs were turning warm just looking at him. She moved her gaze back up his body and he was staring at her, eyebrow raised in question. She blushed deeply.
"When did you go home and change?" She had looked away from him and saw the counter set for two, the food on the stove. "And when did you do all this?"
He set down the orange juice and quickly turned to the stove, he opened the oven, pulling out two pans and placing them on the top. He gestured for her to sit down as he came to fill the coffee cups.
"I had clothes in the car and the rest was how I amused myself while you slept." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, "good morning." She was stunned by the simple act, which in the domestic setting felt somehow intimate. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. He took the plates to the stove and served breakfast; sitting next to her he watched as she took her fork and began to examine what was on her plate. "It's not a specimen Bones, just try it."
She smiled at him and cut a bite, placing it in her mouth and seconds later moaning softly.
"Booth this is amazing, I can't believe you made this." He wasn't looking at her, couldn't look at her. He knew she loved good food and in fact had heard her moan when eating noodles at Wong Fu's but in the silence of the kitchen it was as though she had stroked him with that one sound. He had already been fighting not to look at her in the tank top, not to notice her smooth skin or the rise of her breasts above the white shirt. He began to eat, distracting himself and avoiding her intense gaze.
"Don't sound so surprised, I love to cook." He voice was thick, he kept eating.
"Are you okay?" She couldn't place what was wrong with him.
"I'm fine, try the muffin, it's cinnamon orange." He flashed her a smile and went back to his plate. Watching out of the corner of his eye as her fingers tore off a piece of her muffin and put it in her mouth. She moaned again, shaking her head.
"You bake too, why didn't I know this about you? These are so good." She tore off another bite and popped it past her lips. He had to snap out of it, he started talking.
"I don't do the baking part that often but I know how. In college I worked part time at a restaurant, I would go in at five in the morning before classes and we would get food ready for the day. We made bread and muffins, huge pots of soup, pounds of prime rib marinating in the slow cooker, trays of spinach pie and baklava. There were all these scents in the air and the sound of metal and glass as we mixed and stirred, it was so peaceful and the bonus was that I learned to cook. Ever since then I have enjoyed getting up early and cooking, it relaxes me." When he looked over at her she was watching him intently, he didn't often give her glimpses into his past.
"It sounds like that was a good time in your life. Personally I don't cook very well. I understand the dynamics of it and it has a certain scientific element but somewhere between the recipe and the final product something usually goes wrong."
He started to chuckle at the image of Dr. Temperance Brennan scowling over a recipe book.
"I doubt that there is a task that, if you put your brilliant mind to it, you could not master. Being really good at something comes from your passion for it, many people can have the same level of skill at something but in the end it's the one with the true passion for it that stands out."
"Well that must explain it then because my only real passion for food comes from it's consumption and not it's preparation. If this is just a sample of your ability you can cook for me anytime." Even as she spoke the words she was aware of their implication and her cheeks colored slightly. She attacked her plate with renewed enthusiasm, looking anywhere but directly at him, knowing, without a glance, that he was smiling at her.
They were finishing up when he turned his attention back to her.
"Why don't you take your coffee in the other room and I'll clean up and join you."
"No, you don't have to do that, let me clean up, it's the least I can do after you did all this. By the way…" She rose from her seat and came to stand in front of him; placing her hand on his arm she turned him toward her. She slid her arms around his neck and place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Thank you, for all of this." She was slipping away from him, turning, when he grabbed her wrist and spun her back into him. He lips closing over hers before she could catch her breath. In an instant she was on fire, the ache between her legs suddenly blooming with heat. He touched his tongue to her lips and she opened her mouth, tilting her head and leaning into him, following the urge to be closer. Her hands were moving, one at his neck and the other caressing down the muscles of his back. She felt his hand move under her shirt and press against the small of her back, the other was cradling her head. He broke for air and they froze, mutually shocked by the power of their arousal, they stood captured by the desire, both deciding…