Brennan sighed and as she did so, she felt the weight of Booth's head heavy on her chest. As it turned out, Booth was a remarkably heavy sleeper. Though he didn't snore, his breath was hot on her skin and the stubble on his chin tickled as he unconsciously moved his head around to find a more comfortable position.
She rolled her eyes as, yet again, sleeping Booth decided that the most comfortable position would be his face buried in her cleavage. Mumbling under her breath about Booth's unnaturally big head, Brennan used both arms to pick his head up off her breasts and into a less embarrassing position. Sick of hauling his heavy head up, Brennan kept her arms cradled around his head, keeping it from moving.
It occurred to Brennan that it should perhaps feel a little bit odder to be lying with her partner like this. They were both stripped down to their underwear, Booth on top, his torso firmly pressed against hers. His muscled arms held her closely around the waist and now she was the one with her fingers in Booth's thick hair, holding his head to her chest.
What are we doing? Brennan wondered for the thousandth time. We're partners, we work together.
But for once in her life, Brennan told that little voice inside to give it a rest. If she really needed an excuse, she could always remind herself of the benefits of sharing body heat in situations dealing with hypothermia. She nodded to herself and curled her legs, which were beginning to feel cold again, into Booth's.
Booth mumbled incoherently in his sleep and Brennan felt a tiny smile tug at the corner of her lips. Despite his annoy habit of burying his face into her cleavage, Brennan had to admit Booth was adorable when he was asleep. Who knew that the big bad FBI agent was so cuddly? Brennan left herself a mental memo to tease him about it later.
Without really thinking about it, Brennan began to stroke Booth's short, thick hair. Inside, confusion twisted her stomach and made a lump in her throat. No matter what she told herself, they were no longer holding one another to conserve body heat. Booth was acting out his revenge on her, but deep down she knew if she really wanted him off, she could easily wiggle away or wake him up and force him to move.
Even so, she had no desire to move away. Booth's body felt right against hers and for once it felt good to do what she wanted. She was sick of holding back. What's more, she was sick of Booth holding back. It was like they took turns balking from one another. One day she's running away from any sort of emotional involvement and the next, he's talking about lines they can never cross.
A shiver passed through Brennan as Booth shifted slightly, causing his lips to brush across her collar bone. Everything suddenly felt like too much for her, and she turned her face to the window, staring at the white wall of snow. Alone together in the buried SUV, it felt like there was no outside world, and all the stupid reasons she had ever run from Booth, and all the ridiculous reasons he had ever held back from her, seemed meaningless and wrong.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, she felt Booth's breathing pattern change and realized he was beginning to wake up. She gingerly removed her arms from his head, allowing him to shift his weight off of her, curling beside her instead; his head now even with her own. Still barely waking, he pulled Brennan closer, tucking her into his side.
Slowly, his eyes opened.
"Hey," he muttered groggily, tilting his chin to look down at the woman in his arms.
Brennan looked back at him with serious eyes.
"Hey," she replied softly.
As Booth returned to the world of the waking, he sensed a degree of turmoil within his partner. She was holding him as tightly as he was holding her but her eyes were stormy and the corners of her mouth were pointed downward. Booth knew Brennan well enough to be able to tell she was thinking about something important.
"You warm now?" Booth asked her.
Brennan closed her eyes and nodded, listening to the rumbling of Booth's voice in his chest momentarily cover up the sound of his heartbeat. She felt him shift slightly, seeming uncomfortable with her silent response.
"Do you…" he began tentatively, "want to move?"
Brennan shook her head and she felt Booth fall still again. She allowed her hand to rest on Booth's chest and lightly traced the bruise left on it from the seatbelt. Booth's muscles tensed under her hand and she heard a tiny hitch in his breathing.
"We were lucky," she remarked quietly, not stopping her gentle hand motions.
"Yea," Booth said, his voice sounding lower than normal.
She let her hands fall still and placed her chin on top of them, peering up at Booth. His face was solemn and reflective as he looked back at her. Brennan closed her eyes. She could still feel Booth's eyes on her. It seemed as though he was always watching her.
His hand lightly cupped her cheek and she smiled reflexively. Despite the cold, a warm feeling enveloped her. This was the man that had saved her life multiple times. The one she had lied to the FBI for, the one she had shot a man for. He held her when she was scared, and what's more, she allowed him to see her fear.
The warm feeling was suddenly replaced with frustration. If all of that was so, then why was their relationship so difficult? Why did they tip-toe around one another as if on ice? Brennan knew the reasons deep down, but now, with Booth's warm body under her and his hand on her cheek, she could care less. She was sick of them dancing around their mutual attraction and affection.
For once in her life, Brennan wasn't thinking. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at Booth. He was watching her with the same tender eyes he had always watched her with, and when he saw that her eyes were open, he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. Without rationalizing, without any sort of thought process, Brennan leaned up and brushed her lips against Booth's.
There was a moment's pause during which their lips hovered mere centimeters apart and their heartbeats were almost audible in the silent SUV as both battled with restraint. But the moment was short-lived.
Before either could protest, Booth captured Brennan's lips again, tangling one hand in her hair and splaying the fingers of his other hand against her bare back. In his mind he dimly registered that he was finally kissing Brennan the way he had always wanted to, but then her body shifted against his in a delightful way and he found that his mind was too consumed by her to form a solid thought.
Booth broke the kiss momentarily to flip-flop their positions so Brennan no longer had to hold herself up. Brennan let out a slight gasp as she suddenly found herself sandwiched between the car seat and Booth's body and Booth took advantage of her momentary distraction by trailing kisses up her neck to her jaw line.
Brennan moaned softly and guided his lips back to hers. Booth found that his hands had a mind of their own, and Brennan seemed to be having a similar dilemma. Her hands were soft as they explored the expanse of Booth's muscled back and Booth found that the rest of her skin was equally soft as he trailed down her sides.
As Booth came up for air, he glanced down at Brennan, and it was then, that his brain regained basic functioning. He saw her below him, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire. But at the same time, he saw a thousand images of her in his mind; Brennan tied up in a warehouse, Brennan confused and battered in New Orleans, Brennan crying into his shoulder at McVicker's farm, Brennan staring at him in shock after she killed a man, Brennan gasping for air as he unearthed her from the ground, Brennan laughing, Brennan crying…
A lightening bolt of panic shot through him. This was Bones. The woman whose fingertips were slightly under the waistband of his boxers and whose bra straps Booth had begun to slip off her shoulders was Bones. This was the woman he'd die without and he was now on the brink of risking everything they had together.
Booth took a shaky, ragged breath.
"Bones…" he began in a low, croaky voice he barely recognized. "We can't-"
Booth watched as Brennan's face bunched up in a mixture of frustration, anger, and exasperation. When her hands pushed him off of her, they were surprising gentle considering the degree of emotion on her face. She slipped out of his arms and back into her own seat, where she sat facing him with her legs tucked under her and her arms crossed.
Booth's body immediately mourned the loss of Brennan's and Booth maneuvered himself into an upright position, placing his face in his hands and groaning softly. Now that the more rational side of his brain had won over, it backed down, leaving the rest of his brain reeling in disgust for Booth's actions. He was tempted to forget everything and pull Brennan back over, but when he looked over to her icy eyes, he realized that was no longer an option.
"Look Bones," he said urgently, his voice still husky with desire. "I just…"
Booth paused, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say, but Brennan jumped in before he could find them.
"I know Booth!" she exploded, voice teetering between sheer frustration and defeat. "I know the little reasons and excuses we always tell ourselves and I'm sick of it. I want out of this damn SUV now."
Her eyes flashed. She was frustrated sexually and emotionally and her only outlet was to lash out in anger. Two could play at that game.
"Well you can't get out," Booth retaliated, his voice rising in volume. "Do you think I want to be in here either?"
Brennan stiffened and pointed her finger at him.
"You don't get to be angry Booth. This is all your fault," she remarked accusingly.
Booth gave her an astonished look.
"What's my fault?" he asked angrily. "You were the one that kissed me."
Rage flashed Brennan's expression and she leaned forward, getting in his face. Her eyes stared coldly into Booth's.
"Tell me you didn't want it then," she said challengingly.
Booth paused for a second, considering her.
"I did want it," he replied quietly.
Brennan leaned back into her seat. There was less anger on her face, but Booth could tell she was still riled up. She crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a poignant glare.
"Then why'd you stop?" she questioned accusingly. "You always make this harder than it has to be."
Her hands motioned between them to indicate that she was talking about their relationship. Booth drew himself up defensively.
"I make this difficult?" he asked incredulously. "You're the one always pushing people away."
His words seemed to have struck a nerve with Brennan, and her fists clenched by her side.
"Don't you dare put all of this on me Seeley Booth," she said lowly, dangerously. "I'm not the one who drew the line. That was all you."
Booth realized that she had a point, but refused to yield.
"Well, I'm not the one who crossed the line," he countered. "That was all you."
Brennan laughed chillingly and rolled her eyes.
"Oh please…" she snapped. "You've been crossing that stupid line since the day you created it."
This too, Booth admitted to himself, was true. Unable to come up with a rebuttal, Booth allowed them to sink into an unhappy silence. He looked over at Brennan's angry yet vulnerable face and realized that this was all wrong. He internally fumbled for the words to make everything alright again.
"Bones… I'm sorry," he mumbled gently, unable to come up with anything better.
Booth's soft utterance seemed to take the fight out of Brennan. She leaned against her seat and sighed wearily, her face conveying exhaustion rather than rage.
"Don't be sorry Booth…" she told him tiredly. "I just don't know where we're going with all this anymore. Maybe I should be thanking you for stopping us. Maybe we were about to ruin everything."
Brennan fell into a miserable silence and Booth felt even more at unease. He noticed that Brennan's chin look wobbly and her eyes look moist. With a pang in his chest, Booth reached out to her. She flinched away as though avoiding the plague.
"Don't Booth," she warned sharply. "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired of the running and holding back… And I'm tired of feeling confused every time one of us crosses the line."
Booth let his hand fall, but Brennan still scooted as far away from him as possible.
"If you want to have a line Booth," she began, her voice thick with emotion. "Then don't cross it."
Brennan faced her back to him and Booth, feeling the worst he could ever remember feeling, watched her helplessly as she discreetly tried to wipe her cheeks.
A/N: That was a cheerful chapter, right? lol Thanks for reviewing, and just so you know, I edited chapter 2 to include a brief line about cell phones. Brennan and Booth's cell phones have no service, that's why they can't use them. Special thanks to the person that pointed that out to me.