Brennan sat in her office, she had been reviewing the documents for the latest case. It had been three days and she was starting to see a common thread connecting this case to others. She continued to sift through documents, it had been hours since everyone had said their goodbyes to her. She had texted Booth that she would be spending the night at her own place and not to wait up, but in true Booth fashion, he requested that she at least call when she was home so he could hear her voice.
"Knock, knock." Agent Whitford said as he knocked on the glass. Brennan looked up and squinted at him as her eyes adjusted to the light.
"Agent Whitford, what are you doing here?" Brennan asked, looking at the clock. Shit, it's already 10 p.m. Booth won't be happy. She thought to herself.
"Well, I saw your email and realized that you were probably still in the lab working. I wanted to make sure my favorite scientist ate something for dinner." He gave her a megawatt smile, but Brennan had already started to look back at her documents.
"It's just that the fractures combined with the stabbing reminded me of a couple of skeletal remains that I had reviewed in limbo." Brennan responded. Some of the remains were from five years prior, when her and Booth had first started their true partnership. She remembered how they were brought in, but placed in limbo because other cases had taken precedence.
"What do you mean? Limbo?" Whitford replied and Brennan looked up at him. His eyes seemed to glimmer in the dimly lit office, he placed the food on her coffee table and sat in the chair opposite of her desk.
"Oh, it's the storage facility here at the Jeffersonian. We have hundreds of unidentified bodies from all over the world that we work on, helping identify the remains and if needed, bring justice for the victims, but with us working so closely with the FBI in recent years, we only work in limbo when we don't have a case. I usually spend a couple hours each morning in limbo just to work on tissue markers for Angela." Brennan explained, Whitford was completely enthralled with Brennan.
"You spend a couple hours every day? What time do you get in?" He asked, more interested in Brennan than the bones.
"Oh, well Booth and I wake up for our morning run at 5:30, then we leave around 6:30, I usually scan in around 7, but I'm sure Greg can pull up my keycard access if you're interested in exact times." Brennan rattle. Whitford noticed that she didn't like to speak in estimates and he had also noticed that she would mention Booth without realizing. It was like he was this integral part of her life without her even realizing. Well he is her boyfriend, Harvey. He told himself, but it didn't stop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
"And you're here past 10 p.m.? Shouldn't you go home?" He asked. He had talked to Lance Sweets that morning, who mentioned Brennan's intense work ethic. Sweets had been tightlipped about her relationship with Booth.
"Agent Whitford, I work very closely with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan, they are subjects in my book. I don't believe it's my place to gossip about them as if we're in high school." Lance mentioned.
"Oh, c'mon, Dr. Sweets, I'm not asking for you to tell me their life stories, I was just wondering what caused the sudden romantic involvement and what made them work as partners. The entire bureau seems to know that Booth would do anything for Brennan, but no one has been able to get close to her. Why is that?" Whitford asked, but received nothing. Sweets had his eyes cast over Whitford's shoulder, when Whitford finally turned, he made eye contact with a furrowed-brow Booth.
"Everything okay here?" Booth asked, he was twirling his empty Pittsburgh Steelers mug around, wiping the inside with his tie.
"Agent Whitford was just asking for insight into Dr. Brennan's work ethic since he is working so closely with her now, Agent Booth." Sweets murmured, watching closely as the mug stopped mid-twirl.
"Ah, Bones will stay at the lab until she feels comfortable going home. Sometimes she'll even sleep there. She's one of the hardest workers you'll ever see." Booth replied, his tone terse.
"You call Dr. Brennan bones?" Whitford asked, looking at Booth, but Sweets interjected.
"It's a nickname that she does not allow others to call her, but Agent Booth, I would advise you don't use it with her." Whitford listened to Sweets, but continued to look at Booth. He saw the fierce blaze in Booth's eyes, almost taunting Whitford, challenging him to try to make a move with Brennan.
"Yea, I'm with Sweets, don't use that name with Temperance. She doesn't take lightly to others calling her that." The smirk on Booth's lips was undeniable. It was like a mark. Only Booth could call her that. Whitford scowled and turned on his heels.
"Dr. Sweets, I will talk to you if I run into any issues while working with Dr. Brennan." He called over his shoulder.
"I like to get my work to a point that I feel comfortable before going home." Brennan said, almost repeating the sentiment of Booth's words from earlier that day.
"Ah, well, if it's for you, then by all means continue to work for however long you'd like, but if this is some type of requirement Agent Booth placed on you, don't worry, I'm not going to force you to stay so late." Whitford smirked, but Brennan looked at him with a scowl.
"Booth has never required me to work late, if anything, he's the one who would come in and make me go home so I could get a good night's rest." Brennan replied. Her eyes scanning the tick in Whitford's jaw and the furrowing of his brow. Booth had taught her to read certain signs on a person's face, what Whitford was depicting was frustration, but she didn't know who the frustration was geared towards. "Anyway, there are five sets of remains, each about a year apart in time of death, all found within the D.C. area. Each victim is a woman in her mid to late twenties, former dancer, who had been pregnant at the time of her death. The stab wounds, although not identical, all look to be similar in nature as our current victim, and they all seem to have defensive wounds to the ulnar and radius." She handed Whitford the notes. "Each victim ranged from about 1.6 to 1.67 meters in height."
He scanned the detailed notes. He was surprised at the thorough nature of her theories. "Furthermore, each of the victims show signs of capture, similar fracture healing as former prisoners of war." She mentioned, pointing toward the end of her notes. Whitford nodded in understanding.
"Interesting find. So you believe we have a serial killer?" Whitford proposed, but Brennan shook her head.
"I would not agree with such an assumption so early on, simply stating that the fractures, cause of death, and basic characteristics of the victims show commonalities. I do not know if they are connected or if this is simply coincidental. As you would likely agree that stabbings of younger women are not uncommon in the D.C. area, especially to vulnerable populations, such as smaller statured, pregnant women." She responded. Whitford tried to hide the smile that crept on his face. She's so incredibly endearing. He thought. His heart fluttered and he had to remind himself that Agent Seeley Booth had made his possession of Dr. Temperance Brennan known.
"Right, I just meant, all of these remains hold some commonalities that made you think there could be a connection?" Whitford reworded his question. He was beginning to realize that jumping to certain conclusions, like most agents liked to do, was not a way to get Brennan to open up to him.
"Exactly. I believe with that information, I have put in my due diligence for today." She responded and began placing notebooks and her water bottle into a messenger bag that had been lying on the floor.
"Would you like to eat? I still have some takeout, in case you were hungry. You mentioned you were vegetarian, so I ordered the tofu option." Whitford held his breath. It felt like he was asking a girl out on a date in high school, he had to remind himself of Booth steely gaze, like a bucket of cold water to his system.
"Oh, well if you went through the trouble, sure." Brennan spoke softly and with a lot of consideration. "Dr. Sweets mentioned that it would be good for us to spend some extra time together to better our rapport." She stated matter-of-factly and for once, Whitford wanted to hug the young psychiatrist. "Let me go wash my hands." She murmured, getting up and briskly walking toward the bathrooms.
Once out of earshot, she hit Booth's number.
"Bones! God, I swear, you're going to work yourself to death! Not literally, but still." Booth stated the moment he picked up. "But you're home now?" He asked and Brennan sighed.
"No, I was about to head home when Agent Whitford stopped by my office." She heard what sounded like a muffled growl. "He brought some takeout, so I am taking Sweets' advice to build a better relationship with him and I will be eating dinner with him."
"Dinner? Bones, it's 10 o'clock at night, you're alone in the office with this guy?" Booth tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand pulled at his hair.
"He's not some random man, he's an agent and I'm required to work with him for the next three months." Brennan responded.
"Yea, don't remind me." Booth muttered.
"Booth, we have to get used to the fact that Agent Whitford is now my main contact with the FBI." Brennan replied, which only caused Booth's heart rate to shoot up.
"I'm still your main contact. Don't ever get that messed up." Booth gritted his teeth. It hadn't even been a full work-week and he felt like he was losing Brennan to the bureau's stupid protocols.
"Don't get bogged down by semantics. He is the main liaison, I have to work with him. If you're uncomfortable with me having dinner with him, that speaks more to your alpha-male possessiveness, which I will not tolerate." Brennan started to get frustrated. Booth had been showing more possessive nature since they started dating, which she suspected would happen, but she had to remain professional.
"Okay, fine, babe, just let me know when you get home, please." Booth sounded exasperated. "And if you want me to meet you at your place, just say the word and I'll be there." He murmured, a sultry nature in his tone, which elicited a chuckle out of Brennan.
"You kept me up far too late last night. Let's plan to have dinner tomorrow." She replied.
"Hey, you didn't complain, last I checked." Booth chuckled before growing serious. "I love you, Bones."
"I love you too, Booth." She whispered back, still feeling her heart hammering when they exchanged those words.
The call ended and Booth looked at the phone before dialing a number.
"Agent Booth, this is quite late for such a call. What do I owe the pleasure?" Lance Sweets sat alone in his apartment, he had been watching the highlights on ESPN when the call came in.
"What is your problem?" Booth gritted out, causing Sweets to stiffen.
"I beg your pardon?" He responded, he knew that Agent Booth had an abrasive way of handling the psychiatrist, and to be honest, Sweets enjoyed their banter, but this was a new set of hostility.
"You telling Bones to build a relationship with Whitford, what the hell is that about?" Booth responded and Sweets sighed.
"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan does amazing work with the FBI -"
"I know, I was there." Booth interjected.
"Agent Booth, for her to continue her work with the FBI, she has to hold some type of relationship with the agents involved and since she can't run to you-"
"Because you had us separated." Booth muttered.
"Now wait a second, Agent Booth, that's not true. Yes, I informed Director Cullen of the change in your relationship status, but I spent the entire weekend fighting to keep you two together. I showed him my entire file on the two of you and he still needed to follow protocol. The only thing separating you and Dr. Brennan is FBI policy." Sweets rattled and Booth sighed.
"I still don't see how Bones having dinner with Whitford at 10 p.m. will help them build a relationship." Booth mumbled.
"Wow, Whitford is with Dr. Brennan right now? That must be difficult for you, considering the newness of your romantic endeavors with Dr. Brennan. It must not be easy for you to adjust not only to this new aspect of your relationship but also Dr. Brennan's involvement with another man."
"Involvement with another man?! This isn't some weird dating show situation, she's working with someone else for work purposes. She's not kissing him under the mistletoe."
"Didn't you and Dr. Brennan share a kiss under mistletoe while you were only in a working relationship?" Sweets retorted causing Booth to angrily growl.
"Sweets, I swear, you are taking that story out of context … Why am I even justifying that with a response? Christ. You know what, Sweets, just stop, I'm done with this conversation." Booth rambled before hanging up the phone. Placing the phone on his bedside table, he tried watching television, before shutting it off and staring at the ceiling. I hate this. Booth thought to himself. I fucking hate this. Before getting up grabbing his overnight bag and walking out the door.
-BB-
Brennan yawned as she parked her car. By the time she was done with dinner, it was closer to 11 p.m. She had learned a lot about Agent Whitford, not because she asked him, he just talked a lot. He grew up in a loving family in the suburbs of Chicago. His father was a police officer for their village and inspired him to look into criminal justice. He had an older sister who was a surgeon at Northwestern, and he had recently become an uncle. He was so incredibly different from Booth. She really could not connect with Agent Whitford in the same way. He didn't understand what it was like to have a difficult childhood, or how she would have felt only reconnecting with her brother a few years earlier. Her parents going missing, her being in foster care, her life being torn apart before the age of 16, he couldn't understand it. There would be this major disconnect between them.
As she walked toward the front of her building, she noticed Booth's car in the lot. They had exchanged keys years ago. Something that best friends do. She had told herself, but really when she gave Booth a key, it was more for the wishful thinking that he would pop by whenever.
She unlocked her door and quietly walked in. She could hear the radio going, some sports channel. Booth's head was resting on the back of the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. He was wearing his flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hugged his muscular upper body. His eyes were closed, but Brennan knew he was awake. Sniper training never really went away, he woke up the moment she put her key in the lock.
"Booth, I'm home. But I assume you already know that." She murmured, placing her bag on the counter and padding over to the couch. Booth's eyes snapped open and a warm smile spread across his face. His arms reached out to her and like a moth to a flame, her body gravitated toward his touch. He had moved his feet off the coffee table and spread his legs apart so that Brennan could stand in-between. He rested his chin on her taut stomach and looked up at her.
"I didn't like the idea of you coming home to an empty house so late." He murmured, puckering his lips, to signal he wanted a kiss. She dipped down and provided a whisper of a kiss against his lips.
"I've been coming home to an empty house for well over a decade." She replied and Booth pulled her into his lap.
"Not anymore, now you have me." He responded, placing a kiss against the sensitive skin below her ear. He could feel her heart rate rise as he continued to place featherlight kisses down her neck. She sighed into his touch, before putting her hands against his chest and pushing him lightly.
"I need to shower and get ready for bed. It was a long day and as we've previously discussed, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Brennan rattled, and Booth sighed. He knew that once they started, they wouldn't be done for hours, so she was right. They needed a good night's sleep. Getting up, he followed her to her bedroom, watching as she stripped out of her button-down and business slacks. Her white lace bra and matching panties taunted him, as she grabbed a towel out of the linen closet next to the adjacent bathroom. She didn't close the door as she turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up, steam began to filter into the bedroom.
Brennan could feel Booth's gaze as she made a small show of taking off her undergarments. She knew he came here in a possessive haze, wanting to claim her because he was annoyed about her having to spend time with Agent Whitford. But he needed to know that she called the shots now. She gave him a sideways glance, just as he adjusted his prominent erection in his pajama pants. She could see the tortured look in his eyes, debating whether to say fuck it and join her in the shower, or allow her that much needed rest she had told him about. But from the moment Brennan had walked in and saw Booth's silhouette, the tiredness she had felt from the day had evaporated.
Finally, as she stood naked about to enter the shower, she looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with Booth, and bending her finger. Come here. Without a second thought, Booth was shucking off his pants and t-shirt, earning a hearty laugh from his beautiful girlfriend.