Consolation Prize Chapter 4, a bones fanfic

Consolation Prize

By LizD

Chapter 4 – On the down side, a week without Bones; on the upside, a week without Booth/Hannah.

A/N: For the record I have nothing against Hannah other than that she was a hackneyed plot device (unless of course she is here to stay) and that they took too many short cuts to get her so embedded in Booth's life. Is Booth really that shallow or mean spirited that he would transfer his affections so quickly and so completely to another person without even a pang of guilt upon seeing Brennan again? And that though my FanFix tend to push the SHIP forward, I would have much preferred they leave it alone on the show itself. Have them work together and continually grow closer (leaving these plot devises OFF SCREEN) until such time as they were ready to put them together. AND ... I don't believe in the Moonlighting Curse unless of course you consider the Moonlighting Curse to be the curse of what happens Behind The Scenes screwing up what happens ON SCREEN. I don't consider that a curse that is just life in Hollywood.

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Booth walked into the lab late on Friday night. The place was nearly deserted; clearly people were rushing home to family, lovers, friends, weekend plans that were in the making since early Monday morning. Booth had no one waiting for him, he had no plans - weekend or otherwise. It had never bothered him in the past. That was no longer the case. Since Hannah left he had been doing a lot of deep thinking and he was slowing edging toward a realization.

Angela was standing in Brennan's doorway giving her some final bits of information before she was to head out for her weekend. She turned, struck a pose and flashed one of her safe sexy smiles at Booth. She looked GREAT. She was certainly beginning to show her baby bump, and she literally glowed. It helped that she was dressed for a night out.

"Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Angela," he called to her. "You look HOT Mamma."

"Not bad for a future Mom, huh?" She flaunted her stuff.

"If all the mom's looked like you, I'd join the PTA." He scanned her up and down one more time.

"Jack is taking me out," she explained. "We are trying to stuff as many date nights in as we can before we have to shut it down for eighteen years."

"Not eighteen," he said as if he knew about being a fulltime parent. "Maybe just one … and you know Bones and I will baby sit whenever you need to get out of the house."

"Consider yourself booked, bucko." Angela saunter away.

Booth stood in Brennan's doorway for a long moment before she acknowledged him. "Did you bring that file I asked for?" she asked not looking up.

Their partnership was still a little strained. Their friendship was almost nonexistent. They would get both back, neither were concerned about that, but it was a tough time. It has been four weeks since Hannah left and Booth really wasn't back to his old self. He was quiet, his mood was toned down, he was even less agitated by the squints overly detailed explanations. Brennan assumed it was because he wasn't listening and would get the translation from her if it really were important. He rarely came by the lab unless it was necessary. Brennan has been doing her own avoidance act since her confrontation about Parker, actually it was since her declaration of love on the day that Hannah left. It was poorly timed and not the right thing to say - it was one hundred percent true, but still poorly timed. She wasn't expecting Booth to turn his affections back toward her, in fact she was pretty convinced that she had hurt him too deeply to ever really expect that, but she thought it might have brought them a little closer. That was not the case - at least not yet. Booth had barely acknowledged her statement in words, at least not soberly. But she didn't blame him; she should have kept her mouth shut which was her current plan.

"Right here." He waved the file and placed it on the edge of her desk.

"You didn't need to bring it yourself."

"I was in the neighborhood," he half smiled. "Can I help with that?" He slouched down into one of her guest chairs and put his feet up on her desk. His words said 'help' but his manner said not.

She glanced toward his feet without moving her head and looked back down at the file. "I've got it."

"So," he said nonchalantly. "Wanna grab some dinner?" He was overly casual as if it wasn't the first time in more than a four months they would grab some dinner.

She stopped writing but that was the only indication that she heard him. An almost undetectable shake of her head and she was back to work. She signed in two places, put her pen down, looked up and saw that he wasn't looking directly at her. He was focused on the end of his tie. She couldn't tell if his 'invitation' was sincere or if he was just being polite. "I'm sorry," she said flatly. "I have yoga tonight."

"Right ... well ... another time."

She closed the folder. Took the one he had brought, did a quick scan and signed where indicated and handed them both to Booth. "Here you go." He had to sit up to take them, which caused their eyes to meet albeit for nanoseconds.

He stood and walked toward the door. "Alright then."

"Have a good evening."

He started to leave but paused. Without putting any serious thought into his next action, he turned back toward her, stood up very straight with his shoulders back and his hands cross respectfully in front of him he said: "Temperance, would you have dinner with me?"

She looked up a little puzzled. "I told you that -."

"No, not tonight ... tomorrow night." He paused. "I would like to take you to dinner. We can go to that Italian place you're always talking about with the wine list for days and the great pumpkin ravioli." Booth had sneered at pumpkin ravioli every time she mentioned it.

She stood up a bit confused. Was he asking her out on a date? "Not the kind of place to discuss -."

"No, no discussion, no work talk, no murderers, or dead bodies or particulates." He smiled that charmed smile only with a lot more sincerity than he typically displayed. "Just you & me and food & wine."

It was a date. Her head immediately screamed NO! "I would like that very much," she said warmly.

"Great!" His smile broadened and he almost forgot the next step. It had been so long since he had asked a woman for a proper date. "Right, well ... I'll pick you up at eight?"

"Ok." The restaurant he was referring to was very pricy, probably more expensive than he knew. "Booth, we don't have to go there ... I mean just because -."

"No," he stopped her. "No, it sounds good." He almost grinned. "I mean who would have thought of putting pumpkin in a ravioli?"

"They have other items on the menu, including steak and lamb."

"I'm not worried about the food -" He didn't want to call her Bones. It was too much like work and too familiar a nickname, but Temperance was too formal, so he just let it hang out there. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right."

He walked away with a little more spring in his step. Brennan had a very difficult time clearing her head for Yoga.

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Booth was almost nervous getting ready for dinner the next night. He had slept well, had a great work out on Saturday morning. Got all his weekend chores done (which included a haircut, getting his SUV washed, his suit pressed and polishing his shoes) and was in a great mood all day. He had a date. A date with a beautiful intelligent woman. He would be a perfect gentleman: arriving on time, opening doors for her, holding her chair, not letting his gaze stray. They would eat well, share a fine bottle of wine, laugh at each other's jokes and talk about nothing of consequence. A Date. He was really looking forward to it. It wasn't until he was in the shower that it occurred to him - Bones didn't do small talk and she never laughed at his jokes. They disagreed about almost everything; sometimes quite loudly. And those were the topics he knew about - but after five years, how many topics were left to cover? And what if she wanted to discuss any from the last four months? It wouldn't be out of character for her to pointedly ask the difficult questions on topics that were not date subject matter. During his shave he decided that it would all be OK. They were adults and would be on their best behavior - but it was clear in his head, this was not two friends or colleagues having dinner. This was a date.

He wore is Sunday-go-to-meetin' suit - the best one he had. He hadn't worn it in over a year. With his time in Afghanistan and his change in workout since being back he had lost some of his bulk. He was solid as a rock, so it looked good a little loose. He almost stopped at the flower shop on the way to his to her house, but thought that would be just too over the top. There was still something in the back of his head that was gnawing at him. It finally surfaced when he pushed for the elevator in her building. Did Bones think this was a date or just dinner? He sweated it the whole ride up to her floor and the long walk down to her door. He had finally decided that what she wore would tell him exactly what she was thinking. Dressed down = just dinner, Dressed up = date. See, how hard was it to read a woman? He nearly dropped his teeth when she opened the door. She was stunningly beautiful. Of course, there were times when Bones was wearing a jumpsuit with messy pony tail holding a decaying skull that Booth thought the same thing. But it wasn't clear: dinner or date.

She wore a simple black dress above the knee but not too high, not too tight or too loose, not low cut, but not a turtle neck either. She could have worn that going out with Angela. Down? There was a single solitaire at her throat, studs in her ears and something on her wrist which gave her just enough sparkle. Up? Her hair was down but done and probably professionally - as were her nails and make up. Could be down or up; nothing that would support his up/down theory. Then he saw the shoes. Three inch strappy stilettos that were deep, deep red. Those told him all he needed to know: UP therefore DATE.

Brennan was the first to speak. "You look very well this evening," she said stepping back to allow him to enter. "New suit?"

Booth didn't move. His first reaction was to play it down. Say one of those causal comments that compliments but doesn't give anything away like you clean up well, but instead he was sincere. He looked directly into her eyes. "You're extraordinary," he croaked out and stepped in not taking his eyes from hers. "I mean ... you look fantastic."

"Thank you," she said coyly casting her gaze downward in a very female, un-Brennan way. "Do we have time for a drink here?"

Booth wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep her all to himself. But the truth was he needed to keep moving. His anxiety level for the evening just shot through the roof. Suddenly, he was less worried about the dinner conversation, and had jumped ahead to the end of the night. If she were any other woman, if she were someone he just met, he would know exactly what to do, but this was Bones, Temperance, his partner, his friend, the one who got away - or had she? That could all change tonight. No pressure, eh Booth? "No," he said reluctantly. "We should probably go."

She gave a slight nod and turned to the counter to pick up her wrap. Booth stepped forward quickly to take it from her and drape is around her shoulders. She smelled great. He let his hands rest just a moment longer than necessary on her shoulders. She picked up her clutch, same deep red color of her shoes, and turned back toward him. He wasn't sure why, but he put his arm out for her and she linked hers through easily. They fit together perfectly.

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Dinner was fantastic. They had a quiet table in the corner. The service was attentive but not overbearing. The wine was seductive. The food was over the top excellent including the pumpkin ravioli and too many other selections that the chef had prepared exclusively for them. However all of that paled in comparison to the dinner conversation. There was no shortage of topics, there was no bickering. There was a lot of laughing and a great deal of exchange of personal information (hopes, dreams, fears) that until that moment had never been confirmed or openly discussed. Before they knew it, it was eleven-thirty and they were the last ones in the dining room. It was late but neither one wanted the evening to end quite yet.

Booth drove to the reflecting pool and suggested a walk. Brennan agreed. About ten steps into the walk, she again linked her arm through his to steady herself as she leaned down to pull off her heels.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I didn't think."

She dismissed his concern with a slight shake of the head. She was about to launch into a detailed explanation of the history of women's foot-ware though the ages and the societal impact but stopped herself. "No, please ... you were saying something about dinner?" She redirected his attention to the what they were talking about, but she didn't unlink her arm from his. They still fit perfectly, though she was somewhat shorter now.

"You called ahead," he said with a slight smile. "Didn't you?"

She didn't want to confirm his suspicion, but she nodded. "It's near impossible to get a reservation," she started to defend. She had called ahead. She told them to expect Booth's call. She was protecting his ego. She thought she was doing the right thing. "Please don't think -."

"It's alright." He cut her off. "I appreciate it."

"How did you know?"

"Cause it's impossible to get a reservation there but yet I call late on a Friday night and miraculously the best table in the house is available for us on a busy Saturday night and I didn't have to drop your name. The service was too good and there were too many items that we didn't order that the chef prepared for us to taste and -." He looked down into her eyes. "You put the chef and the restaurant into your book, yet no knew who you were."

She smiled. "You're a very astute detective Special Agent Booth."

"Nothing gets by me," he said proudly.

She took a beat and then said, "Something things do."

He stopped and turned her to face him keeping her hand in his. He wasn't joking around anymore. "That's not my intention."

"I know."

The moon was high in the night sky and cast a crescent glow down on to the pool. There was a slight chill in the air. The sounds of the city ebbed away from them as they looked into each other's eyes. He inched closer. It was the perfect moment.

Until it wasn't.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. A vibrating buzz can be just as intrusive as crashing cymbals depending upon the moment. Brennan stepped back and looked away. He would have ignored the phone, or at least not answered it, but the moment was broken. He pulled the phone out of his pocket. The call had already gone to voice mail. He saw the caller ID. It was the bureau. He would have slid the phone back into his pocket and recapture the moment, but she wouldn't allow it.

"You should call them back," she said. How she knew it was work and not anyone else, was probably more than a lucky guess.

"Yeah," he said sadly. He did and of course there was a dead decaying body the size of a child found in at school playground in Virginia. A case that had Booth and Brennan written all over it. Why it was discovered on a Saturday night near midnight was just bad luck - their bad luck, the finders bad luck, the child's bad luck had run out a long time before that. He hung up and briefed her quickly.

"Back to work," she said with as much good nature as she could muster considering the severe disappointment she was still holding on to. She started to head back to the car.

"Hey," he caught her arm. "This was not how I wanted the night to end."

"I know." She wasn't upset with him; just disappointed to the edge of tears. "Dinner was great. Thank you," she dismissed recovering her composure.

He held her in place. "Temperance," he said her name softly. "This was not how I wanted the evening to end," he repeated hoping that he wouldn't have to say more. She nodded but chose not to punctuate it with anything verbal. Booth couldn't let it rest. "I wanted to kiss you here under the stars and then take you home. I would have walked you to your door, kissed you goodnight and called you tomorrow to tell you what a wonderful time I had and asked you for another date ... maybe even tomorrow night, depending upon your response."

"I would have been free," she said easily.

"Unfortunately by morning we will be hip deep in this new investigation and who knows how long before we get another chance." She shrugged a nod agreeing to his assessment. "Please know that we will. We will get another chance." She nodded again. "Come on," he put his hand to her lower back to direct her back to the car. "Can't show up at a crime scene with those shoes. I'll take you home to change."

Still in gentleman mode he opened the door for her. He caught sight of her heels still in her hand. He would be damned if the night would get away from him completely. Before she climbed in he caught her around the waist. "I had a wonderful time tonight," he said.

"Thank you," she repeated. "So did I."

He leaned in reading her expression. If he had seen anything that would let him know to stop, he would have stopped. There was no indication from her so he followed through. He inched toward her keeping his eyes open and lightly pressed his lips to hers. A spark of desire shot through his body. He combed his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Her shoes dropped to the ground and her arms came around him, leaning her whole body into his she returned the kiss. Neither wanted it to end, but reason and responsibility won out - again.

He was speechless, but his expression said it all. She smiled back. A good start.

The night would probably not have ended at her door, so maybe it was a good thing they had to work. He wanted to take it slowly with Brennan - not because he was concerned that it wouldn't work. Rather he had just been spanked for rushing into something. With Brennan he just wanted to savory each baby step. He wasn't even sure when he had made that decision but it was probably sometime during the dessert course or the moment he saw those shoes.

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A/N: Well? Hey I posted a day or two early, that should net some kind of reaction, yes? No? Maybe?