Spoilers: Neh. Just review and I'm happy!
Disclaimer: Oh, and the last line seems a little cliché to me, what do you think?
Author's Note: Well, I wrote this chapter completely, but I didn't like it. It didn't fit where I wanted it to, so I had to surgically remove the end and replace it with another. The other end will be included later (a later chapter), but I didn't like it at this point in the story.
Geez, I'm subtle. Wonder what could have happened!
…Actually, it's probably not what you think…
"Catch!"
Brennan's hand reached out automatically as a carrot was hurled at her.
"Is that really necessary?" she snapped at the pitcher. He rolled his eyes.
"Duh!" he drawled, drawing the sound out. She flashed her knife at him, only half joking. He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, crazy anthropologist with the knife wins!"
She smiled happily.
"But the potatoes are boiling over."
She let out an uncharacteristically surprised grunt and spun to find the stove covered in water. He laughed and turned his back to his snippy partner.
Since their conversation earlier, she'd been a little touchy. He wasn't sure whether it had been the fact that he'd won, or the content. Or the fact that desire was almost palpable this time.
Yeah, Booth, this time… He shook his head at himself and tossed another projectile vegetable at Brennan. When she turned, he grinned as widely as he could. It worked, and she smirked, clearly formulating a payback plan already in her brilliant mind.
"Smells good," Laura clichéd as she rounded the corner from upstairs. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore jeans and a plain baby-blue tee shirt. Brennan figured her home wardrobe was as boring as her work wardrobe. And that was a pretty big amount of boredom to match.
Alex followed closely behind, his hair wet from the shower, also sporting jeans and a tee shirt. There was a name of a band Brennan had never heard of before plastered on the front and back of the shirt.
Brennan smiled a thanks politely and went back to chopping, Booth smiling at her. He looked at Laura and Alex who were seated at the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the lounge room. Booth moved to hand them a glass of wine each, but stopped half way there.
Alex cocked an eyebrow. "Dude, you okay?"
Booth didn't hear him. He smiled. How very…domestic it all seemed. Him and his Bones; these two other people; the wine; the playful fighting. Well, playful on his part…
An image began to form in his mind. A shout of "Mommy, Daddy!" Booth made a noise between a groan and a yell and shook his head. Looking around him he shrugged; everyone was staring at him.
He handed the glasses to Laura and Alex.
They took a sip as Alex pulled out a deck of cards, dealing them both in.
"Sorry," he apologized generically. He cleared his brain of all thoughts Brennan-related. Or tried to. But she had decided upon her revenge.
"Booth?" she whined. Booth forced himself to look at her.
"Yes, dear?" he asked sarcastically. She glared at him. "Bones," he corrected hastily. Sarcasm wasn't helping him have non-domestic thoughts. The endearment had annoyed, however, and she wasn't giving up that easily, leaving her revenge for later.
"You know," she began angrily. "Even if we were married, or dating, because I would never marry you-"
"Gee, thanks for that, Bones," Booth said in mock hurt. She glared ice at him. Alex and Laura subtly peeked over their cards and watched them out of the corner of their eyes, continuing the pretense of playing Go Fish.
"Don't interrupt," she spat. "As I was saying, I would never permit you to call me 'dear'." She took a huffed breath, crossing her arms. Booth thought for a second, as if deciding which emotion with which to reply would be the best. Or safest.
Or most fun.
"Why not?" he teased. She rolled her eyes as if he were unutterably stupid. Stupid, no; masochistic, yes.
"Because it's just another way of a male trying to control his mate, Booth, that's why!" She stared at him, challenging him to refute her. He did.
"So we're 'mates'?" he asked with a playful, and all too annoying, flick of his eyebrows. Her jaw tightened. He was being inane deliberately, she knew that. It annoyed her even more. If he were just stupid, it wouldn't really be his fault.
This was something she'd learned from Booth, actually.
"Shut up, Booth. Why do you insist on annoying me?! You understand perfectly what I'm saying!"
"No, I don't," he pouted. "I really want to know why!"
Alex flashed Laura a twenty from his pocket. She nodded and silently hooked her pinky around his in promise. It seemed more subtle than shaking hands. And she was more likely to win if Booth and Brennan were not interrupted.
"Why? I just told you why, Booth," she huffed, her voice getting louder and about an octave higher.
"No, you told me the anthropological, BS 'why'."
She looked at him, stunned and a little confused. He lowered his voice, but didn't move. "I want to know why, why."
"You're not making sense," she said lamely. She turned around suddenly and began on the vegetables. They were likely to be eating soup by the time she was done. Booth's eyebrows drew together and he moved over to the counter, fearing that he'd upset her. More than he intended.
"I am an anthropologist, Booth," she stated without stopping. Booth nodded and leaned a hip against the counter so he was facing her side. When he moved his head to try and catch her eyes, she didn't respond. He sighed and leaned across her, taking the knife out of her hand.
Afraid she would get angry, or angrier, he shrugged. "It's okay, Bones, the vegetables are already dead." After succeeding in the hardest part, getting Brennan to acknowledge him, he cocked his head again, this time meeting her eyes. Her expression was unreadable.
"Whatever it is, don't take it out on them," he said, pointing his newly acquired blade towards the orange and green mush on the cutting board. To his surprise, Brennan laughed quietly at the mess she'd made.
"See what you make me do, Booth? Do you see that mess? That's your fault," she said amusedly but quietly, prodding him in the chest. He grabbed her finger.
"Oh yeah? Was I the one with the knife, Miss Brennan?" he asked pointedly. Her expression of amusement matched his, and she suddenly realized how close they were standing; toe to toe with her hand in his between them.
She took a step back forcedly, but didn't remove her hand from his.
"Guns don't kill people; people do," she quoted. Booth briefly wondered where she'd heard that before. He snorted derisively.
"Moot point, Bones."
Her lips twitched and Booth watched in amusement and adoration as her expression changed. "It's only moot if I can't win this argument," she replied finally, with a small smirk. Despite her brilliance, he was one step ahead of her.
"Trust you to take it literally…" he muttered, earning a small frown. "But one question." Alex and Laura physically leaned forward.
"Yes?" Brennan queried in mock boredom. He could see the challenge in her eyes. And something else. He couldn't help himself. He leaned forward as far as he could without touching her; his mouth barely two inches from hers.
She could feel his breath as he spoke. "How are you gonna win with only one hand?"
At about midnight, Booth wandered into the lounge room. Alex had gone to bed first, deciding that he was 'Banged', whatever that meant. Booth didn't want to think about it too much. Laura had followed shortly after, deciding that her book was sending her to sleep.
Brennan and Booth had sat in the living room in near silence since then. Booth had kept the TV quiet enough so as not to irritate her, and she'd tucked her legs underneath her and booted up her laptop.
He watched her expression change subtly as she typed, and he wondered what she was writing. A cheeky smile lifted the corners of her mouth at one point, and he couldn't help but ask. She'd barely even glanced at him, so absorbed was she. He rolled his eyes. As he turned back around to the TV, she stretched out a leg and kicked him, retracting it almost immediately.
They'd both grinned to themselves.
Now, as he reentered the room from upstairs, he stopped dead in his tracks. Brennan was lying curled up on the couch hugging a pillow to her stomach, her back pressed against the back of the couch as if she were seeking warmth. Booth couldn't help but smile.
For the whole day, almost all they'd done was argue. And sexually frustrate him to no end. Thank God she's shut up, the still-in-denial part of his brain kicked in. He pulled a face at himself and moved towards his sleeping partner cautiously.
They'd been sleeping in the same room for two nights; but his was different. For one, he was far from asleep. There was just something innately different about this. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there.
He sat on the coffee table in front of her and put a hand to her shoulder. She didn't move. He frowned. What to do, what to do, his sarcastic self mocked. Shaking his head, he swiveled his eyes around the room as if there were something else there that could help him.
There was not. But his eyes stopped at her laptop. Smiling, and without much doubt, he scrolled up the page and began to read. He had to know what she was smiling at. As he read, a smile lit his face slowly.
What he was reading was not a sex scene, as he'd previously suspected. She could deny it quite easily, but he knew better. It was an argument, just subtly comparable to the one he'd just experienced.
Only this time, she won. And this time, she kissed him. Hard.
He stared at the electronic page for what seemed like an hour, trying to process the information. He recalled the conversation he'd had at the Jeffersonian about Brennan's unintentional writing style. Angela and Goodman had been right, he knew.
He dared a look at Brennan who was still, to his relief and curse, asleep on the couch in front of him. Sighing, he pushed the screen of the laptop down, his eyes never leaving Brennan. He leaned forward; his elbows on his knees, supporting his suddenly heave head with fists. He closed his eyes.
"Bones, Bones, Bones…" he sighed with a whispered laugh and a bemused shake of his head. He was sure that Brennan was trying to kill him. Or else he was seeing things where 'things' were not. Sick masochist, Seeley!
"Mm."
His head snapped up. Had she heard him? "Bones?" he dared. He didn't want her to wake up. Having her this close, this late, in this mind-frame…
No way.
When she didn't move, he closed his eyes in relief. He let his mind wander, and moved off the table onto the floor, leaning a side against the couch unconsciously facing Brennan. When he opened his eyes, he was staring into Brennan's just-opening blue eyes. He grunted, surprised. He figured he must have fallen asleep.
Staring at her, so close, he hoped he had enough self-control. Thankfully, Brennan spoke, breaking the silence. "Booth?"
Uh, who else, Bones? His sarcastic brat of an id carried on. Booth ignored it. "Mm," he managed. Yeah, much better. He smiled.
"Booth," she stated a bit more clearly. He was confused; it sounded like an instruction.
"Yeah, Bones, it's me," he answered calmly. She seemed confused, too, now.
"No; Booth," she emphasized. Booth moved to sit up a bit more comfortably, meaning to push off the couch with his left hand. Instead, he came in contact with something that was definitely not the couch. His hand was tangled comfortably in Brennan's hair. He didn't move it.
Not daring to speak, he risked a glance at Brennan. She was staring intently at him, her expression forcedly skeptical.
"Booth?" Are you getting off any time soon? she seemed to say. Booth extricated his hand, only to place it back on her head, stroking her hair carefully.
"What?" he asked innocently, a Charm Smile playing on his face. He was too 'just-awake' to care about the consequences of what he was doing.
The problem was: what he was doing was playing with fire. Hell, he was playing with C-4. Mixed with some seriously unstable chemical weaponry. All we need for a stable relationship is a bomb squad, the fire department and Homeland Security, his brain snapped.
Luckily for him, Brennan didn't seem too much more caring then he. "That," she mumbled, her eyes closing as his hand made its way to the base of her skull. He laughed under his breath at her helplessness, his hand repeating this motion somewhat of its own volition.
"Come on, then, Bones. We better get to bed," he said for lack of response; Brennan misunderstood. Her sleepy eyes widened. "No, Bones. I didn't mean that!" He chuckled, and her breathing returned to normal. Mostly.
He smiled at her, amusement and care written in his face. He threaded his fingers into her hair and watched as it fell from his raised hand like sand.
"It's really late…" he whispered, turning his eyes back to hers. She seemed a lot more alert now than before, but he took it as a good sign that she hadn't throttled him yet. "Come on," he whispered, forcing himself to stand.
He held out a hand, but she ignored it and stood up wordlessly, throwing a considering glance to her computer. She hit the save key, then turned it off, all within seconds. As they left the lounge room, Booth's hand found Brennan's and he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. This time, she didn't pause at the top of the stairs.
Love me?
