The group on the platform stared in surprise when Brennan rushed back into the lab.
"Zach," she called out as she hurried past them, "while I'm away, I need you to catalogue the skull from the French Revolution and make sure it's returned to the exhibit."
"Of course." He frowned as he visually tracked her path to the stairs. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to Jamaica with Booth," she answered simply. "Dr. Hodgins, please double check the case notes and file logs and see they're shipped to Booth's office. Leave a copy on my desk." The instructions were tossed carelessly over her shoulder as her steps carried her quickly in the direction of her office.
Angela and Hodgins stared at each other in shock. "Wait a minute." Angela shook her head and ran after Brennan. "What? You're going to Jamaica? With Booth?"
"Yes." Brennan was behind her desk, searching through drawers and throwing them shut again.
"Since when?" Angela's mouth hung open as she watched her friend gather an assortment of toiletries and other supplies.
"Since ten minutes ago. I'm being spontaneous." Without another look at her friend, Brennan switched off the lights and headed out.
"Wait . . . Brennan! Wait!" Angela tried to match her steps to Brennan's quick pace. "Will you stop? Tell me what happened!"
Brennan waved her off dismissively. "I don't have time to explain. We have to get to the airport." She stopped in the doorway of the administrator's office. "Dr. Goodman, I will be taking a few days off," she told her astonished boss. " I expect to be back in ten days. Thank you." She turned to leave.
"Dr. Brennan." Shocked, Goodman rose from his chair and stared from her to Angela.
"She's going to Jamaica with Booth," Angela explained, eyebrows raised.
"Be that as it may," he sputtered, "there are procedures to follow . . ." His voice trailed away as Angela's words sunk in. "You're going to the Caribbean with Agent Booth?"
"Yes," Brennan answered. "I'll see you in ten days. Goodbye."
"Dr. Brennan . . ." She was already gone.
Angela chased at her heels. "Sweetie, stop! You can't just go away with Booth and not tell me what's going on!"
"I don't have time to explain." Brennan skipped quickly down the stairs and waved goodbye as she slipped through the double glass doors. "I'll see you all in ten days!"
Angela came to a halt in the middle of the room and watched helplessly as her friend disappeared from view. "Brennan!" She stomped one foot in frustration. "Brennan!"
.
.
.
.
At the airport, Booth passed the thin envelope to the agent behind the counter. "We need to transfer this ticket to a different passenger," he said, adding a smile designed to elicit cooperation as he read the name tag pinned to her shirt. "Can you help us with that, Deidre?"
"Certainly, sir." The pretty blonde dimpled automatically. "May I have the identification of the additional passenger?"
Brennan rolled her eyes as the woman succumbed easily to Booth's charm but handed over her drivers license. "I'm the additional passenger."
Her fingers flew over the keys of the computer as the agent examined the ticket and Brennan's ID before she looked at Booth apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, I can't transfer this ticket. I'll have to cancel it and issue a new one in the your friend's name. There will be an additional fee."
Brennan reached for her wallet again. "Here . . ."
Booth's large hand covered hers. "I got it," he said. "I paid for the original ticket, this was my idea. I'll cover the extra."
"Are you sure?" Brennan looked at him skeptically. "My financial situation is more . . . flexible than yours."
His answer was a raised eyebrow as he passed his credit card across the counter.
Trying to gauge their status, the agent glanced from the computer screen to the couple in front of her, her curiosity obvious as she registered the female name on the ticket she canceled. "Change of plans?"
"His girlfriend dumped him."
"She did not dump me!" Embarrassed, Booth glared at Brennan. "We both . . . Never mind." He shook his head as both women looked at him. "She did not dump me," he repeated firmly.
"Well, it's good to see you're not pining." Smirking, the ticket agent passed Brennan's license back. "Will you be checking any bags?"
"No, I don't have any luggage." Seeing Deidre's raised eyebrows, she frowned defensively. "It was a last minute decision. I'll purchase attire for the week after we arrive."
"Oh." Deidre stapled the new ticket with a loud snap. "How nice."
Annoyed by the woman's knowing attitude, Brennan's chin lifted imperiously. "I'm not going to have sex with him," she asserted. "We're just colleagues. There's nothing romantic between us."
"Bones!" Face red, Booth stared daggers at her as he hissed in disapproval. "She doesn't care!"
This time, the agent didn't even try to hide her smile as she passed the final documents over the counter. "That's too bad." Her eyes gleamed with approval as they skimmed Booth's wide shoulders and dark good looks. "Take me with you," she teased. "I will."
His blush deepened. "Yea," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes, "thanks, Deidre." He stretched his neck as he cleared his throat, and moved Brennan away from the counter with a firm hand on one shoulder. "We better hurry or we'll miss the boarding call."
.
.
.
.
.
.
A little more than four hours later, a taxi dropped them off in front of a picturesque, two-story home perched on a hillside overlooking a secluded cove. A broad porch wrapped around the ground floor of the house and above, a set of wide French doors opened to a small, private balcony. Gauzy curtains fluttered at each open window of the white-washed structure, drifting lazily in breezes that carried the salty tang of the sea.
As the car pulled up, a heavy, dark skinned woman emerged from inside to greet them with a blinding white smile. "Welcome to Jamaica!" she called out, in a voice ringing with the music of the islands. "You are the Booths, yes? I am Magda." She didn't give them a chance to answer but looked over her shoulder and snapped a command that brought a young boy rushing out to grab Booth's carry-on and the shopping bags that contained the airport shopping Brennan had done. She looked with approval on the limited amount of luggage as the youth disappeared into the house. "Small bags, small clothes," she nodded. "This is good." She waved them up the steps. "Come, I'll show you to your room."
When Brennan opened her mouth to speak, Booth silenced her with a touch on her arm. "About the room," he began as they entered the shadowed coolness of the home, "we were wondering if we could get another one . . ."
Magda paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor. "Oh, you'll love this room." Her face creased in a knowing grin. "Very private. Very quiet." The steps creaked beneath her weight as she made her way up. "Come," she said again.
There was a moment's silent hesitation when Booth and Brennan looked anywhere but at each other. Then Brennan's chin lifted firmly.
"We're both adults," she said, in a quiet voice meant only for his ears. "I'm sure it will be fine. I've shared sleeping quarters with the opposite sex on several digs. Once we see the furnishings, we can come to some sort of agreement regarding sleeping arrangements."
Another second passed before Booth nodded. "Yea, okay. I'm sorry, Bones," he added, his expression sincere. "I didn't think about the room when I asked you to come with me."
"It will be fine," she assured him again. "I have no doubt we can both behave appropriately."
"Appropriately," he repeated softly, losing himself for a moment in the shimmering blue of her eyes. His breath hitched as something in his chest shifted, the sensation so strong he actually brought one hand up to massage the area before he realized what he'd done. He pulled himself forcefully from the spell of her gaze, and turned away with a cough. "Yea, appropriately. I'm sure we can do that."
By this time, Magda had reached the top of the stairs and stood smiling down at them. "Up here," she waved. "You will enjoy this room, I think."
She'd given them the room that opened to the small balcony they'd noticed from below, a large, open room with a weathered oak floor covered in colorful hand-tied rugs. The whole space was filled with golden sunshine that warmed the pale green of a small sofa and the bleached wood of the furnishings. It was a pretty room, light and airy and welcoming.
But it was the bed that drew their unerring attention. Together, as if they'd rehearsed the moment, Booth and Brennan paused in the doorway and stared at the oversized piece of furniture that dominated the room. Covered with a plump white comforter and a multitude of lace-edged pillows, the four corners were thick, carved posters that reached almost to the ceiling, draped with loose netting that climbed the twisting columns and spread out in a thin canopy before falling lazily to the floor in filmy curtains that shifted seductively in the sultry, ocean-scented breeze.
It was a bed made for romance.
A bed made for love.
A bed made for sex.
Booth swallowed audibly.
Brennan opened her mouth to speak and when nothing came out, cleared her throat gently and tried again. "It's . . . lovely," was all she could manage.
Magda smiled at the other woman conspiratorially. "The bed is very comfortable," she said and then leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper as she winked. "Good springs. Very quiet." In a louder voice she indicated the bed hangings. "Don't forget to use them if you want to leave the windows open at night. They will keep the bugs away." More brusquely, she pointed out the closet and the adjoining bath. "Breakfast is at 8:00, although maybe there might be something if you sleep late." She cast a last, glowing smile on both of them before she departed. "I'll let you get settled."
The door closed behind her with a soft snick, leaving them alone.
Alone in a room facing the seductive, undulating waves of a sea that stretched out to infinity.
Alone in a room with a bed.
A big, wide bed covered in an inviting profusion of soft, thick pillows.
A bed large enough to get lost in, tangled together, hidden inside the drifting curtains . . . shadowed by nights that smelled of the ocean and sounded like the incoming tide.
They were alone.
Together.
In a room with a bed.
.
.
Judging by the number of alerts and favorites elicited by the first chapter, I've figured out the secret to writing Bones fanfiction - apparently, all you guys need is Booth, Brennan and the potential for sex. Duly noted. :-)