Chapter 2: The Remedy for What Ails You

With a lot of effort, Brennan managed to get Booth into her apartment and onto the bed in her guest room. He lay fully dressed, sprawled on his back. If she left him like that, he'd wake up with a terrible hangover and feeling even worse having slept in his clothes. The last problem was easy enough to deal with. She took off his shoes and socks, undid his belt and pants and slid them off his legs. She knew from the time she'd had to collect evidence from his clothing that he wore boxers, for which she was grateful. She'd seen her partner naked on one occasion and that memory remained burned in her memory, even though she'd shrugged it off at the time. She didn't want more pictures that she'd have to forcibly forget.

Getting his shirt off was a bit more difficult but after some heaving and twisting she pulled the black cotton button-down off of his arms and out from under him. As he was lying on top of the comforter, she took another blanket out of the closet and covered him.

What to do about the hangover, though? She knew quite a few remedies from different cultures but found that the most accessible, and likely most acceptable to Booth would be a few aspirin and a large glass of water. Still, she couldn't resist adding some tried and true herbal curatives she had lying around.

Brennan changed into a t-shirt and yoga pants in anticipation of the physical exertion that would likely be involved in getting Booth to drink her concoction. After mixing everything in the water, she stood by the side of the bed and pondered how she was going to get the liquid into her partner. She decided that she needed leverage, so she started by jamming a second pillow under his neck. Once he was a bit more upright she sat by his side and slid an arm under his upper back. Pushing with that arm while pulling at his shoulder with the other arm, she managed to lever him into a sort of tilting upright position.

"Booth," she said, shaking him gently. "I need you to drink something and then you can go back to sleep."

"Nnnn," he groaned, which did not sound very cooperative.

She shook a bit harder and then slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Come on, wake up. You need to drink this or you will feel very badly tomorrow."

His eyes squinted open, but he didn't look at all aware of what was going on. Brennan tried to reach to pick up the glass off of the bedside table but she couldn't manage to twist that far without losing her grip on her partner.

She moved to shift her body behind his so that he would be sitting between her thighs and leaning against her while she was supported by the headboard. Once in this position, she stretched out her right arm and grabbed the glass. Slowly to avoid spilling, she curled her arm in front of his face and lifted the glass to his lips.

"Booth, drink." She spoke softly but forcefully. "Open your mouth." She pulled gently down on his chin with her free hand as she said this and his lips parted enough that she could tip some of the contents of the glass between them.

It was a slow painstaking process, but eventually she managed to get Booth to drink a significant percentage of the beverage. After replacing the glass on the nightstand, she wiped his face, neck and chest to dry off those places where the drink had spilled.

As hard as she tried to remain clinical about the process, the weight of Booth's warm body on hers, the feel of his skin as she mopped at his chest with the corner of blanket, all contributed to a predictable physical response. Her breath quickened and she felt waves of warmth flow through her.

With firm resolve, she began the process of sliding out from behind Booth while lowering him back into a comfortable position on the bed. She had just extricated her left leg from behind his back when Booth shifted to his right side, threw his left arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against him.

Stunned, Brennan lay still, pressed tightly against Booth. She was now mostly on her back. Booth's face was buried in the hollow between her right shoulder and her neck, the left half of his body on top of the right half of hers, his arm keeping her firmly in place. Fortunately, he wasn't crushing her with his weight as the portion of his body still on the bed, the right side, was bearing that.

Brennan chewed her lip and contemplated the situation. Booth had not completely passed out again, as he was making soft murmuring noises close to her ear. They sounded like the kind of noises he made when he ate a particularly good piece of pie. Contented, almost happy noises.

He had been so miserable tonight, the sounds seemed at odds with all that had gone before. Perhaps he was having a good dream.

About what? she wondered fleetingly. Hannah? Her? His favorite hockey team?

She knew she'd have to leave soon or else face a very awkward scene in the morning, but she didn't want to disturb these few moments of subconscious pleasure he seemed to be enjoying. She decided to wait until he quieted down again before extricating herself.

If she were to be honest, and she did always try to be honest, she was very much enjoying the feel of his large frame pressed against her, his bare chest so firm and warm. It had been quite a while since she'd been with a man.

And this wasn't just any man.

This was Booth, the man she loved.

She breathed in the masculine scent she knew so well, tinged as it was with the smell of the whiskey he'd been drinking tonight.

Just a few moments, she reminded herself. She reached over and turned off the bedside light, then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.