A/N: You all are basically the most awesome people in the universe. Thanks for your terrific response to this story, and for your well-wishes regarding the wedding and the wedding planning. If I could, I'd invite you all to sit in the special "Bones" section of the affair, and we could all eat and drink and dance and celebrate and alternate between squee-ing over the cuteness of B/B and the cuteness of me and my new (gasp) husband. Wouldn't that be fun?
Btw, not all of these little "could haves" will be smutty. I am capable of innocence sometimes, you know. Like, 10 percent of the time:)
Loves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes in life, events occur that are completely outside of one's control, and it seemed to Seeley Booth that there was little use in imagining what life would be like if those events hadn't occurred. It was an exercise in futility, really. Better to stay focused on the future, and dealing with the fallout of what actually did happen…no matter how attractive the alternative may have been.
But sometimes, when he let his guard down…the alternatives rose unbidden from his mind. And the way it could have been teased him with all its tantalizing possibilities.
There was one night…so very long ago…that he had been supposed to spend the night with Temperance Brennan. To protect her from what turned out to be a crooked cop, although he hadn't known that at the time. At the time, all he had known was that someone had committed the unspeakable act of shooting at his partner (while she had been about to commit the unspeakable act of having dinner with some jerk she had met on the internet). And, when he had received that particular news, he knew that he had felt like he was falling continually into some deep abyss, a sickening vertigo that had only lessened a bit upon seeing her alive and well in her lab, stubbornly resisting everyone's concern. As soon as he saw her there, he knew he had to spend the night with her. Otherwise, he wouldn't know where she was or whether she was safe…and he just couldn't deal with that feeling again.
And then he had gotten blown up. It was almost laughable now…she was going to let him spend the night, and she had relaxed with him, played with him, let him into her world. And that lasted for approximately 5 minutes before he managed to get himself blown up. Although he didn't regret it…if it hadn't been him that opened that rigged refrigerator door, it would have been her, and that would have been unacceptable.
But what could have happened if that bomb had never gone off? What if he had been allowed to spend the night without either of them getting blown to smithereens, held at gunpoint, or nearly getting fed to dogs?
He could see it…him returning from the (intact) fridge with his glass of juice in hand, Foreigner music playing just a little more quietly in the background. And, as usual, glancing up at him from the couch, she couldn't have been able to drop her curiosity, her incredulousness. "I don't understand why you are here," she'd say, studying him as if she were trying to get answers from one of her skeletons.
And he could have been honest. "Because I can't not be here."
"You could have called another agent to guard the place. From outside. Like…according to protocol."
Of course she would have known what protocol was. Him serving as her bodyguard, there in her apartment, was definitely not standard F.B.I. practice. He could have made up something about feeling responsible for her, as her partner…truthfully, that's probably what he would have said.
But. He could have said something different, as well.
"If I weren't here, I'd be crazy wondering if you were safe. And if I weren't here, I wouldn't be able to throw myself in front of the bullet if someone shot at you again."
He could see in his mind the confusion that would fill her lovely blue-gray eyes at his words. "But…why? Why would you do that?"
And he could have laughed ruefully as the God's honest truth fell from his lips. "Because…for reasons I couldn't explain if you tried to torture it out of me…there isn't a hell of a lot I wouldn't do for you, Bones."
Even in his wildest fantasies, Booth tried to maintain some grip on reality. And in this case…he knew the reality was that part of her would understand the context, and probably run, mumble something about needing to go to bed so she could work tomorrow before throwing a blanket and pillow at him and getting out of the room as fast as those gorgeous legs would take her.
But he could be patient. He could have stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and lay on couch, soft suede at his back with his hands clasped behind his head on the pillow, not sleeping, ears pricked for the sounds of intruders or the sounds of her sleeping or stirring or fretting. When she finally emerged more than three hours later, he could have been ready for her.
He could have barely seen her, lit only by the moonlight that shone like a halo around the edges of the closed blinds, but he'd move over as much as he could, pressing himself against the back of the couch so that she could sit in the spot where his waist narrowed before widening at his broad chest and muscular hips and legs. He could have waited until she was ready to say what she needed to say, fingers flexing behind his head with the want, the need to touch her.
"If I hadn't dropped my phone when I was shot at, I'd be dead now."
"I know," he could have said. He did know. It had been all he had been thinking about.
"I've been working so much so I didn't have to think about it."
"I know." And he had felt badly about taking her away from the thing that helped her forget, helped her cope. But he had to, for both of their sanities.
"I don't want to die. There is so much I still want…"
"I'm afraid, too."
He could have given her a few moments to process this. She wasn't used to people worrying about her. She wasn't used to them caring. She wasn't used to letting them. After these seconds ticked by, he could have lifted the edge of the blanket that covered him, that she gave to him. She'd likely have hesitated for a heartstopping moment before accepting his offer, sliding her soft, pajama-covered body under the cover and against him, head resting on his chest and tucked directly beneath his chin. Right then, he could have felt that awful plummeting feeling from earlier dissipating completely for the first time, slowly being replaced but a much more pleasant drifting sensation, like a leaf in autumn falling lazily to the ground. They could have been, for the first time, completely safe in one another's arms. He could have inhaled deeply and let all his senses be inundated by the feelings she stirred in him.
"Sleep, Bones." He could have smoothed back the silky strands of her hair that tumbled over her face and onto his chest, hand pausing at her ear to hold her head closer to his heart.
"I still don't know why," she'd have murmured, beginning the descent into sleep that she should have had hours, days ago.
And he could have mused aloud the first thought that came to his mind. "Because I think I'm falling in love with you."
She wouldn't have responded at first, wouldn't have moved, and he might have been half-relieved that she had fallen asleep before she heard his words. Then…
"Booth…" Barely audible.
"Shh. I'll kiss you in the morning." Before she drifted off, and he followed.
And in the morning…he could have.