A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 30
Disclaimer: The only way I'll ever own any of the characters would be to kidnap them...okay, not them but Booth. Now how does this tranquilizer gun work again? (wink)
Author's notes: Once again thank you to all of you who continue to read this story and a special thanks to those of you who continue to review and leave encouraging comments.
To goldpiece—Regardless of whether you receive help with writing your "M" rated scenes or not, your work is always enjoyable to read.
To jaed621—I managed to catch up on some of the stories on this site, including yours, and my dear, you could never disappoint with any of your fics! I always appreciate your insight and encouraging words. Thank you.
To Howdylynn—I always enjoy a "super-psyched" review! I know you must be enjoying the new season of BONES.
And to BonesDBchippie—Your reviews always manage to make me smile. As I've said before, anytime I can elicit laughter from you I feel that I've managed to write a successful chapter. And since you left such encouraging words for an "M" rated scene in your review…well, enjoy!
Okay everyone, please read, enjoy and really—feel free to leave a review.
And yes, there is an "M" rated scene in this chapter….you have been warned.
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She felt his eyes on her as she sat at her desk typing yet another report. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she heard him stealthy enter her office in a quiet attempt not to disturb her. He stopped when he spied her smiling at her monitor.
"You know I'm standing right behind you, don't you?"
"Yes. I also know you stood in the doorway watching me for five minutes before you attempted to sneak up on me." Brennan swiveled her chair so that she was facing him. "Didn't the Rangers teach a stealth mode class or something?"
"Funny Bones," Booth said as he leaned down, placing his hands on the arms of her chair and captured her lips with his.
Brennan's hands found their way to his chest and clutched at his dress shirt. Feeling a warm sticky wetness covering her palms, she removed her hands and broke their kiss.
"Booth," she whispered as she stared into his eyes and then dropped her gaze to her hands, covered with blood. Brennan's gaze flitted to Booth's chest and she saw the crimson liquid seeping through the material of his shirt. "Booth."
His eyes traveled down to his chest and he realized the source of her sudden concern. "That's not a good sign."
Brennan gasped as her eyes opened, her breathing labored. After a few moments her panic subsided and she realized that she was lying in her bed next to Booth. He lay on his left side with his face close to her neck and shoulder and his right arm draped across her abdomen.
She listened to him breathing for a moment, allowing his warm breath to tickle her neck. Brennan felt an overwhelming need to touch the man beside her to ensure that he was okay. She placed her left hand on his arm and moved it slowly up toward his shoulder, her fingers taking in his sinewy muscled arm.
"Booth," she whispered as she gently shook him.
"Hmmm?" He shifted slightly but didn't open his eyes.
Brennan's hand moved down to his chest and she gently pushed him until he rolled over on his back. She took the opportunity to examine his chest and then silently admonished herself. It was just a dream.
She braced herself with her right arm and traced the bruises on the left side of his face with her left index finger. Just a dream…he's fine…he's alive.
Her finger traced the outline of his full lips and then traveled down his chin to his neck, finally coming to rest on his broad chest.
"I ravage you all night and I wake up to find you molesting me," he teased as he slowly opened his eyes. Booth saw the serious look in her blue eyes and sensed that something was amiss. "Hey what's wrong?"
She leaned forward and gently placed her lips on his. "Nothing's wrong," she whispered before kissing him again. Booth moaned as her hand traveled down his chest and slid under the sheet.
"Temperance," he gasped against her mouth as she began to stroke him.
She moved above him and straddled his hips. His hands grasped her hips and he pulled himself into a sitting position. His mouth found hers as his hands journeyed from her hips up to her breasts. His hands kneaded the soft mounds as his thumbs and forefingers gently rolled the nipples. Her head fell back, exposing her neck, as she moaned. Booth kissed and licked his way down her neck to her breasts. Brennan's fingers ran through his hair as he took one nipple into his mouth and then moved to the other. Her left hand traveled down his chest and reached between them to stroke him again. She felt and heard him groan against her breast as she moved her hips and guided him inside her.
Staring into each other's eyes, the couple allowed the sensation of their union to wash over them. Brennan began to slowly move her hips, reveling in the feel of Booth inside her. His brown eyes took in the sight of her as he felt her heat surround him. Booth knew in that moment that he could never have enough of her. She had invaded every part of him—physically and emotionally.
Their breathing became erratic as her pace quickened. Booth helped guide her toward their mutual climax as his grip on her hips tightened. "Oh god yes," he whispered as he felt her constrict around him.
Collapsing against him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. Placing a quick kiss on her shoulder, Booth smiled. "You know Bones, maybe we should argue more often."
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She looked past him at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Three-thirty in the morning and she was wide awake. Propping herself with her right arm, Brennan turned and watched him sleep. A small smile played upon his lips and she wondered about the context of his dreams. Her own nightmare and their last round of lovemaking were keeping her awake.
Brennan had initiated the last bout of physical intimacy as a means to guarantee that Booth was indeed very much alive and still with her. As much as she loathed to admit it—even if it was just to herself—the nightmare had scared her to her very core. Guilt and fear washed over her again in a fresh wave. She had promised him that she would try to stop running from him…from her emotions concerning this new part of their relationship, but she felt herself panicking at times.
Generally the panic occurred when she allowed the thought of something happening to Booth, or the thought of Booth simply leaving her, to enter her genius mind. To Brennan neither one of those thoughts was illogical nor unreasonable. First, Booth had a dangerous unpredictable job where his safety was always on the line. And second, every other man she'd been with had taken their leave when they had finally grown tired of her and her resolve that work came first. Cold, distant, self-centered, uncaring—she'd had those words hurled at her on more than one occasion by ex-lovers during a break-up or fight.
As she continued to stare at her current amour sleeping soundly and peacefully next to her, Brennan felt a twinge of jealousy. She envied his absolute certainty of their relationship…of them. The only thing she knew for certain was that she'd never felt this way about another man before Booth. The idea of losing him hurt Brennan more than she cared to admit.
After placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, Brennan slowly moved to the edge of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She took a quick shower and then reentered the bedroom to dress. She pulled on a pair of old faded jeans and grabbed Booth's dress shirt, inhaling the scent of his cologne as she buttoned it. Smiling, she turned to look at him and shook her head. A year ago, if anyone had proposed the scenario that she currently found herself in, Brennan would have considered them crazy. Now who's the crazy person?
She padded down the hallway after quietly closing the bedroom door. Running her fingers through her wet hair, Brennan stepped into the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. She walked with the glass in her hand to her desk and pulled the files on Agent Andrews from her bag. Cullen had given them to her in the car on the way to the hospital.
She switched on the small desk lamp and sat down, opening the first file. The information was general and the investigator had made several indecipherable notes along the margins. As she neared the end of the file Brennan saw several surveillance photos of Andrews and another man. Perusing the information near the end of the file, dated just a few months ago, she saw the name Jared Piazza.
Her eyes returned to the photograph and she noted that Mr. Piazza's polished look did not match the typical stereotype of a mobster. He appeared to be well dressed in the photograph and looked like any other business man. An easy smile crossed his lips as the moment of greeting between the mob boss and the now deceased agent was caught on film—he looked like he was simply embracing an old friend. Dark hair, slight stubble on his face and a lack of gaudy jewelry completed Piazza's appearance. Brennan knew that if she had met him on the street, she would have found him attractive. Now, of course, knowing what he was and what he was capable of, she found him to be less than appealing.
Closing the file, she took a sip of the now lukewarm orange juice and grimaced. She set the glass aside and retrieved the second folder. Her eyes glanced over the financial records of the deceased agent, coming to a stop on a credit for one hundred thousand dollars two days before the bomb had been placed in her car. Brennan's jaw clenched as she recalled what little she could remember of the scene at the parking garage. That's what her life was worth? Booth's life? Not to mention the poor archeologist who did actually lose his life in the explosion.
Brennan rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. The syndicate and Piazza were obviously behind the car bomb but who the hell were the three people that attacked Booth? Her head began to ache as she pondered the possibilities.
She opened her eyes and flipped through a few more pages of Andrews' financial information. The name Michael Anthony Xavier, obviously an anagram for her father's first name—his real name—stood out on the page. Two point seven five million dollars had been transferred from one of Andrews' accounts into another one that Booth had advised could not currently be traced.
Brennan narrowed her eyes as her headache grew worse and she reached over to the lamp, switching it off. Sighing softly, she dropped her head to her desk as a weary feeling overcame her. I should go back to Booth, she thought as she closed her eyes, letting sleep take over.
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Angela rubbed her eyes as she sleepily shuffled down the hallway. She entered the kitchen area and yawned.
"I don't know about you but I thought I would have to leave a trail of bread crumbs in order to find the refrigerator in this place," Russ said from his position on a bar stool at the counter.
She chuckled slightly and ran her hand through her dark hair. "Yeah, I know. It took me five tries before I got here. That's the price you pay for living in a mansion, huh?"
"So exactly how rich is 'bug boy' anyway?"
"His family is extremely rich and don't call him 'bug boy'." Angela searched through the cabinets for coffee to place in the overpriced coffee machine sitting on the counter. "Oh thank god!" she exclaimed as she located a container of coffee grounds.
"How long have you and Jack been together?" Russ walked past her to the refrigerator to search for any food items that he might enjoy.
Angela's brow creased in confusion at Russ' question. "What are talking about? Jack and I are friends…good friends."
He grinned at her and shook his head. "Yeah, just like Tempe and Agent Booth were just good friends."
She rolled her eyes as she started the coffee maker. "Jack is an amazing person. He's really smart, funny…"
"Well I can see why you would be upset that I thought you two were dating," he replied dryly. "I just thought…I don't know. I thought the way you two were behaving at the lab and then you stayed here last night…"
"In a separate room," she quickly interjected. "Why should everyone else get to stay in a mansion but not me? Besides I promised your sister that I would personally see to your safety."
"Okay, what about the way you two act around each other at the lab? I was there for all of thirty seconds and I could see it."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Besides I generally don't converse with people until I've had my morning coffee."
"Oh thank god! Coffee!" Jack Hodgins entered the kitchen wearing only a pair of Sponge Bob pajama pants. He scratched at his beard as he looked at Russ and Angela. "You two couldn't find the coffee mugs could you?"
"We could barely find the kitchen," Russ replied cheekily as he watched Angela's eyes rake over Hodgins bare chest. "Right Ange?"
"Uh-uh," she replied, her eyes never leaving Hodgins who walked past her to retrieve several coffee mugs.
"Zach will be over soon. He's not allowed to use the coffee maker in his apartment since he almost burned the garage down a few months ago." He opened the refrigerator and removed a small container of soy milk. "Sweetener?"
Angela just stared at him. "Huh?"
"I know you like a small amount of soy milk in your coffee," he said, "but sometimes you also like some sweetener."
"Oh…not this morning, thank you." She turned to find Russ smiling at her and found herself glaring at him in return.
She wasn't ready to define whatever it was that was occurring between her and Hodgins. A part of her finally understood Brennan's concern of how a relationship in the office would affect work while the other part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and see what would happen. But it was Jack…Hodgins…bug and slime guy extraordinaire.
Hodgins handed her a cup of coffee, taking in her tousled black hair and sleepy eyes. She was decidedly cute in one of his tee shirts from an entomology conference and a pair of his shorts with the draw strings tied as tight as possible to keep the material on her slender frame. "Would, um, you like breakfast?"
"Are you making it or do you have a personal chef?" Russ smiled at the obviously enamored twosome.
"What? No, I like to cook my own meals…or at least order out." He smiled at Angela as she sipped her coffee. "So…is that a yes to breakfast?"
"Hmm…maybe some other time. We've got to get to the lab, remember? Plus I need to decide on a few more paintings for the exhibit tomorrow." She finished the remainder of the warm liquid and placed the mug on the counter. "I'm going to get ready."
"Okay." His bright blue eyes watched her exit the kitchen as he sipped his coffee.
"She's got an exhibit tomorrow?"
"Oh yeah man. Angela is a really talented artist. And smart—she's incredibly smart."
"Uh-huh, I noticed how much you two were appreciating each other's 'intelligence' a few moments ago." Russ smirked as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "By the way, nice touch walking in shirtless to get her attention."
Hodgins shook his head. "Dude, I sleep in the nude. I put on the pants because Angela stayed over…"
Russ quickly placed his mug on the counter and swallowed hard. "Ugh, let's forget about breakfast, okay?"
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Booth groaned slightly as a shooting pain crept up his back where the second assailant's punch landed. He stretched his right arm out and found Brennan's side of the bed empty. His brown eyes flew open at the realization that she was not next to him.
"Bones," he said, his voice gruff with sleep. He was sore and exhausted—she'd kept her word about keeping him up all night. The serious worried expression he'd seen on her face the last time she woke him up came back to him. While she had said that nothing was wrong, Booth knew her well enough to know differently.
Pushing the sheets to the side, he slowly moved from the bed over to the dresser and took a pair of boxers out of the top drawer. He slid the soft material up his legs and hips and then stretched his torso, working the kinks out of back and shoulders.
He opened the bedroom door and made his way down the hall. Booth walked into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw her sleeping at her desk. Tilting his head to one side, he studied her and wondered why she'd fallen asleep there. He quietly approached her and spied the files on Agent Andrews lying on the desk under her right hand. Michael Anthony Xavier's name was highlighted by her right index finger.
"Oh Temperance," he said softly. He reached out and brushed away a few errant strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek. She sighed softly and murmured his name.
She had let him in, allowed him to witness her vulnerability and allowed him access to emotions that she had buried deep long ago but Temperance Brennan was still holding back her feelings and thoughts about her father—her family. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. As he watched her sleep, Booth wondered if he would ever be able to break down all of her walls, especially when she insisted on building new ones.
Author's notes: Well, don't be afraid to let me know what you think—good, bad or indifferent. I can take it. (grabs a box of Kleenex just in case) I'll try to update again soon since the fog of writer's block has lifted slightly.