Spoilers: None...
Disclaimer: Whatever...
Author's Note: Italics are mostly thoughts, for those of you who haven't picked up on that yet...the rest are just emphases. This chapter is dedicated to the best friend and chef I know, Sangmo. She is also the most pedantic. But, I suppose what makes the best the best?
Brennan sat on the edge of the bath and listened to Booth talking. She couldn't tell who it was, but he spoke like it was a woman; she could hear the smile in his voice. That voice...Shut up, Brennan! Her thoughts were rapidly turning again to earlier that morning, the couch, the breath, the mouths; his mouth.
No! She shut her eyes tightly, trying to get the image out of her head. It didn't help. When she closed her eyes, things only became more vivid. She could almost taste his breath...
Shut. Up. She was doing it again. It wasn't like her to think about someone like this. David? That wasn't even worth comparing to this. Sully? Sometimes she had thought about him while they were dating, but not like this. Nowhere near this.
Instead, she mulled over what had just happened; it wasn't quite as distracting as her earlier thoughts. What did just happen? She honestly couldn't put a name to it. She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or aggravated by this thought.
Putting a name to it made it real, like it had happened, and wasn't just another one of her Booth dreams; she wasn't quite ready for that. But not being able to name it irked the scientist in her to no end. She briefly thought of asking Angela, but quickly tossed that idea away. No way was she going to do that. That was like being her own firing squad. But more painful.
No, she was on her own with this one. And by the amount of gratitude Booth seemed to be expressing to the probably-woman on the other end of the conversation, she decided he wasn't anywhere near helping her, either. Not that she would ask him.
As Brennan continued this somewhat safer train of thought, Booth hung up the phone. "Bones?!" He made his way to the bathroom, quickly poking his head in. "Angela got a hit! We need to meet her in half an hour!" He was excited about this. A break in this case was just what he wanted.
"Angela? When did you speak to Angela?" Brennan was confused. Why was he talking about Angela?
Booth gave her a funny look. "Just then, Bones." Slowly, like she was four years old. Or had the IQ of plankton. Oh...Then. Her brows knitted as she considered this.
Booth was already making his way to his bedroom, dragging the closet doors open. He hoped he had something clean. That reminded him that he hadn't showered, and that Bones was still sitting in his bathroom. Crap! He thought, running about, trying to find another towel.
He composed himself and walked calmly into the bathroom. Brennan was still sitting on the bath, frowning at something. "Bones." Once he got her attention, he threw a towel at her. She looked confused. "Shower. Towel. Clean." He pointed at the shower, then at the towel and then finally at her. She smiled at his childishness.
Booth turned around and shut the door deliberately behind him, playing the gentleman. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to join her, but he snapped this thought off nearly as soon at it had formed. Not now, Booth.
Once he heard the shower going, he headed towards the kitchen. He figured he may as well make them something to eat while he had nothing else to do. He knew Brennan didn't normally eat breakfast, and he wanted to make sure she did. At least while she was under his care.
He grinned at that. Under my care...She'd kill him if she heard him say that. But he liked the sound of it nonetheless. He searched through the fridge, reminding himself to go shopping soon.
While Booth threw together breakfast, Brennan stood under the hot shower. It felt good. Not as good as Boo-Shut up, Brennan! She snapped at herself, forcing her mind to other places. Work, the little boy, Parker, Booth, Booth's couch, Booth's lips, Booth's-
She shut off the shower. Hot water was not doing her any good at the moment. Drying herself and dressing quickly, she walked into the living room, placing her coat and over-shirt on the couch.
Booth looked up. His Bones was standing in front of him wearing the same dark corduroy pants she had been the day before, and a sea green t-shirt, wet hair curled flatteringly around her face. She looked damn good.
"Um, Booth, I think it's...burning..." She cocked an eyebrow at him. He turned around. Well, something's definitely burning. He wasn't sure whether it was the food, though.
"Oh, yeah, thanks," he stuttered. She didn't seem to notice anything odd about his demeanor. Thank God.
Brennan moved over to the bench to help him. "Hey, hey, hey, Bones, Bones!" He looked her in the eyes, pointing a finger an inch away from her nose. "No. My kitchen." She looked at him like he was nuts. Not many bachelors get territorial in their kitchens. Not many married men do, either, she thought sarcastically.
She was still smiling at her little joke when Booth flipped the food onto two plates skillfully, showing off. Brennan rolled her eyes, but she had to admit she was impressed. "Hope you like French toast!" he said proudly, giving her a charm smile that seemed even more charming than usual.
She just nodded dumbly and smiled. Stupid, Brennan. Stupid, she told herself. He couldn't have this much sway over her. It was impossible. Yet he did.
He gestured to the table, and they both sat down. He handed her a knife and fork, closing his eyes slightly when their hands touched. Fortunately for him, she didn't notice his little moment as she was doing the same thing, and would have had trouble seeing anything even if her eyes were open.
"Thank you," she said politely as she had in the bathroom earlier.
"You're welcome," he replied, smiling warmly. He meant it.
As they began eating, both had a feeling that this day's conversations were going to be rather repetitive.