Sorry! I planned to get this up last Friday, which didn't happen because of my wrist getting injured (firstly) and then my eyesight being severely compromised (secondly).
This time when she awoke, a week later, Brennan felt a wave of satisfaction creep over her skin. She opened her eyes to Booth's dark bedroom; that same man was now protectively curled around her. She let herself simmer in her contented state for a moment before starting her day. Booth snored softly beside her; Brennan let the heat coming off of him sink into her own exposed body. She pressed her cold feet against his warm calves. He frowned and distanced himself slightly from her but didn't wake. Brennan grinned at her victory and, since liberated, slipped out of bed.
She made her way across the messy bedroom floor in the dark – his tie here, her nylons there – and so forth. When she had made it to the door silently – victory number two – she glanced back at her sleeping partner. Her eyes drifted from his messy hair to his peaceful, relaxed face and finally to the steady rise and fall of his muscular chest. Brennan's heart softened at the sight, and she exited the room, shutting the door without a hint of a sound.
Her purse was on the table at his entrance, in it she had put an extra pair of clothes. She replenished this every time she was at home and felt herself growing slightly more frantic each time she lost track of another shirt.
She changed and applied her makeup in his bathroom, and then hailed a cab to the lab. She immediately headed to the coffee machine, realizing as she grinded her teeth together that she hadn't brushed them this morning. She made a mental note to buy a second toothbrush as soon as possible.
The first sip of coffee was so delightful that she closed her eyes in bliss and subsequently did not notice Angela as her friend entered the room.
"You look like you want to inhale that coffee," the artist greeted. Brennan's eyes flew open and she acknowledged Angela with a smile.
"I'm exhausted," she admitted, taking another sip. Angela made her way to the refrigerator, smirking.
"Up with Booth all night?" She teased, pulling out the cream and shutting the door in time to see Brennan's blush.
The anthropologist could feel herself burning up. "No, that's not…" Upon the disbelieving cocked eyebrow she received, Brennan reformulated her sentence. "All right," she relented. "He's pretty good. Amazing, actually." She winked. Angela grinned.
"So why are you up so early?" Brennan diverted the attention from herself. Angela's grin faded, her eyes grew tired.
"Michael Vincent refuses to sleep through the night. I eventually just decided to come in early and left Hodgins up to his own defenses."
Brennan's interest grew. One day soon, that'll be me and Booth. The thought sent waves of excitement and nervousness through her being. Of course, Angela didn't know about the baby yet, and the artist remained the only one to know about the relationship.
"Do you have anything for me?" Angela brought Brennan back from her thoughts, referring to the current case.
"We know her name was Maria Ditcofsky from dental records." Their latest victim had been found in the dumpster of an alley in Georgetown. She had been killed less than 48 hours before arriving at the lab yesterday. So far Brennan had found trauma to the temple, which was most likely cause of death. Booth was to inform the relatives today. "Can you hack into her cell phone? It was found on her, it should provide to be useful." Angela nodded and left; Brennan then finished her lavished coffee and got to work, too.
She was examining the clavicle when a disgruntled Booth came in.
"Bones!" He exclaimed. Only Brennan's eyes moved, and the rest of her remained completely immobile. She lost interest in the agent and continued to examine the clavicle.
Booth raised his eyebrows and put one hand on his hips.
"I get the impression you're upset." Brennan stated as she gently replaced the bone and picked up the skull.
"Yeah, just a little!"
She still didn't look at him. "I am confused as to what is the cause."
Booth stared at her. "Oh, I don't know, how about waking up to your girlfriend absent without a note or any indication as to where she had gone."
She finally glanced over at him. "I figured you'd think I was at the lab, which is reasonable since it's nine in the morning on a Tuesday."
Booth sighed. "Still, Bones, you should at least write a note."
"Why?"
"So I don't start all my days scared to death, not knowing where you are and having no indication that you were even there."
"I was clearly-" Booth cut her off with one tilted eyebrow. Brennan shifted her weight.
"Fine. I will make sure to let you know. But I obviously wasn't leaving; I still have numerous items at your apartment. My cell is on, too."
Booth stepped closer, studying her lips. "I know, I just get concerned sometimes, after Broadsky, and now with…" He trailed off, placing his hands on her hips so that his palms rested on her belly.
Brennan shivered, unsure if it was because of his words or his touch or both. His lips were tantalizingly close; before she knew it she was leaning in. She immediately put her hands on his chest and stepped away. They had made a mutual agreement to not act like a couple at work.
"It would also be nice if you made coffee," Booth whined. "And if you weren't always gone before I wake up. It would be nice to have you next to me in bed in the morning."
Brennan glanced around; no one was near. She flashed him a warning with her eyes before grinning.
"But then we'd never get up."
He smiled back and before she could do anything, he had her in his arms and placed a slow kiss on her lips. She relaxed; felt herself melting in his arms as she did every time. She allowed the kiss to go on for a few seconds before pulling away.
"No, we really need to work," she said matter-of-factly, staring up at the innocent brown eyes. She adjusted his collar and he didn't resist when she stepped away and turned to the bones.
Booth remained in place but followed her gaze. "As I told you before," she started, "there is an obvious penetrating trauma to the temporal bone. Angela suggested something about a half of an inch by seven eights of an inch for the murder weapon. After my own analysis, I agree."
"Probable cause of death, then?"
"I would say yes, probable cause of death, as I have found nothing to contradict that, save some post-mortem fracturing."
Booth was about to say something when Angela walked in; a glance was shared in between the two friends, and Booth greeted Angela rather awkwardly. The artist smiled to herself – they were too cute.
"I have something for you. As I was going through her phone, I found the following outgoing text: 'That's right bitch, I'm doing with Brian what I never could have done with your sorry little ass'." Angela raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like an ex-boyfriend situation if I've ever heard of one. It was sent to an Alex Miele."
"Thanks," Booth said, and Angela nodded and left. Brennan turned to him.
"You talked to the fiancé?"
"Yeah, he was devastated. Sweets agrees; there's no way it's him."
"I take your word for it."
They both paused, and Booth's face lit up. "How about some lunch, and then we go talk to this Alex Miele?"
Brennan smiled, and Booth offered his arm.
Across the hallway in her own office, where she could see them, Angela grinned.
At the diner, Booth and Brennan took their regular table. They talked their regular too – casework, casework, and more casework.
"Sweets profiled our victim; she's apparently our typical ditz, for lack of a better word."
"What makes him say that?"
Booth shrugged. "Who knows, ask him. But I agree, from questioning the fiancé, they seem to want this unrealistic, dramatic lifestyle."
"I don't know what that means."
He sighed, "I mean their lifestyles don't really have any purpose besides getting on top of the latest trend and gossiping about what happened at the last party."
Brennan nodded slowly. "Alright. I think I get it. So we're off to look up this Alex Miele guy?"
"Yeah. He has a history, too, nothing all that major, though – shoplifting, threats…"
"Sounds like a pleasant guy."
Booth smiled at her. "Yeah, and maybe he'll get to add murder onto that pretty little list. Ready to go?"
She nodded. They paid and left. At the car, Booth halted Brennan. As always, she went rigid under his careful touch; her breathing hitched as she realized the closeness of his face to hers. Tentatively, she looked up at those warm brown eyes.
"You coming over tonight?" He asked quietly. She swallowed and nodded. She could feel his negativity as he let go and stepped around to the other side.
"Is something wrong?" She asked as they pulled away from the curb. Booth shook his head, but after a moment he spoke.
"It's just I feel it's always me coming after you." Brennan was confused, and stared at him so. This irritated him slightly.
"Since we've been together, you haven't invited me over, or called me to go out. You always seem so surprised when I do; I'm starting to get the impression that I'm annoying you."
She blinked. "What? No! You know that's not true! And you've been over!"
"Yes, when I show up at your door and you invite me in."
Brennan sat back. "You don't annoy me. I like you very much!"
Booth's eyes, though still on the road, softened, as did his voice. "I know, Bones, but you need to show it."
She frowned, deep in thought. Why did she get so flustered when he touched her, so choked up when they were close? It was Booth, the same Booth; the Booth that had been right next to her for years. She would prove herself to him, because not having him where he had always been was not an option.
This Alex Miele had an alibi – he'd been at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. "Otherwise, he would've been my guess," Booth had said on the subject. But Miele's alibi was foolproof for the time of the murder, which Hodgins had narrowed down to within a span of hours. Miele had given them a lead, though – a certain Josephine Rosenthal. Booth and Brennan tidied up at their respective workplaces and went home to Booth's apartment. There, they ordered in Chinese and ate it while discussing the case and watching hockey, later on, they left the game and food and made a hasty retreat to the bedroom. After they had made love, Brennan felt contented in Booth's arms, to a certain point. It was only after he drifted off that she could put her finger on what was wrong – she still hadn't proved her affection towards him, and she had the not-so-crazy notion it would take something more than unbelievably good sex.
The next morning, when Booth woke up, there was coffee on the counter and a note on the table. Brennan was at work; this didn't surprise him. He retrieved his cell and dialed.
"Brennan."
"Hey, Bones. I was going to question this Josephine Rosenthal, would you like to come along? I'll pick you up in a half hour."
"Okay, I'll be here."
"Oh, and thanks for the coffee."
Booth was true to his word, and half an hour later Brennan crawled into the van. Rosenthal lived in Georgetown, and the traffic to get there wasn't so bad that particular morning.
"Josephine Rosenthal?" Booth asked the woman of small stature as she opened the door.
"Call me Jo, please. What would you like?"
"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this here is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan." Booth flashed his badge. Jo stepped aside to let them enter the townhouse.
She was a small girl, with a head of soft auburn hair and perky green eyes.
"What happened?" She asked, gesturing for them to sit down.
"Maria Ditcofsky was found murdered a few nights ago," Brennan blurted.
Booth shot her a glance. "I'm sorry," he said gently, "I understand you two were friends?"
Jo clasped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes flashed at his last words. Booth noticed.
"Well, she was, before she turned into a sniveling bitch."
"Whoa, okay. What happened?" Booth asked as Jo watched Brennan, who apparently grew bored and started wandering around the room – Booth knew what she was looking for.
"We were very close before. I told Mer, that's what I call – er, called – her, everything. I had hooked up with this guy –" When Booth raised an eyebrow, she added in some details. "- Named Zach Potvin. It was a big mistake, and I ended up getting pregnant from that lame one-night stand. Mer was the only one who knew, and then I got an abortion. When I had hooked up with Alex just after Mer broke up with him, she went insanely mad and told everyone. So, no, we are not friends – er, were – not friends."
Booth and Brennan shared a look. "So you didn't like her?"
Jo snorted. "Would you?" She then realized what his sounded like and quickly added, "But I didn't kill her."
"Give me one good reason to believe you."
Jo paled, but before she had the chance to reply, Brennan called out.
"Yeah?" Booth answered his partner.
"The high heels of these whose are perfect for the murder weapon." Brennan returned to his side, staring at Jo.
"You have no right!"
"Oh, but we will. Have a nice day, Miss Rosenthal." He gave her a shiny smile and left with Brennan in tow.
"Someone has relationship issues…" He muttered.
Outside, he stepped into place beside Brennan. He slipped his hand around hers. "Good job," he whispered.
Brennan, startled by the touch, glanced down hesitantly at their joined hands. She concluded, though, that it felt nice and allowed him to hold her hand until it was necessary for them to let go.
Booth had no trouble getting the warrant and soon the FBI forensics team was busy recovering each pair of shoes and checking for blood. As this happened, Booth and Brennan went for an early lunch and enjoyed some afternoon delight. They were in the act of getting dressed when Cam called.
"Brennan."
"It's Cam. Is Booth with you?"
"Yeah," she glanced at him, who raised an eyebrow while pulling on his pants. "I'll put you on speakerphone."
"Every single one of Rosenthal's shoes was clean and accounted for. It wasn't her."
"Then we're nowhere," Booth said, putting on his belt.
"Not true. Angela found the following message on the victim's phone." Cam clicked a button, and a recording came through the line. "'You better back off, it's mine.'"
"I stand corrected."
"What is the object they are talking about?" Brennan asked.
"No idea – Sweets is calling in the sender, a Zoe Selleck, to FBI headquarters now."
"Thanks, Cam." Brennan flipped shut the phone; Booth looking at her expectantly. "Let's go."
Sweets was waiting for them. "The FBI team got a hold of Selleck's apartment; Hodgins just called, Ditcofsky's blood was on one of them."
"So it's her?"
"We just need a confession. Hopefully she doesn't ask for a lawyer," Sweets confirmed.
"Thanks," Booth said, gesturing for Brennan and Sweets to listen in the adjoining room. They watched as Booth entered and sat in front of Zoe Selleck, not speaking.
Brennan studied the perpetrator –long blond hair, silver earrings. She seemed nervous.
"Why am I here?"
"I'm sure you know," Booth leaned back. Selleck stayed quiet. He pulled out the high heel shoe; the woman cringed.
"You recognize the weapon you used to kill Maria Ditcofsky, don't you?"
Defiance flashed through her eyes. "I didn't- "
He put the shoe forcefully down on the table, causing Selleck to jump. "Aw, cut the bullshit. I have a team compiling evidence against you as we speak."
She swallowed.
"Why'd you do it?"
She hesitated.
"Just tell me, it's already over."
Zoe crossed her arms. "She stole the engagement ring I wanted. It was so pretty, you don't even understand!" She whined. "She came over, and we got drunk, and I thought I would pay her back by giving her a black eye for her wedding day."
"But you missed and hit her temple, killing her instead."
"I was scared. Me and Joey – my fiancé – brought her outside and put her in the dumpster. It was an accident!"
"Putting her in a dumpster and not calling 911 was an accident?" Disgust was clear in his voice. "I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Maria Ditcofsky…" He cuffed her, looking at Brennan through the glass, rolling his eyes. Though Booth couldn't see her, he could imagine her nod.
Sweets turned to Brennan. "I'll get this Joey guy; you can call it a day."
"Thank you," Brennan said, exhaustion clear in her voice – sleep still wasn't coming easily.
She went home and showered, and then called Booth.
"Did you get him?"
"Yeah, we did. You alright? You sound exhausted."
"I am, but I'm fine." She paused. "Would you like to meet me at the diner in ten?"
"Bones, you need sleep…"
"Please?" She pressed.
"Okay. This one time." She could almost hear his smile.
Brennan was waiting for Booth, shifting nervously. She relaxed as soon as he appeared though, straightened, and smiled.
He saw her and his face lit up, sliding into the seat facing her. She watched as he picked up the menu; she reached over and gently pushed it down with a finger.
"I already ordered," she tried her best seductive look. Booth raised an eyebrow. Her efforts failed and it turned into a childish grin.
They discussed the case for a bit.
"I find their life unhealthy and depressing," Brennan said.
"Very materialistic," Booth agreed."Not a lot of importance or purpose."
Their order arrived; the waiter put down a sole sundae with two spoons. Brennan watched Booth's reaction anxiously. He grinned at her, taking a spoonful.
"You," he watched her lick the ice cream off his spoon, "Never fail to surprise me."
"So, this is good?" She asked, hopeful. He responded with his lips on hers, and Brennan felt delighted. She had gotten it right – she had proved her affection. She kissed back hungrily, gripping his collar and pulling him closer.
"I know why I'm always so flustered around you," She breathed into his mouth. "I know why I act like I do. Because you're too damn delicious."
"Can we get this to go?" Booth's voice had gone down an octave and sounded strained.
She grinned in reply.