A/N: Happy Bonesday all! Here is a present to celebrate.
Lots of stuff going on right now; sadly very little of it fic-related…but will try to bring you new installments of this little family drama on a semi-regular basis.
Am running out of ways to say THANK YOU to my number 1 gal for this story nicolemack, but she'll just have to deal w/my repetition. Thanks, babes. Loves.
--
He ended up waiting for Bones in the morning, although she was the one who'd requested to leave early. It was annoying because he could have used that extra half-hour to sleep; after all, it was her fault he slept so poorly.
After she'd disappeared back into her room, he'd spent some time considering their conversation and her admission before actually going to bed. It was only when he resigned himself to sleep and the room was dark that he realized something; the door between their rooms was open. Just an inch, but she hadn't pulled it shut the whole way. A slice of light shone through for several minutes, and then extinguished, signifying that she'd likely finished her nighttime routine and laid down to sleep herself.
For some reason, that open door drove him positively crazy. Surely it hadn't been a mistake; she'd intended to give up that inch of privacy, take away just a little of the barrier that still stood between them. Or…he was wrong, and she just hadn't pulled hard enough, indeed had no idea that she had done so. In either case, he stared through the dark at it for at least an hour before exhaustion pulled him to sleep.
He dreamt then of rising from his bed and crossing that open door, watching it fall easily and silently open with a slight push. She was lying in her bed, sleeping peacefully and looking much smaller than when she was awake with her perfect posture and carriage. It felt like the most natural thing in the universe to crawl under the covers with her, pulling her snug against his chest while she stirred and murmured her welcome.
"Bones," he whispered, brushing his lips against the velvet of her cheek as her sleep-warmed body melded to his. "I'm not a hundred percent perfect. Not even close. But I'm a hundred percent yours."
She smiled at him, the slow, brilliant, sexy kind that never failed to make his heart pound. "That's all I need," she whispered back.
He beamed back, her words releasing the vise gripping at his heart. He kissed her, and she responded in kind, sweetly and deeply. They traded these slow, languorous kisses for an eternity, him enjoying the feel of her, loving the touch of her, knowing that they had all the time in the world…
The alarm went off before he even had her clothes off.
"Jesus," he'd moaned, fumbling for the lamp. It was still dark, and he felt like he'd had no sleep at all. When he stood, it was his enormous erection leading the way to the bathroom. "I don't even know how to have a fucking wet dream right."
"Did you say something?" she called from the other room. Of course she was awake already. He reeled into the bathroom before she could come and check on him. The last thing he needed was for her to see him in this state. She'd be educating him about nocturnal erections the whole way home.
By the time he was done in the shower and dressed, he'd heard her talking quietly on the phone, and resigned himself to waiting for her. As he always did.
--
"I called Gabrielle," she said quietly as she drove. "I wanted to apologize to her."
"You guys buds again?" he asked carefully. He knew full well that Bones was conflicted about her actions yesterday; while she wasn't proud of them, apologizing for them was probably a step further than she'd prefer to take. Bones never hit people unless she thought they deserved it.
"Yes. I believe so. She was very understanding." She didn't elaborate, but glanced over at him. "How about you? Are you and she going to be 'buds'?" The worded sounded funny coming from her usually-scientific lips.
"I don't know what we're going to be, Bones." He knew that he was honest in his promise to keep in contact with Gabby, and not much beyond that.
"Does that bother you?" she asked. Now, she was staring straight ahead to the road, but he felt that it was almost an effort for her to keep doing so. "Not knowing what you're going to be?"
Sometimes, despite her tendencies toward being overly literal, he could swear that she wasn't talking about anybody else but the two of them. He wouldn't let her get away with it. "I think you know the answer to that."
That silenced her; an almost chastised expression took residence on her face, and the ride was quiet for another good twenty minutes. In that time, he snuck glances at her.
She surprised him, even when she shouldn't. He knew that her beautiful face and slender body belied her strength and feisty nature, but when those parts of her were revealed, he always still had a moment of shock and awe. Imagining his father's flabbergasted expression when she responded to his friendly greeting with a fist to the jaw…he didn't know whether to groan, or chuckle.
The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to ask them.
"How did he look?"
Her head swiveled in surprise, both at the sound of his voice after the long silence, and at the question. "Your father?"
Realizing what he asked, his mind frantically backtracked. Jesus. Why had he asked? Why did he care? "I…you just…never mind, Bones."
She stared for as long as she dared before turning her attention back to the highway. The silence that fell between them was tenser than before, and he could feel her struggle over and above his own. Finally, she gave up.
"He looked…completely normal. Healthy. Happy." She spoke the words quietly. "Until…you know."
Although he had told her to forget the question, he wasn't upset at her for answering. The person she described was the man in the picture with Gabrielle. A man who he'd met long ago, but didn't actually know.
"Booth? Are you okay?" She sounded concerned, and he got the reason. He'd been so very touchy about this subject, and now, he'd expressed interest in it…and he didn't even quite know why.
"Yeah." He gave her a strained smile. "The whole family thing…you know…old habits die hard." In his pocket, he gave his poker chip a squeeze, reminding himself that the consequences of old habits weren't something he wanted to deal with. Not now, not ever.
--
The next weeks passed with changes; but those changes felt strangely banal, not disconcerting or upsetting or odd in the least. He called Gabby every Tuesday night. He didn't know why he chose Tuesday; maybe after the first time, it became a comforting habit. Settling into his overstuffed armchair, he'd mute whatever comedy show was on TV and dial her…number 6 on his speed-dial. He'd always start the conversation the same way.
"What's shakin', Gabster?"
He could hear her smile over the phone, somehow, and it pleased him.
She told him about school and her activities, every event seeming to have the dire importance only a college student could muster. She was having struggles with the new editor of the literary journal (Von's graduation from the position had struck her as a particularly difficult change), and asked his advice.
"The articles I submit are tons better than the sophomore drivel they usually publish, but she picks them apart like I'm new at this. She has this air about her like she thinks I was published so often before because of nepotism, but that's crap."
"Don't worry about her 'air'," he told her. "Take it as a challenge to do better, be better. You can't make people give up their biases, Gabs. You can't cry when things are harder than they should be. All you can do is prove not just that you're good, but that you're great."
She listened to him, and seemed to really consider it.
Another time, they talked about Bones.
"I'm impressed by her," Gabrielle told him. "She's kind of nuts. But amazing. She does everything full throttle, huh?"
"That's Bones," he agreed, with affection.
"Sooo…what's the deal with the two of you? Will you get in trouble if the FBI knows you're together? Or what?"
He blinked warily. This conversation always came at some point between him and his family members, but it never made it less uncomfortable.
"We aren't together. Not like that."
He could see Gabrielle's suspicious squint in his mind's eye just as clear as if she were there, and her voice told him she very much thought he was playing a practical joke on her. "Bull crap."
"I wouldn't crap you, Gabs. We're friends."
"Von says that a man wouldn't be friends with a woman he wouldn't sleep with in the right circumstance," she said firmly.
That startled him. "That's a very pessimistic view of men, and it's not…" He paused, considering his list of female friends, and realized there wasn't any he could use to defend the untruth of the statement. "It's not nice," he ended lamely, which made her giggle.
"So when you're together, will you get in trouble with the FBI?"
"You're not allowed to ask me any more questions tonight."
She laughed.
Another night, she sounded more subdued, and he asked her what was wrong.
There was a hesitation before she answered. "I'm alright."
He pulled out her line. "Bull crap."
Still, it took a little bit of small talk to get her into the comfortable zone where he might touch on the real problem.
"Wedding stuff is sort of stressing me out."
"Wedding stuff, huh?"
More hesitation, then the truth. "Well, marriage stuff, more like it. I guess. It's a couple months away, and I'm realizing more and more that I barely know anything about the real world, let alone marriage. Do you think it's that much different from living together?"
"The unmarried guy probably isn't the one to ask."
There was a moment of depressed silence, and he felt bad about not having an answer for her.
"What if I'm no good at being a wife?" she asked quietly. "I'm sort of messy around the house, cooking's not really my thing, I'm a little impatient. It hasn't been such a big deal, with both of us being in school and having different schedules. But what if everything changes once we both have jobs, bills, all the mundane responsibilities…what if…?"
"You will still be the same person," he interrupted firmly. "You love hard, Gabs, and you mean well. Every new role you take on, you'll put your whole heart into, and that's what kind of wife you'll be. I'm not worried about you."
"I'm glad somebody's not," she replied self-deprecatingly, but he knew his words meant something to her.
As he learned more about her, he naturally started to talk about her more in casual conversation. He got looks of surprise often, and lost count of the number of times people said "I didn't even know you had a sister." With no desire or need to explain the complicated circumstances behind their familial bond, he'd simply answer, "Well, I do."
They talked about almost everything. But not about her father. Their father. Booth could feel every time the conversation veered disturbingly close… "I went home this weekend…Mom took me shopping…we had a really nice dinner…" But Gabrielle never went over that line, and he was grateful. Getting to know her was something special in his life, whether he wanted it to be or not; but it remained in the back of his mind where she came from, and where he wished he hadn't come from, and if she reminded him of that too much their Tuesday-night phone calls might not seem nearly as pleasurable.
Maybe he wouldn't make them at all.
But for now, he looked forward to their time talking, enjoying the mentoring and her sweet, funny, and youthful perspective on the things in his life.
Because she was his sister. And no matter what anyone else thought, she was special.
--
In the midst of the weeks of phone calls with his ever-less mysterious sibling, he and Bones got a case, which meant more time at the Jeffersonian and thankfully, less time to think.
That was, until Max cornered him one day as he left the building.
"Can I talk to you, son?" Brennan's father had just finished with his famous carbon-balloon-inflation experiment; the kids were gone, the lab emptying out.
It always made him smirk when Max "sonned" him. The older man had never been explicit about it, but Booth was sure that someday, when they told Max that they were together (because surely, that day was inevitable, had to be), he'd smile the smile of a man who got exactly what he wanted.
It was one of the reasons he liked him.
Max motioned for Booth to join him in the abandoned science area, which was now littered with the remnants of the experiment of the day…straws, baking soda, lemon juice, plastic bottles.
"What can I do for you, Max?" he asked him curiously, almost expecting one of his "are you sleeping with my daughter?" speeches.
The man smiled at him, busying himself with tossing the trash piece-by-piece into the nearby garbage can. "Is Tempe okay?" he asked him, concern in his voice.
Booth blinked. "Um. Yeah. As far as I know."
"Hmm." Max's eyes went downcast. "She'd probably tell you first, I'd think."
He sighed. "What's the problem?"
Brennan's father's face lit up, and Booth knew he'd just been itching for him to ask that very question.
"We had that little blip the other month…you know, when she met Janine. But I thought we'd moved past that. She's a reasonable girl. But she's been…just distant lately, and I don't know what to do about it."
For some reason, this irritated him. "Have you tried talking to her?"
"Of course, but you know my daughter. The 'I'm fine' bit."
Booth remembered their conversation in the hotel on the night they delivered Gabby home. It didn't come as a surprise that Bones was remembering it too…the lingering feelings of resentment and hurt towards her parents, that contributed to her impromptu blow against his own father. "Well I guess you'll just have to be patient until she's ready to talk about it." He couldn't seem to help the fact that voice carried a hint of brusqueness. He was getting testy, and needed to get out of here.
Max looked troubled. "Maybe…you could talk to her? She listens to you. You can help her."
That little extra pushing set him off, and he snapped back on a surprised Max Keenan. "You want me to talk her into being more lovey-dovey with you to make you feel better."
"Uh…no, that's not…"
"That's exactly it, Max. You want her to laugh and joke with you and call you Daddy so you don't have to think about how much you royally screwed her over when she was too young to do anything about it."
"Son, I don't think…"
"You know what? You should just sit back and thank your lucky stars every day that Bones wants to talk to you at all. That her heart was big enough to let you back in after everything that went down."
The older man finally seemed to make it past his surprise, and into humble. "I do," he replied quietly. "Every day."
Still, whatever was driving his tirade hadn't quite wound down yet. "You want Bones to talk to you? Be honest with you? Maybe you should try apologizing to her again. This time, without all the excuses and the air of deserving a relationship with her. Because you don't deserve a daughter like her, Max. And if you ever want to, you need to fucking work harder, and not pawn this crap off on me."
Finally exhausted of the spontaneous burst of aggression, he turned and stalked away, muttering and earning strange looks from the squints he passed.
Now he and Bones were even, even if no punches were thrown this time.
Which sucked, because now he couldn't even pretend to be the bigger person.
Pounding through the parking garage all the way to his car, he climbed in and slammed the door behind him. Shit. He definitely should not have lost his temper like that with Bones' old man. Despite whatever other complicated feelings she had, she loved the guy. And now he was probably going to be in deep shit with both of them.
His cell rung in his pocket, and he cursed the timing of whoever was on the other end. Digging it out, he answered roughly with "What??"
The man on the other end seemed taken aback. "Agent Booth? This is Captain Behrens from Metro…this a bad time?"
Taking a deep breath, he reined in his irritation. He'd been in touch with Behrens the last six weeks. Hounding him, really. It would be rude to ignore him now. "No. Sorry. What's going on?"
"We got a hit on your ring. Pretty sure it's your girl's…you can come down and check it out at your convenience."
He perked up immediately. "Really. Where did you find it?"
"Pawn shop on Liberty. We took it, tagged it, catalogued it. I know you wanted to know as soon as we had a lead, so…"
"I'll be there in fifteen," he interrupted, starting the car and looking over his shoulder to pull out of the spot.
"There's no rush…" Behrens started, but Booth was already aiming his vehicle toward the west exit…straight toward Metro.
"It's already been too long," he declared. "Thanks, Captain."
Hanging up, he sped out onto the road as fast as he dared.
He felt better already.
--
Later in the evening, he reclined on his couch; the television was on, but he wasn't really paying attention, instead playing with the tiny piece of jewelry he'd procured today. Twisting and turning it thoughtfully, he tried to make it catch the light and reflect in prismatic glory against the walls.
Behrens had been reluctant to hand it over completely; usually they retained pieces like that for a few months until they had amassed considerable evidence against the guilty party. But it had already been processed, and this particular guilty party was already in big trouble (Gabrielle's ring was one of sixty-three pieces recovered in the past week, from the same suspected culprit), so a little prodding had got the ring back in Booth's hands. He'd stay involved on the case, pushing for the maximum penalty for the guy responsible for this. Because that's what the dick deserved, for scaring Gabby.
He slipped the tiny silver band on his pinky finger, where it caught on his knuckle. Damn, it was tiny. How long had it been since he held an engagement ring? After his unplanned proposal to Rebecca was decidedly unsuccessful, he'd spent the rest of her pregnancy trying to convince her marriage was a good idea. He'd got her a ring then…not much bigger than this one, because at that point he was still repaying his gambling debts…and presented it to her, figuring she'd have a much harder time saying no with a diamond in front of her.
He had been wrong.
If he ever bought a ring again, it would certainly be more impressive than that one, and more so than the one in front of him now. But this one had a meaning that couldn't be measured in carets, so he held tight to it as he grabbed his phone with his other hand and dialed Gabby's number.
It was Thursday, and he knew for a fact that she had band practice late into the evening, so it didn't surprise him when he was sent to her voice mail. "What's shakin', Gabster? I know it's not our usual night, but…" He held up the tiny pear-shaped sparkler and examined it again. "I think I might have something of yours, that you'll sort of maybe want back. Give me a call tomorrow, 'kay?"
Hanging up, he put down the phone, and carefully returned the ring to the tiny plastic bag in which it was given to him. Relaxing back into the cushions, he found himself imagining her expression when she listened to the message. She'd know immediately what he was talking about. And she'd smile for the rest of the night.
As he fell asleep to the ignored sound of the TV, he was smiling too.
--
Bones came to his office the next day.
He'd been in a good mood, looking forward to talking to Gabrielle and returning what had been taken from her the last time she was here. Normally a visit from Bones would cheer him even more, but…
The instant he saw her, he cringed instantly. Shit, shit, shit. She was going to bitch at him for his harsh words to Max, he knew it.
He shouldn't have done it. Max had only been asking for help with his relationship with his daughter, and Booth could have dismissed him without angry words. Now Bones was going to give him the "I can take care of myself" speech for the thousandth time.
"Hey there, partner. To what to I owe the pleasure?" he asked, wincing even as the words came out.
"Just wanted to see you."
Bones never just wanted to see him, and he knew it.
She glanced carefully around his office. "What's going on?"
"I found Gabs' ring," he told her, wanting to share that bit of good news before the shitstorm hit.
"Really? That's wonderful!" She seemed genuinely enthused.
"It is. I'm just waiting for her to tell me how to get it back to her. She's gonna be so pumped."
Her eyebrows furrowed at "pumped," but she didn't respond with her trademark confused phrase. There was silence for a moment, and he wished she'd just start laying into him because waiting for it was worse than dealing with it. He decided to just beat her to the punch.
"So…you talk to your Dad lately?" It was about as subtle as a brick to the head. Look at him, taking lessons from Bones.
"Yes," she said, nodding. Nothing more.
He sighed. "And…did he tell you about our conversation?"
"No."
Well, that one he didn't expect. "Oh…" Then what was she here for…?
"But Angela told me about it. She overheard and saw you leaving the lab yesterday."
Oh, there we go. Taking a deep breath, he stood up from his desk and circled it, wanting to apologize to her face. Max might have deserved the sentiment, but Bones shouldn't have to deal with her partner losing his shit on the man she was trying to have a decent relationship with. "He just caught me at a bad time, Bones. I promise I won't…"
Before he could finish, her arms were around him, her face buried into his shoulder.
"Whoa." Even though he was reeling from the surprise gesture of affection, his arms automatically circled her, wrapping around her back and holding her tightly. "What's this for?"
Her voice was muffled against his shirt. "I don't know."
He blinked. It was hard to think clearly with her body pressed against him. "You…approve?"
"No." She turned her head so she'd be clearer, the movement dragging her silky hair across his cheek and nearly making him swoon with the sweet, clean scent. "But…" she hesitated. "I'm irrationally happy that you care so much."
"Awh, Bones." She hadn't yet made a move to pull back from the embrace, and hell if he was going to encourage such a movement. He rubbed her back gently, resisting the urge to cup the back of her head and stroke her hair. "I understand that."
He understood it because he'd felt it too, the minute Gabby had told him about his partner's swift yet explosive outburst against his own father. They really were even.
Bones backed off, just a little, her hands still resting on his arms and his on her waist. He'd be damned if he let go before she did. She gave him a tentative and slightly embarrassed smile…the one she used whenever she had to admit to irrationality.
"Of course I care," he soothed, returning the smile and filling with warmth. Yes…he wanted her to know what it felt like to have someone go to bat for her, someone being absurdly protective and insisting on her being treated well. She didn't need it, but she deserved it.
And looking at her grateful face caused a surge of masculinity to flow through him. He was a man, standing up for his woman, holding and touching her because that's how a man treated the woman he loved. And everything else be damned, he wanted to kiss her.
What would it hurt? Just one kiss…one token of affection, one brief press against the peppermint lips he remembered from two Christmases ago. Surely just that wouldn't ruin all the progress they'd made, all the months/years of patient waiting. Surely it would feel like the most natural, perfect thing in the world, to both of them, at this place in their relationship…
He looked into the depths of her blue-green eyes, and swore he saw them darken. Her tongue darted out and touched her lips.
Surely, he wasn't going to be able to stop.
And he was going to do it. His face was moving forward without his brain giving it permission to do so yet. His mouth was parting and he could nearly taste her sweet breath.
Until the phone rang. Tom Petty's American Girl.
"Gabby," Bones said, releasing him.
The call he'd been waiting for all morning.
As he answered to his sister's ear-splitting squeal, he thought that now he knew Gabby was related to him, being that she shared with him her impeccable timing.
--
A/N: You still with me, peoples? Talk to me.