I'm on a roll, guys. This is the result of me writing obsessively instead of doing physics homework. Or my history projects. Or studying for my tests, for that matter.
Disclaimer: Bones = not mine.
The Fracture in the Friendship
"Do you see, Wendell?" Brennan points with a gloved finger to the top of the skull. "The projectile must have entered here, shattering the skull and entering with enough force to punch through the brain and through the jaw as well."
"A straight shot from the top down," Wendell muses. "I'll get Hodgins to work on finding particulates so we can identify the murder weapon."
"Good. I'll find Angela to see if she has a sketch." Stripping off her gloves, Brennan descends from the forensic platform and starts toward Angela's office. On the way, her phone rings, and she digs it out to see Booth's name flash across the screen. With a slight smile, she picks up. "Booth?"
"Yeah, hey, Bones. So, what's up? What killed the guy?"
"A projectile or some sort of long, slender weapon with enough force to punch through the top of the skull through the head and out the bottom of the jaw. In essence, impaling his head on some sort of stake."
She can almost imagine Booth's wince. "Ouch. Anything on the murder weapon?"
She shakes her head, even though he can't see her. "Nothing yet. I'm getting Hodgins to work on particulates, and Angela's working up a drawing."
"Great." He pauses for a moment before saying, "So, uh, listen, are we going to lunch today?"
A thrill shoots through her, incomprehensible and unwelcome. It's been so long without Booth's company that it still feels a bit exciting every time he asks her to lunch or dinner, which is a lot more often these days. But she doesn't want to feel like this about him. Not now, not ever. Not again.
"Yes," she says calmly, suppressing the eagerness from her tone. "One o'clock? I have extra paperwork to finish today."
"Sure. Actually, I'll be over in about ten minutes. I have to pick up some files from the last case."
"All right." She arrives at Angela's office door and adds, "I have to go."
"Yeah, sure."
He disconnects, and she shuts her phone before knocking lightly on Angela's door as she walks in. "Angela?"
"Over here, sweetie," Angela calls from in front of her screen. She has her controller in hand and is fiddling around with it.
"Are you done with the sketch?" Brennan asks, gazing at Angela's work on the screen. It just looks like a mash-up of a bunch of different skull structures and features. There is no recognizable human face.
Angela shakes her head. "Sorry, no. The damage done to the skull makes it a bit harder to reconstruct it virtually." She bites her lip as she considers the virtual pieces of the skull to the side of the screen. "I'm going to need probably another hour or so."
Brennan nods. "Sure. Send it to me and Cam when you're done."
Turning on her heel, she starts to leave, but Angela calls after her, "Wait a second, Bren. Can we talk for a second?"
Stopping, Brennan turns back and nods expectantly. "Of course. What do you want to talk about?"
There's a look in Angela's eye that convinces Brennan that she isn't going to like the upcoming topic. She isn't adept at reading people by any stretch of the imagination, but that look in Angela's eye right now is one she's known for a long time, too long not to recognize it. So she waits in apprehensive silence as Angela finds the right words.
"I heard about Booth," Angela says finally. Her expression is half-excited, half-worried. "What do…well, what do you think about it?"
About Booth? About what? Brennan tries to think about any important events in Booth's life lately and can't remember any. Not his birthday, not a promotion, not anything new. Not anything new that he's shared with her, at least. The thought sends a pang of hurt through her; does Angela know something she doesn't?
"About what?" she asks in genuine confusion.
Angela levels a deadpan look at her. "Don't play that game with me, sweetie. Seriously."
"What game?" Now she's doubly confused. "I'm not feigning ignorance, Angela."
"Booth broke up with Hannah!" Angela bursts out, her expression annoyed. "Don't tell me you forgot that!"
Oh. Oh. In fact, she had forgot about it. The news with Hannah was something she filed away almost right after she heard about it, something she tried to forget. She doesn't want to open that box, to open the emotions that come with that box. She isn't ready for it, and probably won't ever be ready.
"Oh, that," she says evenly, her eyes sliding away from Angela's. "Yes, I heard."
"And?" Angela prompts, her tone near-incredulous. "You had to have some reaction to it. Like happiness? Joy? Ecstatic celebration?"
Puzzled, Brennan looks at her. "Why would I feel any of those emotions? It's a sad thing. Booth was very happy with her."
Angela exclaims in obvious exasperation, "Because you love him, that's why! You two are perfect together!"
Brennan stops, for just a split second. Anger roars in her ears for a heartbeat. Anger at herself, because as much as she still cares for him (loves him?), no one should be able to see. She's hidden those feelings from herself well enough all this time. Why the hell can't she hide the same from others? Angela, Cam, no one should know about how she feels, damn it. Because it's not true. Love isn't real.
"I'm not in love with him," she protests with a quiet, forced laugh. "I don't know why people keep assuming that."
At that, Angela stares at her in silence for a long moment. Her eyes are unreadable, that look Brennan recognized gone. Brennan looks back at her steadily, wondering if Angela's decided to drop the topic already. But no, her friend is usually much more persistent. So what comes next? A clicking of the tongue and comment on her obliviousness? A cry of exasperation and a disapproving shake of the head?
To Brennan's shock, fury flares to life in Angela's eyes. Dark, sharp fury. She has never in all her years of knowing her seen Angela this angry. Annoyed, yes. Frustrated and vexed, often. But furious, truly furious? At her? Never.
"Stop it," Angela says, quietly but bitingly. "Stop it."
It takes her a moment to find her voice. When she does, her confusion is clear in her tone. "Stop what?"
"Stop ignoring everything," Angela snaps, crossing her arms. "I know you're not as emotionless as you want to be, Bren. You felt something when Booth told you, didn't you? I know you did, because when I walked into your office last week, you looked like a mess. I've never seen you that flustered. So I know, I know, Booth breaking up with Hannah meant something to you. Don't you dare tell me otherwise."
She opens her mouth, but all that will come to mind are lies. Ignoring her helpless gaze, Angela bulldozes over her anyway. "You've spent seven years doing a little dance around Booth, and nothing's happened! God, it's enough to make me scream. I've watched you patiently for seven years, Bren. I've watched you pretend there's nothing between you and Booth, I've watched you push your emotions away when you needed to let them all go. And it's not working, Bren. I can take one look at you and tell that you're not happy."
"I am happy," Brennan manages, staring in bewilderment at her friend. Where is this coming from? She never thought Angela would be so impassioned about a perceived relationship between Booth and herself. From her viewpoint, it's not something to be so impassioned about.
"Bullshit!" Angela fumes, her eyes blazing. "I am not going to allow you to ruin your life because of some stupid idea that you're not in love with Booth, or that you can't be in love with him. You love him and he loves you. Period! Fact of life! I've been witnessing it for seven years, so get it through your genius head."
"Angela…"
"No. Don't you 'Angela' me." She stomps over to her couch, pauses for a moment, and stomps back, stopping almost in Brennan's face. "I'm not going to take this anymore. I swear. You…you and Booth are just infuriating! You, because you're too blind to see the truth when it's been slapping you in the face for practically every minutes of every day. Booth, because he's probably too chickenshit to say anything, even though the entire lab—the entire world!—knows what he feels about you. And God, all this time, he's being such a coward for not saying anything when he's had seven goddamn years to do it!"
And something breaks in her. Something about being yelled at by her best friend who never yells at her, something about Booth being called a coward, something about everything is one thing too much for her. Without thinking, without doing anything but feeling the heat of the moment, she blurts out, "He has! He has, Angela, he has! Don't call him a coward, because he isn't. He isn't. He told me, and I…I…If anyone's a coward, it's me, because I turned him down because I—"
I was scared. I was so damn scared of changing that I let him go. I let him go.
But she bites those words back, and everything she's said runs through her mind again. The force of it hits her, and she steps back, horrified beyond words that she's revealed that much. That she's let every line of defense she has crack, let those words through. Those words no one should ever have heard.
Angela stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her, clearly shocked out of her rage. Brennan wishes she could take all her words back, take back that stupid, stupid slip of hers. She closes her eyes and knows for the first time what it means to want the floor to swallow her up.
"Sweetie," Angela breathes, shock heavy in her voice, "I…when?"
She grits her teeth and turns away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Brennan." Her voice is sharp again, shedding the astonishment for anger. "Don't you run from this. I won't let you."
"Run from what?" Brennan demands, her own anger rising in defense. "There's nothing to run from."
"From your feelings, that's what!" Angela snaps furiously. "For the first time since you've met Booth, you're being honest with yourself! I know that doesn't come easy with you—God knows that doesn't come easy with you—so when you are honest with yourself that one time in a millennia, I'm not going to let you go and ruin it!"
"Oh, because I just ruin everything?" Brennan retorts, her eyes narrowing. "And emotions come difficultly for me because I'm some sort of a—a robot with a stunted emotional range and an incapability of empathy?"
"Maybe you are, if you can't see what's right in front of your face!" Angela snarls, clenching her fists.
At that, Brennan freezes, all the air and fight leaving her in a whoosh. She knows rationally that Angela's behavior is being affected by pregnancy hormones and that her friend most likely has little control over her emotions as a result. But her words still hurt. Her words still feel like a slap to the face, or a punch to her gut. She'd never thought Angela of all people…her best friend…
"All right," she says stiffly, not knowing what else to say. What can she say to that? She has to blink back the sudden wetness in her eyes.
Horror washes instantly over Angela's face. "Oh my God. Sweetie, I didn't…I just…"
Brennan wheels on her heel and stares determinedly at the wall, swallowing hard over the burning in her throat. Carefully, carefully, she tucks it all away. Seals those emotions shut deep in her heart where nothing can ever, ever break them open again because she doesn't want to be hurt anymore. She's tired of being hurt. She just needs to be strong and scientific and cold. Logical.
"Oh my God."
Angela's voice is different this time, strange. It takes Brennan a moment to realize the strain in Angela's voice is from pain, not fury. Still hurt, still angry, she stares resolutely at the wall for another moment before concern for her friend forces her to turn.
Angela is leaning one hand against the wall as she sucks in deep gasps, her eyes wide. Her other hand is clutched around her swollen middle.
"Are you all right?" Brennan asks anxiously, her anger forgotten, vanished up in smoke. She hurries to Angela's side and takes her elbow. "Angela?"
"I think…" Angela takes a deep breath and manages through gritted teeth, "I think my water broke."
For a moment, Brennan can only stare at her as her thoughts run in a mad scramble in her head. And then Angela's words fully process, and the logical side of her takes over.
"All right, can you walk? Come over and sit on the couch, and I'll get Hodgins to drive you to the—"
"Hey, Bones, what's—"
Both of them look up to see Booth in the doorway, his hand raised to knock on the doorframe. He stares at them, his face contorting in sudden concern. "Is Angela okay—"
"Perfect," Brennan breathes, relief washing through her. "Booth, Angela's water broke."
His eyes widen in shock. "Wha—her water broke? As in she's having the baby? Now?"
"Well, some women's water break before labor, but most have their water break spontaneously during—"
"Having a baby here!" Angela manages through gritted teeth.
"Come help me," Brennan orders hurriedly. She takes Angela's right elbow, and Booth rushes over to take Angela's left elbow. Together, they help her to the door, where Brennan says, "Okay, we're going to take her to your car, Booth. You can—"
"—run the siren the whole way," Booth finishes, glancing anxiously at Angela. "Got it. Should someone get Hodgins? I mean, should he come too?"
"That would be lovely," Angela pants, a spasm of pain flashing across her face. "But do we…do we really have time for that?"
"Right," Booth agrees, and they help her past the forensic platform, past staring interns and scientists, and into the parking lot.
"You stay here," Booth says, releasing Angela's elbow. He jogs into the parking lot and pulls the SUV up sharply to the curb a minute later, getting out to open the back door. Together, they somehow manage to maneuver Angela into the backseat, and Booth floors the pedal, his siren blaring the instant they hit the streets.
Brennan sits tensely in the backseat, holding Angela's hand and struggling to organize her thoughts and remember something useful. Should she elevate Angela's feet? Should she check for the timing of the contractions? Is she supposed to be doing anything?
Booth's phone rings jarringly, and he snatches it open. "Booth."
Even from the backseat, Brennan can hear Hodgins screaming on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, man, I got her," Booth answers, hitting a sharp turn. He shoots a fearful look back at Angela to make sure she's okay before turning back to the road. "Yeah, she seems fine…No, I'm not lying, she seems fine! Yeah, of course I'm taking her to the hospital!"
Hodgins shouts something else into the phone, and Booth answers tersely, "I'm about ten minutes out from Washington Hospital…Yeah, we'll see you there then."
He snaps his phone shut, and Angela pants, "Was that…?"
"Hodgins?" Booth supplies. "Yeah. One of the interns told him about Bones and me carrying you out. He's hyperventilating over there. He's in his car now chasing us down."
"Good," Angela gasps. "I want…I want him to be there."
Booth hits another sharp turn, and Brennan throws a hand out to catch herself against the door. Angela grips her hand tighter and squeezes her eyes shut.
"We're almost there," Brennan tries awkwardly. She's never known how to comfort someone, and she isn't sure what to say now. "You're doing…great."
Despite her obvious pain, Angela manages a tight smile. "You're doing great too, sweetie. At least…you haven't spouted much scientific mumbo jumbo yet."
"It would help me to be scientific," Brennan says quickly, "but I didn't think you'd want to hear it just now."
Angela gives a chuckle that ends in a pained groan. "Oh God, don't make me laugh…"
Booth glances at them in the rearview mirror, his eyes worried. "Hang in there, Angela. We're almost there."
"Just drive," Angela groans, laying her head back on the headrest as she clutches her stomach with both hands.
Her mind racing, Brennan sits there for a long moment trying to remember just how long Angela's been pregnant and if this is premature or natural. How long has it been? Over seven months, definitely over the minimum thirty-four weeks of gestation. Which means…which means that labor is to be expected, and that Angela's pregnancy is going like clockwork. Good so far.
"She doing okay?" Booth asks worriedly, glancing at them again.
"She seems to be going into labor," Brennan observes.
"How can you be so calm about that?" Booth demands, sounding as if he's having a panic attack. "Well? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good," she answers, though she's not sure. "It's to be expected this far into the pregnancy."
"Are we…" Angela whimpers.
"Almost there," Booth answers, nearly frantic. "Almost there."
They screech up to the hospital doors three minutes later, and Booth parks right on the fire lane without hesitation. He leaps out of the front seat and yanks open the back door.
"Grab her arm," he says as he takes her other arm and slings it around his neck. "Come on, Angela. Come on." Brennan grasps Angela's other arm and does the same, and together, they support Angela through the sliding doors and up to the front desk.
"Hey," Booth calls sharply, rapping his knuckles hard on the receptionist's desk. The receptionist, who had been chatting with the nurse behind her, jumps and spins around in her chair. When she spots them, her eyes widen.
"Friend in labor here," Booth pants, sounding almost as out-of-breath as Angela is. "Where should we go?"
The nurse hurries over to their side and takes Angela's arm from Booth. She shouts to a group of passing doctors to help and nods at Booth. "We'll take it from here."
"But—" Brennan tries to keep a hold of Angela's hand, but one of the doctor's pulls her away.
"Trust us," the nurse says, waving her away dismissively. She turns and calls, "A little help here!"
A stretcher bed is rolled up quickly, and together, the doctors manage to maneuver Angela onto the mattress. They start to pull her away immediately, but Angela cries, "Wait! Wait!"
The doctors and nurses stop abruptly, confused, and Angela takes the moment to gasp, "Bren. I'm…sorry. I'm sorry…about what I said. I was just…"
Brennan shakes her head, her brow furrowed. "Angela, it doesn't matter. It's fine." And it is fine. All her anger and hurt has been wiped away by her concern. One moment of rash words can't do much to damage a nearly lifelong friendship. "Go," she urges, and the doctors wheel Angela away without further delay.
For a moment, Brennan just stands there in the hallway, adrenaline still pounding through her veins. Her mind is several minutes behind her body, and she has to take a moment to organize her thoughts, to realize exactly what has happened.
"She's having a baby," Booth breathes behind her. He still sounds shocked, even though the pregnancy has taken a perfectly natural course. "Wow."
She knows what he's talking about. The enormity of it isn't quite registering in her mind, probably won't register until she sets eyes on the wailing baby, full of life and future. It's still surreal to her.
At that moment, the hospital doors slide open, and Hodgins sprints through, his eyes wild. He nearly runs smack into Booth, and a flush of relief spreads across his face as he spots them.
"Where is she?" he demands, his breath short. "Is she okay? Did she get in okay? Are there doctors with her? Did the—the baby?"
"Calm down," Booth tells him, raising an amused eyebrow. "She's fine. The doctors just took her away."
Hodgins lets out a breath in a whoosh, relief suffusing his features. "Okay…okay, good. Good. Right? She'll be okay, right?"
"She'll be fine," Booth assures him, clapping him on the back. "Nothing we can do about it now."
"Right." Hodgins takes a deep breath, then another. "Uh, okay. So what? We just wait?"
"That's what I did when Rebecca was having Parker," Booth says. "Let's find the waiting room."
"Waiting room?" Hodgins glances at Booth and shakes his head. "No way. I'm not waiting in those plastic hospital chairs. Let me find the doctor's lounge or something."
He heads off, and Booth exchanges a glance with Brennan. "He honestly expects the doctors to just welcome us into their lounge with open arms?" Booth asks skeptically.
"He did fund the orthopedic wing," Brennan informs him. "And the cardiology wing. I think he co-sponsored the oncology wing too."
Booth misses a step, his expression incredulous. After a moment, he recovers from his surprise and catches up with her again. "Wow. It's not every day you find out your friend owns half a hospital. Why didn't I know this before?"
Brennan shrugs. "You just haven't been listening much, I guess. And it isn't surprising; Hodgins is a multi-millionaire. He's bound to have funded some public projects, and a hospital is as good a place to sponsor as any."
"I can't even sponsor my own house," Booth mutters.
They find the hospital director's office, where the director welcomes Hodgins warmly, reassures him that Angela will have the best care, and sets them up in their own separate lounge on the third floor. Hodgins paces a rut into the floor as Booth makes coffee and Brennan takes a seat on the couch. They sit in uncomfortable, tense silence until Hodgins mutters that he needs to get out for some fresh air and nearly sprints out the door.
"He's nervous," Brennan observes.
Booth shrugs, sipping his coffee. "Give him a break. I'm sure I was that jumpy when Parker was being born too." He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie in a way that makes her automatically avert her eyes, her mouth suddenly dry. Annoyance surges within her at the reaction. Stop it. This is no time for that. But she can't help but swallow when he tugs at his collar absently as he sets his cup of coffee on the counter.
"It was like this when Parker was born, you know," Booth says after a moment. He seems to feel the need to fill the silence, and she's glad for it; the silence is making her uncomfortable.
"Like what?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Hectic. Terrifying. I was in panic mode the whole time, right up until they let me see Rebecca and the baby." He chuckles a little and comes to sit next to her on the couch, close but not touching. "And then we got home and it was all panic mode again. I was so afraid Parker was going to stick his finger in a wall socket or drown himself in the bathtub."
She smiles at the thought of Booth rushing around his apartment after a crawling Parker, herding his son away from walls and every little potentially dangerous object. "You're a great father."
He grins at her. "Thanks, Bones. For what it's worth, you'd be a great mom too."
A great mom. His words startle her. It's been a long time since she's thought about having children of her own, and the idea seems foreign all over again. Was it just a couple of years ago that she asked to have Booth's child? And now everything has changed. What she wanted once is now unthinkable. She doesn't see herself with children anymore, not now, not ever. Things have shifted, changed. Changed for good, she thinks.
"Thank you," she says after a pause. To keep the silence from settling again, she adds, "How is Parker?"
Booth smiles. "He's fine. Great. Did I tell you he won second place in the science fair? He's turning into a regular old squint like you, Bones."
She smiles too at the thought of it. "I'm glad he shows an interest in science. It's a good field."
"Maybe he'll grow up to meet his own FBI consultant," Booth muses, a grin playing on his lips. "Maybe he'll be in a partnership just like ours, with this girl FBI agent. Wouldn't that be funny?"
"Quite coincidental," she says.
"If that happens, I hope they're great friends," Booth says. "Just like we are. I mean, friendships like these don't come around every lifetime, Bones. We've got something special, you know."
"I know," she murmurs, and she does. She does know.
Booth nods and hums to himself for a moment before saying, "I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl."
She pauses in confusion at his sudden topic change. "Angela's baby?"
He nods. "Yeah. Boy or girl, do you know? She didn't get a sonogram beforehand, did she?"
Leaning back into the couch, she shakes her head. "Angela wanted it to be a surprise. She said if it was a boy, they'd name it Jack, after Hodgins."
"And if it's a girl?" Booth prompts.
"Temperance. Angela told me one day that she'd name the girl Temperance." Brennan smiles at the memory of it. "Probably as a middle name, since she said it's a terrible name for a child."
"It's not terrible," Booth protests. "Temperance. I think it's great. Temperance. Temperance. Flows off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"I don't know," she says, a thrill shooting automatically through her gut. There's something in the way he says her real name that has always sent a shiver through her, a shiver of strange longing and want. She didn't understand it once, and she doesn't want to understand it now.
"Temperance," he says again. "I think it's a beautiful name. Nice and calm. Moderate, you know?"
"That's what my name means," she says with a quiet laugh.
Leaning on the back of the couch like she is, he turns his head slightly and looks at her. She watches as his eyes trace her face, her lips, before meeting her own gaze. Something unreadable in his eyes makes her breath hitch slightly.
"Temperance," he says again, almost whisper this time. "I think it's beautiful." He hesitates for a long moment, and she can see he wants to say something. Their eyes catch and hold, and there's such strength, such force in his gaze that she can't breathe properly. It's completely irrational, but she feels suddenly as if her lungs have halved in size. It's a feeling she's endured often ever since she and Booth became partners.
"I think you're beautiful," he says at last, in a rush. A light flush spreads across his cheeks, whether of embarrassment or lust she doesn't know. But it makes her heart leap in response either way.
"Booth…" She glances away, embarrassed and worried. Worried where this is headed.
He glances at her and looks away again, regret spreading across his face. "Sorry," he says, shifting uncomfortably. He moves slightly away from her, his gaze pinned on the vase of flowers on the coffee table in front of them. "Sorry. Pretend I didn't say anything."
And she realizes suddenly that he's just as afraid as she is of ruining the tentative friendship they've rebuilt between them. He's just as afraid of crossing that line and breaking those barriers, of maybe going so far that they won't ever be able to get back. It gives her courage to know that she isn't alone in her cautiousness and fear about their partnership.
"It's okay," she says, more at ease now that she recognizes her apprehension reflected in him. "It's fine, Booth. There's no harm in giving compliments."
Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. "That's okay, then?"
"Friends compliment each other, don't they?"
His smile widens, and he glances at her again. "Yeah, they do. They do."
She nods confidently. "So thank you for the compliment, Booth. I think you're very structurally pleasing as well."
At that, he laughs aloud, rolling his eyes as he does so. "That doesn't qualify as a compliment, Bones. You're going to have to use the word handsome. Or maybe hot. Or gorgeous; that works too."
"That's hardly accurate," she argues. "You should be flattered that I would take the time to describe you scientifically rather than use banal colloquial terms."
He snorts. '"Banal colloquial terms?' So what if they're overused? Doesn't mean a guy doesn't like to hear them."
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. If it makes you're happy, I think you're quite handsome. And hot. And gorgeous too, for good measure."
He beams at her, flashing her one of those radiant charm smiles of his that makes her heart skip a beat. "Aww, Bones, I didn't think you'd actually say that. See? That's a whole lot better than a bunch of 'you have a symmetrical face' and 'your jawbone is quite well-defined according to evolutionary standards.'"
"I never actually said that last one," she tells him. "Although your jaw is quite well-defined."
"Thanks, Bones," Booth chuckles. "I like your jaw too. And your zygomatic arch. And your maxilla."
She eyes him appraisingly. "I'm impressed."
"It's been almost seven years, Bones. It'd be sad if I didn't pick up something here and there." He makes a face. "But seriously, it's sort of ridiculous to compliment people like that."
"How?" she asks, mystified.
Booth thinks for a moment before he turns to her, eyes dark. "Hey, Bones," he says huskily, leaning in close. The throatiness of his voice startles her and makes her breath catch. His voice dropping to a whisper, he murmurs with a completely straight face, "I think your femurs are sexy."
She snorts. And then chuckles. And then laughs, because hearing Booth say that is so absurd and strange that she can't help but snicker. Booth cracks a smile, and then succumbs to the laughter too, and soon they're leaning up against each other, laughing not so much because Booth's words were hysterical but because it feels so good to laugh together.
"I think your ulnas are sexy," Brennan manages, and that sets them off again. She leans into Booth's shoulder, shaking with laughter, and he leans back. Somehow, suddenly, their foreheads are nearly touching, and she's disregarding any and all alarms in her head. The chuckles slowly die away, and they're left like that, heads nearly touching, noses a few inches apart. He locks eyes with her, and she feels as if his gaze is endless. She could drown in it, she thinks irrationally. She could fall in and never, ever reach the bottom of his eyes.
He opens his mouth slightly, and then shuts it again. They stare at each other, barely breathing. After another moment, he licks his lips and determination solidifies in his eyes. She's afraid but strangely impatient to hear what he's about to say.
"Bones," he says lowly, "I'm not going to lie. I really want to kiss you right now."
Her breath feels frozen in her lungs, and her heart thuds a rapid rhythm against her chest. For a long minute, she looks right back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. She can see the sincerity and the desire in his eyes, and she can't decide whether she's terrified or angry or eager, or maybe all three. She doesn't want to care for him. She doesn't want to make herself vulnerable to him again, because above all, she doesn't want to be hurt. But at that moment, she just wants to be held. Angela's words echo in her mind, and she just wants to feel wanted, to know that she isn't a robot incapable of human feeling. To know that someone wants her.
So she dips her head and catches his lips with hers.
Heaven. That's all there is to it. Kissing Bones is like a slice of heaven. It is a slice of heaven, and he'll be damned if he doesn't enjoy it. Even if he's shocked out of his mind that Bones would initiate a kiss, even if he's confused as hell as to why she would initiate a kiss, he'll take it. So he presses back against her like he's been dreaming of for days on end and kisses her for all he's worth. He kisses her like she's the only woman on earth, like there's nothing else in the world but her. He kisses her like she's the most precious thing on earth, like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. All of it is true, and he kisses that into her too. He kisses her until he's dizzy and giddy with all sorts of feelings.
She pulls back from him with a gasp, and he pants in air too, staring at her. God, what has he done to deserve this? To deserve her? And suddenly he's brave, brave, brave, and without thinking, he says, "I love you, Bones. God, I love you."
And, just like that, she freezes. Everything in his head, all the feelings, all the exploding happiness, screeches to a halt, and he knows. He knows he's stepped over the line, over that invisible border.
Goddamn it.
She pulls away from him, and he grabs her wrist. "Wait, Bones, please. What—what did I do? Is it what I said?"
He said too much, didn't he? He's spooked her, goddamn it. It was too early, and he spooked her.
"Please, Bones," he tries desperately as she stands and backs rapidly toward the door. He leaps up and reaches for her, an ache in his chest. "Please." He can't say anything else. He doesn't know how to fix this.
Her eyes are flat. Flat in a way that terrifies him. Something—something—has hit her hard, and all her walls have been thrown up. All those damn walls.
"Please," he says, one last time. He holds her eyes for a split second, barely a moment.
She disappears through the doors before he can say anything more.
I get the feeling you guys hate me now. I'll fix them, I promise! Reviews always help, you know.
Oh, and thoughts on Brennan's argument with Angela? I'm getting a horrible OOC vibe that I hope isn't too blaring. How was it?