A/N: Again, a big thank you to everyone who's reading along and taking the time to review. You're all fantastic.
There's a slight change in tone with this installment and Angela's nowhere to be found (don't worry – she'll be back!) but things are moving along. I hope. LOL
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He tries to keep a low profile for the rest of afternoon and evening, figuring if Angela can't find him, then she can't give him the third degree. Bones will find him if she's got any news regarding the case, like an ID for the victim or cause of death or anything basically.
They probably aren't even at square one yet.
But it's late now, almost eleven, and while he's given Angela the slip for most of the day, Bones has done the same to him, save for a thirty second conversation over the skeleton in question near dinner time, and he's starting to get antsy. He finds her on the deserted platform, hunched over what looks like a microscope on steroids. It's dark and quiet all around her, but she's oblivious as usual, so focused on her work that she could be the only person left alive on earth and it wouldn't matter.
"Anything?" he asks, coming up the steps.
She looks up, not seeming the least bit surprised that he's there.
"Nothing concrete yet," she says. She looks him up and down, no doubt taking in his rumpled, worn appearance. "I told you that you should go home. Get some sleep. I'll call if anything turns up."
He moves closer, standing just behind her and peering over her shoulder like he might actually be able to make sense of what she's looking at. He turns his attention to her then, with her head bent and hair pulled back so the long graceful line of her neck is visible, and he somehow manages to refrain from stroking his fingers against that soft patch of pale skin. He's brought her tea because he knows that she often needs a little dose of caffeine to recharge her batteries at this time of night but she prefers it in the form of tea, not coffee, with just a little bit of raw sugar mixed in. He also knows that whenever possible, she prefers to drink out of china or ceramic as opposed to cardboard cups, so he slides a mug onto the tabletop beside her, watching as her fingers instinctively curl around the handle.
He knows so many things about her, he thinks. So many silly, insignificant little things. He knew them long before they started sleeping together and he imagines he'll always know them, from now until he stops knowing anything. His knowledge of her goes too deep to ever be lost.
"Didn't seem fair," he tells her. "Me home in my nice comfy bed while you're here burning the midnight oil…"
She shrugs.
"Suit yourself."
It makes him laugh, the way she's utterly unaffected by small gestures of thoughtfulness or consideration. He thinks that another woman might be touched, might offer up a trembling smile and a sweet kiss in gratitude. But then he barely remembers other women so he might have that all wrong. He doesn't know anymore.
He watches her again, tucking her hair behind her ear and cocking her head in concentration, and he knows he wouldn't want to change a thing about her.
Nothing.
"So…" he says, stepping even closer. "I hear you told Angela that I like broccoli…"
Bones barely reacts, adjusting a knob on her microscope and squinting just a bit harder.
"What?"
"You know. *Broccoli.*"
He feels only slightly ridiculous, using broccoli like it's a dirty word, but then Bones looks up at him, understanding dawning in her pale eyes, and he's too distracted to care.
"Oh. Yes. I did," she says simply. "But I was extremely vague. I literally told her that you liked broccoli. She'd made an earlier allusion to men viewing cunnilingus as broccoli that had to be endured in order to get dessert, so the implication was clear but I did not provide any details or even directly reference you and I and any sex act that-"
"I get it, Bones."
She swivels her chair around, facing him. She studies him with what looks like curiosity, the same theoretical interest that colors her eyes when she studies a skull.
"Are you angry?" she asks. "Angela is a close friend and it's generally considered socially acceptable for women to share these sorts of details with their peers. It's no different than if you were in the locker room with your hockey teammates and told them about my fondness for frottage as foreplay or using your handcuffs during sex. I wouldn't be angry or –"
Booth snorts, shaking his head.
"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon."
"Why?" She cocks her head, thinking. "Is it because of Wendall? I suppose it would be awkward for him to hear about my sexual predilections given that I am his superior and have considerable sway regarding the future of his career…"
"It's not because of Wendall," Booth sighs. "Not really."
"Then why?"
He leans back against the table behind him, lifting his shoulders tiredly.
"Because I just think that what happens between us is private. It's just between us, and I don't want to go sharing it with everyone else that we know."
She furrows her brow, and he knows that she's trying to understand him, trying to follow his line of thinking as best she can.
"It's not as if we're asking them to join us while we're in the middle of intercourse. It's still just between us. We're just discussing it with the people in our lives."
He nods, trying to return the favor and see her point of view. She's right, he knows. It's normal to talk about these kinds of things with friends. Hell, it's normal to acknowledge that these kinds of things are happening in the first place. But he thinks of everything they've gone through to get to this point, all the time that was wasted, and it's tough not to want to guard what they have with his life, keep it safe from the crazy, chaotic world around them.
"Is there a reason that you don't want anyone to know?" she asks, and it's one of those rare times that Bones sounds unsure, tentative. "Are you uncomfortable with the idea that others might know you're in an intimate relationship with me?"
It kills him that she might think, however fleetingly, that he's ashamed or embarrassed of her. God, if she only knew. If she only knew how she makes him feel – like there must be something special about him if she's willing to waste her time with him – there wouldn't be room for a single doubt.
"No," he tells her emphatically. "No. Of course not, Bones." He crouches down in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I just think… you know, it's all pretty complicated. It's complicated… and we're trying to find our way with all of this and if we add other people to the mix, you know, with their opinions and their issues, it's going to make it that much harder. I thought it might be easier if we just kept it between the two of us for a while, till we figured some stuff out. That's all."
She nods, smiling in a shy, almost coy way.
"I think I understand what you're getting at. It's just difficult for me. I am a very candid person. I don't really know how to censor myself."
"I know," Booth laughs. "Believe me."
Her grin deepens, becomes even sexier, even more mysterious.
"And I very much enjoy having sex with you, you know."
He laughs again, wondering how a forensics lab could possibly be one of his favorite places on earth.
"Yeah, well, the feeling's more than mutual."
She shifts forward in her chair, so her knees are pressed against his chest and her hands curl over his shoulders.
"It's more than that, too," she whispers. "I just…" She shakes her head, as if for once, her brain can't quite process what she's experiencing. "I enjoy *you* very much. That's all. It seems natural to want to share those feelings with someone. With Angela. I don't know…"
He rubs his hands along her thighs, still smiling.
"You're right. You're absolutely right. I just… You know she's going to be pumping you for each and every detail. And she's not gonna give it a rest until you tell her everything…"
Bones laughs and he's convinced it's the sexiest sound he's ever heard.
"Are you worried about what I might say?" she teases. "Because you have no reason, I assure you. You'll hold up to the even the most severe scrutiny extremely well."
He leans in closer, thumbs running along the sides of throat, and grins.
"Good to know."
"So really, when you think about it… this is all your fault," she says, as flirty as she gets. "Perhaps if you weren't so impressive, I wouldn't be so eager to share the details and Angela's powers of persuasion would go for naught."
"Right," he whispers, pressing his mouth to jaw. "It's all my fault. Sure."
She nods, her eyes half shut.
"I'm glad you see things my way for once…"
He kisses her, because he's spent years thinking about tasting that smart mouth and it's too much of a temptation not to now that he's actually allowed. And it doesn't matter that they're in the lab and anyone could conceivably walk in despite the late hour because she tastes sweet, like her tea, and her body is hot everywhere it touches his and it's been nearly nineteen hours since he last touched her.
"Hurry up," he tells her once they pull apart. "Get me an ID so we can get the hell out of here…"
She smiles and he's tempted to kiss her again.
"Got a little craving for broccoli?" she teases.
He laughs, pushing himself back to his feet.
"I don't know. You think you can talk me into it?"
Bones doesn't responds, just shoots him a sly little grin that says she knows very well she won't have to but even she did, he'd give in in the end.
He always does for her.
Booth leans back against the exam table once more, watching her. She's right, so he doesn't even think about arguing.