TAKE
"You've been stealing my fries."
They sit together, at their table, in the Diner. It's always like this, but it's not the same anymore. She takes him here quite often, he seems to enjoy it. The waitress always flirts with him, and he finds it hysterical. Brennan doesn't know how one can't recall their own attractiveness.
Today's been quiet, though, for whatever reason. They'd forced out small conversations here and there over lunch, but everything has been off. Of course it's been off, but today even more so. Over the past three days, he'd made no progress whatsoever. Nothing. It's all been a little discouraging.
They trade turns staring out the window with almost sad, outlying expressions, or making eyes at their food.
But he feels something jump in his middle when he catches her straying hand out of his peripheral. His brow knits just a little, but he doesn't voice his tangled thoughts. They're rolling and crashing like waves during a storm, yet he's become as still as the lighthouse itself.
It's two full minutes later that he catches sight of her pilfering fingers again. He realizes then that she must have been doing it all during lunch. Except by the far-away look in her eyes, she doesn't appear to even realize her actions.
So he says it.
But not to her, not really. For his brow is still furrowed in puzzlement and a weight settles more heavily in his midsection. It isn't entirely unpleasant, though, which is even more curious.
She blinks out of her daze, staring down in surprise at the two potato slivers between her fingers. Suddenly embarrassment and guilt washes over her face and her wide eyes fly to his in apology. But instead of being annoyed or amused, he seems fascinated.
He hasn't looked away from her hand, or the fries she'd been ready to snatch.
"Sorry." She says it anyway, bemused. "I didn't realize…"
But he's looking to her now in cautious expectancy. Revelation, even. "You do that a lot, don't you?" he almost whispers. "Didn't you?" he amends.
Her jaw is slack, and she's in awe. The silence lasts for a full minute before she can force her head to nod. "Yes," she can barely more than breathe the word.
And he's smiling. To her, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds on an otherwise cloudy day. The brown she loves is shining and sparkling, and it's breathtaking. She feels a lifting in her chest she hasn't felt since seeing him wake up after four days of being lost to coma.
Her breath hitches, her voice catches, but she's speaking quickly. Babbling, almost. "It used to aggravate you. But I think you stopped protesting around the same time I did when you called me…"
His smile widens. Hers does the same, and everything is just delirious and she knows now what Cloud Nine means.
"Bones," he says. Finishes her sentence, just like always.
It's not perfect yet, but it feels like it now.
This will not be a race, but a marathon.