THE BET
Sixty hour work week? Check. Season finale trauma-induced writers block? Check. Particularly nasty stomach virus? Check. Well, then, this MUST be my life...Oy, the stories I could tell you, you wouldn't believe it. So I'm not going to burden you with them. Finally, at LONG last, the next chapter is ready! I guess being bedridden is good for SOMETHING, anyway...Really hope you enjoy it! A special thank you to my best bud, Gryphin, for singing the Writers Block Blues with me. The harmony was never so sweet, my friend.
Gusty breezes pushed the droning sound of the steady downpour through the window. The fresh smell of sodden earth travelled down from the park and permeated the room. Unseen cars sluicing down the flooded streets mixed with the rapid slap of feet as people ran from bus to home and home to work, the early pulse of city life not stopping even on Sunday. Curtain-like fists of rain lashed the building and bounced onto the screen, dampening the discarded clothes folded carefully on the bureau at the side of the bed.
Bottle of water in hand, he padded silently back into the bedroom and stopped, arrested by the sight before him. She was on her stomach, head partially burrowed under the pillow, legs motionless, knotted in the crumpled sheets. Her hair whirled in several different directions, the follicular chaos somehow only adding to her beauty. He moved closer, drawn to her side of the bed by the same urge that had always driven him to look at her, studying her closely during their workday. Dark lashes at rest on pale cheeks. Small, soft smile on rosy lips. All that exposed skin, so soft and smooth and real. He simply stood, his tall, powerful, frame still, ignoring the chill that spread on his bare skin as he stared down at her recumbent form. She seemed more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. Maybe it was the soft lighting from the hall, or maybe she really was as content as she looked. Or maybe he was just a wishful ass who was projecting his needs on her. There would never be enough time to look his fill. Never. No matter how much time he got. Looking at her calmed something in him, laid to rest the worry and conflict that so often churned inside him. When she sighed and shivered, his eyes shot quickly to the alarm clock. Five-thirty. The only thing better than staring at Bones was touching Bones, and he was wasting valuable time. With a quiet yawn he skirted the bed, setting the bottle on the nightstand and shucking his boxers. A quick, cold moment later he was next to her, curving his muscular frame to hers and drawing the comforter over their chilled bodies.
*****
Slowly she worked her way through the thick layers of sleep. Mind blank; eyes tightly shut. Little by little sensations registered, each bit of information another piece in a sleepy puzzle. She tried to move her arm and realized finally it was numb, her shoulder mashed tight against someone else's arm. A long, sinewy arm. Another arm was slung loosely over her waist. As she took a deep breath her body pressed tightly against the broad chest and narrow hips snuggled warmly behind her. She was completely enfolded in male, surrounded on all sides. Hot, moist air brushed across her cheek, tickling and teasing her skin. At last she opened her eyes, her brain waking her completely. Fascinated, she stared intently at her hands.
His wide, flat palms were wrapped around hers, lax and yet still undeniably protective. Very much like his body curled around hers. All his hardness, his impressive toughness temporarily soft and malleable. Her interest piqued, she spent an endless amount of time studying them, scrutinizing the strange elegance, the lovely lines. The sensitive arches and pads, the graceful but strong wrists. The unusually soft skin, for someone who was rough on his hands. His deft, capable hands. She remembered what those hands had done to her only hours before and couldn't quite hold back a responsive shudder.
Quietly, gently, afraid to wake him but unable to resist temptation, she examined them. Her scholar's brain catalogued each bone and segment even as a part of her simply looked. Distal phalanges, middle phalanges, proximal phalanges. Metacarpals, hamate, pisiform, triquetrum. Her fingers brushed lightly against each fold, each crease and callus and scar. Capitate, lunate, trapezium. Hands that she'd touched. Hands that had touched her. Trapezoid, Scaphoid.
The gentle transit of her fingers and eyes was abruptly halted when those very hands curved and closed over hers. The muscular bicep pinned beneath her bunched, and his leg pushed lazily between her knees. With a flare of unease at being caught off-guard, she pulled toward the side of the bed. He merely tightened his grip, sliding one hand to her hip in an indolent, intimate caress.
"Mmm, morning."
A stronger puff of air blew against her skin as he spoke, making her shiver yet again. Her arm began to send out signals as it woke with him, prickles swarming and teeming from end to end. "What time is it?" she murmured, a matching prickle of anxiety scratching the back of her throat. Maybe she hadn't been asleep for that long. But she knew she had; the low light in the room was due to the heavy, cloud-covered morning and not the meager illumination from the hallway.
"Don' care, s'early, g'back to sleep..."
"I have to go. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Again she shifted; again his grip tightened and he pulled her firmly back against him. "Booth..."
His chest vibrated against her back as he mumbled again. "Mm-mm. Don'tcha wanna stay?"
Warm lips nuzzled her neck, raising both goose flesh and her heart rate as any nervousness washed away on a flood of arousal. He had an entirely too clever mouth. It had been her downfall many times recently, and she found herself succumbing yet again. Weakly, she fought against it, and against her own desire. "No....I have some things..."
The deft, capable hands she'd admired only moments ago began to rub soothing circles on her body. Round and round, back and forth. Up and down. Even as a hot flush warmed its insidious way through her body, she felt him harden against her. Arms, legs, chest. Every part of him. A deplorable double-hitch in her breathing betrayed her reaction to him, and was followed by another bout of desperate weakness, much the same as what she'd encountered under his hands last night. "Booth...Booth, stop it. I really...I have some very...lab...ohhh..." Her protests melted into one lone groan as he slipped the arm that had been beneath her further down her body, his fingers stealing boldly between her thighs, sliding and rubbing, stimulating and caressing until she felt as if she was dissolving. "Oh god, Booth..." Her hips jerked back hard against him, once, twice, three times. "Oh please..."
"C'mon, Bones," he muttered in her ear, his body eagerly riding the wanton writhing of her hips, "don't you want to stay?" An urgent keening moan was her only answer, and he rolled closer, pressing her deeper into the mattress and stroking her even more urgently. Her thighs parted yet further, and he took advantage of the opportunity to sink two fingers inside her, greedily wringing a choked whine from her. "Stay." He was so goddamn hard at the feel of her, the sound of her, he wasn't sure he'd last long enough to get his fill. "God, you're so fucking hot I can't stand it..." Champing at the bit to be inside her, he leaned harder, pushing her further forward onto her hip and covering her completely.
"Hurry, god, hurry..." She couldn't reach him, she wanted to touch him but he was in back of her, on top of her, crowding her, touching her. Controlling her. And she loved it. She felt everything, heard everything, experienced everything that he was, and lost all control in the process. When he finally came to her, sliding thickly in from behind, her loud groan of relief matched his. "Shit, shit...oh..." With each slow surge of his hips her nipples dragged against the sheets, setting off sensory explosions in her womb. He was grinding her into the mattress, his muscular weight bearing down on her even as his arms held her securely to him, his fingers quickly finding and teasing her again.
He sank deeper on a forceful thrust, grunting in lustful satisfaction when she spread her legs wider for him. "You feel so fucking good, you're driving me crazy..." Driven to a faster pace by her quivering, whimpering responses, he set up a smooth rhythm, at once fast and unhurried. Returning to her over and over again was his driving desire, a nexus he was only too happy to seize. With a surge of greed he brought his hand to her face, needing to feel her lips, and was amply rewarded when she trapped his finger with her tongue, drawing it into the warm recesses of her mouth.
The sounds of their lovemaking rose and fell, melding with the muted din from the street and competing with it. Instead of intruding on their privacy, the city sounds seemed only to heighten the intimacy between them. The rain, the gloom, his weight insistent upon her, all combined in a dark erotic uproar in her mind. Mindlessly she bit down hard on his knuckle, groaning brokenly as her orgasm cleaved through her. She was dimly aware of his answering growl at her ear, and could only lay open to him, clutching the sheets as he battered himself into her. Before she realized it, her body caught up to his and she was bucking and plunging under him again, swept along toward another dizzying crescendo by his fingers and hips and clever, clever mouth. Heart thumping, eyes blurring, breath wheezing, she peaked once again. She sagged under the crush of her release while he jerked into her. His shout of fulfillment as he convulsed around and inside her wrung one last answering spasm from her body, and then they lay still, chests heaving, legs tangled. His head dropped to the nape of her neck and he closed his arms around her waist, keeping her near as they panted, listening to the rain.
*****
Some time later he weakly raised his head and brushed a kiss on her damp shoulder. His first attempt to speak brought forth nothing but a dry rasp, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Good morning."
"Mmph..." Forcing her eyes open, she blinked away the exhaustion and the sleepiness that had quickly been returning to her and swallowed hard. "Morning." A slow stretch of her body confirmed that all her limbs still worked, despite her initial fears. "What –" She stopped short, remembering what had happened earlier when she had asked the time. Instead, she hooked a heel on the edge of the bed and this time he let her go, flopping limply onto his back and watching her slender back as she reached out for her clothes. Her shoulders slumped upon the first feel of her dress. It was thoroughly damp and would be quite uncomfortable to wear.
"Go ahead, grab what you want, sweats, whatever. You know where it all is," he offered, easily anticipating her request. Go take a shower and I'll whip us up something to eat."
She clutched at the dress reflexively and fought the sudden urge to take a step in retreat. "That's not necessary, I can shower at home. I really should get going. I have a lot of work to do." It wasn't a lie. She always had large piles of bones and papers to sift through, all organized and awaiting completion in her home office. At last count, twenty-seven sets of bones, to be exact. Plus, there was her not-so-small matter of her book. At this rate, it would never be finished.
"No point in going home all grubby." With a tired groan he heaved himself up and snatched his shorts from the floor. Yanking them on, he rounded the bed to her. "You grab a shower and I'll bring you home."
"You're grubby too. Don't you need to shower?"
"Nah. I'm a guy. People expect me to be grubby. You go ahead and shower, I'll get one later. I'll make us some breakfast while you're in there."
Apprehension began flooding her system again at his casual words. Casual words for a casual, intimate morning. "That's not necessary, Booth, really. If you would just call for a cab..." Nervously her fingers tightened on the sweatpants she was tugging out of the pile, but with a sense of annoyance at her silliness she forced them to relax.
"It's no problem." Reaching in the drawer, he sifted around through the offerings. Moose and squirrel or Flyers...deciding, he pulled out moose and squirrel and shrugged it over his head. "It's just fruit and cereal, Bones. And I'll bring you home, no need for a taxi."
Carefully controlling her annoyance, she hissed out a sigh. "There's no point in you taking me all the way home. It doesn't make any sense."
His grin flashed bright in the dim room. "Yeah it does. I'll keep you drier. The cabbie won't pull up onto the sidewalk and I will."
She fought unsuccessfully against the smile tugging at her lips at the image, knowing he'd do it. He'd done it before, when they returned from their first date. She impatiently ordered herself to stay focused. "It'll be better if I use a cab. I need to finish a massive amount of paperwork for the institute, and I simply have to work on my book today. I really can't have any distractions at the apartment."
"And you won't – I'm just dropping you off. I'm actually heading into the office, myself."
Sweatshirt in hand, she abruptly stopped, the next argument nearly out of her mouth when what he'd said registered. "What?"
Keeping his face carefully blank at her reaction, he continued. "Got a call yesterday from Rick – the paperwork is in on that exhumation for the Strickland case. Gonna go there straight after Mass." He hadn't needed to look at her to know he'd surprised her but he'd looked anyway, since looking at her was his favorite pastime. One of them, anyway. The expression of sheer bafflement on her face made him certain that she hadn't expected it.
She tried to hide the hard knock of relief, busily bending down to pull socks out of his bottom drawer. "Oh. I suppose that will be fine, then, if you think you'll have enough time."
"Sure, no problem. Just gonna drop you off and then head back here to get ready. So, bananas and corn flakes good for you?" Unable to resist teasing her, he smiled widely and stepped close again, leaning over her and dropping his hands lightly onto her hips. "Unless you'd rather just skip the breakfast part and have some company in the shower..." He dropped a soft, persuasive kiss on her lips, adding just enough heat until she gripped at his waist, and then indulged himself with a brief snuggle, burying his nose in her soft hair for an all-too-enjoyable moment. Pulling back, he noted with happiness the soft, almost warm light surfacing in her eyes and finally relented. "I'm sorry, I'll be good." In a sudden change of mood he nudged her toward the bathroom, smacking her matter-of-factly on the backside. "Alright then, get a move on, shower up and we'll eat."
At a loss to decipher his unusually amenable behavior, she took a few steps before turning back to him wonderingly. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Thank you, Booth." When he only smiled at her, she shook her head in confusion and entered the bathroom.
As soon as the door thumped shut, he backed up until his legs hit the bed and fell over backward with a heavy whoosh. Dazed, staring blindly at the ceiling, he rubbed his hand in lazy circles across his chest. God, she was a teeming mass of contradictions. Soft and hard, confident and nervous, fun and prickly. Obstinate. Vulnerable. Soft-hearted. Brilliant. Clueless. Lost. Driven. And he loved every single damned one of them. She was punctual, too. Knowing she was as good as her word and would be out in under ten, he dragged himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen. It was a good thing he'd laid in some rations Bones would deign to eat, just in case. Cereal and fruit, blech. Ah well, it'd hold him, at least until he dropped her off at home. He'd stop at Dos Gringos on the way back; get himself one of their kick-ass breakfast sandwiches. Maybe some of the cilantro-scrambled eggs, too. He really needed to drag her there soon. They'd had a bunch of vegan and vegetarian items on the menu the last time he'd checked. That scrambled soy and sun-dried tomato thingy sounded like it was right up Bones' alley. Bones Alley, hah. Wonder if I can move there? I hear it's got a helluva view. Laughing at himself, dreaming of carbs and dairy products and laser-blue eyes, he snagged bowls and spoons, milk and cereal and began pulling everything together for breakfast.
Biting off a sharp curse when the shampoo worked its way into her eyes, she took a moment to rinse her face before continuing to lather her hair. She was distracted. He was distracting her. Which was exactly why she need her space. Exactly why she needed to go home. She'd thought for sure that when she told him she was going home to work that he would argue with her, would want to spend the day with her. But except for the discussion about breakfast and the taxi, he'd been...agreeable. Accommodating, even. She hadn't expected that. But why? Past experience evidenced that he was a particularly stubborn, determined man. He was also trying to win their bet. So why give up so easily? Maybe he'd seen that she was serious about going home, and wouldn't be swayed. She smiled, sure that was the reason. She just had to keep insisting that she didn't need romance for another six weeks, and she'd have won the bet. And satisfied the desire for him that never quite seemed to go away. Comfortable with her thought process, she continued scrubbing vigorously. "Damn it!" And rinsed her eyes under the spray again.
*****
True to his word, he parked on the curb, shimmying the truck up to within a foot of the entryway overhang. Water blanketed the windows, blocking out all details of the people scurrying in and out of the building, making them appear as colorful blobs on the run. Booth switched off the engine and turned to her, a wicked glint in his eye.
"Booth, stop right there." She knew that look, had been on the receiving end of it many times. It was just as dangerous as his mouth. "We're in a public place – you need to control yourself."
"I just want a kiss goodbye, Bones. Just one little kiss. Is that so much to ask?"
"I've experienced your 'little' kisses, Booth, and they're not actually little. Behave yourself."
"This, from you?" Amused, he tsked disapprovingly. "And you were the one who said I was embarrassed by the sex stuff. Really, Bones..."
"What – I'm not!" she protested heatedly. "It's just that I've realized lately that you have no self-control over your baser needs."
Undaunted, he angled slowly over the center console, deliberately invading her space. "What? You mean baser, as in first base?" With his hands braced on either side of her he levered closer, looking her straight in the eye. "Second base?" When she remained stubbornly silent, he leaned in the last inch and lost himself in her pale, pale eyes. "Third base?" In a leisurely fashion he laid his lips on hers, nibbling and licking at her mouth until she returned the embrace, her small hand stealing to the nape of his neck. Only then did he deepen the kiss, drawing her in until her lids slid shut and her lips parted on a trembling sigh. He slid his hand to her hip, sliding his palm under the t-shirt she'd borrowed so he could feel her soft skin, measure her quickened breathing. His thumb gently brushed the satiny-soft underside of her breast before grazing lightly over her pebbled nipple. He began a lazy circuit, testing and teasing her with his thumb, his palm resting intimately against her. When she shuddered, he allowed his mouth to drift down to her jaw so he could nip and lap at her to his heart's content. The delicate fragrance just there, and the way her throat worked when he scraped his teeth against it. Her helpless shiver finally brought him back to reality, and he pulled back, his heated study taking in her flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. "Baser needs, Bones?" he muttered thickly. "Basic needs, maybe. You make it hard for me to step back sometimes."
Light-headed, her heart throbbing and her breath unsteady, she stared dumbly at him. Gradually her senses began to level and she pulled the bag he'd loaned her from the floor with trembling fingers. "I don't know what that means."
"Don't you?" Suddenly afraid he'd revealed too much too soon, he pulled back emotionally as well and forced a lighter tone. "Well, I'm still pretty tired this morning. I'm not sure I know what I mean." He knew his grin was half-hearted, but he saw her relax fractionally, and sighed in quiet relief. That had been almost too intense for him, too. Patting her knee in a brotherly fashion, he tried again. "Look, we'll talk tomorrow, okay? You'll be pretty busy today, and I need to find out what's going on with this case. We're most likely going to wind up heading out to Warm Springs toward the end of the week. Wanna hit the diner tomorrow for lunch, discuss details?"
She cleared her throat and fought to speak calmly. "Actually, Booth, if we'll be travelling out of town for this case, I won't have time for lunch this week. I need to get as much work done as possible before we go, so Zach isn't overwhelmed with tasks that are beyond his training level."
"That's okay. Truth is I probably won't have much time during the day, either. Got a shitload of paperwork on this file, and need to do some last phone interviews and such before the trip. Gotta move my court cases around, too. If you want to hit Ella's on F Street for pizza maybe tomorrow night or Tuesday, we can make our plans." But he knew the minute he said it that it wasn't going to happen. The minute he spoke he could see her brain working, coming up with a valid excuse to forestall him.
"I don't know. I'll probably be working late most nights – I have to submit the next chapter of the new book to my editor before we leave. Perhaps it would be best if you emailed the particulars to me? That way you're sure to reach me."
He wasn't reaching her now. She was already as good as out of the truck, already hiding in her apartment. And he was an idiot. Hadn't he just told himself an hour ago that he needed to give her some time? Yet here he was pushing her for more like all those other assholes she'd dated. He needed to calm down and throw her some space. "Sure, no problem. I'll shoot you the deets, either tonight or tomorrow." He watched her open the door and was surprised when she turned quickly back to him. She hesitated for a moment, the struggle plain on her face, and then seemed to come to a decision.
"Booth, thank you."
Confused, he looked askance at her. "You already thanked me, Bones. I told you, it was no trouble bringing you home."
"No." She smiled at him then, a cautious, slightly-nervous, yet entirely appealing little quirk of the lips. "Thank you for yesterday – and last night. I had a wonderful time."
It was the easiest thing in the world, then, to smile back at her. "You're welcome, Bones. I had a great time, too." When she remained, staring at him, he made a small move with his hand toward the door. "You're getting wet."
"Oh." Startled at her behavior, she threw him another shy smile and bolted out of the truck, flipping the door shut in her wake.
Heedless of the truck's interior, he lowered the window, watching her carefully shuffle into the building. He grinned and laughed, enjoying the sight. Even tightly laced, his sneakers were much too big for her. Finally she was gone from sight, and he closed the window, leaning back in the seat to stare absently at the windshield.
She needed more time. He knew that. He just had to find the patience to give it to her. He didn't want to force her into anything that would make her uncomfortable. He just wanted to show her how it could be between them, how good it could be. What he hadn't thought about was the fact that now he knew how good it could be. His deep, contented sigh filled the cab. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd felt like this when he was a teenager. It was pretty damned awesome, though.
Revitalized, he started the truck and checked his watch. He'd have to hurry if he was going to make Mass – and he had to make sure he hit up the confessional. Thinking carefully, he decided it was worth it. So what if he didn't actually have to go to the office today? Nothing could be done with the case on a Sunday, but she didn't know that. He'd go in for a couple of hours anyway, get some overdue paperwork out of the way. Some self-imposed penance, to go with whatever Father Froelich threw at him for lying. Among everything else he'd done. He sighed again. What was that saying, about the best of intentions? Whoever came up with that was definitely Catholic. Grinning, he blew the horn and wormed his way back into traffic.
And there you go. Where they'll stop, nobody knows. I have to say, the first part of this chapter was inspired by my deep and intense longing for my own rainy-day Booth. Just like angry Booth and shower Booth. Buy one in every style! Hah. Sorry, must be the virus. Anyway, as I said, I really hope you liked this, and if you want to reach out to me, you know what to do! Thanks so much for reading, and for your patience.