AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited. Apologies for the lack of review replies, but RL is crazy and we are working on the final chapter. Please know we appreciate each and every one of you. So who is ready to find out how BB got together? It's a long one :)


~o~ Chapter Five - We Knew These Steps By Heart ~o~

There's this restaurant run by a guy he knows. It's out of town, away from everyone and everything that could get in the way of this evening. Somewhere they don't have to worry about hiding the way they look at each other, or fight the urge to touch. Somewhere a squint isn't likely to pop out at any minute and catch them together.

He isn't sure it will meet her demand of 'somewhere expensive' but he is fairly certain she was teasing about that – and he definitely remembers it having class of the romantically-lit-with-a-great-menu variety.

There's half an hour in the car and a short walk across the small parking lot, the dusky sky above like paintbrush rinse-water, hung with clouds of smoke. He reaches for his partner's hand as they walk the slight incline to the dark wood door, smiling when she turns her eyes on him in girlish delight and not being able to resist pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck as she crosses in front of him to enter the building; pleasure, pride and arousal flooding him when she sighs in response.

They are shown past a small dance floor ringed with tables to a booth near the back, and when Bones slides in beside him, her thigh pressed to his, rather than taking a seat opposite him, it's just another example of the way things have changed between them the last few weeks. Booth couldn't be more thankful, but he has a hard time concentrating on what he wants to eat when she insists on sliding a hand beneath the table and along his leg.

In the end he gets it together enough for them to order and they sip wine as they wait for their food. Bones still has her hand on his thigh and he cocks an eyebrow in amusement, before returning the favor, sliding his palm until he feels the hem of her skirt before dropping his fingers to curl around her leg.

"Booth!" she scolds beneath her breath.

"You started it, Dr. Brennan," he tells her, with a grin.

He should know better than to goad her, he realizes a moment later, as she slides her hand high between his legs until he is jumping from his seat and quickly checking he's drawn no attention with his startled yelp.

His partner chuckles and lifts her hand to the table top and he can't work out whether relief or disappointment wins the battle within him.

"So," she starts, as he tugs to loosen his tie. "Vacation."

"Vacation," he agrees, and gulps at his wine.

"What have you got in mind?" she asks innocently, but dammit if his libido doesn't take her words a whole other way.

He flicks an eyebrow at her and she laughs, low and throaty, the way he likes. The way he's always liked. The way that sets him on fire, when she presses her lips to his ear in bed.

"How am I going to keep you under control when we're all alone?" she wonders aloud and his eyes widen. He's all set to continue their playful banter, but she looks suddenly serious.

He takes her hand. "Bones?"

"What if we find living in close proximity, in solitude, to be difficult?"

"What are you talking about, it'll be great. Hey, we already spend most of our time together, right? I mean I'm practically living at your place…"

Bones' eyes widen but she nods. "I'm not explaining myself very well. I don't want you to get the impression I…" She sits back. "This... us... I mean, it's only be a few weeks..."

"It's been way longer than that and you know it, Bones."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Are you... are you having second thoughts?"

"About us?"

"Well... I meant about the vacation... but..."

"No, Booth. Not... not about either."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good, Bones, because this, what we're doing, it's…" He realizes he is squeezing her hand tightly when she forcefully squeezes back and he laughs, relaxing his fingers to stroke them lightly over her palm. "It's everything," he murmurs, gazing into her eyes like a love-struck fool. Which is exactly what I am.

She ducks her head and a blush creeps over her cheeks that he finds pretty adorable. "I agree," she tells him and he leans in for a lingering kiss, grazing her bottom lip with his teeth just to hear her moan.

A cleared throat interrupts them and the waiter delivers appetizers and a message that their main course will be delayed, he hopes they don't mind.

When he's moved back to the kitchen, Booth's eyes narrow on the dance floor. There's an old guy playing piano on a little raised platform to the side, some old jazz standard. The memory of the last time they danced together stirs him to offer Bones his hand. "Dance with me?"

They fit together so well. His thoughts remain on the night everything changed between them as she rests her forehead to his throat and melts into him.

~o~

Daisy and Sweets get married in late May. The bride wears white and the groom wears his Starfleet uniform. Or at least he would have, had he got his own way. Word is there was some wrangling, with tears from Daisy and a stern talking to from Angela, who apparently can't help but try and fix everyone around her. In the end it's all much more normal than Booth would have imagined. He's kinda disappointed.

The reception is at the same hotel as the service, and now Sweets twirls his giddy new bride around the same floor she walked across a few hours before, the biggest damn smile on his face Booth has ever seen on anyone. He feels a cynical furrow smoothing out of his brow just watching them, but it sets back in just a second later. How did he get to this point where he is the weary old bachelor, sitting on the sidelines of everyone else's lives?

He looks away and right at Cam, who is finishing a sip of champagne left over from the toasts and smiling as she places her glass on a nearby table, until he catches her eye.

She presses her fingers to the corners of her mouth and tugs downwards. "Why the face?"

He holds her gaze for a moment and then forces a grin, his teeth clenched together. "No face, see?"

"Yeah, that's not fooling anyone - least of all me."

"What do you want me to say, Cam?"

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever will get you out of this funk?"

He cuts a withering look at her but she is unperturbed.

"Talk to me," she offers, pressing a friendly hand to his knee for a second.

"OK." He knocks back the rest of his scotch and sucks in a breath through his teeth. "My twelve-year-old therapist just got married and I'm a lonely old sap. How's that?"

She looks at him a little bit like he's insane and a lot like he's a big cry-baby. "Well you know what you can do about that, don't you?"

"Cam-"

"I'm serious, Seeley. I know you've spent so long carrying this around it's become second nature but it's time to stop. It's time to do something about it."

He looks down at his hands a moment, hanging limp between his knees. "Leave it alone, Cam," he mutters.

She waits a beat, before turning into him a little, lowering her voice. "I'm sorry, champ, but I can't do that. I've been your friend for too long to just sit here and… look, I know you won't admit to being scared so I'm gonna do it for you."

"Cam," he says, firmly and holding her gaze. "Don't." She watches him for long moments, and he finally shuts his eyes and sits back in his chair with a sigh. When he opens them his gaze is drawn immediately to his partner, sitting across the room with Angela, a look of consternation on her face. God only knows what is going on there.

The weight of weeks, of months spent carrying this around inside him is suddenly more than he can bear. He's certain, with some embarrassment, that if he doesn't let it out he'll cry – and all it's taken is a friend asking if he's OK. "There's stuff," he says gruffly. "Stuff you don't know."

Cam shakes her head, her eyes wide. "Stuff?"

"Stuff that's happened." He reaches for his scotch and is disappointed to find it empty. "Ah. I can't talk about this right now. Forget it."

"Seeley, you're worrying me."

He laughs. "Just leave it, please."

"I can't."

"What?"

"I can't. I'm your friend. You see your friend struggling, you help him."

"That simple, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Not here, OK? Now is not the time. We'll talk, but not now. Thank you."

"Yeah, right. So what, I give you time to put your shield back up?"

"Cam-"

She pulls a face. "See-ley."

"Please, just-"

"You love her."

He snaps. He's angry, so angry. Not with Cam, not really, but she'll bear the brunt. "Of course I do, you know I do, but it's not enough!"

He has spoken in a harsh whisper, anger barely restrained, and Cam recoils. She seems to realize this is going to be a whole different kind of talk than she thought. "Oh. My God. You told her."

"I can't have this conversation, Cam. Not now. Not here. Don't make me."

"When was this?"

He slumps back in his chair and he can see it all over her face: her big, strong friend, a broken man. Her concern is clear and, despite his reticence, it touches him.

"A few months ago," he admits.

"A few months? Oh…"

He knows it probably explains a hell of a lot. He watches as moments she has probably struggled to put into context over the last few weeks slot in like missing puzzle pieces.

"That's what this has all been about," she says finally.

He nods, but for appearances sake, "What?"

"The dating."

He cuts her a weary gaze. "I told her I had to move on," he explains. And then he laughs, but he's painfully aware that it's a crazy kind of laugh, born of an emotion the direct opposite of happiness.

She shakes her head. "But what did she say?"

"Basically that she's not good enough for me." He's laughing harder now and she frowns, resting a hand on his arm.

"Seeley."

"Camille," he drawls. "What's the matter, am I making a scene?"

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry you're hurting," she tells him, and it shuts him down a moment, the laughter ceasing as he crosses his arms at his chest. "But I have to say I'm not shocked by her reaction, especially if – how did you… I mean-"

He sits up. Women's intuition. Can't beat it. "Wow. You hit the nail right on the head, you know that?"

She raises an eyebrow but waits for him to continue.

He doesn't see the point in disappointing her now. "I screwed up. I did it all wrong – I said it all wrong. All that time. All the waiting and the hoping and I blew it."

He rakes a hand over his hair and swallows. "I need another drink." He leans into her, hunched over the table and presses a finger to the ivory table-cloth. "D'you know, I blamed Sweets that first week. He pushed me into it, he said I had to take a gamble on us. I'm the gambler."

Cam sits up straight. "I'll kill him. I don't care if it's his wedding day."

But Booth shakes his head sadly. "My fault." He rubs a hand over his face and groans. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I've always known you don't push her. Don't push."

Cam leans her elbow on the table beside him and tilts her head. "What happened – where did all the talk of gambling come from?"

Booth rests his chin in his hands. "Can we talk about this some other time?" he asks quietly, feeling the fight draining out of him.

"Just spit it out, Seeley. We're halfway there already."

A soft laugh blows out of him before he sits back in his seat, waiting for her to settle beside him. "We went to see him about his stupid book."

"The one about the two of you. What happened to that, anyway? I thought he was just about ready to publish?"

"Yeah see that's the thing. He didn't know about our first case – he had it wrong. And… talking about that brought some stuff up."

He feels Cam's eyes on him for long moments. "Something happened back then, didn't it? Between you and Brennan? At the start?"

He knows he's technically on safe ground – the early relationship he and Cam enjoyed was history by that point and it's not like anything really happened with Bones, but it's where the conversation is heading that he dreads as he nods. "Yeah – not that but – I liked her, right away. And… there was this kiss. One of those kisses-" He sighs. "I don't think you want to hear the rest of this."

"I'm a big girl, Seeley," she assures him. "And… if it helps, as soon as I came here… Well, I always knew you were in love with her."

"Cam-"

"Hey," she says, her hand landing on his arm again. "I love you, big guy. What you and I had was something… but we were never that one big thing. We both know that."

He rests his head in his hand a moment and there's another sigh before he admits, "Bones, she was. Is. She is. She's that one. Right from the start."

He doesn't want to meet Cam's eyes, but she just says, "And that's what you told her, isn't it?"

He nods. "Like I said. I screwed up."

"Oh, Seeley."

"She told me I think I'm her protector, but that I'm the one that needs protecting, from her. That she doesn't know how to be this person that can love me forever." He laughs. "Do you know the really fucking crazy thing? It only made me love her more."

Cam nods. "Hell, after hearing that I think I'm in love with her."

Booth looks at her like she's crazy. She must be crazy.

"There really is nothing she wouldn't do for you," Cam explains. "I've seen it before." She looks away, her mind clearly on another time, but he's fixated on now.

"Except love me."

"Oh, she loves you," Cam tells him. "You know she does. She just can't tell you that she'll love you forever. Hell, she can't tell you she'll love you next week with any degree of certainty. Think about it - most people would do it without thinking – even if none of them can truly know how they'll feel down the line – but the thought of doing that terrifies her. She can't work with 'ifs' and 'maybes'."

"But I don't care – I don't care about that. All I need is her, right now."

Cam sits back and grins. "And that is what you should have told her."

He stares at her a moment. He's not an idiot. He's thought the same thing over-and-over, ever since that night.

Cam is nodding, and he's pretty sure there's some more of that sage advice coming his way. "You know what, Sweets was right."

Or not. "What now?"

"You were locked in some kind of crazy stalemate. Someone had to do something to snap you out of it, and short of one of us banging your heads together it had to be you. You just… did it in a really, really stupid way."

"Gee thanks." He'll be sure to remember that when he goes for take two. He shakes his head. He'd love to have the courage, but he just can't imagine her reacting any differently than the way she did last time and Cam's right - he'll admit it. He's scared. Beyond scared. He's fucking terrified. He can't see that look on her face again. He can't take it.

"Try again," Cam says, like she can read his thoughts. In a reading-his-thoughts-and-ignoring-them kind of way.

"I can't."

"Man up, Booth," she tells him, a little angry. "So you screwed up. Do it again, but better."

He laughs. He actually laughs. He has no idea where his head is at anymore. But he shakes his head. "It has to be her," he lets out. "I can't."

"Okay, yeah – so you want me to go book this place for 2030? Because that's how long we'll be waiting."

He lifts his head to protest, but she cuts him off with a look and brings out the big guns. "That tumor could have killed you."

He sucks in an involuntary breath and feels his jaw tighten. "Cam-"

"You got a second chance," she presses on. "And I know - I know you're scared. But this is no way to live."

He meets her gaze and in the dark eyes that have held him pinned with many an emotion over the years, there is only concern. He has barely seconds to contemplate the truth of her words before there is someone before them.

He knows it's Bones even before he lets his gaze slide up the clingy dress that has been driving him nuts ever since he picked her up from her apartment. Maybe he smells her perfume, or maybe he just knows where she is at any given moment. Bones-dar. He almost laughs but, after the conversation he just had he feels a little sick and Bones looks a lot serious.

"I'd like to dance," she tells him, all matter-of-fact. Her shoulders are a straight line in the inky blue of her dress, underscoring her words. Pay attention, they say. He snaps up in his seat, ramrod straight, and ignores Cam's chuckle.

"It's called the first dance for a reason, Bones," he jokes, hoping to diffuse whatever it is that has painted a worry-line between her brows. "We can't exactly interrupt."

"I believe it is customary for guests to join the bride and groom on the dance floor after an acceptable period of time," she states.

"She's got you there," Cam agrees, nodding to the floor, where several couples now spin around Mr and Mrs Sweets.

Bones smiles, pleased, and holds out her hand. "Dance with me?"

They fit together too well; his hand at her hip, hers at his shoulder, their others pressed palm to palm. It's like no matter how many times they falter they'll always pick the steps back up; they know them by heart. When he meets her gaze, it's curious and Booth gets that familiar feeling that she is measuring him up for something.

He looks away as Sweets swings by and startles as Daisy bounces free of her husband to wrap her arms around both him and Bones, squealing in his ear, "I'm so glad you guys are here!"

She giggles as Sweets twirls her away and Booth can't help but smile. "You gonna let her get away with that?"

His partner smiles and squeezes his hand. "I can forgive her exuberance. It's been a nice day."

He blinks at her in surprise. "What, no 'marriage is an antiquated ritual' yadda yadda?"

She shrugs. "I have come to accept that an individual's reasons for getting married may include those other than the traditional, practical or financial."

"You're kidding?" He wonders if she'll ever cease to amaze him (freak him out).

"I am not."

To Booth this would once have been life-altering, hell, life-affirming information. Now it kind of makes his head hurt with the effort of putting this bit of his partner together with all the other little bits that seem at odds with each other lately. And it definitely makes his heart hurt. How is he supposed to accept that he can't be with her when she says things like that?

She fixes him with a steady look. "You're surprised."

He swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, Bones – I'm surprised."

She gazes at him with utter focus, like they're the only two people in the world. "You're still hurting."

She winces when his hand involuntarily tightens on hers and he has to make an effort to relax his fingers. "Bones-"

She looks away, somewhere over his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

"Please," he whispers. "Not here."

"But, I thought this would be an appropriate time?"

He presses his face to hers so he can talk low and only she will hear. "For what? Bringing all that up again? Really? At Sweets' wedding?"

She pulls away, frowning. "No, I – I'm not explaining myself very well."

"Care to start?" He knows he sounds cruel. But he can't quite believe they're having this conversation in the middle of the dance floor at their friends' wedding, with everyone they know sitting around with a ringside-view.

Bones swallows and looks down, and his traitorous heart aches for her. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Do you want to go outside, or-"

"I hurt you," she says. "And I was only trying to do the opposite all along." He opens his mouth to speak, but she pushes on. "We're changing, you and I. Our friendship has become awkward and-"

His heart drops into his stomach. "Bones, please don't tell me we can't work together anymore."

"But that's just it, Booth. I can see a time coming – and soon – where you will tell me we can't work together and I think… I…"

He's the subject of that measuring stare again. He's pretty sure she's working up to something big.

Her hand tightens on his shoulder. "Am I correct in assuming that your efforts to move on have failed?"

"Bones," he growls. "I can't do this." He tries to pull away but she holds him tight.

"You were very honest with me that night, Booth. Please."

He shuts his eyes. Screw it. Cam's right. Time to try again for a different outcome, no matter how insane that makes him. He's going nuts anyway. "I don't want to move on," he admits, voice so quiet she leans in to catch what he says. They are barely dancing now, swaying on the spot.

She pulls back a little. "That's good."

He stares at her, brows drawn into a frown. "What?"

"I didn't like seeing you with someone else, Booth," she admits. "And I don't know what to say – I know it's selfish when I have so little to offer, but Angela says I'm not protecting you. She says I'm hurting you worse than anything else could. And for myself, well I… I've found that being unsure of us, of what we are, has brought me a great deal of pain."

"Bones-"

"Please don't speak, or I won't…" She takes a deep breath. "The fact remains that I cannot tell you that I will love you in thirty, forty, fifty years. I cannot say we will be together then, because I have no idea how to test such a hypothesis." Her eyes widen. "Other than day-by-day."

They're not moving anymore, it's official. This isn't dancing, it's a hug. Booth slides his hands across warm satin to the small of her back and drops his head to her shoulder. "What?" he whispers, barely daring to hope.

"I can only offer you now - now and tomorrow. Day-by-day. Is that enough for you?" She presses her face against his. "Please say it's enough."

He can't speak. When he finally lifts his head they both have tears in their eyes and he is reminded exactly where they are. At that moment, by some merciful act of God, the band finish their song and someone takes over the microphone and calls Sweets and Daisy to cut the cake. The guests leave their chairs and swell around them on the floor and by the time the knife is hitting the bottom of the platter Booth is halfway down the hall beyond the door, tugging his partner behind him.

Outside, there is a lush garden. The place is like a pre-arranged Disney cliché – moonlight, a dusting of stars above, flickering candles lighting twisty little paths that disappear into the inky black of short, clipped hedgerows.

Booth barely notices, but Bones takes it all in beside him and nods. "Appropriately romantic."

He laughs out loud, the first sound he has been able to make since she said… what he can hardly believe she said. He turns to her and crushes her to him, feeling her breath leave her in a rush.

"It's enough, it's enough," he tells her, his face buried in her hair. "I just need you – just you. No promises."

She clings just as tight, her arms wrapped around him beneath his suit jacket, and nods her head. He can feel her tears wetting his shirt, imagines he could even feel her heart beating if he tried, and they stand like that for the longest time, just holding each other.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, eventually. "For what happened before – and I still can't promise that I'm not going to mess this up."

"Hey." He pulls away. "No promises, remember?"

"And it's enough?"

He gazes down at her. "More than."

She smiles, and laughs, just a little. "Good. That's – that's good."

And he laughs too. "God, Bones." He lifts his hand to settle at her neck. "I can't believe this is happening. Are we drunk?"

She ponders his question. "I've had two glasses of champagne. Danish courage."

"Dutch." He grins.

"Dutch," she laughs. Then she gives him a slow smile. "Do you think you're maybe going to kiss me?"

He chuckles, or as close as he can come to it without bursting into tears. "I think maybe I am."

"We're all alone," she murmurs, pressing close to him.

"We're all alone," he agrees, voice soft.

She watches him for a moment. "If I promise to kiss you back will you hurry– mmph…"

He smiles against her mouth and she allows it for approximately three seconds before she pulls away and shakes her head at him. "I was talking."

"Yeah, you were," he laughs.

Then she leans into him and swallows his smile with soft lips and sweet breath, and his fingers clutch at the silk of her dress and she slides her arms around his neck and they're dancing to their own beat, outside in the moonlight, past the little candles and beneath the stars.

~o~

Only three weeks later they are dancing again. "I'll never get tired of this," he murmurs into her hair; her soft sigh her only answer.

Much has changed between them since the wedding – they fall asleep and wake up beside each other, he is amassing a healthy collection of socks in one of her bedroom drawers, and he knows her body as intimately as he knows her mind. But this secret dance, it goes on. This. This is for them, between them, and he's not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. He's waited too long.

TBC…