Spoilers/Timeline: Set after, and references to, 4x14 The Princess and the Pear.
A/N: Thanks to le_red_queen for putting this idea in my head and to Alanna1231 for her input and support.
Disclaimer: Do you really think I'd be here if I owned Booth? Title found in Ben Folds' Landed.
"The victim was found in East Potomac Park?" I call out as I hear the door close and grab my kit, moving towards the kitchen.
"Yeah." He stops, putting the file on the counter next to the mug of coffee awaiting him. He's been moving more smoothly in the past few days, but I notice the slight wince as he leans forward.
"Your back is still sore."
"A little." He screws the top on his mug and takes a sip.
"You finished the Vicodin, didn't you?"
"I did, thank goodness."
"Hmm?"
"It slowed my reaction time." I quirk an eyebrow in question, sensing there's some hidden meaning I'm missing, and he clears his throat. "Not really what you want when chasing your garden variety bad guys."
"It wouldn't be such an issue if you would just let me carry a gun." I open the file and continue before he can argue. "You should really see a physical therapist or, at least, a masseuse. I'm sure they could eliminate the lingering pain."
"I don't have the time." He looks at me for a moment before raising an eyebrow, a charm smile settling on his face. "Bones...."
I sigh, knowing I could argue, but the outcome would undoubtedly be the same. "Sit down."
He throws his jacket on the table and settles on the edge of the couch. I pause for a moment, then sit behind him, my thighs brushing against his. I feel him tense and then relax as I begin kneading his latissimus dorsi, slowly working towards where he carries the most pain. This should be awkward, but it's not. In fact, I find that I enjoy getting to help him for once. After all the guy hugs, it's the least I can do.
I let my hands continue to wander, a low hiss escaping him when I press into a particularly sore spot, and find myself thinking of Agent Perotta once again. I can't seem to get the woman off my mind and that, in and of itself, irritates me. I may not be the best at reading people, but I can tell when they're trying to manipulate me and she had certainly been trying to do so with her subtle questioning of my relationship with Booth and her pointed remarks about how I had injured him. I knew Booth didn't feel that way, but it still left me feeling unbalanced, unsure.
"Uh, Bones..."
"Hmmm?" I realize the pressure just isn't cutting it and slide my hands under his tee to knead a knot in the middle of his trapezius. I feel his sharp intake of breath and smile as he relaxes back into me.
"This is wonderful." Somehow, I know he's not talking about the massage - at least not just the massage - and I press into his back more, hoping it conveys what I can't manage to say. The lightness in his voice as he scoots forwards and reaches for his jacket, tells me it has. "That's much better. Thanks..." His hand envelops mine, pulling me forward. Perhaps, more than either of us realize.
