V.
The heat period went by, rewarding the inhabitants of Washington D.C. with mild and golden late summer days.
Some time in August Brennan's publisher had become quite persistent about her bestselling author's presence at some public readings.
Brennan wasn't particularly fond of events like that, but understood that it belonged to being a successful author, so finally she gave in and committed herself to one reading. Somehow it had slipped her attention that it would take place in Connecticut, though. Well, even small towns on the East coast could have their charm. Unfortunately, this one did not. As little as it had adequate accommodations.
Upon arriving on Thursday evening, Brennan cast one glance at the motel. Undoubtedly, the house had seen better days. At least Brennan hoped so, reluctant to think one could build houses as shabby as this one in the first place.
Exploring the tiny room was a quick affair, only a bed, a single chair and a little wardrobe decorated the space. The wallpaper was yellow, and the unstable floor lamp did nothing to improve the atmosphere.
Brennan was exhausted, annoyed and separated from Booth, so she decided to call it a night. Hoping that the morning sun would brighten her mood as well, she slid under the covers.
The bed was too soft; nevertheless, the wooden frame cracked with every move, the pillows waving disturbingly around her. After some minutes of tossing and turning, somehow her feet got caught in the pajama pants. With a melodramatic sigh Brennan adjusted her clothes, kicking the cottony fabric around her mercilessly.
If Booth had been there, he would have enfolded her in his arms, smiled at her pouting face, mumbling something about her cuteness factor and rubbing her back in slow circles. And everything would be good again. However, he wasn't there.
In an attempt to ease her frustration, Brennan took refuge in the last and strongest remedy she knew. Somewhere in the contents of her overnight bag was his old FBI shirt. Years of wearing it had made the fabric incredibly thin and soft. Before Brennan pulled the garment over her head, she brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply, a smile brightening her features.
A year ago she had believed in the evanescence of love. In satisfying biological urges with no emotional strings attached. In living alone. Then Seeley Booth had kissed her underneath an old oak tree, and her belief system had been shaken. Now she was one of those women who found comfort in her lover's shirt. A year ago it would have disturbed her. Tonight she only snuggled into the fabric, and the familiar scent lulled her into sleep.
The next morning she awoke to the sound of raindrops against her window. The rain increased, and by the time Brennan was answering more or less intelligent questions about her latest novel, her protagonists' relationship and the case storyline, a full-blown storm had approached. Due to the weather, every flight in the area had been canceled.
Unwilling to spend one more night in the middle of nowhere, Brennan decided to rent a car and drive back to D.C.
By the time it occurred to her, that the ride might take her at least six hours, if not more, she had already passed the state border. And when the car whirled around on a flat tire, leaving her alone in the breaking dawn, she barely had the energy left to kick the stubborn vehicle.
Damn it, she was a famous forensic anthropologist. A best-selling author. A wealthy and independent woman. This was not fair.
Angry tears welled up in her eyes, and blinking them back, all Brennan could think about was Booth. She really wanted a hug right now, and she chastised herself for her weakness. She used to be so strong, but accepting her love for her partner had made her open for other feelings as well. These days it seemed as if she was full of irrational and mushy emotions that banished her reason to a distant corner of her mind.
It wasn't as if she regretted one moment of the last year, truth be told, Brennan didn't even want to imagine a life without Booth anymore, but sometimes she was still struggling to combine the girlfriend with the world-renown forensic anthropologist.
The woman who had attended countless digs in dangerous parts of the world, who once was threatened with machine guns, blinded with a sack over her head – she never would have cried because her boyfriend wasn't available to fix a flat tire, for Christ's sake.
Remembering her yoga classes, she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.
'Okay, Temperance,᾽ she told herself, looking at the breaking dawn with new composure, 'you have three options. Sit here and cry like a baby. Call Booth or anyone else for help. Get a grip and fix this by yourself.᾽
With clear eyes, she took in her surroundings. The sun was almost touching the horizon, and the meadow in front of her was humming with insect activity. Flowers were tilting their heads, ready to fold the petals for the night. It was beautiful, she had to admit, and under different circumstances she might have enjoyed it.
Her mind wandered back to her current options. Crying like a baby was quickly dismissed. Calling Booth felt like the natural choice, but somehow she was reluctant to do so. Ever since he had walked into her life, looking at her with reassuring brown eyes for the first time, Brennan had found out that she used to rely on her partner more and more. A habit that had increased since their intimate relationship had started, fueled by his ridiculous protectiveness when it came towards her.
Suddenly it was very important for Brennan to get out of this mess by herself. After all, changing a tire couldn't be that hard. She had done it at least once in her life. This time she wouldn't let him save her. She would save herself, and by the time he took her into his arms tonight, she would know that she had gained it, that she could be weak without being helpless.
An hour later it was fully dark, and her hands were numb and greasy, as she retightened the last nut in the ray of her flashlight. Brennan was breathing heavily, and when she tucked a curl behind her ear, she left a dark stain on her sweaty face. She had done it. She had fixed the car all by herself. Her chest almost burst with pride, and when she looked at her map, calculating the remaining distance, she figured that she could be home in two hours.
Home.
Where Booth was waiting for her. Well, not actually waiting since he didn't expect her back tonight. However, not for a second did she doubt that he would be happy to see her, just as much as she longed for being reunited with him.
Now that she had proven herself that she wasn't lost without his help, Brennan was fine with surrendering herself to her need for him. She had learned another important lecture tonight: One could need someone without rationally needing them.
Two hours later she parked the rented car in front of their building. It was past midnight, and she felt exhausted beyond belief, but the frustration had vanished.
Opening the door to a dark apartment, she moved carefully not to wake him. No need for Booth to see her before she had gotten a chance to shower. In the dim light of their bathroom, she regarded herself in the mirror. Her face was messed with dried sweat and grease, her hair a tangle of knots. But her eyes were shining back at her with calmness, and she granted her own reflection a smile.
For the first time Brennan realized that she did not have to choose between independence and commitment, that she did not need to change who she was. It dawned on her that Booth's protective behavior might not originate in his belief that she did really need it but rather in his love for her.
Stepping under the spray of the shower, she watched as the dirt on her skin darkened the water until every stain had rinsed down the drain, alongside with her former desperation. Savoring the rich scent of her shower gel, she cleaned her body with the creamy lather, rolling her head, as the tension left her sore shoulders.
She took her time to dry herself thoroughly with the big pale blue towel. Her mind was somewhere between sleep and wake, her body tingling with soothing warmth. Not bothering with drying her hair, she simply toweled it before pulling it into a messy ponytail.
Naked like she was, Brennan switched off the light and padded into the dark bedroom. She could hear his deep breathing and guess his silhouette on the bed.
With a smile, she slipped beneath the covers next to Booth, gravitating towards his warmth. Her hand found his nape on its own accord, gently caressing the short hair she found there. He stirred.
"Hmm, Bones?"
His voice was rough with sleep, and she soothed him with soft whispers and light kisses all over his closed eyelids.
"Sh, go back to sleep, Baby. It's okay."
"What ya doing here?" he murmured.
"I've missed you," she simply said.
His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in strength and warmth. He groaned, as he found nothing but bare skin.
"I've missed you, too. You okay?"
"Yes, I am. More than okay. I just wanted to come back home. I love you."
She spoke with calmness, and even with his sleep-fogged mind Booth could sense a deeper meaning behind her words.
He was tired and barely conscious, but slipping his fingers between her legs was as natural as breathing.
Sex hadn't been on her mind when she had opted against clothes, she merely wanted to feel this man with as little barriers as possible between them. Nevertheless, she opened her legs for him, enjoying the play of his fingers on her. He knew how to touch her. Of course, after all those months he was intimately familiar with her body, but even from day one he had simply known.
Her own hands disappeared in his boxers, searching for his member. She found him all soft and satiny, just as peaceful as his owner. Wrapping her palm around him, gently pumping up and down, Brennan enjoyed the feeling of him growing in her hand.
A sigh left his mouth, telling her that he loved her touching him just as much as she savored his caresses.
Rolling away from his arms, Brennan dove under the covers, pulling down his boxers until she could close her mouth around his half-erect shaft. She licked him lazily, being in no hurry, simply content with his languid response.
Sleepiness fought with the stirrings she created in his lower belly, and Booth had no doubt which one would win the battle when he felt himself fully harden in her warm mouth. The image of Temperance Brennan going down on him usually turned him on like few things else, but tonight there was new depth in her ministrations.
Releasing his pulsating heat with a last suction, she crawled on top of his body, gently lowering herself onto him until he filled her completely.
He smoothed her damp curls with his palms.
"Everything okay, Baby? You seem different somehow."
Rolling her hips slowly, she lowered her lips to his ear, grazing the auricle with her teeth.
"I realized a few things tonight."
His hands came around her hips, cupping her ass tenderly, letting her set the rhythm.
"Good things?"
"Very good things."
Slowly she lifted her hips until they were almost separated before sinking down on him anew. Sweet friction was building.
"Care to share?"
His fingers traveled around her hip one more time, coming to a halt between her parted thighs, pressing into her curls.
"I need you. But I am not weak."
He circled her slowly, finding wetness, spreading it over her sensitive little spot.
"I know, Temperance."
She pressed her breasts into his solid chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath her own.
"Now I know as well."
He searched her mouth, but all he could reach was her cheek, so he showered her with little kisses right there.
"Something happened tonight?"
"Don't worry, not really. I just made peace with myself, I suppose."
Pulling her deeper to his body, he rolled them around until she was spread out underneath him. He was looking at her with sudden earnest.
"You weren't at peace?"
Using the new position to intensify his thrusts, Booth pushed into her deeply, and she gasped, crossing her ankles behind his back.
"I was. This relationship is... you are so important to me, but somehow I always thought I'd have to change."
She whimpered, as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, clenching briefly around him.
"Tonight I realized that might not be true. I can still be myself."
Booth looked at the woman beneath him in wonder. Sometimes her track of thoughts irritated him earnestly.
"Of course, Temperance. I never ever want you to change. I love you just the way you are."
He pushed into her once.
"Brilliant."
Twice.
"Stubborn."
Trice.
"Complicated, warmhearted, mine, mine, mine."
She whimpered at his words, lost in the whirlwind he created.
"Yes, oh, yes."
Her back arched, as the pumped into her with full force one more time, then she went rigid in his arms, tightening all around him just when he lost himself in her welcoming silkiness.
Finally he found her lips, and the softness of the kiss betrayed the power with which they had just come apart in each other. Holding her face in both hands, he kissed her deeply, taking everything she had to give, giving just as much right back.
When he moved to roll down from her, she locked her limbs behind his back, refusing to let him go.
"No, please stay like this one more moment."
Giving in, Booth placed his cheek on her rounded chest.
"Bones, sometimes you shake my world. You say things like that, and I realize that I have no idea what's going on in your head. I'm worried that one day you might come to the conclusion that the only other option is to turn your back on me."
Brennan lifted her head in shock.
"No! No. Booth, look at me. That is never an option. I admit that I'm not very eloquent when it comes to verbalizing my feelings, but believe me, I would never run from you. I'm still learning, but I realized that I'm okay with needing you."
"That's good. You know," he hesitated, "I need you as as well."
"You do?"
Surprise was evident on her face.
"Of course I do. What do you think? I need to be around you, hold you, hear your laughter, kiss you. Without you I'm not complete."
She looked at him with honest curiosity.
"Does it make you weak?"
"It does, but it also makes me strong because when I have you, everything is better than it could ever be without you."
Processing his words, she gnawed her lower lip.
"See, Booth, you simply know these things. You recognize the feeling and can tell what it means. I can't, I have to figure it out. That doesn't mean we're not on the same page. Just... sometimes it takes me longer to get there."
Finally understanding her, Booth gave her a tentative smile.
"Be patient with me, Temperance. I've never been here before."
She frowned.
"You have never been where?"
He waved his hand between the two of them.
"Here. At a place in my life where just everything feels right. Where I love someone else so madly that it scares me sometimes."
"Oh, Booth..."
Temperance Brennan looked at the man lying on top of her with tenderness. Her chest widened with pride that she was this place for him – and she embraced it with everything it implied.
"I'd say we have been pretty successful so far, haven't we."
A smile tugged at his lips, and he had to kiss her.
"More than that, Babe."
Eventually, she loosened her grip on him, allowing him to leave her body. Pulling her into his arms, he tucked her in carefully, placing another soft kiss on her lips.
"Sleep tight, my love."
"Hmm, night, Booth."
-BONES-
When she stirred the next morning, the chirp of birds mingling with the last images of her dream, Brennan felt familiar arms around her, a solid body spooning her from behind. Without opening her eyes, she smiled. Last night's troubles came back to her mind, and like she had promised herself faced with a flat tire and a meadow preparing itself for the night, she allowed herself to enjoy awakening next to Booth.
The fear of being weak had vanished, and she realized that she actually believed that being dependent in some ways wasn't that bad. It didn't mean she was helpless and dependent from every point of view.
Turning around carefully, she studied her partner's sleeping face. His lips were slightly parted, a soft snore escaping his mouth. As always when she watched him asleep, she felt something tug at her heart. This was the face she wanted to see first thing in the morning for as long as she might live, Brennan was certain about that.
It wasn't anthropologically speaking, it couldn't be scientifically proven, but still, she knew it to be true.
His wrinkles were eased in the peace of slumber, and she was pleased to see that no nightmare was haunting him. She hated it when something caused him pain. Brennan thought about the few times in the last year when she had awoken at night because of his struggles and moans, his forehead furrowed and glistening with sweat.
The first time it had shocked her, and she had been unsure what to do about it, but very soon she had overcome her insecurities, had wrapped her arms around him, murmuring soothing sweetness. She had been able to calm him every single time. At first, Brennan hadn't even known if he had been aware that she had done it, but one dark night his eyes had flown open and he had buried his head between her breasts, searching her embrace, almost inhaling her.
Last night he had told her that he needed her. The conscious part of her had been surprised about this revelation, but deep down, in a corner filled with instinct and emotions, she had already known it. And it was okay. She didn't think less of him, didn't assume he was a weak man.
Falling and catching – it was a give and take. Without him, she could still fall, but there wouldn't be anyone to catch her. And she needed to catch him as well, make sure that he was happy and safe.
Lying back on the pillow, Brennan mused about the last year.
When she had suggested their little experiment, she hadn't expected this outcome. Booth had meant a lot to her, and the sexual tension had always been a factor, but she hadn't taken into consideration that she might find this level of commitment and love; she hadn't even known it existed.
Sex with Booth was amazing, satisfying and surprising. She craved his body, and his own desire for her still turned her knees to jelly. However – and if possible – sharing a life with him was the biggest adventure. The little signs of affection that filled their everyday routine. His interest in her thoughts, the stories she had to share. He might not understand every squinty detail when she got carried away, but he never gave her the feeling that she bored him. In reverse, she never tired to hear his opinion.
He had changed her perspective, and not only regarding love, even though this was possibly the biggest change. Love. It existed. And it was eternal, mighty, everything. It created the reaction.
Temperance Brennan had been wrong about something, and it had been her own pleasure to find out how wrong exactly.
A stirring next to her interrupted her early morning musings, and she smiled down at Booth as his eyelids fluttered open.
"Hi, there."
His arms reached out to her subconsciously.
"Hmm. Good morning, beautiful."
He nuzzled her neck lazily, and she giggled at the tickling sensation of his stubble on her soft skin.
"You're awfully awake."
Some more giggles.
"And you were thinking."
She kissed his cheek, rubbing her lips over the roughness she found there.
"I was thinking how lucky I am to have you. You made me believe in love."
"Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend? She looks like you, but she is scary smart and very rational."
His teasing words brought a smile to her face.
"She was replaced by a sentimental sex-maniac who drove six hours last night to sleep in your arms."
One second went by in silence. And another one. Then,
"You did what?"
"Don't be mad. I'm an excellent driver with decent mechanic skills."
"I have to repeat myself, what?"
She waved her hand.
"Never mind. But I have to remind you that you wanted me to be your girlfriend, girl, woman, whatsoever. Now I am, so don't complain."
"Have I told you recently that I don't want you to change for me?"
She bent down to kiss him.
"Yep. Too late. Still want me?"
"Hmm... do I have to decide that right now?"
She slapped him playfully, and he rubbed his arm in mocked hurt.
"Ouch."
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Temperance. Rational or mushy, whatever it is."
His hand cupped her nape to pull her down for another kiss, and she smiled against his lips, her heart singing.
"Any plans for the day?"
"I consider calling Angela. I have an errand to run, and it could be a good opportunity to catch up with my best friend. You?"
"Cuddling and breakfast with my favorite girl. And I'm in the mood to go to the gym."
"Sounds lovely. You're up for a movie tonight? We can make out on the couch."
"Wonderful plan."
It was then that he noticed that she didn't wear any clothes, and suddenly his hands were very busy with worshipping her soft skin, caressing every inch they could reach. The sunny days had darkened her arms and her face, turning the ivory tone into a light caramel, decorated with tiny freckles.
Booth loved discovering those new facts about her. It had been almost a year now, and he couldn't wait to see her in the snow again, her cheeks glowing pink in the cold air, just like he remembered it from their first winter as a couple.
She had given the seasons a new meaning. And not only the seasons.
Thanks to her his life was full of warmth and laughter now; thanks to her he had a home.
People say that things can get old, that the excitement of the novelty wears off some day, leaving nothing behind than commonness. Well, people don't know Temperance Brennan...
An hour later they had made it out of the bed, and while he started the coffee machine, whistling along to the radio, Brennan went in search for her phone, dialing the familiar number.
"Hodgins estate, how can we serve you?"
A smile curved around her lips.
"Hi, Ange, I'm pleased to see how easily you have slipped back into your role as Dr. Hodgins' girlfriend."
"Ah, Sweetie, the benefits, the benefits. But whom am I telling."
"Angela, I need your help to find something. You want to meet me for lunch?"
The artist's curiosity was palpable, even through the phone.
"Sure. This veggie place you love so much?"
"Very convenient. See you later."
"Bye."
Pressing the button to disconnect the call, Brennan walked into the kitchen area, bursting out in laughter. Her partner had wrapped a towel around his naked hips and was busy scrambling eggs.
"Do you mind if I take a picture?"
He turned around, his finger pointing at her.
"Don't you dare!"
And giggles were mingling with the scent of coffee and the sun of one sweet Saturday morning in Washington D.C.
-BONES-
Later that day a sweaty FBI agent unlocked his apartment door, his body tingling and aching after some hours in the gym. He was looking forward to a movie night on the couch, and maybe Bones would give his sore shoulders a massage with this coconut oil of hers.
Opening the door, he called,
"Hey, Babe, I'm back and brought some Thai with me. You're hungry?"
No response.
Maybe lunch with Angela had led to an extended session of girl talk. Well, they could always reheat the food later.
Stepping into the kitchen, Booth stopped mid-track, exhaling sharply, bags dropping to the floor.
There, on the kitchen counter, next to her breakfast cereals and his sports magazine stood a vase. A simple glass vase with a long neck.
And a single lilac branch.
-The End-
Like? Hate? I'm not sure if this series is finished yet or if there will be a fourth story, but so far I cannot see myself writing a wedding. Well, we'll see...