Hey, hey! This was a tweet to celebrate that it's September.
As in the month of the premiere. As in...in just a weeks, hours, days, milliseconds, Booth is going to be back on our tv screens.
As in...heck yeah!
-b&b-
When she wore her lab coat, he kind of liked it. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, but yeah…it was cute. In a 'her' kind of way.
And when she wore those tight jeans and high boots…okay, yeah. Damn it, but she was hot, and he knew it.
And he liked it. A lot. But he was a gentleman. Outside his thoughts, at least.
When she wore skirts, he always had to keep busy. Keep his hands too busy to imagine sliding slowly up her long legs.
Tight or flirty, it didn't matter. His fingers could care less of the difference. They wanted her. He wanted her.
And when she wore her swimsuit, the one time he'd convinced her to come swimming with him and Parker…
Well, he'd had enough new fantasy material to last him for weeks.
Spreading on suntan lotion. Or her hitched around his hips. Or him pressing her to the side. Or helping her shower off chlorine later…
But when she dressed up. When she had some fancy, educational, we're all smarter than you, thing to do.
When she did that, he couldn't ever quite breathe right. It always made him feel about 9 years old.
When his version of beautiful didn't mean naked and sexy. It meant nice. And pretty. And smiling. And not hurt.
And right now, she was giving some speech. About something. Hell if he knew. But he stood there, wine glass in hand. Waiting.
Listening to what she said. Smiling in support when she looked his way. Wondering if he would ever quite measure up to her.
When she was done, she smiled and nodded to the applauding crowd, quickly making her way from the podium.
She sought him out and accepted the wine with a smile. "Thanks, Booth."
He stared at her; he couldn't help it. It seemed more and more lately, he couldn't stop.
In his mind, he continued to wonder…is this it? Is this the night? Will this be the first night of the rest of our lives?
He'd been asking himself that question for years. And it had never quite happened.
"Booth?" she was asking, and he blinked, looking to her and smiling. "Yeah, Bones?"
She set her wine glass on a passing waiter's tray and pressed a hand to his arm. "Let's dance."
His arm felt warm under her touch, despite the layers of his dress shirt and tux jacket. He smiled and pulled her close.
But instead of taking her to the dance floor, he led them out to the private balcony, where strains of the live music hummed through speakers.
She was surprised, but didn't complain as he pulled her closer and they began to dance.
And as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, Booth realized he'd made the right move.
And he thought just maybe…the rest of their lives were going to be fantastic. Starting tonight.
-b&b-