42. Rain
They were a tangle of limbs as they crowded through the door of his apartment, lips still locked tightly, kisses hot and heavy as she guided him through the apartment and into his bedroom, pushing him down on the bed, following him down just as a flash of lightning illuminated the room.
Her hair was plastered to her face and cheeks, soaked through with rain, much like his shirt, now sticking to his body after he'd given up his jacket in favour of keeping her dry— despite her protests, what was so wrong about wanting to take care of the woman he loved, who just so happened to be carrying his child?
It had been barely a week since she'd told him, and they'd finally found time so he could take her on their first official date. Only, when they'd left his apartment three hours earlier, with no car or umbrellas, they hadn't expected the thunder storm that was now raging. They'd taken a detour to the diner to have pie for dessert and had gotten caught in the rain on the way back, neither had really cared as memories of their first kiss had made them both smile before he'd pulled her against him, lips claiming hers.
She'd tasted like wine, and pie, and rain, and Bones, and kissing her in the darkness of his bedroom, her features occasionally highlighted by a sudden burst of lightning, she tasted like wine, and pie, and rain, and Bones, and him.