THE COLORS OF CANTABRIA
"Do you ever just sit on the beach, pretend there's no such thing as skeletons?"
1x06
I.
Temperance Brennan was a very responsible adult. She got her flu shots on time, she knew the limits of her alcohol tolerance, and she was very serious about nutrition and sun protection. Booth had gotten that piece of information long ago, when one of their first cases had sent them to the wilderness of Washington state. Whenever he had been close to her, he'd been able to smell it. Sunscreen on her skin. He'd barely known her back then, had yet to become accustomed to her very own scent and the strange way he seemed to gravitate towards her. But he recognized the whiff of sunscreen.
Over the years, he had found the very same scent many times – in deserts and woods and once on a pier.
However, while smelling it was oddly familiar, Booth had never seen her applying the lotion on her skin, and maybe that was the reason why he couldn't stop watching her.
He was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her bikini. Or the beach they were currently lying on; an umbrella, two towels, and sunglasses their companions.
A beach with fine sand, rugged rocks, and crashing waves. A beach that looked like straight out of his dream holidays.
On his left side, Booth could see the mountain range. A hundred shades of green covered the cliffs and stones, with griffon vultures circling in the air. Apparently, they were very rare in this part of the world, but one colony was living in the mountains high above them. On his right side, Booth could spot soft dunes and pale grass dotted with fragrant flowers. He knew that over there in the dunes, there was a path leading towards the small camping spot, knew that you could collect wild blackberries left and right while walking back to the trailers and vans.
Straight ahead, there was the ocean, a rolling mass of green and white and glittering blue. Right next to him, however, was the most spectacular view of all, the one he couldn't get enough of. His partner, wearing a bikini, braids, and the most adorable expression ever, as she tried to reach the middle of her back. He'd never seen her like this, so casual, so windswept, and something inside of him reacted to her, deeply so, and ever since she'd first stepped out of their camping van an hour ago looking like this, he'd tried to put his reaction into context. So far, he had failed and couldn't stop staring.
"Booth, could you please..."
Her request finally tore him out of his reverence, but then he noticed the tube of sunscreen in her hand and the plea on her face. He shuddered, shaking his head.
"Forget it. I'd die for you, I'd kill for you. But I'm not getting that stuff all over my hands."
The furrow on her brow deepened.
"Why?"
"Why? Because it's sticky and greasy at the same time. That shouldn't even be possible."
She rolled her eyes.
"That's ridiculous. Besides, you should really put on some as well."
"Nope. I'm getting a tan."
"All you're getting is a sunburn. Please?" She added a pout to her plea. "Can you do my back, please?"
He shook his head more firmly.
"Nope. Sorry."
"Booth. You've been watching me for the past twenty minutes."
"Whoa, I was dozing, Bones."
"I can see through your sunglasses. Do you really wanna look at my red, blistered skin tomorrow, knowing you could have prevented it?"
"You can't guilt me into this."
She sighed dramatically and wiggled her toes.
"Fine. Since you have to be so stubborn, I'm just gonna ask one of the surfers over there."
She got up, but before she could set a foot onto the sand, he grabbed her hand, tugging her down again.
"Where's the grease? Give it to me."
Puzzlement washed over her face.
"I don't understand..."
He gritted his teeth and squeezed some of the sunscreen into his palm, warming it up a bit.
"Surfers," he finally spat out, and she regarded the slim figures in their neoprene suits. "To wear a beard like that, you should be able to chop down trees. What you should not do is mix it with a ponytail. Ah, well, the ladies seem to like it. So maybe I'm just getting old."
"Are you jealous?"
"Jealous? Nah. But I don't want their salt-crusted, pot-smoking hands all over your soft skin."
And then his hands were on her, spreading sunscreen and sensations all over her back. Brennan shivered and tried to catalog the feeling of his palms on her bare skin. There was warmth, there was the roughness of his fingertips and there was tenderness in the way he was moving over her body. She knew him by heart, but her knowledge stopped right after friend and partner, right before something else entirely. She touched him for comfort, touched him for medical reasons. His hands touching her without barriers was a first.
"Just for the record, I asked for your help first," she murmured, sucking in a breath as he lifted the straps of her bikini top just a few inches to reach the skin underneath. "That's very thorough, thank you."
He mumbled something incoherently before removing his hands.
"Alright, you're covered."
"Thank you."
He held up his greasy palms.
"I'm just gonna take a dip in the ocean to remove this."
She nodded, for once unable to formulate words. Her back was still tingling, as she watched Booth walking towards the water. Not so far away from her blanket, the Atlantic Ocean was showcasing its strength. On the right side of their little beach, the waves were lapping at the sand almost gently, luring dogs and swimmers into the water. On the left side however, big waves collided with rutted rocks, causing the water to explode in mighty bursts, over and over again, and the thunder-like sound was both daunting and oddly calming.
She could spot Booth's strong form a lot closer to the left side than she liked, so she lifted her sunglasses and kept on watching, purely for safety reasons. Without hesitation, he stepped into the water, giving himself to the ocean. Brennan sighed, and the seconds stretched, as she waited – successfully so – for his head to reappear.
Her partner was a confusing man. Most of the time, he was very brave, but every now and then, he did something incredibly stupid; stupid like breaking into the locked-down Jeffersonian, shooting a clown or going for a casual swim in the wild Atlantic. Over the course of their partnership, their friendship, she'd gotten used to him and his messing ways, but spending almost every hour of the day with him gave "confusing" a new meaning.
He took great care of his body, she already knew that, but now she saw him leaving for his daily run. His eating habits, however, stood in direct contradiction to anything healthy and his refusal to use sun protection made no sense.
Another thing that had puzzled her at first was the contradiction between tidiness and untidiness. Only two days into their impromptu camping trip, a dizzying array of Booth items was littering their small van. Recalling their circus experience, that was as expected. The inside of his duffel bag, though, was every incarnation of neatness. Socks arranged by color, boxers and shirts tightly rolled. Ranger, popped into her mind. Army. Dust and heat and order and surviving. She bit her lip, as another piece of him made sense to her, and her heart ached a bit.
Brennan shifted to find a more comfortable position on her beach blanket, her eyes still not leaving Booth.
The heart was a muscle and while it could ache, that was not the kind of ache she was experiencing so much of late. And was it even an ache? Her brow furrowed as Booth dove into the ocean once again. There was, for the lack of a better word, movement inside of her. Little waves rolling in her chest, lapping on her skin. Causing sensations, ones that, in some irrational way, were linked to him.
Part of her was curious to find out more about the source of those sensations, part of her was hesitant. And that was confusing in itself because, usually, Temperance Brennan never shied away from learning a truth. Yet, here she was, 3,700 miles away from DC, unexpectedly sharing a small camper van with her partner, reluctant to solve a mystery.
And about that trip... After the success of the London exchange, the request from the Instituto de Toxicología y Ciencias Forenses de Cantabria in Spain had been too good to let the opportunity pass by. Booth and Brennan had spent four days in Santander, giving lectures, sharing anecdotes of their collaboration, mingling with fellow scientists and crime fighters. After their last scheduled evening dinner, summer wind in her hair, a few glasses of wine in her system, it had been easy to persuade her to extend their stay, to rent a van and explore the green-blue coast of Cantabria for a few days.
Even in her buzzed state, Brennan had remembered a conversation from the early days of their partnership four or five years ago.
Do you ever just sit on the beach, pretend there's no such thing as skeletons?
She'd never done that, didn't do that. So, she'd said yes.
And while, at last, he emerged from the water, walking towards her with a smile and sea salt on his skin, it was there again.
Movement.
-BONES-
"For the love of God, can't you just pick anything?"
"I'm a vegetarian, Booth. Ve-ge-tarian."
"You have a hunting license."
"Yes. And deep down in the woods, miles away from civilization, that skill could be a lifesafer."
"Bones," he leaned closer to her and whispered, "we are miles away from civilization."
She wrinkled her nose.
"No, we're not. This spot might not be on every map, but there's an ATM over there. This is civilization."
He sighed, casting another glance at the menu in his hands.
"What if I take the sea bream and you eat my potatoes and salad, then?"
"That's acceptable."
"And more sangria."
"Most definitely."
While Brennan placed their order, foreign words rolling from her tongue, Booth let his eyes wander around once more. It was the only restaurant in the little village, and is was barely more than a garden with ten tables and a barbeque grill. There were about three dishes on the menu, and nobody spoke English. He loved it. Taking a sip of the sweet, fruity wine in front of him, he finally let his gaze rest on her, offering a smile.
"Where did you learn to speak Spanish?"
"Guatemala."
He nodded.
"You wanna talk about it."
She pondered his request for a moment before shaking her head.
"No. Too much death and dust and fear. But I learned some valuable lessons over there, speaking Spanish being one of them."
He lifted his glass, touching hers with a soft clang.
"To sunny days."
She laughed out loud.
"Maybe a tad too sunny, if your back is any indication."
He grumbled.
"You had to be right about that one, didn't you?"
She shrugged.
"UV rays, Booth. It still amazes me that you are even surprised you got a sunburn."
"It's a tan."
"More of a lobster tan."
"Hey, you're making fun of me!"
"I believe I am."
Pride washed over her face, and every ounce of anger vanished. He chuckled with her.
"Lobster tan, huh?"
"It's something Parker said the other day while visiting my pool. Your son is highly amusing, Booth."
"Yeah, he is. Hmm, do you think I could borrow some of your fancy lotion later? I have to say, it itches a bit."
And while she nodded, taking another sip of wine, Booth felt a tug right in the middle, as if something ancient was pulling him towards the woman sitting across him. Inhaling deeply, he tried to shrug it off, tried to blame it on the wine, the foreign sky, the colors of Cantabria.
It's not as if he hadn't thought about it before. It being them. To be honest, it had been one of his very first thoughts back then, even before she had kissed and left him in the rain. Her beauty had stunned him as much as her sharp mind and her fearlessness. Then something else had happened. She had become his partner, his friend. He had gotten to know her. And between then and now, she had become way too important to risk a gamble.
Booth knew that, had drawn a line. Still... As the wind was curling her hair, as they were sharing one dish for two in this enchanted garden so far away from home, he couldn't help but feel the pull, wondering if, maybe, she felt it too.
-BONES-
They were full and moderately tipsy, when they left the restaurant two hours later. The night sky was dotted by stars, the cobblestones were slippery in the moonlight. The vultures had long stopped circling, and cicadas were leaving their songs in the air. Even slightly inebriated, she was finding her way on the uneven path easily, and he admired her for her grace as he stumbled along beside her. Soon, their little camper van came into view, perched so picturesquely on its cliff between the ocean and the moon. Down there, at the beach, people were laughing and singing next to a bonfire.
He sighed contentedly.
"You wanna join them?" She asked, looking at him with her big blue eyes.
"I'd rather listen to your sunscreen lecture a million more times, thank you very much."
She chuckled.
"You really don't like those surfers."
"I don't like the way they look at you," he admitted, and uttering those words was easier than it should have been.
She cast him a curious glance, and he held it for a moment before shrugging.
"I guess I'm possessive of my partner."
"I know you are," she stated, and her voice was as silken as the night.
He swallowed hard, licking his lips, blinking once, twice, looking at her and wondering how someone could be so utterly beautiful inside out.
"Bones..."
"Let me get the lotion for your back."
Then she was gone, taking the enchanted moment with her.
"Oh boy," he whispered, realizing he was in trouble.
Two hours later, Booth was still awake. Beside him, Brennan had long succumbed to sleep, and the sound of her breathing softly in and out mingled with the noise of the ocean. She had covered his red skin with the soothing lotion, they had gotten ready for bed side by side in the narrow space, he had watched her braiding her hair once again.
They had done this before, sharing a trailer, and even during the circus case, the nights with her beside him like this had been long. She was so practical about sharing a bed, his partner, so rational, but even though they had fallen asleep with a lot of room for the Holy Spirit between them, somehow, he had always woken up with his arms around her. Just like this morning. Just like, he had little doubt, tomorrow morning.
Booth liked holding her; liked it beyond the fact that he was a warm-blooded male and she an attractive woman. Beyond the fact even that he cared about her as a partner.
He sighed once more, as, suddenly, a thunderbolt tore him out of his musings. Seconds later, the rain started, filling the van with its surprisingly loud staccato. Beside him, she stirred.
"Booth?" Her voice was sleepy, and he reached for her hand, clasping it gently.
"A thunderstorm," he replied, equally softly.
"Are we safe?"
"I think so. After all, this is a designated camping spot."
She hummed, her thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.
"How's your back?"
"A bit sore, but better, I think."
The hand in his spread its fingers and, effortlessly, his phalanges slipped between hers. It was a match like the night and the stars, like the ocean and its waves. Booth felt something and his gut told him, she felt it, too.
"Booth?"
"Hmm?"
"Is this us?"
His heart skipped a beat, and he chose his words very carefully.
"Hmm. I think it's the holiday version of us. A bit more sandy and sun-kissed than the original, a little more reckless, but, yeah, us."
She pondered his words for a moment.
"Booth, I never had this. A friend like you, holidays like ours. I... I respect you so much and I value our partnership above anything else. But..."
"But?"
"I like the sandy version as well. Being with you like this, touching you... it feels so natural. And I don't know what that means."
With a sigh, he tugged at her hand, and then she was in his arms, and he curled himself around her, his nose in her hair, his palm at the small of her back.
Lightning illuminated the darkness, and for the fraction of a moment, he could see her in his arms. His fingertips found the gap between her top and her shorts, whispering over warm skin.
"I know," he finally said. "I know."
His head moved on its own accord, and when his lips brushed her temple, he could smell sea salt on her skin. She burrowed her nose further into his shirt and shivered.
"This is not a guy hug," she finally stated drily, and he had to chuckle.
He kissed her head again, once, twice, lost for words. Minutes passed, maybe more. After a sweet while, her breathing evened out again, his hand came to a halt on the small of her back and his eyelids grew heavy.
The thunderstorm moved further south.
Booth and Brennan slept.
Eventually, the cicadas fell silent.
And in the early morning light she crawled out of his arms, careful not to wake him. Gnawing her lip, she lingered for a moment, watching her sleeping partner, wondering a million things at once.
To be continued…
Remember me? Then let's take a little trip to Spain.