III.
Their plane landed in Dulles at six pm local time, making it almost midnight in Cantabria. After nine days between the ocean and the mountains, the big city smelled stale somehow. She missed the sea salt in the air, missed the sound of the cicadas.
Pulling her cardigan tight around her shoulders, Brennan followed her partner through the airport routine, lost in her thoughts through immigration and baggage claim. It was the best holiday she had ever had, at least as an adult, but while vacations usually offered an escape from real life, this one had rewritten hers entirely – and not only hers.
Her hand found Booth's and, instinctively, he leaned into her with a smile, placing a kiss on her temple. Smiling – he did that a lot these days, ever since that night when she had first told him that she could do this. Them.
Temperance Brennan felt an almost absurd sense of pride every time she caught a glimpse of him like this. She might have two doctorates, might be world-renowned in her field – but putting that happy glow on his face was a whole new kind of achievement.
Booth's SUV felt familiar, even comforting, as they merged onto Dulles Access Road. The traffic was light for once, the sky above them streaked in fading hues of orange and gray. Brennan stared out of the window, her chin resting on her knuckles. Everything felt muted now – the colors, the air, even the sound of the city around them. Washington was bigger than she remembered.
They didn't speak much. It wasn't uncomfortable, but the silence wasn't quite light either. It felt like their bodies were still adjusting to being back in a different time zone, in a different life.
"Do you want to come over?" Booth asked softly, glancing at her as they neared the exit. "I know you're probably tired, but I could make tea or…"
"Yes," she said, immediately, surprising them both a little. "Even though it's not practical with my suitcase full of sundresses and sand. I don't have clothes for tomorrow."
His hand sought hers, squeezing gently.
"I've got a clean suit in the trunk. We could go to your place. You could unpack your suitcase. I could stay …"
She hesitated – not because she didn't want him there, but because she did. The thought of waking up beside him in her own bed felt more intimate than the beach, more vulnerable than undressing in the light of a trailer lamp. It was the first step of many to make it real.
She turned towards him again, her voice softer now.
"I'd like that. I'd like that very much."
Booth nodded, already switching lanes.
"Okay, then. Your place it is."
And for the first time since their plane touched down, the world around them stopped feeling quite so far from where they'd just been.
-BONES-
The key turned smoothly in the lock, and Brennan pushed open the door to her apartment. It was dark and cool inside, untouched by her absence. The scent of old books, paper, and faint eucalyptus greeted them. Familiar things. Safe things.
She stepped aside to let Booth in, flicking on the hallway light as she toed off her shoes. Booth followed her, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. The apartment was quiet, still – it always was – but tonight, it felt different. Not empty but welcoming.
Brennan moved through the space with the ease of muscle memory. She disappeared into the bedroom, emerging shortly after in leggings and one of his old FBI shirts she'd never returned. Her hair was still up, slightly mussed from the plane, her skin pale in the softer indoor light.
He watched her for a moment, just taking her in.
"I like your shirt," he finally stated, and she had the grace to look a tad guilty.
"I might have stolen that," she admitted, and he chuckled, setting his feet in motion and closing the distance to her.
"Consider it a gift," he said before taking her in his arms, before lowering his face to hers.
Noses touched first, a gentle caress, before he kissed her softly but fully. She sighed into his lips and linked her arms around his neck, holding him in place as the kiss deepened.
It was their first kiss back home, and when he released her, something had changed.
"Hi," he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
"Hi yourself," she whispered right back, a smile tugging at her lips. "Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"I have tea. Chamomile. And mint. Or we could-"
He swept in for another kiss, interrupting her flow of words.
"You were saying?"
"Hmm? It's not nice of you to distract me while I try to be a good hostess, Booth."
He wiggled his eyebrows and slipped a hand under her shirt, the shirt that had been his.
"A good hostess?"
His thumb found the peak of her breast, and she sucked in a sharp breath as he grazed the sensitive skin.
"That's not a part of my hostess duties," she murmured, curving herself further into his body.
"I hope so," he uttered, and then the hand was gone, as one more thing he had simply assumed presented itself.
She opened her eyes, surprised to find something akin to insecurity in his features.
"What is it, Booth?"
"I want monogamy, Bones. Will that be a problem?"
She wrinkled her nose and frowned at him.
"Just how clueless do you think I am? Besides, monogamy is not a one-way-street, and I don't want to share you either. So … you tell me. Will that be a problem?"
The cocky grin was back, and so was the hand on her skin and the lips on hers.
"No problem at all," he whispered into her mouth. "So… you wanna give me the tour? Show me your bedroom? I'm suddenly really tired."
-BONES-
Her bed was nice, really nice, Booth mused an hour later, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. The sheets were softer than his own, the mattress was perfect for his back. The best thing without a doubt was her, though. Flushed cheeks on the pillow next to him, dark curls tangled on white sheets.
His hand reached out, fingers trailing the curve of her shoulder, and she made a sound that was close to a purr. He loved that, loved how responsive and soft she could be.
"Are you ready for tomorrow?"
She shrugged.
"Angela's going to know. Probably before we even say hello. And Parker …"
"Parker loves you. And Angela probably knew before we left. Bones… I know we said we'd be careful. About work. About us."
"Yes?"
"I just…" He swallowed. "I don't want to wake up in a few months and realize we left this behind out of fear."
She reached for his hand, held it over her heart.
"We won't," she said, her voice like a promise.
And he believed her.
-BONES-
Brennan walked through the sliding doors of the Medico-Legal Lab with Booth half a step behind her, both of them dressed for work but still wearing something different – something warmer – around their edges.
Angela was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed and grin wide.
"Oh no," Brennan said under her breath.
"Oh yes," Angela said, stepping forward. "You're glowing. Both of you. It's not fair to the rest of us mortals."
Brennan blinked, playing innocent. "We just got back from vacation."
"Please," Angela scoffed. "Don't insult me. I've known you for years, Sweetie. That is not just post-vacation serotonin. Anything to add, Booth?"
Booth raised both hands. "Hey, I'm just here to solve murder."
Angela looked between them, then leaned in to whisper, "I'm happy for you. You deserve this, both of you."
Brennan responded with a quiet smile. "Thank you."
Cam's voice cut into their moment.
"You lovebirds done? We've got a skull in Rock Creek Park."
Booth looked at Brennan. Brennan looked at Booth.
And just like that, their normal started again.
-BONES-
She had always had a steep learning curve, had never gotten a B. He had a big lion heart full of soft spots for the people he cared about – and for the longest time she had been his favorite grown-up person.
In the weeks after their vacation, those around them had the quiet privilege of watching two lives intertwine in the most beautiful way.
She challenged him as fiercely as always, never staying in the car. He reined in his urge to protect her, let her do her job instead. They bickered and butted heads now and then, but more than one squint had found them hugging it out after an argument.
A picture frame appeared on her nightstand, showcasing him, her and the colors of Cantabria. For their one-month-anniversary, he took her to a Spanish restaurant. Colorful socks dotted her laundry basket, more FBI tees swapped owners. Parker used every opportunity possible to call her his dad's girlfriend, and she found herself cooking mac and cheese for two Booths ever so often.
They survived their first Christmas, even though it made no sense since Jesus' birth was probably in April rather than December. For Booth's birthday in January, she got him a gift certificate from a travel agency. He saw the numbers on the voucher, and his eyes went wide. They survived that as well, especially as the gift certificate was followed by a bottle of sangria and an encore of the sundress he had liked so much on her; the one he'd first peeled off her body.
She was in love with him, and she told him so after a close encounter with a stray bullet, one that had her heart pounding for hours afterwards. He held her tight that night, whispering love and promises into her ear, reassuring her with the strong beat of his heart, making her forget over and over again.
Six months later, they stood at the gate again, thanks to his gift certificate – her suitcase full of new sundresses, his arms full of her. The line at security had been ridiculous, Brennan had forgotten to take out her laptop again, and Booth had nearly left his passport in the tray. Parker had called twice, once to say goodbye and once to remind Booth to bring back candy.
But now, with boarding passes in hand and her fingers looped through his, they exhaled. Somewhere behind them was a whole year of firsts; somewhere ahead of them were the colors of Cantabria.
And she was the brightest of them all.
The end.
Until we meet again, lovely people of the Bones-verse.