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It was an average Friday morning in the Jeffersonian forensic lab. Technicians bustled back and forth, the variety of machines hummed their different tones under bright overhead lights. On the central platform, three people clustered around a mostly-defleshed skeleton on the central table. Doctor Camille Saroyan was prodding delicately at the remaining tissue at the hip, while at the other side of the table, Doctor Temperance Brennan carefully examined the bare skull with intern Wendell Bray over her shoulder. The trio exchanged low murmurs, trading noteworthy findings as they worked. It made for a peaceful, routine kind of morning at the Jeffersonian, pleasantly focused on the science, just as Brennan liked.
The jarring rattle of hands drumming on metal broke the spell, making all three flinch. Doctor Saroyan and Mr. Bray looked up, but Brennan was unmoved, rolling her eyes and examining the fusion between the parietal and occipital bone.
“Can I help you with something, Agent Booth?” Her voice was dry, her disapproving glare aimed at a strange notch formation in the bone a few inches in front of her nose. She flicked her magnifier down, her full attention on the skull in her hands.
Behind her, Booth huffed. He was leaning over the railings of the platform, his right hand drumming a pattern into the metal. He craned his head between the railings, trying to get a peek at what they were working on.
“Just lookin’ for news, my people are ready to go as soon as you give me something to work with.”
“You will be informed when there is meaningful information to share. As always.” She held the skull up for Mr. Bray, tapping on the aberration for his benefit, before hunching back over the table.
“Yeah, I figured I would get the word faster if I was here in person.” His fingers danced across the metal railing, sending pinging notes into the air.
“I am perfectly capable of using a phone, Agent Booth.”
“Just saving you the trouble of a call.”
“Phone calls are not a source of ‘trouble’ for me.”
“Whatever makes you happiest, Doctor Brennan.”
“What would please me, Agent Booth, is if you would cease interrupting our work so we can collect the information to then inform you.”
“Well okay then. I’ll just… be over here, then.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
An awkward silence filled the room, the hum of the fluorescent lights seeming suddenly loud. Doctor Saroyan glanced between the pair, Booth staring at the back of Brennan’s head with an inscrutable look, Brennan focused on her work with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Cam cleared her throat and ventured “Fighting again, are we?”
That made Brennan jerk upright and look up from the skull in her hands. No one noticed that she nearly fumbled the thing. “Why does everyone think we’re fighting?”
“Because you are.” Wendell and Cam answered together.
“Oh, hardly.” Brennan rolled her eyes, turning back to her work. “When we are fighting, it is quite obvious.” She paused, giving Booth an appraising glance. With a haughty look on her face, she returned to the skeleton and casually remarked. “In practice, there is no meaningful distinction between Catholicism and the Pagan practices that predate the foundation of the Church.”
Booth groaned, slouching against the railings. “Don’t start this again. You know that’s not actually true.”
“In order to expand recruitment, the Church incorporated local pagan festivals into the liturgical calendar. For example, the date of the historical birth of Rabbi Yehoshua of Nazareth is completely absent from any original source texts. December 25th is actually aligned with the Roman pagan celebration of Saturnalia and the feast of Sol Invictus. This allowed communities to retain their trad—“
“It’s the darkest time of the year, of course everyone throws parties to lighten things up. That doesn’t mean anything. I believe the birth of Christ—”
“Well then how do you rationalize the incorporation of pagan rituals such as the European tree worship practices that predate the use of evergreen trees for Christian Yule—“
“You’re coming for Christmas trees? Who hates Christmas trees? You can’t say that only one religion is allowed to put stuff on a tree in winter.”
“You cannot deny that Catholic saints include—“
“Okay!” Cam stood and put herself between them. “Okay. We get it. You made your point, you’re not fighting. At all.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the exit. “Seeley, go find someone else to bother and we’ll get back to you.”
Brennan protested, “I wasn’t done. Saint Brigid of—“
“Nope. Done.” Cam tapped the skull, forgotten in Brennan’s gloved hands. “Focus here and get me some answers.”
Booth laughed, pushing off the railings and strolling towards the exit. “Sorry Bones, looks like I win this round.”
She sputtered in answer and glared as he waved and walked off.
The rest of the morning passed in grim silence, Brennan’s teeth gritted in a grimace. She poured her concentration into the body on the table. Gradually, the creases on her brow and the tightness of her jaw gave way as the bones told her their truths. In the end she found satisfying occupational markers and past breaks worth noting and only snapped at Mr. Bray once. Maybe twice.
It was a promising start.
—
After collecting her notes and conferring with Angela, Brennan shut herself into her office. With one surreptitious glance out into the lab, she locked her door with a click before settling at her desk. It would be better not to be disturbed, after all.
Leaning back in her chair, she dialed Booth. As the phone rang, she idly flicked through papers on her desk.
“Booth.” He was distracted by something, a rustling in the background.
“It’s me.”
“Oh, hey.” There was that subtle shift in his tone, warm and soft. She was still getting used to that. It was… well, she hadn’t quite found how to quantify the physiological effects that somehow just his tone of voice had on her body. It was… new. “You back for round two? It’s not often the big guy scores a win.” She could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
“No, I have identifying information on the deceased. And you didn’t win anything. I was merely interrupted.”
“Uh-huh, sure Bones. I know how hard it is to accept defeat. Whatcha got for me?”
She listed off the traits she had observed, and forwarded along Angela’s facial projection. Mr. Bray was currently busy looking into the blade shape of the murder weapon. Booth hummed in acknowledgement, the sound of his hunt-and-peck typing carrying over the phone. She tucked her phone against her shoulder, freeing her hands to flip through her notes to ensure she covered everything.
“Anything else?” He was businesslike, though she was sure that cracking sound was him chewing on the end of his pen. He had the worst fidgeting habits.
“Just one thing.”
And, after a quick scan of her office windows, she went into very specific, lurid detail about what she could do to him in his office chair. With her hands, her mouth, her tongue. With a detailed accounting of what clothes she was not wearing at that exact moment. And what he could do because of the aforementioned absent article of clothing. Her words, crisp articulations worthy of a best-selling novelist, were rapid-fire, giving him no space to interrupt. She did not require his input for this.
“Jeeee-sus Bones, fuck.” His voice was a hoarse whisper through gritted teeth. She could hear the creak of his office chair as he shifted, possibly to hide behind his desk. “My office door is wide open and I have a meeting in five minutes, what are you—“
“I just thought you should know,” she observed dryly, a smirk quirking her lips. “It seemed relevant to your interests.”
“Bones.” He was still trying to whisper. It was quite amusing to note the strain in his voice.
“I told you, you didn’t win anything, I was simply interrupted.”
He exhaled a long breath over the line. “You don’t play fair.”
“Are you complaining?”
He snorted a quiet laugh. “You’re so lucky this meeting is in my office. I can not stand up right now.”
“Sounds like an ‘I problem’”
“‘You problem.”
“Yes, that.”
There was a knock in the background of his end. “Ugh, Bones, I gotta go, but,” he cleared his throat, putting on a louder, professional tone, “I will circle back to you on that subject this evening, Doctor Brennan.”
“I expect you will.”
“Right-o, bye-bye.”
Alone in her office, she laughed to herself, shaking her head. She couldn’t seem to stop grinning. That had become a problem with increasing frequency lately. How strange it was to spend the same amount of time with the same person and yet be so changed. It gave her much to think about and yet, she felt compelled to simply trust the feeling. Maybe things really could be this good. Maybe this was worth the risk. In the quiet of her office, she hoped it was.
——
In the end, Booth managed his meeting… situation fine. Back problems were a great excuse for a seated handshake and everything else went smooth. The matter resolved itself but, still, the afternoon seemed to drag on forever. He had been sneaking out of the office early these past few weeks and it was awful tempting to do it again today. He would admit this: for all the rules they were definitely breaking, it was entirely fair to accuse them of being unprofessionally distracted. It was only Brennan’s curse of being the eternal Good Student that got them out of bed every morning. One of these days he was going to have to remember that his child support didn’t pay itself and he did, actually, really, need this job. But, boy, was she the best kind of distracting.
He was idly swinging his chair back and forth, thinking about just how distracting she could be, when Sweets showed up at his door.
The shrink gave a feeble little knock at Booth’s open door. “You got a sec? I uh… yeah.”
“Sweets! Hey,” Booth gave him the once-over and inwardly grimaced. Hunched over, hugging himself with one arm, messed up hair, red eyes. Bad sign, big ole red flag. Ah geez. “What’s uh.. what’s going on?” He gestured to a chair and tried to contort his face into welcoming smile but might have missed the mark. If he had to guess, this would not be a conversation he would enjoy.
Fortunately, the kid was too in his own head to notice Booth’s reluctance.
“I— I just….” he flopped down into the chair and hung his head. “I don’t know what to do, man. It’s just… things with Daisy, I….”
“Oh. Um. Oh no.” Hesitantly, Booth awkwardly reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m, uh, sorry? What happened?”
Sweets groaned and threw his head back over the chair-back, staring at the ceiling tiles. “I don’t even know. We were fine and then it all, like,” he made an exploding noise, miming the destruction with his hands.
“Did it er, ka-boom over something specific or…?”
“She wants me to meet her parents.” Sweets sighed, as if that explained everything.
“Oh!” Booth relaxed back into his chair.
Sweets sat up a little to squint at him. “Oh?”
“Normal stuff.” Booth waved his hand over his shoulder. “Totally normal. You’ll be fine.”
“Fine? I don’t feel fine.”
“What’s the worst that happens?”
“That they’ll hate me. That they’ll, like, forbid Daisy to be with me or something.”
“Okay, first off, have you met Daisy? She’s many things but she’s not going roll over because someone says ‘boo’.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Second thing, would it be better to find out now or later? Way I see it, you’re better off finding out if they’re crazy or something now instead-a letting it hang over you forever.”
“Yeah, but, if I meet her family, she’s going to ask more about… about my family.”
Booth paused, raising his eyebrows. “You haven’t told her?”
“Have you told everyone you’ve slept with about your family, your father, Agent Booth?” And just like that, with that stupid serious shrinky voice, Booth remembered why he never fucking tells anyone about his family. Why he never should have trusted Sweets with even a sliver of that information in the first place. There was a flash of anger, deep in his gut, his fist clenched on his chair’s armrest, but he kept his damn mouth shut. He just stared at Sweets with a flat look on his face.
“Sorry, but like, you see my point, right? It sucks when people… know things that change how they see you.”
“Right.” Booth’s expression was still deadpan. So he admits it changes how he sees him. Great.
“I just, like, don’t know what to do.” He was back to his barely-not-a-teenager voice. Just a kid, not worth getting angry at. Booth exhaled a sigh.
“Do what feels right.” He sat back in his chair, squeezing and releasing the arm rests to get the sudden tension out of his muscles. “If it feels wrong to meet her parents right now, then tell her that and go from there.”
“And if she doesn’t understand?”
“Tell her the truth if it feels right, take a break if it doesn’t.” He patted his belly. “Trust your gut. It sounds like your gut is saying you’re not ready, to me.”
“Yeah.” Sweets sighed but looked a little less lost.
“Or,” Booth put a little fake cheer in his voice, “you can be like me and just lie, lie, lie. Worked fine for nearly 40 years, don’t see a problem.” His smile was forced and they both knew it.
“Very healthy.”
“Whatever helps you survive, bud.”
“Sure, I guess.” Sweets seemed suddenly aware of where he was, looking around the room, glancing at the clock. “Well I guess I gotta go do some ‘surviving’. Thanks, man.” He walked around to Booth’s side of the desk and raised his open arms. “Can we like, you know, hug it out?”
“Absolutely not.” Booth turned his chair away and started packing up his desk to go home.
“Right, cool man.” Sweets nodded along like he had the same idea. “Totally. Walk out with you?”
“Nope. Goodnight, Sweets.”
“Right, cool cool cool. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Yup. Shut the door, willya?” Phone in one hand already dialing, Booth waved him off. “Bye now.”
Sweets disappeared down the hallway as the phone rang and the door slid shut. It was 5:30, a perfectly reasonable time to go home. Provided Bones wasn’t too deep into a work-hole, they could go home and then, well. They had some catch up to be doing.
She answered after the fourth ring, just barely catching it. “Brennan.”
He put on his best federal bureaucrat voice. “Ah, yes, Doctor Brennan I am calling with regards to the uh, previously discussed topic. Would you be available to touch base concerning this unaddressed agenda item? Let’s see, it says here, if I’m reading this correctly: ‘the backseat of my Sequoia’.”
She snorted. “I believe you have some serious delusions regarding your sexual prowess.”
“Oh, are we complaining? Service not been up to your standards?”
“It certainly has been lacking today.” She sniffed disapprovingly, but he could hear the grin in her voice.
“Whadya mean, this morning was fun.”
“Rushed,” she tsked. Behind her voice, there was the sound of metal clanging and conversations. “Much to make up for.”
“Well, mission accepted, then.” He grinned cheekily, slowly spinning back and forth in his chair. It was ridiculous how much she made him act like an idiot teenager. “Can I come pick you up? Grab some dinner?”
“Oh, is that what you’re trying to grab?” It was his turn to snort.
“Don’t you get overheard, Doctor, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”
“I am perfectly intentional with my verbiage, thank you for your concern.”
“Well that’s a relief.” He huffed a little laugh. “So can I come get ya or is it one of those long nights?”
“Hmm.” There was a long pause. “Could you bring dinner to the lab? I would prefer to complete this inventory tonight.”
“‘Course. Whatcha want?”
They bickered over food and eventually settled on thai. He left her to her work, called in their usual order, and drove off into the night.
Some things had changed over the past few weeks, but this part hadn’t changed at all. Some nights Brennan just needed to complete the task that currently consumed her thoughts. That was just fine by him, so long as she ate dinner. He had kept her company for late nights in the lab for years now. It was nice, watching her work, letting her talk him through her thought process. Sometimes he got to be like one of her squints, getting lectured on bones and quizzed on the correct names. He was getting better at it, even if the whole thing made him feel like an idiot. Other times it was just a companionable silence, Brennan murmuring to herself as her hands passed over bones. He ate his dinner beside her in peace, sitting on an empty lab table, playing solitaire and occasionally stopping just to watch her. It really was nice.
Usually it was just them and the occasional security guard. That would’ve been enough to stop him from getting frisky, but he never really felt the urge in the first place. When Brennan was in the flow state, it was best to just let her work. She would be the first to say that there was no person there, it was just inanimate remains, but the way she took her work so seriously, the care with which she approached it all… Booth would never say it out-loud because she’d hate it, but there was something sacred in what she did. Putting people back together, getting them closure. It was the kind of thing that deserved respect.
It took a few hours, but eventually the snap of nitrile gloves coming off made him look up from his game. She gave him a soft, tired smile and leaned against his shoulder. He looked up at her, all soft fondness, their noses just short of touching, and smiled back.
“Ready to go?”
“Yes, please.”
“Arright. Let’s grab your stuff, hm?”
Together, they ambled out into the night, shoulders bumping as they went. It was something old and familiar, yet teasingly new.
———
In the parking garage, he gave it his best go.
“You know, I was serious about the backseat, nobody’s around and I hear someone didn’t wear panties today so…”
“Absolutely not.”
He opened the passenger door for her and put on a pouty face. “But— but—“ As she climbed into her seat, he leaned in close, filling the doorframe. “I can make it worth your while…” He grinned, his lips just short of brushing hers. Deftly, his hand slid up her leg, slipping beneath her skirt.
She gave him a chaste peck and shoved him away. “No. Cameras.”
He grinned good-naturedly, shutting her door, walking around, and climbing into the driver’s seat. “There’s cameras in your office and you kissed me there.”
“I seem to recall more than just kissing. But the point remains. No one watches those cameras. No crime.” She pointed out the window, a camera hanging from the ceiling nearby. “Seven point three percent of all violent crimes occur in parking structures. Someone is definitely, or had better be, watching that camera.”
“You’re just full of no-fun statistics.”
“I am simply clarifying that I do not object to your car, I object to where your car is currently located.” She paused for a minute, looking thoughtful. “We could engage in sexual activities in your car parked by either of our apartments, but in that case we might as well go indoors and benefit from cushioning from a real mattress. It’s hardly worth injuring your infirm back for.”
“You make me sound like an old man.”
“I am simply stating objective facts.”
“Thanks, Bones. You really know how to talk a guy up.”
“You’re welcome.”
—-
The drive was uneventful, until it wasn’t.
Like the silly lovesick idiot he was, Booth couldn’t help but reach for her hand as he drove. Lacing his fingers with hers, resting together, warm on her thigh; it satisfied some long-held fantasy of his, after all the years they had spent together in his car. Smoothing his thumb back and forth over the soft skin of her hand felt so good, even the smallest touches feeling like relief after so many years denied. So he was particularly annoyed when he had to drop her hand to answer his damn phone.
“Booth.”
“Uhh h-hey, I… it’s Sweets, I…” His voice was odd, choked up. “I-I need help, I—“ Booth was instantly on red alert, pulling the car over to the side of the road and slapping his flashers on.
“Are you safe?” Booth’s voice was serious, forceful, something of the soldier in him springing out. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to fight. “Are you okay?” It was more command than question.
“Y-yeah, man. Fine, I guess. I just—“
“You are not in danger?”
“Yeah totally, I’m just at a bar and— and Daisy… she….”
Booth let out a long breath, squeezing and then releasing the steering wheel. Brennan leaned into his eye-line, concern written on her face, but he waved her off.
“So you’re fine.” Booth confirmed, his voice a little more level.
“Noooo…Daisy kicked me out! I’m all alooone,” And drunk, apparently. Booth grimaced at his partner.
“Man, just go home and sleep it off, you’ll be fine.” Booth should probably have been more sympathetic, but, well.
“I can’t! She kicked me out of our place, I’m h-homeless, I’m—“ There was some garbled noise of hiccuping sobbing, loud enough that Booth pulled the phone away from his ear with a scowl.
“Okay, okay, pull it together, man. Look, you can come sleep on my couch and—“ More garbled sound came over the phone. “It’s fine, you’ll be fine, I—“ But Brennan was waving frantically, trying to get his attention. He gave her a questioning look and she mouthed “My things!” at him. It took him a second, staring blankly at her, before he remembered in a flash the state of his apartment. It was a great place, he loved it, but it wasn’t exactly the best for storage. His closet was tiny, his dresser full. Bones staying over meant her stuff came with her, clothes hanging in doorframes, shoes piled by the door, her damn forensic journals piled on the coffee table. Her various toiletries occupied their own entire shelf in his bathroom, her herbal teas scattered across the tiny kitchen countertops. They kept meaning to organize things better but other, more fun and distracting things took up most of their time.
“Shit,” he mouthed at her. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, thinking frantically. Sweets was babbling something in his ear but it was mostly unintelligible. With an apologetic grimace, he mouthed back at her “Your place?” She didn’t look thrilled at the idea, but she mulled it over, her head swaying back and forth in consideration. Her place was bigger and nicer, more space for his stuff. His suits were neatly tucked away in her spacious closet, plenty of room and reasonable doubt for his toiletries in the guest bathroom. Sweets wasn’t likely to make anything out of the extra meat and beer in the fridge, and her general neat living meant that it wouldn’t take much work to spirit away other evidence of his living there. They could make it work.
With a sigh, Brennan nodded and mouthed “Fine” He flashed her an apologetic smile and got back to figuring out what Sweets was saying. The combination of poor reception, bar noise, and general weeping made for an auditory nightmare, though he could parse out the occasional “Daisy” and “alone”.
When there was a gap in the noise, Booth cut in. “Look, Sweets, you’re not gonna fit on my couch, but Bones has an entire guest bedroom with a mattress and a closing door and bathroom and everything. How ‘bout I call her and see if you can come crash?”
“Would— do you think— she’d be okay with that?”
“Yeah, man. I’m sure it’ll be okay. She’s let me crash there before, it’s great.” He gave her a chagrined look, apologetically stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Tell me where you’re at and I’ll come pick you up and drive ya over, alright?”
They exchanged the address for an ETA, and with a few last assurances, Booth hung up. For a moment, they sat there in silence. Traffic passed them by, they both sighed, Booth drummed a pattern into the steering wheel with his knuckles.
“We’re never having sex again, are we?”
“I’m afraid that appears to be the case for the present time.”
“Great.”
“Yes.”
The rest of the drive was in a resigned silence, though their fingers stayed laced tight.
——
Booth dropped Brennan off at her place first, giving her time to clean away any evidence of cohabitation. It wasn’t so bad, the apartment was full of excess cabinetry and she was able to quickly cram Booth’s various scattered socks, abandoned sports magazines, a baseball, and a stack of bills into an empty console. Their week’s dry cleaning, which had recently become a shared expense, was easily tucked away into the closet, and she moved his toiletries from the main bathroom to the guest bathroom. She was taking stock of her work, looking for any last scrap of evidence, when there was a knock on the door.
“Ay Bones, special delivery,” came Booth’s voice through the door.
“Coming.”
She opened the door to Booth holding a bedraggled looking Sweets upright, arm slung over his shoulder. He helped him stumble into the room, depositing the psychologist into one of the many couches that lined the wall.
“Oh Sweets.” She couldn’t help the affectionate pity in her voice. He was in complete disarray, his tie loose, his clothes a wrinkled mess. “How best can I assist you? You look like you need to rehydrate, at a minimum.”
“I need a new life, is what I need.” He scrubbed at his face. “I can’t believe I like, screwed everything up this bad.”
Brennan passed him a glass of water from the sink and sat down beside him. “Sweets, you have poured extensive efforts into highly prestigious scholastic and professional success. It would be very unfortunate and impractical to abandon those achievements simply because you had a romantic setback. Surely this is not that dire of a situation.”
Sweets gave her a thoughtful, if slightly unfocused, look, sipping at his water. “Thanks, Doctor B. I just… we had a great thing going and I thought, I thought I’d finally figured it out, and…” He sighed, sagging back against the couch.
“Shit happens, you’ll make it through alright.” Booth slouched against one of the chairs, arms crossed. “I take it that things didn’t go so great after we talked?”
“We just argued, I didn’t…” Sweets hung his head. “I dunno, man. It’s a total disaster.”
“Miss Wick is no longer working at the Jeffersonian, so I don’t see any reason you should have to see her again. It is hardly a disaster, simply a… a bump in the street.”
“But I want to see her again, you know? Oh god… Am I never going to see her again?” He held his head in his hands. Brennan reached out and gave what she hoped was a consoling pat on the shoulder.
“Chin up, bud. Everything will seem better after a shower and some sleep.” Booth gave him a little punch to the other shoulder, apparently a supportive gesture.
“You will certainly be more rational once the alcohol has left your system,” Brennan agreed. “Finish the water and I will show you to your room.”
Sweets did as he was told and trailed along behind her to the far side of the spacious apartment. He was appropriately appreciative of the quality of the room and guest bathroom. As soon as she was certain he had everything he needed, she left him to his shower.
Booth was waiting for her on the couch, giving her that look that she was growing to recognize. She was still trying to quantify it, there was something with the angle of his eyebrows, the way the lines around his eyes crinkled, the crooked grin that was just for her. It usually meant the best sort of trouble. She sat beside him, a few prudent feet between them. Ignoring the suggestive glint in his eye, she gave him an appraising look.
“You talked to Sweets earlier, I take it?”
“Yeah.” He scooted a little closer. “I might have fucked up and given him bad advice.”
“Oh?”
“Normal relationship troubles. I bet they’ll get over it.”
“Hmm.” Brennan looked thoughtful. “If it’s normal, then, is this relationship troubles we will have?”
“Eh. Not this particular thing.” His fingers danced across the space between them, settling on her thigh. He tapped a pattern into the fabric of her skirt, apparently simply for the pleasure of touching her when he probably shouldn’t. “We both already know a lot about each other and the uh, unpleasantness in our family histories. I at least don’t have any big secrets I’m hiding.”
“Oh. I see.” Her thoughts turned to the scars on Sweets’s back, unhappily a familiar thing. She hugged herself, frowning, watching Booth’s fingers drum a seemingly random rhythm.
He leaned into her eye-line, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Not keeping any big secret pasts, are we? Ran away to the circus? Spent some time as a pearl diver in Columbia? Been a zookeeper in Belgium?”
“No, no, and no.” She swatted his face away and he grinned. Her voice was more somber. “I think you know everything. Or at least the… unpleasant things.”
He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And there’s only good things ahead, I promise.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Just you watch me.” The way he smiled at her made her want to believe him, even though she knew it was completely irrational.
“You are a very illogical man.”
“Thanks, I think.”
The bathroom door rattled and they jumped apart, one last brush of Booth’s hand against her thigh leaving the ghost of a feeling behind. Sweets was entirely oblivious, looking all together in a better condition. He was dressed in a shirt that loudly declared ’Star Wars’ and baggy sleep pants covered in cartoon characters, a towel still wrapped around his curly hair.
“Better, Sweets?” Booth asked, his hands neatly folded in his lap.
“Yeah. Much. Thanks again, Doctor B.” He scrubbed at his hair. “It cool if I hit the sack?”
“Excuse me?” She didn’t recall him bringing a sack, only a suitcase.
“Sleep, Bones, he means go to bed.”
“Oh, yes, of course. You will find the mattress is much nicer than a sack.” She stood, peeking into the guest bedroom. “Do you require anything additional?”
“Nope, I’m all set, thanks.” He walked into the bedroom, leaning against the door. “G’nite you two.”
“'Nite.”
“Goodnight.”
With a little wave, he shut the door. They were alone again, though not quite alone enough for her liking.
Booth sighed, jangling his keys. “I gue-eesss I should go, huh?”
“I suppose so.” She shoved him gently towards the front door. “It is late.”
He grumbled but let her push him along. She followed behind him as far as the hallway outside the apartment, pausing in the doorframe. Brennan shut the apartment door behind her, smiling as he leaned over her and pressed her back to the door.
“You know,” he mused in a low voice, “This’ll be the first time I’m sleeping alone since…” His forehead rested against hers.
“I do know that.” She angled her chin up, her lips just brushing past his. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Sulk.” He rubbed his nose against hers, his hands sliding up her hips.
“Is that a euphemism for masturbation?” Her hand rested on his chest between them, sliding lower to rest on his belly.
Booth snorted. “Maybe,” he conceded.
He leaned into her, kissing her deeply with a groan of want. She answered him with just as much need, her hand clutching at his shirt. His hands wandered, slipping beneath her skirt to grab her bare ass. She squawked in protest and his hands slipped back out, patting her on the hips.
“Just checking.” He grinned, putting on the image of innocence. “I was promised, you know.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are missing your opportunity. You know it's hardly sanitary to go without undergarments, no matter the... enticing benefits.”
“Don’t remind me.”
For a while they just stood there, holding each other against the door.
“You should leave before I do something that will lead to… complications,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“Mmm,” he hummed, rocking her gently. “How bad could those complications really be?”
“Losing our jobs.”
“Ah. Right. Damn.”
They sighed together and, reluctantly, slipped apart. He leaned forward for one last kiss, lips pressed ever so lightly against the tip of her nose.
“See you tomorrow? Breakfast? Somebody’s got to feed the duckling.” He idly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Breakfast would be lovely. Come pick us up.”
“You got it.”
They shared one last look, soft smiles between them, and then she ducked back into the apartment.
With the door open just a crack, she murmured low, “Goodnight, Booth.”
“Nite, Bones.”
The door shut and he set off into the night, alone.
——
In the end, it took four whole days for Sweets and Daisy to make up. Four whole damn days of Booth sleeping all on his lonesome. Four days of reminding himself that Sweets was just a kid, and it was the right thing to do, and wouldn’t he be grateful if he was in Sweets’s position. Those things could all be true and he could still be entirely frustrated and grumpy about it. Brennan hardly seemed bothered at all. The grins she shot Booth in stolen moments seemed to be laughing at his predicament. She was enjoying this. Her ability to be an absolute, smug tease was something he was just beginning to appreciate. She was a dangerous one, that woman.
When Sweets and Daisy finally made up, it was a relief like no other. By the sound of things, Sweets had followed his shrinky calling and explained things honestly to Daisy. Good for him and all that, great. Booth was much more concerned with how quickly Sweets was moving out from Bones’s place. As soon as she called him, Booth was on the road. He barely let Brennan open the door before he was on her. As far as he was concerned, they had too much reacquainting to be doing to waste any time.
It was a few hours later when the setting sun found them laying together in Brennan’s bed. It was enough then to just enjoy each other’s company, lazy and love-drunk. He had only just begun to make up for lost time, but for now, this was enough.
Only, from the other end of the apartment, there was a rattle, a click, the creaking sound of the door opening.
Booth’s eyes opened wide in panic, seemingly trapped between the choice of jumping off Brennan, revealing himself in the full nude, or setting to the hopeless task of hiding himself under the bedcovers. Both options were so ridiculous, they set Brennan to giggling, ignoring Booth’s frantic cursing.
“Doctor Brennan? Are you there? I forgot something!” Sweets’s voice was still a distance away.
Booth had pulled the covers up over his head and laid down flat on top of her, the effect comically obvious. He tried to shush her giggling, which just made her laugh harder. He snuck a hand up her naked body to cover her mouth, but she just swatted it away and grinned.
Loudly, she announced, “Apologies, Doctor Sweets, I am presently masturbating and would prefer privacy.”
There was stunned silence for a beat, Booth staring up at her from under the blankets, open-mouthed.
Sweets’s voice hit a pitch higher than usual. “I uh, oh, I that’s—uh good, I—” Then there was the unmistakable sound of a chair being knocked over. “I’ll just, uh, go, then, yeah, totally, cool, great, see ya, later, bye!” The front door banged open and shut.
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to his rapid footsteps recede. When enough time had passed, Booth cautiously pulled the blankets back from over his head and sat up.
“Bones, you just murdered that poor man in cold blood. He’s never gonna recover from this.” His eyes were still on the front door, just in case.
“What? Masturbation is a perfectly normal and healthy human activity. It’s ridiculous the amount of shame associated with such a beneficial act. Studies have shown—“
“Yeah okay Bones, pretend he’s not going to think of this every time he sees you. God, the obvious way he blushes? We’re always gonna know. I’m already embarrassed for him.” He blew out a sympathetic breath.
“Oh, you both need to just grow up,” she tsked.
“Maybe.” He was still watching the front door. “We have got to get a chain on that door.”
“Oh? What are you going to do when I use it and you can’t get in?”
“Hrm. I’ve broken them open before.”
“As I recall, that’s how you last blew your back out.”
“Hey,” he playfully nudged her in the shoulder with his fist. “Quit making me sound like a fragile old man.”
“You are nearly 40, you’re hardly a spring rooster.”
“Hey!” He leaned over her, his nose brushing against hers. “It’s ‘spring chicken.’”
“Whatever.” Her eyebrows raised in challenge, she eyed his lips as they lingered just out of reach. “The point still stands, you are—mmmph!”
Booth decided the argument could be better settled if his mouth did something other than talking. It was, after all, his favorite way to win any argument with his Bones.
In the end, she never had any complaints.