Fic: Collide
Title: Collide
Fandom: Bones
Author: rachg82
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Booth & Brennan
Word Count: 830
Spoilers: Up to the end of the sixth season, which is where this is set.
Summary: In essence, the morning after The Morning After. Except it's technically nighttime here, but you get the gist.
---
They'd agreed to take things slowly.
That had seemed like the proper course of action at the time,
though now she couldn't exactly understand why
after they'd waited so long to come together in the first place.
Oh, look, she'd made an unwitting pun.
See, "come together" had been a double-entendre, and they'd quite literally…
He would be so proud of her if he were here right now,
but seeing as she stood alone in her kitchen tonight
--frustrated with herself & aching for him, body & soul--
she supposed that didn't really count.
Except it did.
Except everything that had anything to do with him counted now.
Then again, it always had.
She just hadn't recognized the fact until fairly recently, let alone what it meant.
But that dark & bright evening Bones had spent in Booth's bed, all but stripped of her defenses
and covered by his suddenly ubiquitous hands,
he'd still been nervous about her transformation.
Even though so many months had passed since his last disastrous bet,
he was hesitant when it came to gambling on the two of them again.
Trembling with excitement
& miles beyond eager, but yellow-bellied scared nonetheless.
Not of her. Never of her.
Of himself.
Of moving too fast & scaring her off for good, breaking his own heart once more.
He wasn't sure it could survive a second operation. The damage would likely be irreparable.
So when she'd given him a watery smirk
that somehow managed to be sexy & shy simultaneously,
asking if he was still angry,
he'd honestly replied in the negative,
then added,
"But I think we should take our time with this. Y'know, make sure we do it right & don't end up on opposite sides of the planet again."
That sounded extremely reasonable. He knew she'd be proud of him for that.
Unwilling in that moment to deny him anything,
she'd agreed.
The problem was
(was it really a problem, though?),
they couldn't stay away from each other.
It wasn't just the work.
The first time after the very
first time,
it had only taken him a measly three days to appear at her door, practically panting
from his sprint up the stairs.
It was 12:30 in the morning.
He'd remembered there was a freckle on her right thigh,
and someone really ought to be kissing it.
(Obviously, that "someone" had better damn well be him.)
Embarrassingly, he'd stammered like a prepubescent fool.
"I'm sorry. I - I don't know what I'm doing here. I know I said we should take this slow,
and I'm not expecting anything, but I just felt like I had to see you, and--"
"Shut up, Booth."
Thankfully, she'd saved him from himself
by leaning forward & kissing him into a thick fog,
one hand gripping the front of his belt
and the other sliding behind his neck,
holding him in place.
She'd always been his anchor.
The second time,
they'd just finished up a case
and were lingering in one another's personal space
a little too closely
for a little too long
outside The Founding Fathers.
Brennan's cab had already pulled up, and the driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.
She had no excuse. She just didn't want to say goodbye,
and her voice was seemingly set on auto-pilot.
"We could share a cab."
Booth's pulse began to tick upwards.
He sensibly replied, "I really should see you home anyways. There are murderers lurking
out there, after all."
For once, she knew he was joking,
but she didn't acknowledge it.
She just kept staring at his mouth.
"You could come in for a nightcap."
He nodded several times, not unlike a bobble-head, dazed by her proximity.
"Right, just a drink between friends. Coworkers."
They were equally full of shit.
Not surprisingly, he treated himself to a lot more than a nightcap that night.
The next morning, they couldn't think of what to say,
so they just looked at each other & smiled.
She let him have the shower first, and he let her pretend she still had everything under control.
That was two days ago.
So why was she standing here so distracted by him now
when he was all the way across town?
Scratch that -- had that just been a knock at the door?
She walked over faster than necessary & opened it widely.
Booth was standing there, sheepish & damp with scattered droplets of rain.
"I swear my car drove itself here."
Perhaps taking things slowly was over-rated.
Carpe diem and all that.
(Neither of them knew it yet, of course, but her womb was seizing more than just the day.)
She leveled him with a single measured look. "I was hoping you'd come."
He grinned, incorrigible. "That's entirely up to you."
Bones closed her eyes & shook her head. "You're so predictable."
They closed the door together --
fast or slow, it was the right time.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
---
fin
Fandom: Bones
Author: rachg82
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Booth & Brennan
Word Count: 830
Spoilers: Up to the end of the sixth season, which is where this is set.
Summary: In essence, the morning after The Morning After. Except it's technically nighttime here, but you get the gist.
---
They'd agreed to take things slowly.
That had seemed like the proper course of action at the time,
though now she couldn't exactly understand why
after they'd waited so long to come together in the first place.
Oh, look, she'd made an unwitting pun.
See, "come together" had been a double-entendre, and they'd quite literally…
He would be so proud of her if he were here right now,
but seeing as she stood alone in her kitchen tonight
--frustrated with herself & aching for him, body & soul--
she supposed that didn't really count.
Except it did.
Except everything that had anything to do with him counted now.
Then again, it always had.
She just hadn't recognized the fact until fairly recently, let alone what it meant.
But that dark & bright evening Bones had spent in Booth's bed, all but stripped of her defenses
and covered by his suddenly ubiquitous hands,
he'd still been nervous about her transformation.
Even though so many months had passed since his last disastrous bet,
he was hesitant when it came to gambling on the two of them again.
Trembling with excitement
& miles beyond eager, but yellow-bellied scared nonetheless.
Not of her. Never of her.
Of himself.
Of moving too fast & scaring her off for good, breaking his own heart once more.
He wasn't sure it could survive a second operation. The damage would likely be irreparable.
So when she'd given him a watery smirk
that somehow managed to be sexy & shy simultaneously,
asking if he was still angry,
he'd honestly replied in the negative,
then added,
"But I think we should take our time with this. Y'know, make sure we do it right & don't end up on opposite sides of the planet again."
That sounded extremely reasonable. He knew she'd be proud of him for that.
Unwilling in that moment to deny him anything,
she'd agreed.
The problem was
(was it really a problem, though?),
they couldn't stay away from each other.
It wasn't just the work.
The first time after the very
first time,
it had only taken him a measly three days to appear at her door, practically panting
from his sprint up the stairs.
It was 12:30 in the morning.
He'd remembered there was a freckle on her right thigh,
and someone really ought to be kissing it.
(Obviously, that "someone" had better damn well be him.)
Embarrassingly, he'd stammered like a prepubescent fool.
"I'm sorry. I - I don't know what I'm doing here. I know I said we should take this slow,
and I'm not expecting anything, but I just felt like I had to see you, and--"
"Shut up, Booth."
Thankfully, she'd saved him from himself
by leaning forward & kissing him into a thick fog,
one hand gripping the front of his belt
and the other sliding behind his neck,
holding him in place.
She'd always been his anchor.
The second time,
they'd just finished up a case
and were lingering in one another's personal space
a little too closely
for a little too long
outside The Founding Fathers.
Brennan's cab had already pulled up, and the driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.
She had no excuse. She just didn't want to say goodbye,
and her voice was seemingly set on auto-pilot.
"We could share a cab."
Booth's pulse began to tick upwards.
He sensibly replied, "I really should see you home anyways. There are murderers lurking
out there, after all."
For once, she knew he was joking,
but she didn't acknowledge it.
She just kept staring at his mouth.
"You could come in for a nightcap."
He nodded several times, not unlike a bobble-head, dazed by her proximity.
"Right, just a drink between friends. Coworkers."
They were equally full of shit.
Not surprisingly, he treated himself to a lot more than a nightcap that night.
The next morning, they couldn't think of what to say,
so they just looked at each other & smiled.
She let him have the shower first, and he let her pretend she still had everything under control.
That was two days ago.
So why was she standing here so distracted by him now
when he was all the way across town?
Scratch that -- had that just been a knock at the door?
She walked over faster than necessary & opened it widely.
Booth was standing there, sheepish & damp with scattered droplets of rain.
"I swear my car drove itself here."
Perhaps taking things slowly was over-rated.
Carpe diem and all that.
(Neither of them knew it yet, of course, but her womb was seizing more than just the day.)
She leveled him with a single measured look. "I was hoping you'd come."
He grinned, incorrigible. "That's entirely up to you."
Bones closed her eyes & shook her head. "You're so predictable."
They closed the door together --
fast or slow, it was the right time.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
---
fin