hey, rosie_not_rose:
Okay. OKAY. I admit it. This was not the fic I wanted to post for the Christmas exchange. That one is a lot longer, but sitting very unfinished on my desktop. I'm having a lot of trouble just wrapping it up, and I don't think I am going to have any success at finishing it anytime soon. So, in a very unclassy move, I am admitting all this and posting this fic instead. If I ever finish that other fic, I'm going to dedicate it to you, Rosie. And if I don't, then I'm just very sorry for taking so long and then not even posting what I'd made you wait so long for. ♥ (Sort and sweet has to count for something, right?)
pennies lost, pennies exchanged; b/b; pg-13; 1009 words; post-5.11, the x in the file
for rosie_not_rose, who has been incredibly patient with me ♥
They existed in the domain of stars. Between the air on which they subsisted and the vast distance into which the universe expanded, two souls lived, serene. They breathed in the knowledge of the other, and shared the all-consuming experience of being safe and secure and happy. At peace. It was the closest she'd come to believing in eternity, and the farthest he'd ever been from the uncertainty he carried within him.
Because Booth was in love with Brennan, you know, and that had become both the easiest and the most difficult weight he'd ever had to shoulder. He felt it in his heart, and in his gut, and at the tips of his fingers, itching to trace shapes across her skin.
But Brennan's beliefs differed, and she placed little intrinsic value on heartaches and gut feelings. Fingertips tingled when they were warm, or cold, or numb, and she spoke to him of air pressure and thermodynamics and the tiny neurotransmitters in the brain that served as a control panel to what he called love.
He watched her observe the stars, a childlike wonderment tingeing her cheeks, and he thought of days spent with her - working cases and bickering over coffee and feeling alive. He thought of evenings together and nights apart, and how the passing of time seemed to differ so greatly in those two instances. But mostly, he thought about being with her, here, in this one instant under the stars. How she looked, and smelled, and felt when she shifted against him on the hood of the vehicle, her body warm and solid and real beside him.
There was something different tonight, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Differences in beliefs - science versus sentiment - didn't seem to matter to either of them. A greater power was at work.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
She tilted her head toward him. "I have no need for pocket change, Booth," she replied, and then she grinned, cheeky and mischievous, and he wanted to reach out and hold it. "I realize that was an idiom," she continued, "and I would be happy to share my thoughts with you, Booth."
He waited for her to gather her thoughts, prepared to consume her words as though they were instructions he was determined to follow.
"I was considering the possibility of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. Why do you think human beings are constantly fascinated by the possibility?" She paused, just for a moment, and he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't done. "Anthropologically, as a species, we have always been desperate for a connection."
"A connection with aliens?"
"A connection with life," she explained. "A connection with... something - anything - that understands us. Isn't that the basis of our relationships with other people? Understanding?"
He shuffled against her. "I don't think we have to understand a person to love them."
She tilted her head up to look at him. "Love isn't--" She trailed off then, her face lighting up as though she suddenly remembered something important. "I didn't say anything about love."
He turned to her, catching the amusement in her eyes. "No, but the people we have the strongest relationships with are the ones we love the most," he argued. "If understanding is the basis of all relationships... well, I mean, I don't really understand you sometimes, Bones, but--"
"But?" She smiled softly at him.
He couldn't help but smile back, though he said nothing. She returned her attention to the darkened sky, to the stars that gently illuminated the night. A minute passed, then two, and the silence that surrounded them began to lull him to sleep. But when his eyelids began to flutter, he felt her moving beside him.
"Booth."
He blinked, focusing. "Mm?"
Another silence stretched between them, but this one was short-lived. "Do you really think that you don't understand me?" she asked, words quiet.
"I think--" He chuckled. "I think you are incredibly smart, Bones, and sometimes I can't keep up with what you're saying."
Her gaze never wavered, her eyes wide and curious. "That's not really the kind of understanding I meant though."
He wanted, then, in that moment, to kiss her. Delicate, or rough and harsh - he didn't care. He just wanted to remember how it felt again to taste her. Subconsciously, his face slid toward hers. "Then yeah, I think I understand you just fine."
She didn't relinquish her position. "So my rule, it applies?"
A gust of warm air ghosted across his cheeks and chin, entrancing him. "Yeah." A pause, and he felt something shift in his chest. "I'm gonna kiss you, Bones."
She made no attempts to stop him.
His lips slid against hers, and as soon as they touched, his brain immediately conjured images of her body pressed under his, over his, moving moving moving against him. The memories felt so real - as real as his dream had been, and it took every last ounce of his willpower to push them away. Because he was here now. Here. This wasn't another trick of the subconscious; it was Bones, full and open and willing. He made that his focus.
Her hand coasted up to the nape of his neck, touching, and he pulled her closer, as close as the smooth windshield beneath them would let him. His fingers flirted with the hem of her shirt, his palms coming to rest against the plane of her abdomen. She stopped him then, or slowed him, at least, and he tossed her a look of confusion as he pulled away.
"Do you know," she began, breathlessly and with a smirk, "how many pennies that's going to cost you?"
He laughed, dusting a light kiss to the corner of her lips. "I don't think," he murmured, "that I need a connection with an alien anytime soon."
She touched the pad of her thumb to his jaw. "Me neither, Booth. Me neither."
The two remained, like constellations: observing, and guiding, and gleaming strong into the night.
pennies lost, pennies exchanged; b/b; pg-13; 1009 words; post-5.11, the x in the file
for rosie_not_rose, who has been incredibly patient with me ♥
They existed in the domain of stars. Between the air on which they subsisted and the vast distance into which the universe expanded, two souls lived, serene. They breathed in the knowledge of the other, and shared the all-consuming experience of being safe and secure and happy. At peace. It was the closest she'd come to believing in eternity, and the farthest he'd ever been from the uncertainty he carried within him.
Because Booth was in love with Brennan, you know, and that had become both the easiest and the most difficult weight he'd ever had to shoulder. He felt it in his heart, and in his gut, and at the tips of his fingers, itching to trace shapes across her skin.
But Brennan's beliefs differed, and she placed little intrinsic value on heartaches and gut feelings. Fingertips tingled when they were warm, or cold, or numb, and she spoke to him of air pressure and thermodynamics and the tiny neurotransmitters in the brain that served as a control panel to what he called love.
He watched her observe the stars, a childlike wonderment tingeing her cheeks, and he thought of days spent with her - working cases and bickering over coffee and feeling alive. He thought of evenings together and nights apart, and how the passing of time seemed to differ so greatly in those two instances. But mostly, he thought about being with her, here, in this one instant under the stars. How she looked, and smelled, and felt when she shifted against him on the hood of the vehicle, her body warm and solid and real beside him.
There was something different tonight, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Differences in beliefs - science versus sentiment - didn't seem to matter to either of them. A greater power was at work.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
She tilted her head toward him. "I have no need for pocket change, Booth," she replied, and then she grinned, cheeky and mischievous, and he wanted to reach out and hold it. "I realize that was an idiom," she continued, "and I would be happy to share my thoughts with you, Booth."
He waited for her to gather her thoughts, prepared to consume her words as though they were instructions he was determined to follow.
"I was considering the possibility of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. Why do you think human beings are constantly fascinated by the possibility?" She paused, just for a moment, and he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't done. "Anthropologically, as a species, we have always been desperate for a connection."
"A connection with aliens?"
"A connection with life," she explained. "A connection with... something - anything - that understands us. Isn't that the basis of our relationships with other people? Understanding?"
He shuffled against her. "I don't think we have to understand a person to love them."
She tilted her head up to look at him. "Love isn't--" She trailed off then, her face lighting up as though she suddenly remembered something important. "I didn't say anything about love."
He turned to her, catching the amusement in her eyes. "No, but the people we have the strongest relationships with are the ones we love the most," he argued. "If understanding is the basis of all relationships... well, I mean, I don't really understand you sometimes, Bones, but--"
"But?" She smiled softly at him.
He couldn't help but smile back, though he said nothing. She returned her attention to the darkened sky, to the stars that gently illuminated the night. A minute passed, then two, and the silence that surrounded them began to lull him to sleep. But when his eyelids began to flutter, he felt her moving beside him.
"Booth."
He blinked, focusing. "Mm?"
Another silence stretched between them, but this one was short-lived. "Do you really think that you don't understand me?" she asked, words quiet.
"I think--" He chuckled. "I think you are incredibly smart, Bones, and sometimes I can't keep up with what you're saying."
Her gaze never wavered, her eyes wide and curious. "That's not really the kind of understanding I meant though."
He wanted, then, in that moment, to kiss her. Delicate, or rough and harsh - he didn't care. He just wanted to remember how it felt again to taste her. Subconsciously, his face slid toward hers. "Then yeah, I think I understand you just fine."
She didn't relinquish her position. "So my rule, it applies?"
A gust of warm air ghosted across his cheeks and chin, entrancing him. "Yeah." A pause, and he felt something shift in his chest. "I'm gonna kiss you, Bones."
She made no attempts to stop him.
His lips slid against hers, and as soon as they touched, his brain immediately conjured images of her body pressed under his, over his, moving moving moving against him. The memories felt so real - as real as his dream had been, and it took every last ounce of his willpower to push them away. Because he was here now. Here. This wasn't another trick of the subconscious; it was Bones, full and open and willing. He made that his focus.
Her hand coasted up to the nape of his neck, touching, and he pulled her closer, as close as the smooth windshield beneath them would let him. His fingers flirted with the hem of her shirt, his palms coming to rest against the plane of her abdomen. She stopped him then, or slowed him, at least, and he tossed her a look of confusion as he pulled away.
"Do you know," she began, breathlessly and with a smirk, "how many pennies that's going to cost you?"
He laughed, dusting a light kiss to the corner of her lips. "I don't think," he murmured, "that I need a connection with an alien anytime soon."
She touched the pad of her thumb to his jaw. "Me neither, Booth. Me neither."
The two remained, like constellations: observing, and guiding, and gleaming strong into the night.