Nicer
Author: wanderingsmith
April 2006
Summary: She did need to be nicer
Warning: B/B, spoilers for 1x18: man in the morgue
Rating: PC-13, some mild swearing
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me
for this.
AN: this was the BEST ep!!!!! ok, enough squeeing here. this
started out being a 6 line ep addy. but Katie convinced me (it
wasn't hard, lol) to go for more
'What a week.' Seeley sprawled on his couch, forearm covering his
eyes. Mind buzzing as he slowly got himself to relax.
The panic that had gripped onto him when she called asking him in that
slow, confused voice what she
was supposed to do next. He wondered how many more times they
could go
through this dance of Temperance being in danger before he lost it and
simply took over a situation. He knew she'd fly off the
handle if he did, but letting her put herself in real danger was
a hell of a strain on his 'alpha male' reflexes.
Even now he wanted to hop on a plane and go beat the living shit right
out of that voodoo bastard. His fist clenched tight as he
remembered seeing her hurt and uncertain, remembered Leger's body and
the realization that that could have been *his* Bones.
Maybe he could find an official reason to get a hold of Kenton
privately... His stress-relieving violent daydream was
interrupted
by the knock at the door.
He blinked when he opened the door to see Bones on his doorstep, odd
smile hovering on
her lips.
"You withheld evidence from a murder investigation?"
He rolled his eyes, frustration still snapping at him and replied
forcefully
"Are you here to lecture me?"
She playfully widened her eyes, catching his attention with an
expression *he* usually used, "No. I'm *here* to be nice
to you"
Ignoring his blinking eyes and open mouth, she stepped up, gripped his
collar with her good hand and kissed him, taking advantage of his shock
to push-step him
backwards into the house, right forearm pushing on his chest. She
hadn't planed to jump on him, but seeing him open the door dishevelled
and disgruntled, the last of her defences crumbled. He had to
know a relationship with her wouldn't be easy, and yet he was still
indicating interest. And she was tired of denying the
attraction. Her
last sane thought was to kick the door
shut
as she crashed them both onto the hallway wall.
The buzzing had turned to a roar, *almost* drowned out by the opened
floodgate of desire coursing through his already hot blood. As
his body hit the wall and hers followed onto him, shock
evaporated and his arms wrapped around her, pulling them into intimate
contact.
He could taste the coppery blood still clinging to her split lip,
feeding the buried fury he still felt at her danger. He slipped a
hand into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, faintly
conscious that she was
letting him take over. Not arguing for dominance. The
tongue that had been insistent for exploration when she'd attacked him
now yielded to his, teasing without impeding; lips matching his.
She tasted of
coffee and blood; and desire. It wasn't until his racing heart
made
him need more air than he could get through his nose and he broke the
kiss that his thoughts cleared.
He could feel her hands combing through his hair. Her eyes opened
slowly, heavy-lidded, as they both panted for breath, glittering gazes
holding. He wanted to keep going, cover the inch of space between
their lips and keep tasting and touching until neither of them had any
self-control left; surrender them both to furious passion.
But he was
thinking
clearly
enough to know that he wasn't willing to risk this woman's presence for
one night
of pleasure. He loved her. Had for long enough to come to
grips
with what he could gain from a relationship with her; and what he
would lose of himself if he lost her, or her friendship. Needed
her not only as his
partner to do his job, but in his life, in any capacity. He'd
been
willing to risk that to keep her alive; he wasn't to make love to
her. He really wasn't. Really.
He wished he believed she felt the same for him, wanted this to be more
than gratitude and physical desire. There had been a few times
lately when he thought he'd seen flashes of deeper feelings from her,
or even just their possibility. But not enough to bet on.
Not on
these stakes.
Hating that he had to do this, he took a deep breath and made himself
pull back. Trying to think of something that would get them back
to stable footings without closing any doors.
<>
The understanding that had crystallized as she stared at her mother's
earing had filled her with a maelstrom of feelings. Love, for his
willingness to trust her above everything, even the rules he held dear,
for his ability to see through her independent façade, for the
intrinsic
kindness he showed her. Fear, for the risk he took with his
career, betting on
his knowledge of her when even she wasn't sure. Anguish, that she
would
disappoint him, be too different, miss an important social cue; hurt
him. And happiness, that he cared, that he thought she was
worth the annoyance she knew she caused him. Too many emotions to
analyze logically.
Yes, objects
could have power. She would always see him when she looked at or
touched that earing. Would again feel protected as she did when
he hovered, almost physically wrapped around her. Feel
cherished, as she did sometimes when he looked at her, tender eyes and
indulgent smile; though she'd tried to tell herself she was
imagining things.
Through the fear trying to claw into her, Temperance couldn't get the
happy
grin on his face out of her mind; 'you should be nicer to
me'.
She still wasn't sure what had possessed her to call
him. She'd been so out of it, scared deep down at the
incomprehensible situation she found herself in. She could have
thought her way to the fact that she needed to call the police and get
to a doctor.
But the only course she'd found herself following was dialling his
cell;
the sound of his voice immediately calming her breathing and clearing
the
fear
from her thoughts.
Once she could think again, she'd tried to
tell him she was fine and would take care of herself; her independence
reawakened, sorry to have worried him. And she had worried
him; his
voice on the phone had been abrupt, speech faster and an octave higher
than usual,
clear Booth signs of agitation. When she'd told him to stay in
DC,
she hadn't really managed to convince herself that he would, nor that
she wanted him to. His
presence at the clinic, his voice breaking... She really should
be nicer to him.
And she did miss his arms around her. She'd managed well enough
when it was just the dream of his them she had to fight; the actual
memory had a lot more power. And with the worry, however she'd
denied it, that had plagued her from the moment she woke on Thursday,
there was a traitorously weak voice at the back of her mind clamouring
for remembered comfort and warmth; safety. Voice strong enough to
dial a
phone, obviously.
Though she still didn't remember the
details from Tuesday night, she was aware that she'd been lucky to
survive. And the need to celebrate life was still there at the
back
of her mind. To reinforce their survival, the fact that they were
together. And his ribs and shoulder weren't in pieces this
time. She frowned at her wrist as she hurried through the halls
of the Jeffersonian, taped up it actually wasn't too
painful. But
it was inconvenient.
She managed to drive to Booth's apartment, still not quite sure what
she was
going to do, just needing to be near him, preferably alone. To
let
him know she was grateful maybe. Though she could imagine his
annoyance if she actually tried to thank him with words.
<>
She was still feeling the giddy pleasure from his kiss, from knowing he
wanted her as much as she did him. Was enjoying looking at him,
really allowing herself to stare as she never had before, knowing he or
Angela would make a fuss about it. Which was why she noticed when
he pulled back mentally. Could see him throw up shields, force
himself calm again.
There was a brief war within her; uncertainty
trying to insist that she had pushed him to something he didn't want,
confidence reminding her of the earing she carried in her pocket, of
the fear he showed for her safety, and the affection she was starting
to recognize in his everyday behaviour.
Confidence won, and she decided he was trying to 'be a
gentleman'. So when he tried to pull away physically, she held
on, kept his head in place with her hands and followed his retreating
body with hers. Meeting his frown with a
glare. "If I
didn't want this Booth, you would be on the ground, your gun in my
pocket and wearing your own handcuffs."
Seeley blinked, her bluntly put reassurance melting away the fear
that they were letting recent events move them too fast, the
way she'd
read his mind making his heart lift, giving him a dose of hope for a
mutual future. He started to grin, not bothering to answer her as
he stopped his
retreat, and instead brought her lips back to his, hands moving to get
rid of her coat.
She was proud of herself when she saw his eyes clear of worry and
return to passionate. She'd not only read him correctly, but had
gotten her message across without misunderstanding. Maybe he had
taught her some things. Or maybe he was the one person who could
understand her sometimes odd language.
"So you're going to start clamouring for my handcuffs as well as my
gun now?" His lips had only pulled back enough to talk.
She smirked teasingly, "Only in private, Booth. When it's just
you... and me." Her good hand cupped his jaw and pulled him back
to her, kissing
him again, challenging him for lead. Hands continuing to smooth
through his too-short hair, the warmth from his big body seeping
through their clothe, filling that denied need for comfort. And
waking other needs that had been denied even longer.
His hands glided down her back, moulding her to him as he deepened the
kiss, sending up a last prayer that this was a beginning and not the
end.
AN: I'm
stooping this here for now; sorry Kate! I really really
tried to peek into the rest of he scene... but the curtains were
steel!! lol Who knows, maybe one day soon I'll find a better
blowtorch and can write either a sequel or delayed ch2...
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