The Dotted Line (A Continuation of The Man in the Outhouse, Spoilers) K+

This is a "What might have been" fic, a continuation of "The Man in the Outhouse"--if you haven't watched that epi, then you might not want to continue reading.


To be honest to you, I never let my mind wander in that direction. That doesn't mean that I haven't. I am human, but that doesn't mean that I don't try to keep my mind from going there. I know what you're thinking. You are thinking, is she a eunuch? Does she have eyes? Is she brain dead? You name it and I've heard it from my best friend on multiple occasions. And every time, I've had to answer: I must be.

I'll be frank. From the first time I laid eyes on him, I thought he was an attractive man. I'm not stupid. I know that Booth is a good looking man.

But there's that line.

And then there's my integrity.

I'm the kind of woman who stands by her word.

On a warm summer afternoon, I found my way to George Washington Park and watched my partner put his son into the saddle of a pony on the carousel. The wind blew, bringing the scent of kettle corn and hot dogs in my direction as I approached. I settled on the bench beside him. I knew he would be there. Then he drew the line. And I've always respected that line. The one man on this planet who has stood by me through the fat and the thin is also the same person who I would never hurt. I've never known anybody who has stood by my side for so long. There is nothing in this world that I would do to break that trust. So I respected that line. And so did he.

I've come to realize that the line he drew was a dotted line. There are spaces between the dashes. And on that night, the dashes grew just a little farther apart. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head. He is no genius, mind you, but he does know things that I've never been able to understand. Just like Sweets said, we complement each other. We fill each other's gaps, professionally speaking. But also socially speaking.

I waited in my apartment for three hours. I cannot even imagine how pitiable that whole scene must have looked. Me in my black date dress that I had just bought for that moment, that night, that date. The date that never was.

At ten minutes to eight, I knew I could wait no more for Mark. I felt jilted and ridiculous. I longed for black slacks and a top rather than this. I would have to explain everything and I knew it. Then there would be pity. I abhor pity. It wipes me the wrong way. However, I had no choice. I had waited until last minute and now there was no time left to change outfits.

I rode the elevator up alone, but when the doors slid open, there he stood. And once again, I reminded myself of the line. For the longest time, I had to remind myself of the line almost verbally. Two years later, however, it had become second nature and was like a smooth undercurrent rather than a near-verbal barrage.

"You look b--nice," his eyes traced my form, then met mine.

"Thank you. You look very nice yourself," I tipped my head in acknowledgment, then we entered Sweets' office.

There I had to bear my shortcomings before he and my partner. God, I cannot tell you how humiliated I felt. I'm pretty sure, though, that my cheeks didn't betray me by turning cherry red. Sometimes I really dislike how Booth butts into my life, but other times I see how he truly means to be helpful and caring. And then I feel like even more of a fool. "I'm considering the argument for monogamy," I stated. Then my eyes flew to his. Although dark, they softened with concern.

"I'm sorry, Bones," and he really did look apologetic.

"All relationships are temporary." The last thing I wanted was for him to feel bad for me.

The next several minutes were among the most poignant of our relationship. And he was right. I knew it. It wasn't rational that I would think that he's right, but when he looked at me like that. There's someone that I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with? But with whom? And I knew.

After a discount dinner date, we sat on the front stoop of my apartment building, both of us thoroughly liquored up. I knew I would have to foster a headache in the morning.

Booth sat one step above me, his feet to the left of my bottom, crazy socks peeping beneath staid black slacks. I'm not a fool. I know that alcohol releases inhibitions, but if I had thought for one minute that I would act so besotted, I would have never put that drink to my mouth. Then again, perhaps I would have done it a lot sooner.

I watched as moths circled a street lamp. I felt like I had a box around my head. Everything echoed and I felt incredibly light. Booth slid down a step and chuckled over some drunken joke he had just made.

"Booth," I addressed him with a slovenly slur. "You've got silly socks, Booth."

Booth laughed. He obviously held his liquor a lot better than I did, because his speech was perfect. As always. "You're drunk, Bones."

"I resent that fact, Booth," I reached out and slid my hand from his shoe up, pulling his hem up a bit so I could examine the said sock.

I think I made him uncomfortable because he jerked his leg away with a muffled laugh. "Woah, there, Bones."

I reached out for the sock again, sliding over so I could close the gap he had just created between us. "Let me see the sock, Booth."

He slid over, I closed the gap.

"Bones, seriously now."

I reached out, he jerked back with a chuckle.

"Are you ticklish, Booth?"

"No!"

"You are!" Booth slid over several feet.

I slid close to him and slid my hand up his pant leg. I think that alcohol is a great solvent for imaginary lines. Booth must have thought so, too, because he grabbed my wrist before I got too friendly with him.

I sat back on the stoop like a petulant child. "What's wrong with me, Booth?" Then came the drunken sobbing.

"What?" He froze and studied my expression.

"Sorry. I'm just incredibly inebriated."

He laughed and slid an arm around my shoulder. "Can't be that drunk if you're throwing around four dollar words like that."

"I'm a sad drunk, I guess. You'll just have to ignore me." Embarrassed for the second time in one evening.

"I'll never ignore you, Bones."

We sat like that in silence for several minutes, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around me.

"Your socks are nice, Booth."

"I wore them just for you."

"What?" I lifted my head to look at him, his warm breath on my neck was seriously dissolving my resolve to stay platonic with the man.

"Look." He lifted the pant leg to reveal Halloween socks with little white bones dancing in a black background.

Then I laughed. I really laughed. He had actually gone out of his way to buy out-of-season bones socks online... for me.

"They look ridiculous."

"Hey, you just said they were nice."

"That's a childish adjective, Booth."

"I don't even know how you can tell what part of speech that is when you're drunk off your ass, Bones."

"I'm not that drunk, Booth."

"Yes. You are."

"I'm not so drunk that I don't remember everything that happened tonight." My voice cracked with the word 'tonight.' More sad-drunk-Brennan. "It's just--First Jason, then Mark, then... I'm such a cry-baby." I chased a tear away with my hand before it had a chance to come to light. "But then you... Thank you, Booth."

"For what?"

I settled my head back on his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist. "You've made this night a hundred percent better." A minute or two passed, neither of us speaking, his hand caressing my shoulder, sending lightning through my body with every stroke. "Booth?" My voice was silent, but much more steady. My emotions were a lot more even by then.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you create that line?"

"What?"

"The line."

His hand grew still. I knew he was thinking. Then he met my gaze. "What line?"

"The--the line. You know the line?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Bones?"

I was completely dumbstruck. "You said, Booth... After Epps poisoned Cam, that there was a line for dating coworkers. Your rationale then was that it was to keep us safe--I mean, the women you date. But I'm already--not that I'm the woman or anything--but I'm in danger constantly. It's just a part of the job. So, that sort of reasoning really doesn't make any sen--"

My words were cut off. But not by what you expect. They were cut off by a sharp involuntary inhalation of cold night air into my lungs as he slid his hand from my shoulder to behind my neck. His thumb slid from my lips to my cheek and he looked at me with that look I had seen countless times before.

"I don't remember any line, Bones," he whispered as he moved in closer. I could feel the pressure of his nose against my cheek. His breath warmed my lips as he hovered millimeters from them.

Be rational, Brennan! "And our partnership? What--What about--?"

"Sometimes you've just gotta pop it into drive, Bones." I could hear his lips parting into a smile. And I so badly wanted to feel his lips on mine again.

"Just kiss me already," I breathed.

He lifted his other hand behind my head and pulled me in for a deep kiss. Our tongues danced, hungrily drinking one another in.

You're always so good!!!!!!

When i watched this epi, i felt too, that something is missing. Like, if Sweets would not be there, I am sure that they would have kissed. Like they had that look... Like they want to do a little tongue-tango...

I Love this story!

there is always a kiss missing at the end.....but in this epi I thought it could really have happend.....
I like your story!

Thank you all! And you're right, every episode deserves a kiss at the end. It's just MHO. heheh

That was amazing!

That ep was just begging for a fanfic to be written continuing the end scene. I know, I could hear it.

Great job!

Thank you!