Crashing Down: A Collection of One-Shots (K+-M)

This compilation of one-shots is also posted, in whole, at ff.net: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]

Title: “Crashing Down“
Author: ForensicMama (MilkMamaReturns@ff.net)
Pairing: Brennan, Booth
Spoilers: Season 4 finale spoilers.
Chapter Summary: Fluff-filled thoughts on the Season 4 Finale. Here's your fluff!
Rating: T/M
Chapter: 1-Shot

Sometimes it felt like he was crashing. But she always seemed to bring him back from the edge before she knew how weak he really was.

He had to be strong. Simple as that.

But if she truly knew how human he was, would she respect him? Sometimes it felt like the respect she had for him was so weakly strung together, cobwebs held together with dew, that any slip-up could bring their relationship to the earth. A fiery cloud of smoke.

But how much longer could he keep up that facade?

Things didn't turn out the way he had imagined. When he played it out in his head, it always began with a little too much to drink, a slip of the tongue, followed by a cold shoulder.

But somehow, every scenario that he'd come up with didn't even come close to what truly happened. When she found out that he was flesh and blood. Because he discovered the same thing about her.

She was at the door.

He pulled on a tee shirt and walked to the door while calling, "Come in."

She didn't come in. She simply waited on the other side, arms crossed, scowl on her face.

The door peeled back.

"Bones. You wanna... come in?" He was bewildered by hot coal burning in her eyes. What had he done? He'd just come out of the hospital twenty minutes ago!

"No," she stated. "I didn't come to socialize. I just came for answers."

"For what, exactly, Bones?" He turned and walked into the apartment. Brennan followed with dammed anger. He snatched up her scarf that was on the couch. "Missing this?"

She whipped it away from him, but then began to point at him with short, jabbing motions. "You--" It took her a moment to voice her fury. "You--You left me." She spun around, hand to head, and muttered, "That isn't rational." Then she spun back, anger renewed, "Why didn't you tell me you were having hallucinations again, Booth? I could have--I could have made connections. I could've--Do you not trust me? Do I mean so little to you that you would hide such a--such a---Why would you do that to me, Booth? I thought we meant more to--not that we--" Hand to head again. It was all too confusing, muddled, mixed-up. "We-we're not, but--we are friends... and partners. Do I have to be your lover for you to share that kind of thing with me? How am I supposed to be trusted with your life if you refuse to tell me this kind of thing, Booth?"

"Bones--I didn't wanna worry you--"

"Worry me? Booth, I sat in the waiting room for three days. They wouldn't even tell me how you were doing because--Because I'm not--" She was breathing so hard, with sadness and anger, that her chest was rising and falling sharply. Tears were budding in her eyes, but they neither fell nor made her voice tremble. "I'm not family, Booth." A tear, hot with anger and pain, slipped to her bottom lip, but true to her character, she didn't fall to the ground in despair. She didn't start bawling and fall into his arms. She stood her ground. "I thought you were dying and... they wouldn't tell me... how you were doing because I'm nothing."

"Bones--" He stepped closer, wanting to pull her close to his chest.

She stepped back. "Don't touch me, Booth. What you did was--" She looked at him. It wasn't a welcoming look. "I'm nothing. Is that why you didn't bother to tell me?"

"Bones, it's not like that--"

"Then how is it, Booth? Last year when you were-- I thought that I would never have to go through that again and there I was-- I don't mean to be selfish, but when two people care about one another, shouldn't they at least prevent... pain?"

"Yeah, they should, Bones--" He stepped closer to her. She was a wild horse and all he wanted to do was tame her. He reached for her arm. She jerked it back. But the walkway was small. She couldn't go far. But he was also smart enough to keep his distance. Just enough space to keep her from lashing out at him.

"Then what does that mean for us?"

He didn't have an answer. He stepped closer to her, trying to touch her. Just once.

She pulled back once again and reached for the door. "Just save it, Booth." She was in the hallway before he could stop her.

She he jogged down the stairwell after her. Bare feet, sweat pants, tee-shirt. It didn't matter.

"Bones!" He shouted after her, jogging down the stairs.

"Don't follow me, Booth." Her voice echoed against the concrete walls.

"Bones, just stop."

She stopped, but she was quick to assert, "You can't tell me what to do, Booth. I'm only your partner, so basically you have no right to tell me what to do." She said it so coolly that it was unnerving to him.

She turned and began to jog back down the stairs.

"Bones, would you just stop?! Bones! Bones! Just stop. You know what, Bones, I screwed up."

That got her to turn. "So you admit it?"

He jogged down until he was standing next to her. "You were right, Bones--"

"I know." Tight lips. Arms crossed.

"When somebody cares about his partner like I care about my partner-- You didn't deserve that, Bones. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you because-- I'm human."

She mulled that comment over for a few moments. "So--what you're saying is that you're subject to misstepping... as we all are?"

There was more to it than that. But, "Yeah."

It took less than a second before she knew that very thing. He wasn't saying everything that was on his mind. She shook her head at him, annoyed, then walked back down the stairs without a second word.

"Bones--" He lept down the last three stairs and blocked her in the doorway.

"What? Do you feel like telling me the truth now?"

"Hey, easy up, Bones. Alright?"

"You still haven't explained yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Tae Kwon Do." She moved to one side. Booth blocked her. She moved again. He blocked her. That back and forth occurred four or five times before Brennan looked like she was going to deck him. Her eyes blazed. "Move out of the way!" She made a quick move to his right.

He wrapped his arms around her and spun her against the wall.

She struggled for a second. "Let me go, Booth."

His voice was as calm as hers, "Not until I tell you a few things, Bones."

"Such as?"

"I didn't tell you because--I didn't want you to think I'm--I'm not good enough for you."

If she didn't look like a frightened animal before, she certainly did then.

"You are my family, Bones. But you're right. I should've told you. We're not just partners." She didn't reply to him at all. So he released her with a wide gesture, his arms slapping against his thighs. "There you go."

She didn't move.

He didn't move.

When the tension reached its pinnacle, when he thought he couldn't take the silence any more, Brennan muttered, "Booth, you're a fool."

He chuckled, defeated, annoyed. Somehow he felt he deserved it. "Yeah--"

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him against the wall. "Because you should've kissed me first." She pressed herself against him roughly. Every sensory preceptor in his body exploded. The feeling of his partner's body against his was more than just arousing. And she hadn't even--

She took his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking slightly before releasing it. Not exactly a kiss, but it was more than enough to kick his libido into high gear. She repeated the gesture, sucking longer. He groaned internally--Well, he thought it was internally, but from the grin on her face, it was definitely out loud.

"You like that?" She whispered.

Woah. This was a different side of his partner. And definitely a very hot side of his partner.

She opened her mouth to him, touching his lips lightly with hers, teasing him. He opened his mouth for her sweet tongue. Instead of kissing him deeply like he had expected, she ran her tongue along the bottom of his lip. Then she kissed his chin. "You didn't shave today," she whispered.

"I was um--" He swallowed hard. In the hospital. Laid up. "Bones, I--" Her hands slipped up his shirt. She let her fingers fall over every curve of his chest and stomach. What was he going to say again?

If it was possible, she pressed even closer to him. "You have a lot of self control for a man, Booth."

"Well--lots of, um, practice--"

That's when he felt her hands slip down his pants. Bad day to wear sweat pants. They just don't--offer as much material as other pants do.

"You find me attractive, don't you?" She knew the answer. The answer was poking her in the pubic bone.

Her breath tickled his ear. She kissed him languidly along his neck, inching her way to his lips, running her tongue against the rough skin of his neck, closing her lips, then sucking lightly.

"Of course I do, Bones."

She hovered over his lips for a second. "Then give up," she dared him.

He took that challenge, taking her mouth aggressively, quarreling with her tongue, demanding a deeper touch. Closer. Softer. Faster. Quicker. More. It had been a long time since he felt so out of control around a woman. And NEVER had he ever felt so out of control when it came to Brennan. And it didn't help that she was wrapping her leg around his waist.

"Booth--"

"Huh--" He grabbed her butt, pulling her off balance. She wrapped both legs around him. He pressed her against the wall.

"Booth." Between heavy breaths.

"What?" He looked into her eyes.

"We should go upstairs."

He grinned. "Thought you'd never ask." He didn't even let her feet touch the ground. He ran up the stairs, skipping every other step until they were inside of his apartment. Clothing was thrown off at unheard of speeds. He didn't even remember removing her bra. Or maybe she had?

How many times in his life had he felt like he was losing control around Brennan? Now he knew there was level of frenzied mania that he'd never even tapped until that moment. That moment that he was touching his partner. Her round, soft breasts, her stomach, tight and flat. Her hips and thighs, so feminine. Kissing her. Her kissing him. Making love to Brennan.

Time slowed.

And the world never made more sense in the midst of all of that chaos.

Because she made him a stronger man.

Instead of creating post after post of one-shots, I've decided to compile them in this post. Hope you all don't mind. Sorry about the confusion. Hopefully this cuts down on the bulk here.

-Mama

I like the idea
and I loved this one-shot
great work

Totally AWESOME!!!

But I beg to differ...Booth is the strongest man.

Totally. xD

Title: “Monty & the Doctor“
Author: ForensicMama (MilkMamaReturns@ff.net)
Pairing: Dr. Wyatt, Brennan, Angela
Spoilers: S4: The Bones that Foam, S2: The Priest in the Churchyard
Chapter Summary: Brennan invites Dr. Wyatt out to drinks at the Royal Diner before the having dinner with Booth at the Founding Fathers Bar. She comes for work advice, but leaves with advice of another sort.
Rating: K+
Chapter: 1-Shot


He sipped from the white mug. His large nose, crooked from congenital deformity or perhaps from an accident as a child, brushed against the edge of the cup.

For a moment, her mind wandered to the proportions of his face. She sipped her coffee.

He put down his tea-cup, crossing his arms across the table. “Shall we talk, Dr. Brennan, or are we simply going to stare at one another?”

“Sorry. I’m not exactly feeling talkative.”

“And yet you asked me out for a drink. A tête-à-tête over tea and café au lait.” He sipped again, finger tips on both sides of the cup. He set it down, eyes on the doctor. “Talkers are no good doers,” Wyatt challenged.

“William Shakespeare.”

“Ah. Quite right, Dr. Brennan. Now, I suppose that if Monsieur Shakespeare were incorrect, then your business would be moot.”

Brennan leaned forward a bit, thoughtfully, “Booth says that having a psychological advantage over the suspects is inherent. When I was in the interrogation room, I thought I was doing fine. I planned my strategy all day, but as it turns out, I was quite ineffective.”

Wyatt smiled and sat back a little bit, clutching his arms over his chest. “So, I take it that this need to be one with your partner is still as acute as ever.”

“Technically speaking, he is better in that area than I am. However–”

“You find it humiliating that you are not as strong in that domain.”

“Yes. I’ve never been bad at any one thing.” She leaned forward a bit. “You’ve interrogated suspects, correct?”

“Dr. Brennan, this is about you and Agent Booth, not about my interrogation expertise.”

“I’m not deflecting, Dr. Wyatt. I simply want to know whether or not I can better myself–”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Bettered yourself, Dr. Brennan.”

“I went over a handful of techniques with Dr. Sweets, going over facial expressions and how to react to said expressions.”

“There are some things that cannot be learned, Dr. Brennan. When we accept that we are fallible, weak, subject to imperfection, we open ourselves to judgment.”

Brennan sipped carefully. Put her mug to the table. “So, what you’re saying is that this is normal?”

“One hundred percent.”

“And I’ve opened myself to criticism, which can only better my skill.”

“Precisely.” He smiled, almost amused. Drank. Than spoke over his tea cup. “So, since we last saw one another, have there been any, I don’t know, developments between you and your partner?”

Brennan smiled. “Such as?”

“Oh. I don’t know. It’s better that I don’t put ideas in your mind, rather that I hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

“Nothing of that nature, Dr. Wyatt.”

“So. Your relationship is the same as it was two years ago when we last spoke? Exactly, precisely, tantamount as when last we sat in these very chairs.”

“Of course not. Nothing is static. We, as humans and as subjects to biological and scientific laws, are always changing.”

“So, we are all moving toward something?”

“Yes.”

“What, exactly, is that something for you and Agent Booth?” He made an impish smile.

Brennan was not so easily tricked. “Booth and I are just partners. If you’re implying that we’re moving toward a romantic relationship, you’re wrong. We’re friends. Nothing more.”

“I didn’t imply anything of the sort, Dr. Brennan. You’re reading into my words.”

“Besides, our ideals are completely different. We are incompatible–”

“Such as?”

“Love. For him, it’s as physically real as you or me.”

“And what do you say it is?”

“It’s not what I say, Dr. Wyatt. It’s a scientific fact that love is nothing but a release of serotonin, a rush of endorphins, all necessary for propagation and survival of the species. Any other interpretation is a societal construct.”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, Dr. Brennan.”

“Shakespeare again, but quoting a dead playwright isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

“How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?”

“I’m not familiar with that one. Bates?”

“Albert Einstein.” He gestured at her with his spoon, then stirred Sweet 'N Low into his tea.

Taken off guard, Brennan was formulating an answer when Angela walked up behind her best friend. “Hey, sweetie.” Her eyes fell on Dr. Wyatt. “Hey, Monty, what are you two doing here?”

Wyatt smiled. “Averting our eyes, oh Lord.”

Angela smiled back. “Well, don’t. It’s just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing. Now knock it off.”

Brennan looked confused. “What are you two talking about now?”

Angela sat down beside Brennan. “Booth is waiting for you outside, sweetie. Now run off, so I can have the good doctor here to myself.”

“Booth is here already?” Brennan stood and looked at her cell, noticing a missed call. “Excuse me, Dr. Wyatt, Booth and I have dinner plans.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course.”

Brennan put her jacket back on. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to volley the Einstein quote. Then she said, “It was nice to see you again, Dr. Wyatt.”

“And you. Ta-ta, Dr. Brennan.”

Angela waited until Brennan had walked out of the diner and climbed into Booth’s SUV before she spoke. “So what’s with all of this love talk?”

“I’m retired, Ms Montenegro. My priorities have changed.”

“So you told her that she and Booth are being ridiculous and should just put us all out of our misery already?”

“Love is begun by time, And time qualifies the spark and fire of it,” he quoted.

“If that’s true, those two are just about to internally combust.”

“Touché, my dear.”

Angela reached over and stole a fry. “Good fries.”

“And might I commend you on your ability to quote Monty Python. You are a woman after my own heart.”

She stole another fry. “I studied up just for you… Monty.

Title: “A Hundred Tomorrows“
Author: ForensicMama (MilkMamaReturns@ff.net)
Pairing: Booth, Brennan, & ???? (surprise guest)
Spoilers: Possibly S4 ending spoilers.
Chapter Summary: Not tonight. Tomorrow. There would be a hundred more tomorrows.
Rating: K+
Chapter: 1-Shot





His mind refused to rest. He knew it was coming and he found that he couldn't stand the thought of missing his cue.

He adjusted the throw pillow beneath his head and continued to stare at the ceiling. The soft hum of the refrigerator motor should have soothed him to sleep, but instead it only kept his mind running an octave above its usual volume, going over the past seventy-two hours again and again. Three days and the world had turned. Was it a good change? When he was in a good mood. But at one in the morning and with less than eight hours of sleep since the weekend began, he was beyond pessimistic.

The lamp outside of Brennan's window cast a stripe pattern of light through the slats and across is bare chest. A gurgle of forced-air heat. Cars rushing by in the street blow with a low whir.

He turned again, this time facing the back of the couch.

His mind still ran.

No. This wasn't the way he'd pictured any of this. But he wouldn't take it back for the world. Not if it meant giving him back.

He twisted again; the sheets looping around his knees.

He sat up abruptly, running a finger through messy hair. Not a drop of gel had touched it in days. Funny how things like personal appearance go on the back-burner when other things are on your mind.

He put his feet to the icy hardwood floors, walked to the adjoining room, and turned on the tap. While it ran, growing cooler, he searched blindly for the right cabinet. Finally, he pulled out a glass and filled it to the brim. Water splashed over, moistening his finger tips.

He drank, guzzled.

The glass went into the sink and he walked around the apartment. There was just enough illumination from the moon and streetlights to light where his feet fell.

Finally, the sound he had been waiting for all night broke out.

A soft cry. Almost like a cat or a small animal, but in three days it had become so familiar to him that he could have easily found his way to it in a crowded subway tunnel.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh," he whispered, opening the door and walking in. He walked to the corner of the room and pulled the little infant to his chest. He bounced softly, whispering, soothing, rubbing his hand along his tiny spine. He could cover most of his downy-soft head in one hand, hold him in the palm of another. The tiny body squirmed angrily in baggy blue pajamas. After a minute he turned his head, finding the first available thing and began to suck at his fist. "Hey there, little man. Daddy's got you. Shhhh..." He kissed the child's head. A second later, the fist popped out and cries erupted once again.

He walked to the edge of the crib and began to dig. Once again, blindly. His fingers hit pay-dirt, brushing against a small plastic object. He plucked it from between the folds of a knit blanket and pressed the pacifier into the infant's mouth. He sucked hungrily.

"Hungry? Yeah. I don't exactly have what you're lookin' for, Buddy."

"You should've taken him to me."

Booth turned to see his partner, hair down and mussed, a large tee-shirt barely hiding swollen breasts and a soft tummy, and a pair of his own pajama pants. But how was it that she never looked more lovely? Ironic since she probably never felt worse in her life. Tired, sore, dark circles beneath her eyes, bleeding, lactating.

"Didn't wanna wake you."

Brennan walked slowly toward him. Every step was still rather painful, but she didn't let that show on her face. "I'm his mother, Booth." She held out her arms to him.

He didn't relent. "You should be sleeping, Bones."

"I have a responsibility, Booth. Give him here."

"No. Go back to bed."

"Booth, I'm way too tired and in way too much pain to play this game. Just give him here."

Booth sighed and handed the infant over.

Brennan held him on her shoulder and walked over to the glider, pulling a Boppy over her lap.

As the infant latched, Booth stood back awkwardly. Should he look? Should he act as if he wasn't in the room? Stare at the sage green curtains? The little blue bear embroidered with his name?

"I don't mind if you look, Booth."

He looked. Next to her engorged breast, the baby's head was incredibly small.

"Does it... hurt?"

"No, actually. He has a good latch. Besides, my milk has finally come in. It actually feels good." She smiled up at him. Nervously. Anxiously. Sweetly.

"Well, I guess that's a good thing, right? He's probably been starving."

"Not really," she said quickly. "Colostrum is all an infant needs in the first days of life. He's been just fine..." she trailed off on that last syllable as she looked down. His perfect pink cheek, dark lashes, fawn hair, wrinkled hands balled in fists...

He sensed the change in her demeanor. From educative to admiring.

He walked over to the edge of the chair and knelt beside her.

Together, silently, lovingly, they watched as he nursed. He reached out and ran a finger along the boy's flushed cheek.

"He's beautiful," she whispered.

"Yeah he is," he replied softly. Time stretched between them. Then he whispered, "Soon enough he'll have girls falling all over him."

She looked at him. Chastising. Serious.. "Not every man's goal is to have women fall at his feet."

Booth laughed, teasingly, cockily. "Bones, he's my son. Of course he'll have girls falling all over him."

"Well," she sighed, looking back down at the child in her arms. "If he's anything like his father..."

"I'm not a man-whore, Bones."

"I didn't say anything of the sort." She looked at him. "Touchy."

"I haven't slept since Friday. I have the right to be a little touchy."

Brennan rested her head back. She allowed her muscles, with the exception of the firm, but gentle grasp she had on the baby, relax.

"Still hurt?" Booth whispered.

She nodded, eyes closed. "If I had any idea how much childbirth hurt, I probably would have adopted." She laughed softly.

"Kind of makes you wonder why women ever want to have more than one, right?" He was jesting, but even that earned him a scientific response.

"Oxytocin. It's a hormone responsible for helping new mothers forget the pain of childbirth..." She almost listed off the other things Oxytocin was responsible for. Lactation. Contractions. Bonding.

"Does your mind ever just shut off?" He teased. He looked back down at the baby. He had fallen asleep, unlatched from his mother, and his tongue was twitching in rhythm with his dream-nursing. He looked thoroughly and blissfully stuffed. Lucky kid.

By then, Brennan was asleep. Suspended in a world where she couldn't make her eyes open, but she was taking in every sensation and every sound. Exhaustion.

Booth reached over, sliding his hands beneath the baby. He took him and stood up. He rocked him softly in his arms. He couldn't get over how beautiful he was. How perfectly formed. Skin slightly yellowed from jaundice, eyes that were bluish-gray when open, skinny wrinkled fingers that flexed and closed, flexed and closed, hair that stood on end like feathers, a face that even at such a young age reflected his partner in every way that he had wished.

He pulled his elbow, where the baby's head rested, closer to his mouth, touching his lips to the baby's head. "I love you, baby boy."

He glanced over to make sure Brennan was still asleep. She hadn't budged. Eyes were screwed shut. He smiled. Then walked to the bassinet and laid his son down.

He squatted beside the glider. Touched her arm gently. "Bones."

Her eyes opened slightly. "Hm?" Her vocal cords vibrated just enough to be barely heard.

"Why don't you go lay down?"

A negative sound. No, she couldn't bring herself to move.

"OK, then. You only leave me one choice, Bones." He stood, taking her hand, and pulled her to a stand.

"Booth--" a soft complaint.

Then he lifted her feet off the ground.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Yes, I do."

He maneuvered himself through the threshold and to her bedroom. He laid her among the disheveled blankets. Then covered her carefully.

"Get some sleep, Bones." He flicked off the lamp.

"Booth." Barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" He walked back over, moving closer to her so he could hear her voice. Her eyes were barely open. Just enough energy expended to see his silhouette against the hallway light.

He sat on the edge of her bed.

"You're a good father." Hormones, or for whatever reason, a tear slipped to the pillow case.

He moved closer, tenderly kissed her forehead, then rested his forehead against hers. "You're a good mom, Bones. I never doubted it. Not even for a second." He sat back. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was still awake.

The coils in the bed rebounded as he lifted his weight, stood, walked to the door. He hesitated there, looking back at the sleeping outline of his partner against rumpled sheets. He fought with his id as he closed the door.

Not tonight. Tomorrow. There would be a hundred more tomorrows.

Yeah, this was another take on the tuck-her-in-scenario... ROFL... What's wrong with my brain??? It's also a play on the baby-fic.

You know, psychologists would say that by taking or writing about certain things we reveal our hidden desires soooooo...... :]

lovely! I like these one-shots!!

I loved the two new one-shots
Can't wait for more!

Thanks ladies!

*Vodzu* wrote:You know, psychologists would say that by taking or writing about certain things we reveal our hidden desires soooooo...... :]

So...? I want to make a baby with Booth? Have another baby (NO!!!)? Breastfeed (check)?
Mostly I was kind of writing about my own experiences in that department.

Title: “An Excerpt From Season Five“
Author: ForensicMama ()
Pairing: Brennan, Booth & Angela, Cam
Spoilers: Season 4 aired episodes & Season 4 finale spoilers.
Chapter Summary: I love case fics. But I also think there needs to be some love!
Rating: K+ (Clean love in this case.)
Chapter: 1-Shot



Cam had not yet seen the newest intern, one Shawn Lynn. As much as she liked the freshness of having a new intern, it still meant breaking them in and deflecting Brennan's verbal assaults. Needless to say, she did not look forward to having new ones come into the lab. The good thing, though, was that they could fit a new person into the rotation, giving the other interns a mental and physical break after a long case, not to mention time to catch up on their graduate and thesis work.

She buttoned her jacket and pulled gloves on as she walked onto the platform. "What do we have here?"

Angela was standing next to the body with her sketch pad, ready to go, "Looks like a mix between The Swamp Thing and Cousin It."

Cam looked over the body. "Somebody really was mad about that Milli Vanilli hoax." Angela laughed at her boss's joke. "So, have you met Mr. Lynn yet?"

Angela grinned. "Have I seen him? Oh, I've seen him and WOW."

That got Cam's interest. "Still doing the celibacy thing?"

"I bought a vibrator," she informed Cam. "But that's beside the point. I could be getting sex every night and still be sane enough to see that Mr. Lynn should be modeling underwear, not lab coats."

"That good, huh?" Cam asked absently, looking over the body. "Looks as if the flesh has been stripped from chest, shaved."

"Disgusting isn't it? Now lay your eyes on that,"Angela nodded. They both looked up to watch as Shawn Lynn walked up to the two women. Was he gorgeous? Yes, indeed. Did his grin make you want to throw yourself into his arms? You bet. Did it make you want to defile the sanctity of the lab? You better believe it. "No ring," Angela whispered to Cam.

Shawn smiled. "Uh, hi." Unsurely.

Cam realized she was staring. "Sorry, you're just not what I expected."

"I get that a lot. I actually taught biology for a few years at the U. Finally decided to go back and go after my real passion. Turning forty does that, I guess." His voice was sexy, smooth, deep.

"Wow," Angela said, ogling. "Forty. I wouldn't have guessed more than twenty-eight. You work out?"

Mr. Lynn grinned, obviously pleased with the flirtatious attitude of the lovely lab women. "I try to stay fit, yeah."

"I can tell," Cam replied.

"So, the body--"

"Oh, yes, the body. Why don't you go over what you can for now. Dr. Hodgins will go over particulates and I'll--I'll just be over here. Watching. Not that I'm staring. Just supervising."

Angela grinned and followed Cam off the platform. "He's cute," she said when they were out of ear-shot.

"I hadn't noticed," Cam replied.

"Oh, please. I hate to go all High School on you, but you're single, he's single and obviously very smart and it's not like you'll be robbing the cradle or anything."

Cam sighed, sitting on a nearby desk. "I don't really have time to get into a relationship right now. You know... Michelle's still trying to deal with the loss of her father, so--she just really needs someone to just be there for her."

"What? You think that all single moms are doomed to celibacy? Give it up, Cam. When was the last time you went on a date?"

In fact, it had been a while. All summer, she hadn't even thought about seeing any men. Her mind had been on her newly pieced together family.

"Exactly," Angela said. "You never know what's gonna happen unless you open yourself up to a relationship. Take it one day at a time."

Cam smiled. "I'm impressed, Angela. That's some solid advice."

"What can I say? Not getting any is turning me into a total Love Guru."

***

Booth pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the small clinic. It didn't exactly advertise its reason for existence, but every desperately pregnant young woman within a hundred miles knew why it was there. Some even had it on speed-dial, but that's another story.

Brennan slowly got out of the SUV. Booth ran around and met her.

"Angela said that the clinic got a restraining order against Aaron Kelnston. He threatened the lead doctor."

They walked up the walk, side by side. He reached out, letting his hand linger over her bottom. She swatted it away absently.

"Wasn't very happy about his girlfriend getting an abortion?"

"Apparently not. Perhaps he was Catholic. Maybe he didn't believe in pro-choice." Brennan challenged, standing straight-backed to Booth as they waited at the in-patient desk.

"Oh, no, we're not going there again, Bones," he muttered, slamming his hand on the bell.

A nurse walked up to the front desk. "Have an appointment?" She asked, before letting her eyes travel southward. "I think you're a little late, ma'am. By law, we don't do anything after thirteen weeks."

Booth held up his badge. "Actually, we'd like to talk to Dr. Blair."

The woman coolly took the ID from Booth, reading it, looking at the man in front of him, reading, looking, as if she'd been through this process a hundred times. She slid her fingers into the pocket, making sure it was legit, then she handed it back. "You can wait in Dr. Blair's office, Agent Booth. It's around the corner, first door on the left. He's seeing a patient right now, so it may be a few minutes."

Booth smiled at the woman. Then he and Brennan walked toward the back. He led her through the door, hand on her butt. She slapped it away.

"Can't you control yourself?" She scolded.

"Not around you," he whispered. They took their seats on small couch.

He straightened his tie.

Brennan examined the room carefully. Some pictures were of the doctor with babies. Others were of him with happy, childless women. It was an odd combination and the pictures of the doctor with babies with smiling mothers was even more puzzling.

Booth grinned. She wasn't paying any attention. He let his hand slide up her leg.

She slapped it away again.

"Not while we're working, Booth. I thought we agreed--"

He sighed audibly.

"You're being very childish, Booth."

"See? You're gonna be a great mom, Bones. You've got that mom voice down to a T."

She tilted her head. Unamused.

He stole a kiss.

She got lost in that kiss for a moment, then pulled back. "Not at work. Somebody has to be the voice of reason, Booth, and we can't be doing this--"

The door opened and the doctor came into the office. He was in his fifties, grayed, but still handsome and friendly. "How can I help you folks?" He took off his jacket and sat across from the pair. His eyes traveled over Brennan's swollen belly.

"Oh, no," Booth said, realizing, "we're not here for that--this, him. We're here for," he flashed his badge, "Do you remember Aaron Kelnston?"

The doctor nodded. "Unfortunately we had to seek a restraining order against Mr. Kelnston. He became dangerously disruptive. I hate doing things that way. It's messy, but in Mr. Kelnston's case, I really had no choice."

"The original police report stated that he threatened to burn the clinic down."

"I had to do something. Besides, it's not like all we do here is help women with their--needs--"

"Abortions," Brennan supplied bluntly.

"Uh, yeah... Anyway, there have been a few cases," he stood and walked to the wall, taking down a couple of photos, the ones with mothers and their babies along with the smiling doctor, "where it was a simple case of depression, not uncommon in the first weeks of pregnancy. I try to make sure that my patients aren't making these decisions on a whim. I'm not in a business of simple termination--"

"Actually, you are," Brennan said. "That's how you make your money, so you really have no other business."

"But I have a conscience." He stood, taking the photos back. "What exactly is this all about, Agent Booth?"

"We found Mr. Kelnston's body," Brennan said. "He was murdered."

He seemed shocked, lowering his head. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, replacing the glasses once again. He took a breath. "In the interest of full disclosure," he stood and walked to a file cabinet, removing a file and handing it to Dr. Brennan. "Lydia Kaufman came into my office asking for a termination. She seemed quite adamant that that was what she wanted, even after a few in-patient visits. Shortly after the procedure, Mr. Kelnston began stalking my office, leaving threats on my answering machine; he even hacked into my email. I had no choice."

"Was he a threat to your business after the restraining order?"

"Actually, no. I received an apology note on my windshield. It's in that file there," he said, pointing. "I didn't hear a thing after that."

Brennan flipped through the file, coming to the end and the hand-written letter. "This is a woman's handwriting, Booth."

"You sure of that?"

"We could give it to Angela, but--" she passed the note to Booth.

He looked it over. It was written with a light hand, curly cursive. "Yeah. Sure looks like it." Booth stood. Brennan stood with him. "Thanks for your time, doc. We'll stay in touch."

"Mind if I take this?" Brennan asked.

"Of course. Anything for your investigation. And may I ask when you're due?"

Brennan paused. "January."

"Congrats to you two."

Brennan was taken off guard. How did he know...?

"Off we go," Booth said, pushing her gently out the office door and closing it behind them.

They got back into the SUV.

"Do you think Lydia wrote the letter?"

"You can do that hand writing analysis thing, right?"

"Angela might know a program," Brennan replied, pulling the seat-belt over her tummy, carefully lining it up along her hip bones.

"Yeah," Booth replied. He found that he was once again staring at his partner.

"Perhaps we should track down Lydia Kaufman. She may know something--" She stopped, realizing that Booth was looking at her in that way again. That goofy, loving grin. "What?"

He reached over, touching her stomach. His hand fell to her arm, then interlocked with her fingers. "You're beautiful, Bones. You know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

"It's the truth. I couldn't be happier that we're doing this together. You and me."

She smiled softly. Their lips met between the seats. A sweet, yet passionate kiss.

She sat back, still smiling. "That's all you get for today, Booth... at least until we get home--I mean, your home. Or mine."

He grinned at the slip. "So you're staying at my place tonight?"

"Maybe," she replied dubiously as the SUV pulled out onto the road.

"Well, maybe I'll make it worth your while," he said, smiling.

She smiled over at him. "Maybe that sounds good."

He squeezed her hand.

.................

Thanks for the reviews!! =) And just as a side-note, this one-shot does not reflect my beliefs in any specific way, it's just a mini-case fic. Take it as you might. It's just how I pictured the scene if this was a case that came along to the team in Season five. And Cam needs a [live] romantic interest already. I vote hot intern.

Thanks for the reviews!! =) And just as a side-note, this one-shot does not reflect my beliefs in any specific way, it's just a mini-case fic. Take it as you might. It's just how I pictured the scene if this was a case that came along to the team in Season five. And Cam needs a [live] romantic interest already. I vote hot intern.

Finally, I got in here and read these one-shots that you've been putting out Mama! So cool! My favorite so far is the sleep deprived parents. My niece just had her first a couple months ago and I've yet to get to visit, so it felt kinda neat reading about a new baby!

I like that you're putting them in a collection to keep from filling up the forum. Good idea!

And again, your sig is great!

Thanks DB! Congrats on your new niece! I wrote that one out of experience lol. A lot of people really loved it, so I'm thinking of writing a fic along the same lines. =)

HI! I am new to these forums, and have just started reading some fics, and can I just say that all your stuff is AMAZING! I find myself now searching for your stories because they are so true to the characters, I can actually believe that they would be doing what you write! Fantastic, I look forward to reading more from you soon!

Thank you so much! Welcome to the ABY! I have a fanfiction site: fanfiction.net/~milkmamareturns
Enjoy. I write anything from K to M, so be forewarned, all depending on my mood, any challenges that have been presented to me, etc. My most recent personal challenge is making stories that are usually "cliche" into not so cliche stories. XD

I've been busy as of late, but have finally gotten the chance to catch up on the stories floating around here. I have to say, these are definitely great. I don't know if I could pick a favorite, simply because they're all good for different reasons, capturing different aspects of the BB relationship. Great job, and I look forward to more.

Thanks!!!

Title: “Summertime Cloudbursts“
Author: ForensicMama (milkmamareturns@ff.net)
Pairing: Brennan, Angela
Spoilers: N/A (Although, I was thinking about a certain spoiler... but nothing was actually said, just implied.)
Chapter Summary: A friend to hold your hand; a friend to sit beside you. This is what every woman needs.
Rating: K
Chapter: 1Shot

In the rain, when the clouds close over the heavens, and the sun is drowned by dense clouds, the world slows. Earth, on its axis so predictable, eases its rotation. Not perceptibly so, but so much that if your mood happens to be just right, you can see clearer--often just a few miles farther. Not enough to be deemed insane, but just enough to see the mountains. Peaks that jut high into the blue, cutting through the mist. Just high enough.

There once was a time where her mother would tell her to come inside. The rain, she said, would make her ill. Time and scientific reasoning made it so that she knew better. The rain was not the culprit. Only susceptibility to a virus. And although that made it so that reasonably so she would not become ill, somehow she wished it were so. She wished that her mother was right. Perhaps if she had a reason to slow the world down, crawl between thick cotton sheets and a warm downy quilt, then she could simply rest until days grew into weeks. Weeks to months. And this would all be a terrible memory. A memory that could be buried by hours of work, bent over lifeless skeletons, bleached white, reflecting the pain she felt inside. And she wouldn't have to say a word. Because they knew how she felt on the inside. Broken. Cold. Alone.

There was something comforting about the shower. It reflected the turmoil within without asking her to cry over it all. She didn't have to shed a tear when the skies were shedding enough to share. She let the warm early summer rain soak through her clothing, her hair, her skirt. She breathed slower, taking it in. A world draped in gray. Cars sliding through streets, splashing up curtains of white. Obscure buildings smudged by an artist's thumb, stained with charcoal dust.

She didn't hear the steps beside her. They were padded by the sounds of the deluge. But she had planned out her words. Every syllable.

But the Walls of Jericho were no match to the warm hand that fell on her shoulder. A moment later, she was no longer the only woman sitting outside of George Washington University Hospital, on a crumbling concrete curb, beneath a summertime cloudburst.

Angela said nothing. She only sat beside Brennan, knowing her friend's secret pain. She reached for her hand. Together they sat. She couldn't promise her that her partner would be OK. She couldn't promise that she would someday get another chance. But she could promise friendship. A warm hand. And a friend to sit beside her when the world was spinning too fast for comfort.

omg, that was.... AWESOME, so intense!

She didn't have to shed a tear when the skies were shedding enough to share.

... and a friend to hold your hand. Sweet and sorrowful.

Aw thank you!!!

Title: “What the Morning Brings“
Author: ForensicMama (milkmamareturns@ff.net)
Pairing: Brennan, Booth
Spoilers: N/A (But you can take it that way if you want.)
Chapter Summary: Loved. Was it truly past tense? Or did he want to still tell the woman in his shower that he wanted to hold her when she cried?
Rating: T
Chapter: 1Shot

"Booth?" She listened for a moment. When she heard nothing, she decided to be quiet. Perhaps they were sleeping? She hung her bag and jacket on Booth's coat hooks, between a tiny green coat and a red bike helmet.

When her cell phone rang, she quickly answered it, hoping she didn't wake the sleeping Booth boys. They would, after all, be inevitably sleeping.

"Hi, Angela."

"Why are you whispering?" Angela sounded half-amused.

"I just walked through the door. Nobody's here--they're probably sleeping." Brennan walked into the kitchen and ran the tap until it ran cool, then took a drink of water.

"Did Booth take him to the hospital? Poor li'l guy."

"I said that it wasn't necessary, but he insisted."

"He's his father, Bren. That's what parents do. They worry."

Brennan wanted to sideline Angela with a precise answer, but somewhere she knew that Angela was absolutely correct.

"I should go."

"Booth have him tonight?"

"Yes."

"Well, I should let you go then. I just wanted to know how Junior was doing. Talk to you later, sweetie."

"Bye, Ange." She folded up her cell phone, sliding it into her pocket, but not before putting it on silent.

She crossed the living room and into Booth's bedroom. The door was closed. She knocked softly. Just enough for him to hear her, but not enough to be woken if he was sleeping.

No answer.

She opened the door a hair and peeped in. Booth was lying on his side, his arm wrapped around his sleeping son whose cheeks were flushed with fever. She laughed at first. God, they were cute. And she knew enough to only admit that to herself. Admitting that aloud could risk tearing down the walls that were so weakly mortared as it was.

But in moments like that. Standing in the doorway. Dim moonlight casting a shadow over the two of them. She wanted to scream that she wanted to be there, too. Laying on her side, her arm around the boy and his father. He would open his eyes and smile, hold her hand and tell her that he loved her. But that wouldn't be like her. She would be a hypocrite for wanting those things. Right?

He must have sensed her in the doorway. He whispered, "Bones?"

"Um," she walked the rest of the way into the bedroom and sat opposite of where the little boy slept. He was on his back, his elbows bent, chubby toddler fingers balled into fists, dark wisps of hair clinging to a sweaty fevered brow. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I picked up some Children's Motrin on the way... didn't know if you had any of that."

"I bought some."

"Oh. Is he... OK?"

"He's fine, Bones. Doctor said it's just a bug. You know. Water, Motrin--"

"I told you." A small smile of triumph.

"What's the point of having health insurance if you don't take him to the hospital, Bones?"

"For major illness or injury. I explained this last time he was sick."

"It's that damn Jeffersonian nursery. It says well-baby, but I've yet to see one sick baby be sent home."

"There isn't much of a choice, Booth. We work full time--"

"That's why I left early."

The child stirred, his face contorting in pain and childlike despair. Then he cried. He opened his eyes, his bottom lip jutting out. "Mama," he whined.

She sighed, leaning over and picking him up. His two-year old legs wrapped around her hips. He was tall for his age which allowed for his ankles to hook. She bounced him, somewhat agitated by his cries and the argument over insurance and nurseries, which was all undermined by the disquietude created by the half-time parenting situation.

The boy continued to cry.

"Just give him here, Bones."

She turned her body to the side. "No. He wants me."

"I'm just trying to help, Bones."

"I just want to hold him, Booth. You don't have to be so testy. You've had him all afternoon!"

The boy screamed louder. They shouted above his cries.

"Because you weren't willing to put off staring at skeletons to take care of our son!"

She glared at him. One of those death-glares that he had once been afraid to create, but now were all too common. Tension of this insane parenting situation coupled with the fact that he found her to be so callous and scientific when all he wanted to do was tell her that he loved her had turned their rage into a literal Montezuma. Maybe all of that love was imagined? Or driven by the sexual tension? Now that's all it was any more. TENSION.

"You're an asshole, Booth."

She walked past him and paused at the door when he said, "Fuck you, Bones." He had wanted to say it for so long. Fuck you. The harshest words in the English language. And as good as they felt being practiced in his head, and as good as they felt rolling off his tongue, he immediately wanted to reel them back in as soon as they were uttered.

That's when Samuel threw up all over his mother. Vomit slipped down her shirt, splashed all over her neck, in her hair, between her cleavage. Chunky, curdled milk, bits of graham cracker, all in a slimy conglomeration of greenish muck.

She froze.

"Oh, Bones." Booth jogged past her, getting a wash rag and moistening it under the sink in the adjoining bathroom. He came back.

"Just get Sam."

He did, taking him to the bed. He was practically untouched by vomit. A slime streak down his chest. A little on his arms and thighs. Nothing like the soaking that had been done to Brennan. After washing him down, it seemed that the release-of-pressure of his twisted stomach and the warm rub-down had soothed him into a light sleep. Booth let him lay there and came back to Brennan, still standing, arms away from her sides, vomit slowly making its way down to her navel and under her slacks.

After some sympathetic looks, Booth took her into the bathroom and closed the door so that the sound of water running wouldn't wake up their son. He rinsed the wash rag and turned to Brennan.

She looked really upset. Her eyes almost looked like they would spill over.

"Kids puke, Bones." Was that as sympathetic as he could get? He was an asshole. "Let me help you." He started with her arms, avoiding her eyes. Was she that upset about being barfed on? Or was it more? Was that just the straw that broke the camel's back? Their son throwing up all over her in mid-fight. The right arm was clean. He rinsed the rag, reached for the next arm. Washed it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the clean hand lifted and wiped away what he imagined were tears. He was afraid to address them and risk embarrassing her. But then again, if he didn't address it, would he hurt her feelings? The same feelings that he didn't have too much regard for when he told her 'fuck you' five minutes before? More guilt.

He looked at her. In her eyes.

"Bones--" He washed her face. Even though there were only a few spatters on her cheeks and chin, he took his time. It felt good having her so close again. Even given the situation. "What's wrong, Bones?"

She didn't want to speak for fear that more tears would spill over. Finally, she whispered, "What have we become?"

"So we fight." He paused and led her to take a seat on the toilet. He began to take off her shoes. "We always fought."

"Bicker, Booth. We bickered. We fight now."

She was right. For once Brennan had corrected him on human matters.

"I don't know, Bones..." He got up, sighing and turned on the shower.

He took her hand, stood her up and began to unbutton her shirt, all the while not looking at her eyes and noting the irony of finally taking off her clothes (again) and not feeling at all like taking her to bed.

He took the shirt off, sliding it over her shoulders. And with that, there was that familiar feeling. Old, but familiar. Although vomit clung to her bra, she was the most beautiful person who had ever stepped into his life. How had he forgotten?

"Things change, I guess," he muttered, ignoring the feeling.

She stepped out of her slacks. And finally, she found her voice again to ask what had been on her mind for several months, "Do you hate me?"

He paused. "No, Bones. Things don't change that much."

But there she was. Sure she was covered in vomit, but she was in her underwear, crying, feeling terrible, and he had only looked in her eyes a handful of times. She nodded and stepped into the shower, leaving the bra and panties on.

"Just gonna leave those on?"

She nodded and closed the shower curtain.

Booth walked out of the bathroom, noting that he needed to snag a towel for her when he came back. On his way, he stopped and looked at their son. So perfect with his dark hair and green-blue eyes. Her chin, his nose. No matter what, they were in it together. No matter what, he would look at the boy he loved and have to tell himself how much he loved her. Loved. Was it truly past tense? Or did he want to still tell the woman in his shower that he wanted to hold her when she cried?

He walked to the laundry room and returned with a puffy Finding Nemo towel in hand. He knocked at the door softly. Not too loud. He didn't want to disturb Sam. When she didn't reply, he walked right in to find his partner looking in the mirror naked.

He closed the door and let himself in. "Brought you a towel." He had noticed her index finger tracing a tiny stretch mark that crept between her pubic bone and her navel. He didn't say anything.

"Thanks, Booth." She brightened artificially and wrapped the towel around her body.

"I think they're beautiful." He leaned against the counter.

"What? What's beautiful?"

He smiled and moved away from the sink, stepping toward her. There was more familiarity. Familiarity in how she received his presence with a sly half-smile. A knowing grin. What was he up to?

He didn't personally know what he was up to. Originally, he thought it was an opening to make up for those terrible words. For all of the terrible words he had said since Samuel was conceived. But as he moved closer and let his thumb touch the hem of the towel, their eyes locked. More familiarity. More of that old feeling. That first (and only) time that they had made love. He tugged at the towel. The tendons in her neck tightened, unsure of how she should react. She wanted that familiarity back, too. She wanted him to look at her the way he was. Teasing. Loving. Sexy. She let the towel fall free. Where a minute before her nudity in front of him was mundane, it was no longer every day. It was sexual. It was personal. It was intimate the way he touched her, letting his fingers tickle her body. He traced the little stretch mark.

"This," he whispered.

She gave him a look of disbelief.

"You said--he rested his head--right here.Our baby boy, Bones. A little of you. A little of me." His fingers began to explore again. And he realized this was the first time he had touched her body since having Samuel. And it was a different body altogether. Curvier. Sexier. Her breasts were fuller, her waist seemed small in comparison. And then there were all of these beautiful reminders of how two became one in this body. His hands against her stomach, firm, broad, warm, familiar. HIS hands took her breath away. Just like before. Just like the first time.

He touched her breasts. "And this is where you fed him."

Her eyebrows met in the middle momentarily. Where was he going with this?

"I love you for that, Bones... for everything... him... this. Sorry I've been such an asshole." It was sincere. She knew that.

He kissed her shoulder. She had to remember to breathe.

He touched her hips. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her butt. But in every touch, she knew it wasn't because she was an object but because he truly did love her. All of her.

She pulled his shirt over his head. Kissed his chest. Let her hands roam over his firm stomach.

Finally their lips met. Hungrily. Wildly. Desperately.

She yanked his pajama pants down around his knees, pushing him against the wall and wrapping a leg around his waist.

"Wait," he said between labored breaths. He looked into those eyes of hers. Clear-blue. The same as ever. "I don't hate you, Bones, I love you."

Being a mother had been a lesson in love. No chemical in the world could make her feel the way she felt for her son. And no bodily reaction could make her feel that way for Booth, either. Barely above a whisper. She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth, but at the same time, she could. "Iloveyou."

They switched positions with Brennan against the wall. He laughed. "When were you going to bother to tell me?"

She looked at him, shook her head a bit, and smiled. "I figured I'd bother to tell you when you bothered to tell me."

He kissed her again.

And when the sun rose again the next morning, Booth smiled. That was the way it should have always been. He slipped his arm over their son and around Brennan's waist, his hand resting on her hip.

She smiled, opening her own eyes to what the morning had brought. She touched his arm. He moved his hand off her hip and held her hand over their son's heart.

Seems we getting into season 6 already

*Vodzu* wrote:Seems we getting into season 6 already

Hehehe. xD