Feeling good. (Angst leading to...Tis all good, I promise!)

This is just something silly I jotted down today. Not much point to it but it helped pass the time!
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The whisper of breath against her neck. The assured touch against her waist. No wonder he was the only one who could leave her lost for words.

A blank sightless eye. The twisted claw of a hand. A spine wrenched in agony. Unsurprising that she occasionally felt her lunch heave inside her.

The intense thrill of an unsolved puzzle. The heady feeling of satisfaction when she was able to tell the families what exactly had happened to their loved ones. There were some days when she simply and utterly adored her job.

The fiery look he got in his eyes when questioning suspects. How he could lick his lips with such fervour when lost in concentration. The authoritative way he could handle a weapon. Quite natural to find her thighs tingling in his presence.

The frailty of human life. The pathetic squandered opportunities. The potential, the promise, the abundance of chances...all cut so horrifically short. Funny that her work hadn’t opened her eyes to this sad realisation months before.
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Brennan was unusually quiet during the drive back. She spent the entire journey worrying a loose thread in her suit jacket. Once, she raised her hand as though to speak, but the moment passed without a sound. Her hand returned to her lap with a weighty smack. Booth flicked his gaze towards her every now and again but didn’t comment. His fingers felt frozen. His head felt numb and achingly heavy.
There was an eerie silence when they entered the lab. This was made all the more poignant by the fact that the entire team stood waiting for them on the platform, at a complete loss for words. Now was not the time for witty repertoire or gentle wisecracking. Booth ascended the steps first, nodding tersely at the ground in greeting. Brennan just sighed as she trotted behind him and reached up to twist her hair into a bun.

Cam raised her eyebrows and the two partners began their report. Suddenly the doors burst open and the three bodies were wheeled in. Brennan concluded her findings at a slightly louder pitch as the deceased were laid out for examination. The tension in the room instantly dissipated as everyone sprang to their usual stations, eager to fulfil their familiar roles. This could just be another case. Heck, months from now it would be an old, somewhat hazy, case. For the moment they would use this knowledge to help them get through it.

By noon Angela had completed one of the facial reconstructions. At 13:53 precisely Cam finished her examination and retreated to her office to begin writing up her preliminary findings. The word ‘rape’ would appear far more than she would like, enough so that twenty minutes in she would pause to raise her hand to her mouth, briefly unsure whether or not she would lose her breakfast. Brennan began her inspection within seconds of Cam snapping off her gloves. About three quarters of an hour later, Hodgins found evidence of chloroform on the blouse of one of the women. Angela finished the second of the reconstructions. Just before six o’ clock one of the women had been identified as Sophia Thompson. DNA analysis found that the little girl lying beside her was a relative. It was around this time that Booth had stepped out and punched a wall in the men’s restroom. He had always loved the idea of having a daughter.

It was close to midnight when Booth finally drove Brennan home. All three victims had been identified: Sophia, her four-year-old daughter Lucy, and Sophia’s friend Mariana. Both women were twenty-six years old. The partners had visited both sets of families. Booth had split his knuckle thumping the steering wheel as they drove away from the second house. Brennan had found evidence of blunt force trauma to Mariana’s skull. She had also discovered that little Lucy had been tortured with a knife, slicing her arm and ribs right down to the bone. She had delayed for over a half hour before telling Booth this.

Booth parked the vehicle on autopilot and found himself standing out on the pavement without being fully aware of how he had gotten there. He knew better than to try and open Brennan’s door for her but permitted himself to take hold of her elbow as she exited the SUV. She let him. The partners entered Brennan’s building in silence, Booth’s arms flapping somewhat uselessly against his sides as he trudged along.

Brennan huffed a bit at the door when she had trouble removing her keys from her pocket. As a result of this, she shoved the door open with more force than necessary and tripped ever so slightly at the threshold. Booth reached out a hand to help her but she had already righted herself. Not entirely sure of why he was doing it, he instead reached up and swept a lock of hair from the side of her face up onto the crown of her head. She turned her head slowly to him but her eyes held no question.

Brennan moved on into the darkness and headed towards the kitchen. Booth closed the front door quietly as he heard the sound of the kettle boiling. He scuffed his shoes against the floor. He began pulling at his earlobe as he joined Brennan, coolly observing her precise, focused movements. She raised a mug at him in silent query and he nodded, before walking over to the fridge to take out some milk. Neither partner had turned on any lights so the glow from the fridge’s depths blinded him momentarily. Squinting furiously he handed Brennan the carton and she finished making the drinks and padded off towards the sofa. He followed, taking a cautious sip with an expectant grimace. He normally couldn’t stand instant coffee but found it just about tolerable during these late night visits with her. They both knew they wouldn’t be sleeping tonight anyway so they might as well suffer together.

The two perched on the seat with loud heavy sighs, then caught each other’s gazes and smiled with tight lips. He bumped his cup against hers in a mock jovial salute and declared, “We’ll get them.” Brennan dipped her head because she didn’t know how to reply but drank greedily in response to his toast. Silence rang in their ears for the next few minutes. Booth eventually set his empty mug on the coffee table and settled himself back, knocking his knee playfully against Brennan’s as he did. She raised her eyebrows with a smile as he growled, “So how’re ya doin’, kid?” in his best Clint Eastwood impersonation. The reference was lost on her but it did break the tension that had been steadily building. She shrugged her shoulders delicately as her mug joined his and she shuffled back beside him.

She began fiddling with her earring as she closed her eyes contentedly, soothed by the steady rhythm of his breathing. Beside her she heard Booth begin to tap out a jaunty beat with his fingers. Presently, with a laugh, she felt him move his hands onto her lap to continue the musical performance. Chuckling, she opened her eyes and glanced over at him. He, however, was sitting quite rigidly and staring intently downwards. With a tingle she realised his hands had stilled and were now resting against the surface of her thighs. She opened her mouth to say something but the only sound she made was a ragged muted gasp. His gaze flew to hers.

Her thoughts were in turmoil, swirling and flitting through her consciousness almost too quickly for her to register. She heard Angela’s delighted laugh. She saw Cam’s amused expression, lips gently quirked. She pictured the curious sceptical faces of the FBI forensics team whenever they saw the two partners together. She felt little Lucy’s bones against her trembling fingertips and smelt the sterile scent of the lab. Her elbow twitched with the memory of hours of paperwork. She heard her father’s voice, softly telling her to be happy above all else. Then she saw Booth, sitting in front of her.

His eyes were focused, trained on her. She could see tension in his neck and weariness in his shoulders. His palms were scorching her through the fabric of her suit. He licked his lips, cleared his throat hurriedly, and then swept his tongue over his lips once more.

“Bones....sometimes...sometimes you really have to stop thinking. Just stop thinking and let yourself feel.”

She felt scared. She felt angry at him for putting her in this awkward position. She felt bone-weary after her long day and their draining case. She felt tense over what the other squints would say. She felt embarrassed about the reaction her father might have. Above all, though, she felt excited, almost as if her very cells were trembling in expectation. She wanted him. Had done for a long time. She just hadn’t allowed herself to feel it or acknowledge it fully, shrouding it with other thoughts and rational counter-arguments.

Her breath hitched for the briefest of seconds before she dropped her hand down on top of his and tentatively drew his palm further up her thigh. A guttural groan vibrated in his throat as he leaned toward her, one hand moving up to touch her jaw while the other pressed more firmly against her leg. She was the one who met his lips in a searing kiss. Their mouths fused together as her fingers reached up to touch his chest. A tiny whimper escaped her as he swept his arm down her leg and under her knees, forcing her to lie down so he could settle himself over her. His weight on her felt so primitive that the muscles of her abdomen and legs seemed to quiver with need.

He growled into her neck, the rumble of this shooting down her back, causing her to undulate her hips. He bit down gently on her lower lip in response and had to use his arms briefly to steady himself. She darted her tongue out and traced the contours of his mouth. A spasm seemed to burst through his lower back and he murmured something incomprehensible into her hair. A self-conscious giggle escaped her as she reached up to tentatively touch his face. He kissed her fingertips. She wrapped her foot teasingly around the back of his calf as his mouth engulfed hers again. Presently, their kisses became languid and drawn-out and he eventually shuffled in to lie beside her. She pulled down a blanket that was thrown decoratively over the top of the sofa. Facing each other, the partners fell into a deep sleep.

At around four in the morning, her hand drifted down below his waist and began a tantalizing and thorough exploration. He grabbed her wrist with a throaty gasp. Garments and the blanket were shed and the moonlight played upon the rippling surface of his back and the cadenced tension and release of the muscles in his posterior. Moans and husky sighs filled the apartment, culminating in a single prolonged cry, offset by hoarse lower-pitched groan. Silence reigned once more as trembling limbs reached out and enveloped each other in twinned comforting gestures. The process was repeated at five a.m. And again at six.

The sun’s rays found the partners still entwined on the couch, both looking into the other’s eyes with identical small smiles. Brennan’s leg slipped in between Booth’s and he closed his eyes briefly with a swallow. Her smile widened. He drew her in for a lengthy kiss. She could feel his grin. Soon, they would have to get up and return to their professional roles. They must once again confront the horror of their present case and the heartbreak of the victims’ families. But these memories and these overwhelming feelings would help them through. As would the knowledge that a repeat performance that night was undoubtedly certain. Both of them would make sure of it.

*sigh* That was just...*sigh*

Sad, sweet, and wonderfully fluffy there at the end. It's really the ultimate in hurt/comfort - both are hurting from the horrors they face, and both find comfort in each other. Wonderful.

RM