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If nothing else, Bones is fan-fucking-tastic at taking ridiculous fanfic tropes and translating them to screen.
Temprance rolls off of him with a sigh. He's still flat on his back, so she curls up next to him, head on his shoulder and her body close in the chill of the room. His window is still open from earlier in the day, when he must have opened it to air out the room from the dust of moving.
"Wow," he says and takes another deep breath. She notices she too is still breathing rather hard. She supposes it is to be expected. They had exerted themselves.
"We can never tell my brother about this," he says, voice firm, and she lifts her head up to see if he is serious. The look on this Booth's face is one she recognizes from a hundred other situations.
None like this though.
She doesn't say anything. She wonders why he thinks Booth would care what she does in her free time.
No. Strike that. That's a fallacy.
She's been trying, with mixed results, to be more honest with herself, with her feelings, since Zack . . . since Zack. There are thing about the human condition she does not understand, but there are also things she willfully misunderstands.
Like this. Like lying naked and sated next to Seely Booth's brother.
Words she would give no creedence were Sweets to speak them rush through her mind. Displacement. Distraction. Substitute.
She willinging went to Jared's bed. She never closed her eyes and pretended he was someone else.
She could have. She thinks Jared is enough of a gentleman, if he is anything like his brother, to allow her the slip.
And it would have been easy. When her eyes did close, the similarities were more pronounced than the differences. She might have noticed a lack in the breadth of his shoulders, but other things, important biological clues were there.
And while she might speculate that some relative gives all the Booth sons the same aftershave for Christmas, there were other less tanginble, less obvious signs.
Like the way Jared kissed her, like she was the center of his attention, like Booth when she was onto something during a case. Like the way his hands found the small of her back when she was arched underneath him. Like the way his eyes watched her when he went down on her, made sure she liked what he was doing (she did), made sure she came first before sliding up her body and letting her choose their position.
Jared scrubs his hands through her hair and sighs. She can hear and feel his heartbeat slowing from her head's position on his chest. He's rapidly approaching sleep, but she thinks he might be fighting it in order to see what she has to say.
Her fingers trace a line of muscle across his chest. If nothing else, the Booth brothers have very good genes.
But that, that is another thought and she is trying to be more honest with herself.
"No," she says and doesn't meet Jared's eyes. "He should never find out."
A kiss on the cheek and a rustle of sheets and she's up and pulling on underwear and her dress, and carrying her shoes in her hand. She's never snuck from a lover's bed, even thought that's what it feels like she's doing tonight.
She pauses at his bedroom door and looks back. He's illuminated by the moon through the window, the same one that had lit her when she was in his bed. He is watching her and she sees him smile, a little sadly, when she finds his eyes in the dark.
Something curls in her belly and it would be too easy to imagine this same scenario happening with Booth, if she ever let it.
Jared gives a little wave and it makes her smile.
[][][]
When Cam asks the next day, Temeperance is prepared for the lie she has to tell.
It doesn't make thing easier, but it makes things right and Booth is teaching her that that's sometimes more important.
I apparently find the brother trope very interesting (see Lee and Zak Adama.)
Temprance rolls off of him with a sigh. He's still flat on his back, so she curls up next to him, head on his shoulder and her body close in the chill of the room. His window is still open from earlier in the day, when he must have opened it to air out the room from the dust of moving.
"Wow," he says and takes another deep breath. She notices she too is still breathing rather hard. She supposes it is to be expected. They had exerted themselves.
"We can never tell my brother about this," he says, voice firm, and she lifts her head up to see if he is serious. The look on this Booth's face is one she recognizes from a hundred other situations.
None like this though.
She doesn't say anything. She wonders why he thinks Booth would care what she does in her free time.
No. Strike that. That's a fallacy.
She's been trying, with mixed results, to be more honest with herself, with her feelings, since Zack . . . since Zack. There are thing about the human condition she does not understand, but there are also things she willfully misunderstands.
Like this. Like lying naked and sated next to Seely Booth's brother.
Words she would give no creedence were Sweets to speak them rush through her mind. Displacement. Distraction. Substitute.
She willinging went to Jared's bed. She never closed her eyes and pretended he was someone else.
She could have. She thinks Jared is enough of a gentleman, if he is anything like his brother, to allow her the slip.
And it would have been easy. When her eyes did close, the similarities were more pronounced than the differences. She might have noticed a lack in the breadth of his shoulders, but other things, important biological clues were there.
And while she might speculate that some relative gives all the Booth sons the same aftershave for Christmas, there were other less tanginble, less obvious signs.
Like the way Jared kissed her, like she was the center of his attention, like Booth when she was onto something during a case. Like the way his hands found the small of her back when she was arched underneath him. Like the way his eyes watched her when he went down on her, made sure she liked what he was doing (she did), made sure she came first before sliding up her body and letting her choose their position.
Jared scrubs his hands through her hair and sighs. She can hear and feel his heartbeat slowing from her head's position on his chest. He's rapidly approaching sleep, but she thinks he might be fighting it in order to see what she has to say.
Her fingers trace a line of muscle across his chest. If nothing else, the Booth brothers have very good genes.
But that, that is another thought and she is trying to be more honest with herself.
"No," she says and doesn't meet Jared's eyes. "He should never find out."
A kiss on the cheek and a rustle of sheets and she's up and pulling on underwear and her dress, and carrying her shoes in her hand. She's never snuck from a lover's bed, even thought that's what it feels like she's doing tonight.
She pauses at his bedroom door and looks back. He's illuminated by the moon through the window, the same one that had lit her when she was in his bed. He is watching her and she sees him smile, a little sadly, when she finds his eyes in the dark.
Something curls in her belly and it would be too easy to imagine this same scenario happening with Booth, if she ever let it.
Jared gives a little wave and it makes her smile.
[][][]
When Cam asks the next day, Temeperance is prepared for the lie she has to tell.
It doesn't make thing easier, but it makes things right and Booth is teaching her that that's sometimes more important.
I apparently find the brother trope very interesting (see Lee and Zak Adama.)
