36Disclaimer -The rights to Bones, its brilliant characters and Shakespeare are not mine, for which I am very sad. I have no claim on the works of Jane Austen, which would be a dream come true, her being my hero and all. Nor do I own in any way the works of Lord Byron and to be honest, I could really care less. To all fans of Lord Byron, I apologize.
A/N: Nothing to say really, just that I really hope you enjoy it!
Much thanks to redrider6612 for editing this for me and thanks for your awesome suggestions, they were greatly appreciated!
"I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"
"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.
It was the first beautiful day that Washington D.C had seen since the beginning of a long and miserable winter and Seeley Booth decided that the opportunity to enjoy the warmth of the sun for the first time in months was not to be missed, by him or his partner. Twelve o'clock on the dot found him in Brennan's office trying to convince her that she needed a break and persuade her that there was nothing like fresh air to clear up a bad case of writer's block.
"How would you know?" she asked stubbornly.
She couldn't afford to take a break right now. The deadline for her next chapter was fast approaching and she still had nothing to show for the long hours spent in front of her computer.
"Trust me Bones, this is just what you need," he said with a grin that, nine times out of ten, guaranteed him whatever he wanted. This time was no exception.
"Whatever," she mumbled, reaching for her coat.
"Won't need that," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door.
She half- heartedly shrugged his hand away and followed him as he made his way outside.
Once they were out on the sidewalk she had to admit that the bright sunshine and all the bustling activity which usually accompanied exceptional weather was rather uplifting and she immediately began to feel the effects of her stressful morning fade.
But she wasn't about to tell Booth that.
As much as the warm breeze and laughing children picked up her mood, she still did not appreciate being dragged from her office against her will. She made a concerted effort to keep a frown pasted on her face as they walked.
Booth looked over at his partner and for a moment forgot how to breathe as the breeze moved through her auburn locks and the soft sunlight enhanced every beautiful curve of her shape. She looked almost angelic and he was reminded of all those corny scenes in "Touched by an Angel" when the main characters would light up from behind with an obviously effected glow. This was so much more real. The vision would have been perfect except for the frown marring her beautiful features.
He would get rid of that frown, he was determined. He had found recently that he had been waking every morning full of determination to go to work and make her smile; simply to see her happy had become his number one priority. A face that lovely should never look downcast or upset half as much as his partner's did. When this had come to mean so much to him he didn't know. All he knew was that she was rapidly becoming the most important thing in his life and there was nothing he could do about it.
"See Bones," he said enthusiastically, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Isn't this great? The sun's shining, the birds are singing, all the young lovers are out for romantic strolls. And how about this fresh air, invigorating isn't it?" He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly, swinging his free arm merrily as if to demonstrate how one was to conduct oneself on a day as fine as this
"You know," pointed out Brennan, "your obvious romanticism does nothing to strengthen your argument that you don't have a well developed feminine side. You really are very sentimental Booth."
"I was only stating that for effect, the young couples in love are all part and parcel of the 'first beautiful day of the year' experience," he argued.
"Face it Booth, you're soft," said Bones matter-of-factly, poking him in the side.
"I resent that," he protested indignantly, puffing out his chest, "I am very hard."
She raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked mortified when his unintended double entendre finally sank in and his face turned a terrific shade of crimson.
"No….I mean….I'm…" he stopped, defeated. "I'm not soft, I'm a tough FBI Agent," he finished hastily.
His felt his spirits lift as the faintest glimmer of a smile lit her face, despite the fact that her amusement was at his expense.
"Sure, whatever you say. I'm just waiting for you to break into a corny musical number or whip out your copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets," she teased.
"Have you read the Sonnets?" asked Booth, interested to know if she read anything besides forensics journals and anthropology textbooks.
"Of course I have."
"I never would have guessed those were on your reading list," he said, pleasantly surprised. He soon realized his mistake as she began to explain in her best 'Professor' voice.
"Romantic movements contributed significantly to various cultures throughout history. Elizabethan England's masses thrived on the sentimental works of poets and playwrights such as William Shakespeare. I would be remiss in overlooking such manifestations of culturally accepted ideals. In order to understand…"
Booth cut her off. "Alright Bones, I get it. To you they may just be historic cultural documents, but to others they're works of art."
"I understand that some find them stimulating and view them as having literary merit, but to be honest, I simply cannot appreciate them."
"What've you got against poetry?" Booth asked.
"It's all sentiment, feeling; it's sappy. It goes on and on about love and beauty. And some of it is actually very provocative. Anyway, I just don't see the need for all that emotion and figurative language. Why do people need to go into such depth when it comes to how they feel? It really serves no purpose and when a man declares to a woman how much he loves her and lavishes her with compliments, he really only does it as a means to an end. I'm convinced that poets cannot mean half of what they write. I'm sure for most of them, all that…what does Angela call it?" She paused for a second, "Oh yeah, all that 'fluff' that they write is simply for the purpose of putting food on the table."
"First of all, I think those were some of the worst generalizations I've ever heard and secondly, I don't think very many of those poets made a lot of money off their work." Booth smirked. "Ever heard of the 'starving artist'? Why do you think Angela draws dead men instead of naked ones?"
"I know you think I'm being cynical, but pontifications on beauty and eloquent compliments really aren't required to enter into or build upon a relationship. In fact, I believe that such sickly sweet declarations of emotion can never enhance a relationship, let alone begin one. A shallow one maybe, but certainly not a solid, mature one." She said this so rationally and confidently that Booth had to contradict her.
"Bones, where's the romance in that? A relationship without declarations and at least some 'fluff' probably isn't a very healthy one. Where's that passion if a man can't declare to a woman how much he loves her?"
"There are other ways to excite passion Booth," said Brennan.
Booth groaned.
"I'm not talking about sex Bones, I'm talking about….well….feelings." he finished lamely.
She looked at him skeptically and he shook his head at her.
"We're obviously not getting anywhere," he sighed.
"What do you suggest?" she asked lightly. Winning an argument always put her in a good mood. Well, she may not have won, but he certainly would have to concede that she had presented a valid argument.
Booth paused for a moment, weighing his options. Was every intimate relationship about sex for this woman? Booth decided someone needed to teach Temperance Brennan about the necessity of romance and emotion when it came to relationships and he knew just the man to do it. He may never get an opportunity like this again and now was as good a time as any to find out just what it would take for Temperance Brennan to crack and admit that a declaration of intense feelings could be considered more than sentimental rubbish
"I think we need to try a different approach," he suggested.
"Alright…." she said slowly. There was something about the way he was looking at her that put her senses on high alert. Booth had a plan and she was pretty sure she wasn't going to be particularly comfortable with whatever he was about to do next.
"So you're saying," he began," that if a man that you were attracted to were to compliment you, tell you how he felt, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, that that would do nothing for you?"
"No Booth, I already explained…." She stopped as he took a step toward her, deliberately invading her space. He had an almost predatory look in his eyes. She wanted to step back, but curiosity rooted her to the sidewalk.
He leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek and began to speak softly.
"So if he were to look at you like you were the only woman in the world and tell you that you were the most breathtakingly gorgeous creature he had ever seen. If he told you that your eyes shone like sapphires, that your hair looked so soft that all he wanted to do was run his fingers through if, that your lips looked so full and inviting that he could hardly go a minute without wondering what they would feel like against his. You'd feel nothing?"
Right then it became obvious there was a deeper meaning to his words and the argument became secondary.
"No," she said quietly. The shiver that shook her body told him she was lying.
"If he told you that waking up in the morning with the prospect of seeing you made him more excited about going to work than any normal person should be. If he told you that every second of his day that he didn't spend with you he spent thinking about you. If he told you that he could no longer concentrate because everything reminds him of you. If he told you that he never truly knew what consuming desire was until he met you. You still wouldn't feel anything?"
She could only shake her head. She had lost all ability to form complete sentences or rational thoughts. His proximity, his scent and even the words he was speaking had her paralyzed with terror and with something else. Something she had never felt before.
"If he were to tell you that you made him feel things he couldn't describe, made him crazy, and told you that he would give absolutely anything to hold you in his arms. If he told you that every time you looked at him, touched him or spoke to him his heart raced and he felt like the luckiest man on earth just to be near you. You'd remain unmoved?" His eyes bored into hers, daring her to deny the feelings his words were obviously evoking.
The look in her eyes was one of fear, vulnerability; and he knew that she couldn't help but be affected by what he was saying, not if she felt even half of what he felt for her. Just saying these things to her was causing the need in him, a need that was simply aroused by her presence, to increase tenfold and all he could think about was pressing her up against the nearest wall and kissing her senseless.
She couldn't even shake her head now. How could these simple words be arousing such strong waves of emotion? She didn't need words, she didn't need compliments, but now that he had started, all she could think about was hearing more.
"If he told you that thoughts of you kept him awake every night and that when he did sleep, you haunted his dreams. If he told you that all his fantasies were about you and that if he ever told you half of what took place in those fantasies that he would die of shame."
He stepped even closer and put his lips to her ear. She forgot to breathe as his voice dropped to a whisper.
"If he said he needed you like he had never needed or would ever need anyone again. What would you do?"
With every word he spoke, the barricades that she had built around her heart to protect it from the increasingly overwhelming feelings she was experiencing for him were being dismantled brick by brick.
He felt the transformation take place and he pulled back a little to watch her. Her stance slowly became unguarded and open, her eyes cleared, her mouth parted slightly and it took every ounce his self control not to act on the feelings coursing through him. He knew she was affected, he knew she felt it.
"If he said that he'd do anything to hear that you felt the same."
After his thinly veiled confession, his restraint gave way and he couldn't stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to her parted lips. When she didn't slap him or reprimand him his feelings took over and the next words that popped into his head were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"If I said I loved you Temperance, what would you do?"
Her eyes widened and her breath caught. Her mind went into overdrive and she could hardly process what was happening. She knew she should be afraid, she knew she should be running, but oddly enough, that was the last thing she wanted to do. The words he had spoken, the truth in his eyes, had elicited a response from her that no man ever had. What had started as an innocent argument had swiftly turned into the most intense emotional encounter of her entire life. His words had triggered something in her, but it wasn't just the words, it was the emotion infused in them.
Suddenly it was like a dam broke. She could feel tears threatening to fall as her emotions overpowered her. She put her hands gingerly on his biceps, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of his muscles against her palms. She began to lean in, but stopped short to give him one final searching gaze before closing the gap and gently pressing her lips to his. What she had meant to be a short, sweet kiss slowly developed into a long, passionate one that left her feeling weak and light-headed.
Shock quickly followed by elation held him still for a moment before he responded and he felt her knees go weak. He moved one hand to her back to support her while the other lost itself in the dark strands of her hair.
She began to pull away, but his hand on her back held her to him long enough for him to kiss her once more, thoroughly, before pulling back only far enough that he could still feel her breath fluttering over his lips.
"So," he whispered, "should I be planning a career change? Poet Laureate Seeley Booth?"
She smiled softly. "I don't know, you are a pretty good FBI Agent. Besides, how would you pay for those twelve thousand dollar suits that you like so much?"
"I'm glad you approve of my career choice Bones," he chuckled and smiled at her. His gaze held such adoration that she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again, finally free of the inhibitions that had held her back for so long.
Her lips found his once more for another lazy kiss. Both took their time in losing themselves in the taste and feel of the other, savoring the new found knowledge that they were no longer forbidden to touch each other whenever the mood struck.
She pulled away first and fixed him with a determined look.
"And I don't know if I want anyone but me hearing those words from you." Her words were joking, but he saw an insecurity in her eyes that made him want to beat the living daylights out of every man that had ever broken her heart and arrest her father all over again for abandoning her.
'That's something you'll never have to worry about," he said softly, hoping that his words and expression were enough to reassure her.
She smiled shyly and nodded her head.
He beamed at her and took her hand in his as they turned and began heading back towards the Jeffersonian. As cliché as it sounded, for Temperance Brennan, in that moment, the sun suddenly seemed brighter, the breeze softer and the presence of her partner beside her more intoxicating than ever.
"I told you not to underestimate the power of the English language Bones. You're an author, you of all people should understand. Besides, I think your actions just disproved all your arguments," he said triumphantly.
She blushed and shook her head.
"Fine, but I still maintain that putting that to rhyme would not have made it any more effective."
"Are you sure about that? Because there's a little something I've been working on lately:" He paused and cleared his throat loudly before striking a dramatic pose. "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best…."
"Please," she placed her hands over her ears and laughed, "no more, I can't take it! Besides, I'm pretty sure that sounds vaguely familiar."
"Fine," he huffed, "I guess I'll just have to go find someone who appreciates my talents." He sped up and began to walk away from her.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, laughing at his indignant expression and over-dramatized actions.
"Stop it," she said grinning, and Booth couldn't help but congratulate himself on being the reason for that gorgeous smile. "You know I appreciate you."
He wasn't ready to give up his act just yet. "Could've fooled me," he said sulkily.
"Well," she said moving closer, "how can I prove my appreciation?"
His arms circled her waist and he cracked a half smile.
"I can think of a couple very effective ways."
I have to admit that I'm with Brennan on this one, I'm not someone who has a great appreciation for poetry. To be clear, I have nothing against it, not even the works of Lord Byron. Anyone else out there with me and Bones? Or are you a romantic like Booth? Either way, hope you enjoyed my story!