A/N: This story came about after reading Nattylovesjordy's "Love and Other Senses" (Chapter 14).
Disclaimer: I DO own Bones - but only on DVD.
The back of the couch faces the windows of the office. Anyone walking by on their way to other parts of the Lab or to the public part of the Jeffersonian may catch a glimpse into her office, but not the front of the couch. Although she purchased it new when she moved in, the couch is beginning to show signs of wear, of being well used and appreciated. She probably couldn't count the number of times she has taken a nap or just rested her eyes after a long stretch with bones or paperwork. It's been her refuge; it's been her solace.
Micah would often find her here. The light still on over her desk and a box of bones spread out on the light table, if she awoke when he came in she'd tell him that she was just resting for a moment. A brief conversation and she would go back to work and Micah would return to his rounds.
On the nights that she didn't awaken, he would cover her with the hand knit afghan that usually rests in the basket in the corner. Whether they'd had a conversation, or she'd slept through his visit, Booth would appear shortly afterwards to take her home. After Maluku she would work through the night with no interruptions. Micah would still appear, sometimes with a snack and a short conversation, but when he was gone, she'd go back to the bones. She often found herself completely unaware of the passage of time until the first interns showed up for the workday.
As she sits at her paper-covered desk, she glances over at the couch and the man asleep there. A day's growth of beard on his cheeks, his hair slightly mussed, he's lying on his side with his arms crossed in a way that she knows his shoulder will ache when he awakens. His shoes have been kicked off and are under the long coffee table that holds the remnants of their late dinner and his shoulder holster. Those garish striped socks that he loves are a colorful contrast to his gray suit pants.
His face is relaxed in slumber. The corners of his mouth have a slight upturn that brings to mind his quick smile. The crinkling around his eyes (we will NOT call them wrinkles yet!) and the furrowing of his forehead disappear when he is this relaxed. Although trite, the assessment is true; he appears younger and more boyish as he sleeps.
He is usually a light sleeper. From his time in the military, his time in combat, his sniper training, he has an awareness about him even in sleep that some call a sixth sense and he refers to as his sniper sense. She revels in being able to sit and watch him sleep. To know that after all these years of guarded looks and carefully editing her words, that she can just sit and take in the man she loves.
Leaning back in her desk chair, she reaches over and logs out of the Jeffersonian network for the day. Stretching her legs under her desk, her toes search for the flats she had kicked off earlier in the evening. Her right hand goes to her belly in a protective gesture that she never thought she would experience.
She is once again overwhelmed with emotion. She has never been a particularly sentimental person, so she knows that the tears that spring to her eyes are partly due to pregnancy hormones. But on another level she is aware that her thought process is changing a bit. As she slips into her jacket and turns off the light over her desk, she wonders if this feeling is what others are talking about when they speak of being at peace. She moves toward the man on the couch and calls out his name.
His eyes open as he rolls onto his back. His smile widens as he stretches and asks just one word, "Home?" As they walk out the door towards his SUV, one of his hands on the small of her back, they exchange a goodnight wave with Micah as he makes his rounds.