06 March 2009 @ 12:02 am
Title: (So Many) Songs About Rainbows
Fandom: Bones
Rating: PG (with a tiny sexual reference)
Word Count: 539
Summary: Brennan somewhat over-analyzes a public display of affection.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Hart Hanson, Fox, et al. – I'm just having fun. ;-)
Notes: Shameless Booth/Brennan fluff set sometime in the (not-so-distant?) future, written for the "When You Care Enough to Hit Send" Fest. This is what comes of playing Jason Mraz's cover of "Rainbow Connection" on a continuous loop, apparently.

I chose this e-card as my prompt:

Photobucket


(So Many) Songs About Rainbows

Shifting uneasily, Brennan can't help thinking that perspiration is a biological indication of when to stop touching. The weather barely inches in the direction of too hot while a small breath of wind puffs every now and again, doing just enough. Beside her on the park bench, Booth leans to offer a bite of his ice cream sandwich when Parker comes charging towards them from the playground, and the motion pulls her forward slightly, too.

She looks down at their clasped fingers and then at Parker, who beams at her with chocolate-stained teeth and a smear of vanilla on his cheek. Smiling back, she watches him run back to the jungle gym.

"Want some?" The corners of Booth's mouth quirk up as he raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and she knows it's not really a question.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Oh, c'mon, Bones, it's an ice cream sandwich. Don't tell me you're not a fan of ice cream sandwiches."

"No," she says, frowning, "I like them. At the right consistency, they can be quite enjoyable, and I imagine they're ideal for this temperature."

He cocks his head to the side and brings the treat close to her lips. "So?"

Sighing but smiling widely in spite of herself, she half-lifts her left hand before remembering that it's already in use and then awkwardly takes the ice cream sandwich with the thumb and forefinger of her right. Of course, he rolls his eyes when she nibbles a corner and then passes it back.

If there's one clichéd Couple Thing she still refuses to do with Booth in public, it's allowing him to feed her.

As she licks off the smudges of melted cookie left clinging to her fingertips, he says, "Good, right?"

"Mm."

Her palm, pressed against his, vaguely begins to itch. She fidgets again, but doesn't pull away. Instead, she distractedly muses on how post-coital moisture obviously falls under a different category, since it's mostly residual and there's always an inclination to stay flush against each other anyway. Right now it's too warm for them to be sitting with their fingers laced, arms touching from wrist to elbow and occasionally, when one of them tilts an inch closer, from elbow to shoulder.

But Booth either ignores or genuinely doesn't notice the impracticality inherent in the gesture, and she doesn't really mind, per se; like so many other things, though she can't quite grasp the logic behind perpetuating the conventions of intimacy even in potentially awkward circumstances, she knows he enjoys the sentimentality of it. And that's more than fine. In previous relationships, she wouldn't have tolerated it, but she understands somehow that this is important. It's just that it is slightly too warm and her palm itches and–

"Bones."

"Wha – huh?"

His gaze softens as he lifts their joined hands. "You know, we don't have to – "

"Oh, no, it's – yeah. Don't worry about it. Just" – she pries her fingers free, wipes them haphazardly on her jeans, and then slides them back in-between his – "there."

Grinning, he nudges her, and she leans so that they're wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, and it's still too warm.

Then again, it always is. Just a bit.
 
 
Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: "Rainbow Connection" by Jason Mraz
 
 
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