Oh wow. This really got a life of its own.

And let me just tell you beforehand - it's shamelessly cliché and don't expect too much. I just wanted to write it really badly. Also, it's quite late right now and I don't have time to read through it again, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Title: The Partners in the Tent
Author: lrigD
Word count: 4,230 (which makes this my longest one-shot ever...)
Rating: T
Summary: Booth and Brennan are out on a case in rural Virginia and need a place to sleep.
Disclaimer: Yup, don't own them.

Oh, it is important to keep in mind that this is post 5x16, but pre season 6 (and thus 6x09). It doesn't follow any existing storyline in season 5, so I guess you'd call it... AU?

Enjoy!

"I'm sorry, Sir, but we simply have no rooms left."

The man sounded genuinely apologetic and Booth was sure he was telling the truth, but after the day he'd had he wasn't willing to accept the truth quite so easily.

"How can you have no rooms?" said Booth, frustrated. "Don't you guys prepare for busy seasons or something?"

"Sir, our definition of 'busy' is three cows and a horse," the man replied with similar frustration. Beside him, Brennan snorted with unexpected laughter.

"Well, don't you even have an attic or something?" Booth asked, resigning himself to defeat.

"We do, but I don't recommend going there. Haven't even been up there in years; I think the floor is rotten through."

"Great," said Booth. "So where're we supposed to sleep now?"

"Booth," Brennan laid a gentle hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, surprised. They hadn't really touched each other in a while, and he was surprised by the swift emotion rising up in him. "It's not this man's fault that there are no rooms available," she said complacently. Then she turned to the owner of the little motel. "Do you have any alternative sleeping arrangements we could make use of?"

Booth could see the man translating her words before answering. "Well…" he said carefully. "We do have some sleeping bags."

Booth looked around; the reception area of the motel seemed to be nothing more than a hole spared out in the wall: there wasn't even room for a chair, let alone a sleeping bag.

The man followed Booth's look. "We also have a tent, Sir, if you decide to stay here."

"Well, we can't really go anywhere else, can we?" Booth replied rhetorically, resigning himself to the fact that he and Brennan were going to spend the night here… somehow. "So where's this tent?"

An hour later, the small tent had been erected in the motel's small backyard and Booth's respect for his partner had increased tenfold as she had single-handedly set up the tent while Booth had gone to retrieve the sleeping bags from the motel owner.

He cursed Louis Adams for committing the murder where he had; a small, forgotten place in the middle of nowhere in Virginia. He couldn't fathom how this hotel could've been booked up, but he supposed there were plenty of hunting grounds around: the woods around here were dense and, he imagined, scarcely visited.
The murder had been solved and they could get back home, but after a round of celebratory drinks Booth felt it was both dangerous and irresponsible to drive this late at night, and they had instead opted for a night at a motel. Too bad this had been the only one in the area…

"Booth, come inside the tent, then we can close the flap." Brennan's matter-of-fact voice reached him from inside the tent and having been too busy cursing the place before, the realization finally dawned.

He was going to share a tent with Bones.

Immediately he was gripped with a tension he had not felt in a while. A year ago, he would've dreamed about this opportunity. He would've jumped at the chance to spend some time with the woman he was pretty sure he loved, especially if that time was to be spent in close proximity to one another.
But now… Three months after what Booth had come to call 'The Incident', he dreaded the coming night.

It was going to be awkward, surely, and Brennan would brush it aside with her usual practicality, but he wasn't that way. He couldn't just forget.
He couldn't go back on their sleeping arrangements now - the motel owner had gone to far too much trouble getting the tent and sleeping bags to do that. No, he had no choice; he was going to have to spend the night with her. Alone. In a tent.

"Booth, why are you still standing there?" Once again, Brennan's voice penetrated his thoughts and this time he moved towards the tent, looking inside to see Brennan sitting cross-legged, frowning at him.

"It's cold outside, and while it is not much warmer here, the tent provides significant protection against the elements." She moved the flap aside to let him enter and he did so, automatically. Once he was inside, she quickly zipped the entry shut and they were alone in their canvas cocoon.

He stared at her a little awkwardly, not knowing what to say and at the same time relishing the opportunity to watch her unobtrusively as she rummaged in her backpack.

Watching her still felt like finding water in the desert, but now it came with the knowledge that the water might be poisoned, might not save him after all. Their relationship after his admission had been a little more strained, although carefully hidden behind nonchalant words and a cautious mind.

And yet the sight of her still calmed him when he was upset; she still had a soothing touch that, he thought, she may never lose when it came to him. She was no less beautiful to him; no words from her could change that. Her eyes would never stop meaning so much to him and she-

He got lost in his thoughts and realized belatedly that Brennan had straightened up and that she was now holding a water bottle in front of his face. His face heated and he hoped she hadn't caught him staring. But if she had, she didn't let it on.

"You have had considerable amounts of alcohol, Booth. You should have some water." He nodded, not trusting his voice, and took the bottle from her, careful not to brush hands. It wouldn't do to encourage his attraction to her, especially in a small space like this.

He twisted the cap and drank the water, which was surprisingly fresh despite having spent the entire day in Brennan's backpack. He thought she would probably have some chemical explanation for that and bit back a grin when he imagined her explaining it to him. Instead, he passed the bottle to Brennan and tried not to be affected when her lips touched the spot where his lips had been just moments ago.

"So," he said when she'd stopped drinking, "setting up a tent, huh? Is there anything you can't do, Bones?" He couldn't quite stop the admiration in his voice, even though it was present with equal amounts of teasing.

"Knowing how to set up a tent is very practical, Booth," she replied calmly. "It's a skill I had to have on my various digs."

"Yeah, I'm sure it came in handy on the Mapoopoo islands," he told her teasingly, butchering the name just to get a response out of her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maluku, Booth, you know they're called the Maluku islands."

"Yeah, yeah," he told her with a wave of his hand. He grinned at her and she grinned back, and for a while it felt the way they had felt before, before bullets, brain surgeries and love declarations had changed them.

They both seemed to realize this at the same time and, though nothing changed, the atmosphere in the small tent was suddenly a little tenser.

Partly to break the silence, Booth yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm kinda tired, actually… I think I'm gonna turn in for the night." He didn't dare undress with Brennan so near – besides, he had packed no night clothes and it was far too cold to sleep naked, or with nothing but boxers on.

"We have to get up early tomorrow if we want to read D.C. before lunchtime," Brennan said seriously. She started rummaging in her back again and turned to looked at Booth. "Are you going to sleep in those clothes?" she asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"Well, yeah, I didn't bring any… pajamas, or anything," he told her. "You did?"

"Of course I did," she replied, and he half-expected her to give him a lecture on the importance of proper clothing to sleep in, but she didn't. Instead, she pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a sweater and the tent suddenly became a lot warmer when he realized she was going to change here. In front of him. With no qualms, of course, considering it was Brennan he was talking about. He turned away, but not before he saw her pulling up the shirt she was wearing, baring a tantalizing strip of naked back. He swallowed. He couldn't see these things – he couldn't even think them.

The change in their relationship became all the more clear in this moment – he thought that had it been two years ago, she'd have told him off for turning around, telling him he was a prude and that it was only a body. Now, she changed in silence and he didn't ask whether she was done. He just listened to the sounds her clothing made and only turned when he heard the zipper of the sleeping bag.

His own sleeping bag was cold. Booth ignored it as he snuggled inside. The tent was barely big enough to fit two people, and as a result, when he turned to face Brennan he found himself mere inches away from her face. For a few seconds, he stared at her, unable to stop himself. They had hardly ever been this close; so close that he could see the small, faint freckles on her nose. He absently wondered how long it would take him to count them all and was halfway through promising to himself that one day, he would find out, when he caught himself and hastily backed away from her until he reached the canvas side of the tent.

Brennan was looking at him with a faint, distant smile and he couldn't quite tell what she was thinking. Abruptly, she broke the silence. "I camped with my mother in our backyard once."

She looked fond at the memory and, both eager to forget the previous moment and surprised at her seemingly random words, he smiled at her a little tentatively. He waited for her to continue, but she seemed lost in memory and so he just watched her, this time from a safer distance.
"That must've been nice, Bones," he finally murmured, his voice a little husky.

She was startled out of her nostalgia. "We had a good time," she said. "She read me stories and we invented a story of our own."

He laughed at that, remembering how those artistic attempts had been with Parker and trying to picture a little Temperance, talking about fairies and monsters. The image was undeniably adorable.

She seemed to misinterpret his laughter for disdain. "It was very amusing," she said defensively.

"I know, Bones," he told her complacently. He wanted to add that he'd done the same thing with Parker, but somehow it felt like an intrusion on a moment between Brennan and her mother; he didn't want to disturb her. So instead, he just lay on his back and watched the roof of their tent. Gradually, he grew more tired until he just closed his eyes altogether.

Finally, her voice broke the silence. "Good night, Booth," Brennan told him and she sounded so homely, so warm, that instantly he wished she would tell him that every night.

The urge to tell her that suddenly became almost overwhelming, but instead he just bid her goodnight in return.

After a moment he became aware of how little the synthetic material of his sleeping bag did to warm him. He'd given Brennan the thicker one, not wanting her to catch a cold and thinking he could deal with the cold a lot easier than her. Apparently, though, he had underestimated the cold night. It was almost summer, for God's sake.
He gripped the outsides of the bag tighter, trying to wrap himself up to generate more heat, but it didn't work. Trying to ignore the cold that was now beginning to seep into his bones, he turned on his back and listened to his partner's soft breathing. They'd shared a room before, but he'd never been so aware of her presence right next to him. Slowly, her rhythmic breathing soothed him to sleep.

It seemed like only two minutes later when he shot up, becoming aware of a pain both in his left foot and his lower back. He should've known, of course; the cold always aggravated the pain, but somehow, the fact had slipped his mind. Now he was left reaching for his foot, trying to massage the sudden pain out of it.
His sudden motions woke up Brennan, who immediately sat up beside him and turned on the flashlight. Her arms were raised and her expression was quite feral before she looked at Booth and her face softened into worry.

"It's the cold," he answered the unspoken question, willing his teeth not to chatter. "Go back to sleep, Bones, I'll be fine."
She ignored his words, and really, he should've expected that. When did she ever listen to him?

"You should've told me, Booth!" she said, sounding almost angry. "What are you doing?" she continued with furrowed brow as he wiggled out of his sleeping bag.

" Massaging usually helps," he answered, "and I can't massage my foot through the bag." No longer obstructed, he moved forward to grab his foot, but she was there before him.

"I have been told I am very good at giving massages," she told him, and he wondered whether she was aware of what her statement was doing to him; if she knew where his mind immediately went, even with the pain in his body.
She pulled off his sock –Good Lord, Brennan was undressing him– and started massaging, and despite the pain he was in heaven. He lay back down, unable to stop the wince that escaped him as his back protested against the movement.
She noticed it; he could see something flash in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

Brennan hadn't lied; she was good at this. She kneaded his flesh with a soft bit firm hand, occasionally soothing the skin with a stroke of her fingers.
After a while, he could feel his foot relaxing, a very odd feeling. Trying to ignore the less intense, but still present pain in his back, he sat up and smiled at her. He didn't know what would happen if she continued massaging him like that; though he was sure she thought nothing of it, it did affect him in ways he didn't want her to know.

"Thanks, Bones," he said in an immensely grateful voice. She, however, finally decided to address something else.
"Your back also hurts," she told him matter-of-factly, not expecting an answer. "Do you want me to massage your back, too?"
He panicked. "No, Bones, I-" But she was pushing him around with those slender hands of her, forcing him to lie on his stomach. "It won't hurt, Booth," she said. "As I said, I've been told that I am very good at massaging people."
She thought it would hurt him. He wanted to laugh, but abruptly closed his mouth when he felt her hands on his back. "You have to take your shirt off," she said. She sounded more clinical; maybe this little situation was affecting her, too.
"Bones, it's freezing!" he replied, alarmed. "Come on, let's just get back in our sleeping bags, I'll be fine." But his defense sounded weak even to his own ears and Brennan, unsurprisingly, ignored it. She started tugging on his shirt and he reached for her hands, stopping her before she could continue. "I can undress myself," he told her in a semi-annoyed voice and he felt her tense, knowing she hadn't detected the teasing tone in his voice. To assuage her, he turned around while he took off his shirt. As his head was stuck in his shirt, he didn't see her wide eyes as she took him in, nor did he see the panicked expression that crossed her face. When he looked at her face again, he saw nothing but well-kept composure.

Brennan, for her part, knew that giving her partner a massage –no matter how good she was at it – was not a good idea. The tension between them, the sexual feelings she could see in his eyes, and she could feel in herself, was likely to escalate further and by massaging him, she was likely to aggravate the tension to unknown heights.
And yet, she couldn't find herself to care. Here she was, in a tent, with a man she had shared her life with, a man she felt closer to than anyone she knew and whom she trusted with, literally, with her life.
They shared everything. Why had she ever said no to him? She had begun to regret that decision lately. She still had doubts, but the benefits were starting to overshadow them.
She needed him. She was a passionate supporter of independence, but she couldn't deny the fact; the two weeks he had been dead to her proved it. She needed him.

And so she massaged him for a while, trying to remain calm despite the way she felt as she watched his back lose its tension under her skilled hands. Uncharacteristically, he didn't make any sounds, but the silence wasn't tense.

He didn't dare make any sounds. The way her hands felt on his back was too good to be true – way better than that other way she had fixed his back, a long time ago. This felt too intimate for them, but it felt so good.
He wondered what she was thinking. Was she, like him, thinking about that damned line? Was she thinking about what she'd said a few months ago? I can't change… I don't know how… He could've quelled her doubts so easily, with just a few words: I don't want you to change. Why hadn't he? It was the truth and it seemed so simple now, in hindsight.

He couldn't stop a groan as she massaged a particularly low spot in his back. His body responded, he couldn't help it – it had been too long for him; cold showers just didn't do the trick anymore. He needed her, and not just in a physical way.
Behind him, he heard a soft intake of breath and he knew, just knew, that this was affecting her. She felt more; he'd seen it in her eyes countless times. And even if she couldn't name it, didn't dare to define it, he knew she loved him, too. It had made her refusal all the more painful; knowing the feelings were there, on both parts, but it just couldn't be.

He needed to think about that final statement, though, because the way her hands were roaming his back was definitely not in a merely friendly manner.

Get a grip, Seeley, he told himself. Here she was, his partner, giving him a back massage and he was thinking of turning around and showing her just how much he'd wanted her to say yes. He needed to find a way to deal with his feelings.

As she continued her massage in silence, though, he felt himself growing more relaxed. Her hands soothed his tired body. The ache had long gone and if he ignored the blatant sexual component, he was left with a feeling of contentment. If she continued this just a bit longer, she'd massage him to sleep.

So, finally, he turned around quickly. Her hands continued stroking and she brushed his chest before she pulled her hands away as if burned. She had a faraway look in her glazed eyes and it took her a while to realize what had happened; when she came back to earth, he had a response ready.

"Thanks, Bones, that was great." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it came out low and gravelly, still affected by the back rub.

"Take my sleeping bag," Brennan said out of the blue.

"I – What?" He sputtered, convinced he'd heard her wrong.

"Take my sleeping bag," she repeated evenly. "The synthetic material of your sleeping bag is likely what caused you to have back pain in the first place."

How did she sound so… composed after that amazing massage? She sounded perfectly measured and even; however, when he looked closer, he noticed that her breathing was just a little bit faster; her pupils were just slightly bigger than normal.

"I'm not going to take your sleeping bag, Bones!" he protested. "Get back inside and sleep. I'll be fine."

She actually rolled her eyes. "While I appreciate your alpha-male behaviour, I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself warm," she told him. "Besides, I don't have any old war wounds that act up when it's cold."

"I'm not kicking you out into the cold," Booth said stubbornly.

"You're not 'kicking' me out; I'm offering," she corrected him. Then she sighed. "Fine, then," she conceded. "Then we will have to share."

"Share?"

"You can't stay in that bag, Booth. If you don't get a proper night's sleep and continue to be cold, your back muscles will cramp in the morning and you will not be able to sit in a car for an extended period of time."

He hated how she could sound so rational. He hated even more that he knew she was right. Nevertheless, he wasn't willing to give up so easily.

"I don't think two people will even fit into that bag, Bones." He eyed the sleeping bag in question; it was large enough to fit Brennan with some room to spare, but he seriously doubted two people could sleep in it without being completely intertwined. And no matter how much he liked her, or rather because of it, he wasn't willing to sleep like that.

"It will fit," Brennan replied absently. She was already moving towards the bag. "Come on, Booth!" A tinge of frustration seeped into her voice. "We are two adults. Surely we can share a sleeping bag in order to remain warm?" Comprehension suddenly dawned on her face. "Or would our close proximity cause you problems?" She glanced down, briefly, before looking up at him. "I won't make fun of you. I promise I will behave normally. We are both fully clothed. Is it really that bad?"

Booth, by this time, held his head in his hands. "Yes, it is 'that bad', Bones," he said through gritted teeth.

She eyed him quietly for a while. "I'm sorry, Booth," she said softly and any hint of frustration was gone. "I never meant to hurt you." There was something in her eyes which he didn't dare identify, something soft and meaningful and too serious for this night.

His gaze softened. "I'm okay," he managed. "It's just that I don't think this-" he waved vaguely with his hand- "is a very good idea. For anyone. There's hardly any room!"

"It is the only solution I can think of," Brennan replied solemnly. "If you're really that opposed to it, I suppose I could go into the motel and sleep in the hallway of the rooms."

The thought of Bones going there alone was enough for him to make his decision. "No, Bones, it's fine," he finally decided. "We're two adults, right?" He shifted towards her sleeping bag, where she was already snuggled in. "I'll, er, man up and not maul you in your sleep." His feeble joke to lighten the atmosphere fell flat as she looked at him.

"I'm sure that any mauling you would do wouldn't be too terrible," she told him, promptly flushing red. Booth paused in his movements. Did she just tell him…? Nah, he decided, she must've been unsure of what she said. He smiled at her and eased into the bag, keeping as much space between them as possible.

The sleeping bag really was small. He could hardly avoid touching her and as such, they were both lying on their sides, facing each other. In the dim light, her eyes looked huge.

"Good night, Bones," he finally told her and he closed his eyes. The sleeping bag was much warmer, whether because of the material or the shared body heat. He was already much more comfortable, is body in a weird state between relaxation from the massage and tension from the scene that had followed.

Even without opening his eyes, he could tell she was watching him. A small, childish part of him didn't want to open his eyes, but eventually he did, and Brennan closed hers immediately. He stifled a laugh that quickly vanished when he took her in. She looked small and innocent in the sleeping bag, her features closer to him than ever before and, before he even realized it, he had raised an arm to tenderly brush a lock of hair out of her face.

Her eyes stayed closed, but a smile played around her lips and suddenly, he felt a little bolder. He put his hand on her hip and used it to draw her closer to him. "We're adults," he whispered, reflecting her earlier words. She didn't say anything but snuggled closer to his chest. Her head fit just under the crook of his arm. Like she'd been made for that place.

That night, they both slept with smiles on their faces.

Can you say 'aww'? xD

I was just really in the mood for some sweetness when I started this, and once I started I couldn't stop.

Now, I think I will write an alternative (M-rated) ending. I don't know when it'll be up, but it will be up.

Please don't be shy; review! I could really use them, I feel like I'm entering unchartered waters here (isn't that the expression for entering into something you're not familiar with? American idioms are not my strong suit xD)