Hi all! New fanfiction alert!

This is just something that I typed after the idea would not leave my head- it's kinda short, and even though my friend has read through it for me, there may be spelling errors, which I apologise for- people always say that they ruin the story, and I sort of know what they mean, but even though I check and check, an error always gets through somehow.

This isn't rated M but I suppose it might be later. Believe it or not, there is actually a plot behind all the kissing and hand-stroking stuff- if you want more plot (or more kissing and hand-stroking) please review and I'll update ASAP.

~Enjoy!~

The longer something is left, she typed, her fingers moving with nimble experience as she became lost in the words she conveyed to the screen, The stronger it gets. Ignoring something to relieve yourself of the emotions that might be associated with accepting it may seem like a harmless thing to do, as it is pushed to one side, and "forgotten." But eventually, it has to be dealt with. And when it finally is dealt with, you end up wishing that the whole thing hadn't been pushed to one side at the start after all.

Brennan was in her office when Booth arrived, with a frown on his face that told her instantly something was wrong. She had worked with him for long enough now to recognise his facial expressions, and what they meant, even if she didn't yet know what was behind them.

When he walked in, she looked up from her work, stopping typing as he quietly shut the door behind him.

"I'll be ready in a minute, Booth, if you just want to sit down." She felt like a dentist in a waiting room. Booth certainly looked as depressed as somebody about to face someone drilling their teeth. Brennan studied him for a minute or so more as he sat down before continuing typing.

But the flow had stopped; the words that she had been so eager to release had been forgotten. If it had been anybody else that had come in and distracted her, she would have been a little annoyed. But not with Booth. She had learnt by now that if he distracted her, then the forgotten trail of words would come back to her later, as she was usually reminded by something he said or did. He made her forget, but he made her remember, balancing it all out perfectly.

Quietly, Brennan saved her work, and closed the laptop with a small noise that made Booth glance over at her. Standing, she walked over, and sat on the chair opposite him, leaning forwards so that she could perfectly see his face.

"What's wrong, Booth?" She asked and he instantly looked surprised that she had noticed, before gathering himself.

"Nothing, Bones. Everything's fine."

Brennan gave him a look, to show that she didn't believe his crap for one second. He gave her a reluctant half smile, studying his hands intently. His fingers were fiddling with something; a flash of metal told her that it was his St Christopher necklace, usually found around his neck.

Looking at her now, he relented and began to talk.

"I've…oh, I've just had a bad day, Bones. Everybody gets them, it's not the end of the world." His words were light and teasing, but she could hear the weariness behind them, and didn't push for more.

Instead, she watched as he held up the necklace and watched the light catch it as it turned slowly. Booth was captivated by the necklace as it spun hypnotically. Brennan wondered just what had made his day so bad, made him try to cover his pain with his charm-smile and a few well chosen "happy" words.

Leaning closer, she reached over and let her fingers trail down the cool metal of the necklace. Booths eyes slid to her, as the delicate chain coiled in her palm, and she held her hand out to him. He circled her petite hand with his larger hand, his fingers curling around them as she tilted her hand and the chain fell into his palm.

Her hand felt warm, her skin soft against his, and he tightened his grip. Brennan watched silently, unaware that her breathing had practically all but stopped. Still holding the St Christopher, Booth reached out his other hand, and used it to turn hers over, examining every inch with a thoughtful, lost, soft expression on his face. His thumb stroked her flesh rhythmically, and she shivered.

Booth looked up at her then. Brennan was suddenly aware of how silent the room was, how alone they were, and how happy she was that they were alone together. She was also increasingly aware of how good his skin felt against his, the warm, bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach washing over her, the feeling that she had come to associate with the man sat before her, stroking her hand.

Love. The love friends shared.

Booth stared into her eyes, and she did the same to him. She could see his raw emotions there, the way his eyes were a little too bright, and she wondered if he had been crying.

The thought of Booth crying without her there comforting him made her squeeze his hand. He looked down at their intertwined fingers then back at her. He was telling her something, in his deep chocolate brown orbs that could see right though her, that could see right past her wall, past every lie she told. He understood her just as well as she understood him-sometimes she wondered whether Booth understood her better than she did herself. That should have scared her, but it didn't.

The next thing she knew, Booth was moving towards her. She stayed still, frozen, until his lips pressed against hers softly. They were cool and she could taste coffee and peppermint. The kiss was simple, and chaste, as Booth pulled away, but only a fraction. He stared into her eyes, their faces inches away, and she was caught between the shock over what had just happened as she tried to rationalize the event, and the realisation that his lips felt incredible against hers-

And then they were kissing again, but she was kissing him back, slowly, unsurely. Her kisses were careful, measured, delicate, in case he pulled away. I should pull away, she thought, but she didn't. Instead she pressed one hand onto the lapel of his suit jacket, and slowly pulled him closer.

Booth was savouring each of her kisses, moving as slowly as she was. It was sweet, and tender, full of words unspoken. He lifted a hand to her head, and buried it in her hair. Suddenly, he pulled her even closer, and traced his tongue along her lip, begging for entrance.

Brennan's eyes opened in surprise, but she complied, and he explored the contours of her mouth. They were kissing slowly; long kisses, tasting each other. Brennan, now half lost to the kiss, took this as a sign that he wasn't going to run. Was she?

She couldn't even if she had wanted to. Booth was pulling her over towards him, off her own chair and onto the couch beside him. They didn't break the kiss, as he pushed her down. She was lying on the couch, her hair fanning around her face, tousled, as he slowly leaned over her, cupping her face and kissing her even more deeply than before.

They were lying, on the couch, making out, Booth pressing himself against her, burying his hand in her hair, the other trailing down to her slim, pale neck as their legs tangled. I should stop, now, she told herself, but at the same time that she thought this, she was moving her right leg up, grazing the heel over the back of Booth's thigh, before gently hooking it up around his waist.

Booth immediately pushed himself closer to her, an automatic response, but in that second, she felt him pressing against her, and she felt how much he wanted her. She moaned softly, and her hand jerked up to the small of his back. They stopped, and once again their eyes met. A moment passed between them, and it was clear in Booth's eyes that a choice had to be made, and she had to be the one to make it. They could stop now, and deal with the awkward silence that followed, or they could cross the line and carry on…doing this. Kissing. Touching each other.

It felt like a dream, a dream that she had on occasions, but pushed to the back of her mind and refused to even think about. But she had to think about it now; he was here, he was right in front of her, and he was waiting for her to choose.

It took only a second to make her choice.

Brennan tightened the leg she had hooked around his hip, and cupped the back of his neck. Booth gave her a quick half smile, his eyes flashing, an impossibly dark shade of brown now, as he realised the choice she had made. Still grinning, he pressed into her again, and was rewarded with another moan from the woman underneath him.

Their kisses, which had once been chaste and gentle were now passionate and fast, and things were moving quickly. With a look at Brennan to reassure himself she was really okay with this, Booth moved his hand down to her shirt, and slowly began unbuttoning it. She noticed he kept doing that; looking at her like this might be a dream too, like she wasn't really letting him kiss her, and kissing him back, like he was afraid that any second now she would push him off.

But she didn't stop him; in fact she helped him, with fumbling fingers, until the buttons were all undone. Booth pulled her up and lifted her onto his lap, and she straddled him. Another moan escaped from her lips as she sat directly on top of his crotch, now able to feel even more how much he wanted her. Booth tugged off the unbuttoned shirt, and she raised her arms so that he could slip her camisole up and over her head, leaving her sat before him, kissing him, her top half wearing a lacy black bra, and nothing else. He had dreamed about this, but never with this much clarity. Never before had he been able to smell her scent, of perfume and strawberry shampoo, or feel just how amazing her skin felt against his. She reached round and unhooked her bra, and suddenly she was there before him her breasts uncovered and he wanted to pinch himself to make sure that this really wasn't a dream.

Instead he kissed her, her breasts pushing up against his muscular chest. He pushed her back down onto the couch again so that she was lying, and she immediately hooked both legs around his waist. Her moans were familiar now, but he still couldn't believe it. He closed his eyes with a low groan as she exhaled deeply, before continuing to kiss her. Booth's lips trailed down to her neck, and he began to suck on the skin that he found there.

This was obviously a delicate point, because she arched up into him and this time, he groaned with her, loudly. His lips moved down, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her breast. As her head lolled back with pleasure at what he was doing to her, Brennan reached down and began to tug on the belt of his jeans.

The St Christopher necklace lay on the carpet of the floor, shining, coiled, as the sound of moans took over the room, and the sound of fabric falling to the floor seemed to echo like gunshots.