Bones/SPN Crossover Fic: The Monster in Limbo (4/?)
Title: The Monster in Limbo (Bones/Supernatural Crossover)
Author: bea_tricks
Genre: Thriller, Romance
Pairings: Brennan/Dean, Brennan/Booth
Rating: M
Spoilers: i'm trying to keep spoilers to a minimum, especially on SPN, but i'm not gonna lie. they're there. takes place somewhere in the middle of season 4 of bones, which also technically also puts supernatural in season 4.
A/N: we've gone M now, folks.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
--
The Homeland Security agents had returned and were debating with her team. Brennan looked up from her remains for a moment to sneak a glance to the side of the platform. Normally, she would have shushed them back to work, but they'd called it their coffee break and she'd relented. The topic she hadn't bothered to ascertain, but Hodgins was at the center of the conversation. Some conspiracy or outlandish accusation against the government seemed likely. She wasn't really listening.
Her eyes (when they ventured from her work) focused on Dean. He leaned against a high table in a suit that was tailored nicely around his broad shoulders. His stance was relaxed, but alert. Like Booth, she noted, and like several other FBI agents she had met. Military, that was it. He must have served in the military. Dean mostly just observed the conversation with amusement every time Hodgins got louder. Like the suit, his unguarded smile looked good on him, and she had the distinct impression that it didn't happen nearly as often as it should.
As though he sensed her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Her first instinct was to look away, hide the fact that she'd been ogling him, but she held it for a moment, unblinking, before smirking and returning to her work. She took measurements to check gender and race on her eighth victim and entered the data into a nearby terminal.
Sex: Male. Height: 1.85m, 6'1". Like Dean. (And like Booth, her brain added.)
Race: Caucasian, Western European origin. Like Dean. (Like Booth.)
The victim's stature suggested that he'd taken care of himself. He'd had an active life that included several sports, had been lean and strong in life. Like Dean. (Like Booth.)
The faces of both men hovered at the edge of her mind's eye while she finished her calculations. Just as she finished her preliminary work on the victim, the conversation pierced her focus.
"Chupacabras are the result of highly classified military breeding experiments gone wrong?" came a low, incredulous voice.
"Now you're getting it, Vince."
Angela spoke up, "Well then, how do you know about them if they're so hush hush?"
Brennan looked down to Hodgins' area where the discussion raged. The entomologist was standing in full conspiracy mode, shoulders squared.
"Just because the government doesn't talk about something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. There have been sightings, captures."
Dean spoke up. "You mean that thing some Texas taxidermist has hanging on his wall? That's a mangy, bastard, inbred coyote. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Look, I'm not supposed to talk about this," Hodgins began.
Angela crossed her arms, leaned back and interjected to Sam, who stood right next to her, "Not that it ever stops him."
Hodgins shot her a look and she returned a fond smile. He continued, "Seriously, my uncle told me about evidence that he'd acquired. I saw his documentation."
Sam followed right behind with a weary sigh. "I don't know what he showed you, but trust us, we've been around, and there is no such thing as a chupacabra."
Brennan turned her eyes again and caught Dean watching her. She smiled. He smiled back and made a sign suggesting a coffee break of her own. The temptation was about to win her over when a beep signaled a new visitor on the platform.
Booth swung his arm between his guest and his partner. "Dr. Joseph Lawrence, meet Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, this is your zooarchaeologist."
He'd pronounced it correctly. Brennan shot a surprised look at her partner as she stepped forward to shake the visitor's hand.
"I'm not an idiot, Bones. I can learn your terminology when I want to."
Brennan ignored him and spoke with a controlled enthusiasm, "Welcome, Dr. Lawrence. I've read several of your articles. Your research on cranial evolution in chimpanzees was particularly impressive."
The man was tall and lanky, with sharp features, tiny glasses, and short hair that struck a balance between blond and grey. His shoulders were hunched, as though trying to shrink to the height of those around him. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I'm a fan of yours as well. I'm very excited to see these mystery remains you've unearthed."
Brennan snapped off her gloves. "I'll take you to them."
Taking a step forward, Booth said, "Fraid Clark will have to show the Doc down to limbo. You and I have a meeting with Sweets in..." he looked at his watch, "fifteen minutes ago."
She scowled. "Have you seen how many sets of remains I have here? I'm far too busy for his banalities."
"You want to lose our profiler?"
Brennan huffed, introduced Dr. Lawrence to Clark Edison, and watched them descend the platform. "Straight back here afterwards. No pie."
--
The clock on the wall of Sweets' office ticked slowly and Booth sat quietly on a couch next to his partner. He could just make out the figure of a man in an office building across the way. The man sat beside his desk, watching passively as a ball bounced off the floor, the wall, and back into his waiting hands. He repeated the motion. Booth thought fleetingly of Steve McQueen and pondered whether solitary confinement would be preferable to this sentence in Sweets' office.
"I'd like to discuss sharing," said the psychologist.
Booth quipped, "You having trouble getting your toys back from the bully next door?"
"Emotional sharing, Agent Booth. Some time ago, you came here to invite me to dinner at your apartment. Dr. Wyatt cooked for us."
"I remember," he replied. Bones continued to sit in her silence.
"In a... very touching effort to convince me to join you, each of you shared an incident from your childhood."
Fireworks snapped deep in his belly and he thrust his shoulders forward. "I told you that there would be no further discussion of that." Booth could sense Bones tighten up beside him, but whether it was a reaction to Sweets or to his own outburst, he didn't know.
"Of course. I had no intention of asking." He too leaned forward, "But I would like to ask you about an observation I made."
Booth sat back in his seat, still apprehensive, and conscious of Bones' lingering tension. "Well, spit it out then."
"Neither of you seemed surprised at the other's secret. Surprised at the sharing, of course, but not at the stories themselves. No shock, no outrage at each others' childhood trauma."
"Yeah, Sweets. We talk to each other on occasion."
"Yes, the trust you have in each other is completely understandable. What I'm curious about is how much you share with each other."
"Hell of a lot more than we feel comfortable sharing with you."
"I mean, those are very personal anecdotes you shared. Are there any topics that are taboo between the two of you?"
Brennan's sudden "Yes" occurred at the same time as Booth's "No."
"What?" he asked, turning to her. A thread of uncertainty was unravelling in his chest. There was something she wasn't comfortable sharing with him? Did it have something to do with the reason she was so upset lately?
Her arms were folded across her chest. "You don't like to talk about your sex life," she said simply.
He rolled his eyes. "Cuz it's private, Bones." He tapped a finger against his leg. "What? You really want to know about my favorite sexual positions?"
"Based on your bearing, I'd imagine that you're fairly dominant in the bedroom, but that's not what I meant." She wasn't looking at him. "I don't know why you won't talk about your romantic encounters, about dates that you have. I tell you when I have men in my life."
"Well, you have crappy taste in men. Someone should be informed about what's going on in that arena."
It was the wrong thing to say, he knew it before it came out of his mouth, but this irritation of hers was getting to him. Weeks of poking and prodding had produced no results. He still had no idea what was bothering her, and she seemed to have no desire to tell him.
Her ice blue eyes finally flashed to him, steely and petulant, and he let loose a secret he had been keeping from her. "Fine, Bones, you want to know about my social life? I haven't been on a date in years." How could he, when he only had eyes for her? "That make you happy? I can't talk about my romantic encounters," he encased the words in finger quotes, "when I haven't had any."
Booth had expected sympathy from her, or at least a query about why a 'symmetrical alpha male' would have such trouble finding a willing date, but that wasn't what happened. Bones looked at him in disbelief for a moment, then sat back in her seat, sullen, facing forward.
He was flabbergasted. Did she think he was lying? That he had a girlfriend and was too embarrassed about his partner's social skills to introduce them? Did she think he wasn't trying hard enough, upset that she was the only one who could talk about romantic partners?
Did she secretly know about his feelings? Did she want him to get over her and move on?
His intuition had failed him. He didn't like thinking about this last possibility, but he couldn't come up with any reason that made more sense than any of the others. His brain was mired in confusion. Neither of them said much for the remainder of their abbreviated session. The beautiful, brilliant woman he had worked so hard with, for whom he had sacrificed so much, was shutting him out, and Booth didn't know why.
--
"Hi, Dean. Thanks for coming."
"Beautiful woman invites me over for a drink. How can I turn that down?"
"Come inside," she said, holding the door open. Then her mind interpreted the phrase in a much different way.
Brennan was horny. It was undeniable. For a long time, she had simply enjoyed the presence of Booth's well-formed body. She could handle not having sex; she knew how to take care of her own needs, and her friendship with Booth was so fulfilling otherwise. But the last couple of weeks she felt sour just thinking about him. Dean had a fresh face, humor, and sympathy about where she was coming from. She could enjoy his company and appreciate viewing his body without being overwhelmed by complications.
Leading him to the kitchen area, she caught a whiff of his aftershave. Pleasant, potent. Her eyes rolled back. Probably should have used one of her vibrators earlier to release a little of this tension. As it was, she felt a little dangerous. There was an attractive man standing right behind her and he appeared quite capable of relieving this ache.
"Mmm... this is a great place, T. Very classy."
"Thanks, I had the lighted shelves designed especially for this room. I'm very pleased with how they turned out."
Brennan began pouring their drinks while Dean strolled away toward the nearest wall, and Brennan couldn't keep her eyes from trailing down his form. Dean glanced at a few books, letting his fingers drag across the spines, and came to an artifact that caught his attention.
"You have a-" he stopped himself.
"What, a Mayan burial vase?"
"It has a quincunx on it."
Brennan looked up with surprise, then picked up their glasses and moved closer. "You know about hoodoo symbology?"
"Occult artifacts are... let's say a hobby of mine."
Brennan watched how his lower lip expanded against the glass. She took a sip from her sangria and sighed at the warmth flowing through her. It was more than could be explained by just the alcohol, especially that which dipped lower in her body.
The number of items in her home that he was familiar with was amazing to him, conversation flowed and their drinks emptied quickly. She led him back to refill them and Dean turned to marvel not at the artifacts, but at how damn appealing she was when she was that enthusiastic.
He'd just turned back around to face her when she attacked him, both hands grasping behind his neck, her lips assailing his. Dean experienced one second of shock before kissing her back, matching her fervency.
She tasted like sweet brandy and smelled so natural that he was struck dumb by the intimacy of it. He suddenly couldn't get enough of her and wound his hands round her back, up into her soft hair, down to caress her curves and cup her hips closer to his. Some small part of him was goggling at the fact that this magnificent woman had unexpectedly launched herself into his arms, but the ruling majority didn't give a damn. That part was more concerned with holding her close enough to demonstrate exactly what her presence was doing to him.
They tore at each others' clothes. He nipped at her lower lip. Brennan's top went flying up, over her arms and head, and the buttons of his dress shirt didn't all survive the experience. Finally, Dean stepped back to kick off his slacks and boxers and stood before her.
Brennan admitted to herself what a superior specimen he was. His form was solid, muscles carved by regular use, his structure suggested excellent maneuverability, his phallus was hard, straight, thick. She was responding to him, growing wet. She needed this. Oh God, did she need this. She let her hormones take over -- stepped to him and pressed the length of her naked body against his.
His breath caught at the feel of her soft skin all along him. "Do you" he kissed her, "wanna take this to the bedroom?"
"No," she growled and pulled him so that he was pressing her against the edge of the counter.
A jolt shot from his head to his hips he was so turned on by her response. Despite his propensity for taking beautiful women to bed with barely a second thought, he suspected that it was worth taking his time with this particular one. She was unique and he would have loved to do it right. If only he had time. He suspected he'd be back on the road within days, hopefully without the law on his tail. Dean was used to simply enjoying what time he had available, but at the moment it smarted.
She groped for her purse and rummaged through it while Dean reached between her legs to dip a finger into the moist heat. He was overwhelmed with a need to taste her. "Ohh," he grunted low, raspy, "God, T."
His touch and his voice caused her center to twitch, and she found herself fumbling uselessly. "Dammit!" Brennan cried. "I swear I had some condoms in here."
"I've got it," Dean retrieved a condom from his coat. He bent over and took one nipple into his mouth almost reverently while he put it on. As he dropped to his knees, he pushed hers apart and let his tongue drag across the damp skin at the apex with a soft moan.
For a few moments, Brennan simply enjoyed the pleasant feeling of his talented mouth suckling down below, but this wasn't what she was truly craving. She wanted oblivion, and she wanted it now. She pulled him back to his feet. "Fuck me, Dean," she demanded. Obediently, he hitched her leg over his hip and entered her, and Brennan let out a soft sigh of relief as she enveloped his hard cock. Each of his slow, sensual thrusts drew a little noise from her throat. He kissed her slowly, but she quickly became frustrated.
Why did she seem to attract men who wanted sweet and gentle sex? Sully had been quick to say he loved her and wanted a deeper connection, David appeared to have been heading in the same direction before it ended, Booth was reportedly keen on making love. But Booth had never been her lover. He'd shown mixed signs of wanting something more before he'd started dating again, before bubbly blonde. No, she didn't want lovemaking now. She wanted to be ravaged. His body was built for unrestrained sex, and that's what she desperately needed. She wanted him to make her scream and come hard. She said so, and Dean whispered his compliance before picking up the pace.
It was a good decision. His full strokes were solid, his tempo quick and heady. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled along with his thrusts, forcing him to deepen his movements. Eyelids sliding closed, she remembered the last time she'd done this, how Mark's endurance had been what finally did it for her. A slow and steady build toward blinding sparks. She'd loved the end result, but she never had much patience for the extended process.
Right now, however, she was not having that problem. Dean's skill was driving her quickly toward orgasm. She grunted loudly in response to a particularly potent thrust. Yes! God did she need this.
When the quake began to take her, she let her torso fall back onto the counter and the surge rose through the cold tile against her skin. By the time her pleasure ebbed, her head was bumping against a jar of pickles. "Come on," Dean urged her back into his arms. Hands gripping her ass, he held her to his hips as he moved them in the direction of the hallway. "No, this way." She slipped from his arms and led him into the living room.
Dean's eyes devoured the length of her bare backside as she walked. Her lean legs and gently curving back met spectacularly. And he was treated to an even nicer view when the woman stopped at the back of her couch and bent over it, looking seductively over her shoulder.
The way his fingertips dimpled the soft skin on her hips as he gripped her spurred him on, and watching himself disappear inside her again and again had him harder than he had been in a long time. Still he could not forget the full breasts, the startling eyes, and that husky voice that he prayed would call his name, and before long, he decided that he just couldn't do without them.
She growled in frustration; she had been crying loudly, close to another peak when he slipped out of her. But Dean paid no attention to her argument, he simply lowered himself onto an armchair, pulled her to straddle him, and held her waist as she immediately restarted the pace. Dean's head fell back of its own volition at her grip around him. "God, T. You are so damn hot."
"I know. Now shut up and fuck me."
Her hips slid expertly up and down the whole length of him and, while he matched her thrusts, he had to stifle himself. As desperately as he'd wanted to see her, he hadn't counted on it all being too much for him. But it was, and with each stroke, it took quite an effort to keep from giving in.
"Yes," she cried, having seemingly found just the right spot. "God, yes, Boo-," she stuttered and then said "b- baby." Once she'd found the word, she chained it to her tongue. "Baby... baby... oh God..." Brennan started riding him faster, begging for more, begging to be filled, to achieve that completeness she was so desperate for on nights such as this.
She'd disintegrated into incomprehensible whimpers when her pace began to falter. This was the moment. Dean grasped her hips, pulled her body toward his where he caught a nipple in his mouth, and drove up speedily into her. She screamed. It was so elegant, the way her back arched when she came, the cry wrenched from her lips was sweet and it rushed through him, causing him to finally lose his control. He pulled her tightly to him and released with a loud moan.
Dean cradled her against his chest, where she lay slumped for a long time. "You're very good," she mumbled with a smile.
"Thank you." His fingers were able to discern goosebumps as they traced up and down her back, cupping her ass occasionally.
Dean would have been hard-pressed to remember exactly what they'd talked about then, still laying together in the chair, but words came easily. He was about to suggest they move to the couch, get those drinks she'd talked about before and a blanket. Perhaps he could even convince her to take him into her bed and he could show her more pleasures, but their skin had finally cooled and she shivered.
"Is it already that late?" she asked, looking up at the clock. "Unfortunately, I have an early start tomorrow. You'll understand if i don't see you out to your car."
He paused only a moment before covering his disappointment. "Yeah, no problem."
While he retreated into his clothes, Brennan disappeared down the hallway to fetch herself a robe. The messiness of her hair when she returned, the redness of her lips that he had so recently tasted struck him hard. He knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he didn't want for this to be all they had. He had to try again.
"You up for dinner tomorrow night?"
"I'd like that." She surprised him with a smile as she opened the door.
"Alright then. Guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight." Brennan leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and left him facing her closed door.
He rubbed his face and blinked rapidly. What the hell had just happened?