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Perpendicular	By : KShir Category: 1 through F > Bones Views: 4045 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Bones or the characters from Bones. I also make no money from writing fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five

Seeing in the Office
He had awoken alone, his back tied into painful knots. At first he had not remember why he was naked on his living room floor feeling as those his head had been cleaved open. He originally attributed it to a night of heavy drinking – probably concerning Bones’ departure. He had stood, stretching to a symphony of cracks and pops from his aging joints and began to shuffle towards the shower when he had stepped on it.
It was small, and silver with the monogram L.S. engraved onto it – and the previous night crashed down upon him in dollops. He remembered bending Lance over his sofa, the touches, Sweets’ mouth around him. But was there more? Had he…? He thought he’d remember something like that.
He had needed answers. Any answers. Any small inkling as to what else occurred and where Lance had gone. He thus found himself in the psychologist’s office after three days of unanswered phone calls and younger man not showing up for work.
He had opened his mouth, ready to grumble at Lance for not responding to any of his many methods of communication, but was cut short.
“This was a mistake, Booth.”
It was cold – a decisive dismissal that stopped Agent Seeley Booth in his tracks. Lance dropped his hardened gaze to a patient file lying open on his desk. The FBI agent dropped his hands from where they had paused in mid-gesture. The doctor’s words had not pierced him; it was Sweets’ tone.
“A mis-“
“A mistake, yes.” There it was again, the emotionless, calculated quality that was so out of place in the younger man’s voice. Where was the sincerity? Where was even the compassion that Booth had teased the psychologist for?
What did it matter? Lance had made himself perfectly clear. This tryst had run its course; there were no other ways to interpret this interaction. After nearly two weeks of pressing Booth into corners, grasping feverishly for any inch of flesh, Lance Sweets had decided that such foolishness was behind him.
The finality of that cut through Booth like a knife. Those same two weeks, Seeley had been fighting down every urge, feebly pushing the good doctor away from him. Yet, somehow, the drunken touches shared in the agent’s residence had driven away the wrongness – the burning desire had melted away any thoughts of Brennan, or Christine… or Pelant. And alas, here the older man stood, watching the fire burn out suddenly; he was left clutching the smoldering remains of his life.
There was no Brennan, she had left. Parker had been snatched away to London to live with his mother. There was no Christine, she had been taken. Now, it seemed, there would not even be a Lance… Booth’s last tenuous grasp on the pieces of his family slipped through his hands like smoke. Aside from the assault to his affinial network, his own brain seemed to have reared up against him, striking out like a snake. The echoes of faggot and queer had not died out of his mind before the real insults set in, fresh from his subconscious: adulterer, sinner, bad father. Bad father.
No. Those words yanked him harshly from his silent reverie. Brennan had left him, at least for the time being, there was nothing he could do about that. Christine… A father was not measured by the people he loved besides his children. And sinner? He could have laughed out loud. Premarital sex, children out of wedlock, living with an unmarried woman. Why should this be any different?
An enflamed countenance replaced that of doubt. Sweets had begged for his touches. The man had keened at his touch, had arched his back to be nearer to Booth. He had whispered sweet nothings in his ear while the agent sucked on his neck. This was no mistake. He was a sniper. He was an Army Ranger. He did not make mistakes so easily.
Seeley looked up from where he had been staring at his creased, calloused hands to find Lance’s eyes on him.
( - )
It was far more difficult that he had prepared himself for. He, however, spit the words out with all of the venom that he could muster while his heart tightened painfully in his chest.
“This was a mistake, Booth.”
He could only bear to look at the agent for a moment longer before he dropped his eyes. The other man had looked struck dumb, absolutely blindsided by his icy rebuff. Lance bit down on the flesh of his cheek, hoping that he would be able to maintain his taciturn demeanor long enough for Seeley to leave his office.
“A mis-“ Booth repeated, but before he could get the words out, Sweets cut over him forcing out the words he already hated himself for saying the first time. “A mistake, yes.”
Silence followed this and it seemed to stretch on towards eternity until Lance dared looked up from the folder he was pretending to have vested interest in. A furtive upward glance through his lashes showed Booth standing in precisely the same place, staring at his hands.
Unexpected pain lanced through Sweets, leaving him momentarily breathless and nearly completely convinced that he should close the space between them, fold himself into the agent, and tell the burly man the truth: this was for his own good.
Truth be told, Lance had never meant for any of this to happen… but once his confession had escaped his lips that fateful night, he had abandoned any attempt for normalcy and charged full-speed ahead into the volcano of desire that was Seeley Booth.
Of course. Of course he had desired Booth. The abuse of his past – those dark times that he had shut away in a small box in the back of his mind – had left Sweets to invest his love in any vessel, regardless of the appropriate fit between love and vessel.
He had not had an appropriate relationship. He had lost his adoptive parents. April had allowed Sweets to be a child; her demanding demeanor allowed him to fulfill growing adult needs while satiating the missing part of his subconscious. Daisy had changed the roles up and allowed him to be the one in charge. Her nonsensical child-like babble put him in the position of power.
And here again stood proof of Sweets’ attempt to eke out appropriate feelings. Booth was simultaneously father and brother. There was some best friend in there as well. Though Sweets had realized his love for Booth, there still remained his own inability to decipher whether that love was familial, platonic, or sexual.
To his intense surprise, upon exploring the possibility of that love being sexual, Sweets made the discovery that perhaps he was homosexual. Even in his most powerful of erotic relationships, during his most potent sexual arousal, he had not one degree of the excitement that simply touching that man’s quivering flesh permitted him. Further exploration of this might reveal the exhilaration of forbidden sexual encounters or a trauma-induced sexual immaturity, but to be frank: Lance didn’t care. Not one jot. A moment of Seeley Booth’s slick skin pressed to his chest was enough to erase even the most compelling doubts.
Certainly there were thoughts of Temperance Brennan. There was, however, a conscious decision to champion Booth’s advantage point. Should Seeley accept this homoerotic relationship in place of her cold demeanor, Sweets would suffer no personal blow. They were polite, friendly even, but he only viewed her as a detachable extension of Seeley.
What had opened the doctor’s eyes was the thought of Booth’s child: the little girl, Christine. Brennan meant next to nothing to him personally, and Sweets could sense Booth’s desire but his own selfishness had a line. It was a line crossed for him, but one he would not cross for Christine. He would not take away her chance at parents… at the perfect household. He could not take that away from the poor child, as it had been taken from him so many times. He may not have a place in Booth’s life, but the girl still did. He would not jeopardize that.
As he looked up into Booth’s blank face, however, he felt the argument morph dangerously in his head. What if the girl could have two parents? Even if Brennan chose to remain in the picture, the child could have three. He was young, sure – but what if he could grow to love Booth’s daughter like he loved Seeley Booth?
When Sweets snapped back to the present it was to find Seeley Booth glaring at him, a near-feral look in the agent’s brown eyes. There it was again: the tangible, electric pulsing energy between them – a signal that seemed to be hot wired to a place deep in Lance’s groin. He felt the doubt flicker across his own face.
( - )
And Booth saw it. The doubt. It was only a flash of uncertainty that Lance seemed to have noticed because the doctor attempted to rearrange his facial expression with some of the previous venom. It was, however, too late.
So this was a ruse. For some reason or another, the slender man before him had schemed to tell him that their affair was some sort of uninvited blunder. Booth imagined that the young psychologist probably had some noble reason for this deception, but at that moment it didn’t matter in the slightest.
He knew the shades were drawn. He knew the door was locked. He had checked these things before beginning the conversation with Lance. He did not want to be overheard interrogating the doctor concerning his absence from Booth’s life since their sweaty rendezvous on his living room couch.
He crossed the room in two swift strides and slammed his muscular hands down on either arm of Sweets’ office chair. He rolled the younger man forward until his mouth was pressed against the shell of Lance’s ear.
He bit down harshly on the soft earlobe and growled viciously, “This isn’t a mistake.”
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Perpendicular