Booth and Brennan were blissfully unaware of this, however, when they stepped into the elevator in the Jeffersonian, on their way out for a case. Booth was filling her in on the details when the elevator suddenly lurched to a stop as they were plunged into darkness.
"... I thought the Jeffersonian had backup generators to keep stuff like this from happening," Booth remarked.
"It does," Brennan confirmed. "And because so many of the utility lines in DC are underground, we don't have to worry about the weather knocking out the power."
Booth fumbled in his pockets, finally pulling out a keyring and illuminating the small space with the flashlight he carried. "It shouldn't take long for them to restore power and get us out of here, Bones."
He noticed that she actually looked concerned. "I don't know, Booth. This is unprecedented. Someone must have deliberately cut the power."
"Aw, Bones, I think you've been spending too much time with me to jump to that conclusion."
Two hours later, Booth had to concede that she was probably correct. They were sitting on the elevator floor, leaning against the back wall, legs stretched out in front of them and chatting about whatever crossed their minds. Booth finished a long-winded spiel about going to Parker's first soccer game.
"You're a good father, Booth," Bones said. "I hope Parker recognizes how lucky he is to have you."
Booth reached over and found her hand in the dark. "Your father did the best he could for you, Bones. What he did, he did out of love."
He heard her sharp intake of breath. "I know that. But that doesn't change the fact that he effectively abandoned me and Russ."
"Of course it doesn't," Booth agreed, squeezing her hand lightly. "I hope that I never end up having to make the decisions he made about his family though."
She shifted closer to him, their shoulders pressed together and their hips barely grazing. The effect that the minimal contact had on him caught Booth totally by surprise. "I hope you never have to either," she said.
He slipped his arm around her and she automatically adjusted again, resting her head on his shoulder. His leg moved of its own free will so that it was nestled snuggly against hers. They sat like that, in the dark and silence, for an indeterminable period of time. Booth was hyper aware of the sound of her breath, the smell of her shampoo and the warmth of her body radiating through the layers of clothing between them. Memories of the way she tasted during that brief Christmas kiss came flooding back. He guessed it was true what they said, about the other senses becoming stronger when you lost one.
"Hey, Temperance," he finally said, breaking the silence with a gruff whisper.
Her body tensed ever-so-slightly, but his senses were still kicked into high gear and he noticed. "What, Booth?"
"Do you ever think about that kiss we shared under the mistletoe?" he asked, wondering how much he was going to regret that question when they got out of the elevator and he had to actually look at her.
The sound of her swallowing practically echoed in the silence; silence that dragged on just long enough to convince him that he had made a huge mistake. "Yes." The response was so soft that, in any other circumstances, it would have been inaudible.
He felt the relief coursing through his body. "So do I," he admitted. "Every day."
"Do you know why I was so upset when I thought you were dead?" she asked.
It was an unexpected question and he was very curious to know, "Why?"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and he tried to search her eyes out in the dark. "Because I realized that I would never be able to kiss you again."
That was all he needed to hear. His hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling in her thick curls and he pulled her to him, his lips practically crushing hers in a kiss. She didn't resist; in fact, she slid closer to him and swiped her tongue along his lower lip, causing him to groan and pull her onto his lap, deepening the kiss. She tasted exactly how he remembered; like coffee, mint and a hint of danger.
His fingers were tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt when the elevator lurched again and the lights suddenly came on. He blinked, startled by the brightness, and watched as she pulled away from him, standing up and straightening her clothes. Her lips were swollen and there was a glint in her eyes that he had never noticed.
He stood, glancing down to make sure he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of the rescue workers. Within minutes, the doors were finally opening and a crew of technicians and EMTs were waiting to ensure their well-being. Booth understood that it was protocol, but he didn't have the patience for it now; he wanted to get Brennan alone and make sure that things weren't going to be awkward between them.
It was almost an hour later when they finally reached his SUV. He opened the door for her, barely resisting the urge to settle his hand on the small of her back to help her in. He walked around to the driver's side, got in, stuck the key in the ignition and turned to look at her without starting the car.
"Booth?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.
"Are we okay?"
"Why wouldn't we be?"
His mouth fell open. "Because of the kiss."
Brennan smiled at him. "It was an excellent kiss, Booth. You are very skilled."
"That's so not what I meant, Bones. I mean is this going to make things weird between us!"
"Why would it?" she asked. "We're both adults. We're capable of separating our work lives from our personal lives."
It took a moment for his brain to catch up with that one. "Wait, so we're going to have a personal life? Together?"
She laughed. "I would certainly hope so. Angela's been telling me that the sexual tension between us is thicker than Britney's psychological evaluation, whatever that means."
Booth laughed too; at Angela's perceptiveness and at Brennan's pop culture cluelessness. "Guess we should do something about that then."
"Sure, but maybe we should work on this case first," she suggested.
"Take out at your place after?"