It’s not the first time she’s felt it; this sudden flush of warmth that floods her body, licks along her breasts, then slips lower until her knees threaten to buckle, until she‘s so overwhelmed by *sensation* that she can barely think, let alone figure out where it’s all coming from, or why it seems to be directed towards *her*.

That’s more Adam’s domain, and it’s only when he points out, reasonable as ever, that it only seems to happen around her team-mates, that she realizes the feelings aren’t merely frequent visitors, they’re somehow… familiar.

Emma’s been in the minds of all them, at one point or another, and though the temptation to take a quick peek is more tempting than it probably should be -- more so than Adam would like, anyway -- she instead takes the more ordinary approach to investigation.

She knows -- from everything she’s seen, and everything she’s felt -- that none of them (with the possible exception of Brennan) have ever wanted anything more from her than friendship.

And even Brennan’s supposed feelings for her may simply have been her overactive mind, building fairytales from everyday life -- because though she might not want to see it, tells herself it’s none of her business anyway, she can’t help but notice how the air sparks around Brennan and Shalimar.

The fact that imagining the two of them together makes her belly twist tighter than a tesla coil is something she chooses to ignore, comforts herself with the knowledge that it’s just her concern for her friends, a sort of… psychic stomach-ache.

Still, being in a constant state of awareness is beginning to take it’s toll on her; she’s edgier than she would ordinarily be, more likely to take a bite out of someone than smile, and so after dinner one night, as she and Brennan sprawl together on the couch, she asks him,

“Is something wrong, Bren?”

And he doesn’t say anything, merely places an arm around her shoulders and hugs her to him, fingers playing with the ends of her hair. A slow curl of warmth begins to wind its way down from her breasts to her belly, and she swallows, hard, and reminds herself that this isn’t a once-upon-a-time, that he doesn’t really want *her*.

Finally, he answers her with a cryptic, “What do you think?” and she can only shake her head, because the evasive manoeuvre is so typically Brennan.

“If I asked, obviously I don’t know,” she says, struggling not to notice just how close his hand is to her breast.

This startles him enough to actually say, “Geez, Em, I’ve been pretty clear about my… intentions. How can you not get what I’ve been trying to say?”

It’s all a little bewildering to Emma, who’s been trying very hard not to see what Brennan’s intentions are, towards her or anyone else.

He doesn’t seem to have that problem, though, because he lifts an eyebrow at her apparent lack of understanding, and slides his arm further behind her neck, just enough for his hand to slip down and cup her breast. She can feel the heat of his palm through the thin material of her top and her practical cotton bra, and she gasps because it feels incredible, it feels … familiar. Almost like the promise-filled sensations that‘ve been washing over her, *into* her, and in that moment her own stupidity hits her in a rush, and she gasps out,

“Oh!”

Not only because she’s just had a revelation, but because Brennan’s fingers have begun making slow circles around the peak of her breast, and he’ll occasionally flick one finger against her sensitized nipple, making her moan, making her want *more*.

She can barely summon the breath to speak, but when she does, she says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

And he smirks at her, and drops a kiss against her lips. “I just did.”

She smiles and lets her eyes flutter shut, allows him to take her where he will, and thinks that though their beginning might have been a little off the beaten path, there’s no reason to believe they won’t have that happily ever after, anyway.
 

end.