A/N Hello.

This is a result of working through some of my old dribs and drabs in my Fanfic folder. I am continuing my journey of exploring old ideas and rough drafts as Little Miss Musey feeds me pieces of my next DPO chapter, little by little. Parts of my original sketch were replaced after an online conversation concerning workouts that some of us would like to do with, or to, Booth. I hope the lovely members of the self-appointed Season Finale support group of Bones-watchers who partook in that conversation enjoy this. danaotr, SBXMomX, faithinbones, sidnew47, craftyjhawk, CovalentChem, Jesswaa1 were all part of that little discussion during which I took it upon myself to claim the first round of #BoothyPushUps and didn't want to share the wealth. I don't think I forgot anyone involved, did I? If I did, I apologize, it was not intentional!

Disclaimer: No, I still don't own anything… I hear HH hates my stuff, but I'm still writing :)

From the shadows

She stood in the shadow, just inside the double doors and watched him silently. If nothing else, she had to admit that he was an extremely fine specimen of the male physique. Very near perfect if she was to be completely honest with herself. It was moments like these, when she could observe him without being noticed, that the anthropologist allowed herself the freedom to daydream, just like any other woman would, about what it would be like to be with him. Of course, she knew it was a dangerous dream – he wanted much more from her than she would ever be able to give. Still, the notion of, for lack of a better phrase, belonging to Booth, sent shivers cascading down her spine.

But, she thought, would it be all that terrible to be exclusive to just him? Giving herself a mental head-shake, she came back to reality. Yes, it would be catastrophic … He would learn the terrible truths about me and leave. And then he wouldn't be in my life at all… I need him in my life.

Many years ago, Brennan had come to her own personal acceptance that one Special Agent Seeley J Booth was necessary for her continued happiness. She was both pleased and terrified that this had become her new reality. For more than half her life, she maintained a fortified, canon-resistant, invasion-proof protection surrounding her feelings, much like ancient walls that had been erected to prevent enemy armies from invading wealthy kingdoms and to keep the princesses held within the palaces safe from the attentions of unworthy suitors. Her metaphorical heart was her princess – that's how she saw it - though she would never ever admit something so whimsical to anyone, not even to her best friend. So, for Brennan to privately admit that her partner was an integral part of her happiness, of her professional life as well as her personal life, was pleasing because she never thought she would be able to care for someone in that sense. But simultaneously, she was terrified. Constantly aware that her own social inadequacies would forever exorcise her to the outer-most ring, outside the ring to be exact, of the circle of 'normal' people with whom he associated. She would never fit in with an average group of people and she was, thus far, largely unsuccessful at conforming to the far-too-many societal restrictions, most of which she didn't understand anyway, that modern-day culture has placed on its inhabitants. Although he patiently explained things to her, Brennan knew that she was an embarrassment to Booth more often than she cared to think about.

But, as much as Temperance Brennan hated to admit, even to herself, that she was no different than any other woman when it came to admiring her partner's impressive musculature and powerful skeletal frame, it was utterly true. His acromial structure was symmetrically pleasing to admire, his expansive chest tapered down over tight, washboard abs and faded into his proportionally appropriate narrow waist and hips. His strong arms, wide hands and thick fingers were protective and gentle, depending on the occasion, and it never ceased to amaze her how he could conform to the circumstances within a metaphoric heartbeat, adjusting his touch accordingly. His legs, long and powerful, carry him with pride and, she reminded herself, have carried them both to safety more times than once.

Letting her eyes travel back up his body, she watched and cataloged the muscles moving and flexing beneath his slick skin as he slammed fist over fist into the boxing bag, throwing his balanced weight behind each strike. His white tank top undershirt, an exact replica of the one 'Tony' wore in Vegas, clung to his skin, soaked through with sweat courtesy of his intense workout, nourishing her ever-growing collection of erotic fantasies involving her partner. Many of those fantasies included extensive moments of running her hands across the smooth olive-toned epidermis, fed by memories of the stolen opportunities while they were undercover, when she'd dared to touch him in unpartnerly ways.

Brennan knew her partner's workout routine well. He would have stretched, ran on the treadmill and lifted weights prior to moving on to the boxing bags. Once he feels he's given the bags enough hell, he will drop to the floor and proceed to pump his long body up and down with push-ups. Push-ups, she sighed quietly... He'll conclude his time at the gym by walking the same treadmill to cool, then stretching again, and finally, by taking a shower.

As he continued pummeling an unseen, imagined criminal's face hidden within the woven threads of the heavy canvas punching bag, her gaze lingered on the back of his neck. The thick, ropy muscles tensed and shifted as he moved and she could almost feel her nerve endings twitch with unmitigated desire to approach him and trail her fingertips along the thin strip of sweaty skin just below his neatly buzzed hairline and above the ever-present gold chain that he wore around his neck, which she knew held his St. Christopher medal snugged safely between his shirt and his smooth chest.

She barely noticed how her breathing had intensified, and she welcomed the warmth that spread through her abdomen as she watched her partner's strength on display in the otherwise deserted FBI gym. He had spent the previous weekend at the beach with Parker and she noticed now, how the sunshine had bronzed the pigment of his skin. He had invited her to join them for the weekend, offered to get adjoining rooms, but she had declined. It was a difficult decision, but she was scared of where her own feelings would take her if she allowed herself to spend two full days and nights in the company of the two people who'd become tremendously important to her daily life.

The anthropologist was shaken from her revelry as Booth moved away from the swaying punching target, shaking the fatigue from his arms sharply. Twisting briefly at his waist, he cracked his neck and dropped to the mat, lying prone for a few silent seconds. Brennan held her breath, exhilarated despite her innate desire to remain poised in all situations. She was happy she'd arrived at the gym in time to observe this part of Booth's workout; she loved watching him do push-ups.

The alluring, straight line of his long, taut body, as he suspended his weight on his toes and extended arms, stirred the metaphorical previously somewhat calm butterflies in her stomach, causing them to burst into a frenzied riot. Booth's tried-and-true Army pattern of '60 down 10', as he termed it, was a fast-paced rhythm in which he would pump out as many push-ups in repetitions of sixty, forty-five, thirty, fifteen and finally ten seconds. Each rep was separated by a sixty-second rest period, which he alternated between remaining prone to the floor and suspending his weight at his full arms' length. Every gleaming muscle in his body, from his shoulders all the way down to his toes, benefited from his strict routine, and much to her pleasant surprise, she couldn't name a damn single one of those muscles by its medical or scientific name. All she could do was watch, count, and occasionally remember to breathe.

As he pushed himself back up to his full height, stretching his back and legs sinuously, she heard him talking to himself.

"Not as many as last night… But still not too shabby," he suddenly turned towards the shadowed corner of the room, where she had hidden herself so carefully. "Wouldn't you say, Bones?"

Oh God, she thought frantically. He knows I'm here… But how?

Stricken motionless by panic, the scientist watched wide-eyed as he sauntered over in her general direction. She prayed to a heavenly body in which she didn't even believe. Oh please…Maybe he'll think he's mistaken… Maybe he's only talking to me aloud because it's what he would say if I were here…Maybe—

He cut off her mental ramblings with a teasing tone. "C'mon out, Bones. I know you're over there…" He grabbed a neatly folded hand towel from a nearby supply stack, shook it open and wiped it across his face. He stared into the depth of the darkened cove, not quite able to see her yet, but confident that she was there. "I lost count on my thirty-second rep, how many was it?"

"You completed eleven in your thirty-second rep, which is quite impressive, Booth." She took one step forward, drawn from her hiding place with the temptation to demonstrate her keen attention to detail. "The average 40-year-old male will only do twenty-one per minute, and that is on the upper curve of the average. But you would have completed twenty-two, had you continued at that pace, on that particular rep. Of course, your sixty-second count was remarkably higher than the average, during which you accomplished 26." She had been slowly stepping further into the light, not even realizing what Booth had done to force her to reveal herself.

The agent, however, grinned smugly, having driven her from her secrecy with a simple trick. Wiping his shoulders with his towel, he walked a little closer before pinning her with a serious but wary eye. "What are you doing here, Bones? I thought you had other plans…" He'd pushed himself into an ultra-intense 'Bones-tension-workout', as he liked to think of these times, because they'd argued earlier and he needed to blow off steam. He needed space away from her...and yet, here she was, seeking him out in his space...

Growing somber, Brennan dropped her arms to her sides, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly, and tilted her head towards the left. "I tried to call you, but only got your voicemail." She took another tentative step forward. "And so, when I left the lab, I came to your office, but you weren't there. Charlie saw me and he said I could likely find you down here." Straightening her head again, she met him with wide, honest eyes. "I wanted to apologize, Booth."

Feeling bad about how the afternoon had played out, Booth threw his towel towards a large bin, planting it where he wanted with little effort. No matter how angry his partner made him, he could never stay mad at her, and he certainly couldn't let her take the blame for this. "No, Bones. You don't have anything to be sorry about." He propped his hands on his hips, finally having caught his breath. "I shouldn't have said anything; it wasn't my place. You're gonna do what you want, and my opinion, like everyone else's, doesn't enter into your decision-making process."

Feeling those fluttering butterflies plummet like dead weight in her gut, she chewed the inside of her lip. "Do you really think so? That I don't value your opinion?" Hoping he actually felt the contrary, she was worried that maybe she'd waited too long and pushed his metaphorical buttons the wrong way. Angela had convinced her that if she would just tell a little white lie, just a tiny fib to get Booth's testosterone flowing, it would prompt him to make a move that she was afraid to initiate. She had foolishly followed her friend's advice and told Booth she had a date that night, which'd resulted in an explosive outcome.

Swallowing hard, Booth looked at his partner, trying to determine what her angle was. "You've made it perfectly clear, Bones, that you and I have vastly different…goals." The adrenaline that had just been pumping through his system, making him momentarily forget his heartache, was slowly seeping from his body, siphoned from his pores by the one woman who could simultaneously drive him crazy and turn him on, and he suddenly felt defeated. "What was it that you needed, Bones? There must be something, otherwise you wouldn't be looking everywhere for me. An apology could have waited until I got your message and called you back..."

Taking a very tentative step forward, gaining a few additional inches in his direction, Brennan wrung her hands absently, her nervousness apparent. "I wanted to know if you would have dinner with me."

"Did your date cancel?" He asked flatly.

"N-no," she answered as honestly as possible.

"So you cancelled your plans?" He felt a little hopeful.

"Not exactly." She crushed the little bit of hope he felt and replaced it with confusion, instead.

"Ok, Bones, I'm gonna need some help here…" He looked at her with questioning eyes and felt his stomach bottom out when he saw tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Bones," he closed the short distance remaining between them in a matter of two steps. His forehead creased with concern and he palmed her shoulders. "What's wrong? Did he hurt you? Did he do something to upset you? 'Cause if he did, so help me, God…"

Now it was her turn to look confused. "Who?"

"This guy… your date tonight."

"No. No, Booth, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"Look," she inhaled sharply. "I have all the ingredients at home for mac 'n cheese… and… and a four-pack DVD set that I bought months ago but haven't watched because I was waiting to see them with you…" Her eyes pleaded with his. "Will you come over for dinner? If I go home now, I can have it almost ready by the time you're done here and wrapped up in your office…" Her senses were being assaulted by Booth and she just wanted to get him into a private location where they could talk. She could smell the strong, pungent odor of his work-out, the remnants of his cologne and deodorant and the scent that was uniquely Boothy… There was no other way for her to mentally catalog the smell other than 'Boothy'. She was having trouble keeping on task and she didn't want to cry - not yet. Not there.

"Bones, I need you to tell me what's wrong." He ran his palms along her biceps lovingly, worried about the unusual flood of emotions that was on display.

"I will, Booth. You'll come?" She was wishing that he would just agree, stop asking questions. "Please?"

"Of course, Bones. I'll bring the beer and movie snacks, how's that sound?" He was trying to give her a moment to recompose herself. He was concerned, fearful of what news she needed to break to him that caused her to search for him when she was supposed to be on a date.

"Thanks." She straightened her back, not realizing that her insecurities had caused her to slouch a little. "Come over whenever you're ready. If dinner's not ready when you get there, we'll talk before we eat."

He nodded mutely, not feeling any more relaxed at her tone, but knowing he would do anything she asked. "Ok, Bones. I won't be long."

With a single nod, she turned away but stopped mid-stride and turned back to face him. "I don't want to assume that you don't have any plans tomorrow, but, if you don't, and if you think you'll want to stay for a couple, or all, of the movies, you can bring an overnight bag." She didn't want to insult him by indicating that he would have nothing better to do besides hang out with her on Saturday, and to be honest, she wasn't even sure how their conversation would play out, and if the results would deter him from wanting to spend time with her. But she wanted him to have the option and make the decision himself.

He nodded. "What movies did you get?" It didn't matter which movies she bought, he told himself - it could be every freaking version of Peter Pan ever made and he would still be spending the night at her place. He felt it was a warranted question, however, so he didn't seem too anxious.

"Alien. There are four of them in a box set. They are science fiction, and the pictures on the box looked like something you would enjoy."

His smile grew exponentially, both at her choice of films and at her description of the box, revealing her selection method… "Do you, I dunno, just go along the DVD aisle and look for pictures that you think I would like?" He cocked an eyebrow teasingly.

"Sometimes, yes." She smiled when he appeared to be receptive to the idea of a movie marathon. It had been a long time since they just stayed in and watched movies.

"Yeah, well. Ok. I'll get cleaned up and head home for a few things. Then I'll be over."

"Don't forget the beer." She knew he wouldn't, but said it anyway, not really certain why.

B/B/B/B

She hurried from the kitchen to open the door when his distinctive and non-stop rap echoed through her apartment. "You need to have a little bit of patience, Booth, when you're waiting for someone to open the door." She reprimanded him gently as she opened her door wide to invite him in, noticing that his hands were both full. He was carrying a case of beer in 1 hand and 2 grocery bags in his other, and, she noted with a muted smile, his duffle bag was slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'll work on that, Bones," he answered in jest, knowing she understood he was just playing. He looked in at the living room and saw that the coffee table had been moved and in the center of the floor was a red and white checkered blanket with throw pillows scattered around.

When she saw her partner stop in his tracks, she rushed to explain. "I thought we'd have a picnic. Indoors, of course, rather than eating in the dining room." She started forward, expecting Booth to follow. "I thought–" When she didn't feel his presence behind her, Brennan turned and saw him standing in the same place, looking confused and dazed. Swallowing thickly, she reevaluated her strategy. "It was not a very smart idea, I guess." She turned back and looked in the living room, at the haphazard mess she had made in her rush. "We should probably eat in the dining room. I'm sorry, Booth… That was a silly thing to do," she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Get a grip on yourself, she mentally chastised.

"No!" Booth snapped out of his surprised stupor. "No, we should definitely have the picnic you planned, Bones. I think it's a great idea." He smiled warmly at her, feeling her insecurities radiating like a furnace. "I was just surprised, that's all. But it is… it's a great idea."

"Really?" She asked him, searching for any signs of patronization, but found none.

"Hell yeah, I'm positive. This is the best kind of picnic," he started to push past her so he could lay down his load. "We won't get rained out and the ants won't eat all our food." He smiled broadly, turning back to look at her. "It's brilliant, Bones."

She beamed at his approval and a new kind of warmth replaced the humiliated one. Then she thought about what he said and started to walk to the kitchen to check their dinner. "I pay a pest control company to come in and spray for bugs every month, Booth. So if you find any ants invading our picnic, please let me know, because I will file a complaint with the company management. They assure me that they're the best in DC…" She was preoccupied peeking in the oven at their crocks of cheesy goodness, but she felt him enter the room.

"I was," he shrugged, though she didn't see the action because she had her head down at the crack in the oven door. "I was just kidding, Bones. I don't think you have an ant problem."

Straightening to her full height, she reached into a drawer for two oven mitts. "Oh," she finally smiled, the metaphoric light bulb turning on. "You were making a joke in relation to the typical problems incurred at traditional picnics that are taken outside. Because weather can always be an issue if one doesn't plan accordingly, and insects, not just ants mind you, are a near constant companion in outdoor dining situations." She grinned. "That was very humorous, Booth." She turned back to the oven, giving her attention to their dinner once more.

"Yeah," Booth muttered with a playful eye roll, again, something she didn't see. "Thanks for the breakdown of my joke…. Doesn't seem so funny now."

"Oh, I disagree, Booth." She giggled. "I am still finding it quite amusing."

With a chesty laugh, Booth grabbed silverware from the drawer , a handful of napkins from the table and carried them out to the living room, knowing that she'd be following close behind with the tray carrying their golden brown, crispy topped mac 'n cheese. The glimpse he'd caught showed him that the edges were burnt to the crock perfectly and the middle bubbled with intense heat, and his mouth started to water. "Need me to get anything else, Bones?"

"No, we're all set. I hope you're hungry..."

He opened her beer and set in on the table behind where she would sit and then did the same for himself. Booth silently admired his partner as she entered the living room. She was dressed comfortably in yoga tights, a pale green V-neck t-shirt that stopped right at her waist, occasionally affording him a little peek at her bare skin, depending on which way she twisted or moved. On her feet, she wore an old, perfectly-worn pair of moccasins that he was certain she must have acquired on one of her anthropological digs abroad. Her face was free of makeup and her dark chestnut hair hung loose over her shoulders. She was, in Booth's opinion, the perfect woman. She's beautiful, smart, kind, quirky, infuriating… the whole perfect package. And, he reminded himself, she makes some kick-ass mac 'n cheese. He took the tray from her and set it down on the blanket, between where they would sit.

B/B/B/B

Their dinner was consumed in companionable conversation. Booth innately knew that Brennan wouldn't want to get into a deep conversation while they ate, so he worked to keep the conversation light. Once he'd scraped his bowl clean, he looked up at Brennan with a broad, toothy smile.

"That was incredible, Bones." He rubbed his stomach in playful dramatics. "I am so stuffed…. couldn't eat another bite."

"Ha!" The laughter burst forth without permission, but was unstoppable. "That'll be the day…" Brennan responded humorously. "You always say you're stuffed, but you never really are, Booth…" She started to gather the dishes but was stopped by her partner.

"No, I'll get 'em, Bones. You cooked, I'll clean." He pushed up to his knees and stacked her bowl inside his, frowning when he saw some pasta still remaining in the bottom of hers. Looking at his best friend in disapproval, he smirked and scooped out the cheesy noodles and mumbled around his mouthful. "Too good to waste."

She shook her head and laughed at his actions. "Just put them in the sink in soapy water, Booth. Let them soak while we watch the movie." Brennan let her eyes follow his form as he exited the room, knowing somewhere deep inside that things were on the brink of changing between them. Standing, she wandered into the kitchen and hoped that the change would be for the better.

Calling out from his place by the sink, he stirred her from her thoughts. "Take a look in those bags of snacks, Bones. I found you some sorta new organic birdseed snack-stuff that I thought you'd like."

"Very funny," her voice was much closer than he expected and he spun around to find her leaning against the center island. "I do not eat birdseed," she countered, but was smiling.

"I thought you were supposed to be relaxing while I took care of the dishes," he stepped a little closer wearing a grin and drying his hands on a small towel. "What'cha need?"

"Ice cream."

"Oh...I didn't buy any. I only bought chips, candy and birdseed, but I can run out for some ice cream if you want." Booth felt instantly bad that the one snack she wanted, he didn't bring.

She shook her head. "No, I have some. I want some before we start snacking on chips and birdseed." She met his impish grin. "You want any?"

"Nah, I'm good." He hung the towel back on the cabinet handle he'd taken it from.

"You cannot eat mine. If I get a bowl, it's mine. If you want some, you'll have to get your own, Booth." She pinned him with a semi-serious glare, knowing he always stole hers, even when he said he didn't want any.

"Yeah, no, I get it. I'm good. Don't need ice cream. Thanks, though." He winked playfully. "I'm gonna use the bathroom before we start the movie."

"Booth?" Brennan stopped him when he turned, her hand gently placed on his arm.

"Yeah, Bones?" Her smile melted his heart, like it was even possible for him to become a bigger pile of goo around her.

"Thanks for coming over for dinner and movie night."

"Hey," he covered her hand where it rested on his forearm. "It's my pleasure, Bones. I love these nights."

"Me too." She replied simply, trying to maintain some semblance of controlled emotions despite the electricity she felt jolt through her body at just his touch. "I'll get the DVD ready after I get my ice cream."

With that, he brisked down the short hallway, eager to do his business and get back out to the living room. Just as he was zipping up his jeans, Brennan's voice called to him through the door, startling him.

"Booth? Can you hear me?"

"It's not like it's a soundproof door, Bones," he deadpanned, shaking his head at his partner's unusual timing.

"Oh, right…" she called in, entirely too loud. "I was just thinking…"

He whipped open the door, startling her just as much as she had done to him just seconds before. With a smug smile at her wide-eyed look, he turned back to the sink and proceeded to wash his hands. "Your thoughts couldn't wait until I was done in here, Bones?"

"Oh, umm…" She had the alarmed deer-in-headlights look in her eyes. "Well, yes, I suppose I should have waited… I apologize, Booth." She started to turn away, feeling embarrassed at her own impatience.

"No, it's OK," he was drying his hands by then. "I'm just messin' with ya, Bones. What's up?"

Confused now, debating if she should talk to him there in the hallway or wait until he came back to the living room, she hesitated. Looking up into his questioning smirk, she realized that the amount of time she had just wasted thinking about her next statement took longer than if she had just blurted it out in the first place. Steeling herself against a possible refusal, she just fired the question.

"Are you staying the night?"

This was not what Booth was expecting at all. He thought perhaps she decided on a different movie, or that she wanted something else to eat, or maybe even she was out of ice cream and it was his duty as the snack-provider for the evening to go buy some for her. But this odd, blunt invitation caught him off-guard.

"Oh...well…" He glanced down the hall and had a straight line of vision to the door through the living room, but didn't see his duffle bag where he had left it. Or where he thought he'd left it. Mentally retracing his steps from when he walked into her apartment earlier, Booth began to question if he remembered his bag, though he sure as hell was certain he had. When given the open invitation to have a sleep-over at his partner's place, he was not going to turn that down… But he didn't want to appear too eager. "I, uh… I brought my bag," he narrowed his eyes in thought and peeked around her, stepping down the hall towards the common area of the apartment, but he was cut off.

"Yes, I put it in your room already. That's what I was going to suggest to you... Maybe you want to change out of your jeans into your sweats so you're more comfortable sitting on the floor," she pointed absently over her shoulder. "Or, if you'd rather, we can pick up the picnic and just sit on the couch. Do you have a preference?" She eyed him hopefully, not wanting to sound like she was begging him to stay, or manipulating the situation, though she didn't really want him to leave. "Unless, of course, you don't think you want to…" She shrugged. "I mean, if you don't want to stay that is, then you don't have to change… if you don't want…" She was repeating herself and she felt suddenly nervous. Why? Booth's stayed here plenty of times in the past! Get a grip, she warned herself.

"No, that's ok, Bones." He saw her shoulders slump in reaction to his negative reply, though she caught herself and re-positioned that ever-present mask that he knew so well. He set about to correct her thinking. "No, I mean, yes." Now she was clearly confused, he could tell from her eyes. Taking a sharp breath, he closed his eyes and opened them anew. "I meant yes, I will stay tonight, Bones. When I said No, I meant that we don't need to clean up the picnic, I'm fine with sitting on the floor." Then he had a fleeting thought, perhaps she is not entirely comfortable with me sleeping here? "That is, if the invitation to crash here is still open. It's OK if it's not. I don't wanna mess up your plans…"

"No!" Her hand darted out and grabbed his arm. "I mean yes." She shook her head. "You're confusing me, Booth!" Her trademark, adorable crooked smile broke out and her voice grew soft. "No, you're not messing up any plans, Booth. I'd like you to stay." She pointed back towards the spare room and reminded him that she'd moved his clothes into there. "If you want to change…"

His eyes skimmed across her beautifully pale features. He wanted to count her freckles, those teeny-tiny little specks that were scattered across her creamy skin… And when he was done taking stock of those, he would start to inventory the silver and green flecks that sparkled in her soul-swallowing eyes. "Umm…" he forgot what they were talking about. Oh yeah, go change outta my jeans… "Yeah. I'll just…" he pointed towards his room (she called it HIS ROOM, not the 'guest room'!) "I'll be right out."

B/B/B/B

When Booth cut through the kitchen to rejoin his partner for what he considered a date night, he grinned devilishly, taking a quick detour around the back of the island for a spoon. He sat on the floor, close to her, and leaned back against the pile of pillows Brennan had fortified against the couch, giving them a stable back support. He bumped her shoulder mischievously as she munched on her mint chocolate chip ice cream. She eyed him silently, suspiciously, and knew in an instant what he was up to.

"No, Booth," she pulled her bowl to the side. "Go get your own!" Her deep alto chuckle rang through the room.

"Just one little bite, Bones," he reached around her, his long arm giving him the advantage. "I don't want a whole bowl…" He managed to get a full spoonful, despite the hunching shoulder that was rolling and trying to push him away.

"Booth! You said you didn't want any." She whined.

God, she's so fucking sexy when she pouts… "It looks too good to pass up," he mumbled around the mouthful and reached for another scoop. "Maybe just one more," he teased.

"You planned this! You came in here with a spoon! You were plotting this attack all along!" She tried to scurry away but didn't get far when he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer to him.

"Aww, c'mon, Bones. You don't really want to deprive me of just a few bites, do you?" He'd known she was going to put up a fight that she didn't intend on really winning - it was their routine.

"Booth! You do this all the time!"

"Yeah, I know." He said against the hair just behind her ear as he stretched around her, reaching for the bowl. "And you love me for it." He laughed triumphantly when she froze and he stabbed the minty goodness with his spoon. Booth didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late. He never intended to make such a statement, even in jest, and his mind raced with a mental image of his partner clamming up and fabricating some elaborate lie to force him out of the apartment before their 'date' even began.

A seriousness had come over Brennan's expression as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at her partner. "Yeah, I do," she replied breathlessly, having agreed before the filter in her brain could stop her mouth from spilling the words.

The agent stilled his movements, the spoon sticking straight out of his mouth, his eyes wide at her response. Slowly, he reached up and withdrew the spoon, swallowing the frozen treat without tasting it.

"Huh?" He wasn't sure what was happening.

Worried that she had just ruined everything by her poorly-thought-out-plan and her typical bad timing, Brennan tried to recover. She tried to backpedal. "When you tease me, when we play. I like that." Would he buy it? Is he going to be upset?

"You do?" His eyebrow raised in question. That's not what her voice said a minute ago, he thought. No, Bones, don't pull back now... Please... He recognized her survival skill, her protection of rational distance starting to go up. Frantically trying to think of a way to get her to finally open up, Booth grasped at straws. "If you love it when I tease you, why do you yell at me all the time?"

Her cheeks flushed a gorgeous shade of pink - healthy and vibrant. "If I didn't yell at you, Seeley Booth, you would wonder what was wrong with me." He couldn't argue with that logic, she mused proudly. "Besides, if I didn't yell at you, who would?" Her perfectly shaped eyebrow arched high. Hoping to tamp down some of the confusing emotions flowing through the room, she simply turned her body towards his once more, holding her bowl out to him in offering. "I put extra in here knowing you'd want some." Her sneaky smile grew wider.

Booth couldn't stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing a non-existent strand of hair from her cheek. With a soft smile, he kept his volume low, mirroring hers. "I knew that was too much for you." He scooped another spoonful, his eyes never wavering from hers. "You know me too well, Bones."

Feeling an unmistakable sensation of intimacy, Brennan smiled openly, honestly. "Theres no such thing as knowing someone 'too well', Booth. One either knows someone well or they don't. There really is no degree of too-much-knowledge."

"I beg I differ, Bones." He unconsciously leaned closer, drawn to her by some invisible magnetic force of nature. Lots of people 'know' me pretty well, but no one knows me like you do. I can guarantee that, because I don't let anyone else know me that well. I have never let anyone get to know me the way I've let you..." Another invisible strand of hair was threatening to tickle her cheek, so he took care of the nuisance with a light brush of his knuckles against her alabaster skin. "And I'm glad you accepted the challenge, Bones."

"The challenge?" She was only half listening, so consumed with the overwhelming desire to lean in and kiss him.

"To know me... To understand me..."

"No one else?"

His answer was a silent shake of his head, his eyes never left hers.

"Not even Rebecca?"

"Becca didn't know me. Hell, we were kids, I hardly knew myself back then."

"Tessa?"

"Oh, please." He wrinkled his forehead in disbelief that she would even consider Tessa in this conversation.

"Cam? You can't tell me she doesn't know you well."

"She knows me, that's true. But she doesn't know nearly as much about me as I've told you."

Swallowing thickly, she addressed the one person she expected to have known Booth better than she did. "Hannah." She didn't even ask, she simply said the name.

Despite the extensive conversations they'd exchanged about his former live-in girlfriend, and the pure havoc she brought with her when she decided to follow him to DC, he knew that Brennan still felt the sting of his relationship. Reaching out, he took the bowl from her hands and placed it on the floor and then scooted around so he was sitting in front of her, one leg extended beside where she sat and his other one looped under his own body, allowing him to sit close.

"Bones," he took her hands in his, holding them firmly but not firm enough to cause discomfort. "When I say no one knows me better, I mean no one. That phone? It was from you…"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, Booth. That was from Hannah."

"Bones, you were the only person besides Pops that knew I wanted one of those phones." His thumb moved across her supple skin involuntarily. "Hannah may have purchased the phone, but it was a gift from you, and I've never forgotten that." Booth reached up and palmed her jaw tenderly, trailing the callous pad of his thumb against her silky cheek. "Bones, I'm not exaggerating when I say I haven't shared certain aspects of my life with anyone else… And I don't expect that I ever will."

Brennan's heart was beating wildly, her skin burned where he touched her. She had unknowingly started leaning towards him, unable to deny some deep-rooted desire to be closer. Her eyes couldn't decide if they wanted to watch his mouth as he spoke or search his endless depths of his dark eyes. The rich baritone timbre of his voice was hypnotic, drawing her into his circle of safety, making her believe that he would never speak to anyone else with same intimacy, the same honesty, as he spoke to her. Her eyes felt inexplicably heavy, the butterflies in her abdomen had erupted into a free-for-all mania and she could think of nothing she wanted more than to feel Booth's mouth descending down on hers. "Booth," she breathed, not even knowing what she wanted to say, so she tightened her fingers around his one hand that still held them.

Afraid of scaring her any further than he may have already done, he opted for a less threatening version of what he really wanted to tell her. "You're the most important person in my life, Temperance. I can't stress that enough."

"Booth…. Thank you." She was not only thanking him for the compliment, but for choosing her to be the one with whom he opened up. It was more than obvious, even before his reassurances that night, that he trusted her beyond any reason that she could understand. She didn't know how to express her gratitude appropriately, so she simply raised one of her hands and held it to his stubbly cheek, mirroring the hold he still had on hers.

Booth could feel her trembling, but was uncertain if she was afraid or simply experiencing the same thrilling electricity that was coursing through his body.

"Bones?" He decided to take a chance. "Are you ready to tell me why you were crying at the gym tonight? "

Terror replaced her grateful expression and she gently shook her head. "Not yet. Please..." Her whisper was breathy, her voice wavered nervously.

Accepting her decision and understanding her well enough to know she would open up to him in her own time, he nodded. "OK. Whenever you're ready to talk," about us, "I'm ready to listen," and calm your fears, "about whatever was upsetting you," God please don't drop a bomb that you're leaving me, "I'll be right here." He nodded towards the cushions where he would be sitting, right next to her. The motion made it clear that he expected her to talk to him that night. "And you don't have to worry about me leaving before you're ready." I'm never leaving again.

She let her hand trail down from his jaw to his neck and finally settled it against his strong shoulder. I'm ready to talk about us, but I'm terrified of losing you. "Soon, Booth. I promise." I promise to do everything in my power to not chase you away.

"Should we start the movie?" He asked, knowing that she had more to say, but that she was going to clam up for a little longer while she planned her strategy. It was her way.

She nodded, grateful that he was giving her a way out for now. He was distracting them both from the unresolved tension that was filling the air, threatening to suffocate her.

"OK," his smile was genuine as he looked back over at her bowl. "You want more ice cream? That got a little melty." That'll give her something else to focus on for a few minutes.

"I don't think 'melty' is a word, Booth." Common ground, playfulness - she was, again, so grateful that he understood her as well as he did.

Mission accomplished. "Sure it is. Look it up."

"No more ice cream," she smiled. "I'll have my new birdseed and a beer in a little while." She eyed him smugly. "I'll research 'melty' tomorrow…"

Booth settled on his cushions, leaning back against the sofa and took a slow drink from his bottle. Waiting for his partner to get settled as she fussed and grunted, trying to find that perfect spot, he held the remote, ready to start as soon as she found a comfortable position. Much to his surprise, the determined scientist suddenly eyed the floor directly in front of where he sat, her mouth tight and her concentrated brow creased as if angered at that particular portion of blanket for being inconveniently located where it was. Without a word, she dragged her pillow over there, forcing his knees apart and shifted until she was seated contentedly between Booth's parted thighs, leaning back against his firm body with a happy sigh. The agent rolled his eyes upward, silently asking God why he was being punished, until he got a good whiff of her perfume, at which time he was changing his plea and thanking God, apologizing for the earlier slip in judgement and misunderstanding.

"Comfy?" He chuckled as he craned his head to look around at her.

Brennan could feel the vibrations of his voice travel from his chest through her back. She felt as though she had just been bathed in warmth. With just an affirmative nod, she took a sip of beer and put her bottle down next to his. She reached to their sides and grabbed his empty hand, bringing it around her waist and holding it here, resting against the soft material of her shirt. When she felt Booth press his strong thighs tighter against her, she didn't even try to suppress the smile.

With a sigh of thankful relief, Booth hit play, dropped the remote and brought that arm around her waist as well, completing the embrace and pulling her firmly back against him, silently welcoming her to use him for support in any way necessary - physical or emotional. The message was clear and received with appreciation as the emotionally fragile woman let her head fall back against his shoulder and roll slightly towards his neck while still allowing her to watch the TV.

Booth's estimate of the amount of time Brennan would need before she was ready to talk was pretty spot-on. Just as things were tensing up on the screen, she muttered something. They had remained in the same position, with Brennan leaning against Booth, an arrangement that grew more and more comfortable for both of the partners as the moments passed. Booth's arms felt like they were made to wrap around his genius and Brennan would be lying if she said it didn't feel perfectly natural. Her wiry fingers had been absent-mindedly stroking the veiny backs of her partner's hands and wrists where they rested on her stomach. Occasionally, when they shifted in tandem, her shirt would ride up and she could feel the rough pads of one or two Boothy fingers stroke her skin and immediately pull away, smoothing her shirt back into place. The scientist found herself involuntarily snuggling against his neck more than once before coming to her senses and taking sharp breaths to regain control.

For his part, Booth caught himself chancing stolen glances at His Bones more than he was watching the movie. The angle at which her head rested against his shoulder allowed him to crane his neck slightly and catch glimpses of her profile as she watched the television screen intently. His nose seemed to have a mind of its own and would rub lightly against the loose hair above her temple, inhaling the fresh scent of her fruity shampoo. He was perfectly aware that she knew what he was doing, and it only took a few happy sighs involuntarily escaping his throat before he finally fessed-up out loud. "Your hair smells good."

She simply smiled and let him continue to sniff, understanding his desire entirely; if their positions were reversed, she would be rubbing her nose along his neck. It wasn't necessarily the shampoo that Booth was enjoying, and she knew it. The scientist was acutely attuned to the intense physiological effects his unique pheromones had on her body, and could only assume he experienced similar chemical reactions to her. It was while this fact was running through her mind that she came to the decision to break her self-imposed silence.

"I never actually had a date tonight." Her throat felt dry, though she had taken a sip of beer just moments before. She lowered her eyes to their joined hands, feeling shame wash over her entire being.

Booth dipped his head, lowering his ear. "What, Bones?"

Her heart started to pound and the unmistakable sensation of tears began welling up in her eyes, bringing about an unpleasant sting behind her nose. She took another deep breath, ready to face the truth and hope that he didn't leave in anger once he learned about the ugly facts that led up to their earlier argument. Grabbing the remote from the floor where it sat beside them, she paused the movie, unable to continue watching it until she made a full confession. She turned a quarter turn, still staying between his thighs, grateful when he shifted and spread them wider to accommodate her movement as she faced him.

He sensed that she wanted to remain close while they talked, and it was made obvious that he was right when she chose to simply spin in place. Booth's left hand cupped her waist as she turned, so it settled on her lower back when she stopped, and his right forearm ended up spanned out across her leg. He felt her nervous grip on his arm and looked down into her face, noting the watery, anxious eyes and her lower lip clenched between her teeth. He dislodged his hand from her leg and knuckled at her mouth, wanting her to stop biting the lip that he so desperately wanted to suck into his own mouth. "I didn't hear what you said, Bones." His voice was quiet and concerned.

"I didn't have a date tonight. Not a real one." She watched a flash of hurt followed by a veil of confusion cross behind his eyes.

"Why would you tell me that you did?" He dropped his hand again, but instead of pulling it away in anger like she expected, he wrapped his thick fingers around hers, wanting to understand what had happened.

"I never should have listened to Angela… It was foolish of me and I caused you pain. And I am so sorry, Booth." She hated apologizing. And typically, she didn't do things to purposely cause discomfort to people, so she didn't have to apologize for things very often. But she owed so much more than a simple 'I'm sorry' to Booth for their fight. She owed him a full explanation and an acceptance of whatever outcome he dished out for her foolish actions.

She took a deep breath and answered his question, which would lead to a much deeper conversation. "I told Angela something the other day and she gave me this advice today and it all just spitfired in my face." She was determined to get through this without an emotional breakdown. She was stronger than her feelings, she told herself. She would swallow her embarrassment and attempt to make amends for her error.

"Backfired, Bones."

Confused for a split second, she quickly realized he was correcting her incorrect phrasing. "Yes, it backfired in my face." She knew she had his attention, so she proceeded, unable to put it off any longer. "Booth, I am not good at picking up on peoples' emotions, and I seemed to have lost my knack for reading you like I used to be able to do. I mentioned to Angela that I feared that I've missed my chance, that we," she motioned between herself and Booth, "have missed our moment." She bit back frustration at her inability to express feelings. "And it was ultimately my fault."

"Bones," he wanted to ease her fears, he hated to see her so upset.

"No, Booth, let me finish. Please." When he nodded, she proceeded. "Booth, I don't know if you're still angry, but I sense that you are less angry than you were before. I did not know how to ask, I didn't think it was appropriate for me to just come out and ask. So, when I told Ange, she said that if I told you I had a date, it would prompt you to open up about your feelings… about whether or not you had forgiven me yet." She swiped away a uncooperative tear that had freed itself from her lower lid. "Foolishly, I listened to her. When you asked me about my plans, I impulsively follower her advice and said I had a date, though I embellished it much more than she told me to do. She never told me to make up a story about needing my biological urges taken care of… That was my own doing. And I have no excuse for it." She lowered her eyes momentarily, unable to look him in the eye, unable to see the hurt she'd put there. "But instead of prompting you to enlighten me about anything, it just made you mad, and rightfully so. I know you don't agree with the methods I used to use to relieve my sexual frustrations," her gaze darted back up, seeking his dark brown irises to emphasize the next admission. "I swear, Booth, I haven't done that in years. I have not gone out seeking anonymous men to help me in years." Taking a chance, she reached up and touched his rough, masculine cheek. "I didn't want to disappoint you anymore." Dropping her hand again, she concluded. "When I realized what I had done, I tried to call you. I called your office, your cell, both went to voicemail. I went to your office and couldn't find you, but then Charlie saw me and sent me to the gym." Shifting so she could turn to completely face him, she pushed the pillow out from beneath her and sat up on her knees. "Booth, I don't know exactly when it happened, but I know that it's been a long time... I don't feel impervious anymore. You've become such a permanent part of my life, such an important person to my mere existence, that I can't imagine a day going by that I don't see or talk to you. I have been terrified to admit it, afraid to tell you because, like I said, I didn't know if you'd forgiven me yet."

He met her wide eyes patiently, watching the swirl of emotions wracking her body, storming behind her blue-gray windows. When she didn't continue, he raised an eyebrow. "May I speak?"

With a nod, she tried to answer, but no words came out.

"First of all, Bones, I was never angry with you. My anger was an all-encompassing fury with myself and at the poor choices I've made in my life. I never meant for you to think I was mad at you." He reached up and caught another rebellious tear that fell down her cheek. "I did get mad when you said you had a date tonight, but it was from jealousy. I felt like we've been getting closer to where I thought we both wanted to be, but then to hear you say you were going out with some guy I'd never even heard you mention before, I figured I'd been, once again, misreading the signals." He traced his forefinger along the soft line of her jaw, preparing to make a few confessions of his own.

"You know, I changed my jogging schedule through the park so I could catch up with you. I've been trying to 'accidentally' find myself crossing your path more often, literally, so we can spend time together." He hoped she wouldn't think he was a stalker.

The corners of her mouth twitched without permission. "I adjusted my start-time so I begin twelve minutes later than I used to, so you would have time to catch up." Her impish grin grew when she watch his face light up.

"I can't wait to bring you coffee in the mornings, mostly so I can see you finish getting ready for work. And it gives me the perfect opportunity to drive you to the lab, so I then have an excuse to pick you up in the afternoon…" He shrugged at the admission, unable to hide the twinkle in his expression.

She tightened her grip on the one hand she still held. "Most mornings, I put off making coffee until the last possible minute, just in case you show up with some."

He laughed and instinctively drew her in for a hug, effectively cocooning her with his arms and legs. Booth felt her arms loop around his waist and grip the back of his shirt. After a few moments, she settled her head under his chin, pressing her temple against his throat. The agent spread his hands wide, running them up and down her back, the motion telling him that she was naked beneath her shirt and he knew he had to keep talking...he wanted this conversation finalized.

"You're the last thing I think of at night before I go to sleep, and the first vision I imagine when I wake up. It takes everything I have, all my energy, not to grab my phone first thing and call you… Just to say 'hi' and to hear your voice." He brought one hand up and palmed the side of her head, smoothing her hair down. "I love your voice, Bones."

Realizing that this was the time to make all her admissions, but suddenly at a loss for words, Brennan nudged her head up a little, rubbing her cheek against the collar of his t-shirt. "I dream of you almost every night, Booth. And the nights that I don't… those are followed by the mornings when I call you early..."

"I think," he pulled back and encouraged her to look up at him, "that we have arrived at a turning point, Bones." He studied her face seriously, rubbing a lock of satiny hair between his fingers. She was looking up at him, her trust in him apparent, and momentarily, he forgot to breathe. Her creamy skin, touched with a hint of natural blush reminded him of an angel. My genius, awkward, nerdy, atheist angel. My Bones. He finally felt confident enough to go for broke, to take that final gamble. "I love you, Temperance. I can't remember a day of not loving you."

She felt like crying, but in a good way. She was no longer worried about his feelings, no longer concerned with whether or not he would be receptive to her own declaration. "I love you too, Booth. I never thought I could love anyone, but I have learned that it is impossible for me not to love you."

Fighting his baser instincts to just push her to the floor and take her, Booth cradled her face, that fragile, square jaw that had haunted in his dreams for the past eight years, and he kissed her gently. His mouth pressed against hers, reacquainting him with her soft, sweet lips. Feeling her move against him, fisting the back hem of his shirt as she moved impossibly closer, he couldn't stop the tip of his tongue from peeking out to taste her again.

At his gentle request for her to open to him, she acquiesced immediately, tilting her head to the left and parting her lips for him. When his tongue swept into her warmth, stroking against hers, she suddenly imagined that the unlikely theory of spontaneous combustion was entirely possible. A flash of reality played through her mind and she remembered something she had privately promised to tell him, and it was important enough to interrupt their kiss.

"Booth," she was cut off as his mouth followed her when she backed away, nipping at her lips. After several more moments of playing dueling tongues with her partner, she attempted once again. "Booth?" Her mind went blank when his mouth assaulted her neck, licking and sucking the skin just beneath her ear.

"Hmm?" He hummed against her sweet skin, getting drunk on the taste that was uniquely Bones.

"Booth… I need to tell you something…" She was breathless, her focus wavering and her hands working themselves under his shirt without her permission.

"Mmm-hmm?" He refused to let go now that he was finally doing what he'd been wanting to do for years.

"You… You need to… to stop, so, so I can... t-talk…"

He growled in disapproval, but reminded himself that they still had some important things to discuss. With one final slow lick that ended with her earlobe in his mouth, he pressed a kiss against her and pulled back. With heated eyes, he pulled his fingers through her long layered hair. "You're fucking delicious," he couldn't stop the words from tumbling from his throat, he was completely taken by everything about her. He pressed another light kiss against the apple of her cheek. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'll stop…" Feeling her cheek raise in a smile, he pulled back and met her happy eyes.

"Booth," she brought one hand to his cheek. "I just want you to know that I want to experience monogamy. I want to be just yours."

There was never a doubt in his mind when she had finally admitted her feelings, that they were entering into an exclusive relationship, but to hear the promise spoken aloud in her deep, alto timbre made it all so real. Unwilling to stop himself again, he leaned forward, pushing her backwards until she was flat on her back as he hovered over her, suspending himself on his extended arms.

"Our movie!" She suddenly realized their movie night was going in a very different direction than originally planned. Unfamiliar with traditional dating, she wasn't sure if this was acceptable.

"We can watch the whole series, one after the other, tomorrow." He lowered himself to her, still suspending most of his own weight, but pinning her down. "Right now, I wanna do this," he nibbled at her mouth, teasing her lips open. Once she started getting into their heavy petting again, he pulled back playfully, looking down at her heavily lidded eyes. He was going to tease her about her thought process and ask why she interjected their make-out session to mention the movie, but he was suddenly distracted.

Brennan was rubbing her hands up his arms to his shoulders, pushing his short sleeves out of the way as she stroked his skin. Bringing her grip back down to his forearms, she met his eyes with darkened blues. "I enjoy the feel of your arms, Booth." Her voice was soft, husky and full of something akin to awe. "You have a very pleasing physique and," she traced her fingertips upwards once again, tucking her fingers beneath his shirtsleeve, "when I was watching you exercise earlier, I started to become aroused…"

"Yeah, I know." His smile grew smug as he lowered himself to her lips, pecking her softly before pushing himself back up, completing one complete push-up. Extended above her, his eyes darkened. "I knew you were there the minute you snuck in, y'know…" Lowering himself again, he spoke against her neck. "I could smell you..." Pushing up, he cocked an eyebrow. "And I could feel your eyes on me."

"Maybe I'll come watch you more often," she cooed as her hands dipped down and started to toy with the hem of his shirt. "You seemed to perform well with an audience."

"I have a better idea than entertaining an audience of one," he lowered again, kissing her hastily before pushing up quickly. "How about you start assisting with my push-up routine?"

Looking up in question, she wrinkled her forehead. "How?"

Dropping quickly but carefully, he braced his elbows on either side of her head. "Just like you're doing right now, by laying right here," he muttered and covered her mouth with his, claiming it as his own and fisting her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist, smoothing her palms up the smooth skin of his bare back where she'd pushed the shirt out of her way.

Finally discarding the faded concert tee completely, she looked hungrily up at him, her mouth curling into that crooked smile that he loved so much. "I don't think you're gonna get very many push-ups done if this is your new plan, Booth." She stretched her neck so she could lick his shoulder. "Maybe I should be on top…" Her challenge was playful and sinful and everything in between.

Flipping their positions before she could even grasp what was happening, Booth settled on his back and centered her atop his body, her thighs straddling his hips as he thrust his hands beneath her threadbare shirt. "We'll figure something out, Bones. New workout routines always require a bit of adjustment." He peeled her shirt away, revealing her torso to his ravenous eyes for the first time. "But," he rolled them again, snugging himself between her parted thighs, "not this time… This time I just need you to help keep count…" He started to move down her body, peppering kisses and light licks along the way.

They both knew he wasn't talking about counting pushups.

Postscript A/N

I thought about breaking this into 2 parts, to make them shorter chapters, but I didn't feel there was a decent place to break, so I left is as one piece. I know there are many of you who don't care for my long chapters, but I didn't want to break stride. Hope you didn't mind the length too terribly.

Thanks for taking the time to read. Please let me know what you thought.

peace & love, my friends

~jazzy