Created November 2014 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts; Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings

A/N: 11/16/2014 - Enjoy!

"It might be too cool to walk. I could call a cab…" Booth eyed her protectively. Neither of them was used to speaking so openly about the other, and they had spent the whole afternoon with Sweets. If he felt what he was feeling, he was terrified of what was going on in her head.

"No let's walk." Brennan said quietly. "I'm sure that it's not too cold outside."

"Okay." Booth watched his partner as they descended in the elevator. Her head leaned against the wall as she stared off into space. He knew what she was doing. She was recounting what had just transpired in Sweets' office, trying to make sense of what the three of them had just discussed.

"Hey." He said softly. "What's wrong?"

She turned to look at him, a look of questioning on her face. "We lied to Sweets, Booth."

"What! No, we didn't lie to him, we just didn't tell him everything, Bones. He doesn't need to know everything."

Brennan stood up straight, turning toward him. "No Booth, we lied. Well, I lied and then you lied to support my lie. You didn't correct me."

He slipped his hands in his pockets, his trench sweeping behind him. He stepped toward her. "Well, him knowing doesn't change how things panned out, does it? He hit on all the big themes in the book, no?"

"I suppose so."

The pair exited the building and headed down the Sandburg stairs.

"You know what you really need?" Angela suggested, more than asked. "Sex."

Brennan gasped in surprise. Angela usually had such excellent instincts about things, but this was…way, way off. "Angela, I assure you, I am not lack for sex. Peter and I maintain quite an active and rigorous sex life. In fact, I don't feel it to be hyperbolic when I say that it's not possible for us to have more physical relations than we do."

Angela sighed at her brilliant, but obtuse friend. "I'm sure that's true, Honey. But I'm talking about the book?" She held up the manuscript for emphasis. "The forensics is fascinating, for sure, but this as it is written right now, this will only have appeal to a small population of eggheads. You're trying to introduce science and technology to a whole new demographic, right?"

"Well, that would be ideal. Dr. Goodman says that the new leadership on the Jeffersonian board is strongly encouraging the museum heads to broaden the marketability of our work in an effort to appeal to donators. As one of the Jeffersonian's marquee scientists, I'm trying to do my part to ensure that our department is consistently well-funded."

Angela smiled triumphantly. "Then listen to me, Honey. You need characters…and your characters need sex. Trust me! Blue bloods love the sex. If you mix all this macabre brainy science with characters and sexy? You will have a best seller on your hands! A best seller will mean acclaim, and maybe a request for a sequel. A sexy best seller will attract the blue blood donators to the Jeffersonian. Win-win! I will l say it again: blue bloods will love the sex! Sweetie, did I ever tell you how I bankrolled my last trip to Paris?"

"How?" Brennan's curious eyes were alit with fascination.

Angela grinned smugly. "I was commissioned to do a set of erotic panels for the winter home of a Belgian prince."

"Really?" Brennan marveled. She loved to live vicariously through the exotic tales of Angela Montenegro's artist-slash-party girl journey.

Angela shook her head. "Yes. And he was so impressed, he invited me to stay with him that winter so that he could showcase me and my work to his other ritzy snowbird friends. I made a killing. The sex wasn't too bad either." She winked.

The two outcasts shared a traditionally girly giggle. "If I was writing about your experiences, I'm certain that I would have a best seller." Brennan finally sighed, a hint of hopelessness in her voice. Like her friend, Brennan too had forged her own path with independent hubris, yet with a dramatically different, often lonely backstory. "The forensics is a reflection upon my actual experiences Angela. It's what I know."

Angela frowned. "But there were other people involved in your experiences, Sweetie. In this entire story, you've only given name to your protagonist and the killer. Everyone else involved is "the facial reconstruction expert, the FBI investigator, the district attorney. It's impersonal."

"But giving them identities is irrelevant to the outcome of the case."

"Yeah, but they will help you build a plot around the case and all your super-science. It also gives the readers some context about how they should feel about Kathy. Yeah, she's a brilliant scientist who is really good at figuring things out. But she's got no layers, no depth, no personality, she loves no one and no one loves her. Are people supposed to like her? Are we supposed to root for her? How does she feel about the people she works with? How do they feel about her? From what you've got so far I can't tell."

If she blinked, Angela would have missed the flinch, but she saw it. Brennan bit her lip as she struggled to keep an even tone. "Is that what people think of me?" she asked quietly.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit….Angela jumped up from her chair to sit next to her friend.

"Shit, Bren! No! Not at all! Honey, I'm talking about Kathy!" Angela placed her arm around the stiff figure. In the short period of their friendship, she had learned how quickly Temperance Brennan could infer the wrong conclusions. "You are not Kathy! Sure you're brilliant and all that, but you're so much more!" Angela paused to gauge her friend's level of pain. Brushing the hair out of Brennan's face, she continued. "You're incredible, Bren. You're gorgeous, passionate, and sexy as hell. Yes, you're quirky and blunt, and you can be awkward, but mostly, you're earnest, principled and fearless. Shit, you're practically a superhero!"

Brennan smiled at her friend's irrational characterization, finally allowing a tear to escape. "That's silly, Angela."

"Well, I may be silly, but I'm also lucky to have a friend like you." Angela grabbed her hand. "You have so much depth, Honey. You're just very selective about who you let see your layers."

"Angela…" Brennan sang, her expression flush with her appreciation of Angela's accolades.

"Shush! I know you feel the same about me, so we're even." Angela teased. Knowing that Brennan didn't like to linger on emotional topics, she continued. "Now, back to the book, Sweetie. All I'm saying is, think of the science as the skeletal structure that holds your story together. But remember, human beings aren't just bones, they're flesh and blood too."

Brennan nodded slowly, beginning to comprehend Angela's inference.

"Let the characters warm up them bones!" she teased. "Give Kathy some friends and conflict and some nookie! Let your imagination run wild! I've read some of your short stories, Bren. You're a great storyteller."

Brennan squirmed uneasily. Angela Montenegro was the first person with whom she had ever shared her writing. For years, Brennan's creative writing and her imagination kept her company as the rest of the world existed around her.

In Angela, Brennan felt as if – however irrational the thought - one of her characters brought to life. Someone smart and creative, full of life and opinions and truth. Someone who enjoyed spending time with her. Someone who saw beyond her perceived social impediments. Angela was special.

Brennan had been vigilant for when Angela would reveal a darker side (as had everyone else in her life before), but it never came. So for now, Brennan resigned herself to enjoy the intimacy of their friendship. A friendship contingent upon their mutual respect and honesty with each other.

"Use your talent, Honey. This doesn't have to be autobiographical. Think about some of the greatest books ever written. The ones I'm thinking about gave life to something unique and thought-provoking. Something to make you feel. Tell me, what is your favorite book?"

Brennan thought for a moment. "Well, I read extensively, so there are many books that I enjoy, but I would have to say that I always enjoy Isaac Newton's Principia…"

Angela stared blankly at her best friend. With a deep breath she tried again. "Okay, well I love a good math and physics read as much as the next girl, but I was thinking of something from the fiction genre. Bren, have you ever enjoyed anything of the flesh-and-bones type? Anything thing of the this-century variety? Something that I may have read?"

Brennan reset, processing Angela's question. "Oh! Well, not this century, but I've always been fond of Bronte's Jane Eyre."

Angela smiled, immediately recognizing the themes that would be appealing to Brennan. "Okay, well there you go! Definitely a vanguard heroine for her time! Nice! So tell me, if you were to imagine Kathy as a heroine for our time, what would that look like?"

Brennan smiled. "I think that I understand."

His howl of pleasure was low, long and throaty as he held her tightly to him. As if all of their mutual strength had been sapped, they collapsed unceremoniously to the bed.

"Woo! Ooooof!" he sighed, sated and completely exhausted. He lay on top of her, their sweaty bodies still melded together in delightful afterglow. His hands remained curled around her waist, trapped between her body and the bed as he peppered her neck, shoulder and cheek with thankful kisses. "Tempe, have I told you how much I love Thursdays?

Brennan's body vibrated with laughter, amused by the lilty octaves his voice had taken. "No."

"Well I do!" he asserted, nipping at her earlobe before turning them both and pulling her to lay on their sides. He clung to her in their spoon, leaning his cheek to rest on hers. "These past few weeks of Thursdays, you have been insatiable! Damn, girl! I think I blacked out at one point…"

"I have?" she shifted, beginning to feel a little constrained by his grasp.

He made nothing of her ignoring his comment. It was not the first time, definitely not the last. "Hells yeah! Ever since you started going to those synergy meetings at the FBI, you come home so ravenous to fuck!" He nudged her with his hips. "And I'm only too happy to oblige my little porn star." He whispered conspiratorially. "I can barely keep up Temperance, and I'm not complaining."

"Mmmmph." Brennan squirmed uneasily as Peter's tongue teased against her neck. Suddenly, the feel of his body against hers was suffocating. She turned her face toward his, causing him to halt his actions. "Peter, the sheets!" she warned. "Can you take go take care of…?"

"Right! Of course! Sure thing!" he agreed as he released her and slipped out of the bed.

Brennan sat up in the bed, her thoughts racing about the live-in physicist's comment. In reflection, Peter was indeed correct – during this past month, she had been extremely solicitous of his physical attention upon her return to her (note: not theirs, her) apartment after her Thursday meetings at the FBI.

"I bet it's because you get to rip those suits a new one!" he called out from the bathroom. "It must feel great for you to boss those bureaucrats around some, especially given your past history with government agencies…."

Brennan rolled her eyes as she got out of the bed. As much as she enjoyed her close friendship with Angela, in direct proportion, she had come to loathe that Peter knew as much as he did about her past and consistently used it as a means to try and "relate" to her.

It was becoming clearer to her: the relationship experiment was failing. She had theorized that if she identified a male with whom she had sexual and intellectual compatibility, she could comfortably emulate the façade of a happy couple, thus eliminating her eligibility to be pursued by other men.

One specific man, though she would never admit it.

But something was missing in the Tempe-Peter dynamic, and to her utter frustration, she feared that it was an emotional connection that created the void between them. Temperance Brennan was not interested in the fickleness of emotions. Emotions were messy and fleeting, and…ephemeral. Yes, ephemeral, she told herself. She had devoted way too much effort to reconstructing and reinforcing her defenses from ever being hurt again. She reasoned that her friendship with Angela availed her enough intimacy. Romantic and familial love was not in the cards.

Not that she would ever be at risk of falling in love with Peter, whom she found to be quite insipid. Were it not for his advanced physicality, she would have ejected him from her home already. But having Peter in her life had merit.

Especially on Thursdays.

She rose from the bed, put on her robe and headed toward her computer, continuing to ignore Peter's incessant blathering in the bathroom. She was realizing that she may have a problem: Agent Seeley Booth. That infuriating, confounding know-it-all cop who insisted on battling with her every Thursday afternoon.

And how wonderful it made her feel.

Ugh! It frustrated her – how week after week, he easily he convinced the room of scientists to agree to his recommendations for process improvements between FBI forensics and the Medico-Legal lab. Given the direct impact on resources under her domain, she agreed to participate in the synergy meetings designed to improve the collaboration between the government agencies. Much to her irritation, she found the entire project to be another intricate ruse to lure her into a room with him.

Though the pair had covered the hatchet, Brennan continued to battle Booth's solicitations for her direct support on cases. Thankfully, Zack had successfully obstructed the rule-evading agent's unyielding (albeit flattering) pursuit of her. She felt as if he was trying to consume her. She would eventually credit Booth for being the inspiration of the weasels who consume the first body in her story. But for now, she couldn't wait for these series of meetings to complete.

It had never occurred to her to simply send Dr. Goodman or Zack in her place.

So every Thursday, inevitably, the group of eight representatives from each institution would dissipate until the only the "Bickering B's" remained, reined and muzzled solely by the artful redirects of Agent Charlie Burns. And so, after a month or so of Thursdays, times sixteen government employees, times two hours per person per week, the goals of "synergy" had devolved into yet another example of wasteful government attrition.

Attrition.

The act of exhausting.

Friction.

The act of rubbing together.

"The work structure will remain as is. All Jeffersonian interaction with the FBI will channel through Zack and Agent Burns." She declared.

"Dr. Brennan." Booth started. "Please consider this from an efficiency perspective. You insist on reviewing and approving all case work that comes into and leaves the Jeffersonian. Your team members relay it to Zack. Zack relays it to you. You take the…" he hesitated as he withheld the phrase he was thinking (sweet-ass) "time that you need, before you turn it back over to Zack, to turn over to Charlie and Marcus-"

"Who is Marcus?"

Booth turned to Charlie in disbelief before turning back to Brennan. "Marcus is our lead forensics technician. He sits next to you during these meetings? On the right?"

With one sniff, Brennan dismissed Booth's shocked visage at her non-recognition. Booth looked at Charlie again before clearing his throat. "Okay, let me come at this a different way. Let's just say that we've got layers of inefficient information routing to eliminate on our end, too. It would be so much easier for us to have peer-to-peer interaction."

"Are you saying that you want me to work directly with this Marcus person? What are his credentials?"

A knock on the glass door caught their attention. Charlie exited the room to address the summoning.

Booth moved one seat closer to Brennan. "Well, no Bones. Actually, I'm recommending that your assistant work directly with Marcus. All the back and forth for Charlie limits his ability to do his job effectively. He's not a field guy, what he's good at is handling all of the moving parts. I'll be in the field, Marcus would be in the field, and Charlie would be managing operations between all groups here at HQ.

"So you don't want me?" Brennan asked innocently a tad hurt.

Booth stared at her, focused on maintaining a look of dispassion.

If you only knew, Bones.

Again he cleared his throat, a stalling tactic that he began to use to reset his distracting thoughts about her. Seeley Booth was committed to keeping Temperance Brennan in his life – professionally.

Relationship-wise, he knew that she was probably more trouble than it was worth. With the earnest strides he was looking to make in his personal life – kicking the gambling habit, getting his career on track, and adhering to Rebecca's ridiculous demands about Parker – he needed what he had right now: Cam. A long distance friend with benefits. A pal, an easygoing, uncomplicated relationship with a career-focused lady who only wanted nice, easy Seeley every now and again. Sex, laughing and friendship. No time for romance. Not with Cam.

And there sure as hell was no way was he going to try and cross that line again with Temperance Brennan.

Trouble with a capital "T".

"Dr. Brennan, we welcome your participation on cases, but it would be a waste of your talents to work directly with Marcus. Frankly, I would be best served by your insights on cases-"

"What? That's absurd! If he's worth his title, I'm sure that this Marcus would reap the benefits of my knowledge and direction. And you know I won't work with you. If Charlie's not the best liaison, perhaps there's another agent who could be installed – "

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. There are no other agents that available for the leadership team for this unit."

"I'm sure that something can be worked out. Perhaps I should speak with your Deputy Director? The one that I met at the courthouse?"

Booth snorted. "By all means, you can try. However, this is not a priority issue for Deputy Director Cullen. That's why he's authorized these synergy discussions, so that we can figure it out collectively."

"But we exhausted all options! I cannot fathom that there is no other –

"Bones!" he snapped, startling Brennan out of her chatter.

With eyes wide, she sat quietly in the FBI conference room, momentarily alarmed that once again, Seeley Booth was proving that he was much like those people from her past who she never wanted to encounter again.

And though she quickly tried to mask her reaction, he saw it.

In Brennan's eyes, Booth saw an expression that he knew too well. One that he, himself had worn. Damn it, if it didn't explain her reaction to him that time before. She had said she hated him, but it wasn't him she was saying it to, was she? She was reacting to someone from her past, someone who had hurt her, who scared her. And when she smacked him, she was hitting that person, because she was finally strong enough to defend herself.

In that moment, he knew.

But he didn't know her well enough to speak of it, he wouldn't dare. The best that he could do was to change her impression of him. All of their sparring over the past several weeks didn't mean a damn thing.

He sat back to create more distance between them. "Bones, Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry. Snapping at you is out of line. I didn't mean to….Well, it was not my intent to be short with you. At the courthouse, I promised you my respect. Yeah, I'm a hothead and I can be a bully, and my tone was a little too harsh. You don't deserve that. Please know that I would never hurt you. I know you have evidence to the contrary…"

She watched him carefully. Though discerning visual cues was far beyond her skill set, she felt comfortable and reassured – almost safe – in his presence. "I understand. I believe you."

Booth sighed with relief. "Okay. Good. Thank you Dr. Brennan."

Brennan nodded, fascinated by his irrational need to present well to her.

"Now listen, I just want to be honest with you here." Booth exhaled. "It's just this. Except for me, nobody wants to work with you." He braced for her next outburst.

"Oh! That's all?" she laughed.

Booth laughed too, surprised by her response. "I thought you'd be more upset."

"No, of course not! There have been many people who have declined working with me, just as I declined to work with you." She explained.

Booth smiled sheepishly. "Good point." He sighed. "Well I guess we've come full circle then. I want to work with you, and you won't work with me."

Brennan's mouth curled with a mischievous grin. Perhaps we can work something out."

Booth returned her grin. "You are not going into the field with me. Crime scenes, sure. Interviews? No way."

Brennan pouted.

"Thanks again for coming to this dinner with me tonight, Babe. If I secure this grant money, we may be spending Christmas in Geneva. Wouldn't that be great? Hon? Tempe? Babe?" Peter poked his head out of the bathroom door.

Finally realizing that he had been speaking to her, Brennan responded. "I'm sorry, what?"

Peter raised his hands to nevermind her. This was not the first time that she tuned him out. Lately, he was striking out with the talking. Perhaps he could sway her with the promise of more sex. "C'mon, let's take a shower together, sticky lady. I'll suds you up real nice!" he sang.

Brennan bristled at the thought, although she retained the courtesy of a polite smile. She shook her head to decline. "No. We really don't have much time before your dinner. Take your shower, I'll use the guest bedroom and bathroom to get ready." She stood up from her computer, heading toward her closet to retrieve her dress.

Ah! My Ice Princess returns. Peter sighed, walking toward her. "No, I'll use it. No use of you hauling all your girly things back and forth between rooms." Plus, half my stuff's already in there. He chagrined.

"Oh, okay thank you, Peter." She stated. She watched as he grabbed his suit from the closet. As she headed toward the bathroom, Peter attempted to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek. Stiffly, she waited for him to complete his gesture of affection before abruptly stealing away to the bathroom, slamming the bathroom door.

Peter stared at the closed door, shaking his head. This fucking shin-dig better have an open bar.

Before heading down the hall, the flashing cursor on the laptop caught his eye. Since her hen session with Angela, every free moment that Temperance had, had been focused on that book she was writing. Curiosity overtook him as he went over to sneak a peek at her latest update.

With one more quick turn back at the bathroom door, he read her latest:

"I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a little bit there, Kat. That was incredible."

Kathy's body vibrated with laughter under the welcome weight of him. For the first time since their encounter on campus, she really looked at him. Andrew Lister was a magnificent specimen of a man. A good man. Dark, handsome, intelligent, principled; a little dangerous, perhaps – but she never felt safer.

"Why are you here?" she wondered, not realizing that her words were audible.

He smiled, his rich brown eyes deepened almost to ebony. "Because you let me be here:" he whispered sweetly, his handing cupping her face. "It's too soon, and I know it sounds crazy, I know, but I think that this is going somewhere."

Kathy chuckled. "That does sound silly." Her hands indulged in his massive shoulders as she drew him in again for another kiss. And then another. "I was expecting something more well-reasoned from a Harvard man." She teased.

"Enough with the ivy-bashing, Bone-Lady." He threatened, pressing his hips to hers suggestively. He lowered his mouth to the soft flesh of her bosom, making a trail to her neck. She arched her body into his touch. There was no close enough.

"I'll bash for as long as you won't let me get my way." She threaded her hands through his dark mane, imagining the curls that would exist were it not for his close cut.

"Perhaps we can work something out." he suggested, hovering over her nose-to-nose.

She smiled at him. "You have the most amazing smile." She confessed. "Stay, tonight? Please?" she asked hopefully.

Peter smiled broadly as he closed the laptop.

Maybe my ice princess isn't so icy after all.

Charlie popped his head into Booth's office. "Hey, you got a minute?"

Booth looked up from the case file in his hand. It was the tenth of the month, so today, like every tenth day of the month before that, he was reviewing all his open case files. Much to his frustration, he was in the middle of reviewing the stalled work-to-date on the Cleo Eller disappearance. For as many successes that the young agent had, that he hadn't been able to make progress with this cased tormented him.

Booth sighed. "Yeah. What's going on?"

Charlie walked into Booth's office, at which point, Booth noticed several less-than-stealth glances at him from the agents in the bullpen.

What is it now? He wondered. He plopped the case file on his desk and leaned back.

"Your lady scientist wrote a book." Charlie approached Booth's desk slowly.

Booth winced, grabbing his football. "Oh shit, did she breach something from the confidentiality agreement? Fuck, Charlie! I should have known better than to trust a Squint to follow the rules!"

Charlie put his hands up. "Oh no, nothing like that! At least not that I'm aware of..."

"Okay, good!" Booth sighed as he leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a minute before tensing again. "So wait, what is it? Is it bad? The book I mean? She's a genius, you know, I bet it reads as dry as the bones she loves so much, huh? A real clunker."

Charlie shook his head. "Um, no. It's good actually. I'm halfway through it. My wife's book club picked it up last week and she didn't put it down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Brennan's picture on the nightstand, I started thumbing through it. She wrote a murder mystery. Kinda Dan Brown-y, but with forensic-science stuff, y'know?"

"Oh." Booth nodded. "Good for her." He watched as more people stole looks into his office. What the Hell was going on? "Wait, am I in it? What, did she make me the murder victim? Did she kill me in some gruesome way? No! That's not punishment enough! I bet that she made me out to be a "stupid cop", character? Jesus, all because I won't take her out in the field?"

Booth watched as Charlie uncharacteristically took a seat in Booth's visitor's chair. "Oh, you're definitely in it, but…"

Were it not for the fact that the event was taking place only a building away, Temperance Brennan would have easily begged off attending this evening's event. But the soft launch of her book been a surprising success and some hoity-toity named Bancroft was insistent that the Jeffersonian host a celebratory event in her honor for the full launch. Given the full-court press of her agent-assigned publicist, Dr. Goodman and Angela's co-conspiracy to ensure that she take this event seriously, she finally acquiesced, allowing for an onslaught of clothing, hair and make-up stylists to breach the sanctity of her office.

Never again. She stewed. Never again will I allow such mindless primping and preparation to occur in my office.

The bargaining chip to agreeing to all of the fuss, was that Brennan wanted a little solitude before her grand entrance. The attention that Bred to the Bone was receiving had been surprising. Though she had been confident that her authoring was well-executed, she was ill-prepared for the overwhelming response. While she appreciated that others appreciated her craft, she found it all rather distracting from her true passion of forensic anthropology.

Thankfully, Peter had not been a contributing irritant, as his work had been taking him in and out of the country. His absence availed her some "breathing room", as Angela called it, and perspective. The freedom from his hover had solidified her determination that things would be ending between them soon. The volatility of their disagreements was increasing, and her ability to mitigate its impact through sex continued to decline.

She leaned against the column out into the gardens. She loved this place. The Jeffersonian was a place of comfort for her. It had been a place where she – finally – felt settlement. She looked out into the gardens that separated the Medico-Legal lab from the Jeffersonian administrative building, where the event was being held. For the evening's event, the gardens had been filled music and Japanese lanterns to encourage donators to wander and marvel at the beauty of their potential investment.

She prepared for her routine. She realized her role as one of the Jeffersonian's leading scientists, and she played her role accordingly. No longer were there check-cashers, these were check writers and Temperance needed to comport herself accordingly.

The cool air of the spring evening kissed her arms and back as she descended down outer steps of the Medico-Legal building. She gathered her wrap around her as she savored the quiet walk between buildings.

From the administrative building, Booth watched, transfixed. DC buildings were famous for their evening glow, and the Medico-Legal lab was no exception. The way that the lights hit the steps at this time of the evening and the pale blue of Brennan's dress gave her the appearance of a luminous nymph descending into the water. Silently, he watched as she seemingly floated toward his building. Like the sniper he was, he hid within the shadows, watching, admiring.

His mouth had never been so dry, the racing of his heart so fast. She was ethereal, a goddess, even – wrapped in the billowy drape of fabric against her body. As she approached the building the woman behind the specter came more into focus. Her dress had a conservative boat-neck front but left her back exposed to a belted waist. The skirt of the dress traveled to her ankles, as multiple layers of thin fabric flounced which each step. Her hair was soft curled and swept to one side.

Old Hollywood vibrated off of her, as Booth thought back to Saturday afternoon movies with Grams and Pops.

She's a fucking goddess. He thought. Aphrodite. No, Athena.

And she has no idea.

One day, he resolved.

One day, he would swear his grandchildren to secrecy about the day he knew his life would never be the same. One day he would hold her frail hand in his, and tell her of how she captured his heart in that moment.

One day he would see her again in the moonlight and would lose control of his ability to not kiss her.

One day.

But for now, the precious secret of the goddess that he witnessed was his, alone. A fantasy really.

But he knew.

So taken was he, he momentarily forgot how to move. "Shit." He shook his head as if it would help him out of his trance. "Get it together, Seeley."

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his rented tux, finding anchor with his lighter.

Here goes nothing.

"Dr. Brennan." He called out.

Brennan stopped immediately. Since the back doors of the building had not yet been opened to guests, she was surprised to have company. And in recognition of the voice, she felt her chilled body warm. She could not see him at first, but soon he emerged from the darkness.

"Agent Booth." she stated as calmly as she could. Given the flimsy organza of her dress, she irrationally feared that he'd see her heart beating from her chest. At minimum, he could see the flush of her cheeks. She had often been in the presence of very handsome men, but there was something about Booth, and the cut of his tuxedo was not helping. She chided her physical reaction to him, but sighed, resigned to the fact that body chemistry couldn't be helped. Brennan's mind flashed with the sentimental memory of her mother teasing her father about leaving him for James Garner, something that had upset and confused her as a child. But in this moment, she understood her mother's threat.

"I don't want to hold you up from your party. I just wanted… wanted to see you. To congratulate you on the…you look very…." He gushed.

"You should probably stop while you're ahead." She teased, feeling her normal confidence return with his stammering. "You continue to stumble over your words when we meet initially."

She had remained in place as he walked to shorten the distance between them. "You're definitely right there." He grinned sheepishly. "But I figured out a way to change my luck in this area."

He was close now, close enough that she could detect the scent of his aftershave and spearmint on his breath. It was no longer her space, she was in his magnetic field. She wanted to step back, but she found herself desperately curious as to his next action. "How?" she asked, her face forced to tilt up given his proximity.

His hand slipped from his pocket to her cheek as he surveyed her face. Too much eye makeup, he concluded. Why cloak these amazing eyes? Tenderly his thumb stroked her cheek as his eyes dropped to her mouth. He neglected the shimmering pink blush on her lips as he planted his mouth on hers for a brief kiss.

He pulled back to gauge her reaction. She was silent, but flecks of orange sparked in her eyes, which darkened more with every passing moment. The corner of her mouth curled with the briefest of smiles before she placed her hand on his arm. He smiled back, his other hand slipped from his left pocket and around her waist, fingers brazenly stroking the bare skin on her back. She stepped into his grip, her body warmed by the heat encased within the tuxedo. She brushed her nose against his. Booth interpreted this as an invitation to kiss her again, and he obliged.

For minutes they remained in their embrace – kissing, exploring, tasting, nibbling and sighing. Occasionally they would come up for air, but neither seemed rushed to leave their cling. At some point, they both became aware of the increased volume of the music from inside: the back entrances were opening. Brennan pushed and Booth pulled back toward a shadowy corner. As a few groups of people walked out toward the gardens, Brennan stayed in Booth's arms, her head resting on Booth's shoulder. She was pleased to find his heart racing as rapidly as was hers.

"I think your hypothesis has been proven. This the best greeting you've ever delivered." She observed, pulling back to find his face in the darkness.

Booth laughed before kissing her again. "Well, even Agent Andy can have a good idea now and again." He leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

"What do you mean?"

He had become used to her obliqueness. "Agent Andy. It's obvious that I'm him." He fixed her hair, stroking down errant strands that his excited hands had mussed. "I have to admit, I just found out about the book on Friday. I haven't had the chance to get too far into it because this was weekend that I have my so-"

"You're not Andy." Brennan clarified, stepping back from Booth. "Is that what this is about? You think that the agent in my story is you? Because he's not."

Booth laughed in disbelief. Is she crazy? "Okay, Bones. What's going on here? I know I've only read a part of the book, but it's incredibly obvious that Lister is based on me!"

"Don't call me Bones!" she frowned.

"See! Right there! Andy calls Kathy 'Bones' in the damn book, Bones! And she doesn't like it either."

"The why are you calling me Bones? I don't like it."

Booth took a deep breath, certain that the genius before him was off her rocker. "You don't see the connection there?" He growled as she shook her head. "Bones! I got called to Human Resources on Friday because of the book. The Bureau thinks that there was something going on between us on the Arrington case! I had to sit through an hour-long fraternization video and sign, like… twenty forms stipulating that there was no hanky panky going on. Caroline's still gonna have to review all of our testimony to see if there's any grounds for appeal!"

"Who is Caroline?" she questioned.

Booth nodded to himself. Okay, she is nuts. "Caroline Julian? The Federal Prosecutor? Snarky Creole lady? She put Judge Hasty away?"

Brennan shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "I have a tendency to eliminate recall of people's names when our interactions are purely transactional. That was almost eight months ago."

Booth laughed, recalling that Caroline, too was foggy on who Temperance Brennan was. "Fine! Look, Bo-, Dr. Brennan, let's just say that that I'm not Agent Andy. A lot of people think I am. I think I am, but fine! You say I'm not."

Brennan shifted uncomfortably.

"I kissed you because when I was reading the book, I thought, 'that's why she doesn't want to work with me. She wants this.'"

"Well you were incorrect." She sniffed nervously.

Booth scowled, spreading his stance. "Am I? Because not more than five minutes ago, your tongue was halfway down my throat, and your hand was stationed even further south than that! Call me cocky – pun intended – about my detective skills, Bones, but I'm pretty sure you want to be with me!"

Brennan searched her thoughts, finding herself unusually ill-prepared to respond. "I, uh, I-"

"There you are!" Angela called out in relief. "I have been looking everywhere for you Honey! What are you doing out- oh, hi Booth!" Angela grinned broadly until she realized how tense the scene was before her.

"Hello Angela." He said politely. "You look very pretty."

"I do, don't I?" she smiled smugly. "You're looking very, very…very dapper yourself!" she surveyed. "Except for the pink lipstick. Not your color." She beamed as Booth thumbed the color from his mouth. Turning to Brennan, Angela continued. "It definitely is yours, Honey, but it's a little smudged. Here, let me." Angela pulled out a handkerchief from her purse to wipe Brennan's face. With an emphatic arch of her eyebrow, she cautioned "We can't have Peter seeing you like this, now can we?"

The confusion spread across both Brennan and Booth's faces, obviously for different reasons. "Peter's here?" Brennan asked quietly.

Angela frowned as she pulled the gloss from her purse. "Yep, caught a redeye flight to be here for your big night. Said he wouldn't miss it for the world. He's in the atrium by the bar right now."

A concerned, slightly panicked Brennan looked at the pair. "I should go see him. Excuse me." She mumbled.

Booth and Angela watched Brennan steal away. Once she was out of their sight, Booth eyed Angela. "Peter?"

"Yeah. The boyfriend. Been together for a while. They live together."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yep." Angela smirked crossing her arms. "She didn't mention him, did she?"

Booth stared at Brennan's friend. Why is she so happy about all this? "No. Uh, no. Well, I didn't let her. I kinda just…"

Angela shook her head and laughed. "I get the picture, Booth, and from what I see, it's very hot. Nice going, Agent Andy."

Booth rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. "She says I'm not Agent Andy."

Angela rolled her eyes and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you Not-Andy. I'm Not-Amanda."

As the evening wore on, Brennan was miserable. She was stuck at an event that she had not desired, smiling at people that she didn't care to know, with a man that she didn't care to be with by her side. Worse yet, there was a man who she wanted to be with – a man she sensed that she had hurt - who had been watching her all night. Against her will to stave off her emotions, she felt the need to speak with him and offer an explanation.

"Could you please excuse me?" she asked of Peter, extricating herself from his grasp. "I will be right back." Peter kissed her cheek and watched her walk across the marble floor to Dr. Goodman and someone he didn't know, but for some reason, seemed familiar.

"Who's that?" Peter asked Zack.

Zack looked over. "That's Dr. Goodman and Agent Booth."

Peter's jaw dropped. "I know who Goodman is, Zack!" he swallowed. "That's Booth?"

Hodgins smirked, sensing Peter's surprise. "Yeah, he's the FBI guy that we worked the case with last year. Why do you ask?"

Peter stammered. "I always thought-. The way she described him, I thought he was way older, balder, fatter."

"That's surprising." Hodgins stifled a giggle (he loathed Peter). "She describes him perfectly in the book."

She followed him into Goodman's office and watched him pace back and forth for minutes before he spoke.

"Look, I realize that it's my own fault for assuming that you were just waiting for me to kiss you. I should have asked about your situation."

"Booth."

"I should have asked, but no! I just figured…and with the book…you kissed me! You kissed me!" he accused.

Brennan stepped toward him. "I'm sorry for our miscommunication."

Booth glared at her warily. "And the way you kissed me! Man! ….You're living with him now? You guys live together?"

Brennan fidgeted. "Well, we both travel extensively. We're rarely there at the same time."

Booth scoffed. "Just forget it. Let's just forget that kiss happened at all. From here on it, we're ABAT. All business, all the time. I was just talking to Goodman, and he told me that we'll move forward with my strategy for FBI/Medico-Legal collaboration."

"What? No! I haven't agreed to that!" Brennan snapped. "I want – "

Booth shook his head. "Look Bones, at this point I don't care what you want. I've have enough of what you want. What you want is reckless, and I already have enough crazy in my life. I will see you at the Hoover next Monday. OK, partner?"

"I have not approved this." She fumed, watching as Booth exited the office.

"Sorry that I kissed you." He sneered, not looking back. "Won't happen again."

Brennan stamped her foot in frustration as she took her turn pacing the floor. She was certain that Booth had Jedi-mind melded Dr. Goodman into agreeing with his synergy plan for spite. It was all too much. Between these new demands of the book and dealing with Booth, she felt as much control as she had when she was fifteen.

Never again. She had sworn to herself. She needed to figure out a way – and quickly – to regain control of her life.

"Tempe?"

Brennan looked up from her pacing to find a grim-looking Peter in the doorway. She groaned.

"We need to talk."

She blew a deep breath as she prepared for this conversation.

I need to get away.

Booth hung up with Gibson and hopped into his truck. Buying that round of drinks for Homeland Security a few weeks back was paying off. Now he had more time to get to Dulles.

He'd still need to figure out this whole Angela thing out. He owed her big-time. Tipping him off that Bones was coming back from Guatemala was a coup – the past couple of months had been shitty for all of them "left behind", as the collaboration between the FBI and the Jeffersonian had basically stalled, and Booth had all but lost Cullen's ear. Fucking Agent First was so far up Cullen's ass these days, Booth was tired of checking emails for notice of a floor reorganization.

He wondered at Angela's motivation? Maybe Angela was bored with the dusty old work she was most likely doing at the Jeffersonian, she definitely seemed a bit wilder than the rest of them. Maybe she was interested in him. She was cute, a little left of his normal type, and perhaps a little too fun? He had sworn off Easy Seeley since he had broken things off with Cam a month ago and things seemed to be moving forward nicely with Tessa. No need to rock the boat.

…Or maybe she was playing wingman for Bones. Too bad that ship had sailed.

The only thing on Seeley Booth's mind was the serendipity of Angela's text arriving the same morning he got notice about the remains found at Arlington. He needed Bones to get his career back on track and she owed him, taking off like that with no notice. That damn book gave her so much pull with the Jeffersonian board that even Goodman couldn't get her back from her dig. But she was back in DC and she owed him.

She could help him get his ducks in a row.

Whether she liked it, or not.

A/N2: Part Two in the Can! Now that this is done, I can return to The Seasons in the Fourth and Collide. Going to pick up Conspiracy Theory during the holiday break too.