Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Okay, so I'm super excited to be posting this story because it's a ... wait for it ... a collaboration with the awesome Dispatch22705. We will be writing mirror stories around the same premise and Dispatch does a much better job explaining the whole thought behind this idea in her story, Anyway He Wants It, so go check it out!

Asked and Answered

Thursday Night …

"Weeell," Angela stretched the syllable out, her body reclining against the colorful couch in the break area above the forensics platform. "I think it's time I get home to my husband."

Cam shook her head in amusement. "Angela, you know very well your husband is not at home."

"That's correct," Brennan supplied helpfully from her position on the table. "He's still here. It seems there were some particulates he was unable to identify, so even though we've already apprehended the culprit, Dr. Hodgins insists on —"

"Ugh," Angela interrupted with a roll of her eyes. "You guys are no fun."

"You know, you've been married for a while now, Angela," Cam pointed out in all her cynical glory. "You'd think the novelty would have worn off by now."

"Nope," Angela shot them a smug smile, turning her head to watch through the bar rails, her husband working at his station. "Maybe what I should have said was, I think it's time I drag my husband home."

"Married life and motherhood certainly seem to agree with you," Cam observed, noting the glow of happiness that seemed to envelop the forensic artist on a daily basis. "No regrets, huh?"

"Zero point zero."

"There's no such thing …"

Angela ignored Brennan's attempt at correction, head tilting consideringly. "Well, zero point zero regrets about marrying Hodgins, but I guess sometimes I do wish there had been time for a good, old-fashioned bachelorette party." Angela sighed wistfully. "You know, I didn't mind giving up the big, fancy wedding, but the bachelorette party, that one really hurt."

Cam laughed out loud. "Of course it did." Suddenly she got a disturbing picture of Angela as a little girl, staging her dream bachelorette party with her dolls, instead of her dream wedding. The image made her laugh even harder and she gasped, "Well, let's just have one now."

"What?" Angela's brows rose in surprise.

"Sure," Cam nodded, warming to the idea. "Why not? There's no rule that says you can't have one after you're married."

"Well, Dr. Saroyan, the name itself suggests otherwise," Brennan piped in, but she too was smiling at the idea.

"Well, Angela may not be a bachelorette, but we are." Cam set her empty cup of coffee down on the table and gestured to her and Brennan. "And hey, if Angela feels like she missed out on something important, I say we should just do it."

"It does sound like fun," the woman in question agreed, her brown eyes turning to her best friend. "What do you think, Bren?"

"Well, anthropologically speaking, marriage can hobble personal autonomy, thus such a sexualized ritual prior to the marriage represents an important part of feminine empowerment." Considering, she addressed Angela. "Of course, for you, this wouldn't be prior to—"

"Bren," Angela laughed. "Forget anthropology, this is just about fun. You in?"

"Won't Hodgins have a problem with this?" Brennan wondered.

"Oh, please," she scoffed with an unholy gleam in her eyes. "He'll be too busy thinking about the wild, crazy drunk sex he'll get as soon as I get home."

"Okay, certain information I could live without." Cam rose from the table, rubbing a tired hand over the back of her neck. "So you just have to show up. Dr. Brennan and I will take care of the rest, right?"

"Of course," Brennan agreed immediately, a mental list already forming in her head. "Dr. Saroyan and I are both highly intelligent. I'm sure we can throw a very successful bachelorette party."

"Absolutely," Cam concurred confidently. "Just one question, Angela. Do you want low-key or the whole nine yards?"

"Oh, the whole nine yards, Cam." Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Definitely, the whole nine yards.

-x-

Seven days later …

"Whoa, Cam," Booth whistled appreciatively. "Looking good."

"Thank you, Seeley." Cam turned in the short, flirty skirt that showcased her excellent legs. "According to Dr. Brennan's research, a seductive outfit is a requirement for a bachelorette party." She chuckled, recalling the conversation with her forensic anthropologist on the subject of appropriate attire.

"Oh, yeah, that's tonight, huh?"

Cam smiled at his casual tone. "Yes. Tonight worked best for everyone. Angela got a sitter, we have no active investigation and Michelle and one of her friends are working on a few, last minute college applications together. I was so glad she's broadening her search, I gave her permission to stay over at her friend's for a few nights." She spared a glance at her slim and feminine wristwatch, before looking at Booth again. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking over the paperwork for the case we closed last week and Bones forgot to sign the last page of her report."

"Ah, she's been distracted planning this," Cam smiled warmly. "She really wants Angela to get her whole nine yards." Inclining her head in the direction of Brennan's office, she ordered, "Go get your report signed; we're leaving in five minutes."

"Are you rushing me?" Booth asked, shoulders rolling back. "Because I gotta say, it seems like … oh, holy shit."

The last few words were whispered breathlessly and Cam followed his line of sight, the reason behind them, immediately apparent. She smirked at the dazed look on Booth's face as one Dr. Temperance Brennan approached them in three inch heels and a very tiny excuse for a dress.

"Booth, what are you doing here?" He seemed incapable of speech and Brennan turned to Cam. "I'm ready to go. This is appropriate for the occasion, right?"

A choked sound escaped Booth and Cam bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Most certainly, Dr. Brennan." Taking a step closer to Booth, she elbowed him as discreetly as possible. "Booth has something for you to sign."

The sound of his name and the accompanying elbow to his ribs, brought Booth out of his trance. "Yeah …" He thrust the report forward, almost in self-defense. "Yeah, you forgot to sign the last page, Bones."

"I did?" Brennan took a step forward and he nearly took one back. "Let me see that."

She took it from his hands, scanning through the pages and Booth tried to ignore Cam's amused presence next to him. He knew he wasn't doing a very good job of concealing how sucker-punched he was feeling. But, dear God, he had raised his eyes and suddenly there was his partner, looking like a damn wet dream and walking towards him.

"Oh, Booth, I'm sorry," Brennan apologized. "This is actually not the final version, that's why it isn't signed." She bit her bottom lip, the way she did when she felt bad about something. "The difference is really just a few minor edits, but I must have given you the wrong copy. The correct version should be in my office, let me just go get it."

She turned to head back to her office and Booth inhaled one sharp breath at the two criss-crossing lines that were the back of that dress. "Do not say a word," he hissed to Cam, before following his partner.

He leaned against the doorway, watching as she rummaged through her desk. "You look gorgeous, Bones."

The words were out before he could stop them and Brennan looked up in surprise. "I realize that was a compliment, Booth, but you're frowning so I'm unsure as to whether you're being sincere or merely observing social niceties."

"Of course I'm being sincere," he replied tersely, feeling aggravated at his own inability to compartmentalize. But who the hell would be able to compartmentalize her when she looked like this?

His eyes trailed over the miles of perfect skin exposed to his gaze and he swallowed, unable to stop himself from wondering if someone else would be touching all that skin tonight. Courtesy of Hodgins, he knew they had some big night planned, involving large quantities of alcohol and scantily clad men. And the bug man had zero problems with it because he knew Angela was going home to him. Right then, Booth would have traded just about anything for the same peace of mind.

"Then why are you frowning?"

"Bones," he sighed, raking an agitated hand through his hair. "I want you to be careful tonight, all right? Don't drink anything you haven't seen poured yourself, don't let anyone isolate you from …"

"Booth, I can take care of myself." Brennan just barely prevented herself from rolling her eyes. "This is not my first time going out."

"I know that …"

"Oh, here it is!" Brennan picked up the correct report, scanning through it quickly to make sure her signature was on every appropriate page. "Here you go."

She walked around her desk, extending the bound pages in his direction. Booth stepped forward, taking the report from her. She was close enough that he could smell her and his nostrils flared at the scent of her perfume.

"You're wearing new perfume," he murmured, fingers tensing around the report in his hands.

"W-what?"

"Whatever it is you're wearing," he repeated stormily. "You've never worn it before."

"How can you possibly know that?"

Booth wasn't aware, but his eyes darkened at the question. His body leaned forward just the tiniest fraction, his eyes fascinated by the curve of her lips, painted almost the same dark red as her dress. "I just know."

"Bren!" The shout of her name, clearly coming from somewhere outside her office, made Brennan blink. "Come on, sweetie, time to go!"

"I have to go," she said quickly, stepping around Booth and heading for the door. He followed her silently, watching as she walked towards Angela, who was currently wrapped around her husband.

"Angela, you can mount Hodgins later," Cam reminded her. "Let's go."

"You're looking beautiful, ladies," Hodgins complimented, releasing his wife. "Have a good time."

Angela leaned forward for one more kiss and he cupped the back of her head to keep her in place. The kiss prompted Brennan to grab one of Angela's arm and Cam the other, hauling her away. "See you at home," she smiled wickedly.

Hodgins laughed, watching all three women exit the lab. "Man, they are gonna cause a riot wherever they go tonight."

"Yeah," Booth said dryly, making Hodgins' eyebrows go up at the tone. It was then that he noticed his friend's scowl and the rigid set to his jaw. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"Beer?" Hodgins offered.

"Oh, yeah."

-x-

"Man, you are crappy company tonight," Hodgins observed mournfully.

"Thanks, Hodgins," Booth said, tipping his beer back. It was his third of the night and he was in no better mood than when he arrived at the Founding Fathers.

"Look, man, they're just out having a good time. Dr. B is not—"

"Bug man, I recommend you don't finish that sentence."

"So you don't want to talk about this?"

"What are we, girls?" Booth gave him a disbelieving look. "No, I don't want to talk about this. Not even a little bit."

"All right, all right, but can I just say one thing?" At Booth's raised eyebrow, Hodgins pushed forward. "I know what you're thinking, but come on; Angie and Cam were looking just as hot. It doesn't mean anything."

Booth set his beer down. "See, that argument doesn't help me because Ange is married and Cam is actually on the prowl tonight."

"What?" Hodgins gaped, choking on his beer. "How do you know?"

Booth shrugged. "I know Cam. She was all fidgety and looking at her watch. Classic signs."

"Well," Hodgins tried again, "that doesn't mean that—"

"Seriously, this conversation is over," Booth stopped him in his tracks, his voice telling Hodgins he spoke on the subject again at his own peril.

Despondently, he looked around the bar, unsure what to say to get Booth out of his brooding. "Ah … you want another beer?"

"No." Booth set aside his half-finished bottle and threw some bills on the table. "I need to drive home."

"Dude, if you want to get wasted, I can drive you home."

"Thanks," Booth chuckled appreciatively. "But I'm good. I'm going to head out, okay?"

"Yeah," Hodgins rose from the table as well. "I should go home myself. Tuck my child in." His blue eyes sparkled. "Wait for my indubitably drunken wife."

Booth slapped Hodgins on the back in that way guys do when they are saying good-bye and drove home. He walked through his front door and to his bedroom without bothering to turn on a single light. Standing at the foot of his bed, he knew falling asleep was going to be a problem. Stripping his clothes off, he was somewhat surprised to realize that he was hard. With a grunt, he headed for the shower. His hand hesitated on the knob, debating whether to make the water cold or warm.

Cold or warm. Cold or warm.

Normally, Booth wouldn't hesitate to just climb in the shower and take care of business. A few dirty thoughts, a few tight strokes and he would be feeling a lot more relaxed, except already he knew that it wasn't going to be that simple tonight. Because he knew that if he jerked off tonight, it was going to be thinking about his partner. Over the years, he had tried to avoid that particular mind trap. Not that he hadn't had slips—because he sure as hell had—but he did make an effort not to go there. Because as good as it was in the moment, it always left him feeling aching and empty afterwards. Worse, it always, always, left him even more desperate to have her in his arms.

With a sigh, Booth climbed in the shower; the warm water hit him and he stopped fighting it. Tonight he was willing to pay the price.

Wrapping one hand firmly around his cock, he let the images wash over him.

That smoky red dress, so beautiful against her pale skin, was hiked around her waist. He had hiked it up, spreading her open and going to his knees in front of her. On a groan, his hand glided up and down and then she was the one on her knees, leaving dark red lipstick all over his dick. The head of his erection was almost throbbing and he wrapped his fist around it, squeezing tightly.

"Damn," he breathed the word harshly, the pleasure almost obscene. His hips shot forward into his hand and Booth could almost feel the soft skin of her hips under his fingers and his body slamming into her from behind, the papers on her desk scattering to the floor in disarray. But at end of the day, where he really wanted her was in his bed. Absolutely naked under him so he could touch her every damn where. Kiss every centimeter of skin. Bury himself so deeply inside her, he'd never find his way out.

"Bones," her name escaped, the way it always did when the orgasm rushed at him fueled by nothing but her. Fuck, it was always her. "Oh, god, Bones."

In his mind, she enveloped him completely. Her arms and legs going around him, her body moving under his, and her scent—tonight it was that damn perfume he couldn't get out of his mind—wrapping all around him.

With a shuddering breath, Booth's forehead hit the tiled wall in front of him, his body drained. The orgasm was so damn good, he could barely move, but all too soon reality set in and he forced himself to finish his shower.

Damp, towel wrapped around his waist, he stood at the foot of his empty bed. How many times had he pictured her there, in the middle of his bed, pretty dark hair spread across his pillows? How many more times would there be in the future?

Looking down at the sea of white sheets made something painful lodge in his throat.

Fucking A.

-x-

The next morning …

She was sitting behind her desk, typing something on her computer and sporting that irritated frown that always meant she had gotten some sort of request from her publisher or her editor that she considered less than reasonable. If he had to guess, he would say she was shooting them back one of her classic emails; polite, so polite, but short and succinct and leaving no doubt that she was going to do whatever the heck she wanted.

He could tell all that with just one glance at her; but he had no freaking clue whether she'd had sex last night. It annoyed him to no end. He was a trained investigator, for god's sake. One look at Cam on his way in and he'd known she'd gotten lucky last night—probably one of those rare one-night stands she treated herself to once every couple of years. Like a mini-vacation, she'd told him once in that deadpan tone that made him laugh.

So yeah, he was a damn good investigator, but he couldn't get a read on his partner. Booth was pretty sure he knew why. Same reason why interrogating someone when you were too close to the case was worthless; the more the answered mattered, the harder it was to get it.

"Are you planning on coming in, Booth?" She aimed an arch look in his direction. "Or will you be lurking in the doorway all day?"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," he shot back, walking into her office. "Let me guess, your publisher wants something."

Brennan rose from her chair, slightly annoyed at the accurate observation. "Why are you here?"

"We have a session with Sweets," he said quickly. "Thought I'd pick you up a little early, grab a bite …"

"Oh, I forgot about that. I can't make it." She walked by him briskly to where her lab coat was hanging. "Didn't you see my grad students out there?"

"Yeah," Booth shrugged. "Was wondering what that was about. What's with the squint invasion?"

"Examination."

"Ah." Booth's eye narrowed in confusion. "You have more students than that, though."

"Yes," she nodded, shrugging into the lab coat. "I'm conducting the examination in groups of four. There are too many to do it all at once."

"So you want me to call Sweets and tell him to reschedule us," he guessed.

"If you wouldn't mind."

Booth's eyes followed her fingers as she buttoned up her lab coat and he watched with some surprise as she walked back to her desk and opened a drawer.

"Headache, Bones?" he asked softly as she swallowed two aspirins. "Maybe you had a little bit too much fun last night."

"No, I had exactly the right amount."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Without realizing it, he took a step forward, all his hackles raised by her response. "What exactly were you up to last night, Bones?"

There was something in his voice that warned her to be careful, but it hadn't escaped Brennan that he had been scrutinizing her, much the same way he scrutinized suspects in his interrogation room, and it made her bristle. "What exactly do you want to know, Booth?"

She rounded her desk, coming close enough that he caught her scent. It wasn't that freakin' perfume that had tortured him all night, but it was just as intoxicating. She always smelled so damn good and it pissed him off. "Did you take someone home last night?"

Her eyes widened a little, probably in surprise that he'd actually asked the question. "And how is that any of your business?"

He bit back a humorless laugh. She was something else. It was all fine and dandy for her to stick her pert nose into his business, but when the tables were turned, she was all righteous indignation. Was that fair? Fuck, no.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Booth gritted out, arms crossed over his chest. "Answer the damn question."

Oh, she was definitely being interrogated, Brennan concluded in outrage. Maybe it was that very thought that made her snap.

"What if I did?" His lips thinned and his eyes flashed, but she wasn't going to back down. "What if I spent all night having sex? Maybe I did pick someone up. Someone who was tall and dark and I took him home and I let him fuck me everywhere; my living room, my bedroom, my bathroom."

"Bones …"

"Everywhere," she repeated, blue eyes drilling into brown. "What if I said I couldn't get enough, that he fucked me so hard, I can still feel him …" He took an involuntary step back and she took one forward. "What if I went home alone, instead?"

Booth swallowed hard, feeling nearly stunned. His throat worked, but before he could even begin to form a thought, she took another step forward, her blue lab coat nearly brushing the lapels of his gray suit.

"What if I spent all goddamn night tossing and turning in bed," she breathed, the hint of bitterness in her tone difficult to disguise. "Trying to prevent myself from fantasizing about the one person I shouldn't even be thinking about like that. Fighting it, until I couldn't take it anymore and then all I could do was strip down to my panties and make myself come."

A small, barely audible sound escaped his lips and she licked her own which were suddenly dry. "And it was good, dipping my hand between my legs, touching my own wetness until my body arched off the bed and I cried out in relief. It was good, but it wasn't enough."

Her taunting voice turned hoarse and nearly angry. "Is that what you really want to know? That masturbation is not enough. That I want the real thing. That I need it so badly, I almost feel like I'm going crazy. Have I confessed enough? Have all your questions been answered to your satisfaction, Agent Booth?"

Even if he could have formulated an answer, she was already walking out, leaving him frozen in place. Her words flashed through his mind like a reel and all Booth could do was brace his hands on the desk in front of him and breathe. The first few sentences had horrified him and he'd almost turned around and walked out of her office. But by the time she was done, he was fairly certain that she'd spent last night the same way he had: using her own hands and her imagination.

White-hot heat rose up his spine at the way she'd sounded; hot and desperate. And he was pretty sure all that desperation was for him. Whatever else was going on in that brilliant head of hers, she wanted him. Maybe she just wanted to satisfy those biological urges of hers, but not just anyone would do. The fact she wasn't out picking someone up told Booth that no one else would do; she was hot for him.

And hell, he was fucking desperate for her.

-x-

"As you all know, this exam constitutes forty percent of your final grade." Brennan's clipped voice brought every grad student to attention. Even Clark, who was merely assisting, stood a little bit straighter. "I hope you are all prepared."

Four eager heads nodded yes as Brennan stepped onto the platform, hands going up to collect her hair in a ponytail.

"Mr. Bray," she announced, taking her position at the head of the stainless steel table and accepting the clipboard Clark extended. "We'll begin with you. There are a number of injuries visible on this set of remains. Please, identify one of them." Her eyes drilled into him. "In detail."

He gave her an above average answer and Brennan noted it down before moving on to the next student. The perky blonde girl who received the same question reminded her eerily of Daisy, but was not nearly as intelligent as the exhausting Ms. Wick. Her answer was acceptable at best and she made the corresponding notation. Brennan nodded to Clark and he asked the same question to the third student. She listened carefully to the answer, blocking everything else out; mainly the voice in her head asking stridently whether she'd lost her damn mind.

Shaking her head, she refocused on the task at hand. "Mr. Fisher, please examine the scoring on the left scapula. Tell me what type of weapon you believe left the injury. Please, explicate your reasoning."

As Fisher leaned down to examine the bone, Brennan saw Booth approach the platform. Her fingers tensed on the clipboard in her hands entirely without her permission.

"Whoa, squints, hard at work." He looked around, chuckling at the air of intensity surrounding the four students, before addressing his partner. "Sweets bitched and moaned, but he rescheduled us for next Wednesday."

"Fine." Her eyes flickered to his and then focused determinedly on Fisher, who was staring at the bone in his hands as if his depressed life depended on it. "Booth, if you'll excuse us, Dr. Edison and I are conducting an examination …"

"Sure. Good luck, junior squints," he offered amiably, smoothing down his tie as he turned around to walk off the platform. "Oh, hey, Bones …" He half-turned, one hand on the rail of the stairway leading up to the raised platform. "Rebecca's taking Parker to visit her mom so she switched me this weekend for the next. So that project you mentioned earlier? If you want, I can help you out with it. I'm pretty sure there's enough space at my place, so if you want to pass by, we can take care of it anywhere there. I think, almost everywhere, really."

Just like that, he was down the steps and walking out of the lab. Brennan stared blindly at the clipboard in her hands. Her entire body felt flushed and she could only hope it wasn't reflecting on her skin.

"Dr. Brennan …" Fisher had placed the scapula back on the table and appeared ready to give his answer. "I have arrived at a conclusion."

Clearing her throat delicately, she nodded, "Go ahead."

Fisher gave his answer, a correct and well-reasoned one, but the sense of satisfaction she usually got after one of her students performed admirably was obfuscated by the buzzing in her head.

Had her partner really just offered to fuck her … everywhere?