Hello you lovely people. How goes it? Me… well, my muse is stuck. Has been since that stupid finale episode which was stupidly awesome and amazing and has totally and completely sucked all the angst right out of my muse. It didn't occur to me until recently that I started writing fanfic after all the you-know-what hit the fan in the 100th episode. A summer of happy, fluffy Bonesy and Boothy feelings? What the heck's a writer to do?

So… here's this series of one-shots intended to stretch the muse. The most creative part of it is actually the title & summary. To quote a friend of mine, I suck at stories, but the summary is great. Afucking awesome title, really.

This series is called 'Just Coffee'… that's the only running theme. Just coffee-related moments with our favorite partners-in-crime-fighting that explore their "Just Coffee" relationship that's anything but. There is no canon or consistency concerns here. Sometimes, my Bren may be pregnant, sometimes not. But you can bet your cocky belt buckle that everything that happens here is a safe distance from that dreadful H-person.

*thinks about the finale again* *giggles about the finale again* *angst-loving-muse sighs*

Props to JMHaughey for the read-through and encouragement… and on with the show.

Sticks and Stones

.

"Come on Booth, it's the championship game. I can't go, but someone should get to enjoy it."

"Oh, I definitely have no issue taking these… whew," he whistled looking at the shiny tickets in his hand. "Fourth row back?" Booth finished on a whimper.

"They're good seats Booth," Agent Sanders said in a prodding tone. Standing with his partner, Agent Monroe, in the homicide division's kitchenette, the guys were desperately trying to sell off the tickets they each spent a few thousand dollars on for a game they weren't going to get to see due to a narcotics bust they needed to make tonight.

"Come on, Booth, we can negotiate," Monroe prodded.

"Guys, I'd love to buy these tickets from you, but they'd cost me a month's salary and an arm and a leg."

"Why would they want your arm and leg?" Brennan interjected after walking into the kitchenette in search of her partner. "That sounds like an archaic bartering process, though I am not familiar with its origins," she added, almost to herself.

"It's an expression, Bones, for something that's far too expensive to ever, ever consider," Booth said, turning to his partner and handing her the cup of coffee he had just poured before turning to pour himself another cup.

"What is it you're not considering?"

"These are tickets to Game Six of the World Series, Doctor Brennan. The Phillies are in it to win and tonight they're going to clench the series and Booth here, supposedly the team's biggest fan, is going to miss it."

"How much do tickets to a baseball match cost?" Brennan asked, the other agents chuckling at her use of "match."

"They paid $4,000 for each ticket!" Booth exclaimed, breezing right past her misspeak.

Brennan tilted her head and Booth could see the wheels in her head turning. He was about to interrupt the process when she said, "I think if you were to have your arm insured, it would more than cover the cost of those tickets. But, if you insured it and then actually cut it off, you would not get the money in time for the game tonight. However, you wouldn't need to cut off both your arm and leg. Unless your leg is for whatever reason valued at a higher rate than your arm, but with your shooting experience I would assume your arm would be worth more, financially."

All the men chuckled at her thoughtful consideration. "Bones, it's just an expression. An arm and a leg is like… well, it's like when you say 'break a leg.' You're wishing someone good luck with the expression, not wishing that they actually break their leg."

"Why not just wish them good luck, aside from the fact that there is no such thing as luck?"

"Come on, genius, there are many body-related expressions out there," he said, bumping her shoulder. "Surely you've heard someone say 'get your foot in the door' before?" Booth asked.

"Ooh, or how about 'talk to the hand,'" Monroe chimed in.

"Or a 'shot in the arm,'" Sanders added.

"Play by ear," Booth said.

"A foot in the door is not likely to result in injury if a person was wearing appropriate footwear. And my reaction to 'a shot in the arm' is that it is painful, as I have in fact been shot in the arm before, so I speak from personal experience. And if you are making references to expressions related to the bones in the body, I will again remind you that your ear is made of cartilage, not bone," Brennan answered, pinching and wiggling Booth's ear.

"Hey," he yelped, playfully swatting her hand away from his head, as she smirked.

"Oh. Okay… I've got one," Booth said proudly. "You have to know this one Booones. Ready? 'Sticks and stones may break my Bones…" Booth started.

Brennan's eyes lit up in excitement because she did, in fact, know this one.

"But chains and whips excite me!" she shouted proudly.

Booth had chosen the wrong moment to taken a sip of his coffee and was grateful for Brennan's forceful back patting as he choked on it.

"Bones!" he eventually gasped exasperatedly.

"What?" she asked innocently. "That's how the song goes."

Monroe and Sanders were doing their best to contain their laughter. But they were not successful. "That is how the song goes, Booth," Sanders stuttered out.

"It's 'but words can never hurt me.' Words. Can. Never. Hurt. Me," he sounded out. "It's a very well known expression," Booth said, shaking his head in amazement of his partner.

"Well, that's nonsensical. Words aren't things. You can't shoot words at people or stab people with words. Of course they can't hurt you."

"Okay, it's time to go to work, Bones," Booth said, scowling at the still chuckling agents as he led his partner out of the room. "Sorry about the tickets, guys…" he said, before they left. The agents could still here them talking down the hall.

"Will you teach me some more of these colloquial body phrases?"

"Sure Bones, I'll lend you some of my index cards to take notes on so you can study," he said teasingly.

She put her hand in his face and playfully pushed him away. "Talk to the phalanges, Booth."

P.S. If you didn't get the joke, I encourage you to listen to Rhianna's song "S&M". Cause I giggle thinking of Brennan's reaction here every time I hear it. (Perhaps I'm just too prone to giggling?)

P.P.S. Have you heard of #ProjectBones? Visit fellow FF writer Thnx4thegum's Livejournal page to learn more about the summer fan projects underway! (thnx4thegum (dot) livejournal (dot) com)

Finally, reviews are treasured. And while I have several "Coffee" shots already done, writing prompts are strongly encouraged. The muse needs your help! :D