Created January 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 and Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings.

AN: This all began with an innocent re-watch of Predator in the Pool. Just a one-shot. Got to keep moving.

"...we laughed. A lot, it felt good."

Brennan shook her head with polite encouragement. From practiced interactions, she understood that a socially acceptable positive response to his comment was to offer supportive words to her partner. He was attempting to move on, to find someone worthy of his love.

He deserved the affection and attention of a good woman. Someone with whom he had compatibility.

She constructed a tight smile. His eyes were on hers, as if he was expecting her to waver. She dared not.

"I'm going to see her again." he delivered. He took a swig of his beer, a swig long enough for him not to witness the unexpected, but definite disquiet that his words caused her.

Temperance Brennan was a master at masking her pain, pain that she'd unconditionally endure forever if it meant that the only man that she loved could find time, space, and someone good enough to help heal the wound of her rejection.

She continued to nod with feigned consent. "Excellent" she offered.

He was an expert detector of mendacity, but she was confident that she could deceive him with the same perfunctory affirmations that she told herself repeatedly. The alcohol served well as an effective aid of distraction, as well.

"You deserve a good woman, Booth." She submitted. Not that it was a lie, she quickly took a draw of her own beer to distract her own emotions.

Catherine Bryar seemed to fit the profile accordingly. Smart, apparently successful in her career in the science of marine biology. Physically attractive; gorgeous dark locks, mesmerizingly clear blue eyes, symmetrical features…

And funny.

Catherine could make Booth laugh.

Booth enjoyed women who had a sense of humor. Both Rebecca and Cam possessed sharp wit – Rebecca's sarcastic humor was akin to Caroline Julian's lawyerly quipping while Cam's acerbic wit had its cynical origins in her life as a New York City coroner. Even Angela had demonstrated a humorous ease with her partner.

But Brennan was uniquely funny in the way that she was – awkward. But how she wanted to be funny to Booth, she did not feel humorous.

He was stumbling over his words now, but it was no matter, she was lost in mental processes as her mind cataloged her own deficiency – she was not funny. And, she would never be able to be with Booth until she acquired that specific skill, among others. This training – cultivating a "Booth-worthy" sense of humor required significant development.

She wondered at why she found Andrew so funny. Was he really not funny, but simply equivalently as humorless as was she? Perhaps that contributed to their compatibility. Angela had suggested that they were both professionally sophisticated and personally transparent.

Transparent in her personal life - hmph.

At the time, Angela's words had felt subtlely egregious and facilitous - a commentary to elicit a counterargument from Brennan that Andrew Hacker was not the one with whom she belonged. Brennan had been quite impressed with her skillful table-turning of the conversation, redirecting the discussion towards Angela. Table-turning was a technique that she learned from her partner.

Were she truly transparent about her feelings, she would have admitted her affections to Booth that night on the steps of the monolith that cornered Pennsylvania Avenue and E. But she didn't feel good enough for him. She was not emotionally savvy enough to take care of him in the way he deserved. And he deserved to be happy.

While she was confident that she could achieve a suitable threshold of emotional intelligence worthier of him, she needed more time, and more training, and she refused to cause him the unbearable anguish of "waiting" for her. She would protect him from the pain she would surely cause him, even if it meant he found someone else.

Love was her tantamount priority for Booth, even if it wasn't hers to give.

Nonetheless, she would continue to train. With Andrew, a charming and funny FBI director, she would develop her sense of humor, as well as experiment further on romantic dyads.

"…you know what I meant." Booth laughed sheepishly.

Not fully aware of exactly what he had just said (as often occurred), she unconditionally accepted his assumptive close and replied "I know." What he had said in that moment was not important.

What was important was to gather data.

She looked down momentarily, hopeful to capture a tone that seemed relaxed and not urgent.

"So um, what did you laugh about?"

That next week, they found themselves again at the Founding Fathers. Another case closed, another set of dates with other people completed.

She had found herself unable to resist inquiring about the progress of his relationship with Catherine. While she enjoyed her social outings with Andrew, he unfairly failed every comparison to Booth, except for professional status. Booth was her standard, and like all the other men, Brennan was certain that Andrew would fail to measure up. But she was fine with that.

To her observation, she noted that her lukewarm enjoyment of her new companion continued to fall in direct proportion to what she construed as a solidifying foundation of Booth's relationship with Catherine. Against her better judgement, she felt compelled to keep her idiomatic hat in the ring.

"Our partnership is still important to me. You know that right?"

You will not be able to resist the man who showed you that Rat Pack is a good thing.

She heard the phrase in her head over and over again as the cab turned onto 14th Street. Booth had poured her into a cab just two hours earlier, but when she arrived home, that phrase, the mix CD and the prospect of a third date unnerved Brennan.

You will not be able to resist the man…

She didn't really care about the Rat Pack, but Andrew's boast had rattled her. The emotional torrent in her head kept landing on the same axis: topic agnostic, the only man that she did not want to resist was Booth. She was adamant in her certainty to the extreme of moral imperative: she could not allow Andrew's charm to usurp the sway that Booth had on her.

As a preemptive measure, she concluded, she needed Booth to explain the Rat Pack to her. If indeed she would be unable to resist any man, it had to be him. Once Booth had transferred this data to her, she was convinced that she could focus on continuing a stable courtship with Andrew.

She had been holding her breath from the time she exited the elevator, to his front door. She fidgeted, irritated and terrified by the crest of emotions that she was experiencing. Losing her last bit of confidence to knock on his door, she turned to walk towards the stairs when he surprised her by opening the door.

"Bones! What are you doing here?"

Save his striped socks, and black sandals, Booth was in all gray. He had changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. In his hand he held a garbage bag.

Brennan eyed him up and down, savoring his presentation. His t-shirt clung to his body like a warm hug, and while his sweats were loose, she could discern that his undergarment of choice was boxers. Were he to reach for something on a shelf at his eye level, she knew that she'd see a glimpse of his firm abdominals. The thoughts running through her head at the sight of him caused her neck to flush pink.

Speak. You need to speak. "I, uh. Um, you seemed knowledgeable about the Rat Pack. I thought I'd ask for your assistance with the assignment."

He laughed. "Huh?"

His laughter brought her no comfort. She knew that he was laughing at the absurdity of her request. He did not think she was funny.

"Bones, it's not an assignment. Hacker just wants to teach you something. Guys like doing stuff like that."

"You're right, I'm being silly. I can leverage Google. The jury's still out on the effectiveness of anecdotal instruction." she rationalized.

He eyed her cautiously. "Yeah, Google's a completely verified knowledge platform." He knew her, she was struggling with something. He needed to wait her out.

"I should go." she blurted.

"What, hey! Wait! Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're here already Bones. Why use Google when you can use me?" he offered sincerely.

She stared at him guiltily, but he interpreted it as irritation. He frowned at her, pointing into his apartment. He would not take 'no' for an answer. "Go. Let me toss this and I'll meet you in the kitchen." he ordered.

Brennan entered Booth's apartment. It had been a bit of a while since she visited, so she was comforted by the welcome sameness of it. Where he placed his keys. His phone. His jacket. His shoes. She chuckled to herself as she put her coat on the hallway rack next to Parker's spare backpack. She headed to the kitchen to grab beers…no, wine. Definitely wine.

Not thinking twice about uncorking a new bottle of the Cono Sur Cabernet in Booth's wine rack, Brennan grabbed the corkscrew, placing the wine glasses on the counter. Soon on her heels was her partner, who instead of going around the other side of the island to the sink to wash his hands, had elected to instead scoot past her in the narrow space behind her. She caught the clean scent of his freshly showered body and inhaled deeply.

She was no longer nervous. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

She was so relaxed that she was distracted. Brennan pondered the logic of taking out the garbage after a shower, thus requiring another washing of the hands. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed that Booth was standing behind her and was tugging gently on her wrists.

"Earth to Bones!" he teased, his breath ghosting her right ear. She turned to face him and Booth released her wrists as she did. Keeping her locked in his frame, he placed his hands on either side of her on the counter. He grinned as he watched her alarmed face catch up to his words. Once he was convinced that he had her attention, he licked his lips.

"You're doing it wrong." He stated plainly.

She frowned, searching his face for some indication of his meaning, but only able to successfully focus on his lips. When she had turned into him, she noted that he had also shaved and the smell of his aftershave lotion was deliciously distracting.

"W-What?" she squeaked, finding her throat to be very dry. She swallowed, her eyes reluctantly traveling from his lips to the eyes that she feared would undo her. She pressed back against the counter, needing to find support. She tilted her head slightly, irrationally wondering if he could read her mind.

Booth seemed amused to find his partner so unsure of herself. "No wine, Bones. We need Scotch."

"What?" she sighed, the words not yet processing. "We need - ?"

"Scotch!" he punctuated. "Lesson number one about the Rat Pack: martinis and Scotch – that's all they drank."

Feeling the strength in her legs returning with his cheerful instruction, she shifted, standing up straighter. "But I don't like martinis."

"Exactly, Bones! That's why we need the Scotch!" Booth grabbed the ice bucket shoving it in her hands. "Grab some ice bones. I've got the booze and the tumblers."

She hesitated. "But it's getting late Booth, perhaps we should forego-"

"Nonsense, Bones! If you want this education to be authentic, we've got to booze it up! Trust me! Neither of us have early morning plans, right? I'll take Parker's room and you can sleep in my room."

Brennan's mind flashed with a vision of her partner and the marine biologist in his bed. "You don't have to put yourself out, Booth. I can sleep in Parker's bed."

He frowned at her, confused as she always camped in his bed when she stayed over before. "Whatever Bones. It's a lock. You're staying the night, okay? C'mon with the ice! I'm going to find your second lesson."

"I bought the CD that Andrew prepared for me." she offered, placing the ice bucket on the coffee table. Let me go get it."

"Don't bother." Booth asserted. "I've got this, okay Bones?"

She beamed, certain that she had decided well.

About an hour in, Temperance Brennan knew everything that she needed to about the Rat Pack. While not as vast as Brennan's, Booth's music collection went deep into the history of the Rat Pack. The pair listened to the songs of Sinatra, Martin, Davis as well as a few bootleg cassette tapes of their Vegas standup routines given to Booth by his mother years ago.

To Brennan's surprise, she was very familiar with the catalogs of the men who comprised the coterie of performers. In fact, she disclosed to Booth – she had a cherished childhood memory of dancing with Max to 'The Candy Man' as a little girl whenever the Willy Wonka-esque M&M's commercial would air.

When Sammy Davis Jr. began to croon the original, Brennan popped up off the sofa, pulling Booth along with her to dance. Wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, Booth hesitated briefly at the potential proximity to his partner, but Brennan was not to be denied. Booth twirled her around the living room, buzzed by the Scotch and completely high on his partner as she giggled and laughed freely in his arms.

Bones, I could kiss you.

...could I do it?

He wondered as he weighed the budding courtship of Catherine Bryar against his unyielding love for his partner. His partner who just wanted to be partners.

He had realized the error of his approach in front of the FBI building. Bones needed well-reasoned evidence, but he had elected to assault her with his feelings outside the Hoover. His actions were so abrupt that she had not time to process them and evaluate her own feelings.

Her own feelings. He mused. Maybe he could do her in with her own feelings. He pulled her dangerously close as Sinatra began his version of 'A Fine Romance.'

He had figured out that her cover story for being in his arms at that moment was complete hooey. She had been blithely lost in the pleasure of a Seeley Booth Foot Massage when she murmured to him that the original Rat Pack was a group that had included Humphrey Bogart.

Bones had been Googling.

He knew that he probably should have called her on her ruse, but he couldn't help himself. Catherine was gorgeous and funny and uncomplicated.

But she wasn't Bones.

Seeley Booth didn't cheat. But all that had happened between him and Catherine was two shared meals and one promising good night kiss. Booth wondered if Brennan had unconsciously timed her visit in an effort to thwart the Third Date Rule that he was certain that Angela had explained to her.

He didn't care. He just wanted to hold her as tight as he could until her defenses returned.

'I've Got You Under My Skin' began to play. Brennan pressed her cheek onto Booth's shoulder and reveled in the feel of her racing heart against his. Blatantly she compelled her hips into Booth's natural response to her closeness. Groaning, he lowered his arms around her back, welcoming her press.

At this very moment, Temperance Brennan was completely unguarded. "Do you know what is a humorous coincidence?" she mumbled.

"What?"

"I am dating a man named Andrew. And you are dating a woman named Catherine."

"Hmm?" he nuzzled her nose with his in an effort to distract her from thoughts of Hacker.

"Andrew and Catherine. Andy and Cathy, the protagonists in my novels? It's almost as if we are dating the characters in my book. A humorous coincidence, don't you think?"

"Huh, that is…hmmm." He sighed.

"What?" she queried, not yet willing to remove her head from its perch on his shoulder.

"A coincidence is when something happens accidentally, even though it seems intentional or connected."

"Yes. That's correct." She agreed, willing to accept his word choice, though she would have conveyed the definition alternatively.

"And, you find the fact that you are dating an FBI agent whose nickname could be 'Andy' and I'm dating a scientist whose nickname could be 'Cathy' coincidental."

"Yes."

"Because they are our fictional selves"

"Yes!" She responded quickly, irritated by all of his talking. Still in his arms, she looked up at him. "Except that since Catherine's name begins with a 'C', I would expect her nickname to also begin with a 'C'. My character's name is Kathy, with a 'K'…"

"Yeah, Bones. I know." He pulled her tighter, silently reveling in his yet revealed victory.

"Well, why did you 'hmmmm'? Why is there need for further rumination?"

"It's just… I find it to be more than a humorous coincidence. In your comment, I that you have exposed our situation of irony. Socratic irony, at that."

She shook her head in disagreement. "Socratic irony assumes that one holds a pretense of ignorance in order to expose the false conceptions of another."

She remembered an argument that they had years ago in the truck about Alanis Morrisette's song "Ironic." He was repeating her definition of irony back to her, verbatim. His accurate recall of the definition had left her incomprehensibly short of breath and warm – low in her belly.

"Bones," he began slowly, deliberately. "All these years, I let you deny that I am Agent Andy."

She laughed automatically, prepared to deliver her standard defense. "Booth, of course you are not…." she began before she caught up to the realization of her earlier slip.

He nodded, urgent for the next moment. "I am. Otherwise, where's the humorous coincidence?"

He could see the gears in her walls of defense prepare to rise. Suddenly, she became aware of their intimate setting. Low lights, romantic music, Booth's warm, welcoming body, pressed deliciously to her own. She stopped their motion in a desperate attempt to regain focus.

"Your coincidence assumes that we are dating our fictional mates, Bones. And, for that to be the case, I must be Andy." He urged softly. "You just admitted to me that I am Andy."

"No, Booth, I - "

He loosened his grip on her, slightly, to allow her to step back, but he wouldn't let her go. "Bones, why are you here?" he asked gently.

"I wanted you to teach me about the Rat Pack." She defaulted.

"Just the Rat Pack, huh? Not because a little itty bitty part of you wants to maybe sabotage me and Catherine. And you and Hacker?" he questioned, not expected her to respond. Now was the time to put it all out on the table.

"Bones, that night. I know I scared you. But I know you, Temperance - open heart or not - you love me. You show me every day how you love me."

Her thoughts became jumbled. "You're supposed to love your partner." She searched for reason. "You-"

"That's not true and you know it. And that's not the kind of love you write about in your stories Bones." He rubbed her back. "Are you telling me that, all obstacles aside, a part of you wouldn't want to try to be with me? To love me? Like Kathy loves Andy?"

She stared at him. He deserved the truth. Of everyone in the world, she owed Booth the truth. "All obstacles aside…" she said slowly, trembling, but unable to look away. "I would want to be with you Booth. To love you."

She sighed. He sighed.

She said it.

She knows.

It was all he needed. He braced for her next and inevitable sentence.

"But I can't, Booth. There are too many obstacles, not the FBI. Not you, but me. I – I…It's hard for me. And I can't envision a scenario where I don't ruin things." Her eyes began to well up. "When I write about us, it's easy." She confessed. "I'm not…me. I'm Kathy. I am open and loving and I understand what you need and I give it to you. I'm normal." Her face anguished in disclosure of her emotional impediments. "But I don't know how to be 'normal' in reality. I don't know how."

Booth slipped his hands to her waist. "I don't need normal, Bones. I don't want normal. I want unique and quirky, brilliant and awkward, passionate and naïve." He trailed his hand down her arm, outlining the curves of her muscles, fingering the delicate skin. "Hard and soft."

"Booth," she whimpered, defenses weakened by her disclosure, his closeness, his intensity, his plea. Tears began a silent descent down her cheeks.

"I know that it's hard for you, Bones. But you're brilliant, and you've come such a long way. You can figure it out. And I'll wait for you Bones." He placed his thumb on her lip before arching her chin up. He planted a soft, brief kiss on her quivering lips.

She groaned at the release of her mouth from his. "You can't!" she protested. "I can't make you wait for me Booth. You need to live your life. I need you to be happy. Please?"

Booth shook his head and hugged her. She loved him. He could live off that until she was ready.

Or could he?

"Okay, Bones. I'll try to move on." he wasn't certain if he was being truthful in that moment.

"But you have to do one thing for me, okay?" He held his breath – hoping, praying on this next gamble. "Let's be them tonight, Bones. Be Kathy. Let me be Andy." He urged tenderly, thumbs wiping her tears away.

She was lightheaded from the mix of the Scotch, her weakened state and his nearness. She gripped at his arms. "I think I know what that means" she stated. Confirming, she asked "you want me to play the role of Kathy showing Andy how much she loves him?" she nodded, hopeful that she understood his request.

He stared at her, tears now in his eyes. "No. I want us to show each other how we feel about each other, Bones. But if you need to believe that you are Kathy, and I am Andy to do so, so be it." He shifted as he pulled her tight.

"But know this. Tonight, Bones…if you let me. I'll be making love to you. Not Kathy. Just you. I will be calling your name, screaming your name. My mouth, my hands, my - everything, will be traveling over your body, not Kathy's."

Logic dissolved as she pressed impossibly closer into him. The tip of her nose grazed his as she slid one arm around his firm torso to his back, the other slid up his chest towards his neck. Without conscience, she slipped her hand around his neck. He licked his lips quickly, excited to feel her resistance subside. He swallowed down a moan as she lightly caressed his neck.

Her chin tipped up only slightly, but enough to connect their bottom lips. Her breath hitched as he gasped against her mouth. His lips traced hers as he drew her into the want of the kiss. "When I say I love you. And I will – a lot. It will be to you, not Kathy."

He knew in that moment that he had her. She gave to him the most subtle of nods before he crashed his mouth to hers. He scooped her up in his arms, not releasing her mouth from his until they were next to the bed.

He laid next to her, his hands cupping her face and stroking her hair. She smiled warmly at him, unbuttoning her blouse. She pulled his hand against her chest, to her heartbeat. He smiled at her metaphorical gesture.

"Let me love you Bones." He pleaded. She shook her head to agree, pulling his mouth to hers.

"Yes." she panted. "Just tonight." She whispered against his lips.

A/N2: You cannot convince me that there was no hookup directly before B & B spun to the opposite sides of the Earth. In the context of Hannah, I believe that Brennan did get spooked by Catherine Bryar and that both B & B considered Catherine a consolation prize. This little rationalization helps me deal with the angst of Doctor in the Photo a bit better, as well as the reasoning behind their muted farewell at the airport.

I think Brennan woke up that next morning and shot the heck out of Booth's apartment even more scared than the night at the Hoover, thus facilitating the eventual need to get away from Booth and the emotional gymnastics that her underdeveloped heart couldn't handle.

But of course, this is just MHO.

And yes, I had recently listened to DMB's song when I wrote this.