A/N: Man, am I on a roll today, or what? My third posting. This fiction came about after being stuck at home with my husband one rainy weekend a few months back. I love him dearly, but we sure can get on each other's nerves. Also, I was just tired of people assuming that Booth and Brennan could live together and it be perfect. Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's never perfect.

Thanks to Goldy for beta'ing and for saying "leave it to you to have Booth do guy things". I have a husband, a father and 3 big brothers...I've been around guys my whole life. If I know nothing else, I know how guys act.

Title: Temporary Inconvenience

Rating: K+

Summary: Booth and Brennan share a rainy weekend together. Not how you're thinking.

Disclaimer: I don't own BONES…but can you image if I did?? Plotline is © WolfMyjic 2007

"Bugs." Seeley Booth stood in his apartment at his open door staring at his partner, Temperance Brennan.

He drew his eyebrows together and asked, "What?"

"Bugs," she repeated after a sigh. "My apartment building has been over run with bugs." Booth placed his forearm on the edge of his door, placing his weight against it.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"I need a place to stay for the weekend," Brennan said. "While they spray the place."

"Really?" Booth offered a wide, lazy smile. "I'm sure you and Angela will have a blast." Brennan shifted from one booted foot to the other.

"Angela's apartment is being painted," Brennan informed him. "She's staying with Hodgins."

"So?" Booth asked, knowing where this conversation was going, but he couldn't resist making her ask the question.

"So, I was wondering if I could, um, stay here?"

"Well, I don't know," Booth teased, rubbing at his chin.

"Oh, move over," Brennan said, stepping over the threshold and pushing Booth out the way. His laughter followed her as he closed the door.

"Guest room is down the hall, second door of the left." Brennan nodded and disappeared around the corner. When she came back into the living room, she found Booth standing at the window, hands in the back pockets of his Levi's and his feet spread about.

"The rain sure is coming down," she said, wincing at how lame the statement sounded.

"Yup." Booth turned to face her. "Not suppose to let up until Monday." He moved away from the window, picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and sat down on the couch. "Not that I'm complaining, but why not check into a hotel?"

"You know how many germs are in those places," she pointed out sitting down on the opposite side of the couch, placing her laptop in across the top of her thighs. "Anyhow, I can't concentrate in a hotel room." Brennan opened the top of her computer, and then turned it on.

"Well, concentrate away," Booth said. "Mind if I watch TV?"

"Go ahead," she said, already typing. Minutes ticked by, each lost in their thoughts before Booth yelled and Brennan jumped.

"You idiot," Booth shouted at the TV. "The ball was right there."

Brennan glanced over at her partner, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. "It's a game, Booth. A game on TV, they can't hear you."

"I know that," he answered. "But it makes me feel better." Brennan shook her head, but turned her attention back to her screen, trying to ignore Booth as he continued to yell. "Oh, come on. It was right freaking there."

"Would you please yell a little quieter?" Brennan asked, annoyance clearly written on her face .

"That would defeat the purpose." She gave an aggravated sigh, but tried again to ignore Booth. When finally he settled down watching a movie, Brennan was able to get lost deep in thought. "Do you always do that?"

"What?" Brennan asked, shaking her head slightly, then turning to face him. "Do what?"

"Mumble," Booth clarified. "When you write."

"I do not mumble."

"Yes, you do," he said with a smile. "It's kinda cute, in a very annoying kinda way." Brennan rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. Maybe she did mumble, just a little.

Brennan stretched her arms above her head, arching her back and cracking her spine. She glanced over to Booth's seat and was surprised to see he wasn't there. She leaned forward, placed her laptop on the coffee table and then stood. She looked around the living room and then made her way slowly to the kitchen. Standing in the archway, she watched Booth move from the refrigerator to the counter. He was humming to himself and swaying a little as he went about chopping an onion. "What are you doing?"

"Gawd," Booth said, placing his hands palm down on the counter top, and dropping his head forward. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Bones," he scolded.

"Sorry. So, what are you doing?"

"Making some dinner," he said, starting on the onion again. "You're hungry, right?"

"Maybe a little." Brennan walked all the way into the kitchen and pulled out one of the chairs at the small kitchenette table. "Can I help with anything?"

"I think I have it covered for now," Booth answered, moving the onions pieces from the chopping board to the skillet.

"Do you always hum when you cook?"

"No," Booth told her, turning sideways to look at her. "Normally I sing." Brennan returned his smile.

"Don't let me stop you."

"Naw," he said. "I won't torture you like that." Brennan gave a small laugh, and then folded her hands on the table.

"I was afraid you would have Parker this weekend."

"I have him next week," Booth said. "But you would have been welcomed either way. Parker likes you, you know that."

"I don't know," Brennan reasoned. "He seems a little shy around me."

"He's shy around most people." Booth stirred the onions and dumped in some diced garlic. "But after he spends time with you, Bones, he talks about nothing else for days. You make quite the impression on him."

"Really?"

"Yup. In fact, I think he's going to grow up to be some kind of squint or something."

"I bet his father is thrilled about that," Brennan teased.

Booth picked up a bowl that held sliced chicken, and pour the contents into the skillet. "Actually, it doesn't really bother me. Although, he use to say he wanted to be an FBI agent. But I guess being a squint won't be too bad. He still says he wants to solve crimes. He just wants to use a microscope instead of a gun."

"Maybe you can bring him by one day," Brennan suggested. "Let him ask some questions."

"Why, Bones, are you offering to baby sit one day?"

"Not baby sit. I expect his father to be there at all times." Booth smiled and then went on to finish cooking dinner.

They talked and laughed during supper, and then took turns taking showers. They both retired around eleven, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Booth laid in bed, arms crossed under his head, listening to the rain drum across his bedroom window. His eyes were beginning to drift when Brennan's scream echoed through the apartment. Booth bolted straight up in bed, then threw back his covers, reached for his gun on the nightstand and ran from his room. The light coming from under the bathroom door caught his attention and he hurried to it, pressing his ear to the door. When he didn't hear anything, he called out, "Bones? Bones, are you okay?" He heard mumbling, shuffling of feet and then the door jerked up. "What's wrong?" he asked, after seeing the scowl on her face.

"You could have put the toilet seat down," she threw at him. He starred at her for a moment and then began to laugh. "It's not funny," she said, pushing past him. "Cold water on the butt," she mumbled as she walked toward her bedroom. Booth rubbed the back of his neck, turned off the light and then headed back to his room.

XxXxX

Booth sat at the dinette table watching Brennan tear her bagel into small pieces and eating each portion around her chosen paper section. "Would you stop picking at your food."

"What?" she asked, dropping the paper.

"You're picking at your food. It drives me crazy."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it means you're bored." Brennan folded the paper and put it aside.

"I'm not bored, Booth. And when did it start bothering you?"

"Since you're sitting at my table."

"Well, excuse me," Brennan stated. "Didn't know it was a problem." Booth closed his eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay. I understand."

"Bones…"

"Forget it." Brennan finished her breakfast, put her plate in the sink and then went into the living room. Booth rubbed a hand over his face, and then followed his partner. Brennan was standing at the window, hands in the front pockets of her jeans.

"The rain sure is coming down," he said, repeating her words from yesterday.

"Yeah." Brennan turned from the window, picked up the TV remote and took a seat on the couch--putting her feet up on the coffee table. Booth accepted the peace treaty, and sat down on the couch as well.

"Feet off the coffee table," Booth said, swatting at Brennan's legs.

"Okay, geez." Brennan flipped on the TV, and started to work through the channels. After a few minutes, Booth made a grab for the remote.

"Would you please stop channel surfing? You know, flipping the channel every five seconds."

"Not my fault nothing's on." Booth gave a frustrated growl. He leant forward and stacked the magazine, then spread them neatly on the coffee table. "I didn't know you were such a neat weirdo."

"Neat freak," Booth corrected. "And there's a lot you don't know about me."

"Like someone picking at their food irritates you," Brennan pointed out.

"Right."

"And you don't like people who channel surfs. And you yell at the TV. And you forget to put the toilet seat down."

"Okay, I get it. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who mumbles when they type? And sneaks up on a man when he's chopping onions? If I remember correctly, you're the one who channel surfs, getting on my last nerve."

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea, Booth," Brennan offered.

"It's just a temporary inconvenience, Bones. Nothing we can't get through." They offered each other a smile and then turned to the movie Brennan had settled on.

XxXxX

Saturday morning passed slowly. Once the movie was over, Brennan reached for her laptop after a short discussion about why aliens didn't really exist. Booth simply shook his head and flipped to the news. After catching up on the day's events, and feeling ignored by his partner, he finally stood and made his way into the kitchen. Once there, he poured himself other cup of coffee, and then sat down at the table and pulled out the daily crossword puzzle. Minutes ticked away in the silent apartment, while Booth chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen. "Nostrums," Brennan said from over his shoulder.

Booth jumped slightly, before asking, "What?" Brennan leaned over him and pointed to forty-two across.

"Questionable remedies," she said. "The answer is Nostrums."

"Thanks." Booth quickly filled in the answer and then held the paper back up.

"And that one," she said, pointing to twenty-five down, "is pie in the sky."

"Do you mind?" Booth asked. "It's not polite to read over somebody's shoulder, let alone answer their crossword puzzle without invitation."

"Sorry," Brennan answered, standing up. "Just thought I would help."

"I don't mind your help," he defended. "Just don't steal my thunder."

"I don't know what that means?"

"You know what?" Booth said, tossing the paper to the table and standing. "Just forget it." Brennan watched him leave the kitchen, and then turned back to the table. She took his empty seat and began to fill in the correct answers.

Booth sat in the living room watching a pre-recorded game of golf on ESPN. The rain outside was still falling in a heavy and solid sheet, denying his escape from his partner. It had only been one day and they where at each other's throats. He wasn't sure he could survive until she left Sunday night. Booth didn't take his eyes off the TV when Brennan came back into the room and sat down on the couch. She reached for her laptop and began to type. After a moment, she gave a loud sigh and turned to him. "Do you have to throw that ball in the air?"

"This ball?" Booth asked, tossing it into the air.

"It's the only ball here, isn't it?"

"Then yes. I must toss this ball into the air." Brennan narrowed her eyes at him, but turned back to her computer.

Silence once again filled the apartment except for the TV. Booth yelling out a word pulled Brennan's attention from her work to him then to the TV. Her partner had gotten tired of sports and had switched to a game show of some kind. Booth called the word out again. "Come on, you idiot. Say the word. Say it."

"Actually," Brennan said. "You're saying it wrong." Booth turned to her just as she was pronouncing the same word but with a weird accent.

"Does it really matter, Bones?"

"If you're going to yell it at the television, then you at least need to say it correctly." Booth starred at her for a moment before standing.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, heading toward the door.

"But it's raining."

"Trust me, I don't care."

Sunday dawned with even more rain, pulling a groan from Booth as he rolled over in his bed. He pulled his pillow to his chest, and closed his eyes. Maybe he could sleep most of the day. That plan was going well, when the smell of smoke reached his nose. Booth bolted out of bed and ran for the kitchen. He skidded to a stop, and his eyes grew large. Brennan was standing over the stove, half in tears, fanning at the smoke mumbling something about the smoke detectors. "Bones," he snapped. "What are you doing?"

Brennan didn't turn around as she kept a steady rhythm with her fanning. "Trying to cook breakfast," she answered, her voice weak. Booth gave a sigh, then walked over to her. Reaching around her, he turned off the stove, and removed the pan. Brennan kept her head down as she tried to push passed him.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he asked grabbing her arm.

"Back to bed," she offered.

"What gave you the idea to cook breakfast?"

"I," she started. "I know this weekend has been hard, and I've been getting on your nerves. I just thought I would pay you back."

"By burning breakfast?"

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No, I'm sorry. I haven' been any better then you. I guess we're both use to living by ourselves. It's going to take getting use to having a roommate."

"But we're not roommates," Brennan pointed out, looking up at him.

"You're right, you're just a temporary inconvenience."

"Gee, thanks," Brennan said, with a smile.

"How about this. We cook breakfast together and we make the most of our last day as each other's inconvenience?"

"I think I like that idea."

So?