Shirtless Booth
Booth and Brennan had been at the scene for hours in the sun and heat helping dig bodies out of the field. The FBI had a large truck that was pulling a trailer full of various digging tools, a cooler full of water bottles, and a mountain of leather gloves around the perimeter to help the effort. Stretching aching muscles, Booth and Brennan walked over to inspect a site where there appeared to be three or more sets of remains. The truck was passing and one of the techs walked to the trailer and began tossing water bottles.
"Agent Booth!" The young man called tossing two water bottles toward him. Booth and Brennan turned at the call and one of the ice-cold water bottles hit Brennan squarely in the nose. Blood spurted instantly, splattering Booth's white t-shirt.
"Damn it!" Booth yelled pulling his shirt off and gently holding it to Brennan's nose, tenderly cradling her head with his other hand. All eyes were on the commotion. Slowly, the bleeding subsided and Booth walked Brennan to his SUV. With water from the offending bottle and napkins, they managed to clean her face and his hands.
"Booth, should I get your extra shirt from the bag?" Brennan asked.
"Its a dress shirt, don't bother." Booth said, feeling a little naked.
"At least put some sunscreen on." Brennan's voice was muffled as she was digging headfirst in her cavernous bag. She handed the bottle to Booth and he smoothed sunscreen on his chest and abdomen. (Sorry that's just wrong, let's try this again.)
She handed the bottle to Booth and he filled his hand. He SLOWLY rubbed the sunscreen over each peak and crevice of his perfect pecs. Brennan licked her lips in an involuntary response to the gorgeous specimen before her. Booth then smoothed the white cream over his exposed abdomen. Brennan watched hungrily as each beautiful square of abdominal muscle appeared from under the sunscreen. The men had gone back to work but every woman at the site (and we too) watched as he handed the bottle to Brennan and raised his eyebrow.
Barely able to breathe, she took the bottle from him. She stepped around him and filled her hands with sunscreen. She tossed the bottle back into the SUV and looked up at Booth's back. Booth could hear her sucking and blowing air trying to calm herself. She reached up and began to work the lotion into the skin. She felt each fiber and sinewy movement as she slowly rubbed his shoulders. She felt the large latissimus muscles that cover the ribs and pressed harder feeling the hills and valleys of his ribcage. She traced the spinous processes of his vertebrae. Finally, sadly nearing the end she pressed her hands into the muscles of his lower back moving around to the obliques. His muscles tensed and he jerked reflexively. Brennan's eyes instantly changed from ravenous wolf to merry prankster as she tickled Booth mercilessly. Unable to take it, Booth wiggled free and pulled away to catch his breath. Flushed and laughing, the partners returned to work. All over the field of horror, tools and gloves hung uselessly in frozen hands. The eyes of the female agents and techs never returned to work. They simply stood admiring one exquisite FBI god. (Better)