Spoilers/Timeline: Slight reference to 4x14 The Princess and the Pear; Set in future, Booth and Brennan are in an established relationship.

A/N: Thanks to beatricks for joking/daring me to write a fic that included a certain line (go ahead, try and guess which it is). Also to Jess (CupcakeBean) for giving me feedback on the beginning and Jamie (SSJL) for beta-ing. You all rock!

Disclaimer: Sadly, Bones does not belong to me. Title taken from Keith Urban's You're My Better Half.


He leaned against the headboard, groaning as the muscles in his lower back tensed. He tried to relax on their usually heavenly mattress, but the pain was too much. It coursed through him: running up and down his spine. He took a shuddering breath and shut his eyes forcefully. Bones was right; he shouldn't have been pushing himself so hard lately.

He moved to push the sheets down, but froze as another spasm moved across his back. Next to him, she shook her head and turned the page of her book.

"I told you to slow down."

"You did."

"But you," she glanced at him before returning to her reading, "you had to prove that you're a strong, virile male. One the rest the agents should look up to."

"Well, what can I say? I'm not an underachiever."

"There's a difference between underachieving and knowing your limit, Booth. You're not the youngest agent in the office anymore."

He sat up suddenly, wincing as he turned towards her. "That's... you...."

"It's true, is what it is." The corner of her mouth tipped up as she noted his furrowed brows, jaw dropped in disbelief. "It doesn't mean you're not in shape anymore, but you have limits now you didn't have five years ago."

"Untrue." He fell back against the bed, crossing his arms. The pain continued to radiate through him and he moved to try find some comfort on the bed. He sighed; nothing was working. It felt like someone had replaced his pillow with a brick. A brick covered in little metal spikes. "This is unbearable."

He began moving slowly on the bed, grimacing every time he attempted to lie still. She ignored him even has his foot kicked her leg and he began complaining louder. Just when it seemed he'd finally found a comfortable position (completely flat on his back, knees raised, hands locked behind his head), a muscle twitched and he let a cry of pain so loud that she didn't even contemplate moving to pick up the book she'd just dropped.

"This is the worse than the time I was laid up for a week." He bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling. "I can't think of anything but the pa-"

"Oh, I think you can." She scooted across the bed, her hands lightly running up and down his arms. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

He gulped as her hands moved down his chest, slipped under the waistband of his pants, and slowly slid them off. All the while she watched - the way his eyes drank her in, followed her every movement; he didn't grimace once.

"You may be," he reached out quickly and grabbed the hem of her nightie, tugging it over her head and tossing it to the floor, "right about that, Bones."

"Mmm," she flung her leg across his hips, leaning back against his legs, "I usually am."

He laughed, that low, throaty laugh that always set her on edge, and tugged her forward, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. His hands wound through her hair as their tongues dueled: warring one minute, wrapping around each other in a soft caress the next.

She pulled away, hovering over him before sweeping her lips across his and lowering herself onto him. He groaned and cupped her breasts as she began to move, lightly rocking forward and back.

"Oh god." Her hands pressed hard into his chest as she arched into his touch. His thumbs brushed across her nipples in time with her rhythm and she gasped as the sensation increased the heat at her core even more. "How can it be so...."

"Un-fucking-believeable." His head fell back against the pillow as she increased the pace, her hair cascading across her shoulders, sticking to her neck, as their bodies moved against one another.

She gasped. "Yes, that."

"Mmm." His hands fell to her hips as he began thrusting up to meet her. "Don't know. It..." He turned, kissing the inside of her wrist, "....just...." her shoulder, "is." and, finally, her lips. He moaned into her mouth as she tilted forward, pressing him hard into the mattress and changing their angle so completely he felt like he was going to combust.

Her breathing was becoming shallow, checks flushing as their rhythm became frantic. "Come on, Booth, I'm almost there."

"Oh god," her hands clawed at his back, "hurts soooo good, baby." He began thrusting even harder, driving himself even deeper... "Hurts so damn good."

"Yes, just like... yes, yes, yessss." Her head flew back as she pulsed around him, her moans driving him closer to the edge as she slowly continued to move above him. Her chest pressed against his, voice low in his ear, "Oh, yes."

It was all he needed: the look of complete satisfaction as her forehead fell against his. He rocked into her once more and came, cursing and groaning as the heat overtook him.

She swept her lips across his and fell to the bed next to him. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, as pleasure continued to wash over him and his breathing evened. His hand came to rest on her hip, drawing slow circles and she sighed, resting her head on his chest, listening to the thudding of his heart.

"Better?" Her hands began kneading his back, slow light touches that had him stirring again already.

"Yes, I welcome your distractions anytime." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and let his legs tangle with hers; any thoughts of pain long forgotten.