A/N: I've been lurking for a while now and thought I'd try to write something. Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or its characters. No infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

Seeley Booth collapsed onto his living room sofa and expelled a sigh. It had been a long day. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he leaned forward and rested his elbows in his knees. He grabbed the TV remote and began flipping through channels, willing his mind to stop reflecting on the day's events…

The case had been long and difficult, and both of them were glad to see it finished. Temperance Brennan walked into the Jeffersonian ahead of her partner, her step weary but her mood cheerfully victorious since the case had been solved. Booth smiled to himself as she continued to excitedly rehash the recently completed interrogation that had broken the case.

"I mean, I knew he did it – I proved it, after all – but there's something so vindicating about hearing a suspect admit their crime, don't you think?" She half-turned toward her partner, who was finding it difficult to resist her enthusiasm despite his fatigue.

"Yeah, Bones, we did good." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, knowing exactly what would come next.

"Well, Booth. We did well. Honestly I don't see why you can never seem to get that right." Her words were teasing as she continued to smile.

"Maybe I just like it when you go all Grammar Police on me. I'm gonna get you a uniform and a badge and make it official." His smile was fully fledged now.

"Do grammar police officers get guns?" She asked hopefully.

"Nope, but they do get treated to Thai food at" – he glanced at his watch – "11pm. You up for it?" He rubbed his hands together and wiggled his eyebrows, drawing a chuckle from Brennan.

"Yeah, that sounds great. We can get started on paperwork while we eat. You want to call it in?" Booth nodded assent and began to dial as she walked toward her office. Pausing, she turned back. "You know what? Let's just pick it up and eat at my place. You have to give me a ride anyway, and the paperwork can wait."

Booth closed his phone and held up his hands, an exaggerated look of incredulity on his face. "I'm sorry, I think I must have heard wrong. Did Dr. Temperance Brennan just suggest that work can wait?"

Brennan feigned offense. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Agent Booth. Are you implying that I don't know how to have fun?" She walked toward him slowly, an indignant look on her face.

Booth loved this playful side of her, which he so rarely saw. "Well, Dr. Brennan, all I'm saying is that most women don't spend their Friday evenings solving crimes and doing paperwork. I mean come on, don't you have anywhere better to be than sitting in a lab with a devilishly handsome FBI agent?" His smirk faded at her reaction. What had he said? They had been teasing each other and suddenly she had begun to frown slightly. With a flash of belated insight, he realized his mistake – Robert.

"Bones, I didn't mean-"

"No, Booth, it's OK, you just reminded me that I really should call Robert. I spoke with him this morning and I told him I'd call if the case was resolved. I guess I should just go home." Her smile was apologetic, and Booth felt a stab of sympathy.

"Yeah, of course." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure he'll want to see you. You guys probably haven't had any time to get together this week."

She shook her head, a faraway look gracing her features. "No, I, ah, actually haven't seen him in a while. Things just keep coming up." She smiled softly as she turned back to her partner. "Ready to go?"

"Sure, let's get outta here." He returned her smile and followed her to his car, his hand hovering over the small of her back but never touching her.

It was the fact that he hadn't touched her, that's what was bothering him. Why should he feel like he couldn't touch her? He'd done it thousands of times – hell, it had become part of their routine. But as soon as she'd mentioned Robert, the thought of touching her sent feelings of guilt racing through him.

She'd started dating him a couple of months ago – they'd met at some squint gathering. He was a professor at Georgetown, and Booth had to admit there really wasn't anything wrong with him. Not that there was anything particularly right about him, but at least he didn't show any psychotic tendencies.

Was that when it had started? Was it Robert that made him self-conscious about touching her? No, that couldn't be it. Bones had dated other people and he'd touched her then without any strange guilt complexes. Booth thought back on the last few months, trying to figure out why he was feeling this way. He'd known for a while now that his feelings for his partner went deeper than mere friendship, but it had never affected his daily interaction with her. Hell, she'd kissed him and they could still work together.

She'd kissed him. He remembered the soft touch of her lips and the sweetness of her breath briefly mingling with his. For days afterward he wondered if it had really happened. But they'd gone on as they always had – bickering, laughing, and, yes, flirting. It had been a great Christmas, and the few weeks after were just as nice. They were so comfortable around each other, and there was this feeling of sheer contentment he got just being with her. And touching her. He had to admit, he was a very tactile person. He remembered thinking Bones would never grow accustomed to his habit of invading her personal space. But she had; in fact she had begun to reciprocate recently. And it made him feel good – safe and warm and so many other things.

Until Robert. Now he couldn't even touch her without thinking about him. It felt…wrong somehow, like he was trying to steal her away. But he wasn't; all he wanted was to figure out how to bring back the contentment he'd felt before, but he didn't know how. Luckily his problem wasn't causing a significant change in his behavior; Bones hadn't even noticed anything wrong in the last months. He ran his hands through his hair, causing the unruly strands to stick up in every direction.

With a sigh he flipped off the TV, knowing it was not going to provide enough distraction for his overworked brain. Sleep was his only option, and he headed to his bedroom to seek it out.

Shall I continue? You know what a fledgling fanfic author needs most, don't you? Reviews!