A/N – First fic. If you would be so kind as to tell me if I should keep going, I would greatly appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or any of the characters, I simply create my own storylines.

Chapter One: Realization

The clicking stopped. Booth glanced up from the file he was holding. False alarm. She was still staring at the computer screen, apparently only stuck on something. Bones had been working on her book for the last two hours, and that was just counting the time he had been there. He assumed she was working on it long before he showed up. He wondered where she got the energy. She really was an amazing woman; beautiful, intelligent, determined, and totally dedicated to everything she did.

"Could you stop staring at me every time I stop typing? It's very distracting."

He jumped a little as her voice broke the silence that had settled comfortably around them. He hadn't realized he was staring at her while lost in his thoughts. "Sorry, Bones, but I'm starving. I mean it's already," he looked at his phone; "eight o'clock and I haven't eaten anything since lunch!"

"I'm quite aware of that," she replied coolly, "since you have reminded me of the fact five times already. I told you, you don't have to wait for me. I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way to the diner."

"Yeah, but that's just it Bones, even if you are 'capable of finding your own way,' I know you won't. You'll probably just sit there at your desk" – he mimicked her typing – "hackin' away on your computer until you're so tired that you trudge over and fall asleep on the couch. That's assuming you make it over here; you might just pass out on the keyboard. Either way, you spend the night in your office, dinnerless."

She just looked at him, her mouth twisting that way it does when she's thinking something over. It didn't take her long. "Dinnerless is not a word," she stated.

Whether she believed that or not, Booth was relieved to see her shutting the computer down. "Oh sure it is, Bones," he said, standing up and switching off the lamp on the end table, "there's also breakfastless, something else you would have been if I'd left you here. So, let's get going."

She rolled her eyes as she gathered her paperwork into her bag. He opened her closet, choosing her long black coat over her green one, and replacing it with her lab coat that had been draped over the arm of the couch. Turning, he held her coat out to her and she stepped into it wordlessly, as if she was expecting it.

"What, no arguments against my alpha-male tendencies?" he asked teasingly.

She said nothing, just reached for her bag.

"Here, let me get that," he said, a little put off by her silence.

When she again said nothing, just turned to head for the door, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Aww, come on Bones! What's with the silent treatment? What did I do now?"

She turned on him, but her big blue eyes weren't angry, like he thought they would be, they were filled with simple determination, as if she was about to explain the process of nuclear fusion to a four year old. "You showed your dominance by distracting me from my work until I agreed to leave with you. It's only logical to assume that after an initial victory you would continue to assert yourself, which you did by telling me it was time to go and even choosing what I will wear. Combining that with the knowledge that an alpha-male thinks a woman is incapable of carrying her own things, or getting anywhere on her own, I remained silent because I am simply too tired to argue with you!" And with that she turned back around and strode through the door, leaving him standing, bag in hand.

He stood there, pondering her sudden defensiveness, thinking back over his every action and her every reaction. Suddenly realization hit and a smile came to his lips. He rushed to catch up with her, finally reaching her as she descended the front steps.

"You know, Bones," he said, putting his hand on the small off her back and growing surer of himself at yet another lack of protest, "you're not so good at acting, even when you're playing yourself."

"I don't know what that means," she said, using her trademark to sound nonchalant, but the falter in her voice gave her away.

"You know what I think?" he asked as they reached his SUV, "I think you're never too tired to argue. Your little display up there about your lack of objection to my helping you out proves that. So you know why I think you did it?" he asked again, opening the door for her and waiting for her to climb in. She stood her ground. He leaned closer to her, resting his weight on the door. "I think you're starting to like my tendencies."

She scoffed, but a blush had started creeping up her cheeks. She inwardly cursed the bright lot light that she herself had petitioned for a month before.

He continued in her silence, "I think you didn't argue with me about what I did because you expected me to do it. You didn't say anything because you liked it."

And for the fourth time that night, she put up no argument. She simply took his offered hand and climbed into the seat of the SUV, trying to keep a look of indignation on her now rosy face. She watched him chuckle to himself as he made his way around the front of the truck to the driver's side door. Damn. She had enjoyed his subtle chivalry, and the realization of that in her office had knocked her silent. She, the independent and competent Dr. Temperance Brennan, had grown accustomed to, and even fond of her partner's alpha-male tendencies, and he knew it. Damn.