November's Booth Express Challenge

Theme: Forgiveness

Must Haves of the Month:

-must have at least one of the squints
-must have these words: elbow, pistachio, elements, wandering, psychic

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"I'm sorry, Bones!" Seeley Booth shouted at his partner's retreating back. She didn't stop stomping towards her office. Growling in frustration at his partner's hard hardheadedness, Booth looked around for something to punch. Seeing nothing but Zack, who was up on the platform working, he decided to leave quickly to avoid ACTUALLY punching the squint.

Booth stomped out to his SUV, still mad at her for not understanding. Jamming the key into the ignition and roaring off to the Hoover building, he tried to put her out of his mind for the moment.

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Temperance Brennan sat in her office, arms crossed as she pouted. It wasn't that big of a deal. Booth hadn't needed her at the scene, and therefore didn't call her out. She shouldn't be mad at him for that. Spinning moodily in her swivel chair, she tried to calm down.

Swiveling a little too enthusiastically, she hit her elbow on her desk. Tears sprang to her eyes and started to pour down her cheeks.

"What's wrong with me?! I don't cry!" Brennan moaned out loud, self pity abound. Sniffing, she tried to bend her elbow so that she could see if there was a red mark. Letting out a frustrated grunt when her arm simply wouldn't bend far enough for her to see, she flipped her arm around and looked at over her shoulder. She was still struggling when Hodgins walked into her office, petri dish in hand.

"Dr. Bren... nan..." He trailed off, looking up and staring at his boss who had her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated on trying to see the end of her elbow, cursing in German. "What are you doing?" Brennan stopped mid- curse, and looked up at Hodgins. Quickly slipping her tongue back into her mouth, she cleared her throat and dropped her arm, looking up at him guiltily.

"Anything I can do for you, Hodgins?" She asked.

"You know, it's impossible to lick your own elbow. Seriously, I've tried. Angela put some pistachio ice cream on my elbow once..." He trailed off again at her raised eyebrow. "Sorry. I went through the particulates and found that they contained traces of sandy soil, and lots of human activity. Some of the elements are missing, but I'm 90 sure that this guy was from Vegas." Brennan gulped. The look on her face must have caught Hodgins' eye, because he looked at her curiously. "Something wrong with Vegas?"

"Booth." Brennan said with a sigh, as if that explained it.

"Booth what?"

"Booth is a degenerate gambler. Last time we had a case in Vegas, he was on edge the whole time... I don't think it's good for him to be that close all the gambling." Seeing that Brennan was in her own world, Hodgins slipped quietly out of her office.

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Well, that plan failed miserably.

Booth had tried to get some paper work done, but every time he saw her name on a document, his mind was bombarded with smells, memories, conversations or feelings. It was giving him a headache.

"Dammit, Bones, you're not even here and you annoy the hell out of me." Booth grumbled, his mind wandering way past PG. Shaking his head to rid it of thoughts of whipped cream, he threw down his pen and grabbed his gun. Heading out the door to the shooting range, he huffed moodily, scoffing at his daydreams.

Standing in the his shooting stance, Booth fired round after round into the poor, paper man. His frustration seemed to shoot out of the gun along with the bullet, draining him of all emotion, feeling and strength. His ears perked up when he heard 'Hot Blooded' blaring from his phone. He clicked the safety on his gun and snatched up his phone, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear, barely suppressing a yawn.

"Hey Bones." His voice was sleepy, the shooting having drained him.

"Hey Booth. We got a breakthrough, and a face. Can you come down to the lab?" Brennan asked, sounding worried. Booth immediately picked up on it.

"Yeah... you ok, Bones?" He asked, heading out of the building to his car.

"I'm fine, Booth. Why?"

"I donno, you just sound... apprehensive." On the other end of the line, Brennan rolled her eyes. God, the man is psychic.

"Just get here soon, ok?"

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Booth strolled through the doors to the lab, rubbing a tired hand over his face even though it was only four in the afternoon. Swiping his card, he slumped into Angela's office where everyone was waiting. Brennan was watching him critically, her arms folded. Booth shot her a tired smile, yawning slightly.

"So, what's up, squints?" Booth asked, walking over to stand next to Brennan. Leaning his forearms against the Angelator and his side against Brennan, he ducked his head, letting out a sigh. Looking up, he saw everyone watching him. "Well?"

Angela eyed him curiously before switching on the Angelator, and hitting a few keystrokes. A face appeared, a middle aged woman. As Zack and Jack launched into their explanations and theories, Brennan noticed Booth's eyes glazing over and fluttering closed as he leaned heavily against her. She leaned down so that her lips were next to his ear.

"You ok?" She asked, concerned.

"Huh?" He asked, a little dazed. Before he could object, Brennan reached out and pressed her palm to his forehead. Booth's eyes closed all the way and he let out a little groan, leaning into her hand.

"You have a fever. I don't think you should work this case, traveling to Vegas won't be good if you're sick..." She said, dropping her hand.

"I'm not sick." Booth murmured sleepily, his head drooping onto her shoulder. Wrapping an arm around her Agent to keep him upright, Brennan chuckled, glancing around at the rest of the squints who had stopped what they were doing and were watching them. Smiling, Brennan ran her free hand through Booth's hair, replying soothingly, "I know you're not. I'm going to call Cullen and have you taken off this case anyway, ok?" Booth mumbled a reply into her neck. Digging Booth's phone out of his back pocket, she flipped it open, dialing Cullen. He picked up immediately.

"What do you want, Booth?" The center director asked sharply.

"It's Dr. Brennan, sir. I would like to ask to have you take Booth off this case."

"What did he do?" Cullen asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"He didn't do anything, he's sick. I think it's the flu." Brennan explained.

"Why did you call me? I'm sure Agent Booth is capable of calling in his own sick leave request." Cullen asked, confused.

"Well..." Brennan started, glancing down at the snoozing man against her side. "He's asleep, and he wouldn't admit it even if he was awake and lucid." Cullen sighed.

"Alright. Will your squints still work the case? I think I can afford to send over another agent for one case."

"We'll work it. Thank you sir." Brennan replied. Hanging up and tucking his phone into her own back pocket, Brennan shifted Booth in her arms, amazed that he had stayed somewhat standing throughout the whole conversation. Looking up at the rest of the team, she asked somewhat desperately,

"Can you help me get him out to my car?" Angela had an ear to ear grin as she nodded, but both Jack and Zack looked kind of stunned as they agreed.

"How?" Jack asked.

"Stretcher." Zack said quickly. Everyone looked at him. "With a stretcher."

"Well, genius, where are we gonna get a stretcher?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"Supply closet." Zack started off, returning five minutes later with a stretcher. The boys helped Brennan haul Booth onto it. They wheeled him out of Angela's office and out to Brennan's car, ignoring the strange looks from their co-workers. Sure, they were used to a dead body. But the body of someone everyone knew? There was lots of rubbernecking going on.

The squints reached Brennan's car, and all stared. The same thought ran through all of their minds. How the hell were they going to get him into her small sports car? Brennan voiced a suggestion.

"I can take the SUV, if that's easier." Everyone nodded, and moved to the SUV that was parked right next to Brennan's car.

"Hun, you kind of need a key..." Angela pointed out. Brennan nodded and pulled out her key ring. Unlocking his car, Brennan opened the passengers side door. Angela's mouth was hanging open. "You have a key to his car?"

"He was tired of me always asking for his keys to get my cell phone out of his car, so he gave me a key. It's not like he lets me drive or anything."

Once Booth was seated and buckled in, Brennan got in the driver's side, and started up the car. Waving to the rest of the squints, she pulled out of the parking lot.

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Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the parking lot of Booth's apartment building, Brennan trying to figure out how to wake him up, and Booth sleeping against her shoulder again. Lazily running her fingers through his mused hair, Brennan sighed contentedly when she felt him snuggle closer to her. Chuckling, she returned to the problem at hand.

"Booth." She said, shaking him slightly. He just tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her almost all the way into his lap. "Booth! Wake up!" Laughing as his breath tickled her neck, Brennan did the only thing she could think of to wake him up.

She leaned down and kissed him square in the mouth.

Groaning into her mouth, Booth's eyes fluttered open. They widened in shock when he realized that Brennan was (quite enthusiastically) kissing him. He woke up after a few seconds and kissed her back. Breaking apart for air, Booth rested his forehead against Brennan's. She was panting and clinging to him from her position in his lap.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked weakly.

"For what?" Brennan asked, confused.

"For not taking you out to get the body on the grid. The Knight guy."

"I guess so." Booth smiled and kissed her again. "But I'll have to kick your ass if I get sick now."