Author's Note: I know I should've been writing Rules...or Cadgins. But this idea attacked me and wouldn't let me go. Therefore, I offer to you some angstyangst. Also, the idea came from the song Anyone Night Stand by The Sleeping.

Thanks to Angiebc and brainysmrf. Love you all.

The smoky bar was nothing special. Speakers blared something akin to rock, though the only thing heard was the strong bass beat. Bodies were packed in close together. Women in too short dresses grinded against men with roaming hands.

Booth's stomach churned and he self-medicated by downing the rest of his scotch. The bartender immediately set down another glass, which he cradled gratefully. Too exhausted to care, he didn't scan the bar for possible danger, as he usually did. He didn't even have is gun on him. In fact, he looked like a regular guy for once: jeans and a dark t-shirt. Perfectly normal.

Instead, he let the feel of the bar surround him as he stared blankly into the crowd. Booth was drunk, that much he knew. Not enough to inhibit any real motor skills, but enough to seriously consider taking a stranger home. Plenty of women had offered already, though none had particularly drawn him in. Too blatant for his taste.

Booth was man who liked the subtleties in women. Rebecca had been kind. Her exterior was tough and spunky. But inside, Becca was soft. Hannah had been intelligent. But she never flaunted it, never shoved it in someone's face. She may not have even known. Her subtle intelligence had gotten him hot. Even at the end, when they had parted amicably, Hannah's insights, her smarts…they got him.

And Bones…Bones had no idea how sexy she could be. In anything from jeans to a party dress, her elusive beauty had punched him in the gut more times than he cared to admit. And it still did, every time he saw her.

"Last call," the bartender said, flickering the lights just as he saw a flash of green in the mass of people dancing a few feet away. In all the black and red, a green dress skimming the tops of impossibly long legs stood out. Booth downed the last of his drink and placed his money on the table.

He headed towards the crowd, towards the woman with high heels, long legs, and…oh, God, a backless green dress. Tapping another man on the shoulder and giving him a look that said, "back off", Booth slid up behind the woman, pressing himself into her.

"Wanna dance?" he whispered lowly in her ear.

She turned around to face him, and Booth's throat nearly closed as he realized who he was holding. She smiled, "I'm Temperance."

"Seeley," he managed to choke out as she wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her middle against his.

Temperance looked up into his eyes. There was an unspoken agreement, and she grabbed his hand, heading for the door.

Booth felt half-nauseous following her out of the bar. She shouldn't have been there. She shouldn't be wearing that sinful dress. He shouldn't be leaving with her. He looked down to see that she was climbing into a cab. He hadn't noticed…

"Seeley?"

Booth would hate himself for it later, but he climbed in after her. He knew this was a bad idea, but damned if he was going to let her slip away in the back of a cab again.

The ride to his apartment was long and awkward, as if they really were two people who barely knew each other.

He entered his apartment and ushered her inside.

"A drink?" he asked. Even if she didn't want anything, he needed something that burned its way down.

"Sure."

"Scotch or Tequila?" he opened the cabinet and held both bottles up.

Something in her eyes softened and he almost scoffed at the irony as she chose tequila. He sat down, pouring two shots. They downed them quickly.

"Who is she?" Temperance asked, placing the shotglass back on the table.

"Who?" Booth asked, perplexed

"The girl you're running from," she explained calmly, although he could tell she was nervous.

Flashing his most charming smile, he countered, "Who says I'm running from anyone?"

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who just…brings a stranger home," she shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable, but trying to cover it up by moving closer to him. She laid a hand on his leg. "So, who is she?"

"You don't know her," He lied. The longer the night went on, however, the more it seemed to be true.

"Did you love her?"

"I do."

"The apartment was quiet as all that was left unspoken floated in the air between them.

"Well then," she poured two more shots, then raised hers in a toast. "To forgetting."

He raised his glass to hers and their eyes connected. He already felt guilty. The woman in front of him didn't look like "his Bones". She looked sad…lost, even. His look must have softened, because something entered her eyes. A challenge. Temperance Brennan was challenging Seeley Booth. And Seeley Booth never walked away from a challenge.

He knocked the shots out of their hands and let the golden liquid filled glass fall to the carpet. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her to him. Somewhere in the back of his head, he started to feel a bit guilty. And then their lips touched. Mouths opened. Tongues battled for control. And all guilt was thrown onto the floor with the forgotten drinks.

Their kisses became more and more urgent. He kissed her hard, then moved down to run his tongue along her neck. His lips found the spot just below her jawline, and her breath hitched.

Each kiss drew him in further, and everything about her surrounded him. Her scent, the softness of her skin, her throaty moans. He hated himself for doing this. He knew that he should stop right there, back off and talk to her. But he also knew that he couldn't.

Temperance leaned back on the couch and pulled booth on top of her. Her legs spread open naturally and he fell perfectly between them. Their hips fit together perfectly and Booth had to suppress the shudder that rolled through him. Continuing his trail of kisses around her neck and chest, he nearly lost it when her hips bucked and rocked against his.

"Temperance," he ground out. Despite the situation, he wanted this to last. He didn't want to rush.

"What are you waiting for?" she murmured in his ear, running her nails across the back of his neck.

Unable to stop himself, his hands found the hem of her dress and pulled up. She leaned up enough to help him get her dress off before she fell back on the couch. Booth almost stopped everything.

Below him was Temperance…his Bones, naked and flushed. Her hair spread out around her head. Her nipples pearled under his gaze. She hadn't been wearing anything under the dress. His gut clenched. He shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be doing this…But when she reached for his cocky belt buckle with a smile on her face, there was no hope of stopping.

They both needed this.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I'm drunk…hazy. I—" he tried to explain a couple hours later.

"You didn't want to go home alone. I know the feeling," She pardoned him, putting her clothes back on. Once Booth's pants were off, they'd come together quickly.

Years of foreplay as partners, and minutes of foreplay as strangers had them coming fast and hard. But as he'd stood to go clean himself up, she'd also stood, grabbing his hand and leading him to bed room.

Now, as they were awkwardly approaching the morning after, he looked in her eyes and saw the cool, calculated "Dr. Brennan" return. "It was nice meeting you, Temperance," He said, anger and sarcasm apparent in his voice.

"Booth," she murmured over her shoulder as she reached the doorway. "We both got what we wanted."

The door closed behind her, and he grabbed the bottle of tequila from the coffee table and threw it to the wall. As the glass smashed, and the bronze liquid splashed everywhere, he couldn't help but think that, maybe, it was true.