Ok, I know a few of you have 'Marry Me' on alert (and I'm massively flattered by that)– but I'm really struggling for a place to take it – I'm kind of all about the UST and first kisses so anything after that is a case of writer's block waiting to happen.

Anyway, in the meantime – here's a little snippet set during 'Double Trouble in the Pan Handle'. I apologise for any mistakes, it ain't easy typing with a cat sitting in front of the screen!

I own many things. Bones is not one of them.


He'd never pegged her for a snuggler. She was so ferociously independent that the thought of her subconsciously seeking out someone to cuddle up with was almost laughable. But here she was, nestled into the crook of his neck, her breath ghosting across his collar bone. She was so peaceful when she slept and it was such a drastic contrast from her wired attitude when she was awake. Booth had discovered that he loved the contrast.

Her hands were in front of her, pressing lightly against his undershirt clad stomach. He was half disappointed that she had created this little barrier between them but at the same time glad that she hadn't snuggled too close. He was master of self control but there were some primal urges he could not overcome. He took no comfort in the fact that she would see it as a normal biological reaction, to be explained away with some scientific mumbo jumbo; he would be utterly humiliated regardless if he let his body get the better of him like some horny teenager. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of her hair. He loved the scent of her hair.

She had been amazing in the ring. He had been scared to death of hurting her, and in front of that crowd, who all thought he was her husband, that she was his wife – if his knives had slipped, if one had so much as nicked her skin he would have never forgiven himself. But she had demonstrated such trust, such complete faith in him that he had felt like he couldn't miss. He loved that she had faith in him.

Bones snuggled a little closer and Booth smiled to himself. In some ways he was an old fashioned man. He was all for woman's liberation, equal rights and all that jazz, but there was a feral, prehistoric part of him that loved the fact that this wonderfully intelligent woman, this genius, couldn't fight the basic urge to seek out the arms of her alpha male while she slept. He knew she would have an explanation, she always had an explanation. But Booth knew her too well for her to cover her actions. He knew she would try though. He loved the fact that she'd try.

Booth sighed and let his hands graze against her back, fingers lightly drifting over the area he'd claimed as his. Deep down he knew that it wasn't just a little spot on her back he'd claimed. She was his, all of her and he'd claimed her long ago. On some level he knew she knew it too, Hell, she was a scientist, she knew better than him that he couldn't own her lower back without owning the rest of her – logic told her that much and she was a slave to logic. And yet she hadn't run from, had still let him stake his claim, one day at a time. He loved that she was letting him.

Someday he would tell her what it meant. But not yet.

I know it's a bit of an odd one shot. These little stories seem to take on a life of their own when I start typing. P'raps it's the wine – hic. Reviews would be most lovely.