A/N I'm pretty sure I said my last Bones story would, in fact, be my last. But I have two random one-shots, so I thought I'd make the most of them! This is another of my series of F-OFFs (future one-shot fan fics), not really related to each other, but kind of carrying on. And I've had this one FOREVER! I just had nowhere to put it within a story, but it was too short for its own story. So it goes into its own little category. But hey, now it even works in terms of the show's new story arc! I've never been so timely before! Also, I feel I should warn you, it seems like it may be going in an explicit direction, but I can assure you it isn't. So if that's not your thing, just keep reading, I don't write smut! I sincerely hope you enjoy it!
Temperance had never had a particularly reliable poker face, and this was something Booth learnt early on in their partnership. He could always tell exactly what she was thinking – if she was upset or angry – and, without fail, he could tell when she was up to something. He likened it to that quiet feeling before a storm hit, and as he dressed in their bedroom with his back to her, he could feel it right now.
Booth looked up from his shirt buttons and over at his wife, unable to hold back a smirk. She was lying on her side, supposedly reading Angela's well-thumbed copy of 'What to Expect When You're Expecting', but he had noticed that every so often her eyes would dart up from the page, and he'd find her watching him.
"Stop that," he said suddenly, and she jumped a little.
"Stop what?"
"Staring at me. The last time I caught you staring at me like that, that happened," he replied, pointing to her barely visible bump.
She snorted, looking at him incredulously. "I wasn't staring!"
"You're a terrible liar."
She pretended to be annoyed at him, but her smile gave her away. "I can't seem to win – I'm not allowed to stare at you, I'm not allowed to stare at other men… Although somehow I don't think you'd mind if I started staring at women, am I right?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "You're also a terrible comedian."
"And there I was, thinking you married me for my sense of humour!" She allowed him to go back to getting dressed, still watching him from the corner of her eye. "You know I was joking when I said about staring at other men, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Try not to sound quite so confident, Seeley!"
"Why would you go out for a burger when you've got a steak at home?" He replied simply, looking at her through the mirror on the wardrobe door as he adjusted his tie.
She laughed and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm a vegetarian."
"Very funny…" He walked over to the bed, took the book from her hands and rolled her onto her back, straddling her hips.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing…" he replied with a sly smile, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. Then, with no warning, he pulled her shirt – which had actually started out as one of his shirts – up over her eyes so she couldn't see. She instinctively tried to wriggle out of his grasp, suddenly ticklish, but he held her tighter. "Hold still!"
"Should I be worried?" she asked with a laugh, her voice muffled by the cotton covering her face.
"Just trust me."
She felt something cold and wet moving on her stomach, and the harsh smell of permanent marker tickled her nose. She knew her husband had some perversions, but this was definitely a new one for her.
"Done!" he said triumphantly, and pulled her shirt back down for her.
"You better not have done what I think you have!" She looked down at her stomach to see that he had written 'Property of Seeley Booth' in black ink below her belly-button. She scowled at him, but he simply gave her a satisfied smile and got up to finish getting ready. "I ought to divorce you…" she muttered as he strolled into the bathroom.
"But you won't!" he called back, his voice muffled by his toothbrush.
"Just wait!" She licked her thumb and tried to rub the ink off her skin, but it wouldn't even smudge. Surely this couldn't be good for her skin. And how would she ever explain this to her doctor when they went to their first appointment that afternoon. "I can't believe you branded me! And I resent being called your property, you know – I don't belong to you, and you don't belong to me."
"Of course not, dear…" He bent down to place a kiss to her forehead, then another to her stomach. "How could I think something like that?"
