Disclaimer: I can't disclaim Bones! Sure, I can say I don't write, produce or direct it, but to disclaim it? Disclaim is too strong a word. I'm sorry.

EXHAUSTED

"How much sleep have you gotten all week?' Booth asked in the middle of a yawn.

Brennan looked at him through droopy eyelids. They had been working on the case for an entire month. The serial killer, who had been terrorizing the women of three states, was elusive, seemingly always one step ahead of the police, the FBI, and even the squints. "I don't know. The words on the report are getting blurry."

"Yeah," Booth turned on the couch in Bones' living room, trying to get uncomfortable so he wouldn't drift off to sleep. He tried to concentrate, but the softness and warmth was overwhelming and he closed his eyes.

"Booth!"

"I'm up!" he lifted his head and saw that even though she had just woken him up, her eyes were closing as well.

"Bones!"

"Yes! I'm awake!" she shouted, even as her head hit the cushion.

"This is pointless. We need to sleep or else we won't be any use to ourselves or Washington DC."

"Mmhm," Bones mumbled, getting more comfortable on the loveseat she was in.

"No Bones, you can't sleep there. You'll wake up with a..." a yawn cut his speech, "pain in your neck. You gotta get into bed."

No response. She was out cold. He got up and took her by the arm, lifted her out of the chair and nearly toppled as she dropped her dead weight on him.

"Wow, you smell good," his muddled brain let slip, "Come on, let's get you to bed. "

On any other day, he could bet he could lift her up and put her in bed, but right now he was way too exhausted. It was dragging a sack of potatoes through quicksand trying to get Bones into her room. When he finally reached the bed, he dropped her unceremoniously unto the blanket. Abandoning logic and concentrating only on how comfy the bed looked, he took off his jacket, flopped on it beside her and snuggled under her blanket.

Her clothes were too itchy, too heavy and too uncomfortable to sleep in. She twisted and turned, trying to get comfy, finally grabbing the buttons of her jacket and yanking them open. She flung them aside, not knowing or caring that she hit Booth square in the face with her blouse. Free of her restraints, she wrapped herself in the blanket covering her bed and settled in.

Of course he was dreaming. Only in dreams did he get to sail a pirate ship with Angela as his first mate, reunite with his dead friends from the war, and witness his partner stripping. But it was a good dream, he wasn't complaining. He watched as she pulled button after button, the light from the streetlamp outside bathing her in yellow light. She freed herself of jacket and blouse and skirt and stockings and shoes. He smiled as he drifted off to sleep. He wouldn't mind if that were real.

Her feet were cold. She tried to warm them in the blanket, but pushing her feet around, she found something better. Booth's feet. Rubbing her cold toes on his made them feel much better.

Booth was in dreamland, nice and cosy in his blanket cocoon. That was until he felt something cold on his foot. And the blanket being pulled away. He tugged it back, but a second later it was gone again. The struggle continued until he gave up and moved closer to the direction the blanket was being pulled to. The warmth came back as he snuggled once again under the blanket that was being warmed by Brennan's body heat.

Brennan flipped over on her belly and hugged her pillow. She barely registered the hand that bumped her hip as Booth fought off Red Coats in his sleep. She flung one leg over him to get comfortable. Her mouth was open and drool drained all over her pillow. Pulling the sheet up to her head, she drifted into dreamless sleep.

Booth had one pillow under his head and one in his arms. He twisted and turned as more and more Red Coats descended on his ship. But with the help of Angela and his war buddies he killed every last one of them.

"Arrgh," said Booth as the last Red Coat fell.

The sun peeped through the opening in the blinds, not with the weak light of early daybreak, but with the bright yellow light of midmorning. The partners hadn't risen yet. They didn't even hear their cell phones ring or when the alarm clock on Brennan's side table went off.

Brennan was the first to break through the lull of sleep. She stretched, feeling amazingly rested. Sitting up in bed, she looked down and saw a blanket over her, her skirt over it and herself in her bra alone.

Not remembering how on Earth she had made it to her room, she took up her bedside clock to look at the time.

"Ten-thirty!"

"What?"

"AHHH! Booth?"

She grabbed up the blanket over her chest as he sat up in the bed. His dream had been wiped clean from his memory as soon as his eyes opened. He was shocked to find himself beside an equally shocked Brennan in her bed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

Good question. He put his fingers to his temple, trying to sift through the cobwebs of sleep. Oh. Now he remembered.

"You were sleeping. I tried to get you into bed so you wouldn't wake up with a sore neck. I guess I must have fallen asleep beside you."

"Oh," it seemed plausible, "So why am I not in my clothes?"

"What?"

"I woke up in my underwear. How did that happen?"

His eyes widened, "Hey that was not me. You must have taken then off yourself. I didn't touch you."

The doorbell rang.

"I had better get that," Booth got out of the bed, "You can put on something."

"No. I had better get it. I live here. Could you...?"

"Yeah sure," Booth turned his back so she could walk across the room and get her robe . she went to answer the door.

She flung open the door, only to have the wind knocked out of her when Angela hugged her.

"Bren! Oh, jeez! You scared us all to death when you didn't show up this morning! You should have called if you were going to take a day off. There is a serial killer going around, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Brennan's eyes went down the hallway where Booth was standing.

"We just need to find Booth so that we can all stop worrying. He's missing too and - Booth?"

Angela looked down the hallway at Booth, who stood there like a deer in headlights.

"Hi Angela."

Angela had that something-is going-on-and -I-bet-it's-naughty look on her face. She smile and looked from one to the other.

"Angela, it is not how it looks," said Booth. He might as well have told her they were secret lovers. The look on her face didn't waver.

"So should I just tell everyone you two aren't coming in today? Alright. I'll leave you two to it. Bye."

She went out the door with a big smile plastered on her face.

I have cousins who sleep like this. Some drool, some throw their limbs over you, some play out their dreams, some hog the sheets. When you're over to their house and have to share a bed with them, you have to tolerate them tossing and turning all night. I sleep a little badly too, but they're worse.

You can review the story now. Goodbye.