"Bones."

"Booth," she murmured, tilting her head to allow him easier access as he placed wet kisses down her throat.

"Bones."

"Boooth..."

"Bones."

"Mmm, Seeley…"

"Seeley? Christ Bones – wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open and Temperance Brennan shrieked at the dark outline of her partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth looming over her bed.

"Wh – ouch, Bones! It's me!" He cried, slapping one hand over her mouth to stop her screeching and defending himself with the other as she attacked him, eyes deranged.

"Ah go iff oof!" she retorted before sinking her teeth into the tough skin of his palm. He yelped, retrieving his wounded hand and she repeated visciously, "I know it's you," before doling out a few more whacks, slaps and kicks before falling, exhausted, back against her pillow. Her breath came out in uncontrollable gasps, her chest heaved, her heart pounded and her sheets lay askew. "What," she demanded, "are you even doing here?"

"Here?" he repeated innocently. "In your apartment?"

"No!" she snapped earnestly. "Here in my bedroom in the middle of the night."

Even in the darkness, Brennan could see her partner's teasing grin. "It's four am Bones. I'm pretty sure we passed 'the middle' of the night a few hours back."

"Booth!" Brennan groaned, rubbing her eyes crossly, but he just chuckled. Brennan moved to turn on her bedside light and they both realized how close he was sitting as her breasts grazed his knees. When she lay back down, Brennan studied her partner in the soft warm glow of the lamp. His lips quirked in a crooked smile but before she could be bullied into smiling back, Brennan, ever the observant doctor, noticed something.

"Why is your hair wet?"

Booth blinked, surprised and then smiled bashfully. "Alright Bones. So, the reason I'm here is that… Well, remember when you gave Parker and me that key –"

"Parker and I."

"Yeah, remember when you gave us that key to your pool?"

Brennan's eyes widened. "You were swimming? At this hour?!"

His expression became solemn. "I couldn't sleep, Bones."

Instantly, Brennan understood and didn't push the subject any further. They'd just closed a tough case. Sometimes, Booth had murmured assertively as they had watched the convicted man being led away in cuffs earlier that day. Sometimes they get what they deserve. Sometimes they get worse than they deserve. And sometimes… Sometimes they don't get jack shit of what they deserve.

The man had killed a child. She was surprised Booth had decided on doing laps instead of taking his anger out at the shooting range. Although, the fact that it was closed at this hour probably affected that decision greatly.

"So…" Brennan squirmed. "You didn't really say what you're doing in my apartment. How did you even get in?"

Booth smirked at her naivety. "I'm an FBI agent, Bones. You think I don't know where you keep your spare key? I just wanted to take a shower. I wasn't going to wake you, I swear. Just take a quick shower and then leave, totally undetected. But…" Brennan quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know where you keep your spare towels."

Now totally awake, Brennan sat up. Thankfully, she was wearing an over-sized t-shirt to bed and not something less modest. She rubbed her nose, an action that subconsciously registered in Booth's mind as absolutely adorable, and fixed him with a stubborn glare. "What if I woke up and thought you were an axe-murderer out to butcher me in my sleep?"

"I would have been quiet," he answered smugly, whispering to prove his point. "Sniper training helps in that field."

"What if I walked in on you in the shower?" She whispered back, imitating his mocking tone.

"You've done that before."

"That was the bathtub."

"Doesn't make it any different," his voice shifted into a gravelly murmur has he struggled to keep the soft volume. "I was still wearing my birthday suit."

"No…" Brennan corrected earnestly, "You weren't wearing anything."

Booth smiled. "Oh, you noticed, did you?"

For some reason, Brennan found herself blushing. "Of course I noticed," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably. She moved to tie her hair up; realizing she must have had a horrendous case of bed hair, but Booth stopped her.

"Don't," the word escaped his lips before he could stop it. "Leave it down."

Brennan narrowed her eyes. "It's a mess, Booth."

He waggled his eyebrows. "What if I like it messy?"

Her gaze dropped as the innuendo made her face heat up once more. But, she recovered quickly and once again she turned those piercing blue eyes on Booth. "Leave, Booth."

He gaped. "What? But I just –"

"You want me to get you a towel, correct?"

"Yes," he agreed fervently, nodding.

"Well then you're going to have to wait outside."

Booth stared at her incredulously. "Bones, that's ridiculous. I think I am qualified enough to learn the classified whereabouts of Dr Temperance Brennan's towels."

Brennan only looked at him, unimpressed. "I need to put some pants on, Booth."

He almost choked on air. His eyes widened and the hand that had been resting innocently on her lower thigh pulled away as if it burned.

"Right," he squeaked, before mentally cursing himself (Men don't squeak, Booth!) and swallowing hard. Standing in the most nonchalant manner he could manage, Booth announced his departure in his normal, manly voice and left the room.

"I am wearing underwear, Booth!" She called after his retreating figure, wondering why his ears were so pink and wanting to assure him that she wasn't doing anything wrong.

"I know!" he called back hastily, and his voice was a few pitches off. "I mean – I … believe you, Bones?" His voice trailed off and he slammed the door behind him, regretting coming into her apartment in the first place.

Sweet Jesus, it was going to be a strange night.