A/N: Now, neither of the members of Nekkid Booth Inc. are big Giants or Patriots fans. But what a fab game, right? That's what football is made of. And why we decided it was a holiday-worthy event! Submitted for your approval: The Super Bowl Edition. Or: Happy Holidays VI.
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Football, beer, and naked women. Seeley Booth was pretty sure that was the only combination he needed to live. And if he played his cards right, he was also pretty sure he'd have all three by the end of the day. Well. Naked woman. Singular. No need to get crazy. All he really needed was Bones. Sometimes he couldn't believe she was with him – what had he done to deserve such a brilliant, classy, funny, beautiful woman? He knew he loved her and he had for a long time. But he also knew the whole love-forever-and-ever thing freaked her out, so he'd held back on saying anything, even though the words had been on the tip of his tongue half a million times. At Christmas, when he'd seen the tenderness with which she'd treated his son; in the days following the holiday when he'd managed to convince her to either sleep over or he'd stayed with her and woken with her in his arms, all soft and sleepy-eyed; on New Year's Eve at Jack and Angela's when she'd described New York City as her most memorable date, and most especially in the few weeks since, when they'd been working hard on the clock and playing just as hard after hours. Going to dinner and movies, hanging with Parker on the weekends Booth had him… it was getting increasingly difficult not to think long-term.
He'd never been with someone like Bones – a woman who took him at face value, and never expected anything more. It made him want to deliver on a much higher level. But all she really wanted was to spend time with him. Like today: Super Bowl Sunday. He'd asked her what she wanted to do this weekend, and she'd blinked innocently at him and teased that she figured they'd just watch the game he'd been talking so much about. Well. Maybe he had dropped a hint or two.
The doorbell sounded, dragging Booth out of his reverie. He dried his hands off on a kitchen towel and went to let Bones in. He swung open the door and smiled, earning a bright grin back from his girl. "Hi," she grinned, stepping over the threshold.
Booth dropped a light kiss on her lips and tugged gently on her ponytail. "You look great, Babe." Brennan stepped back and did a quick turnaround, showing off her fanatic get-up from the bright white jersey with the number 10 emblazoned across her chest and back, and the name 'Manning' in bright red block letters across her shoulders to the tight faded jeans that caressed her hips, thighs, and that cute little ass just perfectly. "You know the Giants are going to lose, though. I'll have you out of that jersey by the third quarter," he winked. "Jeans too."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Promises, promises." She took a step closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his head down for a deeper kiss. She stroked her tongue boldly over his, then pulled away, striding teasingly into the kitchen, leaving Booth standing in the hall.
"Make that halftime!" he called after her, following her tracks.
"Booth, this all looks great," she complimented, scooping up a bite of nacho cheese with a corn chip. "Mmm, yum," she closed her eyes blissfully.
"First quarter," Booth muttered under his breath.
"What was that, Babe?" Brennan questioned.
"Nothing," he smiled, loading up his own nacho. He loved how easily the term of endearment slipped from her lips. "Where'd you find the jersey?" he asked.
"Ange," she smiled. "Something about team spirit and rooting for the underdog. I told her it didn't really matter who won since my Ravens didn't even make the playoffs."
Booth laughed. "I feel your pain, Bones. But it is pretty cool that we're going to see history made today. The first team since the '72 Dolphins to go undefeated all the way through."
"More like the first team to go all the way undefeated and then lose in the super bowl," Brennan teased.
"Care to make a friendly little wager on that, Doc?" Booth grinned lecherously, his eyes trailing up and down her body.
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Temperance Brennan liked her space. It was still true, she thought, somewhat guiltily. She got space most every day, all day long. She had a pretty wide berth when she worked with her bones in the lab. Apparently, she got plenty of it. Nothing else could explain how, after hours, she happily turned into part of one of those couples that she hated. The kind who acted like their hands had to be permanently affixed to the others' body in some way, shape or form. But to be entirely fair to her, how could she help it when the body of her boyfriend's looked liked Seeley Booth's? Very superficial of you, Tempe, she chastised herself. But true, another, smugger voice replied. Yes, well. Couldn't argue with that.
Giants, Patriots…whatever. The result of today's Super Bowl affected her life very little. But despite her tendency towards perfectionism (which should have her rooting for the Pat's perfect season) and logic (which would predict that they would sweep this game), the typically hidden idealistic part of her hoped desperately for the underdogs to come out on top. This desire was only enhanced by her well-structured partner's suggestion that they make the game a little more interesting by increasing the stakes.
"How is that even a real bet, Booth?" she had asked him incredulously. "What is the loss?"
"I told you. You lose your clothes."
"I'm pretty sure that whatever I do when you are fully naked, and I'm still completely dressed, counts as win for you."
"What does it matter for you, since you are the one who is going to end up jersey-less?"
Now her competitive streak was ignited. "Everything else goes before the jersey does. It only comes off if the Giants lose. Which they won't. And when they win, you get to wear the jersey tomorrow."
He eyed her amusedly. "Well then, Miss Confident. So what do I get when the Pat's win?"
"You already said it," she blinked innocently. "You get me without the jersey." She gave him a wide grin and was pleased when he seemed to not be able to help kissing it off. "Plus," she added, suddenly feeling very lucky, indeed, "You can tell everyone I work with that you were right about something. And I won't contradict you." She knew from his delighted expression that she had got him. Now, all she could do was sit and hope that her tough talk had some basis in reality.
But reality was that any bet she had made with Booth, she very much doubted she could truly lose. The steps they had been taking in their relationship had been becoming increasingly less tentative, as it became more and more apparent that their feet were consistently hitting solid ground. Despite the fact that their picture could have shown up next to the word "opposite" in any dictionary, they were making it work. Maybe that's why she had so much blind faith in the underdogs for this game. If she and Booth could make an honest-to-goodness, bona-fide relationship work despite their differences, surely the Giants could overcome the odds, as well. They had to. She had bet Ange's jersey on it.
So this is how she ended up on his lap, triumphantly looking over her shoulder at him and bouncing happily when the Giants kicked a field goal and won the first 3 points of the game. He glared back at her. "The first quarter means nothing, Bones. So much can happen."
"It can? Like, maybe, you taking off your shirt?"
"For a field goal?"
"You didn't specify that it had to be a touchdown. Now strip." She rolled off of him so that he could better access his shirt.
He grumbled while he slid it up and over his head. "It's not normal, a guy watching the Super Bowl without a shirt on."
"Just think, Booth. There's less of a chance I'll get beer on it when I'm cheering for their next score!" She kept her voice annoyingly and artificially bright to provoke him. It worked, and he pulled her hard back across his lap, trapping her with his strong arms. Rather than struggling, she snuggled happily down and against his now bare chest, running the hand that wasn't holding her beer up and down his arm appreciatively.
"You're an opportunist," he faux-scowled at her, betraying the annoyance by burying his face into her hair and pulling her into him closer.
"Shh. You're missing the action."
"The only action I'm interested in is the kind that happens after I get your bra off."
She attempted to look displeased at his crudeness, but couldn't quite manage it. Truth be told, when she was in his arms like this, it was getting mighty hard not to start screaming at Tom Brady to get his act together so that her partner could get her bra off like he wanted.
It wasn't until the second quarter that that particular wish came true. And that was when she first became privy to the Seeley Booth Shuffle. It happened unexpectedly. One second she was resting comfortably, the next second she was dumped unceremoniously off a whooping Booth's lap and onto the couch, and the next, she was watching him do some sort of odd combination of pelvic thrusts, kicks, and ass wiggles, while chanting "Boo-ya!" at the same time. She gaped at the scene in front of her. The giggles welled up from somewhere deep within her and came bursting out of her mouth in helpless peals. She was pretty sure she never saw something more hilariously horrific in all her life. And he didn't even seem to notice.
"In your face," he declared, turning around and pointing at her. It only made her laugh more uncontrollably.
"Please stop," she gasped. "I can't take it anymore." She couldn't breathe.
"You are going down, Bone lady," he told her, finally flopping back onto the couch and taking a long gulp of his beer, finally seeming to notice the tears streaming from her eyes that she was wiping away. "What?"
"What the hell was that?" she wheezed, trying to bring herself back from her hysterics.
"That was the Seeley Booth Shuffle. And you haven't seen the last of it. I can promise you that," he grinned.
"Oh God. Please, no. Not again. Never again."
"Probably not until after halftime, at least. If that makes you feel better." Pulling her back to him, he kissed her giggles away. "Now. You owe me a bra."
She barely heard Tom Petty as the next half hour was spent with Booth's hands up her shirt.
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He'd have to remember to bet with her more often. Basketball should be getting interesting soon. He grinned as Bones sighed softly in his ear and ground herself against his thigh. "You like that?" he asked, tweaking her nipple gently.
She moaned imperceptibly and he chuckled. "See? It's not so bad when your team's getting their asses handed to them."
"Four points isn't exactly…oh right there… I wouldn't say they're getting…mmm…their asses handed to them," she groaned again as he tried to wiggle a hand down her oh-so-tight jeans.
"You know, you're right, Bones. They should probably start doing a little better before we take this any farther." With that, he removed his hand from her jeans and pulled her shirt back down. "Game's back on," he grinned and settled into the corner of the couch, his arms draped loosely around the sexy woman on his lap.
"You are a horrible human being, Seeley Booth," she chastised playfully.
"Is that why you want me so bad?" he asked.
Bones rolled her eyes. "Something like that."
Booth turned his attention back to the game for the full third quarter, playing armchair quarterback and screaming at the television for every turnover and missed opportunity. Brennan remained mostly silent, save for an occasional "are you fucking kidding me?" Every time she did, Booth found himself marveling again at how crazy he was about her. Brilliant. Sexy. And she liked football. A more perfect woman had never been created.
Fourth quarter was barely underway when said goddess vaulted off his lap and did her own rendition of the Seeley Booth Shuffle. He was finally able to understand how her giggle fit had started. Did he look that ridiculous? "Thatta kid, Tyree!" she shouted, wiggling her butt right in Booth's face. She turned her attention back to him (not that he'd minded her ass in his face one little bit) and grinned. "Suck that in your pipe and blow it, Agent Booth."
He tried. But he just couldn't help the peal of laughter that erupted. Barely able to control himself, he gasped. "First, the phrase is 'stick that in your pipe and smoke it', Dr. Brennan. Second, what in the hell was that?"
"What?" she asked not-very-innocently.
"That… that ass-shaking thing."
"You didn't like it?"
"No, no, I loved it. Anytime your ass is in my immediate range of sight, I'm a happy man, Bones. But what was it?"
"Hmm, let's just call it the Temperance Brennan Boogie. Now I believe you need to lose the jeans."
"You want 'em? Come and get 'em," Booth purposely goaded her. Her normally bright blue eyes darkened considerably and her little pink tongue darted out of her mouth to lick at her bottom lip. At the predatory look in her eye, Booth felt his groin tighten. He laced his hands behind his head and waited for her to make a decision.
She dropped to her knees in front of him and reached up and flicked open the button on his jeans. Pulling the zipper down gently over his distended cock, she glanced up at him with a lusty gaze. Oh, how he loved her. He lifted his hips slightly, silently encouraging her to continue. She hooked her fingers in his pockets and pulled the jeans down his legs and off to puddle on the floor, leaving him clad only in white ankle socks and a pair of black Pittsburgh Steelers boxer shorts. She bent over his lap and blew a hot breath against the fly of his shorts. "Touchdown," she whispered with a siren's smile.
"How attached are you to this game?" Booth husked.
Brennan laughed and snuggled next to him on the couch again. "Pretty attached. Payback's a bitch, Booth," she winked.
Booth grinned, wrapping an arm around her and barely noticing how little he was wearing versus how fully clothed his girlfriend was.
They watched the game in companionable silence for the next several minutes, until third and goal when they were both on the edge of their seats, waiting to see what would happen when Brady tossed toward the endzone. Brennan shrieked when the ball connected with Randy Moss for another Patriots touchdown. "Who the hell left Moss open?" she squealed. Just as she gasped her displeasure with the Giants' defense, Booth began his tried-and-true touchdown dance. "Not again. Please not again," she groaned.
"Moss, you da MAN!" he shouted, pointing at the television screen. He shook his ass and danced around, enjoying the peals of laughter spilling out of his partner's beautiful mouth. He smiled at his own ability to make her giggle so easily, and was so lost in that beautiful sound that he barely caught the words she gasped.
"God, I love you so much," she sighed, shaking her head and swiping at her eyes. He stopped his dancing suddenly, and stared at her, knowing he could not be so lucky as to have heard her correctly.
"What?" he asked.
"Huh?" she replied. "What, what, Booth?"
"What did you just say?" Maybe he hadn't heard her correctly. Maybe he just wanted to hear her say the words so badly that his imagination had created them. Was it really possible to have an aural hallucination?
"When?"
"Just now. When you were laughing at me. Did you say… Bones, did you say you loved me?" he grinned, having talked himself out of his momentary doubt, now certain she'd dropped the L-bomb.
"I, uh, I… did I?" she stammered.
"Do you?" he asked.
"Love you?"
"Yeah."
"Do you love me?" she asked.
"You first," he teased.
"I, well, I, that is…"
"Pretty easy question, Bones. Do you love me?"
She blushed beautifully. He loved how her whole face turned pink from the tips of her ears, all the way down her neck, disappearing into the v-neck of the Manning jersey she wore. Leveling her gaze to his, she swallowed thickly. "Yes," she answered.
"See how easy that was?" he smiled again, still teasing her a little.
"Boooooooth," she whined.
"I love you, Bones." She turned that radiant smile on him again as he sat down beside her and scooped her into his lap. He couldn't help but grin back at her, even though he probably looked like a giant smiling jackass. "So we're in love, huh?" She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"We're in love," she answered softly, closing the distance between their mouths with a wet kiss.
He let himself fall under her spell for a moment, then pulled back. "Don't think this is going to distract me from getting you naked. In fact, I think I might even double my efforts now." She kissed him again, quickly, sweetly, then climbed off his lap to stand before him. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them slowly over her hips and thighs, kicking them off once they got to her ankles. The jersey dropped down almost to her knees and Booth leaned forward to wrap a hand around the back of a silky thigh. He slid his hand up the back of her leg, groaning when he made contact with her the skin left bare by her thong panties. "I'm gonna have to ask you again, Bones. How attached are you to this game?"
She smiled at him and glanced back at the TV. He followed her eyes to the clock and back to him again. "Not very," she smiled, taking his hand and pulling him off the couch to follow her to his bedroom. The woman he loved. Who loved him back. He'd follow her anywhere.
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There was something contagious about Booth's enthusiasm for the game…both the game on the screen, and the one they had made for themselves by coercing each other out of their clothes at every score. The third quarter being scoreless as it was gave her ample opportunity to watch him and the pure maleness of him. She never dated guy's guys. She found them to be too simple and unsophisticated. So why did this guy's guy—the one gulping his beer and screaming at the television screen for his chosen team to "nut up and hustle their pussy asses to the endzone"—seem just too ridiculously perfect to her? Maybe it was his very unpretentiousness that allowed her to feel so easy and free; freeness to, at the beginning of the fourth quarter, do her own maniacal shuffle following her team's fantastic drive and touchdown, and demand that he hand over the pants that were so inconveniencing her. Hell, even if the game ended right that instant, she would be happily entertained all night long by the one-man show that was Seeley Booth.
She had been feeling completely at ease and perfectly comfortable the entire evening. Apparently, too much so. Because that was when it happened. The slip that she would never live down for as long as she remained on the face of this green Earth.
Her belly had started to hurt from laughing too much, so when the Pat's scored their next (and, as she'd later learn, final) touchdown, and Booth leapt from the couch to do that absurd…thing he did that apparently conveyed happiness, she literally felt like she might burst. He was killing her, and all she could do was hold onto her sides and hope to regain control of herself soon. But when she did, she found him staring at her so incredulously that she started to wonder if the out-of-control laughter was a little too much.
"What?" He looked completely shocked.
"Huh?" She was genuinely confused out of her giggles now. "What, what, Booth?"
"What did you just say?"
"When?" Desperately she surveyed her memory. The last thing she remembered doing was begging for him not to make her laugh anymore. After that it was just a giggle fit, driven by amusement and wonder about how someone acting like such a dork could generate so much adoration from her.
"Just now. When you were laughing at me. Did you say…Bones, did you say you loved me?"
Oh, God help her. What did her mouth say when her brain was occupied? The L-word? Did that seriously escape her internal filter? Maybe he was kidding. "I, uh, I… did I?"
"Do you?"
"Love you?" She was just buying time now. Temperance Brennan was not a woman driven by emotion. And now emotion had completely overridden her common sense.
"Yeah."
"Do you love me?" she asked. Good deflection, Tempe.
"You first."
Oh, that son of a…. "I, well, I, that is…"
"Pretty easy question, Bones. Do you love me?" She felt suddenly like she was back in elementary school. Circle yes or no, Tempe. There's no 'maybe' once you are grown-ups. You are either pathetically, helplessly, hopelessly in love with this man. Or you are not. Figure it out.
"Yes," she blurted out, and he just grinned at her, telling her how easy it must have been to say. Easy? It wasn't easy. It was completely unconscious. And she was still hanging out there all by herself, and suddenly she had the horrible fantasy that he was going to tell her 'Thanks,' and turn his attention back to the game.
"I love you, Bones." She nearly passed out in her relief, and was intensely grateful to be back in the safety of his arms. She loved him. She loved him. Temperance Brennan was in love. Circle yes or no. Yes. Yes yes yes. She was safe. He wasn't going to let her lose.
Despite her earlier teasing, the success of either team they were watching now seemed to completely lose importance. Nothing was currently as essential as making the mostly-naked man in front of her even more naked. Even more naked, and much more on top of her.
"So," he said a little too nonchalantly as backed her up against the bed they had somehow stumbled across, hands roaming up her hips to play with the strings of the barely-there panties she had worn just for his benefit. "When tomorrow, I'm telling everybody how right I was about the outcome of the Super Bowl, and you aren't allowed to contradict me, am I also allowed to tell them about the mating dance I performed that was so enchanting, so visually stunning and perfect in every way, that you just couldn't help but declare your undying love for me?"
Pushing herself backwards onto the bed and pulling him along with her by the waistband of his boxers, she sighed. "You aren't ever going to let me forget that, are you?"
"Honestly? Probably not," he grinned, while kneeling over her and nudging her jersey up her stomach with his mouth. "It's just too good of a story." The material caught on the swell of her breasts, where he left it while he traced patterns on the skin of her torso with his tongue. She squirmed in frustration. All of a sudden, it felt like she had waited forever for him.
"I'll tell you what," she propositioned. "You can tell people how much I love you all you want. As long as you are showing me how much you love me. With your mouth."
He paused mid-kiss on her belly, and she felt his slight gasp against her. She smiled triumphantly. She had him. He looked up at her.
"I plan on showing you how much I love you in lots of different ways, Temperance Brennan," he said softly, and her heart nearly stopped. He trailed one finger down the center of her panties before dipping one finger inside and pulling them out of his way. "But if this is how you want me to start, I'm game." Lowering his head, he pressed a slow, gentle, wet kiss against the place he uncovered, and the loudness of her moan surprised her. Why did this feel so different? Why did it feel so new? And with every flick of his tongue, she was reminded why.
One. The sexy cowboy at a costume party who had seemed so familiar, who had touched her and kissed her like she was the last woman on Earth, made her feel more special than any other lover she had ever had, despite having no idea who she was.
Two. The scarred, sensitive soldier who cared so much that it hurt him, who let her comfort him at a graveyard.
Three. The charming, enthusiastic man who dragged her out of bed at 4 in the morning to share an experience with her that he thought would make her happy.
Four. The friend and father who gave her the gift of her family on Christmas.
Five. The boyfriend who couldn't keep his adoration of her under wraps, not even in front of all their friends and later, the whole world.
Six. The one who loved her. Right now. Always. Her fingers clutched at the sheets and her head tossed back while his tongue swirled around and over her clit, lovingly, but demandingly, teasing her until her breath was ragged and her whimpers keening. She was trying to wait for him…wanted to wait for him…
"Come for me, beautiful," he urged her, right before redoubling the speed of his mouth against her.
For the second time that evening, she lost control of her body and mind and heart and the words that came rushing out of her mouth as he pulled her first orgasm from her, drawing his tongue across her softly to draw it out until her cries turned to soft gasps, which turned into heavy breaths. Only then did he pull away from her, crawl up her body and hold her tightly to him. "You are so fucking sexy when you go all crazy like that."
"I didn't say anything crazy this time, did I?" she murmured, half-kidding and half truly concerned. "For all I know I just agreed to marry you." As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them…her and Booth's highly disparate views on marriage wasn't a topic that she felt like broaching post-orgasm.
He studied her for a second with dark eyes….then, thankfully, allowed the mood to stay light. "No. But you did promise me that you'd stay here in bed with me until next football season."
She grinned. "Well that's not crazy. That's just good sense." Rolling on top of him, she prepared to put the first hour of their marathon in bed to good use.
Right before her lips closed on his, she heard him whisper, "Score."
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Booth chose to ignore the semi-serious disdain with which she asked if she'd agreed to marry him, and instead live in the moment of knowing that she loved him as much as he loved her. But just in case, tucked into the back of his brain were the wise words of his mother: all good things in their time. He didn't have time to wax poetic for long, however, for the forensic anthropologist he'd made the brilliant decision in falling for was kissing a trail down his stomach, headed straight for the Steelers emblem printed on his boxers. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Bones. You head there and this is all going to be over before the Patriots pop the champagne."
"You mean the Giants," she reminded him, stopping long enough to suck the skin right above one of the cut lines she'd made visible when she tugged down his shorts.
"Them too," he growled, half-dragging her back up to rest against his chest. Brennan let out a little squeak as he flipped her on her back and kissed her soundly. He pulled back momentarily and whipped the jersey off over her head, leaving her naked before him. Except for the little New York Giants logo in all its blue-and-white glory that sat daintily on the spot right between her belly and her left pelvic bone. A tattoo. Temporary, of course. But still.
"You know what I love about you?" Booth asked, staring pointedly at the symbol. "What's probably my greatest fantasy material?"
"Tell me."
"On the surface you seem like this straight-laced scientist, but under that lab coat you are just full of surprises," Booth mused, punctuating his words with soft touches on her torso.
"Fantasies, huh?"
"Oh yeah. About a million a day. It's a wonder I get anything accomplished with you around, Dr. Brennan."
"I could accuse you of the same."
Booth looked at her incredulously. He knew he was a good looking guy, and he knew she loved him (still made him a little light-headed to think about it, actually) but she fantasized about him? Really… "Like what?" he asked.
Her smile told her she was anticipating the question. She shrugged her bare shoulders, simultaneously making her breasts jiggle and her partner salivate. "Pretty normal stuff. Sex in the Tahoe. Sex in my office. Performing orally on you while you sit in a meeting with Cullen. He can't see me of course because I'm hiding under your desk."
Booth gasped at her casual reference to the deputy director of the FBI. "You're kidding."
"Booth it's perfectly normal for--" the remainder of her words were lost as he silenced her with a kiss.
"You are so fucking hot, Bones. One of these days I'm just going to be a pile of ashes."
She smiled demurely as she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head down for a kiss. He kissed her slowly, running his tongue over hers, stroking his hands over her bare skin. "And again, Booth," she mumbled against his lips. "Join the club."
He grinned, kissing her a little more forcefully, sliding his hand between her thighs to touch her. She sighed again and he was pleased to find how wet admitting her "pretty normal" fantasies had made her. He stroked her almost to orgasm; stopping when she started making the little noises he knew meant she was close. Reaching to the side of the bed, he opened the night stand drawer to dig out a condom, but stopped when he felt her hand snag his wrist. He glanced down at her, a little puzzled.
"I want to feel you," she whispered. "Bare. Against me."
"Are you sure?" he asked. He wasn't going to complain, but he wanted to make absolutely certain.
"Yes. I love you and I… yes."
He slid the drawer closed again and resumed kissing her, loving her, taking her almost instantly back to the edge again. He helped her to tug his boxers off and when he was free of them, he hovered over his love and slid inside her. He braced himself above her, his eyes locked on hers. "Different," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her.
"Amazing," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.
"Keep those beautiful blue eyes open, Temperance. I want to see you." Her eyes fluttered open and she scraped her nails against his back, clenching around him.
"Mmm," she sighed. "Seeley." He kissed her again, pushing as deep as he could. She clutched at his back, her sighs turning to little cries emanating from her throat.
"I love you," he whispered as he felt her tumble over the edge, with him not far behind.
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She was pretty new to this. But Temperance Brennan was pretty sure that she could quickly become used to this love business. Become used to it, and actually be pretty good at it. As long is it always felt so comfortable and good and right as it did this second, with Booth entering her body with not one thing in between them, him whispering words of love and encouragement to her that seemed to somehow tug at her soul at the same time his body ignited her erogenous zones. It felt different, somehow. It felt perfect. The thought that rolled through her at the same time as her orgasm was that she had no doubts that the underdogs would come out on top this time.
As they recovered together, she snuggled into his chest, prompting him to wrap his arms a little tighter around her and kiss the top of her head. "So who do you think won?" she murmured into his chest, her fingertips stroking gently up and down his back. He smiled against her dark tresses before he replied.
"I did."
She smiled in response, but didn't verbalize her thought…You have no idea, Seeley Booth. Not only had he gotten her used to winning. He made her terrified to lose.
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A/N: In our dreams, we have millions of screaming, cheering fans celebrating all our story "victories." Unfortunately, fanfiction has yet to gain the same popularity as football. Nonetheless, all your reviews are so very inspiring. We loooooooove to hear from you!