booth and brennan experience a little deja vu. be warned: this angsty oneshot is based on spoiler speculation. you know, those s5 spoilers about that old thing, and the people with the thing. enjoy!

Their first case together went anything but smoothly. He'd questioned her methods, her conclusions, he'd even made disparaging comments about her fancy equipment. And Dr. Temperance Brennan of the prestigious Jeffersonian Institute was not one to be patient with that sort of behavior. So it was with not a little surprise that they found themselves stumbling into her office late one night, tearing at each other's clothes and slamming the door behind them.

Her nails dragging across his skin was setting him on fire, but he managed to find his head. "Temperance, stop."

"What?" she asked in annoyance.

Booth's head shot back a little defensively at the vehemence of her response. "It's just... I'd like to take this a little slower."

"Oh, you need more foreplay to achieve an erection?"

"What?! No! I can manage just fine." Forcing himself to remain focused, he took her shoulders and held her so that their bodies were barely touching. "It's just... I think we should talk about this before we go any further."

"What do you mean?" After a moment, her puzzled expression broke into understanding. "Oh, you want to know the last time I was tested for sexually transmitted infections? I can assure you, I'm quite clear."

"No, that's not what I mean!"

"Then what?" she asked petulantly.

"Starting a relationship with someone I work with is kind of a big deal. I don't want to rush into anything."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Brennan asked. To clarify her point, she forced herself back against his body, molding to his chest and nipping at his neck.

"I don't do one-night-stands, Temperance," he insisted, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the incredible feel of her lips on his skin. "And casual sex with a coworker is even more complicated."

"I don't see why. We both need sexual release, and clearly there is," she sucked his earlobe into her mouth and released it with a wet kiss, "chemistry here."

"Not denying that." He pulled her away again. "Still."

Brennan maintained the distance this time as her eyebrows drew close together. "So you don't believe in my methods, but you want to have sex with me. And not casual sex, but a relationship."

Booth looked a little doubtful but didn't deny it.

"And you decided to get me extremely aroused before mentioning this."

"Yes?" It sounded wrong when she put it that way, but he stood his ground. "We could work well together. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"Work well together?" she asked incredulously. "You thought I was inventing some wild story about the victim from her x-rays!" Brennan pushed away and stalked toward the door. "Well, you won't have to worry about awkwardness. I don't plan to work with you again. The FBI can send over another agent if they want my services."

"Hey!" he called, suddenly annoyed himself. "You'd really do that just because I won't have sex with you?"

"Of course not." She spun to face him with her hands firmly on her hips. "I won't work with you because you are a dim-witted, disrespectful ass with stubbornly archaic mores."

He threw up his hands and called after her. "Fine, Bones, but good luck finding someone else who will take the job."

She turned one last time, eyes in slits at this new moniker. "Don't call me that."

--

But he did.

--

At Jared's wedding, they'd had a good time. They'd danced, they'd laughed, they'd both had a considerable amount of champagne. And by the end of the night, they found themselves outside Booth's hotel room locked in a mess of tangled limbs while Booth fumbled with his key card.

By the time he'd managed to get the door open, Brennan had just undone and yanked off his bow tie. She worked feverishly at the buttons of his shirt.

"Bones, wait," he breathed. When she moved to the fourth, the fifth button, he grabbed her shoulders and said more forcefully, "Bones."

"What?" Brennan replied, looking up at him after having kicked off her heels. Her eyes were smoky in bridesmaid's makeup, her lips slick and red from his kisses.

"We're very drunk," he said.

"Yes. That's what happens when you drink a lot of alcohol."

"I want to make sure that you really want to start this."

She grabbed his ass and pulled him tightly against her, until she could feel his erection clearly against her stomach. "I definitely want this."

"I mean... I can't just have sex with you," he said earnestly. "If we're gonna do this, it can't be something you change your mind about in the morning."

"You want a relationship."

"I want you. I want everything and I want it with you," he replied solemnly.

Brennan let go of him and stepped back, shifting between her bare feet. "Everything. You mean you want to marry me and have children and own property together."

He didn't say anything, but didn't deny it.

She looked at him cooly for a moment. "Your mind is clearly still stuck in that stupid story I wrote. You want your wife and your sleazy polyester bowling shirts back."

"Hey, you wrote that."

She put her hands on her hips. "I sure as hell didn't write a bright blue suit."

Booth waved his hands dismissively. "That's beside the point. This," he gestured between them, "doesn't have anything to do with my coma dream."

"Oh it doesn't? Explain to me then why you've been looking at me with googly eyes since you woke up from that coma. And only since your coma. Why you've said you love me, and then tried to back out of it."

"I do love you, Bones. More than anything."

"More than anything," she replied skeptically. "More than hockey?"

"Yes."

"More than your job?"

"Yes."

"More than Parker?"

Booth didn't respond.

"I don't like hyperbole, Booth. Don't insult me by thinking I need it. But you need to understand this: you love 'Bren'. You're saying all this because you were married to her." She stepped towards him, "But I am not your wife, Booth. I don't want marriage. You've always known that, no matter how many times you've tried to change my mind."

Booth's heart hammered in his throat. "Can you really tell me that you don't have feelings for me?"

"This isn't about me. And it obviously isn't about having a fun night with a good friend as I'd hoped." She bent her head to strap on her heels, successfully masking her reddening eyes. She wiped at them before standing up again. "Goodnight, Booth." She stalked toward the door, wobbling on the shoe whose strap had come loose, needing to escape before she broke down.

"Bones, come back," he pleaded.

Brennan didn't turn around, but her voice betrayed the hurt that tinged her anger. "Don't call me Bones. Not until you really know who I am."

Booth watched the door slam shut behind her, his shirt half unbuttoned, and was struck hard by how far they'd come, and by how far they'd yet to go.