AN: First and foremost, I realized that saying it was Brennan's 30th birthday made her really young to be as renowned and acclaimed as she is. I know she mentioned sifting through remains in Waco back in the first season, but I still am a bit fuzzy on what her age technically is in the show. So instead of looking it up like any respectable writer may do, I decided to be lazy and just go with thirty three, because that seemed like a pretty safe bet. Old enough to be highly respected in her field, yet young enough to suit her appearance…And let herself go nuts for a night. And on that note…I know this story is absolutely ridiculous. It teeters perilously in and out of the realm of incredibly out of character, but hopefully I'm staying at least somewhat true to form (liberally speaking, of course) despite the ridiculous circumstances. These two are just adorable, and I think it's all kinds of fun to see them be flirty and silly and cute with no drama or angst holding them back. I'm having a blast writing it, so hopefully you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing! A special thanks to those of you who left reviews; I've definitely got a few chapters I want to churn out with this, and if you guys are particularly enjoying it, maybe more!
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2.
"Ah, so you found him." As Brennan led Booth through the crowded dance floor, they were stopped by the familiar sound of Angela's voice and the sight of her sneaky smile. "It took her long enough. All she's been saying for the past hour is, 'where's my Booth?'"
Her Booth? Booth thought to himself with a smirk. Angela glanced sideways at him, her grin growing wider. Quickly, Booth wiped the smug expression from his face and coughed uncomfortably.
"Ya don't say," he replied hastily, scratching the back of his head.
"Don't listen to her, Booth," Brennan commented, placing her hand on his chest. "She's just saying that because she wants to imply that there's more between us than our partnership. She's trying to make you squirm so that you'll finally make a move."
"And on that note," Angela piped up, now laughing, "I'll let you two lovebirds have at it. Jack and I are heading out, but Brennan—" her demeanor suddenly changed from playful to serious, "you promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight?"
Brennan threw her head back and laughed. "Me? Do something stupid? Angela, clearly you underestimate my intelligence."
Angela glared warningly at her. "And clearly you underestimate your blood alcohol level." She knew why Brennan had thrown herself so enthusiastically into her "celebration," and she didn't want her friend to do anything she'd end up regretting. Or worst of all, something that would put herself in danger. Of course, were Brennan in a more stable state of mind, it wouldn't even need to be said, but Angela had never seen her like this before, and while it was fun at first, as the night wore on, she started to grow increasingly concerned. Turning back to Booth, her expression still serious. "You'll get our birthday girl back to her place in one piece?"
"Of course," Booth didn't skip a beat, his voice now serious as well. Before he had a chance to inquire about what had happened to prompt such a dramatic change of tone, Angela had her trademark grin back on and all hints of concern were expertly hidden by her unique charm.
"Always a gentleman, aren't we, Seeley?" She poked Booth in the side with her elbow, suggestively raising her eyebrows before shooting Brennan an overt wink. "Now you two kids be good."
Just as her best friend made her way through the crowd and out of sight, Brennan found an empty spot on the dance floor.
"I think Angela thinks that we're going to have sex tonight." Booth nearly tripped over his feet and chocked on his tongue at the words that came out of Brennan's mouth. Clearly, drunkenness was not indicative of tact; although tact never was her strong suit.
"Wha—You—Me—What?!"
"Oh relax, won't you? You can't tell me you weren't thinking about it anyway. I mean, you are a sexually active male, and it's a biological fact that in situations such as this, the mind tends to automatically gravitate towards thoughts of—"
"Alright, you know what? How about we just stick to the dancing and save this…discussion…for another time?"
"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?"
"What? No! No, of course not. I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just thinking that maybe talking about—"
"You're rambling. And jittery. And keep running your hand through your hair nervously. I definitely made you uncomfortable. It's okay though!" She exclaimed, jumping as she raised her arms above her head in triumph. "You know why?"
"Um, why?"
"Because we," she stumbled forward, extending her arms out towards him. Placing her hands on his forearms, she pulled him closer. His eyes softened and a gentle smile played on his lips. "As in you and me," as the distance between them closed, Brennan placed her arms on his shoulders, "are dancing."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Booth smiled teasingly. "I can honestly say I've never seen this side of you before, Bones." The music seemed to be getting louder, and Brennan just laughed.
"And?"
"And what?"
"And what do you think of Temperance Brennan, version 2.0?"
He had a witty comeback ready to deliver – something about how no volume of alcohol would be enough to hide her inner squint, which wasn't a bad thing because secretly, that's what he loved most about her – but the words were lost on him as his hand rested firmly on her hips and her crystal blue eyes sparkled with laughter. "I don't know," he grinned, staring at her in appraisal. It was strange to think that this young, vibrant, carefree woman before him was the same Doctor Temperance Brennan that drove him crazy on a daily basis. Yet, at the same time, it was strangely comforting, and undeniably adorable. Knowing full well that whatever he said tonight would most likely be forgotten come Monday, Booth went with his gut and let the mischievous glint in her eye beckon the flirtingly playful side of him he had spent the last three years working hard to repress. "It's really cute," he said finally with a charming half-smile.
"Hey, I'm not cute," she called out, resting her hands on her hips and tilting her head to the side with that mystical smile that Booth always found so captivating. "I'm a highly-respected, tough as nails, crime frighting forensic anthropologist."
"Crime frighting, eh?"
"Yes."
Booth shook his head with another laugh before pulling her hips flush against his. "Whatever you say, you are the expert after all."
"With a doctorate." She poked a warning finger in her face, laughing like a giddy little girl. "That means you have to listen to what I say!"
"Like you'd ever let me forget that."
"Is that jealousy I sense?"
"Whoa whoa whoa. Clearly you've got me all wrong, Bones. Which only further proves why I am the one who reads people, and you are the one who reads, well, bones."
"Well then, if you still think that, then you clearly underestimate my abilities, Special Agent Booth." She threw her head back slightly as she accented his title with an exaggerated eye roll. "I've picked up a lot more from you in the past few years then you realize."
"Oh yeah?"
"Chyeah! And you wanna know a secret? I'm not as clueless as everyone likes to believe." She leaned her head closer towards his, her expression mischievous yet resolute.
"Really?" His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side with a sly grin, curious as to where this conversation would go. As if on their own volition, his hands tightened against her waist and he bit his lower lip.
"Really." The smell of alcohol was thick on her breath as she brought her face within inches of his. "I may not be able to read suspects as well as you – at least not yet – but I can read you pretty well."
"Me?" He teased, his eyes glued to hers.
"Yeah, you!" She smiled, letting her forehead rest against his. Her skin was warm and he blinked lazily as his hands slowly traveled up her sides.
"And?"
"And what?" She asked, with a laugh, repeating his earlier question.
"And whaddya see?" He dragged his gaze from her lips back to her eyes. "When you read me?"
"I see that…" her lips grew closer and closer to his so slowly that he was tempted to close the gap himself, "…you think…" her hands found their way to his neck and were now running through the hair on the back of his head, "…you haven't had enough tequila for us to be doing this." She threw her head back with laughter and let her hands slide down the front of his shirt as she pulled away.
"What a tease," Booth growled under his breath with a laugh. He knew that this couldn't happen – that she was his partner, and regardless of how much he wanted her to be more than just his partner, that this just absolutely couldn't happen – but something about her uninhibited, drunken smile and the wicked glint in her eye chased all rational thought from his mind. This game they were playing certainly put him on thin ice; ice that, once cracked, he was well aware could never freeze back over. It was against all of his better judgment, and he knew it. He absolutely couldn't let anything happen tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy his present company in her current once-in-a-blue-moon condition.
Booth tilted his head, a cheeky smile tattooed resolutely – and perhaps permanently – on his lips. "Bones, Bones, Bones," he sighed, crossing his arms, "what are we going to do with you?"
"I don't know, what will you do with me?" She replied wickedly with a crooked half grin.
As he opened his mouth, surely ready to shoot back some witty response completely laced with innuendo, Brennan's jaw dropped and she started jumping up and down excitedly.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Booth! This song! This song!" She shouted, sounding remarkably like a hyper, pre-pubescent girl.
Booth instinctively looked upward and heard the beginning chords of the B-52's "LoveShack" blasting through the speakers. He shook his head in disbelief as she started shimmying around in front of him.
"I'm headin' dooown the Atlanta highway," she crooned, grinning like a madwoman, "Lookin' for the love getaway! Heading for the looove getawaaay…" He knew they were supposed to be dancing, but it was hard to pay attention the task at hand as she raised one arm in the air and was twisting her hips and ruffling her hair in front of him. She could dance. Boy, she could really dance. So he stood there, simply watching in rapt amusement and as the song wore on, he couldn't help but find himself drawn in by her melodic voice and her fiery dance moves.
Her smile grew wider as she watched him jump around with her, singing the guy's parts just as flamboyantly as she sang the girl's. Half way through the song, she turned around, dancing with her back against his strong chest and letting her hands intertwine with his as they rested on her hips.
After a few moments, Brennan lifted his hands from her and jumped around to face him as they both sang (or really, shouted) the lyrics in unison. "I can't hear you…Bang bang! On the door, baby! Bang bang! On the door!"
"Wait wait wait wait," she tapped his chest eagerly, out of breath. "Booth, let me sing this part, it's the best part of the whole song." He smiled and bowed his head towards her, gesturing for her to do her thing.
"—You're what?!" Brennan yelled, feigning shock, before crinkling her nose and wrapping her arms around his neck once again, "tin roof…Rusted!"
They stood still together as the song continued – Brennan still dancing in place, and Booth beaming at her. "Would you kick my ass if I said that you should get drunk off your ass a little more often?" He joked, as the music smoothly transitioned into a much slower song.
"Um, yes!" Brennan laughed, out of breath. "Because by saying that you're implying that I'm boring and lame normally, which, I'll have you know, is so not true."
"Hey hey hey, don't go putting words in my mouth," Booth retorted, rubbing the back of his head as nervous energy built up in the muscles of his neck. Before he even had the chance to contemplate whether or not it would be a good idea to slow dance with his wildly inebriated partner who had already shown a penchant for tantalizingly flirtatious and teasing behavior, she had nestled herself in the crook of his neck.
"Mmm, you smell manly, Booth." A hearty laugh echoed from the pit of his stomach. Did his partner – his world-renowned, highly-respected forensic anthropologist partner, who just happens to also be a critically acclaimed best-selling author, just say he smelled, quote, manly? Quickly, she tilted her head up towards his with wide eyes. "Manly, as in, like a man."
This would certainly be a long night.
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AN: Have I gone off my rocker?! I think that is quite possibly the case. Reviews are like air, so click on over and drop a line!