It was a surreal feeling.

Dr. Temperance Brennan stood toe-to-toe with her partner of four years, their eyes connected, lips mere centimeters apart, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"What are we doing?" she heard herself ask, trying frantically to process the situation as it unfolded before her.

For the past four years she had observed Special Agent Seeley Booth under nearly condition imaginable. They had faced life and death together and their partnership had grown stronger as a result. She also conceded that their personal relationship had grown by leaps and bounds as well. He was her friend and confidant and she found herself confiding in him more and more as time passed. At times it seemed as if he was the one person who truly understood her and did not judge her one iota.

They certainly spent enough time together.

Most mornings he would swing by with coffee and doughnuts and whisk her away to a grisly murder scene or a suspect waiting to be interviewed. Even on the mornings that he had no official business with her he still showed up and made some lame excuse as to why he was there. She never turned him away.

If he happened to simply drop her off in the morning, she could always count on him to leave and show up again around lunch time. Like clockwork, he would arrive at the Jeffersonian by twelve-thirty with a sandwich, fries, and a drink if he knew she was engrossed in her work. If she got too involved, or was pushing herself too hard, he would drag her out of the lab entirely and force her to eat at the diner with him. It was endearing in a way.

Then at night- or early in the morning if it was a particularly difficult case- he would sit in her office and work through their paperwork with her. They both had stacks of it that had to be completed and he reasoned it was more efficient for them to work together from the beginning than fill things out separately and have to compare notes later anyway. She couldn't argue with the logic. The two of them would work, eat, fight over egg rolls, and bicker over the nuances of the case until finally they finished and he dropped her off.

That was what had happened tonight. Except tonight she had invited him in for a drink. She had willingly let him take her into his arms and they had danced around her living room floor. They had woven around furniture and bantered back and forth about how the song did or did not apply to each of them. Until finally they were here- now- a hairsbreadth apart.

"Everything," she watched his lips move in answer to her question, felt his breath, and tasted the Thai chicken he had eaten earlier, "And nothing."

Unsure of her exact motivations, she closed the gap between her own lips and those of her partner and kissed him.

At first, she was reminded of their kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas. Just as before, she had been the one to initiate the kiss. Both times their lips met hurriedly. Both times his tongue probed her mouth. Both times she felt a headiness that threatened to set her empirical world on its ear.

Only this time was different.

There was no coercion involved. No promise of a favor to be earned. No audience to observe and ask embarrassing questions. And she found that she truly had no reservations left.

After a minute, he pulled back slightly and gave her a questioning look. She nodded and he resumed the kiss, deepening it as he steered her toward the couch.

She had kissed many men before- even Booth- but this kiss topped them all.

Somehow, he was managing to convey a multitude of feelings: years of friendship and what she immediately identified as love, mixed with passion and tempered by a deep, abiding respect culminated in an instant. Oh, there was a fair amount of built up sexual tension that was being released on both of their parts as well, but at no time did she feel as if he were trying to force himself on her. In fact, she suspected that he was holding back in deference to her and would only go as far as she would allow him.

They landed on the couch in an unceremonious heap and she found herself on top of his lap- his desire for her now extremely evident.

"Sorry," he reddened, repositioning her and willing his body to behave.

She shrugged, "It's a natural, biological response-"

"Shh," he put his finger lightly across her lips and halted her, "No biology talk, Temperance."

"Is that so, Seeley?" she responded teasingly, feeling more playful than she normally would be and attributing it to the alcohol, "Because-"

He cut her off again, this time covering her lips with his own and wrapping his arms around her.

Once again she was taken aback at how different- and yet how natural- it felt to be kissing Booth. She was not one to assess a situation based solely on feelings and yet she had never experienced anything like this before. It was as if she had spent the last several years of her life looking for acceptance and a place of belonging only to find that it had been staring her in the face all along.

Tentatively, she placed a hand on his chest, feeling his smooth, sculpted muscles beneath his thin, black t-shirt.

He groaned and the rumble it produced inside of her mouth sent shockwaves throughout her entire body.

He moved his hands through her hair as if he were trying to stroke every last strand while she let her right hand rove from his chest to his face and back to his chest again.

He groaned again. Loudly.

Their lips separated, heads pulling back, eyes opening and focusing on each other.

"Are we still doing nothing, Booth?" she breathed.

"And everything," he nodded, pressing his forehead against hers, "Is that okay, Bones?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Very good," she smiled, then frowned as she heard something, "I think my CD is broken. It's still playing that song."

Booth laughed and set her lightly on the couch with a peck to her cheek, moving over to the stereo and powering it down.

"I set it to repeat the song," he informed her.

"You can do that?"

"Yep."

"Interesting."

Booth sat back down on the couch beside her and she could tell he was amused by her lack of knowledge about her own stereo. She smiled at him to let him know the feeling was mutual.

Abruptly, he stood, "I should get going."

"Why?" she rose to follow him as he headed for the door.

"Bones," he said softly, turning to face her, his hand on the doorknob, "If I don't leave now- I'm not leaving tonight."

"What if I don't mind?" her hands were on her hips but her tone was soft and non-threatening.

"No, Bones," he shook his head and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, "It's late and we're both tired and emotional. That's not how I want things to be."

"Will you be back in the morning to pick me up?" she tried desperately to keep the pleading edge out of her voice but failed miserably in her fatigued state.

"It's Saturday, Bones," he reminded her gently.

"Oh," her head dropped, eyes looking everywhere but at him.

"How about I come over for breakfast?" he offered, lifting her chin back up with his forefinger.

"I think I would like that."

"I think I would too."

"Good night, Booth."

"Good night, Bones," he kissed her gently and opened the door, "Sweet dreams."