Author's Note: Mwa-ha-ha-ha. By the way, I am a HUGE Packers fan so there was no pouting from me. Thanks again for feedback and following this story, and to bookwormlady for catching a mistake after I posted! Have any guesses for what the next adjective is?

Disclaimer: I may have forgotten to put it all of the other times, but I do not own the TV show Bones nor do I make any monetary profit from this story.

Setting: Another chapter where the B/B dynamic exists, but not particularly in the parameters of the seasons. Especially since it mentions the 2011 Super Bowl and I like to think it's something that could take place in any season, even though I prefer it in the earlier ones.


Devious
Not straightforward; shifty; characterized by deceit; "shifty eyes."


He was having the mother of all bad days, and after such a delightful day, too. Yesterday, he and Parker had introduced Bones to the world of football. Any other woman and he would have been annoyed, but he enjoyed explaining things to her. He enjoyed watching her and Parker high-five after touchdowns; it was something that he would remember forever. His favorite part, though, was probably watching her face light up with excitement when she understood what happened, and how he wanted to kiss her pout away when the Green Bay Packers officially beat the Pittsburg Steelers in Super Bowl XLV.

But then he went to bed and woke up. He would pay anything for it to be yesterday again, even if it meant the cheese-headed fans still got to rub terrible towels in the other team's fans' faces.

Everything started when his boss called him pissed off about a missing file. In the wake of his boss' angry words, Booth shot out of bed to see if he had the file, which he had been fairly certain he didn't. Not only did his boxers not keep him warm in the freezing morning air, but it was dark and he stubbed his toe so hard on the corner of his dresser that it drew blood.

He made bloody toe-prints in his living room as he shivered and looked for the file, which he indeed did not have. Then his phone, which he had left in his bedroom, started ringing again. It was his boss calling to inform Booth that the file had been located.

Awake despite his reservations, he hobbled into the bathroom to find a Band-Aid. It had Spiderman on it, which was fine by Booth. When he flushed the toilet, it started overflowing. Any glimpse of a good day quickly vanished. He was already scheduled to go into work late, so he found his tools and got to work.

Even with the water turned off, some liquid escaped when he loosened the pipes, which he was prepared for. The additional thirty-two cents, however, he didn't expect. He rubbed his clean hand along his brow and made a mental note to kindly instruct Parker to tell him the next time he dropped something in the toilet.

Needing to wash up for work, he jumped into the shower, which wouldn't get hot and had no more of his favorite soap. He forgot a towel, so he was forced to run sopping wet into his bedroom to dry himself off.

Getting dressed went without a hitch, although not even his flashiest tie could make the day better. The heater in the SUV wouldn't work and all of his preset radio stations were erased, replaced by odd excuses for music.

When he got to work, both elevators were broken, so he had to run up an endless amount of stairs in his new, and very expensive suit. The second he entered his office seven people walked in and demanded their winnings from the Super Bowl pot. He sat at his desk only for the lever that raises and lowers his chair to break, forcing him to sit a solid foot and a half lower than usual.

He was swamped with paperwork and Bones wasn't there to simplify her results. Then he found a memo from Sweets that reminded Booth of his quarterly evaluation for later that day. Visiting Sweets with his partner by his side was barely bearable, but without her, and for one of these stupid evaluations, the appointment felt like hell.

The coffee he got from the break room afterwards was horrible, but that didn't make him any happier when he spilled the entire mug down the entire front of his body after some green agent rounded a corner too quickly. He got another cup, which made it back to his office, only to be spilled on the keyboard of his computer.

After cleaning the coffee from his desk and tie, it finally looked like he was going to get some paperwork done. His phone had other ideas, though. His office line, which doesn't have caller ID, kept ringing every two minutes. He picked it up every time because he was required to, only to be hung up on. A prankster or psycho serial killer would only make his day worse. An hour later, he was one phone call away from getting someone to trace the call when it stopped, interrupted by his cell phone's ringtone.

At first, he thought that a case might be a positive change in his day. He should have known better. It had started snowing since he got to work, which did not bode well with his broken heater situation. Once he picked Bones up, she managed to give him faulty directions that got them lost. And she insisted on listening to the ugly radio stations.

The crime scene was obscenely muddy, which forced Booth into Hodgins' Squintsuit. Needless to say, he looked ridiculous because of how badly it did not fit. Fellow agents laughed, especially after he came back covered in mud from a fall.

By the time he and Bones were back in the subzero SUV, he was done. He reached his limit and curtly instructed her not to speak. True to character, she ignored his request. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the mattress."

He growled and clutched the steering wheel. "Bed, Bones. Wrong side of the bed." He looked over at her, hoping she would just leave it. Her eyebrows were raised in such a way as to get him to continue talking. He told her everything that had gone wrong with his day, from the wake-up call, various bathroom mishaps, car troubles, and coffee spills.

Booth was appalled when she started laughing. It partially made him angry, but part of him was relaxed by the sound. "Don't," he warned. She tried to control her laughter and looked out the window. She couldn't look at him and his coffee-stained attire without relapsing. Realization dawned on him. "You." He pointed at her and momentarily looked away from the road, which given his day, he probably shouldn't have done. "You changed my radio stations, didn't you."

She tried to look at him, but failed. Her denial sounded absolutely pathetic. He took it as confirmation and she shifted in her seat.

"I see your shifty eyes," he accused. She was so going to pay. He pulled over in front of the diner and turned to face her. He poked her sides to get her to speak.

"It was me! It was me," she confessed in a breathless fit of giggles. He eased up on the tickling, but she refused to offer up more information. Booth blackmailed her by tickling her harder, eliciting a squeal from her lips. "Booth! Uncle! Uncle!" After he stopped and gave her a pointed glare, she told him everything. "It was my fault the file was missing. I sent Ms. Wick over with the file on Friday evening, but she has been known to be irresponsible. After you were called, I was called and forced to call her. Apparently she got distracted in Dr. Sweets' office and forgot my clear instructions on where to put it.

"I was looking for my lipstick in your bathroom yesterday when my change purse came open and coins bounced off the counter. I knew I had seventeen quarters, twenty-two dimes, eight nickels, and approximately fifty cents in pennies, so I was able to calculate the money that fell in toilet. I thought it would go down the pipes without trouble.

"The other day when I was waiting for you to get us coffee, I tried to change the radio station and reset all of the channels on accident, so I took the opportunity to change them to mine. I may or may not have broken your chair when I was waiting for you in your office. It suddenly gave out on me, which was quite painful and surprising, but I thought I fixed it. Apparently, not well enough to hold someone of your stature."

She saw his blank face and felt the need to apologize, even though she found the situations quite entertaining. He reached out his hand. "Lemme see your phone." Confused, she obliged. When he saw the thirty-two outgoing calls to his office line, he shook his head and said, "You devious devil-woman," with a small disbelieving smirk. She had "butt-dialed" him thirty-two times. She was definitely going to pay.