"He was a wise man who invented beer." - Plato.

"Booth, hurry up!"

"Patience, Bones!"

"You know, I find it quite pathetic that I'm the woman and I managed to get dressed faster than you."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a woman?"

"No, you're most definitely a man."

"I should hope so!"

"I'm just saying that generally, women take longer to get dressed than males, but you seem to care more about your physical appearance than the average man."

Booth appeared through the doorway of his bedroom holding up two long-sleeved thermal t-shirts. "Navy or white?" Obviously, this emitted a chuckle from Temperance. "Navy," she replied matter-of-factly. He approached her and bopped her on the nose, causing her to scrunch her face in reply. "I knew you'd come in handy one day," he said with a smirk.

"I find that very condescending," she replied.

"Love you, Bones." He stole a quick peck on the lips before returning to her bedroom.

An hour later, after a dilemma on which socks he should wear, the happy duo was sitting in his SUV, their usual banter taking place as Booth slowly drove them to the bar.

"Could you drive any faster?" she impatiently asked.

"With these icy roads? You're kidding me!" He flicked on their seat warmers and turned up the heater.

"I don't kid." He reached across the console and took her hand in his, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. She smiled at him and idly began to play with his long fingers. Soon, they reached The Founding Fathers' bar and sure enough, the entire Jeffersonian posse was waiting inside. Obviously, Temperance and Booth made a point to restrain from touch each other.

"Well, well, if it isn't our two love doves," Angela said as spun around in her bar stool.

"How does she know?" Temperance whispered to Booth.

"I'm pretty sure she's joking, Bones."

"Oh." Booth brought his hand to the small of her back and led her to the bar where their friends were seated.

"Blue Moon," he ordered to the bartender. "Make that two," Temperance added.

-

An hour and a half later, the commotion in the bar had picked up. A group of college students were laughing obnoxiously to their right, and to their left was a crowd of angry, middle-aged men.

"The way that those college students over there are using binge drinking to fight for top social status reminds me of this documentary I've been watching about life in Los Angeles. Well, the tribe refers to it as "the hills". It's fascinating," Temperance said, interrupting the current conversation on a chocolate bar Angela had recently discovered.

"So you're implying that Lauren Conrad is a member of a tribe?" Angela mused.

"Oh, yes. Their search for a mate is entirely animalistic and I find it riveting." Naturally, this led to her friends bursting out with laughter. She simply looked at them with sheer confusion written across her features. "I don't understand how that's funny." Booth reached across to grab her beer away from her. "You've had too much to drink, Bones," he said, laughter in his voice. "I'm not done with that yet!" She clumsily snatched the bottle back from him. Booth held up his arms in surrender. There was no use in fighting with the stubborn anthropologist.

When she tried to take drink from the bottle, she found that there wasn't a drop left. Frustrated, she held the bottle upside down and shook it.

"I'm pretty sure that's empty, Dr. Brennan," Cam said.

"No duh, warlock," Temperance indignantly replied.

"Did you just say 'no duh'?" Dr. Sweets asked, surprised. "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"I believe the correct phrase is Sherlock, Bones," Booth stated.

"Isn't that what I just said?" She leaned over the counter and began to wave towards the bartender. "Hey! Hey!" Booth moved behind her and gently pulled her back to her seat. "Martini, please!" she instructed. The bartender gave her look before nodding and moving to make her beverage. "Easy now, Bones," Booth said.

"I really do think you've had one too many, sweetie," Angela suggested. "You're acting almost as rowdy as the Hills tribe." Hodgins snickered loudly and reached to take a bite out of his french fries.

"You know, Booth is an excellent kisser," Temperance announced, completely out of the blue. Hodgins choked on his french fry, Angela's jaw dropped down to the earth's mantle, Cam cleared her throat, Sweets looked as though he'd just viewed a Megan Fox sex tape, and Booth simply did his regular nervous laugh. "I think it's time to get you home," he said, standing from his bar stool and signaling the bartender for their check.

"Hold it right there, bucko," Angela interjected, forcing Booth back in his seat. "No one's going anywhere until I get details. I believe this explains your strange behavior during our phone call earlier, huh, Brennan?"

"Oh, yes. I was indeed quite distracted," Temperance openly said as Booth, mortified, took a giant gulp from his beer.

"Elaborate, you two. Did something recently happen that I should know about?" Sweets demanded. He knew of their brief fling back when they had first been introduced and obviously, he was aware of their sexual tension, but he had lost nearly all hope that anything would become of it.

"Booth told me he was in love with me last night," Temperance said, as if it was no big deal. Sweets' eyes nearly popped out of his head. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Ooookay, Bones! Time to go!" Booth urged as he avoided any and all eye contact with his companions.

"And you said...?" Sweets pressed on.

"I said I loved him back." Angela, as you would most likely assume, squealed in delight. And, not surprisingly, Hodgins slapped Booth on the back and announced, "Get some!"

"That's it. We're going now," Booth began, quickly signing the bill. "I won't be coming back here for a while," he muttered under his breath.

"But I'm not ready to go!" Temperance whined uncharacteristically. Angela stole Booth's seat, beaming proudly. "We are definitely getting you drunk more often," she said. "What else aren't you telling me?" Booth, defeated, stood behind Temperance with his hands on his shoulders. There was definitely a hint of a smile on his lips. He knew she'd spill the bean sooner or later, sober or not. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply. Angela's grin broadened noticeably at the sight.

"We are going to need to schedule more therapy sessions..." Sweets stated as he ran his fingers through his curly hair.

"I probably should get going," Cam announced. "We will have work tomorrow, so don't be too hungover." She moved to Booth and patted his broad back with a smirk. "Congrats, Seeley. It's about time this happened."