For Bama, for planting this thought.

Siren

"No. No. No. No. No," Seeley Booth stormed into one of the makeup rooms in the Hoover's undercover department. "This is not happening, Bones."

His partner-who was currently dressed in the tightest, lowest halter top known to man, along with a band-aid of a mini-skirt, and fishnet stockings that looked like they'd been tailored to her long legs- looked down at him from her high stool, surrounded by makeup artists.

"Hi, Booth," she said casually.

"Don't 'Hi, Booth' me, Bones, and don't think you're going out like that, either," he folded his arms across his chest and glared.

"Agent Perotta needs me," she glared back.

"Not dressed like that she doesn't!" he all but yelled. "And what happened to only working with me?"

"Apparently, somebody read my file and noted my superb track record in undercover investigations," she said haughtily. "Not to mention, Assistant Director Hacker felt that I would make the perfect 'red light special in a blue light district' and recommended me to Agent Perotta."

Booth clenched his jaw and tried not to focus on his desire to march upstairs and pull his gun on Hacker and his stupid crush, before replying, "You got your colors mixed up there, Bones, and I don't care if the Pope himself recommended you. You aren't leaving this room dressed like a hooker."

"I doubt the Pope would endorse prostitution."

"Bones."

"Booth."

Sensing the growing tension between the partners, the makeup techs cleared out, leaving them alone.

"What's the real issue, Booth?" she hopped down gracefully from her stool. "Why are you so upset?"

He started to answer but had to gulp mid-breath as she closed the distance between them, giving him a perfect view of all the things her outfit did and didn't cover.

"Come on, Booth, don't be shy," she pressed, continuing to move forward. "What could you possibly objet to?"

He stood his ground but more from shock than anything else. All of a sudden she stopped and pulled back.

"Well, if you have nothing further to add I believe I'll go see if this meets with Andrew's approval."

"No," he ground the word out, grabbing her arm before she could leave.

"Why. Not. Booth?" she enunciated every word slowly, her face inches from his.

"Because you're mine," the words rushed out raw and uncensored.

He braced for the fallout, but instead of either flattening him or running, she relaxed under his grip, eyes softening, and he swore he saw her nod.

"What was that?" he asked at her faint mutter.

"I said 'finally,'" she answered, looking him in the eye. "I was beginning to think I would have to resort to one of Angela's flashing techniques."

"Um," his eyes glanced at her shirt's neckline of their own accord before he dragged them back to her face, "you pretty much did- wait!" His eyes narrowed, "There's no assignment, is there?"

"I've told you numerous times I'm a good actress," she was flirting openly with him now.

"Shame on me for not believing you," he inhaled her scent, nostrils flaring.

"Indeed," she nodded, "you should be punished."

"Hey, Bones," he said as she began to nibble at his neck, "what say we not devour each other at the Hoover, okay?"

"Fine," she smirked up at him, "my place, then. I've been looking forward to finding out how adept you are at undercover investigations for some time."