Preachy Disclaimer: I don't own Bones (obviously, because I write here, not there). I don't think someone from the show is going to discover my fic and make me a show writer. I will not discuss this update 12,474 times on Twitter or tweet this story to the cast. This update is not the best thing since Brennan collected evidence off of Booth and I won't act as if it is. I will not beg for reviews and cry if you leave me nothing. I'm a big girl. I even dress myself… all by myself…almost every day!

(Some people around these parts are trying to take the fun out of fic reading and writing. Just say no to the drama, sane ones. And that ends today's after-school public service message. XoXo)

P.S. This is post-Hole in the Heart, before anyone but Angela knew there was a them. And thank you Tracy for the beta.

Boothylicious: A Booth that is highly pleasing to the senses, especially to taste or smell. (It's a mighty fine word.)

Booth stood off to the side of the platform holding two coffees, watching her work from the shadows for a few minutes, waiting to get a moment alone with her. He had dropped her off an hour earlier, after they had cracked the case and gotten their suspect to confess. It had only been an hour and suddenly he had found himself heading back to the Jeffersonian to see her again. The coffee was as an acceptable excuse as any.

He watched Cam walk on and off the platform, giving instructions to various interns as her team was putting together the evidence to send to the FBI. Brennan was solely focused on logging each bone before placing them into the victim's casket with the utmost care.

He watched her make a few notes on her clipboard before transferring more bones into the casket, before she smirked a little bit. Without looking at him, she asked "Are you planning to stand there staring at me all day?"

"Maybe. It is a Saturday. I don't really have plans until later," he answered coyly, walking up the stairs to stand beside her.

Her smile grew, but she still didn't look at him. "Oh, you have plans for tonight? Anything interesting?"

"Hmm, well, there were a lot of options… the Phillies have a game tonight. I considered watching that. Maybe I could go to the rink… it's been awhile since I've knocked a puck around."

"No Parker this weekend?"

"Nope… just me. What about you, Bones? Any plans?"

"Actually, yes. I have, as Angela classified it, a 'hot date' tonight," Brennan said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah. Anyone I know?"

"All I can really say is that Angela deemed the man to be 'bootylicious,'" she said, still focused on the bones in front of her, even as Booth now distractingly stood directly behind her.

He bent his head forward, and without touching her, whispered, "I'm pretty sure she said 'Boothylicious,' Bones."

"I'm quite certain that neither of those words could be found in any academically recognized dictionary," she replied with a snort.

"You never know… new words get added every year," he said, his breath ghosting over her neck, before he took a solid step backwards as he remembered where they were, setting her coffee down beside her.

"So… I'll pick you up at 7 tonight?" he asked quietly, making his way down his first step before turning around to look at her.

"Are you sure there isn't a baseball game on television you'd find more interesting to watch?" she said cockily.

"Guess you'll just have to make it worth my while, won't you?" he shot back, sounding equally confident.

She scoffed. "I believe you requested tonight's dinner. I think that makes you responsible for making it a worthwhile affair," she responded cheekily.

"I suppose it will have to live up to Boothylicious expectations."

"I'm not sure how such expectations are defined, but I'm sure Angela would offer tips if you feel like you need them," she said, barely containing a chuckle.

"I think I'll manage just fine, thank you," he shot back, grinning so much his cheeks actually hurt.

"If you say so. It's after two o'clock now. You might need to hurry if you intend to be primped and ready by seven."

"Primped," he scoffed. "I do not primp."

She removed her gloves before walking over to him. He was one step down on the platform's stairs, making her taller than him. She looked down at him, then ran one hand through his hair and another along his jawline slowly, causing him to close his eyes and cease oxygen intake. "I'd say your hair is only at half-gelled at best and you could definitely use a shave."

His jaw dropped as she laughed, and her playfulness compelled him to grab her knee as he drew her closer, rubbing his thumb over her knee cap slowly as he gazed seriously into her eyes.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just below hers and whispered, "Seems like I'm not the only one who needs to shave."

She huffed in mocked outrage and pushed him away, laughing at his happy grin as he stumbled backwards. "I have work to do, Agent Booth," she said as she walked back to the examination table and searched for a new pair of latex gloves.

"Then I'll get out of your way so I can 'primp' in preparation for tonight, Doctor Brennan."

"Sounds like you'll have a very busy afternoon," she drawled out, laughing at his wounded expression.

"7 pm."

"I'll see you then."

*giggle*