My tub's bigger

Booth smiled as he looked down at the text. Then looked around the restaurant before adjusting his stance. He groaned softly and shook his head just a little at the thought of his beautiful partner waiting for him in her big jacuzzi tub. He'd opened that text message multiple times during the afternoon while waiting to be done with work, ready to keep his part of the bargain.

I'll bring dinner

That's where they'd left things hours ago when Bones finally got her way and went back to the Jeffersonian. He stayed, completed his suspect interviews, met with Carolyn, and went over the growing mountain of evidence before delegating out more assignments and follow-ups. It was a relief when he finally pulled out of the Hoover's parking garage, like seeing the finish line at the end of a marathon.

This would be the first night they spent together since their return from the Queen Anne. That carried a lot of weight in his book. It was easy at the resort, no pressure, no expectations, cocooned in a world all its own. This, them together, at home, creating a new life, a real life, a new routine, it was a complete unknown, a future they would have to build as a team if it was going to work.

Pulling out his wallet Booth paid for their dinner and left. Making the quick trip from the restaurant to her place, he juggled the box of takeout cartons in one hand and keys in the other. He was one deep breath away from a future with her. Booth unlocked and opened the door to her apartment and stepped in.

"Lucy, I'm ho-ome." He said playfully, his poor attempt at a thick cuban accent echoed through the apartment. Rounding the corner to her open kitchen, he set dinner on the counter, catching her confused expression as she looked up from a highly organized web of evidence folders, pictures, and reports, her head tilted. "It's...nevermind." His smile was warm and inviting. "What's all this?"

He didn't have to ask, he knew. She brought work home with her. This case was bothering her, she'd told him as much earlier in the day. In fact, she was sure it was the reason she hadn't been able to sleep since they returned from the Queen Anne. It annoyed her to no end when she couldn't figure things out. It was like the case was mocking her, questioning her intellect. It was a challenge she couldn't refuse. To be honest, they both suffered from it, it was part of what made them so successful, where most people would give up and move on, they couldn't. They were like a bulldog, jaw locked until they figured it out, until they won.

"I'm just looking at it all again, trying to see what I missed."

Booth made his way around the edge of her long dining table, every inch covered and peppered with postit notes. Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently back and forth, settling her in his arms. Falling back against him, she hummed. It felt good, natural, to be like this with him, the way she'd pictured the possibility of it for years, a beautiful mix of work, play, and pleasure. His hand slipped down along her side, following the curve of her hip, before leaning slightly to see what was left in the banker box set on a chair at the end of the table. There wasn't much, everything but a file with a picture of Frank attached was already laid out with the exception of one file. Taking the grey Jeffersonian folder from her hands, Booth set it haphazardly on her perfectly aligned work.

"Booth." He ignored her, all hands and kisses. He'd waited long enough, the last few days were intolerably long, he wasn't prepared to wait any longer, he wanted to be with her, just her, not her and their long list of suspects.

"You promised me, Bones, it's tub time." Inch by inch, he was moving her away from her work.

"I didn't promise you anything, Booth, the tub was your suggestion, I merely pointed out that my tub was bigger than yours. That's all." She wouldn't go easily, but he already knew that. Pushing back, she gripped his broad shoulders, her mouth tangled with his, as she slowly moved them back toward the table.

"Whatever you're doing here can wait." He pulled her flush up against his body, holding her close, relishing the pleasured moan that escaped her. She wanted this too, she was just too damn stubborn to admit it.

"I was almost done." She slapped his shoulder playfully.

"Really?" Backing up he took a second look at the table.

"Yes, really, before you messed it up." Wiggling out of his arms, she grabbed the folder he flopped on the table and held it to her chest. In an act of careful concentration, she pulled her lip between her teeth and considered its placement.

"Marilyn's alibi checks out, by the way." It was too easy to fall back into work mode, Booth hated it, but couldn't resist it either, this new information came tumbling out. "She was with Beatrice at the time of Oliver's death, well documented actually. Several staff members went in and out of the room, for different reasons, all of them registered on the security lock system when they slid their cards, times, dates, employee numbers, all of them saw Marilyn there in the room with Beatrice."

"That doesn't mean she didn't commit the other murders."

"No, it doesn't. But she's off the hook for this one."

"And Lelia?"

"We're following up on that one, no word yet. She says she was with a client at the spa, but they're having a hard time running down the client or staff that can confirm her story."

They both stared at the mounds of evidence laid out on the table in front of them. In an act of resignation Booth sighed, stepped over to the box, and pulled out Frank's file.

"Then there's this guy." Flipping casually through the file, he looked for a place to put him on the table.

"What? No. You said he wasn't a suspect anymore." Her defensiveness startled him, drawing his attention away from the file and back to her.

"I think we need to take another look, Bones." He watched her stand up a little straighter, square her shoulders, set her jaw. Years of experience meant he knew exactly what that look meant, he braced himself for impact.

"But...but you said they did, from the beginning, you said you had a gut feeling about them."

"I know I did, but the evidence doesn't support that."

"The evidence doesn't support it being Frank either." Booth shrugged. That was true enough, the evidence wasn't much help in pointing to one perpetrator or another.

"No, it doesn't rule him out, still, we need to consider him. Why are you getting so defensive about this, Bones? I don't understand. You're usually the one reminding me to consider all the evidence." She ignored him.

"You...you called him a godsend because of that steak."

"He was." Turning sharply she walked away from him. He followed, trying to explain. "He was. But he may be a murderer too." Another step or two and he was standing right in front of her. "We have to consider it, Bones, have to."

"But you said he was just an obsessed fan." Booth chuckled, it wasn't a pleasant laugh, it wasn't out of humor, it was sardonic, he was chuckling at the absurdity, as a steady flow of visuals from Frank's little bungalow crowded his brain.

"Yeah, well, he's definitely that." She didn't like the implication, shooting him a nasty look of disapproval. "He has a life sized cardboard cut out of you, Bones. Life. Sized."

"Being an obsessed fan doesn't make him a murderer."

He was tired and he knew she was too, she told him she hadn't slept. They were both hungry, at least he was, and she was notorious for not eating when she was all wrapped up in a case. All he wanted was to be with her, have some dinner maybe a good stiff drink, relax, enjoy each other's company, maybe even get some sleep.

"Look, there's no reason to fight over this." He argued, wanting desperately to get this whole situation with her under control. But it backfired. Taking a step forward she leaned in to make her point.

"We are not fighting, this is not fighting." She poked his chest to punctuate every word. There was something about her when she was mad. Something in the way she stood, in the way she stopped using contractions and enunciated every word sharply. Strong, bold, insistent, he loved that part of her, found it terribly attractive, even when it was directed at him. He couldn't help himself, he challenged her.

"Really? What would you call it?" Stepping into her space, he caught those fiery eyes, holding them captive with his own.

"A discussion, it is a discussion, Booth, we are discussing the case. We are discussing suspects and...and...and evidence. You are saying that Frank is a suspect because he is a fan of my writing. I am saying that being a fan should not automatically make him a suspect and does not make him a murderer. I have millions of fans, none of whi-"

Reaching out he cupped her face with both hands and pulled her into a deep, desperate kiss. All his thoughts, every counter argument he could have logged were swallowed up by that kiss, that frantic, irresistible kiss that broke the floodgates, redirecting their whole night.

The last two nights apart left her with an unexpected sense of urgency and though her first reaction was to wrap her fists tight around his suit coat lapel and pull him in; she almost immediately pushed him back, just far enough away to start undressing him. His tie, suit coat, the annoying buttons on his dress shirt, all of it needed to go.

"Bones." His fingers still threaded through her hair. "Bones...I'm…" He kept distracting himself, first, her long elegant neck, the sound she made as he nuzzled her ear, her sweet dip where her collar bones met. "I...I'm...sorry...I shouldn't." Travelling quickly along the curves of her body, he ran one hand down around the curve of her ass, pulling up her leg along his thigh as he went. "I...shouldn't...it wasn-" Booth struggled to finish his thought, "fair."

"Shut up. "Booth's sensuous groan vibrated through her turning into a slight chuckle, but he obeyed.

His suit coat fell where they were standing. His shirt draped over the lamp they accidently knocked over in their frenzy. Her blouse on one of the beautifully upholstered chairs set slightly askew as they toppled past. His tie on a priceless carved steatite vase from ancient Egypt. Both of his shoes in the hall alongside one of hers, the other in the entrance to her bedroom. She wasn't sure where his pants landed and quite frankly she didn't care. All that mattered was him and the overwhelming relief she felt as her bare body settled against his, like cool sheets on a hot day.

Booth felt the same way, entranced, completely captivated by the way her hair fell against her pillows as they tumbled onto the bed. Her soft sounds of pleasure, his tantalizing reward for every welcomed touch, the arch of her body as she rose up to meet him, the way they vied for control, both demanding and yielding, each moment building on the last. The rise and fall, the pull and push, their mind, body, souls bound together in this one act, they both felt it so intensely. Such a universal act, but still, so unique and individual. This belonged to them, theirs alone.

Sated she collapsed onto his chest, letting her body rise and fall with his every breath, finding peace in the rhythm of him. She felt safe. The tender caress of his hands over her skin, long and smooth, lulled her. Normally, she was quite awake and energized after sex, this was different, she found herself calm and serene, ready for sleep.

Booth reached for the covers, pulling them up around them only to be scolded for moving.

"No." Exhausted and drowsy, she thought he was trying to get out of bed. "No...stay." Patting his chest lightly, she shushed him when he tried to explain.

Somewhere in her slumbrous mind she recognized a simple truth. It was easier to sleep lying next to Booth. Falling under his protection, tucked safely in his arms, afforded her a sense of security she'd never experienced with any other lover. It allowed her to let her guard down and fall into a deep sleep. Booth followed.

But when he woke it was to an empty bed. Slipping on his boxers, he stumbled through the dark into the opening of her hall where he stopped, leaning against the door jam he watched her from behind. He saw her, every beautiful little detail that was her, the contrast of his white dress shirt against her pale skin, the way wisps of her dark hair fell along her slim neck, the way she stood, weight all centered on one leg, the other pulled up just a little as she rubbed the back of her calf with it, then shifted her stance. She was the standard, his standard.

Quietly he made his way across the room coming to stand right behind her. She was fiddling with those files again, arranging and rearranging. Frank was on the table now, the corner of his mouth pulled up just a little, she listened to him whether she agreed or not, as he did with her. It was one of the things that made them great, mutual respect.

"Hey." Booth spoke quietly, his hands drifting to her hips, bare under the soft white fabric. "That's my shirt you're wearing. I think you should give that back." She chuckled, as she turned around in his arms.

"It's quite comfortable." Booth played with the buttons, his fingers tickling as they brushed lightly against her skin. "I'm not sure I'm ready to give it back." His eyes delighted in her playfulness, dancing along her features, playful, then faded, his mood shifting, becoming more serious.

"We need to make a deal." She looked hesitant, worried about what he might say next.

"What kind of a deal?"

"We need to agree that work stays at work, when we're together, when we're home, whether that's at my place or here, no work stuff, okay?" She looked unsure, so he continued. "We work hard, Bones, every day and long into most nights, and a lot of that time we're together. We need time away from it all, if we're going to make this thing work between us. We need to make that separation, okay?"

"Okay." She agreed, nodding. Booth was surprised she acquiesced so quickly. Though, he knew, it wasn't as easy as one declaration, they both knew that, it would be a process for them both.

The real test would be to see what she did with her elaborate spread of case files on the table. He kissed her on the forehead, then the lips, and headed for the kitchen, straight for the neglected boxes of takeout on the counter. Without a word he grabbed up a set of chopsticks and a couple boxes of takeout and headed back towards her bedroom knowing she was watching his every move.

"Booth?" Turning back towards her he paused but offered nothing, bait she couldn't refuse. "Where are you going?"

"I'm starving, Bones, I could eat a horse."

"Booth." There was a slight hint of annoyance in her voice as she dragged out his name, eyes wide, head tilted.

"Figurative, I'm not really gonna eat a...besides...I have a date with a jacuzzi tub, your jacuzzi tub."

"Booth. Not while you're in the tub."

"Oh, definitely while I'm in the tub, hot water, all those jets, and my favorite Wong Foos." He held the cartons up triumphantly, wiggling them back and forth just a little. "Life doesn't get much better." Taking a few more steps he stopped and turned toward her again, "except, you should join me." And he disappeared around the corner calling after her. "That would definitely be better."

"Booth."

He waited in the dark, just inside her bedroom, to see what she would do. Out of sight but close enough to hear her exasperated sigh and the heavy thud each file made as it hit the last, quickly filling the box.

"Wait for me." She called out to him. "I'm coming."

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: I just want to thank everyone for reading and for all the reviews and sweet messages. What a great network of support we have here. I am slowly catching up with all things real life. I have the second chapter of What She Never Knew She Wanted almost done and I'm coming to terms with the fact that there will most likely be three chapters in that little story. I will probably post that chapter and then the next one in this story, hopefully, in the next couple weeks.

On a side note, it's funny to me how this whole writing process works. It's not something I ever imagined for myself and never really studied so the process surprises me often. This argument between B & B was something that landed in my mind several chapters ago. I thought it would be in the story much sooner because of that, but it just wasn't fitting. After I wrestled with it over and over again I finally pushed it aside thinking it wasn't going to end up anywhere in this story. And, yet, here it is, surprising me, most of all. Strange thing this writing beast.

On another note, I need to thank snowybones for her constant support. At the drop of the hat she's always ready to read, edit, advise, and otherwise talk me off the ledge. I don't thank her enough for that. She's quite dear to my heart.

Thank you again for all your support. I look forward to hearing what you think of this chapter...oh...and I promise there will eventually be a tub scene before this whole thing is over. It temporarily went the way of the argument that stepped in instead.