It's almost one in the morning when they finally make it to the bedroom, and although Booth is tired enough to collapse on the spot, the thought that they'll be going to bed together every night from now on leaves him with an almost tipsy feeling of elation. Bones, too, seems a little giddy in spite of her visible exhaustion, and Booth thinks it's a real pity that he'll likely be asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow because he'd love to be awake enough to celebrate properly.

"We'll have to tell everyone now, won't we?" Bones is fumbling with her shirt buttons and doesn't look at him, and Booth can't tell from the casual tone of her questions whether she's really okay with the idea or just trying to mask the fact that she isn't.

"I guess." He does his best to sound equally nonchalant, although he finds that he is ready to stop being so damn secretive about their relationship. "Good thing you already prepared Hacker, isn't it?"

At that, she finally looks up from her buttons, and her smile seems genuine when she replies in a tone of deep satisfaction, "I told you I knew what I was doing."

"Never doubted it." It's not strictly true, but she accepts the assurance with a nod as she slips out of her shirt.

"Are we telling him before or after informing everyone at the lab?"

"Before," Booth answers immediately – this one's a no-brainer, because he knows only too well how fast the news will spread. "We can tell them right after, but I don't want to risk Hacker hearing it through the grapevine before we talk to him, and gossip travels faster than light with the squints."

"That's impossible," she reminds him earnestly, but Booth can see the sparkle in her eyes that tells him she's merely teasing. "Sound travels at no more than –"

He's beside her before she can launch into a lecture about the speed of light and cuts her off with a quick, close-mouthed kiss. "I'll take your word for it, Bones, but we're still telling Hacker first."

"Okay." She playfully undoes the button of his pants, but then backs off to wriggle out of her jeans while he finishes getting undressed. "Given what he told me last week, I don't think he'll do more than remind us we'll have to behave professionally while we're at work together."

"I don't think so either." Booth is aware that deep down he still feels it's too good to be true, but that's probably just because everything else has been so damn difficult for them that it seems downright strange when something goes right for a change. "We should probably brace ourselves for another round of partner therapy, but other than that, we'll be okay."

Bones seems to freeze for a split second, but it passes so quickly that he thinks he must have imagined it. "Would you mind resuming therapy?"

Booth shrugs. "I'm not crazy about Sweets nosing around in our private lives again, but I'll happily deal with it if it means we can be together without any further trouble from the FBI. Besides, we've been able to handle him before, I'm sure we can do it again."

They're both in their underwear now, and Booth steps up behind her and unhooks her bra for her. She lets the straps slide down her arms and then turns around, smiling a little at the way his eyes move down to her breasts.

"I thought you were tired."

"I am, I'm afraid." Booth kisses her again, enjoying the feeling of her nipples brushing against his chest. "I'm not dead, though, so I'm still going to appreciate the view."

"Good to know." She seems about to say more, but it ends in a yawn. "I'm afraid I'm rather exhausted myself, but if you'd like, we can make up for it in the morning."

He returns her suggestive grin and slides his fingers under the waistband of her panties. "Is that your way of telling me not to bother with my PJs?"

She frowns a little. "You never wear more than boxers to bed anyway."

"Kidding, Bones." Booth leans in for another brief kiss before getting rid of his boxers and sliding under the covers. She switches off the lights and joins him after a few seconds, and Booth pulls her close and revels in the feeling of her warm, soft skin against his own. He loves these moments when they're naked together, even if he's too tired for anything else (it happens, he isn't twenty any more). There's something incredible intimate in the way she's willing to be with him with nothing between them, not to "satisfy biological urges" or something like that, but only for the sake of enjoying each other's closeness while they fall asleep curled up against each other. Maybe it means he's turning into a sap in his old age, but Booth finds that he honestly doesn't care.

Right now, he just wants to wrap his arms around her and drift off, but it isn't lost on him that Bones doesn't seem able to relax; she's tense as a bowstring under his touch when he tries running a soothing hand over her back, and her breath is coming far too fast for someone who's trying to sleep.

"Everything okay, Bones?"

She's quiet for a while, but at last she states firmly, "I don't want therapy with Sweets any more."

Booth considers reaching for the bedside lamp, but thinks better of it – he has found that Bones is usually more willing to be forthcoming about something that bothers her when he can't see her face in the darkness. "That sounds like you have a problem with Sweets, not just with psychology in general."

She takes a deep breath, and he's close enough to feel how her heartbeat speeds up. "It's just that…"

Booth props himself up on his elbow when she falls silent without finishing the sentence. "Bones, you're beginning to freak me out here. What's wrong? Has Sweets done something?"

She still doesn't answer, and he's really starting to worry now. "Look, just tell me about it. We can deal with whatever it is, but you need to be honest with me."

"You're going to be angry."

Booth hates the cautious tone in her voice – she has never let his anger stop her from saying or doing what she wanted before, and the thought that she might suddenly hesitate to speak her mind because she doesn't want him to get angry feels wrong on so many levels that he doesn't even want to think about it.

"Bones, whatever the reason is, I'm not going to get angry at you just because you don't want therapy any more!"

"I didn't mean at me." She sounds calmer now, and Booth is glad she seems to have gotten over her hesitation. "You're going to get angry at Sweets, and I know you like him."

"So? I've been angry at Sweets plenty of times before."

"Not like this." She seems very certain, and Booth realizes with mounting dread that whatever it is, it's going to be big.

"Temperance, please."

"Okay." She moves away a little, and even though Booth is tempted to reach out towards her, he knows to give her space when she needs it. "Three years ago, when you got shot and Sweets didn't tell me that you weren't dead…"

"Bones, we've talked about this." It isn't something he's keen to remember – the thought that she was able to brush off the matter like it was nothing has eaten at him for years, and she'll probably never know just how much it meant to finally hear her admit, during that evening after his father's funeral, that she did grieve for him.

"Please let me finish." Her tone is steady – whatever it is, she clearly has made up her mind about it. "There's something I've kept from you, but it seems to me that you should know about it now, considering how much the status of our relationship has changed since it happened. Just – promise you won't do anything stupid concerning Sweets."

Booth goes very still. "Define stupid."

"Okay." She deliberates for a moment, then clarifies, "Promise you won't do anything to Sweets that could cost you your job."

"I promise." Booth answers quickly and without thinking; it won't do him any good to ponder the implication that she does consider him capable of doing just that. "For God's sake, just tell me, it can't be worse than some of the things I'm imagining right now."

"Sweets claimed that he didn't inform me because he trusted that I could deal with your death thanks to my ability to compartmentalize. I know that I acted like I accepted his explanation, but I never believed it for a second, and I confronted him about it as soon as you were out of earshot."

"You wanted me to believe that you agreed with him? Why?" Booth has no idea what to think any more, and it seems that she notices because she inches closer again.

"In hindsight, I know I should have handled the matter differently, but I'd just been through two of the most difficult weeks of my life, and then everything that happened at your funeral – I was furious, Booth, furious and hurt, and I had no idea how to behave around you or how to interpret my own feelings where you were concerned. I –"

"Hey, it's okay." He reaches for her and is profoundly relieved when she closes the remaining distance between them and rests her head on his shoulder. "I get it, Bones."

He really does – after all, this is the woman who used to run whenever she was forced to deal with the fact that he'd made her feel, and given what she told him about the weeks after his "death", he understands only too well that she was barely holding it together back then. "So there's another reason that Sweets didn't tell you?"

She exhales slowly, and he feels her nod against his shoulder. "He wasn't able to deny it once I confronted him. I know an experiment when I see one, Booth, and that's exactly what it was – an experiment to study my reaction to your death, to witness firsthand how losing you would affect me. We had given him permission to observe us for the book he wanted to write, but there are aspects of our relationship that he wouldn't have been able to study under normal circumstances, so obviously he considered it a good opportunity to… dig deeper."

"Holy shit." Booth finds that he has trouble wrapping his mind around this revelation. He knows that Sweets has a tendency to overstep his boundaries, but to let Bones believe that she'd lost him just to see her reaction – Jesus Christ. He can feel a tight, hard knot of fury forming in his stomach, but there's more to it, an almost nauseating feeling of disgust and the sharp, bitter sting of betrayal. Bones is right, he does like Sweets, and over the past years he has almost begun to regard the kid as some kind of little brother, but it looks like he should have remembered his lifelong experience that little brothers can be real assholes sometimes.

"You promised." It seems that Bones understands only too well what's going on in his mind, and Booth does his best to pull himself together.

"I'm not going to beat him up, if that's what you're worrying about, but – God, Bones, I don't even know what to say."

"It's in the past, Booth," she reminds him calmly. "It can't be undone, and we've dealt with the consequences, even if it took us longer than it should have because I couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth, and I'm sorry about that. That's not the reason I told you about it now, though."

"You're afraid he'll do it again." Booth almost can't believe it took him so long to understand what this is really about. "You're worried that resuming therapy will give Sweets the chance to mess with us again, and that he might come up with something we can't deal with next time."

It takes her a long time to answer, as if she were weighing her words very carefully. "I think Sweets understands that what he did back then was unacceptable, but still – you have to admit that his influence on our personal lives hasn't always been beneficial."

You don't even know half of it, Bones. Booth doesn't say it out loud, but he remembers all too clearly how Sweets waved a brain scan in his face and informed him that his love for Bones was basically the result of brain damage. He has never told her about it, and he's glad that he didn't, but she was there when Sweets did a 180 and challenged him to "be the gambler". It's his own fault that he was stupid enough to listen when he should have known better, but he can see how Bones would consider it another example of the painful results of Sweets' meddling.

Bones is quiet for a long time, and Booth wonders whether she's finally dozing off. There's no way he's going to sleep now – it's probably for the best because his thoughts are a whirling mess, and he doesn't even want to imagine the kind of dreams he might end up having. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down; he'll need to decide upon a way to deal with this, and fretting isn't going to do him any good.

He has almost managed to get a grip when Bones raises her head and states matter-of-factly, "Angela says Sweets has a crush on you."

A split second later, she's blinking owlishly in the sudden light of the bedside lamp. Booth doesn't even remember reaching for it; he just stares at her as if he could still see her words hanging in the air between them.

"What?"

Bones sits up and drapes a sheet around her bare shoulders. "I dismissed the idea too when she first mentioned it, but after she explained to me what she meant, I can't help thinking that some of her arguments seem valid."

Booth wonders for a fleeting moment whether he has fallen asleep after all and is caught up in the middle of a bizarre dream, but unfortunately it sounds too much like something Angela would say. "Bones, in case you've forgotten how we walked in on Sweets canoodling with his girlfriend, the guy is straight."

"I didn't mean to imply that his interest in you is sexually motivated," she answers calmly. "However, he seems very keen on being in close proximity to you – he almost always shows up when we're having lunch at the diner, he insists on being present when you're interrogating suspects, he offers to help with cases and with personal matters without being asked first. It's obvious that your opinion is important to him, and that he wants you to approve of him and rely on him both in your professional and in your private life. Angela claims that he gets a kick out of your attention, so he does what he can to make you focus on him."

Booth can't help thinking that Angela has an awful lot to say on the matter, but he lets it pass. "You realize that I could just as easily claim that he has a crush on you."

She shakes her head. "I believe that when it comes to me, Sweets' interest is truly scientific, as far as psychology can be considered a science. I'm an interesting object to study and to analyze, but he doesn't seek my company or my personal validation like he seeks yours. With you, his interest is personal, and Angela thinks that his personal involvement means he's not objective any more."

"Bones, that's ridiculous – I mean, I consult with Sweets, and sometimes he helps with an interrogation, but he knows damn well that you are my partner and that I'm always going to rely on you first."

"Exactly." She sounds like she has just proven a point, and it takes Booth a moment to get what she means.

"Wait – you're saying that Sweets is jealous of you because I trust you more than I trust him, and that he's somehow… trying to come between us because of that?"

"That's what Angela thinks." Bones gives him a strange look, as if she wants to check whether he's still buying that she's merely reporting Angela's theories. "She doesn't have all the facts about the things that happened between us last year, but Angela is very observant when it comes to interpersonal matters, and she told me that she believes Sweets is subconsciously trying to sabotage all your relationships to ensure his own status in your life. I told her that she has no evidence to substantiate such a generalization, because Sweets seemed very supportive of your relationship with Hannah, but she still insisted that she's right."

Booth bites his lower lip and thinks of all the times Sweets has needled him about Hannah, about going too fast or being certain and whatnot – in hindsight, it seems like some of the things he said back then were spot on, but Angela's theory casts a new, and pretty disturbing light on these moments.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." Bones' expression is difficult to read, and Booth decides to put an end to this madness before he drives himself crazy thinking about it further.

"Okay, so there'll be no more therapy."

"You can't know that," she reminds him reasonably. "If Andrew decides to make us –"

"He won't." Booth does his best to sound certain, even though he's anything but; however, he is certain that he'll find a way to keep Sweets out of their relationship. "Trust me, Bones – Sweets isn't going to come between us."

"I trust you." She moves closer as she says it, and before Booth knows what's happening, he finds himself flat on his back with Bones on top of him. He reaches for her, but she grabs his wrists and pins them to the mattress above his head, effectively trapping him underneath her. Her lips brush his ear when she whispers in a low, throaty tone that almost sounds like she's growling, "And he'd better not, because you're mine."

He stares into her eyes in the dim light of the bedside lamp and sees them narrow with a hungry, almost feral expression that he'd never have thought her capable of. "Mine," she whispers again, and the possessive tone sends a sharp spike of arousal through him that makes him forget he's pushing forty and exhausted as hell. She grinds her hips into his and grins when she feels him stir between them; once more she whispers Mine, but this time it's against his lips, and Booth just manages to answer Yours before her mouth is on his. He knows that it's true, that he might just as well have 'Property of Temperance Brennan' tattooed on his ass – because he could run away to the ends of the world, to war and into the arms of another woman, but it has always been her to whom all roads led back to.

She kisses him like she wants to devour him, and Booth wrenches his wrists out of her grasp and pulls her hips towards him. He feels rather than hears the moan deep in her throat; she's rocking into him until he can feel her wet and slippery against him, and it's his turn to moan when she draws herself up on her knees and then sinks down again, impaling herself on him in one single, flowing movement. He reaches up, pulling her close and flipping them over so that he's on top of her. She makes a low, content sound that reminds him of a purring cat – he once would have expected a woman like Bones to prefer being on top at all times, but by now he knows that one should never assume anything when it comes to Temperance Brennan.

He doesn't bother to brace himself on his elbows when he pushes into her. She once told him that she likes having him on top of her because it makes her feel like he's everywhere, like her whole world consists of nothing but him, and he keeps it in mind as he sets the hard, punishing rhythm she likes so much. She hooks her heels behind his calves and tilts her hips up to meet his thrusts, and Booth speeds up the pace and feels her tightening around him as her nails dig into his shoulders and her teeth scrape the side of his neck. They'll both have the marks to show for this moment tomorrow, but right now he doesn't care, doesn't even think of holding back as he thrusts into her, letting her feel his full weight, his full strength because she can take it, can take him.

She cries out his name when she comes, and the way her whole body clenches around him sends him straight over the edge as well in a single, blinding flash of white-hot pleasure. He collapses on top of her, so out of breath that his head is swimming, and barely manages to roll off her before his exhaustion catches up with him. She pulls the covers over them and reaches across the bed to switch off the bedside lamp, and Booth murmurs "Yours, Bones" against the skin of her shoulder once more before he finally gives in to the warm, welcoming darkness.