Disclaimer: Do not own nor profit from Bones.

A/N: Long day at work so posting was hanging by a thread, but a countdown is a countdown, dammit! So here we go...hoping fic enthusiasm pics up a little as we get closer to the premiere. Enjoy!

Crash My Party—Luke Bryan

"Hello?"

Even through the phone line, Brennan could hear rowdy voices in the background.

"Booth."

"Bones, hey."

"Who is that? C'mon, Booth, it's your turn to buy the beers."

"Am I interrupting?"

"No," he replied quickly. "No…just, a little goodbye party for one of the guys. He's transferring to Chicago."

"Oh."

Booth cleared his throat. "Are you still at work?"

"Yes."

He groaned softly. "It's pretty late." His voice was sweetly gentle. "You know I hate it when you work yourself into exhaustion."

"I'm leaving the lab now. I thought …" Her voice wavered uncertainly for a moment. "I thought perhaps I would come to your apartment, but since—"

"Yes." The word shot out quickly. "Come over."

"But you're not home." Her tone was clearly puzzled.

"I will be." He stood up from the bar stool. "I'm leaving right now."

"Guys, Booth is leaving!"

"What? Why? Who's he talking to?"

Booth didn't bother to reply.

"His bone lady." An amused chuckle.

"Are you sure?" Brennan's soft voice.

"Yes." Booth shot a killer glare at the group of men now congregated around him. "I'll be home in fifteen, okay? I'll meet you there, yes?"

"Very well. See you soon."

"Yeah," he smiled foolishly before hanging up the phone and facing the smirking faces around him. "What?"

"Oh man, you're so whipped."

"Aw, cut him some slack," someone defended with a wicked grin. "Have you seen Dr. Brennan? I'd be whipped too if I was going home to her."

His partnership with Brennan was wildly successful and satisfying. Which meant also widely scrutinized and in the good old FBI there was no shortage of smart-ass comments and mostly good natured ribbing. Over the years, Booth had perfected the art of rolling his eyes and shrugging it off. The action was usually accompanied by an equally bland, "Nah, it's not like that."

For years. No, it's not like that. We're just partners. So many years that the words nearly tripped out of his mouth again. But …as of precisely a week and 4 days ago, it was exactly like that. And it was fucking amazing. And Booth could hardly believe that she was leaving work and coming home to him. And he could hold her and kiss her and watch her sip wine before going to bed.

"Good luck in Chicago," Booth told Agent Miller with a handshake. "Watch your six out there in that goddamn permanent winter."

"Thanks, Booth." Miller chuckled. "And don't worry. I'm a Chicago boy, I'll survive the winter."

"C'mon, Booth…the night's not over," a slightly drunk Agent Holt piped in as Booth said his goodbyes. "Your bone lady's hot but you can't just bail on us now."

Booth ignored him. "Make sure Holt doesn't drive home," he called out to the group on his way to the door.

Wicked laughter and a small chorus of catcalls followed him out the bar, not that Booth cared. He was driving home to his partner. It struck him that he hadn't seen her all day. God, he had to see her now.

-x-

She was waiting against his front door, a sleepy look on her face.

Booth smiled as he walked to her. "Hey."

"Hi," she said softly.

He ran his knuckles gently over her cheek. "You overworked again." Her lashes lowered in slight acknowledgement but she didn't say anything. Booth sighed softly, and took her hand as he opened the door. "C'mon, I got that wine you like."

After they settled in, Booth poured her a big glass of wine and watched as she drank with a happy sigh. His focused gaze made Brennan lift her shoulders in a little questioning shrug. "What?"

Booth just shook his head with a slight smile. "Nothing." He moved closer, feeling drawn to her like a magnet. With a fingertip, he stroked her cheek. "I'm glad you called."

Her gaze lowered, unexpectedly shy; a natural by-product of this new territory they were trying to navigate. "I was unaware you weren't home." Her fingers circled unconsciously around the stem of her empty wine glass. "I didn't mean to interrupt your plans for the—"

"Hey," he cut in quietly, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. "Don't worry about it. You can interrupt, Bones." His arms circled her waist and he dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "Anytime, okay? I don't care where I am or what I'm doing, you can interrupt."

Brennan smiled slowly, arms lifting to wind around his neck. "I can?"

Her soft tone and pleased smile made his stomach clench and his heart pound. "Yeah," he murmured hoarsely against her lips. "I always wanna see you." With every word, his mouth brushed hers. "See you and talk to you and kiss you."

"Me too, Booth," she confessed, her fingers curling through his hair as she pressed closer and returned his sweet kisses.

With a soft groan of pleasure, Booth lifted her and carried her to bed. She dropped tiny kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth, her hands caressing softly along his nape. But her lashes fluttered and he could see she was tired and sleepy, so he simply stripped her and slid her into bed. He removed his clothes too but kept his boxers on because he only had so much self-control.

Brennan wrapped herself around him with a soft murmur of pleasure. One feminine thigh slid over his and her arm draped around his waist. Even though she was half asleep, her mouth pressed against his and she kissed him deeply. Booth couldn't help sliding a hand to her bottom and pressing her tight into him, his tongue sweeping out and tasting that delicious flavor that was her mixed with red wine.

She moaned softly, a sleepy, almost kittenish sound as she snuggled into his arms and fell asleep. He dropped a kiss atop her head and smiled, knowing he was in so deep with no way out but unable to care.

From the start, she was always the one woman who could make him drop everything and come running. Throughout the years, she had called him during the day, in the dead of night, when he was lonely, when he was with someone else. Sometimes he'd been doing nothing, sometimes he'd been working. She'd called him for lunch, for dinner, breakfast, brunch …just to talk, to say hi, to vent, to apologize, to comfort, to make sure he was alright. And always seeing her name on his phone made his heart race, made whatever he was doing not as important, whoever he was with not as interesting. And whatever else had happened between them, that had never changed. And it never would.

He was happy to spend the rest of his life running home to her.