A/N This first chapter is set right after "The intern in the incinerator" (3x06).

This is my very first attempt of writing fanfiction! Feel free to leave a review, I'd be glad to get your feedback. Please bear in mind that English is not my first language. so if you find mistakes, please let me know - I'm always happy to learn.

Oh, and I do not own Bones...

Brennan's head was spinning. She tried to lift it from the pillow but it felt as if a strong force gently pulled her back. She was locked to the bed. It took her a while to realize that she was in her apartment, in her bedroom and in her own bed. Very slowly, one after another, her senses started to appear again.

Sense of touch.

Her body was aching. She had a feeling as if something kept hammering against her forehead - frontal bone - and her temporal bone from the inside. Her limbs felt numb. She sensed the linen of her sheets somehow nestled around her legs. The cotton of an unbuttoned white shirt on her skin, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Something silky around her wrists - loosely tied together.

Hearing.

She perceived a muffled ringing inside her ears. Some distant traffic noise. It seemed to be quite early, otherwise the noise would have been far more intense.

Gustatory sense.

Her mouth felt dry and all she could recognize was the taste of whisky.

Olfactory sense.

The air was somehow staled and thick. With every heavy breath she took she inhaled the smell of strong alcohol - most likely whisky and sweat. The fine cotton of the shirt had something musky to it and another familiar smell. She knew it, but she couldn't put her finger on it. And there was something else that was - even to her - indescribable. Yet nevertheless she knew immediately, what it was: Sex.

Sense of vision.

Finally, she was able to focus her vision on certain particulars. First thing she noticed was the soft twilight from the streetlights that was shining through her bedroom curtains. She lifted her head and noticed that the silky thing around her wrists was a tie. She rolled over to lie on the back and slowly managed to put herself into a sitting position and - still not able to put the parts fo the puzzle together - let her unbiased gaze wander through the room. Among the empty bottles of whiskey and tequila, clothes were scattered everywhere over the floor. Suit pants, a jacket, some pair of striped socks. The ringing in her head became louder and louder, she squinted, lowered her head and slightly massaged the spot between her eyes. Lifting her hands, she took a closer look at the tie. Brennan had seen it before - it was black, with a little ornament in the middle.

Suddenly she felt as if she instantly sobered up. They were back: her extraordinary abilities to compartmentalize and being completely rational. Evidence, Temperance, she thought to herself. You need more evidence. Her breath fastened as she slowly eyeballed the striped socks again. She looked for the suit pants and then she saw it: the belt buckle. Cocky.

Oh no, she thought and swallowed. Then, very quietly, she hissed: "Booth?"

No answer.

Right now she felt terribly drunk again. Her mouth was so dry, her head was still spinning and she was unable to think clearly. Before she could keep looking for her partner any further, she definitely needed something to drink. With clumsy fingers she freed a single hand from the bond around her wrist. It was still bound to the other one, but she didn't care. She tried to get up very cautiously and as she leaned forward to get out of the bed, she found him: Lying on the floor besides the bed - mostly naked as far as she could tell, a linen bedsheet wrapped around his lower body, deep enough to expose the „V" his muscles created right above the hips. Brennan let that sight sink in for a minute. As an anthropologist it was perfectly fine to admire a well structured body, she thought to her inebriated self. Then again, she noticed the dryness in her mouth and got up to get some water. She staggered as careful as she could into her kitchen and drank directly from the running tap. She took a bottle of water out of the fridge and scurried back to her bedroom while she tried to figure out her next step in this mess.

"Booth." She kneeled besides him. „He Booth." No reaction. He looked very peaceful. Was he even breathing?! Brennan took his wrist to check his pulse. Exhale. Relief. At least he was alive.

"Booth, I need you to wake up!" She gently tapped his chest. He grumbled uncomfortably and stretched out a little, then he took her hand into his, smiled and slept on. Sigh. She pulled her hand back and shook him a little, but he just rolled over and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Come back to bed baby, relax…", he mumbled.

Awkward… Brennan took a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling, praying to a Lord she didn't even believe in.

"BOOTH!" She really needed him to wake up. „Come on now!" He opened his eyes. Staring at the body he held in his arms, he tried to figure out what just had happened. He inhaled, he exhaled, he looked up. Pale skin, waves of auburn framing a fine delicate face, gorgeous lips and penetrating steel blue eyes. He softly smiled. What a wonderful dream. Despite the fact that his back and head hurt awfully and his naked body was freezing, he felt as if he just had a Marian apparition and was about to get lost in those beautiful eyes, when she raised a single eyebrow, awaiting a reaction. Those eyes. Those auburn wa…

…

"Holy smoke BONES!" he yelled and jumped up as he came to his senses. "What are you doing here? Where are my clo…"

He checked his surroundings for a rational explanation to this.

"Booth, calm down. Sit." She sat on the bed, cross-legged and handed him the bottle of water. She figured he might need it and assumed right.

He sat beside her and downed the water, feeling just as terrible and boozed up as her.

"Why are you wearing my boxers?! What happened?"