Author's note: Life has been busy. Here's a bit of B&B fluff/smut - AU, because that's how I roll. You can tell I got carried away with this one. Kind words and feedback are most welcome!

(Side note: I love reading fics where Booth calls Brennan 'baby'. Lots play on the idea of her finding it annoying, and it's a point of contention. In my personal headcannon, though she's never understood the term of endearment, when Booth says it to her, she loves it because somehow it feels very, very right.)

It's still new; this evolution from friends into something that has nothing to do with labels and everything to do with love.

He's discovered (but hell, he's always suspected) that she looks like something out of a goddamn fairytale in the early hours. It's an indulgence of his, watching her as he wakes up, and truth be told, he wonders whether it's bordering on the realm of creepy - how his body knows to stir from its slumber minutes before hers does, as if a biological pact exists allowing him a few quiet minutes of sunlight and her.

Turning his head, he takes her in. Her hair spills over the pillow, the ends tickling his shoulder. One bare leg is thrown haphazardly over the covers, smooth skin dappled with flecks of the first rays of sunrise filtering in through the blinds. He studies the elegant contours of her face; the line of her jaw, the slight upturn of her nose, her lips, plump and slightly parted. Features he knows as well as his own, having spent five years sneaking stolen glances at her, over pie and bones old and new and many other things in between. (His subtlety had worn very thin toward the end - at least according to Cam. 'I'm glad,' she'd smirked at him when he'd finally clued her in over drinks a couple of weeks ago, tipping her glass of Sauvignon Blanc in his direction. 'The puppy eyes you were making at her were getting more pathetic by the day.')

Now that his eyes are free to roam, they do so unapologetically, and he's spent the last few weeks drinking in new knowledge, committing every inch of her face (and more, god, so much more) to memory, learning the history behind every scar, every mark that makes Bones, Bones. He's fascinated by it all; faintest of indentations on her cheeks from her year of battling more than her fair share of teen acne, the smattering of freckles dusting her nose, brought out by the summer sun. It never seems to be enough. He will never tire of knowing her so intimately.

His hand finds hers under the covers and her fingers instinctively interlace with his.

For a few minutes - between ten and twenty; certainly not half an hour - he drifts in and out, lulled by the faint thrum of traffic and the indescribable scent of her that permeates his bed. When he finally opens his eyes again, she's blinking sleepily up at the ceiling, smacking her lips. Not quite awake yet, he thinks, gently running the pad of his thumb along the inside of her forearm to get her attention.

Unfocused blue eyes meet his, eyebrows furrowed in a squint until she registers where she is and that it's morning; that she's in his home, tangled in his sheets. A whisper of a smile graces her features and she rolls into him, laying her head on his bare chest, snaking an arm around his torso.

'Good mornin', Bones.'

'Hmmph,' she grumbles against his skin.

'Not so sure about the 'good' there, huh?'

'I find this morning to be much more than just 'good', like most of our mornings as of late,' the heat of her breath and the flutter of her lips brushing against his collarbone causes his hand to grasp her hip possessively, almost of its own volition, '… and that in itself is a problem.'

'Problem?' he pinches her ass playfully, eliciting a giggle followed by a sharp nip to his shoulder.

'Admittedly that may not quite be the best turn of phrase…but you're making it increasingly difficult to want to get out of bed.'

'Sounds terrible,' he rolls her underneath him, leaning up on his forearms and dipping his head down to drop kisses over a particularly delicious spot on her neck, enjoying the feeling of her quivering in anticipation. 'I'm so sorry.' Kiss. 'Truly.' Kiss. 'I cannot apologize enough.'

'I've never been what you call a 'morning person', but this is getting ridiculous. You are ridiculous,' she attempts to whine, but it ends in a throaty laugh. 'I need to go to work-'

'You really think we couldn't just, like, you know…,' his lips trail down her sternum, one hand coming up to stroke at the underside of her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple, '…play hooky today, or something?'

She's writhing underneath him now, and he grins. 'Bones?'

'Mmm?'

'You're not listening to me,' he palms her breast, bringing his mouth to it, teeth grazing and sucking at flesh. Her legs part beneath him on the mattress and she cants her hips upwards into his own, her body instinctively seeking out his.

'What were you saying again?' she pants, one hand clutching at his neck, pulling at his hair as releases her nipple with a pop and starts kissing his way down her stomach.

'I was saying,' he smirks into her hip, 'that we could always play hooky today.'

Her eyes snap open. 'I am not missing a full day of work,' blue irises stare him down, eyes narrowing as her brow furrows, but he can see her fighting to hide her amusement. '…Again. That would be twice in one week that I've played truant, so to speak. People will think I've lost my extremely well-developed sense of self-discipline.'

'Hmm, I suppose you are right,' he murmurs against the apex of her thighs. She melts back into the mattress with a breathy, animalistic 'fuck', curling her fingers even tighter into his hair as he nuzzles just to the right of where she needs him most. She's wet and wanting, and he drags one finger through her heat, delicately. Feather light. In response, she arches up into his touch with a guttural groan that travels straight to his dick.

He almost hates himself for what he's about to do next. But really - he thinks as he bites back laughter - sometimes? He just loves riling her up.

'Well,' he rises abruptly, stepping away from the bed and heading for the bathroom. 'Looks like we're gonna be late enough as it is. C'mon, Bones, chop chop!'

He chances a glimpse in the mirror in time to see her head whip up off the mattress, breasts heaving, her face the picture of indignation. 'Are you-'

'I call dibs on the shower!' Waggling his eyebrows, he shuts the door.

Within seconds she's let herself in, naked as the day she was born. 'Seriously?' she hisses, and he stifles another laugh as she all but stamps her foot. 'You can't just leave me there like that, Booth!'

'Like what?'

'Like- close to-,' she gestures at his own - very much still hard - situation. 'Why are you deliberately withholding sex when you've gone to the trouble of making us both extremely aroused?'

'Extremely, huh?' he can't help the shit-eating grin that creeps up on his face.

'Booth!'

'You said you didn't want to miss work,' he schools his expression into something resembling innocence, but struggles to keep his voice even. 'I'm just helping you out, here.'

'Wh-'

'You could be a little more grateful, you know-'

She blinks. He can almost feel her brain short-circuiting. 'You- absolutely not! No!' she grabs his hand, attempts to yank him back into the bedroom. 'You come here and- and-' she clicks her fingers impatiently at him, '-finish what you started.'

He makes a show of sighing, running a hand over his eyes, peeking at her through the gaps of his fingers. 'You sure, Bones? 'Cuz I don't really want to make us late for work-'

'You won't if we're quick-'

'-that traffic at Dupont Circle is pretty-'

'-orgasm denial is hardly going to make either of our days productive-'

'-and you know, then we need to factor in time for a coffee stop-'

'Booth!' she mewls, nipping at his jaw. Her teeth drag across his pulse, and he nearly loses it right there, because he can't get enough of her like this; passionate, feral - cool logic and rationality temporarily abandoned. She stands on her tiptoes and winds her arms around his neck, strong and warm, trying to drag him forwards. 'Come on! Back to bed for just a little while longer!'

He dips down to kiss her, smiling against her mouth. 'I mean, if you insist.'

When he pulls away, she's staring at him, and he knows it's clicked.

'You were messing with me, weren't you?'

'Maybe, maybe, baby,' he singsongs, peppering her face with kisses as his hands curl around her upper arms, walking her backwards towards the bed. Her laugh reverberates through the room, turning into a squeal as they flop down on the mattress. 'Just getting you back for that 'problem' comment.'

She pouts, but it turns into that secret smile of hers - the shy, lopsided grin that makes his brain go IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. 'Upon further consideration, I think it's acceptable for us to occasionally indulge in a late start at our respective workplaces.'

'Wow.'

'If you consider the amount of times cases have eaten into our weekends, and our evenings,' she hooks one leg around his calf rolling them so that she's on top, 'I think we have accumulated enough overtime that we can permit ourselves to take our time...'

He half-gasps, as she grinds down, rubbing herself against the length of his dick sinfully slowly. 'Yeah?'

'I'm sure I can run a more detailed mathematical calculation should we need to provide justification for any late arrivals,' she leans down and purrs into his ear. 'Now, where were we?'