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So my teenage daughter and I have been watching Season 5, (re-watching for me and the first time for her) which IMO is one of the best seasons of Bones. This one shot was inspired by The Dwarf in the Dirt.

Crazy

Booth sighed as he stared at his naked self in the mirror that morning. The case was solved, they had put the murderer away. He had recertified as an FBI marksman with flying colors. Everything should feel right, except it didn't.

"See, , when a man can't have the woman that he loves he gets a bit crazy."

The words he had said to the victim's sister-in-law resonated in his head. When he had spoken them, he hadn't been referring to himself, and yet he subconsciously has been. It wasn't apparent at the time but that night after dinner with his partner at Gordon Gordon's fancy restaurant and the effect she had on him at the FBI shooting range, he realized that he had spoken out of his own experience.

Sighing loudly again, Booth shook his head, chuckling almost bitterly at himself in the mirror. He was that man, the man who couldn't have the woman he loved and it was driving him nuts, crazy, looney, insane. He was miserable and he was in love. When he had first woken from his coma dream, he had been confused for days. He had kept thinking Brennan was his wife. But as time passed he remembered and accepted that that was only a dream and nothing more. The beautiful woman whom he had spent almost every day with for the past five years was not his wife but his partner, nothing more. He wanted more. He wanted that life he had dreamt about in his coma, with her. What was ironic was that he had come to understand that the dream came about because she had been reading from a book she had written.

She had to have wanted that life too. Why would she write a book about them being married and about to start a family if she too didn't want it?

Trying to steer his thoughts away from futile ruminations, he went about getting ready for the day. Teeth brushed he again stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Using his palm, he rubbed the stubble on his chin. He wasn't in the mood to shave but FBI regulations mandated he had to. He sprayed on a generous amount of shaving cream on his palm, then spread it over his chin and upper lip. Turning on the faucet, he heard the familiar groan of pipes, characteristic of his old apartment. Booth was a man who loved traditions, Pops had brought him up that way. He wasn't an electric shaver kind of guy, he loved the feel of the razor against his skin.

His task quickly accomplished, he rinsed the razor under running water, then wiped off any remnants of shaving cream with a towel. Satisfied that he was clean shaven and that regulations would be happy, Booth quirked himself a cocky grin. He was a good looking man, in great shape and he knew it. Why was it then that his partner didn't seem to be attracted to him?

It was a question he had no answer for. Or perhaps she was attracted to him? But even if she was, her attraction to him would have been only physical. She didn't love him, he had told Gordon Gordon that. He would have known if she was in love with him, like he was with her. When it came to her, he knew it had to more than that, more than just a physical relationship. He remembered her deer in the headlights look when he had told her he loved her.

He had quickly back-pedaled and averted a potential disaster. He had known her long enough to know that if he hadn't added "in an atta girl kinda way" she would have retreated into her hyperrational shell and he could have lost her friendship. He knew that if he couldn't have her love, then he had to make do with her friendship.

His head understood by his heart didn't. Knowing that he was in love with her but not being able to do anything about it, especially after he had glimpsed what they could have in his coma dream was pure torture. Every moment he spent with her reminded him of what he wanted but could not have.

His cellphone rang and he hurried out of the bathroom, answering his phone.

"Booth we have a case. A body was found." Her voice felt like sweet nectar to his ears.

"Right."

"I'm at the lab."

"At the lab? This early? Bones did you even go home last night?"

"I may have gotten a little carried away working on a paper I'm intending to get published."

"A little? Bones… did you even have breakfast yet?"

"No."

"Alright look, I'm gonna swing by and we'll stop by the diner on the way to the crime scene to get some breakfast. After you're done at the crime scene I'm driving you home and you're gonna get some sleep."

"But Booth we have a case."

"Yeah but it'll take a couple of hours for the techs to get everything shipped back to the Jeffersonian anyway."

"Fine."

"Great, I'm on my way."

Booth hung up, buoyed by the knowledge that he would be seeing her soon. He quickly got dressed. Everything about her these days gave his heart a little tug. The way she walked, how her shapeless Jeffersonian jumpsuit made her look hot, the smell of her hair, her smile, the list could go on and on. As he pulled on his suit jacket and pulled the door to his apartment close behind him, he grinned ruefully to himself. He was hopelessly in love with her.

He inhaled deeply, reminding himself to keep his emotions in check. Gordon Gordon had told him would need hope and patience. For now, they could only be partners, nothing more. For now, he would be patient, for now he hoped. Someday soon, he desperately hoped, his coma dream could become reality. He knew for the sake of his own sanity it had to.

This sounded a lot less angsty in my head.