AN: For those who also follow The Bard, I'm sorry. It just wasn't flowing this week and I didn't want to post garbage (trust me, it was bad). This week should be the magic week, I hope. No, I promise.

Back to this story... Um, so I made a bunch of you cry/feel very sad with the last chapter. I'm overwhelmed with the response to the last chapter and am so glad you felt it was a realistic explanation of how we went from "One person you love the most" to "Marry me, Hannah." Some of you also really liked that Brennan kind of gave him a verbal slap for his words and actions, which is awesome. Brennan hurt him in season five, but never like that. It was such a cruel thing to say and yet hopeful and wonderful to realize that Booth knew he loved her most...

Season six. All the goddamn feels and angst.

Anyway, I figured we all needed a respite from the angst (I did!) so we're going to play in flirty fluffy land. This one goes out to NCISVILLE, who's one of my biggest cheerleaders and also asked once upon a time for me to do a "What happened next?" for this episode for my Bites series of one-shots. Enjoy, lovely!

Tag To: Stargazer In A Puddle

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, nor do I own Billy Gibbons, ZZ Top or "Gimme All Your Lovin'". No infringement intended and all that.

Gimme All Your Lovin' (ZZ Top)

"Why is the minister staring at us still?"

I glanced over and caught yet another mischievous glance cast at my partner and I. "No idea, Bones." I handed another straggler the directions to the reception and shrugged. "Did Angela answer you yet?"

Bones nodded a greeting at a passing guest. "No, she hasn't. Ms. Julian knows the impetus behind their departure. Shall we put the bolts to her?"

"Screws, Bones. And yes, I think that's a great idea."

Ten minutes ago, we'd been left at the altar by Hodgins and Angela, who'd bailed on their own wedding and invited their guests to proceed to the reception as scheduled. Whatever the reasons, they had to be huge: Zack mentioned something about the government and conspiracies, and considering that he was as rational as his supervisor, there was some merit in his rambling. That, and the guy I vaguely recognized from the Hoover showing up dropping words like 'imperative'.

The thought of merit brought me back to the kid's letter, and I found myself struggling to find the words I'd soon need. I'd skimmed it quickly during the confusion and clearing of the church, enough to know that his comments about duty and honour were as ominous as the return address on the envelope. Fuck, Iraq... What was he thinking? True, he wasn't a soldier, but he would be in a war zone, exposed to horrors no one should see. It felt like a big damn plunge from Mama Bird's nest to prove he could fly. Of course, I couldn't explain it that way to Bones. I sighed, scanning the church once more to ensure all had departed. Times like these were when I wished to God that my partner had at least a basic appreciation of colloquialisms.

"I see Caroline!" Bones called out, storming down the steps of the church.

I followed quickly, knowing that my partner had a talent for pissing the prosecutor off. And when Caroline was pissed, she was a spiteful woman – and that meant no secret information on why we'd been left holding the damn bag.

"Dr. Brennan, why are you stalking me to my damn car?" Caroline snapped, spinning around and proving yet again that she had eyes in the back of her head.

"I wasn't stalking. I was attempting to catch up to – you weren't being literal," Brennan concluded sheepishly.

"Oh no, I meant every word! Don't make me haul out a restraining order and do not keep me from the open bar at that reception, because the Good Lord knows I need a drink!" Caroline shook her head and glared at me. "Yes, Cher?"

"What happened?" I asked. "Zack said the government was involved. Has to be pretty big."

"Is that what you're on about? Look, Agent Booth: you wanna know? Ask the blushing bride-not-to-be."

Bones' face blanched. "Did they break up?"

Her concern pulled every string of my weary heart. She'd seemed cool and collected – still did. But for a moment, she'd revealed a glimmer of disappointment. She really wants them to work out.

Caroline threw up her hands. "No! Fine, but this is confidential between us three, and I will deny to the grave that this conversation ever took place." Pausing for dramatic effect, she whispered, "Angela is apparently already married."

My jaw went slack and for a moment, I swore I'd have to push it back into place with my hand. Angela was already married? To who? When? And why hadn't she said anything before?

"This is why marriage is an archaic and problematic institution," Bones said. "If she'd never married in the first place, nor considered a second marriage, the laws would not be creating this rather awkward and expensive set of circumstances."

"What? How do you do that?"

"Do what, Booth?"

"Turn everything into an argument against everything romantic, loving or... or Catholic!"

My blood pressure was creeping higher and while a somewhat sane part of me was aware that I was taking things too personally – that this was Bones and I should have expected nothing less – the looming duty of divulging Zack's destination was my personal Sword of Damocles and the threads were about to snap. Luckily, Caroline decided to save my ass.

"Enough! The couple is fine. The booze is paid for. Why aren't we there yet? Oh, right: you two –" At this, she jabbed a finger into each of our chests with ferocity. "– are having an anthro-theological smackdown! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drive my crappy little car to the oasis. Stay here on your personal Sahara and perish, or join me."

I chuckled in spite of myself and immediately clamped my hand over my mouth in terror as Caroline glared. With a decisive slam of her car door, she turned over the engine, coaxing her beater car back to life.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Bones said quietly.

"I know. Did you bring your car?"

"Angela and I took the limo."

"C'mon Bones, you're coming with me then."

She followed silently, head ever-so-slightly down-turned. I knew that posture of hers and felt terrible for the entire twenty seconds it took to reach the SUV. How did I always manage to upset her?

Oh, right: I have a habit of forgetting that her stoic expression and scientific jargon were her way of forcing the sensitive woman within to cower in a secret cave, safe from the rest of the world.

"Hey, Bones, wait," I muttered, cutting ahead of her and blocking the passenger door.

Her eyes raised, but wouldn't meet mine. "What, Booth?"

My hand reached out for her cheek and lifted her chin. "Please don't be upset. You did nothing wrong, alright?"

"I'm well aware that your views of marriage are more traditional than mine, and while that doesn't invalidate my perspective, I find that it is wiser to sometimes quietly respect differences. This was one such case where that would have been best."

"Look, Bones: just because we argue about these things doesn't mean I want you to shut up or pretend you agree with me," I replied.

"I wouldn't do that," she protested. "But we have larger concerns right now, like Angela and Hodgins' state of being."

That was true enough. All the same, I flashed her my trademarked grin, the one I knew she saw through, yet always roped her in against her will. "You're right this time, Bones. Just don't let it be a habit. I mean, who else is gonna argue with me 'til my blood pressure's through the roof?"

She chuckled and slapped lightly at my arm. "Booth!"

"That's my girl!" I enthused, pulling open her door. "Now get in! I need a drink and to ditch this damn tie."

It wasn't until I'd made it around to my side that I rewound my last words and inwardly winced. You called her your girl? Girl? As if it wasn't unprofessional enough, you chose girl over woman or lady? Apparently, I was on a mission to drive her away for another year. Arresting her father, pissing her off, and oh yeah, I get to drop the Zack bomb on her. Lovely.

Drawing a deep breath, I slid into the driver's seat and cranked the engine. Maybe she hadn't heard me, or maybe she'd understood that it was just a phrase people used... Oh, who was I kidding? Bones and slang were an open can of gasoline and a pack of matches hanging out in a room of pure oxygen. My hand adjusted the rear view mirror, sneaking a peek at her face. She seemed relaxed enough.

Hmm. Looked like I'd be paying later, not now. I could live with that.

"Mind if I turn on music?"

"Not at all. I'm going to try texting Angela again."

"Just don't tell her we know! I'm not dealing with Caroline," I cautioned her.

"I'm not an idiot, Booth! Trust me."

After flipping a few stations and finding nothing but crap, I switched to the mix CD I'd had going on the drive over. It was mostly rock, which would probably not bother Bones much. I smiled at the sudden memory of rocking out in her living room last year and hummed along as a Foo Fighters track blasted through the speakers.

"What's this?" my partner asked.

"Foo Fighters. You know them?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't know this song."

"Bones, you really need to listen to radio more often. 'Everlong' is one of their biggest singles!"

"Angela says the same thing," she replied, rolling her eyes. "It's not my fault I'm busy with work."

"Can't listen to music and work?" I asked.

"Not usually. Sometimes, if I stay overnight to work on remains, I play classical music for the caretaker staff."

I glanced over at her, frustrated. "Bones, what have I told you about the all-nighters? You need rest. You deserve rest. Isn't there an anthropological rationale for proper downtime and recreation?"

Her eyes twinkled as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you certain you wish to employ anthropology against me in a debate?"

No, I definitely wasn't going there. "Yeah, never mind."

Traffic was surprisingly tame for a Saturday afternoon, not that it mattered much. The church was fifteen blocks from the Jeffersonian, where Hodgins had pulled rank via Cantilever and booked a last-minute reception. He'd even managed to arrange for exclusive use of the gardens during typical public visitor hours, never mind the entire wing of the Natural Museum that was normally reserved for in-house functions. I knew a lot more than I cared to about the workings of the Jeffersonian now, having been my partner's arm candy to several events she attended out of obligation.

For example, I knew the booze would be top shelf, meaning I was hitting the good ol' Johnnnie Walker Blue tonight. My pay grade would never afford it, but on someone else's dime? Make it a double... and then another.

I also knew that my partner had the ability to delegate her prime parking space to my vehicle on request, and while Hodgins had arranged decent spaces for the wedding guests, the spot I swung into on arrival was still closer to the reception area.

"You told them overnight, right?"

"Of course. I would never allow you to drive after drinking."

Her hand reached for her door and I immediately jammed the automatic lock button. "What do you think you're doing?"

She was clearly annoyed. "Getting out!"

"Nuh-uh, no way. Not today."

"Booth – "

"I promised Angela I'd escort you properly. Don't make me piss off Angela, Bones. She's scary."

"I'm going to kill her," she grumbled.

"Yeah, well, until you succeed with one of your ten martial arts or whatever, let me open the damn door."

I hurried around the front of the car, making a note to myself to advise Angela of what she'd supposedly ordered me to do. This was all me, and yeah, maybe I was imposing my values on my partner, but she deserved a little special attention after recent events. With a flourish and a bow, I opened her door and reached for her hand.

"Dr. Brennan."

With a huff, she placed her hand in mine and I took everything into overdrive, winking at her to ensure she knew I was being intentionally over-the-top. She smirked in acknowledgment, thankfully amused by my fake "rich man voice" and talk of the "Washington Brennans" being dear friends of mind.

The reception was in full swing upon our arrival, the many baffled guests having decided that free food and booze was a great way to spend a Saturday no matter what the circumstances. Immediately, I noticed Zack had skipped the reception. Hopefully, Bones would take that as an expected decision from her intern and not ask any questions I really didn't want to answer today.

"It's amazing what money can pull off on zero notice."

"Hodgins isn't a snob," she chided me. "Everything he does is for Angela. She wanted to marry quickly. He made it happen."

"I know, Bones. It's just... I didn't grow up around this, you know?"

"Neither did I."

I nodded. "Yeah, but you've been dragged to events like this by work many times. You've adjusted."

She smiled. "That's true. You've also adjusted. You didn't even take off your tie in the car as you claimed you would."

"Crap!" I tugged absently on it, suddenly annoyed by its presence. "Can I stuff it in your purse?"

"No!" She grinned, pointing towards the bar. "Maybe you can get me drunk and I'll agree in a moment of weakness."

"So tequila shots, then? On it," I replied, hurrying away.

"Booth! Booth, don't you dare!"

Bones was a beautiful woman, naturally so. Dressed up as she was today, she was stunning, and I looked forward to days like these in anticipation of her radiance. But with her dressier attire came an added bonus: Bones couldn't walk very quickly in heels. I left her in my proverbial dust, protesting and pleading as I darted around people I didn't recognize to reach the bar. I didn't order tequila shots, although I DID get my double of the Blue and a glass of Bones' favourite white wine.

Why did I even bring up tequila?

Tequila was a loaded subject... Too many memories. God, what the hell was going on with me today? Maybe the hits Max threw did some brain damage.

"Booooth!" my partner whined, joining me. "You left me!"

I passed her the wine and shrugged. "So? You weren't keen on being escorted, even though Angela ordered me to."

Her cheeks flushed as she sipped her glass. "Maybe I don't mind," she murmured.

My heart came to a dead stop. "Huh?"

"Well, you're my friend," she said softly. "I know you don't really think of me as weak or a lesser person. It would be like... going undercover."

And bam! Instant hard on as the thought of Roxie came to mind, and with it, the cavalier sexual charisma of Tony.

"Let's have fun," I whispered conspiratorially.

With a clink of our glasses, the deal was sealed.

A solid 75% of the guests were complete strangers to Bones and I, which made the whole "undercover game" hilarious. We kept our own names, although Bones introduced herself simply as "Temperance" to those she didn't know. We toyed with people, referring to ours as a "mutually beneficial relationship" and dropping the term "consorts", reveling in the raised eyebrows and intrigue. When Bones left to use the washroom, I couldn't help but plant the seed that she was royalty with a small group of elitists I determined were directors at Cantilever.

"I'm her bodyguard," I explained. "She refuses the appropriate security personnel as a matter of routine, but I've earned her trust over the years. Her parents are displeased, but they know I'll ensure her safe return."

"Oh my goodness! Have you faced many threats, Mister...?" one woman asked.

"Kevin," I replied with a straight face. "And yes, we have, but I have a wealth of skills that I employ successfully."

It was all I could do not to tip my hand and call Bones "Whitney".

Several rounds in, we'd found ourselves at our table, watching Cam hit on a guy Bones knew to be acquainted with Billy Gibbons, although how she knew this, she was reluctant to disclose. She simply muttered "Vegas" and left it at that. The music playing was a raucous mix of classic rock, retro hits and a little of the contemporary crap that did nothing for me. Currently, I was listening in confusion to what sounded like Tom Jones doing a disco version of an old 80s song.

"This can't be Tom Jones," I muttered aloud.

"Tom who?"

"Bones, come on! You've gotta know who Tom Jones is."

Madness. That's who did the original version!

"Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air? The Carlton Dance?" I prodded.

"I don't know what that means."

"Oh hell, I'll show you. Come on!"

I quickly ditched my jacket, pulled her to her feet and led her out onto the packed dance floor, chuckling at her anxious look. I'd yet to see her dance to anything uptempo at an event but there had to be a first time for everything. Besides, I knew I was a goofy dancer myself, so it wouldn't matter. We'd be just another drunk couple dancing at a wedding.

"Okay, now that I have enough room to pull this off, watch and learn: The Carlton Dance."

I'd mastered this years ago, courtesy of losing a bet to Jared. My penalty was to bust it out in front of the hockey team, wearing nothing but a towel. Not my finest hour, but at least I'd gotten it bang-on. With a ridiculous grin fueled by obscene amounts of scotch, I began to swing my arms and move.

Bones burst out laughing. "Booth!" she gasped.

Several nearby guests hooted in appreciation and one even joined me in making an ass of myself. I love alcohol. Bones laughed even harder as mystery guy joined in, gasping for air. Eventually I buckled forward and laughed, my hands pressing into my thighs to keep me from falling over. The scotch was catching up to me fast.

"Booth... that... There are no sufficient words," she managed at last, drawing a deep breath.

"I aim to please," I quipped. "Now, let's dance!"

I managed to rope her into a blend of disco and random, wild movements. The flush creeping up her neck betrayed just how intoxicated she'd become. I couldn't even begin to recall how many drinks we'd had, but my guess was we'd blown well over any previous efforts. Vaguely, I was aware I'd pay dearly in the morning for the debauchery but I didn't fucking care. I'd managed to convince my partner to dance and we kept moving through the Tom Jones track, Springsteen, Queen (Bones actually knew that song) and the highlight of the set, an old Beastie Boys song that I admittedly didn't care for but Bones loved.

"I know this song!" she shrieked excitedly, strumming out air guitar riffs.

"You don't know Britney Spears, but you know this?"

"Angela."

One word, full explanation. Angela's tastes ran all over the music map, but she had a penchant for hitting clubs with Bones in tow. I was suddenly reminded of the case where she'd managed to kick a guy through a wall loaded with meth and a mummy and inhaled; it took a great deal of willpower to not laugh. Everything was funny and it was wonderful.

"Sabotage!"she shouted along with several others.

"See, isn't this fun? Having drinks, cutting footloose..."

She nodded, gesturing towards the bar. "Yes! I find that I am somewhat inebriated for a change and it is rather amusing. I want more wine. No, scotch!"

"Scotch!"

Stoic faces of fake sobriety fixed in place, we crossed the room and calmly ordered doubles of that bad-ass Blue Label. I sensed the bartender knew we were due to be cut off, but had decided that we were at least pleasant drunks with manners, so we'd earned a brief respite. That and Cam walked up to the bar with a bemused expression.

"Having fun?"

"Yes! I find that the amount of fun I am experiencing is inversely correlated with my sobriety!" Bones cheerily replied.

"Most of us find that to be true," Cam replied with a grin. "And you, Seeley?"

"Best wedding that never happened ever!" And it was. No speeches, no toasts, no crappy love songs to sit through – just fun and liquor.

"Yeah, what the hell happened?"

"Well, the government found out –"

My hand clamped over my partner's blabbermouth. "A bunch of stuff we promised we'd keep quiet, right Bones?"

"Mmmhhmpphff hmmphrrgh."

Cam's eyebrow raised. "They're not in jail, are they?"

"Nothing like that. They're fine. The wedding had to be postponed, that's all."

Sharp teeth suddenly clamped into my palm and I cursed, shaking my hand out as Bones laughed her pretty ass off. She promptly clinked her glass off mine and drained her shot.

"More, please!"

"That freaking hurt!"

"Oh quit your whining, Seeley!" Cam teased.

"Yeah, Seeley, quit your whining!"

I glared at each of them in turn, aware that my vision was blurring slightly. "Don't call me Seeley, Camille, Temperance."

Another round appeared, a third double plunked down in front of Cam. I was vaguely aware of a toast made before knocking back the scotch. It's time to stop, I realized. I'd hit the cusp of Happy Drinking Booth land and what came next was Depressed Booth, Afraid Of Becoming His Father. Cam and Bones chatted about something behind me as I waved the bartender over.

"Do me a solid, man. No matter what we say, she and I are done."

"I was about to cut you off anyway," he replied discreetly. "That was what, round fifteen?"

I winked at him and spun around. "Ladies, the dance floor beckons!"

"Oh no, I don't dance," Cam protested.

"But everyone dances," Bones countered, slurring her words slightly. "Anthropologically speaking, dance is a record of a culture, but also shapes it with each new performance through an exchange between the performers and audience. Dance Anthropology, or Ethnochoreology, is fascinating!"

I stumbled back a step."That exists?"

"Of course it does!"

Cam chuckled. "All the same, I think I'll spectate. Why don't you two perform?"

I was now the one being dragged to the dance floor by my partner, who suddenly paused to kick off her heels and shoot them under a nearby table. "Stupid shoes," she muttered.

Stupid tie. I suddenly remembered its annoying presence and fumbled it into submission. The moment I popped open the top few buttons, I felt miles better.

"Where's your purse?"

Bones did a little spin, giggling. "They're keeping it behind the bar for me."

I tossed the tie onto the nearest table. "Fuck it."

"Oh! Oh Booth, you kind of look like that guy in that film..."

"What guy?"

"The movie with all of the dancing, and the illegal abortion performed poorly... There was a melon."

"Dirty Dancing?"

"Yes! Angela loves it. I enjoy the music. Now, wait..." Without warning, she reached up with both hands and messed up my hair. "There! You're the teacher guy."

Little did she fucking know how accurate that was. I'd paid my way through college by teaching dance, primarily to married women with roaming hands, none of whom rammed diamonds into my pockets.

"Are you asking for a lesson?" I quipped.

"Maybe I am," she demurred.

Given her predilection for moves like the Electric Slide, I figured a little swing-enhanced freestyle might be feasible for her. Of course, I was too drunk for any sort of forethought about propriety, which was how I came to be pressed up against her with one hand firmly on the small of her back where it seemed to belong, the other clutching her hand in a basic frame. The music shifted into a classic rock beat I knew well.

"Alright Bones, follow my lead," I whispered into her ear.

"I got to have a shot of what you got, is oh so sweet
You got to make it hot, like a boomerang I need a repeat..."

She was quick to pick up the modified steps, her sense of pattern bringing her in line. Mainly, I opted to lead her in an uptempo swing-enhanced sway with the odd twirl thrown in to make her giggle. The melodic sound of her happiness left me breathless. How was it possible for this woman to be more beautiful? And yet, she was.

"You got to whip it up and hit me like a ton of lead
If I blow my top, will you let it go to your head?"

Goddamn it, she was going to my head, alright. This was bad, so very bad. I didn't care. I dipped her low, sucking in a deep breath as I became all-too-aware of the swells of her breasts beneath the clingy satin dress. Pulling her up, she stumbled slightly and fell against my chest.

"Can you do lifts? Like the movie?" she asked.

"They take a lot of balance, Bones, and your dress is not exactly accommodating."

"I can rip it!"

"No, God, please don't do that..." I twirled her around and brought her back against my chest, hoping the shift would distract her.

"It just looked so fun in the film," she murmured.

Studying her dress (and her ass in said dress), I reached a compromise. I was pretty sure I'd end up in the hospital, but sacrifices in the name of the greater good were my expertise. I led her through the turns and she was facing me once more.

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded. "I trust you, Booth."

"'Kay. Wrap your hands loosely around my neck and let me do the rest."

She complied immediately, her head tilted up to meet my eyes. My throat was suddenly parched at the closeness of her, of the intimacy. It was a disaster waiting to happen, flirting with fires this intense.

Burn, baby, burn.

Seizing her by the waist, I lifted her into the air and swung her legs to my left, then my right, bringing her feet back to the ground without destroying my back or breaking her legs. She was beaming and I knew that if I was doomed to burn, she'd happily join me in the flames.

"Again!"

"I could try something trickier, but you have to promise not to kill me if I drop you."

"You won't drop me."

The conviction, the utter faith in her words... It was overwhelming. I knew she trusted me, that we had a great friendship. I knew that I could rely on her, just as she believed that I would be there for her whenever she needed me. But in that second where I understood the deeper meaning of those words, I felt a weight lifting. The burden of the pain I'd caused her after that first case and the fallout... I could let it go.

I would never hurt her. She knew it as I knew it.

"Alright, when I swing you around and grab under your knees, swing up to grab my other arm."

The song drew to its bluesy conclusion as I scooped her up into a cradle position, drew a deep breath then swung her until her legs wrapped across my upper back. With a quick prayer I seized her by the knees and let her dangle and nearly cheered as she instinctively went with the momentum and seized my arm. With a gentle push, her body flipped over my arm and she came back to her feet, looking stunned.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no... That was intense! Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Some movie," I lied.

Another song featuring Angela's dad followed hard upon it and I knew this was someone's idea of an inside joke. At least it was danceable, right? And dance we did for a good hour, both fast and slow numbers. I honestly couldn't tell which was worse for my increasingly blue balls. Mercifully, Bones seemed oblivious to her effect on me. Cam, however, was on to me and made a point of pulling me aside before her departure.

"What's going on with you two?" she hissed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you two dating in secret?"

"What? No!"

"Seeley –"

"I'm serious, Camille. We're both a little drunk and maybe a bit flirty, but there's nothing going on. I just..." How could I explain this to her? "Look, she's had a hard year. I encouraged her to think of today like undercover work and let loose. That's all."

"Okay, I believe you... But your libido's not going to keep in check much longer if you keep grinding together."

Crap. "Do we really look that bad?"

"Would we be having this chat if you didn't?"

Double crap. "Yeah, I'll call us a cab and get her home."

"I bet you will!" Cam teased.

"Shut up."

With Cam leaving, I spun around and searched the now half-empty reception for my partner. Bones was leaning against a table nearby, chatting with a guy clearly staring straight into her cleavage. Fighting the urge to walk over and slug the guy, I opted instead for the more subtle approach.

"Hey!" I greeted her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Who's this?"

"This is... I don't know. I was killing time waiting for you."

Bones: honest and blunt like a baseball bat to the brain. Staring Guy sulked and departed, leaving us on the edge of the dance floor as AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" came on. Oh, we are done. Done, done, done. Because if I took her back out on that dance floor, I was bound to teach her dirty dancing.

"I think I'm beat. Bones. You ready to head home?"

"I concur. Our unusual alcohol consumption is interfering with my sense of equilibrium."

I chuckled. "Alright, genius. Let's find your shoes and purse."

The shoes had somehow gravitated to the opposite end of the reception space, tucked behind a statue of some Greek God. The purse was thankfully with the bartender, all belongings intact (I made her check). Draping my jacket over my arm, I escorted her to the front entrance to wait for our cab.

"I wish I was in more sensible footwear," she grumbled. "The weather's nice for a walk around the Mall."

"We can walk around the Mall anytime."

"Yes, but I enjoy our walks."

I smiled. "Me too."

The cab pulled up to the curb moments later and the two of us slid into the backseat. I gave the driver her address first, wanting to personally ensure her safe arrival home. Her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle a yawn. She was exhausted and now that I'd come to a full and complete stop, so was I.

"You can lean on me if you want to close your eyes and rest," I offered.

"Mmm. Okay."

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against my side. Her eyes fluttered briefly before settling closed and I listened to her breathe, rewinding the day's events. Nothing had gone the way I'd expected. Angela and Hodgins hadn't married, for starters. I hoped that this mess with Angela's other marriage could be resolved quickly, although I couldn't help but wonder how she'd forgotten to mention being married to the poor Bug Man. Dancing with my partner was also not something I'd counted on, aside from an obligatory slow dance or two, nor had I predicted a pseudo swing lesson in the mix. And then, there was Zack's letter –

Fuck. How am I going to tell her? It'll break her heart.

She'd put up a brave face about it. She would speak of duty and her own travels abroad to identify remains during previous conflicts. But Bones would miss his companionship and fear the worst.

It could wait. It would wait. Tomorrow, I'll have a hangover from hell. But after my head stopped pounding, I'd tell her. I'd explain it. Somehow.

The cab drew to a halt outside her apartment and I lightly nudged Bones awake. She blinked once, twice, three times, slowly. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab, walking her inside the building.

"The cab didn't wait," she observed as we entered the lobby.

"Didn't tell him to. It's fine, Bones."

"I could have made it upstairs just fine."

"I know. Indulge me in my need to protect you, alright?"

"Okay."

This was an old routine for me by now. On nights of paperwork and celebratory shots, I often wandered down to security and had them call me a cab. Once I knew she was safe inside her locked apartment, I'd head down to my good friend Jordan and be on my way. No big deal.

Her fingers fumbled with her key, missing the lock twice before she finally managed to slip it inside. I held the door open for her, cognizant of her increasingly wavering gait. She was due to faceplant into bed any minute now. I knew the feeling well.

She paused just inside and turned towards me. "Thank you, Booth. I had fun."

"You're welcome, Bones."

Her hair, once neatly and elegantly braided, was tumbling loose in several places. The tendrils grazing her cheeks lent a softness to her look. She was relaxed. It was a rare sight.

"You could stay in the guest room," she offered.

Dangerous waters. Could I keep my scotch-fueled sex drive in check? After a moment's hesitation, I decided I definitely could. I was in danger of faceplanting in the hallway.

"I think I should."

She smirked, swaying slightly. "I thought so. Come on."

She kicked her heels off and padded down the hall, her purse abandoned halfway to her room. She paused outside the guest room, where I'd stayed a few times after crashing during paperwork marathons, waiting for me to stagger my way there.

"You know where everything is. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Bones."

She pressed up onto her toes and lightly kissed my right cheek, much to my surprise. I heard myself sigh in response and winced in embarrassment.

"Goodnight," she murmured before retreating into her room and closing the door.

"Goodnight," I replied softly to the empty hallway.

"Gimme all your lovin', all your hugs and kisses too
Gimme all your lovin', don't let up until we're through..."

For the curious, the Tom Jones song mentioned is "Burning Down The House", a cover he did with The Cardigans that is way better than you'd expect. Seriously. The "other ZZ Top song" was La Grange of course, because it's sexy good times.

Bites readers - I slipped a subtle 'Easter Egg' in this one for a future one-shot I swear I will get done. Did you catch it?

Next week, we're back to angstier moments... Please leave me a note and tell me what you thought of my little bit of head canon... or songs you'd want to see B&B dance to while drunk at a wedding reception.