Meep meep. I have no notes for this chapter. Just enjoy. or don't.

** sparky bits ahead! **


Booth sighed, staring up at the menu board above the platters of Thai food. It wasn't that he didn't know what he wanted; he was debating whether or not to call Bones and order enough for two. Hannah would be working late tonight, and after the dinner date they'd had a few nights ago, he felt like they were making their way back into a friendly enough place. He knew it was stupid, but he longed for the old times before either of them confessed feelings for oneanother. The times when they'd just eat Thai on the living room floor and bicker about the unrealistic circumstances of whatever movie he'd convinced her to watch with him.

Pulling out his cellphone, he hit the speed dial for her number and waited while it rang. "Brennan." she answered, though she sounded distracted.

"Bones, you doing anything tonight?" he asked, suddenly feeling like an idiot. She was probably doing Hacker.

"I'm working on some reports for the limbo bones I've identified recently." she told him, and he felt a happy flutter. That was good news.

"I guess Hacker's hanging out while you do that?" he asked, hoping he was wrong. The whole domestic image in his head of Bones working on reports while Hacker sat nearby channel surfing on his tv and eating Bones' mac and cheese made him cringe.

"No, Andrew is not here, Booth. Why?" she asked, and he exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Hannah's working late tonight, so I was going to get some Thai and work on my backlog of reports too. Was thinking maybe, if you haven't eaten yet… " he trailed off. When did it become so awkward to ask Bones to eat takeout and do paperwork with him? Probably about the same time that they both silently agreed it was no longer appropriate for him to just show up with said takeout and paperwork.

A spiteful part of him wondered what Hacker would think of Booth showing up to his girlfriend's place in sweats with a case of beer and parking himself on the couch like he owned the place. What would he have to say about that? Sorry, Andy-Boy, that end cushion has been my spot for 6 years. I've probably slept in her bed more times than you have. Booth smiled, thinking about how many times late nights had turned into sleepovers and breakfasts. How had they managed to remain platonic through all of that? Even their undercover work, where they'd been so sexually charged, posing as a couple more times than he could count and falling into tiny motel or trailer beds together. He longed for the casual closeness they'd shared for so long.

"Yes, that is acceptable. I am getting hungry. I was debating ordering something in." she told him, and he smiled to himself, letting her know he'd be by soon.

"Don't forget to order extra dumplings. You always eat them all." she accused him before promptly hanging up on him. He stared at his phone incredulously. Hadn't he graciously given her the last dumpling a few nights ago?


If he could cross his arms over his chest to greet her when she opened her door to him, he would have, but his hands were full, so he settled for a glare.

"What?" She asked, taking in his expression. He stood outside the door, refusing to enter for a moment. "What's wrong?" she asked again.

"I'm not coming in." he told her, and her brow furrowed as he fought a smirk. "I'm not coming in until you admit that I am not the one who always eats all of the dumplings." Everything leading up to that moment was worth the loud laugh that she emitted as she started to close the door in his face. "Fine! Fine! I'm the dumpling hog!" he shouted before the door was completely closed, and she reopened it, allowing him to enter. He walked into her living room and placed the takeout containers down on the coffee table. "I don't think I've ever tasted their veggie spring rolls though, because someone gobbles them up before I even see them." he muttered just loud enough for her to hear as he plopped himself down onto the floor in front of her couch and tossed his files on the table in front of him.

She snorted, but she didn't deny it as she placed some napkins down on the table. He glanced up, clearing his throat as he got an eye-full of her legs. He hadn't noticed until they were right in front of his face, that she was wearing an incredibly short pair of pajama shorts that just barely came below her ass cheeks. On a shorter woman, they'd have probably fallen lower and been perfectly innocent with their froggy pattern, but her legs were longer than most, and he was reminded of images of those ass cheeks in a black thong from a few weeks ago. Did she even realize she was hot? She hadn't been trying to be sexy either time; she just was. He cleared his throat, silently scolding himself for even thinking that.

"What?" she asked, looking down at him, and he realized he'd been caught staring.

"Cute froggies." he teased, nodding at her shorts as an excuse to why he was clearly staring at her ass. She rolled her eyes, tugging the shorts a little as she sat down next to him.

They sat in companionable silence on her living room floor, each working away at their paperwork while The Mummy played on the TV and they picked away at the various boxes of Thai food. It was nice, and he was lulled into the comfort of this being just like old times. Maybe their friendship could weather the storms it had faced recently.

"Are there any more dumplings?" she asked, using her chopsticks to tip some of the now empty cartons toward her so she could look inside. Booth sat silently, staring into the carton in his hand and hoping she didn't glance his way. "Booth?" she asked, looking his way when he didn't respond. "Is that the dumpling box?" she asked in an accusatory tone and a predatory gleam in her eyes.

Swallowing, he nodded, carefully moving his hand with the carton away from her. "There's only one left, Bones." he informed her, hoping that would deter her. "I was gonna eat it." he added, raising a challenging brow at her.

"Booth…" she warned, tilting her head to the side in question. "How many have you had?" she asked in an accusatory tone. He balked, trying to think of an acceptable number because he'd honestly lost count. "Booth." she whined. "C'mon… I've only had three." she told him, and he nodded.

Three sounded acceptable. "Me too!" he told her, holding the carton out of her reach when she grabbed for it. Just like old times, he chuckled to himself, enjoying this game of keep away. His arms were longer than her's, so it wasn't that difficult.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but her jumping over his body, with a knee on either side of his legs as she lunged against his chest, reaching for the carton he now held high above his head, was not even in the stratosphere of expectations. The last time she'd climbed onto his body like this, they'd been in the gym practicing defensive maneuvers, and she'd slammed him so hard into the mat, it left him breathless for a moment.

He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, feeling a little breathless for completely different reasons, as she leaned forward, reaching for the box with ease from her new vantage point, her breasts straining against her t-shirt only inches from his face. He released the carton to her grabby hands when he felt her hardened nipple brush his cheek through her shirt, and she plopped down into his lap, unceremoniously, grinning triumphantly.

He watched shell-shocked and trying to catch his breath as she plunged her chopsticks into the carton and held the dumpling up in the air with a cocky little smile. "I'm willing to share it with you." she told him, bringing it toward his mouth briefly before pulling it back again. "Half." she said with a warning in her tone, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"I agree to your terms." he nodded, leaning forward to gingerly clamp his teeth into the dumpling under her watchful gaze to ensure he took only his half. He groaned as she shifted and popped the remaining half into her own mouth. He hoped she would simply write it off as him enjoying the dumpling, or not enjoying how long they'd spent on the floor, really anything but that fact that his traitorous body was reacting to their little wrestling match, and she'd yet to extricate herself from his lap.

He cleared his throat as she moved and leaned around to put the empty carton and her chopsticks onto the table, her inner thigh pressing against his growing erection. This was how he was going to die. He knew it. There was no other way out of this than death itself.

"Why are you wearing your sidearm?" She asked around her half of the dumpling, moving her leg around as she tried to relocate what she thought she'd felt a moment ago.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath before looking back up at her innocently inquisitive face. "I'm not." he muttered, and he felt her tense. For a woman so blatant about her sexual conquests, she was seriously naive when it came to him specifically. Maybe she didn't see him as a "guy" because they were so close. She didn't expect him to have the same biological urges that other men had in her presence? Did she have any idea how moments ago he'd wanted to wrap his lips around that nipple that tickled his cheek? He was a guy, ok? That's how the guy brain worked. He was definitely going to need a cold shower and a few hail mary's later.

"Oh." she said simply, but she remained seated, straddling his lap in those stupid adorable fucking shorts, chewing the last remnants of her dumpling.

"Yea." he replied around his now dry throat. He should move. He knew he should move, or she should. Definitely her. Both of them should move right now. He knew this in his head, but his head wasn't exactly functioning at full capacity at that moment.

It was such an infinitesimal motion that if it wasn't against the most sensitive part of his body he may not have even noticed it when she shifted, as if trying to confirm her suspicions. "Bones." he meant it as a warning, but it left his mouth on a groan, and his hands flew to her hips, halting any further movements.

"Sorry." she murmured, staring at him, her eyes darker than usual and wide as she seemed to be appraising him. "Do you want me to move?" she asked, and he knew the right answer was yes, he wanted her to move, he just wasn't sure if he wanted her to move off his lap and to somewhere across the country or exactly like she'd just done a second ago. What he did know was that this little game was officially crossing into inappropriate territory.

He just wanted to feel it one more time, he reasoned with himself, that warm friction he'd felt when she pressed herself down against his cock. His hands, still gripping her hips, pressed more firmly, pulling her against him as he gently lifted his hips, rubbing the hard ridge of his denim-clad erection against her froggy-covered center.

In hindsight, he should have stopped long before that moment, but when she gasped and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, he rolled his hips again, grinding more firmly into her this time to prove he hadn't imagined her response. She liked it. She wanted it, so he repeated the action, reveling in the little gasping noises she made right next to his ear every time her hot core was pressed against his cock. Her arms wound around his neck, and her fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck as she pressed down against him this time. He held her hips, keeping her from rising back up away from him, and groaned when she rolled them against him. It was too much, the hot friction, those sweet moans against the side of his throat where her face remained buried.

Sliding one hand lower, he stroked over the top of her thigh, letting his thumb rub back and forth as he splayed his large hand and reached the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He let his hand drift deeper between her legs, rubbing up and down her smooth skin in long firm strokes. On an upward stroke, his hand slipped up the leg of her shorts, his fingertips brushing the junction of her leg. He felt a rumble, something almost primal, bloom in his chest when he realized she wasn't wearing anything under the shorts. He stroked his fingertips over her slick flesh, shocked by how wet she was. "Bones…?" he murmured, pausing his movements.

He wasn't even sure what he was asking. Are we really doing this? Do you want this? Can I keep going? Should we stop?

"Yes." she whispered against his throat, nodding furiously and tickling his cheek with her hair before she leaned back to look into his eyes with her own heavy-lidded expression.

He held her gaze as he spread her lips with his index and ring finger and slid his middle finger through her wet folds, stopping briefly at her clit and circling it before retracing his path. She moaned when he paused at her opening, circling and applying a gentle pressure, but not entering. "Please." she whispered, leaning her forehead against his, their mouths both hanging open in awe as they shared the same air on their heavy breaths. Her eyes bored into his, and he felt like he was staring straight into her soul. Though he knew she'd argue that she didn't believe in souls, he could see it; he felt like he could see her very essence in those blue pools, like he was being tethered to her by some invisible cord, winding around them.

"Fuck." he whispered, slipping his finger inside of her, relishing in the tight welcoming heat he'd thought about for years. Her whimper as she rolled her hips, grinding down against his hand, brought him back to the moment, and he stroked her, slipping his middle finger in and out a few times before he brought his index finger in with it. A voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop this now, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the look of sheer pleasure on her face as he pressed the heel of his hand against that tight bundle of nerves begging for his attention. She was fucking beautiful, forehead pressed to his, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth, her finger nails scraping bluntly against the back of his neck.

He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of her, twisting them, stroking her inner walls with the pads of his fingers. Stopping at his third knuckles when he could go no deeper, he stroked that sweet spot within her that made her moan his name. He repeated the action, this time circling her clit with the pad of his thumb, and he felt her body clench around him, gripping his fingers from within.

Her breathing became a rapid succession of whimpers and gasps as he stroked her faster, and he knew she was going to come soon. It was like he was perfectly attuned to her body, to the sounds and quivers it made. He felt like he'd been touching her this way all his life. He brought his free hand up from her hip, sliding over her ass first before changing course and moving under the front of her shirt. Cupping her breast, he mimicked the circling motion of his thumb on her clit to his attention on her puckered nipple.

Her body tightened and her lips slammed against his as she rocked hard against him, riding his fingers in an erratic motion as her inner muscles contracted around him. She whimpered against his mouth, sucking his bottom lip as her movements slowed. He slid his fingers out of her, bringing his hands back to her hips and held her to him, feeling her body vibrate in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her head found a home on his shoulder again, her hands gripping his biceps as she caught her breath, and he swallowed, the gravity of what he'd just done suddenly very present in his mind.

"Fuck." he muttered again, his voice hoarse, though this time it was not because of how good it felt to be sliding his fingers into Bones' pussy. He'd fucked up. He'd done something so awful he couldn't even wrap his head around– "what are you doing?" he asked, flinching unintentionally when he realized that she'd slid her hands between them and was struggling with the button at the top of his fly.

She looked up into his eyes, confused when he put a hand over hers and stopped her movements. Fucking double fuck. "I thought–" she stopped when he closed his eyes and sighed.

"I think– I should leave, Temperance." He told her quietly, feeling awash in guilt and shame. This would have consequences. Big, bad, stupid fucking consequences, and if he didn't stop this now and get the hell out of there, he would probably destroy every relationship, working and personal, that he had.

"Oh." she whispered, and the sudden cold absence of her weight on him was almost painful. "Yes, that would be wise. You should go home. Hannah will be wondering where you are." She was speaking with a smooth and level tone, her voice devoid of any of the emotion he'd just seen cross her features moments ago, and she busied herself gathering up the trash from her coffee table. Hannah… yes. Hannah would be waiting for him, completely unaware of what he'd just done.

He got up from the floor as quickly as his stiff back, and other parts of his anatomy, would allow, and followed her to the kitchen where she was actively cleaning up their takeout containers, breaking them down and stuffing them in the trash.

"Bones…" he tried, but she pivoted, turning away from him and busying herself on the other side of the counter. "Bones, I'm sorry." he told her quietly, and watched her back stiffen. "I'm gonna go." he said finally, when she didn't turn back toward him. He didn't blame her. He was pretty pissed off at himself for what just happened too. Pissed off and confused. She was probably feeling similarly.

He gathered up his files, tucking them under his arm as he made his way to the door. Glancing back, she still had her back to him, her hands braced on the countertop and her head down. So much for old times. So much for just about anything in his life now.

Climbing into his SUV, he slammed his fists into the steering wheel. He wanted to scream, or cry. He wanted to go back upstairs to Bones' apartment and kiss her breathless. He wanted to know how it would feel to have her riding his cock the way she'd just ridden his hand. Fuck. He wanted to go home and crawl into his bed and hold Hannah as if he hadn't just ruined every damn good thing he had in this world.

He'd stopped it right? He'd stopped before they… that counted, didn't it? He couldn't fathom why he hadn't stopped before they had gotten that far. Why had he kept going and continued touching her? He'd felt like an addict at that moment, unable to stop himself from gambling just a little bit more. The feeling of Bones wrapped around him, moaning in his ear… he'd felt like he did when he had a winning bet. It was fucking euphoria… until it wasn't. He wasn't winning anymore. He'd just bet it all and lost.

He buried his face in his hands, scrubbing his eyes as he tried to gain some kind of control, but he paused. He hadn't washed his hands. His hands still smelled like sex, like Bones' wet arousal. He cursed at himself, ripping open the glove box in search of wet wipes or hand sanitizer… anything. How was he supposed to go home to his girlfriend when his hands smelled like another woman's pussy?

Finding nothing useful in his glove box, he did the only other thing he could think of and drove to the gym. Standing under the scalding heat of the water, he scrubbed his body roughly, leaving himself red and raw by the time he was done. He dressed quickly and drove home.

Glancing at his watch as he got out his keys, he was grateful that it was after midnight. If Hannah was home yet, she'd probably be in bed already.

"Hey, Soldier." She startled him as she got off the elevator at the end of the hall and walked toward him. "Fancy meeting you here." she commented, sidling up next to him and leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Hey." He muttered quietly, leaning into her kiss and closing his eyes as he turned the key.

"Everything ok?" She asked, as they entered the apartment together, dropping their bags and taking off their jackets.

He nodded. "Yeah, babe, everything's good. Just… paperwork." he told her, walking up behind her at the kitchen counter and wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his hands on her stomach. "I'm sorry." he whispered against her hair, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize her smell.

"For what?" she asked, rubbing her hands up and down his.

"Just being so late. I didn't plan on it, but…" he started, not even sure where he was going with his words.

I got caught up fucking my best friend and had to make a detour to shower off the smell of her come?

Was he going to lie to her? Was he going to tell her right here and now? Was he going to beg forgiveness and tell her he'd do everything in his power to make it ok again? What kind of man was he? Not the man Pops had raised him to be. Not the man he wanted Parker to look up to as an example.

She smiled, turning in his arms and weaving her own arms up around his neck. "I got home the same time you did, if you recall, but if you're feeling the need for penance, I'll gladly take it." she told him, sliding her thigh between his and grinding against him.

He spent the next several hours making penance for something she had no idea he'd done – touching her, tasting her, worshiping her body. Every hot kiss against her skin was a silent apology, a prayer for forgiveness. He slid his fingers inside of her and tried not to remember how only hours ago he'd had those same fingers buried inside his partner in exactly the same way.

He tried to erase the way Bones' body had felt, clenching around him as she came apart in his arms. When he pushed his erection into Hannah's body, he was glad he didn't have first hand knowledge of how Bones would feel wrapped around him so intimately because he wasn't sure he'd be able to focus on the woman in his arms, on the woman he loved. Despite it all, he felt like something was missing, that their connection had somehow been severed and he was simply going through the motions, willing himself to make love to her and prove to himself that he hadn't destroyed it. Except it didn't feel like they were making love this time. He'd have to tell her. They need to work through this together and figure out how to move forward.

He held her close to his body as she slept in the wee hours of the morning, but sleep wouldn't come for him. He ached, his body tense with guilt and shame for what he'd done to both of the women in his life. He didn't deserve either of them or their forgiveness.

He was thankful as morning light started to peek through the curtains, and his alarm clock sounded, allowing him to get up and get ready for work. He hadn't slept at all, thoughts about Hannah and how hurt she would be fought for real estate in his mind against images of Bones' face, her hooded eyes and her gasping breaths from last night and her wet hair as she cried in his passenger seat the night she'd told him how she'd missed her chance.


Brennan tossed and turned in her bed, unable to succumb to sleep despite how weary she felt. She'd tried a hot shower after Booth had left, tried to erase what had happened between them, but she couldn't put it out of her mind. She couldn't stop feeling his hands on her… inside of her, the taste of his mouth when she kissed him as she climaxed. She wondered if she had taken advantage of him or vice versa, or had they just come together at an inopportune time and place.

She wanted to throttle herself for putting herself in that situation. Only weeks ago, he'd told her he had moved on, that he was in love with someone else, so why had it felt like he'd made love to her hours ago? Why had she felt connected to him in ways that she'd never felt before? Was it one-sided? She knew she had never been good at reading people, at telling what they were thinking or feeling, but Booth was different. She almost always knew what he was feeling. He was the one person she could read, but somehow, tonight, she'd lost all sense of what he was thinking and feeling.

Her fling with Andrew had done nothing to assuage her feelings for Booth. She still loved him, was still in love with him. Perhaps she hadn't given herself enough time or distance from him to move on from those feelings. It was all so new to her. How did one learn not to love another person? Certainly not by engaging in very satisfying heavy petting. Her oxytocin levels were probably overwhelming her, leaving her longing and feeling empty by his sudden absence when they were both clearly, biologically speaking, ready for much more than they'd done on her living room floor.

She wanted nothing more than to talk to him about what happened, to confirm that they hadn't destroyed their partnership. She wanted to ask him if he would leave Hannah now, but that seemed callous and disrespectful. What did it mean that they'd given in to these desires? Was Andrew right about his assessment of Booth? Had he really not moved on like he'd said? Was it just sex? Only she knew Booth, and he didn't have 'just sex'. It hadn't felt like 'just sex' to her.

This was too complicated. Situations like this were precisely why she had always been so adamantly in favor of compartmentalizing her feelings. This would become a teachable moment for her, she supposed.

For the rest of the night, she lay awake, trying and failing miserably to avoid thoughts of Booth and his hands and how perfectly he'd played her body. He knew her, knew where to touch her, when to touch her, how to touch her in exactly the way she needed it and that was while they'd both remained fully clothed. Desire pooled in her belly, and she felt painfully empty when she slid her hand between her thighs, wanting to memorize how his fingers had felt.