This story takes place during season one.

Originally Published on May 15, 2006

Revised on July 14, 2008

Love like This

Chapter 1

Angela watched with concern as her friend walked quickly down the steps of the platform and then turned to look at Booth who was leaning against the railing, flipping a red and white poker chip into the air as if nothing had just happened. She then stared at the skeleton lying on the examination table: a thirty-five year old woman with a bashed in skull and multiple stab wounds to the back.

"Booth, why do you do that?" the artist asked as she moved to stand directly in front of him, her ever present sketch book pressed to her chest.

"Do what?" he asked, only halfway paying attention.

"Why do you treat Brennan as if she doesn't have any feelings?" That got his attention. He caught the chip out of the air and stared at her blankly. "Couldn't you tell that she was upset just now?" Angela asked him disbelievingly.

"What? That?" he said, jerking his thumb the way Bones had just gone.

"Yeah, that," she said annoyed.

"Come on, Angela. Bones isn't upset. That's just the way our partnership works. She's the robot scientist with facts and I'm the tough guy cop with the people skills. We quip back and forth…it's what we do," he shrugged, resuming his game of catch.

"Well, you're people skills aren't much better than hers if all you can do is tell her that she's an unfeeling zombie," Hodgins butted in from one of the lower decks surrounding the main platform.

"I did not call her an unfeeling zombie," Booth said, giving Hodgins a dirty look.

"You may as well have," chimed in Zack as he studied the right humerus of the victim closely. "The highly intelligent are often misunderstood as being cold and aloof."

Booth was getting annoyed at the way the Squints seemed to be ganging up on him.

"The point is, Booth, Brennan may not have much in the way of people skills, but it's not because she's cold or uncaring. It's just the way she is," Angela shrugged. "You must know by now that she only had herself to depend on when she was growing up. She didn't have anyone to tell her that things would be okay or to hold her when she was sad. She had to get through all of those moments by herself."

"I doubt she would be where she is today if she always let her emotions get in the way of things," Hodgins said. "Sometimes you need people who can get the job done objectively without breaking down all the time."

"O-o-kay," Booth said holding up his hand and backing away, "I think I've had enough of Squintsville for one day."

They all watched as he strolled down the steps and out of sight. Angela knew that she was being hard on him. She was usually telling Brennan to go easy on him, but she saw the brief flicker of hurt in her friend's eyes at the remarks Booth had made and she became defensive of her. She would be the first to admit that Brennan's people skills were lacking and she would be lying if she said it didn't bother her at times, but she would have never handled the situation the way Booth did. They had been partners for nearly six months and she would have thought Booth would have a better outlook on the kind of person Brennan was. She knew Brennan cared about the victims as much as any of them, maybe more. Why else would someone do such a gruesome job?

Booth walked swiftly toward the exit of the Jeffersonian, but quickly changed direction and headed toward Bones' office. He would prove to the Squints that they were wrong. He knew she wasn't unfeeling, but she had no tact when it came to dealing with the victims or the families and that was something she was going to have to work on if they were to continue working together.

"Hey, Bones," he said as he approached her office, "I'm gonna go grab some lunch and then we can…" He trailed off as he looked around the immaculate office only to find it empty. Her lab coat was lying across the back of her chair and her desk had been cleared of the files that were littering it earlier. Booth shrugged and left the office. He would just catch up with her later. As he exited the massive building, the Squints' words from earlier rang through his mind.

Temperance unlocked the door to her apartment after stopping at a corner market for a few groceries. It was only three in the afternoon, and while she normally would have gone back to the lab, she decided that it was a nice day for a break. There weren't any new leads on the case at the moment anyway, and contrary to popular belief, she did enjoy the occasional day off. She decided she would check in with Booth later, but right now, she simply wanted to be left alone. She and Booth seemed to be clashing more than usual, if that was possible, and their conversation from earlier came back to her.

"The victim appears to have been killed from multiple stab wounds to the back, leaving marks to the fifth, sixth and seventh thoracic vertebrae. Victim also has extensive damage to the mandible and temporal bone." Brennan hit the pause button on the small recorder and moved to one of the work stations to jot down more notes.

"What kind of twisted bastard would do this to a woman?" Booth said from where he had been watching.

She turned to face him and sighed. She knew how much the cases affected him, how he treated each one as if it were personal, but she was a firm believer in remaining objective. "Booth, we can't let our emotions interfere before we find out all the facts."

Booth huffed. "Look, Bones, it's not as easy for everyone else as it is for you to turn off their feeling. Not all of us have emotional switches. I see more than just a pile of bones lying on that table."

Brennan didn't say anything as she turned back to the remains on the table.

She should have been used to his remarks by now. She was used to most people feeling that way about her, but somehow it felt different when the comments came from Booth. It hurt.

Pushing the thoughts aside, she moved into her bedroom to change clothes and was making her way back into the kitchen when the phone rang.

"Brennan," she answered in her usual manner.

"What happened to you?" came the concerned voice of Angela. "It's not like you to leave without telling anyone?"

"Sorry, Ange. I was just tired and I have a headache," Temperance explained as she began unpacking her groceries.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" her friend asked gently.

"Ange, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Her brow furrowed as she realized she'd picked up the wrong kind of sauce.

"Well, Booth was kind of a jerk this morning. I could tell you were upset, Brennan."

Temperance sighed and walked into the living room. "I wasn't upset, Ange. It must have been the headache." She knew that Angela was only trying to look out for her, but she didn't want to admit that Booth had hurt her feelings, the ones he seemed to think she didn't have. Changing the subject, she asked, "Did Zack finish with the skull?"

"Yeah, he finished about an hour ago. I'm working on a sketch now," Angela said, realizing that Brennan didn't want to talk about Booth and allowing it for the time being.

"Alright, I'll check back in later on," Temperance said.

"You'd better," Angela warned.

Temperance smiled and hung up the phone after saying goodbye. She really did have a headache. After letting out a jaw popping yawn, she decided that food could wait and walking into her bedroom, she plopped down on the bed for a much needed nap.

After leaving the Jeffersonian for the second time that day, Booth pulled out his cell phone to dial Brennan's home phone number. He lost count of how many times he had dialed her cell. Climbing into his SUV, he waited for her to pick up, but got no answer. He opted not to leave a message and decided he would drive over to check on her instead. It wasn't like her to take time off during the middle of an investigation, and, not for the first time that day, his words from that morning came back to haunt him and he was afraid that maybe the Squints had been right.

Booth parked on the street behind her silver sports car, relieved that she was home, but unsure about why she wasn't answering her phone? Walking to her door, he noticed that none of the lights were on and after knocking and still getting no answer, he pulled out his keys, flipping through them until he came to her house key. It had been his idea to exchange the keys in case of an emergency. Sometimes, Bones wasn't always careful, but instead of admitting that he worried about her, he made up some outlandish excuse as to why it was a good idea for partners to have each other's key.

"Bones?" he called out as he entered her home. Still no response. Turning on one of the lamps in the living room, he looked around to see that everything was in order. He checked the kitchen to see grocery bags sitting on the counter and finally, he made his way down the hall to her bedroom. The door was open and he peeked inside to see her form on the bed. Walking closer still, he heard her deep, even breathing. "Bones?" he called again, softly this time. When she didn't answer, he bent down and placed a hand on her shoulder. He called to her again and watched as she pulled herself out of the deep slumber.

"Booth?" she said, sitting up slowly. He reached over to turn on the lamp and watched as she squinted against the sudden brightness. "What time is it? What are you doing here?"

Booth forced his eyes from the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders to the artwork that hung on the walls and answered her. "Bones, its past eight o'clock and I've been trying to call you," he said, watching as she stood up from the bed on shaky legs and walked out of the room. He followed her into the kitchen where she got a glass of water.

Temperance squeezed her eyes shut trying to remove the last vestiges of sleep. "Is there something new concerning the case?" she asked sipping the water.

"Uh, yeah, that's why I've been calling," Booth said. "Angela gave me the sketch. The woman's name is Carol Montgomery. I went ahead and talked to the husband and the kids without you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to accuse him of talking the family without her on purpose, but she was in no mood to argue with him. She moaned tiredly. "I've been sleeping for over five hours."

"Yeah, well, you must have needed it if you were sleeping so hard you didn't hear the phone or me knocking on the door," Booth said from the living room, looking at the rapidly blinking red light on the answering machine. He plopped down onto the couch and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was as tired as Temperance looked. "You're not sick or anything, are you, Bones?" Booth asked. He was suddenly up from the couch and standing next to her in the kitchen again.

"What?" she asked looking at him like he was crazy. "No, I'm not sick. I just didn't get much sleep last night and I had a headache."

"Well, if you'd go home at a decent time like normal people and not hang around the dead until all hours of the night…" he trailed off.

Go home to what, she thought to herself.

Booth noticed the strange look that came across her face and immediately regretted his words. "Look, Bones, why don't you just go on back to bed and we'll get started first thing in the morning." He placed his hand on her shoulders, swallowing hard at how smooth her skin was, and began ushering her back to her room.

"No, I can't," she said breaking free of his grip. "I think I'll go back to the lab and do some work. Zack and Hodgins probably left reports for me in the office. I can go over them and maybe gather more clues as to who killed her," she said.

"Uhn-uhn, Bones, there is no way you are going back to the lab tonight," he said grabbing her hand and leading her into the living room. "You just sit here and…do whatever it is…that you do," he said gesturing. He took off his coat and began rolling up his sleeves.

"What are you doing?" Temperance asked confused. "You're not staying," she said.

"Yes," Booth said matter-of-factly, "I am…for as long as it takes me to cook us dinner." He flashed a smile, rubbed his hands together and headed back into the kitchen. "Looks like you've got the makings for spaghetti in here," he said peeking into the bags scattered along the counter. Wow, she really must be tired, Booth thought to himself. He definitely expected more of an argument form her about his staying.

Temperance watched him for a few minutes from the living room, clanking pans and asking where things were from time to time. Then she headed to the bathroom for a shower, hoping it would clear her sleepy mind.

By the time she was finished, the delicious smell of tomato sauce and spices had permeated the air. "Booth, I didn't know you could cook," she said as she walked over to the table where a steaming plate was waiting for her.

"Of course I can cook, Bones. I cook for Parker all the time." He came over to the table with a glass of milk for himself and wine for her. "I didn't know what you wanted to drink."

"This is fine," she said taking a small sip of the deep red liquid.

He watched as she dug into her food. "You like?" he asked.

"It's delicious."

"Yeah, as delicious as you can get with Ragu," he said taking a healthy bite. He pointed at her with his fork. "Ya know, Bones, I'm gonna have to teach you how to cook from scratch sometime."

"What's wrong with Ragu? I use it all the time," she said taking another bite.

Booth only smiled and they continued to eat in silence. He watched her discretely, knowing that he should apologize to her for what happened earlier. He thought she looked beautiful sitting there in her pajamas, her hair wet from her shower. His gaze traveled up to her eyes and she was looking right at him, but neither said anything as they continued eating.

A short while later, Temperance sat in the den at her computer while Booth was in the kitchen doing the dishes. She told him that she would take care of it, considering he had cooked, but for some reason he insisted. She didn't understand why he was being so nice to her. Looking at the corner of the computer screen, she saw that it was almost ten o'clock. He would probably be leaving soon and the thought of it left her deflated. She hadn't minded being home today—even if she did sleep for five hours in the middle of the day—and she reluctantly admitted to herself that it was because she had someone to share the time with. She had Booth to share it with. As much as they argued, as much as they fussed with each other, she loved his company.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the soft sound of music floating through the speakers. It was jazz. Of all the CDs she owned, she would have never thought that Booth would have picked smooth jazz. With a curious smile, she left the den to find him bobbing his head to the beat and reading through the rest of her collection.

"Booth?" He turned around and gave her a boyish grin.

"I hope you don't mind, Bones."

"No, not at all," she said walking over to him. Suddenly, he pulled her into an embrace and they moved together to the rhythm of the music. "I wouldn't have expected you to be interested in this genre of music. You strike me much more as the type who would enjoy psychedelic rock bands, whose concerts largely consist of improvisational music, such as those of The Grateful Dead, Allman Brothers Band, Phish, Cream, Widespread Panic…jam bands. They sometimes improvise around the chord progressions of pre-composed songs, incorporating variations on recognizable themes, riffs and rhythms, while allowing for unexpected detours of unpredictable duration," she finished. She became sensitive to the proximity of him, the feel of his muscled chest, his warm hands and the scent of his cologne. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the moment.

Booth wasn't immune to the feel of her either. His nose rested against her hair, which smelled like strawberries, and her skin was warm under his hands. Somehow, holding her so close felt right. "Well, isn't jazz improvised music?" he asked, trying to focus on something other than how good she felt in his arms.

"You're right," she said, lifting her head from its comfortable spot. "Free jazz, or avant-garde jazz, is a subgenre that, while rooted in bebop, typically uses less compositional material and allows performers more latitude in what they choose to play." She was enjoying this conversation.

They continued to sway as the next song began and Booth found himself quite intrigued by what she was saying. Eventually, the conversation tapered off and before either of them knew it, they had dance through three different songs.

"Bones," Booth said softly. She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "Look, about this morning…I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings with the whole emotional switch thing. I know you aren't unfeeling, Bones."

"It's alright, Booth," she said resting her head on his shoulder again. "It's what we do, right?"

Her words, his words to Angela earlier, hit him like a slap in the face. Was that all they were about, bickering and cutting remarks? He realized that he didn't want that to be all. "No, it's not right," he said stopping their dance. "Bones, I know we've got our banter thing…but you are my friend," he told her sincerely.

"Thank you, Booth," she said. It was nice to know that she wasn't just a nuisance to him. "You know, I do feel things and I do care, but if I let my emotions get in the way, then we'd never get anything done. We'd never catch the sick people who do these unthinkable things to other human beings. I can't cry over every victim that comes to me." She removed her head from his shoulder again and looked up at him. "But what I can do is help to bring them justice. We do that together, Booth, and I love it," she finished softly.

He was moved by her words. She didn't show her emotional side often, but when she did, he felt charmed by her. He ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. They were standing so close and he could see ever detail of her piercing, blue eyes. Slowly, he leaned in until his lips brushed hers lightly. He pulled back to find her eyes closed and decided that that meant she wasn't going to kick his ass for kissing her. He leaned in again, this time his lips taking a firmer hold of hers.

Temperance's entire body tingled at the feel of him. She couldn't remember one man in her life that had ever stirred such a reaction inside of her. But Booth was different than any of the others. She usually dated men who were interested in the same things she was. Men who enjoyed intellectual conversations, who liked to study, reflect, speculate on, or ask and answer questions with regard to a variety of different ideas. Booth was the total opposite of that. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of intellect, but he tended to rely more on his gut and his heart rather than facts. She had heard the phrase 'opposites attract' and she was starting to get a better understanding of it.

Their kisses continued and Temperance felt his hands slide down to her hips. Her hands were resting somewhere between his chest and his stomach. She moaned as she felt his tongue tasting her lips and she readily granted him access, meeting it with her own.

After a few moments, Booth felt her pulling away from him and he was afraid that maybe he had gone too far, but instead, she took his hand, laced their finger together and pulled him over to the stereo to turn it off. Then she turned to kiss him again and led him down the hallway to her bedroom.

They took their time, an article of clothing removed with soft kisses placed on the newly exposed skin. Booth nearly exploded as she placed kisses along his chest and neck and he returned the favor as his hands massaged her soft skin. Once they were naked, he guided her backwards onto the bed and followed her down, leaning in to continue the kisses while settling his hips against hers. He trailed his moist lips down her throat to her breasts where he took his time.

Temperance ran her fingers through his thick hair enjoying the feel of his mouth on her body. His lips trailed even further down to her flat stomach and she moaned as his tongue circled her navel before dipping inside. Pulling him up for more passionate kisses, she pushed until he was lying on his back and she was straddling him.

"Temperance," he moaned as she kissed his collarbone, her lips moving down to his chest where she teased a nipple. Booth couldn't believe it. One minute he was teasing Bones, as usual, and the next he was making love to Temperance.

Bodies joined in the most intimate way, Booth and Temperance moved together in a deep rhythm. He rested his forehead against hers, breath and sweat mingling as a hand smoothed across her hip and down her thigh. He felt her hands roaming across his back as she tried to pull him even closer. "Booth," she whimpered into his ear. He could feel her getting close, her hips rocking uncontrollably.

They lay together afterwards, Temperance on top of Booth, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Booth," she whispered, "what now? What does this mean?" She didn't regret that they had made love, but she would be lying if she said she didn't have concerns. Would they still be able to work together without it being awkward?

"Well," he said rolling them over until they were both laying on their sides and facing one another, "I know what it means to me. I care about you, Temperance…a lot." More than he ever thought he would.

"I care about you, too, Booth," she said softly. He pushed some hair away from her face and leaned in to kiss her. It was after one in the morning and both of them were tired. Temperance reached over to turn the lamp off and then snuggled back into Booth's warmth.

"We'll talk more in the morning," he whispered. She nodded against his chest and soon they were asleep.