Booth leaned back into the couch, sighing satisfactorily to himself.
He cast a lazy eye over at his partner sitting next to him.
Temperance Brennan was stifling a yawn, her eyes tightly scrunched with the effort.
The pair had spent the last two hours putting their notes together for the prosecutor. It had been a tough case involving a serial killer and four young children. Booth didn't like to dwell on the details too much. It had been extremely satisfying when they had finally caught the guy, but he almost felt more relieved now that all the work associated with the case was completely finished with. Almost.
"I'm in the mood for Chinese. You in?" Brennan nodded violently at his offer. Laughing softly, he tossed her the cordless phone.
"You ring. I did it last time."
Brennan gave him a little scowl, but did as he asked.
When she was finished, Booth got up and stretched. He rubbed his neck, trying to work out the kinks.
"Would you mind if I went to take a quick shower? I'll leave you some money, just in case it arrives before I'm done." He finished his sentence by digging a crumbled 10-dollar note out of his jeans pocket and placing it on the coffee table.
Brennan nodded absently. "Sure. You go ahead." She picked up his note and began smoothing it out.
Shaking his head slightly at her compulsive behaviour, Booth moved into his bathroom.
Once under the water, he turned the heat right up. His neck was really quite stiff and his upper back was starting to throb. As soon as he felt he had alleviated his bodily aches, he quickly washed his hair. He turned the shower off and stood for a few moments, listening to the final thrum of the last few drops.
He stuck his head out of the shower curtain and did a quick sweep of the room. Heart sinking slightly, he did it again. No, he had definitely forgotten to grab himself a towel.
Grumbling to himself, he slipped and slid his way out of the shower and stood in front of the door.
"Bones?"
"Booth? Are you ok?"
He quickly explained the situation to her, directing her towards the press down the hall where the towels were kept.
He waited, shivering slightly, as he heard her feet pad away. Moments later, she was back.
"Got it."
"Great, thanks."
He opened the door a crack. As he did so, Brennan's hand appeared, groping blindly.
With a yowl, Booth jumped back, crashing into the sink.
Upon hearing this, Brennan began to push the door open wider. Booth reacted immediately. With a shout of "Don't you even think about it!" he charged at the door and forced it closed.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Bones?"
"I was just checking to see where you were."
"You don't go in hands first!"
"I just wanted to figure out where you were standing."
He spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
When he managed to catch his breath, he calmly began to explain, as though to a child, "You should have put the towel over your hand and…and…felt your way like that."
Brennan snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous. My tactile senses would have been inhibited with the material over my hand, this is a very soft, fluffy towel by the way, you obviously like your comfort, so there's a very good chance I wouldn't have found you. Also, I could have dropped the towel as I was searching and, knowing you, you've probably left the floor absolutely soaking."
Deciding it was better to pick his battles and not launch a full scale attack over her 'soaking floor' comment or the 'fluffy' reference, which he had a sinking suspicion had something to do with femininity, he returned to the matter at hand.
"You still don't go pushing your grabby hands around doors…"
"I was not grabbing!"
"You were too! Do you have ANY idea what you could have touched…"
There was a sharp intake of breath on either side of the door and a prolonged silence as both parties considered the possibilities.
Brennan suddenly opened the door and pushed the towel through. Booth took it off her without a word. He heard her moving back to the couch, giggling uncontrollably.
He roughly dried himself, feeling as though every inch of his body was blushing. He did a number of quick head-in, head-out movements through the door to make sure she was really gone. Satisfied, he strolled down to his room, forcing himself to carry his head high, the towel wrapped so tightly around his waist he felt sure his lower region would have to be amputated.
Minutes later, he was back in the living room, dressed now in jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Brennan glanced at him as he approached the couch and dissolved into giggles once more.
"Nice shirt, Booth. Very…appropriate."
Fearing the worst, he glanced down at himself. His head had been so muddled that he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to his clothes. Catching sight of the root of her hysterics, he groaned aloud.
Emblazoned across his chest in big, bold letters were the words "F.B.I.: For Bodily Inspection."
Realising it would be far worse to make a fuss than to just shrug it off, he settled himself beside her. The remaining ten minutes waiting for the food was spent in silence, occasionally punctuated by furtive glances and snorts from Brennan.
It was another half hour before they could make eye contact.
The rest of the evening was spent with numerous "feeling" and "stroking" comments from Brennan while Booth just silently tried to weather the storm with as much dignity as he could muster. He failed miserably.