A.N. Wow! Just when I'm thinking, "Yeah… maybe it's not as good as I planned", you guys get me some feedback that keeps me going. Thanks! Here's, as promised, a little tension to hold on to.

A.N.2 Thanks to "Anne Nonymous" who'll recognize the idea she unintentionally- or not- gave me. Thanks to her, I had to postpone the update until 3 am. *sigh* :)
And thanks to Laura Dugan who pointed out a mistake I tried to correct without making it too obvious... ;)

Chapter 6
Discomfort Inn

The lights flickered on again. They stayed immobile for a minute, just waiting to see if the electricity would hold.

"Ok!" Booth said, taking his first good look around. TV, small round table, chair, phone, lamp…

"I've stayed in way worse conditions," she said. "I'll be fine. I'm just worried about you."

"Me?"

"You're a little… soft."

He snickered. "What?!"

"Yes. This is out of your comfort zone."

She was so right. This place gave him the creeps.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I bet you hate camping," she continued.

He did. With all his heart.

Brennan shivered. She had to warm up or else she would get sick. And she hated being sick more than anything.

"I'm gonna take a bath," she told him.

"Funny. I always picture you in the shower." He hadn't meant for it to sound so dirty. "Not that I think about… You know…" How could he rephrase that? "I thought you were more of a shower person." Yes, that sounded better. Right? God! Help me.

She smirked at his discomfort. "Could you grab my suitcase in the car?"

He peered out the window. The storm didn't look nearly over. He didn't want to, but one look at her, and he was running outside.

When he came back, she was putting her hair up in a bun, exposing her neck. He dropped the bags on the bed. He always had an emergency bag of his own ready in the trunk containing the basics.

She rummaged through her luggage and froze. There was no way. She looked at him. He was taking inventory of his stuff: 2 T-shirts, 1 pair of jeans, 1 sweatshirt…

"Could I… borrow one of your shirts?" she asked.

His head spun up, then down at her bag.

"Weren't you supposed to spend two days in Chicago?"

"Yes."

"And you forgot to pack sleepwear?"

Maybe she sleeps naked.

She pinched her lips together.

"I just thought you'd be more comfortable if I slept in one of your shirts."

In what universe would that make him more comfortable? A gorgeous woman in his shirt was enough to drive him over the edge in a few seconds. There was nothing sexier than a…

She pulled something out of her bag. Something pink… and a little transparent… something… She held it up and it unfolded. That was not sleepwear. That was sexwear. That was… He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to control his body.

Still gazing at the small piece of clothing she was showing off, he blindly took one of his T-shirts and threw it at her. She caught it, put back her négligé in the bag, zipped it shut and locked herself in the bathroom.

"Thanks!" she shouted through the door.

No problem.

***

It was his turn to come out of the bathroom. She was sitting on the chair by the window, brushing her hair. His shirt was too big for her, obviously, but it was still indecently short, barely covering her thighs. He tried not to stare, he really did.

Her cell phone rang. He went back to the bathroom to hang their wet clothes on the shower curtain rod and to give her some privacy.

The caller ID was unambiguous. It was Cal. She quickly glanced over at Booth. He wasn't looking, so she turned it off. When he came back and asked her who it was, she lied.

"It was just a text message from Angela."

Booth knew. That was not her text messaging ringtone. Why would she lie? He decided to pretend he believed her.

It wasn't even 9 pm, but they were both exhausted. He pulled up the comforter and the sheets and slid into bed.

Brennan got up.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to sleep. So that we can leave early tomorrow."

"You shouldn't…"

He caught her off. "Please! Don't make me sleep on the floor!"

She shook her head.

"I wasn't going to ask you to sleep on the floor. I was going to say that you shouldn't use the comforter."

Booth frowned.

"But it's comfortable. That's the only good thing about this room."

He watched her dig through her purse and take out a handheld black light. He burst out in laughter.

"What else have you got in that bag, Mary Poppins?"

She checked. "A flash light, my wallet, my keys, my new manuscript, gum, sunglasses…"

Booth sat up straight. "Oh! You brought your new book? Can…"

"No, you can't read it."

Fine.

She hit the switch on the wall and, once again, the room was pitch-dark.

Booth got nervous. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you why you shouldn't use that comforter."

She flicked on the black light and moved it over the bed. There were glowing spots here and there… mostly everywhere. He thought he knew what that meant, but he verified, just in case.

"Are those…"

"Bodily fluids of all kinds, yes. Could be urine, semen, sweat…"

"Oh, my God!" he yelped, jumping out of bed, nearly knocking her over. She regained her balance by holding onto his shoulders.

She laughed.

"Most motels wash the sheets, they just don't bother with the comforter," she explained.

"Most motels wash the sheets? You mean…"

"You want me to check the sheets, too?"

"No!" Maybe they should. But then, he would never be able to sleep. He shuddered in disgust. He felt dirty. Like there were things crawling on him. "Thanks, Bones. I really needed to know that."

She put the device back in her purse and turned the lights back on. Booth was standing beside the bed, staring at it, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

She sighed and took the comforter off the bed.

"Don't touch it!" he said.

"You still want to sleep under it?"

"Where are you going to put it? You should throw it out the window. Though they're probably painted shut."

"I'm just going to put it in the bathtub."

"What?! No! Our clothes are hanging in there!"

"The fluids are not gonna jump from one fabric to another, Booth."

He cringed. Well, at least that had gotten his mind off of her beautiful legs. He caught his mind trying to figure out what underwear she was wearing and jumped back into bed.

She came back, feeling naked all of a sudden. She pulled on the hem of the shirt to make it longer. Like that was going to work. She hit the switch on the wall. The bedside lamp Booth had turned on was providing enough luminosity for her to reach the bed without bumping into anything. Careful not to touch him, she went to her side of the mattress. Her foot brushed his bare leg. He had taken off his jeans.

"Sorry," she whispered, trying to scoot away from him.

Laying on his back, he stared at the ceiling. It wasn't the first time they shared a bed. They had in Vegas and at the circus, in that trailer. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep.

Brennan could feel the heat emanating from his body. She wondered why her heart was beating so fast. Then, she realized the answer couldn't be simpler. She hadn't had sex in a while. All that tension she was feeling would go away as soon as she would have intercourse with her boyfriend. Then why don't you feel that way around Cal? her mind inquired. Booth turned the light off and she closed her eyes. That was going to be a long night.

That clap of thunder was so loud and near, it startled her.

"Are you scared?" Booth teased.

She didn't reply. He turned on his side.

"Bones?"

"Of course I'm not scared. It's a natural meteorological phenomenon."

Dr. Temperance Brennan, afraid of the thunder? Nah…

"Of course…" he repeated. With every ounce of his being, he resisted the urge to hold her.

"Who do you think killed those four little girls?" she changed the subject.

Everyone knows murder stories are way less scary than thunderstorms…

"I really don't know," he said. "I'm meeting with the parents tomorrow."

"I'd like to go with you," she offered.

"What about Chicago?"

"It can wait."

Booth's smile went unnoticed in the night.

***

Booth's eyes flew open. What was that?

"... Mmm!"

You're kidding me!

"... Mmm! Oh!"

That distinct, but faint, bashing on the wall was clearly coming from the next room.

"... Oh! God! Yes!"

That was a loud one. Booth tried to bury is head under his pillow.

Brennan woke up, wondering if that moaning was from her dream or…

"... Ah! Brian… Mmm."

No. Those were from a real person.

The thuds in the wall became more and more persistent.

Now, that was a little awkward. She hoped Booth was still fast asleep. She dared to look at him… His head was under his pillow. She retained a chuckle and lifted it.

"Booth?" she whispered. "Are you ok?"

"Super," he grumbled.

He could feel the bed shaking slightly from her giggle fit.

"This is not funny…" he said. "We need to sleep!"

"Aw, come on," she murmured, pushing him a little.

"... Oh! Come ! Come for me baby!"

"Aw, man!" Booth pushed both sides of the pillow onto his ears. Brennan couldn't hold her laughs any longer.

The moaning intensified again, they couldn't make out words anymore.

Brennan stopped laughing. She started to get uncomfortable, which was unusual. And she couldn't fall back asleep. She poked Booth again.

"What?" he muffled.

"Do you wanna play cards?"

"Do you have cards?" he asked, still hiding.

She thought about it.

"No. But maybe they have some at the front desk."

"Do you really…"

She pulled on his pillow.

"I can't hear what you're saying."

He turned onto his back.

"Do you really wanna go out in the rain to find cards?"

"I thought you would."

"Sure. I'd love to."

She smiled, but not for long. Booth took advantage of her distraction to take his pillow back. And he disappeared under it.

The cries of pleasure had stopped. She laid back down.

"Booth?" she whispered.

"What?" He was already half asleep.

"I have a question."

"What?"

She lowered her voice even more, trying to conceal the fact that she was giggling. "Do you always hide your face like this during sex?"

He slammed his pillow in her face and turned on his side. Annoyed, he still smiled, because he heard her laugh.

***

They had managed to get some sleep. In fact, Brennan hadn't slept that well in months. The sun was finally shining through the window. She couldn't get up. She was too comfortable. Slowly, careful not to wake him up, she turned her head to him.

But his eyes were open. He was staring at the ceiling when he sensed her eyes on him. He turned to her.

"Good morning," he whispered. His deep morning voice still croaky.

His eyes were slightly smaller than usual, signifying he had just woken up.

"Good morning," she whispered back.

They stayed like this, gazing at one another, in a complete, contented silence for only a few seconds. Brennan's eyes glimmered onto his full lips. She felt inwardly pulled towards him. Suddenly, the intimacy of the moment scared her. She quickly got up. Just in time.

"We should get going. We have 4 sets of parents to see today."

Booth, still in bed, stretched and moaned.

"Give me a sec," he said.

She waited. She had almost kissed him. And waited. Why would she even think about kissing him? She looked at him. Stared.

"Come on! What are you waiting for?"

He couldn't get up just yet. Not while she was looking anyway.

Her foot tapped on the carpet.

"Relax!" he said. That was intended for her. And for him. Mostly for him.

She didn't want to relax. She wanted to get out of there. As fast as possible. Booth was right. That bed was small.

Tired of waiting, she pulled the sheets off of him. Booth's heart stopped. He instinctively went to cover up his groin, but… Why bother? She had seen it.

Brennan's mouth went dry. She forgot to breathe. She tried to tear her eyes away from his boxers. From the tent in the fabric. She breathed in when she really wanted to breathe out, and a faint sound escaped her throat. Something that sounded like "Oh."

He implored his God to make her look away. The more she was staring at it, mouth slightly open, the harder he got. He felt like crying. He had never been more embarrassed in his entire life. And he had been embarrassed a lot.

Brennan's mind went blank. Time accelerated. Or slowed down, she wasn't sure. She couldn't think. All she could do was feel. And boy, was she feeling! She ignored the weakening of her legs, trying to stop her own arousal. She felt nervous, feverish even. It only lasted a second, but against her will, her eyes examined his whole body. He was gorgeous, laying there, half naked, with his muscular arms and torso, and that erection…

She finally shut her eyes and turned around. Knowing Booth, he was probably mortified. Humiliated. He probably wanted to hide.

Booth wanted to die. But he locked himself in the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water, resisted the urge to drown himself in the sink, and got dressed.

Brennan's eyes were still closed. But that image was probably going to stay a while. At last, she regained some composure. And went all clinical on him, which only made the matter worse.

He heard her voice through the walls.

"Nocturnal penile tumescence is a healthy and normal physiological response that most men experience."

Stop it. Sush!

"Morning erections are usually the tail end of a series of night time erections. On average, a healthy male will have three to five erections in a full night of sleep..."

His knuckles turned white, he was squeezing his shirt, burying his face in it. If she says 'erection' one more time, I will kill her.

"… with each erection lasting between 25 to 35 minutes." She was babbling.

Shut up!!! Maybe he could tell her he only wanted to pee…

"It's a common myth that morning erections are caused by a full bladder. This is untrue."

Or not.

"It's just the body's way of making sure everything is functional."

And by what I've seen, you look very functional.

He counted to three. Then to five. Then to ten, and came out of the bathroom. She was dressed and her suitcase was by the door. She tied up her hair in a pony tail. She was ready to go.

"Thanks for the health class lecture," he mumbled.

No problem.

"Ready to go?" she asked, covering up her flushed cheeks by facing the door.

"Yup."

It was becoming impossible for them to pretend nothing was going on. The pile of ignored facts, of imaginary moments was getting stacked. But they could manage one more, right?

They waited at the front desk. The same young man as the previous night appeared.

"You two enjoyed your stay?"

"Sure," Booth responded.

"You might wanna wash the comforter, though," Brennan chimed in.

"Oooh! That was you two! So you really enjoyed your stay," the boy winked.

Booth winced. "No! It wasn't… Not us… it was.. never mind. I just need a receipt."

"Yes, I need your credit card."

Booth took his wallet out of his pocket. "You took it yesterday, why would you need it again?"

"Because when I swiped it last night, the power was out, so it didn't work."

Booth snorted. "You don't say!" He handed him the card.

The employee swiped the card again, punched an amount, and waited for the receipt to print.

"Here you go," he said, handing Booth the paper. "I just need your signature."

Booth took the pen and…

"$174? Are you serious?!"

Brennan approached the counter and checked the amount. Wow.

"Yes, but that includes all the amenities."

"Like what? Access to clean water?"

Booth was clearly taking his frustration out on him.

"Cable TV, wireless Internet, continental breakfast…"

"We didn't get any breakfast," Brennan pointed out.

"It's right there, on the table," he replied. The partners turned around to see a basket of muffins.

"That's your continental breakfast? What continent are you from?"

Brennan put her hand on his arm. "Booth, it's ok. Leave the poor boy alone…"

"Poor? He's not poor! He's taking all my money. There goes my budget for the week."

Brennan tried to settle things. She asked the man behind the counter, "Do you have federal employees discount?"

The boy, who was starting to look indimidated in front of Booth, seemed way more confident in front of a woman.

"I really think you're worth at least $174. I wouldn't mind spending that on you."

Her eyes narrowed a little.

"That's preposterous."

Booth pulled her behind by the shoulders.

"Ok, Webster, come on. Let's go."

He grabbed the receipt and led her out the door.

***

They stopped at a gas station, and while Booth got out of the vehicle to fill up the tank, she turned on her cell. Five messages.

"Great," she mumbled.

The first two were from Angela, asking her for updates. The three others were from Cal. She didn't even bother listening to them all. She called him back.

"Hello?" he quickly answered.

"Hi, it's me, Temperance."

"Finally!" he laughed. "I was getting worried. Is everything ok?"

"Yes, we're fine. We got stuck in this small town because of the rain, but we're…" Enough with the we! "I'm on my way back now."

"I'm sorry you couldn't make it."

"Yeah…"

"Hey, listen, I know you're probably busy, but I'll be in D.C. again on…"

She was staring at Booth, who was paying inside. When she realized what she was doing, she shut her eyes and massaged her forehead, sensing a massive headache was about to ruin her day.

"So I'll see you then?" he confirmed.

"Can't wait," she said. Part of her really meant it. The other side of her, though… She hadn't even listened to what he had just said. This was all Booth's fault. He was getting in the way of everything, seeping through every aspect of her life. She needed to get a grip and put a stop all that nonsense. She would lose her mind, otherwise. And her mind was all she had, really.

***

"The wildlife refuge is 15,978 acres, can't we narrow it down, a little?" Cam asked Hodgins.

"Well… There was no trace of them ever being in contact with the tidal salt marsh, but other than that…"

"In other words, we got nada," Booth summed up. "Not even a definite crime scene."

"I'm sorry."

Booth massaged his temples.

"This is killing me!" he almost yelled.

Brennan stared at her feet. She really hated seeing him that upset. That case was leading them nowhere. They had worked non-stop for a week now. Seven days straight and not even one suspect. How could someone kill four little girls and leave no clue?

"I'll re-examine the bones. Again." Brennan offered.

"Not today," Cam ordered. "We're all gonna… go home. Take a breath."

"We can't go home," Brennan objected. "We have to…"

"Dr. Brennan, we're all fed up going in circles. We need a break, all of us. You two, especially," she said, waving a finger side to side from Booth to Brennan. "We'll start from the beginning tomorrow. We're working weekends; we can take a Friday afternoon off."

Brennan didn't argue. She was way too tired to talk back. Start from the beginning. Right. They never got past the beginning.

"Before you go," Cam added, aiming her words at the partners. "Sweets told me he wanted to see you about the profile he's making."

***

"Take a seat," the young doctor told them. They sat down on the usual couch and watched him close the door. Then lock it.

They both exchanged a puzzled look. Sweets didn't lock the door, usually. They watched him grab a plastic basket and plant himself in front of them.

"Trick or treat?" Booth kidded.

"Cell phones," Sweets simply said.

"What?"

"Turn off your cell phones and put them in the basket."

"What f…"

"Just do it," he said, exasperated.

They both obeyed unwillingly, way too curious to protest any more. Sweets then shut the blinds and slowly walked behind his desk.

"What's going on?" Brennan asked Booth, as if he would know.

Booth shrugged. "He's finally gone mental."

"I don't want anything distracting you both from what I'm about to discuss with you."

"I'm scared," Booth whispered in her ear.

Silence.

He watched Booth. Then Brennan. Then, he finally spoke up.

"What are your plans for tonight?"

Booth laughed and slapped his thigh. Brennan just smiled, intrigued.

"All this mystery just to ask us out? Sweets, we're only human. No need to be star struck!"

"We would love to go out with you. Right Booth?"

"Of course!"

But Sweets wasn't biting this time. He continued talking.

"As of right now, and until tomorrow, you two are not allowed to talk about work. At all."

They both frowned.

"What's this? A new security protocol?" Brennan asked.

"This is an exercise," he clarified.

Booth sighed.

"Why do we have to continue therapy?" Booth started.

"Your book is done," Brennan finished.

Sweets leaned back in his chair and put his hands together.

"These past couple of months, I've sensed friction between the two of you."

"Like that's new…" Booth whispered. Brennan nodded in agreement.

"It seems it has intensified."

They both looked at the carpet at the same time, and Sweets took it has an acknowledgment. He went on.

"The frequency of your bickering has majorly increased. It leaves me no other choice than to address the problem because it's starting to affect your work."

"What?" Brennan interjected, surprised. "That's not true!"

"It's a little true," Booth argued.

She turned to him.

"Things can't be a little true. They're either true or they're not."

"Bones, you have to admit we fight more than usual. We've been on this case for a week and we…"

"You think the case is stagnating because of us?"

"No! I'm just saying…"

"Stop." Sweets tone was firm. "You can't talk about work, remember?" He grinned to lift the mood. "Huh?"

"If our work is affected, why can't we talk about work? It makes no sense."

"I agree. It's a useless experiment."

"It's not an experiment," he corrected her. He joined his hands together and added, "Trust me, would you?"

Brennan nudged Booth.

"He sounded like Yoda, right?"

"Totally! Kind of looks like him, too."

Sweets rolled his eyes at that clear display of bonding against adversity.

"You want us to trust you?" she asked the psychologist. "Then give us the book you wrote about us."

Booth smiled, impressed with her.

"Yeah! Show us the book."

Sweets turned red. "I'm reworking on it. It's not completely finished."

"We don't care."

"We wanna see it."

"Nah… I'm… No. Guys, this is important! For you both and for everyone working with you."

They felt bad. A little bit. Just slightly.

"Did someone complain about us?" Brennan asked.

"Not directly, no."

Ok. Maybe they did have a problem. Maybe. But how was forbidding them to talk about work for half a day going to help? They had plenty of other things they could talk about. They talked all the time! They could talk about Parker, they could talk about… Uhm… …

Crap.

--------------------------------

TBC

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