O, suddenly this has turned into a multi-chap fickie. O, for the wings of a dove.

(yawns) T'is 3am. So very, very tired. BUT, I have been procrastinaing long enough. For Pete's sake. I'm off my arse, and here you go, brand new chapter!

Round Three-Hundred-and-I've Lost Count…

"Bones?" Booth called hesitantly from the doorway of Brennan's apartment. Hearing nothing but eerie silence, he proceeded cautiously into the kitchen, relaxing and simultaneously cocking his head curiously upon seeing his partner. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Booth? What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise. She leant back on her haunches wiping her damp brow with the back of her sleeve.

Booth peered at her closely. "You left this" he produced her Blackberry from his back pocket, "in my car."

Reaching up and taking it, she mumbled: "Thanks."

"What's wrong with your voice? And why are you on the floor?" Booth asked again, raising his eyebrows.

Brennan stood and produced a sound closely resembling a hiss. "Nothing is wrong with my voice." She croaked, contradicting her vehement reply. As if sensing the opportune moment, her face screwed up and she released a noisy sneeze that shook her whole body.

Bemused at her stubborn denial, Booth said: "Bones, you're sick. And did you just hiss at me?"

Brennan swiped at her nose in irritation. "No. Maybe. How did you get in anyway?"

"You left the door unlocked."

"So you forgot to knock?" She remarked dryly.

"I did knock." Pause. "Get dressed in the dark?" He teased with a smile, nodding at her socks.

Looking down, Brennan noted with horror that her socks were unmistakenly miss-matched. On her left foot, vibrant blue dolphins suspended in mid-jump leaped from a white background, while the sock on her right foot sported pink and red love hearts. Brennan looked up at him, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "Um-"

Booth grinned and shoved his hands down his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Why were you on the floor?" He persisted.

"What?"

"The floor. Do you have any chicken soup?"

Eyes glazing over and her focus briefly wandering, she turned to him in confusion. "The stain won't go!"

Booth furrowed his brow. "What stain?"

Brennan shifted sideways, exposing a small smudge on her hardwood floor. She pointed at it, and said almost hysterically, obviously at the end of her tether, "What is it?!"

Glancing at her furtively, Booth crouched down in front of the stain and narrowed his eyes. "Cute dolphins" He jeered playfully.

"What?"

He picked at the stain with his fingernail, at once identifying the "stain" as a sticker. "Your sock." Adding insult to injury, he added, "Singular."

"Oh, shut it." She smacked his shoulder with vapid ardor. "What is it?"

"It's a mystery." He lied, returning to full height. Let her mull over it some more. "Chicken soup?"

Sniffing and glaring disdainfully at the perplexing stain, she asked: "What about it?"

"Do you have any?" Booth huffed impatiently. "You're sick."

"I'm fine."

"Bones-"

"Booth." She mimicked his tone.

"Bones, for God's sake!"

"Blasphemy." She muttered quietly, her eyes huge and round.

"Yeah…well, at least my socks match."

She shot him a sour look and further confused the situation by saying: "I have none."

Exasperated, Booth shook his head. "What?"

"Chicken soup."

"Will you stay on one topic, please!" Booth snapped, raising his voice.

Brennan clicked her tongue at him. "Touchy much?"

"Oh, I'm getting there." Booth confirmed.

"Doesn't matter if I don't have any soup, because I'm not sick." She proclaimed fervently.

"Yes. You are."

Brennan rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"And," Booth continued, sensing her start to crack, "You aren't in the lab."

"And?"

"It's Saturday. You're always at the lab on Saturday."

"It's not mandatory to work on weekends. I don't have to. Maybe I decided I wanted to relax at home." She corrected him tensely.

Booth crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Uh-huh. Because you feel lousy and sick."

Brennan pursed her lips. "I'm fine."

"Stop sniffing then."

"I have hay fever."

"During Winter?"

She shuffled her feet in discomfort. "Yes." Dammit.

"Right..."

Brennan stared wearily at the stain. "It really bugs me!" She puled miserably.

"Bones?"

Her shoulders drooped noticeably. "What?" She asked, her reply nothing but an effete mumble.

"I can go out and get some."

"Soup?"

"Yeah."

Brennan smiled demurely at him. "Good, 'cause I think I'm sick."

Booth closed his eyes and counted to ten.

You know, I wrote this and even I couldn't keep up with the plethora of tangents that were shooting out from every angle. O, win. At life. Humm.