Yep. Here's another one for ya'll. Hee. 'Ya'll.' That sounds so ridiculous coming from a New Zealander. I don't think I'll ever say that again. Not ever.

Thanks to my super hot beta-face, with her cool little editing lables and diagrams that make me laugh and sometimes, sometimes, make me purposefully make mistakes just to see them. They're that cool.

And to my darling Seralis for her silly, albeit helpful ideas. Go do your laundry. Kay? Kay.

NEOSPORIN® is a brand and product of Johnson & Johnson Consumer Products Company Division of Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies, Inc.

(Opposite Day!) I OWN BONES. And: I PWN YOUR LYFEH.

God Help Me…

Booth shifted his weight to his other leg and leant against the doorframe. He tapped the glass of his watch, and then proceeded to let out an audible sigh.

Tempe's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing at his impatience. "Oh for God's sake Booth, we have time!"

He raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't bring God into this, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. "Or what?"

Booth walked into her office, wiggling his fingers at her in a spooky gesture. "God works in mysterious ways; who knows what wrath we shall incur, lest we take his name in vain."

Tempe dropped the pile of folders she was holding onto the already over-flowing desk. "I don't believe in God. I have immunity. The wrath is all yours."

He shook his head. "Doesn't work like that."

Hands on her hips, Tempe answered: "How does it work?"

Booth took a step forward, placing his hands on her desk and leaning over towards her. "Hey, Bones?"

"What?"

"I think you missed the paper." He lifted his hand and stroked one finger along her jaw line.

Tempe flinched in surprise, her brows brought together in confusion. "I don't know what that means. And you didn't explain the God thing."

"You have pen on your face." Booth explained, indicating the marked area by lightly rubbing her skin.

"I do?"

Booth smirked and dropped his hand. "God's wrath…" He muttered cheekily, leaving Tempe's office.

Grabbing her blue lab coat, Tempe yelled, "Wait, Booth!"

Booth stopped and turned around just in time to see his partner fly from her office, lab coat billowing behind her. Skirt ruffling from her brisk movements, Temperance made her way over to him, not noticing the large black equipment case placed directly in her path.

Booth could see exactly what was going to happen. "Bones, look-"

Too late. Tempe knocked into the knee-high case with a loud bang that reverberated off the Jeffersonian walls, and stumbled awkwardly for a few feet before tripping up completely and landing hard on the solid floor.

"-out." Booth finished, rushing forth to his partner slumped ungracefully a few metres away, leaning up on her elbows.

Several pairs of eyes turned to look at the commotion, and Temperance glared at the incriminating case with blush tinted cheeks.

"Bones, are you okay?" Booth asked in concern, kneeling down beside her.

"I'm fine." She brushed him off, flustered and embarrassed by the attention her trip had conjured. The side of her head hurt from where she had landed, and her knee was stinging from where she made contact with the rough material of the outer case.

Booth pursed his lips and pried her hands away from her leg. "Let me see." She removed her hands, and he examined her scraped knee. He grimaced at the angry red scratch that marred her pale skin. "Y'ouch."

Tempe shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "It's not as bad as it looks," She lied. Ow, ow, ow, ow.

Booth looked dubious. "Yeah, right."

"Brennan!" Angela rushed to her best friend's side with wide eyes. "I saw from the corridor-"

"Who didn't see?" Booth mumbled unhelpfully.

Tempe glared at him. "I'm okay, Ange."

"-practically flew through-"

"Angela!"

Angela paused and scanned her eyes down Tempe's body. "Are you hurt?"

Booth and Brennan answered simultaneously. "No."

"Yes."

"Booth, I'm – Ouch!" She slapped his hand away from her scrapped knee, biting her lip and looking disdainfully at his probing fingers.

Angela watched on in amusement, a smile curving on her lips.

He squinted at her wound in all seriousness. "You won't need stiches."

"I know that." She replied hastily, as Booth tugged her to her feet.

Booth ignored her protests as he directed her back into her office. "Can you grab a first-aid kit?" He shot a furtive at the artist behind him.

"Sure. Won't be a second." She said, and disappeared around the corner.

Booth dropped Tempe down on her couch, and she looked up at him in annoyance. "This is unnecessary. I can walk."

"As can I."

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, Angela burst into the room carrying the large green first-aid kit, her chest heaving.

Tempe raised a tapered eyebrow. "Did you run?"

"What – no! I jogged."

"We weren't going anywhere." She reasoned.

"You'll be okay?" She asked, and they both nodded. Angela practically dumped the kit into Booth's lap before dashing out of the room as fast as she had entered it.

"Angela?"

"It's Wednesday!" She yelled on her way out.

Brennan's mouth formed an 'O' in understanding, and she reached for the kit in Booth's hands.

"It's Wednesday? How does that make any sense?" Booth asked her, pulling the kit from her reach when she leaned over to take it.

"What makes no sense?"

He made a sweeping motion with his hand. "The Wednesday thing."

Tempe blinked. "It's laundry day."

"What?"

"The day you do your wash-"

Booth interrupted her impatiently. "I know what laundry day means, Bones."

"Then why did you-"

"What I want to know is why it's relevant." He opened the lid to the kit and snooped around in it.

Distracted and beyond confused, Brennan asked, "Relevant to what?"

Booth pulled out a small bottle of Neosporin and found cotton swath to dab it on with. "Why she was in a hurry."

"Because she has to do her laundry." She answered slowly.

Booth hung his head briefly, before gripping her leg roughly and pulling her towards him.

"Hey!-"

"Everything you say needs to be explained, and when you explain something, that needs to be explained too."

"You didn't explain the God thing." She accused.

"I guess we're even then." He gave her a smirk and lifted her knee in the air so he could put a pillow beneath it.

"It isn't like I'm incapable of doing this myself." Tempe mumbled, while Booth pushed up the hem of her skirt to reveal her knee. He avoided looking at the expanse of her naked thigh while he cleaned the cut. He struggled with that.

She hissed when he touched her open wound with the anti-bacterial ointment. Booth glanced up at her with a wry grin. She narrowed her eyes at him. "This isn't funny." He said nothing, but she saw his shoulders shudder with silent laughter. "It's not."

She poked him. Hard. "Stop laughing at me."

"It was right in the middle of the room. How could you not see it? It was huge."

"The case?"

"Yeah." He searched through the kit again for plasters. When he found some, he felt his face nearly split from the smile he couldn't help but display.

Tempe clicked her tongue, and looked at him suspiciously. "What now?"

He held up his hand. She peered closely at the plasters and bit down on her tongue. What did he expect? This was a Museum.

"These are cool." He approved.

Tempe rolled her eyes and wiggled her leg. "This year, please."

Booth chuckled at her comment. "Where'd you learn that?"

She sat thinking, then, "I wasn't born in a tent."

He patted her leg affectionately. "We're definitely going to be late, now." Booth teased, but stopped when she looked away guiltily. "What are a few minutes, anyway?" He said carelessly, trying to shift her guilt.

"I'm guessing the prosecutor won't be pleased."

Too bad for him, then. Booth thought.

"Done." Booth announced dramatically, before standing up to clear the mess he'd made. Tempe looked down at her knee. She almost smiled at the green and brown Dinosaurs that decorated the plaster. Booth watched her as she examined herself. "Parker would be so jealous if he saw that."

"He likes Dinosaurs?"

"Obsessed. I was like that when I was a kid, too."

Brennan removed the pillow from beneath her knee, stood up and pushed her skirt back down. "So was I."

Booth stopped what he was doing and cocked his head at her. "What, no Barbies?" He jeered playfully.

She shot him a petulant look. "I hate dolls."

He grinned. "I believe you."

She sighed and gestured to her knee. "Thanks for…this."

"Sure, Bones," He pointed to the door. "We should go."

Tempe shrugged off her lab coat. "We're late?"

"Very late."

When she had gathered all the necessary paperwork, they made their way to the car, Booth remarking boldly how the equipment case had been smartly pushed to the side of the wall, earning a justified smack on his arm.

"Wednesdays," Brennan started to explain while getting into the SUV, "…is laundry day because you have to wash everything before Thursdays, because Thursdays are the 'drying days', where everything has to dry before Friday, because Friday is the day you go out, and the weekend is when you need clean clothes."

Booth paused. "What?"

"Now, explain the God thing."

Booth turned the car off, turned around in his seat, and asked: "Are you concussed?"

Baptized in the river. I've seen a vision of my life. And I want to be delivered.

(But I swear I'm a believer).

That song. In my head. Constantly. Sshhh. Just, sshhh.