Spoilers: None. Though there is one episode reference, but I don't know the name of the episode.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah.

Author's Note: 'Sleepfulness' is not a word, just so you know. But it works, so...FLUFF alert! I'm personally very proud of this chapter, so tell me what you think!

Brennan took a deep breath, somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She snuggled down into the warmth that lay beside her; it felt damn good.

Booth was only half conscious when he felt moving beside him. Subconsciously, he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Eyes still closed in the daze of sleepfulness, she hooked her leg around his thigh, liking the feeling of being close to him.

His breathing tickled her cheek, and her breath hitched; her lips parted. He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and she smiled sleepily, turning her head so that their lips were almost touching. His breath danced with hers, making them both shudder slightly, as he continued to hold her snugly against him.

He grazed his lips against hers; barely touching, but they both felt it. Their breathing was becoming perfectly synchronized, and she tasted his breath; felt it on her lips. He continued this, stroking her lips ever so lightly with his own, never moving them, though; never kissing her.

But this was better than kissing. Much, much better.

Her eyes were still shut when she whispered his name instinctively.

"...Bones..." He returned the whispered greeting, saying her name huskily.

Suddenly, both their eyes flew open. "Booth!" Brennan was horrified. Booth! She'd been doing that with Booth! Before he had time to respond, she shoved at him, trying to get him off her. She hadn't realized, however that he was indeed the one against the back of the couch, and she went tumbling to the floor, smacking her head on the coffee table on the way down.

She instantly put her hand to her temple. Great, she thought. I'm bleeding.

"Ow. Dammit!" She stood up, meaning to make her way to Booth's bathroom, when she suddenly remembered where she was. Uh oh.

Booth had seen her fall to the floor, and tried to grab her, but after their little...episode, his reflexes were a little out of whack. He watched her head hit the table, and sat up automatically, reaching out for her. "Bones! Bones, you okay?"

"Ow. Dammit!" came her reply. He guessed not. She stood up and began to sway slightly. Concussion?! Perfect, he thought wryly. He was up just in time to grab her as she started falling.

"Booth," she scolded. "I've hit my head before, you know? I'm perfectly capable of going into the bathroom, getting a band-aid and sticking it on my head by myself." She wasn't sure whether to be angry at Booth for what had happened only a few minutes ago, or for being patronizing.

He was slightly hurt by her sarcasm, but at least she was talking to him. After the reality of what had happened between the two had hit him, he was sure she would have left. He silently thanked the coffee table, cursing it at the same time.

"Bones, you can't even stand up by yourself," he retorted, almost softly. "Besides, you don't know where everything is, do you?" What Booth didn't realize, though, was that most of her dizziness was his fault, not the horribly misplaced table's.

She shook her head and the room spun as she fell into his arms again. He was happy to keep her there. Brennan, on the other hand, was obviously not liking this idea, as she shrugged him off, squirming out of his grasp. She started making her way to the bathroom, slowly grabbing everything and anything to help her stay upright.

She paused every few seconds, closing her eyes, and taking a breath, steadying herself. The only problem was, every time she did this, she remembered the feel of his lips, the taste of his breath, and she was not enjoying the idea of opening her eyes again. Ever.

She got to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath, yawning. Booth was right behind her. He walked calmly over to the cabinet and pulled out a pack of Superman band-aids. She looked at him quizzically.

"Parker," he amended. The name sent an awkward feeling through both of them, as they remembered Booth's situation the night before. Booth looked almost lovingly at the little cartoons on the box, and Brennan was suddenly calm. She couldn't be angry at Booth. At least not now.

He snapped out of his reverie, and moved over to her with a damp washcloth. He was surprisingly clean for a single man, she observed. "Here," he said quietly, handing it to her, afraid. He was trying to be casual. It wasn't working.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you." Professionally.

"You're welcome." He tried to emulate her formality, but couldn't get his mind off her. They both smiled politely. She put the cloth to her head, hissing slightly, wincing. "I have an idea..." Brennan's curiosity equaled exactly nothing. Booth's ideas generally revolved around very little relevance.

Her curiosity was instantly peaked, however, when he took hold of her hand, lightly removing the cloth from her head. She had meant to yell at him, but she couldn't form any words.

Moving closer, he put one hand on either side of her head, weaving his fingers delicately through her hair. There was no reason he couldn't make this fun. He blew lightly on the graze, cooling it. It felt better almost immediately.

Involuntarily, her eyes closed, and her breath hitched. He would be the death of her. He pulled away, only to find out that her eyes were still closed. He felt rather proud of himself, now. He stifled a grin; he thought she would have hit him for that. Or worse: left.

He pulled a Superman riddled band-aid from the box, and she almost giggled. How stupid it seemed: A grown woman, a world renowned scientist and novelist, with Superman plastered on her forehead.

He saw her smiling and felt much more confident than he had a few seconds ago. He moved back over to her, and looked her in the eye, almost cautioning her. She kept smiling slightly, and he took this as an 'okay'.

He hooked a finger under her chin, making her tense. It reminded her of another time: "...There's more than one kind of family..."

Booth held her chin in place, rather unnecessarily, as he placed Superman over her cut. He smiled at the look of it: The Doctor Temperance Brennan, in his bathroom, wearing Superman.

Almost instinctively, he leaned forward, still holding her chin, and kissed the band-aid lightly. Her eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't take much more of this. Especially from Booth.

Booth cleared his throat, realizing what he'd just done. "It's, uh...supposed to, uh...help with the...you know..." He stuttered almost pathetically under her gaze.

She opened her mouth to say something, and shut it almost immediately. She was speechless. What could she say at a time like this? 'Oh, okay, well, thank you. I'm off!'?

Her main problem was: it was either that, or kiss him. And she didn't want to do either. Well, quite honestly, she wanted to do both, but either way would end badly.

As she pondered this, finding it very hard to concentrate with Boot's face so close to hers, she heard a shrill ringing. Great timing, she scolded the caller. She wasn't sure whether to be mad or relieved at this interruption.

Booth watched her closely. She was thinking extremely hard about something. He hoped it was him, because he would feel rather ridiculous finding out that he was the only one affected this severely by their current positions.

She sat on the edge of the bath, hands either side of her. He was crouched in front of her, one hand still on her shoulder, their faces barely two inches apart. He had a horrible feeling that this moment would make or break their relationship. He hoped to God it was the prior, but every cell in his brain screamed the latter.

He was just about to move when he heard his phone ring, dragging him out of his thoughts. He silently cursed whoever it was that was calling him.

He continued to stare at her a few seconds longer, not wanting to break eye contact, not wanting to lose the moment, but he knew that the phone call was something important. It always was.

Reluctantly, he dragged his hand off her shoulder, mourning the loss of contact. She nodded slightly, acknowledging his obligation. He stood up straight, never breaking eye contact. He smiled at her and walked out of the room.

Damn, they both thought as he left.