A fairly lighthearted follow-up to the last chapter. Hope you enjoy, as always.

Disclaimer: Bones is still not mine. Figures.

The Prank of the Partners

She opens her eyes to a dark ceiling and just lies there for a moment, trying to orient herself. It's still dark, and she feels unusually groggy. Where is she? And why does her head hurt like she's gone through a concussion?

Slowly, painfully, she sits up. There's a crick in her neck, and she tries to work it out for a moment before looking around.

She's in her living room on the couch, a blanket from her room draped over her. She's confused as to how she got there until she turns to the left and finds Booth slumped in the armchair next to the couch, his shoes kicked off and his gun and badge on the coffee table. His eyes are shut, and he's snoring softly. Even in sleep, there are shadows under his eyes, and she feels a pang of guilt. He's obviously been worried about her; the twenty or more missed calls on her answering machine are testament enough to that.

Looking at him, she remembers what happened, and a quiet thrill shoots through her. They'd talked. It had all come out. There are no more secrets now. She had…she had broken and he had caught her. Like he always does.

Slowly, she throws off the blanket and swings her legs to the side of the couch, intending to head for the kitchen silently. But the moment she moves, Booth opens his eyes and yawns, blinking sleepily.

"You awake, Bones?" he asks blearily.

She stops and glances at him. "Yes. How did…What happened after?"

"You fell asleep," he says, stretching his arms with another yawn. "I put you on the couch and sat down for a little. I really didn't mean to stay, but I guess…" He shrugs drowsily. "Sorry."

"No," she answers softly. "I'm glad you stayed." And she is glad. Even if they've let all the words out, even if they've stopped building walls and hiding, there are still things to talk about. There are still so many issues they need to work out. This is far from over.

He manages a smile and peers at her, squinting slightly in the darkness. "You okay, Bones?" he asks, his voice soft.

Okay? What does okay mean? There are so many things she can say. Instinctively, she opens her mouth to say, "Yes, Booth, I'm fine," but it feels like a lie even before she says it. She hasn't lied to him all night, and she doesn't want to start now. She wants this type of honesty—this type of baring the soul and the heart which hurts but heals at the same time—to last forever.

"I'm not okay," she says finally, haltingly. "Not…not yet. But I will be." They've taken a step in the right direction. She just needs time now. They both do.

Booth nods understandingly, and a look into his eyes tells her that he truly does understand. She hasn't let her feelings spill in so many years that it's exhausting to do so now. But it feels so good. She feels so much lighter, like a metaphorical weight has lifted off her shoulders. She has taken a step toward that light at the end of the tunnel. And the first step, she knows, is always the hardest.

"Okay," he says. "That's good. It's better than last night."

"Better," she agrees, nodding. She glances at his suit jacket, remembering the way her tears soaked it, and winces. "Sorry about…about crying all over you."

He smiles. "It's okay. It's better than okay. My shoulder's yours, Bones, whenever you need it." She's about to thank him for that when he grins and says, "It's better than you crying on some other guy's shoulder."

She laughs. It's incredible, really, the way he can make her laugh even when she's so tired and worn. That must be part of why she loves him, why she can't get enough of him.

That and his laugh. When he laughs too, her heart feels lighter than it has in weeks.

"What time is it?" he asks, yawning yet again.

She cranes her neck around to catch sight of the clock over her mantelpiece. "Five-thirty."

He groans and stretches his arms again. "I have to get going. I have to get home, shower, and get to the Hoover Building at seven-thirty for a meeting with Hacker."

He starts up and freezes midway, a grimace flashing across his face. He obviously tries to hide it, but it's too clear, even in the dark.

"Your back," she says in instant concern, hurrying to his side. "You shouldn't have slept in the chair."

He laughs shortly. "Well, I couldn't exactly invite myself to your queen-sized bed in there." With a groan, he straightens slightly and reaches for his badge and gun.

"Don't," she says. "Stay. You're in no condition to be driving, and if you drove back to your apartment now, you would have barely any time to prepare."

He hesitates for a moment before asking, "You're okay with that?"

She lets out a long sigh, then a smile. "Booth. I was…angry with you yesterday, but I think it's passed. At least, it doesn't feel so important now. I think the worst of it is over." The pain is out, the truth is uncovered. Booth said things she needed to hear, and now all that's left to do is heal and try, try, to get back to that place they had before Hannah, before Maluku.

He seems to be thinking along the same lines. With a slow, serious smile, he says, "Thank you, Bones. For opening up to me. I know that must have been hard on you, and I don't…I don't want you to think you owe anything to me anymore. I get it. I'll accept it. And I want to work to get our partnership back."

"I do too," she says sincerely, and a relieved smile spreads across his face. She smiles back because it feels good, to be on his side again. To not fight each other, or fate, but for each other. It's been a long, long time since she felt like his partner, and to fit into that niche of his life again makes her feel right for the first time since they returned to Washington.

"We did all right," Booth says softly, tucking his badge and gun away at his waist. He sounds contemplative, musing. "We did all right, didn't we? We made a mess of what we had, and it hurt both of us for a long time, but we came out all right on the other end."

She smiles. "Yes, we did." Not whole, not undamaged, but all right. Able to move beyond the past and onto the future. "The center always holds," she reminds him.

He grins in response to those words from long ago. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? I think the problem was we hadn't been the center for a long time. Now we're together again, and it…well, to me, it's right. Like we fell into some nightmare and just woke up."

She knows the feeling. With a quiet smile, she stands and moves toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Do you want me to get you something to eat?"

"Is it a nutrition bar or something?" Booth calls back, picking up his suit jacket and shaking it out. "Or do you have any real food back there?"

"Nutrition bars are real food," she replies. "They're quite healthy for their calories, as opposed to your eggs and bacon."

He groans and loosens his tie further. "I'll just pick up something on the way to the Hoover. You mind if I use your shower?"

Poking her head in the nearly-empty refrigerator, she calls, "No, go ahead. Don't take all the hot water, though."

He chuckles, his voice muffled as he moves to the bathroom. "No problem."

The sound of water drowns out any other words he might have said, so she turns her attention back to the kitchen. He's right; she really does have little in her apartment that he would consider "real food." She considers feeding him some of her nutrition bars and quickly decides against it. After what he did for her the night before—hold her when all she could do was break, break, break—she wants to do what she can for him. So she slips on her coat and her boots, and tramps down the stairs of her apartment. Outside, across the street, there's a small breakfast diner with almost no one in it. She orders a generous heaping of eggs, toast, and bacon and piles it all into a takeout container. Tucking her free hand in her pocket, she crosses the street with the steaming carton in her other hand.

"Hey, Temperance!"

She pauses in front of her apartment building, glancing up automatically. At the sight of who called her, she groans and averts her gaze, wondering if it's too late to escape into the building. But he calls out to her again, and she has no choice but to stop, a wide, fake smile plastered across her face.

"Hey," he repeats, breathing out hard as he catches up to her. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been busy," she returns evenly, hoping to head off any further attempts at conversation. "I'm actually heading home right now, so…"

"I'll walk you," he offers, smiling widely.

"I'd rather you didn't, Ben," she says, narrowing her eyes.

Ben laughs and holds up his hands. "Hey, we live in the same building. You can't say no to me."

"I can and I will," she replies through gritted teeth. "I don't understand you. I've told you again and again that I'm not interested and that I'll never be interested."

He winces, though she can tell he's not really hurt. That smile still on his face is testament enough to that. "Hey, that was harsh. I know I've been trying to ask you out for a while, but it doesn't mean I'm desperate. You're gorgeous, and…" An idea seems to hit him and he asks slyly, "…and you're playing hard to get, aren't you?" He misinterprets her silence for agreement and lets out a hoot. "So I was right! Will you go out with me this time? Tonight? I know this nice place a couple streets away—"

"No, I don't to," she says brusquely, annoyed. "I have refused you again and again, and I assure you, I'm not playing hard to get. I'm not interested."

Ben grins widely, as if he hadn't heard her. That's what irritates her about him the most—the fact that he absolutely does not, as Booth would put it, "get the hint."

With a huff, she tries to push past him, but Ben keeps on her heels as she climbs the stairs to her building. He asks her a question, but she ignores him pointedly.

"You don't have to be so cold," he says, sounding injured. His expression belies the emotion in his voice though, and her irritation swells. "I'm nice to you, Tempe. I mean, I carry your stuff up the stairs, I walk you to your car when I can, I do anything you ask me to do…"

"That's the point," she growls. "I don't ask you to do anything." Climbing the last couple of flights of stairs, she pauses at the top and turns. "Please stop bothering me."

He shakes his head, that infuriating cocky grin on his face. On Booth, the cocky grin looks right. On Ben, it makes her want to wipe it off his face with her fist.

Booth.

Suddenly, she's struck with an idea. It's so juvenile and silly that she has to stifle a laugh. But it might work, and she knows Booth would have no problem with it. So, with a smile, she glances shyly at him and says, "Actually, Ben, I have to show you something. Will you wait in the hallway here for a moment?"

Triumph flares in his eyes, and his face splits into a wide grin. She feels almost bad for him in that moment—he seems to sincerely like her, after all—but remembering the weeks she's spent with him tailing her up and down the apartment building solidifies her resolve. With a wave, she opens the door to her apartment and closes it behind her.

Hurriedly, she lays the carton of breakfast down on her kitchen counter and rushes to the bathroom. Without thinking, she yanks open the door, his name on her lips.

"Bones!" Booth yelps from the other side, snatching his dress shirt up from the bathroom counter and holding it in front of his body. "What the hell?"

Oh. In her hurry, she'd forgotten about his almost-humorous modesty. She's actually glad for his modesty this time, because even though she didn't see anything, she's already blushing at the thought of it. She's much more woman than scientist after last night, and it shows now. Quickly shutting the door again, she blocks the image of his body out of her mind and asks through the door, "Booth, would you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Bones—if you promise to quit doing things like that! I mean, I'm naked in here!"

He sounds so exasperated it makes her smile. For a man who claims to be so sure about his sexual prowess, he can be surprisingly insecure. "Can you dress quickly, then?" she calls back. "I need to ask you something."

A moment later, he yanks open the door, his dress pants pulled on and his white dress shirt half-buttoned. "What?"

"Let me just explain quickly," she tells him, leading him to the living room. "For the past few weeks—actually, maybe for the last month and a half, a man in my apartment building has been propositioning me."

"Propositioning you?" Booth echoes incredulously, his expression caught between outrage and shock. "As in—sex?"

She shakes her head, not bothering to hide a smile at his absolutely scandalized look. "He's been asking me on dates, and he's been quite persistent about it. I've told him that I'm not interested, but he doesn't seem to understand me."

Booth clenches his jaw. "One of those guys." He glances at her and raises an eyebrow. "You want me to scare him off?"

She grins. "I was thinking…well, we haven't had fun together in a while."

Fun. The last time she can remember having fun with Booth was the aquarium, and everything went downhill after that. She figures they can definitely use a laugh after the exhausting events of the night before—she can, at least.

Apparently, Booth can too. The anger in his eyes lessens at her words and he glances at her in amusement. "Are you talking about setting him up for something?"

It sounds much more childish when he says it out loud. It sounds as if she's back in high school, preparing to exact her revenge on the popular quarterback who stuck rats in her locker.

It sounds like fun.

"He's outside," she says, grinning. "Could we…?"

He looks at her, at her wide smile, and laughs. "Can we? What are you planning?"

"Maybe you could be my boyfriend?" she suggests, without thinking. And then she realizes what she's said—boyfriend. Suddenly, she's kicking herself—metaphorically, of course—for even bringing this up. The subject of love and commitment is so raw between them right now. They'd just let a river of emotions spew the night before, just found their way back to their tentative friendship, and she wants to introduce tension to it all over again? Is she just stupid or what?

"Never mind," she says hastily. "I'll just tell him to leave."

Booth catches her wrist gently but firmly. "Bones…" He hesitates for a moment before saying, "You can tell me anything, you know. It isn't going to drive me away. I know…I know you aren't ready for anything more. You might not ever be ready. So I won't push you or anything, if that's what you're afraid of. And I won't be hurt by it either." He gives her a slightly-forced smile and says, "So, boyfriend?"

Of course he won't push her. He's always been so good—too good—for her. Friends…it means they can do things like pretend and not feel uncomfortable about it. He's making it clear that he has no expectations for anything more. He'll take it all in stride, as much as she can. And that's exactly what she needs right now.

"Boyfriend," she repeats after a moment, smiling again. Suddenly bold, she unbuttons his shirt and strips it off him in a quick, economical motion. At his incredulous look, she says offhandedly, "I think it makes a more convincing image."

A few seconds pass before he laughs slowly, shaking his head in some kind of disbelief, and shrugs. "So what should I say?"

"You're good at being intimidating," she answers encouragingly, moving toward the door. Quickly, she pulls it open and finds Ben just on the other side, just as she expected.

"Temperance," he says warmly, his eyes bright. "I'm glad you've finally come around. What did you want to show me?"

She has to stifle her giggle; she hasn't felt this much like a high school girl in a long, long time. "Actually, Ben, I wanted you to meet someone." Turning, she opens her mouth to introduce Booth, only to find that he's gone. Her brow creasing in confusion, she glances back into her apartment. "Booth?"

Ben peers past her. "Is there someone in there?" His grin widens, and he says, "Aw, are you trying to make me jealous?"

Only he can be this irritating. Only him. Scowling, she snaps, "No, actually, my boyfriend is here."

"You don't have to play that hard to get," Ben laughs. "You haven't been with anyone in all the weeks I've known you—you haven't even shown anyone else you're interested—and you expect me to believe you suddenly got a—"

"Temperance?"

Her name coming off of Booth's lips sends an incomprehensible thrill through her, along with an edge of confusion. Is he calling her by her real name to familiarize the situation? To prove to Ben that he knows her intimately? What perplexes her even more is the slight purr he ends her name with, the caress in his voice. Ben's eyes widen, and even she's startled. Has his voice always been this…appealing?

"Temperance?" he repeats, coming up behind her. His hand grips the door above her head and pulls it open wider. "Who's this?"

Ben stares at him, and Brennan takes a moment to stare at him too. He's changed all of a sudden—no longer modest, quiet Booth but a man who obviously has no problem with showing off his body and no little amount of cockiness about it either. His hair, still wet from the shower, is tousled in a way that looks like he just toweled it. He's bare-chested like she left him, but now his pants clasps are undone too, leaving his dress pants hanging low on his hips in a way that leaves her dry-mouthed. Staring at him now, she understands for the first time why he can wear his Cocky belt buckle without any qualms whatsoever.

"Booth," she manages, her voice just a little uneven. Apparently he hears the slight waver, because the side of his lip turns up ever-so-slightly.

"Who are you?" Booth asks, leaning on the doorframe with his arm above her.

"Ben Jones," he answers slowly, still obviously disbelieving. "I live in the apartment just above Temperance's."

"Is that right?" Booth takes his time extending his hand. "I'm Seeley Booth, her boyfriend."

There's a way he says boyfriend that sends a shiver through her. She ignores it for now, brushes it away to the recesses of her mind.

Ben shakes his hand slowly before breaking into a slow grin. "You aren't really her boyfriend, are you?"

Booth cocks an eyebrow, the look in his eye so arrogant that Brennan has to turn her face slightly to hide a smile. "What makes you say that?"

At Booth's non-answer, Ben's smile widens, and he continues more confidently. "Well, I've never seen you around. Temperance is always alone. I figured she didn't have anyone, and I'm right, aren't I? I've seen her for months, and I've never seen you. So what did she do? Pay you? Ask you to pose as her boyfriend?"

Brennan winces, because that's exactly what she's done. But Booth's expression doesn't waver, but he does take on a bored look to his gaze, as if Ben isn't worth his time. She marvels at the way he seamlessly takes on a new character and personality. She's seen his abilities before when they've gone undercover, but it's different when it's not on the job. She doesn't know how, but it's different.

"I'm her boyfriend, buddy," Booth answers, yawning lazily. "You can believe what you want, but that's the truth."

"This is what you wanted to show me?" Ben asks her, sounding confused. "I thought…"

"I told you I wasn't interested," Brennan replies firmly. "This is why. He's why."

"I don't believe it." Ben shakes his head slowly, and Brennan suppresses a groan; will the man never get the hint?

Booth's eyes harden ever-so-slightly, and he says casually, "I don't have time for this; I'm already late. Did you see where I put my gun, Temperance?"

She's confused by his question until Ben's eyes fly open wide in shock, and then she understands. Of course. What better way to intimidate a man than to introduce a gun to the mix?

"Yes, I think you left it on the dresser," she says, equally offhandedly. "Next to your badge?"

There's a spark of amusement in Booth's eyes that warms her. He leans down and nudges her ear with his lips, whispering, "You catch on quick, Bones." And then, to complete the scene, he kisses her quickly on the forehead. It may look confident and casual, but she can feel his hesitation in the motion. His lips barely brush her skin before he pulls away. His smile is cocky, but his eyes are worried. She can see that it was an impulse to him, to kiss her like that. And, somehow, it doesn't make her heart ache to feel his lips against her skin, like it might have a day before. Somehow, it feels right.

She smiles wide to show him that it's all okay, and the relief floods his gaze before he turns and slips back into the apartment.

"G—gun?" Ben manages once Booth is gone.

Brennan allows herself a lazy, triumphant smile. "He's an FBI agent. And he's very possessive. You should stop bothering me. He uses his handcuffs very liberally."

"H—handcuffs?"

He must be in shock. Brennan can't help but smile in response, trying not to laugh aloud. Somehow, her voice comes out steadily. "Yes. I'm afraid he's quite aggressive as well." The writer in her takes Booth's "aggressiveness" and runs with it. "Last week in a bar, he broke a man's jaw for asking me for a dance too persistently."

Some of the shock leaks from his eyes. "You're lying. He couldn't have—"

Booth chooses that moment to reappear, his dress shirt buttoned up and his badge in hand. His gun is tucked in very visibly at his hip holster.

"Never mind, I don't have to go to work today," he says with a sigh, without even a glance at Ben.

She gives him a curious look. "Why not?"

"Remember that case I was telling you about yesterday?"

She remembers no such thing, but she nods anyway, wondering where he's going with this.

"Well, the guy I hit ended up in the hospital."

She raises an eyebrow, suppressing the smile that threatens to break across her face. "Bad?"

Booth shrugs. "Doctors aren't sure if he'll wake up. Jeez, guy can't take a hit? I didn't put him through the wall that hard." He sighs in annoyance again and rubs a hand through his wet hair, continuing as if he doesn't see Ben's horrified expression. "So I've been suspended until further notice. Come on, it's not the first time I've knocked someone out."

"You poor thing," she manages. Any more words and she'll be doubled over in laughter at the look of pure aggressiveness in Booth's eyes and terror in Ben's. With a sigh of her own, she turns back to Ben and asks innocently, "So did you want anything else?"

He backs away slowly, shaking his head. "Nah, it's uh…it's okay."

"Are you sure?" Booth calls from over her shoulder. "We're having dinner tonight. Pizza. You want to join us?"

"Maybe some other time," Ben stammers.

"Hey, I might call you some time," Booth says as the other man backs away. "Some of the boys at the FBI and I like to go out for drinks. A pretty exclusive thing, but I could get you in. It's…" Booth winks and grin. "Well, let's just say it's always more exciting with a few drinks knocked back."

"It was nice meeting you," Ben blurts before he turns on his heel and practically flees around the corner. She and Booth exchange glances before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh God," Booth chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. "That was priceless. Did you see his face?"

"The last bit was a nice touch," she tells him, giggling like she hasn't giggled since graduate school. "You're quite intimidating when you try, Booth."

"You're not too bad yourself," he answers, raising an eyebrow at her. "You were stringing him on like a pro. I broke some guy's jaw?"

She shrugs. "I figured you would do something like that or something equally severe if someone had propositioned me in bar."

"Oh yeah," Booth says with a wide smile. "I would have put him through the wall so hard the doctors wouldn't be sure if he'd wake up."

And they fall into sniggers again, turning back to her apartment and shutting the door.

Thoughts? :)