Chapter 13: To Miss A Kiss

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"Brought you a present," grunted Booth, setting the thermos on her desk with a soft tic that grated on Brennan's spine and hurt her aching head. She had cotton mouth and though she was indoors, had yet to remove her sunglasses and not out of vanity. She raised the thermos to her lips, expecting coffee and instead sighing at the cool bitter taste.

"Thanks Booth," she said, shoulders slumping and two more syllabic tics followed onto her desk; aspirin. She downed them both with her cooling cup of coffee before sipping more out of the thermos.

"That was…some night," he groaned. Brennan couldn't even muster a tired chuckle.

"Let's never do that on a Sunday again." Angela came cheerfully skipping in.

"How are the two love birds?" she chirruped, "And your face Brennan? No need to wear those monstrous fly eyes." She yanked the lenses over Brennan's slowed reaction time and put them on the table. Both Booth and Brennan were cringing at her high pitched feverish excitement.

"Hello to you too Angela," grumbled Booth and slunk away to find a dark, quiet place for his aching head.

"Your eye looks loads better; the stitches are healing nicely."

"I get them out later this week," said Brennan evenly, hitching her control back into place. "I can only imagine what comments I'll receive though." She sighed heavily; so much had taken place since Angela had seen her. First Padme and Jared, then her father and her mother…

Angela's stunned sputtering and monstrous coughing suddenly filled the room as she attempted to hack up a lung.

"Brennan," she croaked, crooking her fingers at the cold coffee. Brennan hurriedly passed her the cup. She swallowed, the gulps sounding almost outrageously loud. "That is not coffee," she managed to wheeze pointing an accusing finger at the thermos Booth had dropped off. Brennan nodded daintily.

"I am aware."

"What," gasped Angela still clutching a hand to her burning throat and chest, "is that?"

"I believe," said Brennan, trying to remain clinically detached but a smile breaking the façade, "it's a mixture of scotch and tequila."

"It's 9:00 in the morning Brennan," heaved Angela, still coughing into a fist.

"I need it," she grunted, mimicking Booth. Angela's disgusted burning lungs suddenly filled with air, ready to spew questions a mile a minute. Her wide mouth broke into an outrageously flirtatious grin.

"Oh really. What did you and Booth do last night Brennan? More…limbo?"

"No," said Brennan, for once at ease with the teasing. "We were…experimenting," she said evasively.

"Sounds like college," said Angela wistfully, "God I miss those days."

Brennan made a sound like agreement as she mused back over the previous evening.

"What do you want to do now Bones?" Booth was driving, as always, Brennan feeling a little more worse for the wear from being on her feet all day. Plus her face was starting to throb.

"Can we have a beer?" she suggested.

"Ice cream and beer? Bones, you're going to fatten me up!"

"That's my evil plan all along," she nodded sagely, "fatten you up and put you in the oven." Booth glanced askance at her.

"What?"

"From Hansel and Gretel," she said, hurt that he didn't get the cultural reference.

"That's not exactly how the story goes." She pouted until he crowed,

"Better than beer, look at that!" They had come up on a liquor store. "I'm thinking single malt scotch."

"Can we have legitimate cups this time," teased Brennan, "not those crumpled paper ones?"

"You loved those, don't even deny it," rumbled Booth with a laugh, pulling into the lot.

10 minutes later they were at her apartment, Booth's overnight clothes heaped in a corner of the room sitting on a blanket on the couch.

"What shall we drink to?" she mused, toasting her shot glass to Booth. He likewise raised his.

"To missed opportunities."

"I'll drink to that." They took a shot. Booth refilled the two, finger length glasses.

"To all those times I wanted to kiss you," laughed Booth, "but refrained." They took a shot.

"Ditto." They took another shot. His face lit up with little boy delight.

"Let's take a shot for every time I missed a kiss." Brennan clinked her glass.

"Okay. First time – I should have kissed you on our second case. On the shooting range."

"Amen." They chased their spit with burning scotch.

"When we went to Washington and all those dumb hicks were dancing with you." Brennan laughed.

"I'll drink to that one. If for my own sake!"

"Okay, you go then little miss smart aleck."

"When…" she mused, "You first found out I was a foster kid."

"You were good with the little boy," he shrugged, downing the alcohol. She followed suit and nodded the go ahead at him.

"When your ex-professor Michael showed up; God I wanted to slug him. I should have kissed you outside the court room, when that jury consultant was picking on you."

"Exactly!" said Brennan a little wildly, gesticulating with flair. "Yeah. Why didn't you do that?"

"You're turn," he teased, dodging the question.

"During the Christmas we were locked in." They drank.

"In Los Angeles." Another shot.

"In Vegas." They both laughed giddily.

"Oh Vegas should be in a category all its own," smoldered Booth. "I swear to God I almost took you in that bed then and there." Brennan was flushed from pleasure, embarrassment, and arousal.

"Playing air guitar."

"Foreigner!" shrieked Brennan, holding her empty shot glass to the sky. The list proceeded as they got rip roaringly drunk; moving from the small bottle of scotch to the monstrous bottle of tequila Brennan unearthed from her Kitchen.

"In New Orleans."

"On every friggin' vacation."

"When you found your mother's bones."

"When I found Dad again."

"Hell, throw in some Russ too." They laughed giddily, collapsing into each other's arms. They were so drunk at this point, Booth could hardly lift the bottle; the shots grew fewer as the list grew longer. The alcohol became an accommodation for a particularly spectacular failure for missing an opportunity.

"After you killed someone."

"You gave me Jasper."

"Don't forget Brainy smurf."

"To brainy smurf!" They downed a shot.

"After the beauty contest right before we ordered Thai food."

"I love Thai Food. Shot for Thai food!" Brennan sloppily conceded.

"This couch is a mess," she giggled, completely inebriated.

"Goddamn, to after the gravedigger." Brennan sobered up.

"Both times," she agreed, and they downed another shot before the list continued.

"During our guy hug."

"After Howard Epps."

"Screw Sully and all of that horrendous mess," groaned Booth.

"I liked Sully," she protested weakly.

"So did I!" yelled Booth, too loud but too drunk to care. "But I really liked you more."

"When you were kidnapped Booth."

"That ridiculous pony play incident."

"When you told me what making love was," she corroborated. They drank to that.

"Meeting Sweets."

"Ugh, Sweets." They drank to him with mumbled toasts.

"On Halloween. Lasso of truth."

"Making pottery."

"Playing with baby Andy."

"After your dad's trial."

"Karaoke night."

"After Zack."

"In London."

"I said all our trips Bones."

"After we buried the dog."

"Ripley."

"To Ripley." They drank again.

"Shoulda socked Jared after he kissed you. Then kissed you."

"That would have been nice," she murmured sleepily. Their responses were slowing.

"On the airplane to China."

"You already said all the trips Booth."

"Shuddup. We never left…sovgrin…sovereign...US... place."

"As carnival workers."

"YES. God yes."

"Another shared bed," she mumbled with a grin.

"When we were ice skating."

"After the metal band; telling Sweets our pasts."

"Almost," he whispered. "Almost."

"Before you were in surgery," she whimpered.

"Right after I got out."

"At the Smithsonian exhibit."

"When Pops came to visit."

"I love Pops," she smiled into his shoulder. Their shot glasses lay forgotten.

"At Christmas this year when you were taking off my clothes."

"You're sort of beautiful," she mumbled into his arm. His voice was hesitant.

"After the JFK…the not JFK…" she nodded in understanding; she couldn't tell him, even completely trashed, that she believed it had been a former president.

"Toasting with Jared," she sighed. They both lay still.

"To love," Booth grinned, and they took one last shot.

"For every time we can't even think of," huffed Brennan.

"Right now," Booth murmured and they shared a long alcohol flavored kiss. Neither woke up until the following morning, groaning but completely content.

"Sweetie," said Angela, waving a hand before Brennan's eyes. "Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?"

"Don't tell me these things," groaned Cam, inopportunely walking in on the wrong moment.

"A lot," said Brennan fervently. Cam dimpled her signature smile and walked forward to hand Brennan papers before gasping.

"Doctor Brennan," she stuttered, "your face."

"Oh," said Brennan inanely gesturing. "Yes. Well, Booth timed me."

"Clocked you," corrected Angela automatically. "With a baseball bat."

"My goodness," smiled Cam, "I'm almost jealous of your eventful weekend."

Booth walked in. "Don't be Cam…seriously. Shot poker is nothing compared to this." With raised eyebrows and a laugh, she patted his arm gingerly and left.

"Think you'll make it today Bones?" grimaced Booth. She nodded.

"Later?" she coughed. He nodded and saluted. With a wink and a grin and a serious point at the mug of alcohol, he was gone.

He turned when he heard breathless, skittering footsteps behind him. Bones almost collided in his arms as he held her tightly to keep her from falling.

"Bones. What's wrong?" She blinked up at him, equal parts mixture of apprehension, tears, frustration and joy.

"I don't ever want this to be on our list." And she kissed him in front of the whole lab.