Oh man! I seriously apologize for not updating sooner. Work has been absolutely crazy, and my boss even gave me homework - I had no time whatsoever to write! It drove me nuts. I usually try to update more often, and will try to update sooner, next time. Thanks for being so patient, and not burning me in effigy...

THE BET

Forced to park in the structure yet again by the grouchy parking guard, Booth strode testily to the elevator bank. The freakin' FBI ran the security in this place – you'd think the FBI Liaison to the Jeffersonian could park outside the main entrance for five minutes, but no…He rapped his knuckles impatiently on the elevator doors, but they remained stubbornly shut. Rather than wait – the squints had been known to hold the elevator doors open for an hour while they had a physics discussion – he made for the stairs. As he jogged up the first flight, he let his mind wander, thinking back on the last month.

One month. One month of their three-month term was over. Although he'd had some success, he wished he was further along in his goal of getting Bones to crave romance – his romance, specifically. She was quite stubborn, and very determined. He'd managed to sweet-talk her into several dates, and was encouraged by her response to him. With a great deal of fondness he remembered one particularly sweet evening spent walking among the cherry blossoms under an almost-full moon. She'd seemed so soft and affectionate that night – almost a different person. He realized that the woman he'd seen that night had only been a portion of the real Temperance Brennan. He'd met several fragments in the years that he'd known her, and enjoyed them all. But he had a feeling there was more to be discovered. And he planned to do the discovering - if he could get past the Beltway-sized barrier she was throwing up at every bend.

They were hot when they were with each other – so hot his blood was heating right now, at the mere memory of them together. One whiff of her perfume and he instantly remembered her other, more primal, seductive, scent. If he happened to hear her talking, like a flash he would recall how her voice shook when she begged him. One glance at her, at work or anywhere else, for that matter, and he was compelled to seek out the sight of her soft pale skin sprawled out beneath him, tightly wrapped around him, hovering over him on the bed. He had to work overtime to be around her and keep control of himself. The sex was good – hell, why be modest? The sex was mind-blowing. But he wanted more than that. The attraction went way beyond the physical. And that was where the barrier came into play.

She had yet to spend the entire night with him. She always opted to go to his apartment on the evenings when they were together. Unfortunately, he'd been a jerk enough times in his life to recognize the logic behind that choice. She was too polite to ask him to leave her apartment – this way, she could leave whenever she felt the need. Which, apparently, was after every time they were together. That was going to end. It was time to step up his game, because he wasn't about to lose this bet. Yes, it was time Temperance Brennan spent the entire night in his arms. Now, he just had to find the perfect time to execute his plan. Rounding the last set of stairs, he broke into a confident whistle and pushed open the stairwell door.

*****

"Hey, Bren?" Angela stuck her head in the door to Brennan's office, her dark hair swinging gracefully. "Hodgins, Zack and I are toying with the idea of going down to the diner for some lunch – we are seriously starving. Wanna come with?"

"No, thank you, Ange. I have to finish up the paperwork from my last identification." Brennan flicked a short glance upward before refocusing on the triplicate forms spread out before her in a large puddle on her desk. "I would prefer to avoid any type of backlog, since we seem to be getting busy. And Booth will be here soon – we have to go out to Fairfax for the Strickland case."

Abandoning her spot in the doorway, Angela strolled in, scanning the myriad of papers spread out on every surface. "Is this for the 'Not a Real Mummy' body?"

"Yes." Biting back a sigh, she barely resisted the urge to massage her temples. But only barely. "It's amazing to me that the local medical examiner wasn't able to see that this body was clearly newly deceased. And fully embalmed."

"Yeah, well, I don't think he was too keen on taking off the skeevy bandages to look closer. Besides, he's from the Tidewater district, and you know how they are down there." Wandering over to the coffee table, she leaned over a large vase of flowers, inhaling deeply. "These are just so great."

"So you said before," Brennan replied crisply without glancing over at Angela.

Surprised, Angela glanced over her shoulder at her. "What's wrong?" Wandering back over to the desk, she plopped down in a chair and fixed a long, penetrating, and very astute stare in Brennan's direction. "Did you and Booth have a fight?"

"What?" Having finally been distracted from the work at hand, Brennan looked up, confusion on her face. "No. Why would you ask that?"

"Well, you don't seem very happy that he sent you that beautiful bouquet, and I can't think why, unless he sent them because you fought." Her brow winged upward. "Not a bickering fight, mind you, but a real fight."

Now she did sigh. This was a familiar topic of discussion for Angela. Although the questions were different each and every time, the end goal was always the same. "No, Ange, Booth and I didn't have a fight." Deliberately, she re-focused on her report, hoping that Angela would get the hint.

Angela, however, was having none of it. Knowing perfectly well that Brennan was hiding behind her work, and that she had a habit of answering one question to avoid answering another one, she merely settled into the chair. "Come on, now – you know that doesn't work with me. Tell Auntie Angela what's wrong. You know I won't leave until you do," she added, forestalling whatever pithy argument her friend was about to offer.

Brennan hissed in annoyance. "Now you sound like Booth."

"Thank you, Sweetie." Angela's smile was large and quite satisfied.

"That wasn't a compliment. The two of you can be very pushy – it's quite annoying." Aiming a fulminating glare at Angela, she finally tossed down her pen and leaned back in her chair, huffing noisily. "I don't know what to do about the flowers."

Now Angela frowned. "I don't get it. What do you mean, you don't know what to do about them?"

"Just that. I don't know what Booth wants. He must want something, or he wouldn't have sent them. If we'd had a fight, I could comprehend his logic – the flowers would represent a peace offering. But we haven't had a fight, and now I'm confused." She rubbed her eyes in frustration. "Men always send flowers with a specific objective in mind. I need to understand things, and I don't understand this."

"Let me say one thing, Bren. Well, two things. Okay, maybe three. Haven't you ever done something for someone for no reason? Done it 'just because'?" She caught sight of Brennan's expression. "Never mind, I can see that you haven't. At least, you think you haven't. Well, a lot of people do that type of thing, and Booth definitely strikes me as that kind of guy. Didn't he give you those cute figurine thingies?"

"Yes, he did. But we were only partners then, and he had specific reasons for giving them to me. We're sleeping together now, which makes the entire situation different. He must have had a reason for this."

"Okay, you know what? You need to stop this. You're over-thinking the situation, when what you should be doing, and what I caught you doing a few times today, is burying your face in those blooms and smiling." Always quick on the uptake, she spotted the flash of guilt on Brennan's face. "Don't even bother trying to deny it, because I saw you myself, when you thought no one was looking."

She felt like a complete fool. She'd thought she'd been alone when she'd indulged herself with several long lungfuls of the fragrant blossoms. "What – I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know what you think you saw, but I'm sure you're mistaken."

Angela rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Bren – it's me. Talk to me, please. I thought we were best friends…"

As she stared into Angela's anxious face, she remembered all the times Angela had been there for her. She knew better. She could talk to Angela. She was her best friend – actually, the only best friend she'd ever had. Until she met Booth. The trickle of guilt grew into a stream. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so difficult. It's just…I do like the flowers. They're quite beautiful. And my problem is that…I don't know what to do about them."

"God, sweetie, if this is how much you worry about a bunch of flowers, I'd hate to see what happens if things get really serious between the two of you. Look – think about it this way. It's like you were just admitted entry into a very exclusive and desirable club - one to which you didn't even know you wanted to belong. Why question it? Just enjoy the – ahem - membership perks." Her sharp ears picked up a faint whistling, and she knew she only had a moment, at best. Booth always moved quickly when he was headed toward Brennan. "And my last piece of advice? If the flowers come up in conversation, just thank him. That's it. Leave it right there."

"Leave what right where?" Booth swept into the room, his eyes quickly scanning the entire area, noticing both Bones' discomfort and the presence of the flowers. His already-present grin widened just a bit more.

She smoothly shifted the conversation. "The report Brennan's completing. She should just leave it there. It can wait until the two of you get back from Fairfax. So," she began, her canny gaze switching from Brennan to Booth and back again, "I think you'll both admit that I have shown great restraint with regard to the two of you and your mattress acrobatics over the past month."

"Angela!" Shocked at her friend's choice of words, Brennan glanced quickly at Booth, but noted with a sense of relief that he was regarding Angela with more humor than horror. "I think it's time for you to go. Weren't you starving?"

"Oh, ravenous – but this is important, so I shall gladly suffer for another few minutes. I think it's high time that you two went out on a date."

"Angela – Bones and I have been on several dates. What are you talking about?" He swung to Brennan. "Have you really not talked to her at all about us?"

"Of course not – why would you ask me that?" Brennan peered at him in annoyance, automatically closing the report in its folder. "It's private – I don't talk about things that are private."

He snorted. "That's never stopped you before. Don't worry Angela, we do, in fact, have date nights." When she merely laughed and shook her head, he frowned. "What?"

"Once you two get started, does anything stop you? I meant a double date. You know, two couples, dinner at a fancy restaurant, a classy band, dancing – preferably under the stars, but I'm flexible on the star part – it would be fun!"

Angela's machinations finally galvanized Brennan to action, and she shot up, hastily straightening her desk and scanning the room for her kit and jacket. "No, Angela – no double date. It's not happening."

"Why not?"

She had expected the question, had anticipated answering it, but was completely derailed when she realized that it wasn't Angela who'd asked the question, but Booth. She hadn't expected that from him. "What? You actually want to go on a double date? You told me once that double dates were lame, that they were for people who were hard up for a real date."

"Man, you really do have an excellent memory, don't you? I hope you never testify against me in court." He shrugged carelessly. "I changed my mind. Angela and Hodgins aren't hard up, and you and I certainly aren't hard up, so maybe it'll be fun." Maybe not fun, exactly, but he'd make sure it was romantic. Whatever ideas Angela had, at the moment they merged completely with his, so he'd use her for now. He'd fired a few romantic salvos up to this point – now it was time for a full-on romantic broadside, courtesy of Seeley Booth. And he knew exactly which buttons to press to ensure that it happened. "You don't look convinced. Don't you want to go out with Angela?"

"Well, of course, but based on what you've said to me in the past, I didn't think you'd enjoy it." How had this conversation gotten away from her? Now she felt guilty for not wanting to spend time with her friend. She knew exactly how that felt, to be left out, and hastened to reassure Angela. "It should be fun. We can talk about what night when we get back, but we really have to go now."

More than pleased with the results of her sneakiness – and Booth's sneakiness as well, as she had to give credit where it was due – she took a moment to be generous. "Since you'll be busy most of the afternoon, can I help you with anything here?"

Intent only on escape, Brennan was forced to pause for a moment to think. "No, thanks. Wait - actually, yes, you could." She waved a large stack of papers in the air. "I need copies of all these documents for my file – maybe you could find an intern to do that for me."

Angela nipped them neatly from her hand. "Just let me do it – we're not leaving for another fifteen minutes. Besides, all the interns are at lunch, and unlike you," she said with a wry smile, "I actually recognize and can operate a copier."

Brennan looked back at her from the doorway, frowning distractedly. "Why should I learn how to use it? That's what interns are for."

"Yeah, you might want to keep that to yourself in front of the actual interns…oh, you know what, never mind. I'll leave the copies on your desk when I'm done with them." With a flick of her bangle bracelets, she turned and sailed briskly down the hall.

Looking after her for a moment, Brennan shrugged and finally yielded to Booth's impatient hand on her back. They were almost to the truck when she stopped and turned abruptly to him. "Why did you send me flowers?"

Slightly startled by her sudden change of mood, but not surprised by the question, he answered with the simple truth. "Because you like them."

She opened her mouth to retort that she didn't need them; that she didn't need silly romantic gestures. Before she could get the words out, however, Angela's advice played in her head. Looking intently at him, she made a quick decision, one that felt right. "Thank you.'

A simple, beautiful smile lit his face. "You're welcome."