I'm a big fan of realistic situations for our heroes, and I don't really think they'd be quite so suggestible, but hey, it's my first fic I've posted, and it's a quick oneshot (maybe two, if you like it and send me lots of reviews). And besides, who can resist dirty talk in public places?

I don't own Bones. It'd be nice, but it just ain't gonna happen.

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After a long week of work, Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan sat at their regular table in the diner, he leaning back from his burger, she huddled over her salad.

"It seems we've had quite a number of sex fetish and online dating cases lately," Brennan noted, stabbing at a tomato.

"You know, you're right. What, is there a season for this kind of thing?"

"Well, Booth, you were the one who said people keep on trying for that connection."

"Yeah," he rested his chin on his arm and scrunched his face up, admitting, "I suppose that is a year-round kinda deal."

Brennan spoke through her salad, still chewing, "There are a limited number of places people can meet. So you wind up with a limited segment of the population. There are websites, bars and clubs, and as ill-advised as it is, there is the work pool."

Booth chuckled, "The funny thing is, the place you're most likely to meet someone you can really relate to is actually at work," and, raising his eyebrows, he added, "as ill-advised as it is."

"It's very true. I mean, in our situations for example, how many people are you going to meet who can understand or even deal with how we work with human remains? It's such a taboo in our society, death is so desperately hidden away. Angela once had a date who literally ran when he discovered what she did for a living. Perhaps people in our line of work are just meant to be alone."

The two sat eating in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"You know, Bones, if we weren't partners, and we didn't have that line we can't cross... I think I'd want more than a coffee relationship with you."

"Yeah?" Brennan picked up her coffee and brought it to her mouth.

"I'd want to kiss you." He picked up his burger. "Passionately."

Booth took a bite and it took Brennan three tries before she could swallow the coffee she'd just sipped.

"And often." He said it casually, almost offhand.

Scenarios flickered before her eyes. Booth in her life, by her side, but not in her work. She acknowledged that her job would be less enjoyable, but all the same it seemed that her temperature jumped up a few degrees as the possibilities floated through her mind. "I don't think coffee would be enough either," she admitted as her eyes drifted to his mouth and she imagined him chewing on the end of his pen. Just then his tongue darted out of his mouth to catch a drop of ketchup and her center twitched. "You appear to have a rather expressive tongue."

The corner of his mouth curled up into a sly grin and she caught an eyebrow flash. "You have no idea," he said in a low murmur.

Her hands trembled slightly and she put down her mug. She began to speak slowly, haltingly.

"And you really are... very well structured," Brennan noted as she let her eyes slide to his shoulders and chest, which had begun rising and falling at a faster-than-normal pace. "I'd be very interested in exploring your body... if we didn't have the line, of course."

"If we didn't have the line," Booth breathed, "I'd want to touch your skin. I don't think I could keep myself from worshipping it with my mouth."

Brennan's lips parted and her lungs expanded to ten times their regular size.

"And I'd want to taste your neck, and your," he took a breath and his tongue slipped out and back into his mouth again before continuing heavily, "breasts, and all the way down," his eyes flickered down her body to where her body disappeared below the table.

"So would I," Brennan said as her eyes caressed the length of his torso, "if we didn't have the line."

She paused and bit her lip. "I'd want to feel you inside of me."

Booth's breathing stopped entirely and the base of his stomach vanished.

"You would be deep, stretching me, pushing me. I'd want to feel your weight on me, in me."

Booth leaned in toward her, arms crossed on the table as he had a thousand times before, "You'd be so wet."

She mirrored his posture. "I am," she mouthed and Booth groaned under his breath.

"I would drive you to the edge, and you'd do the same to me. We'd fall together. I'd pulse inside of you and draw my name from your lips."

"Again and again," her agreement floated like a ghost across the brief distance between their open faces.

"And we'd get close."

"To breaking the laws of physics," she answered, "yes."

"If we didn't have the line."

"If we didn't have the line."

They stared into each others' eyes for one long minute, or an hour, neither was quite certain of foolish things like time. Suddenly Brennan plunged a hand in her purse, pulled out a twenty, and slapped it on the table. Booth leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand, leading her quickly out the door.

Line be damned.