This is my first story, having spied for a while, reading and admiring other people's work. I think I've lurked long enough...

Disclaimer: They aren't mine and you wouldn't recognise them if they were.

They're 'just partners' she once heard someone say, and she knew it annoyed her even if she didn't know why.

They aren't 'just' anything, individually or mutually. She knows he would say the same. Maybe there isn't a category for them – she still isn't sure they're friends. But then, she reasons, maybe her definition of 'friend' needs reconsidering…

For now, as she watches him glance impatiently at his watch, she simply smiles. She knows she's 4 minutes late and she knows he's jittery. Too much caffeine, she thinks to herself, wondering if she can substitute decaf for his sixth cup of coffee that morning. Sometimes she worries about his stress levels, his tension, his knack of getting involved before he really thinks about things.

As soon as his eyes swivel in her direction, she knows he won't miss her. He never misses anything. In his own way, he is as observant, as diligent with detail, as she is. And maybe she is the loser, with her occasional inability to see the bigger picture.

"Where've you been?!" he calls impatiently, causing the woman between them to look up startled.

She deliberately doesn't answer until she's next to him. "Traffic," she says quietly, with a shrug, hoping the level of her voice impacts on him.

"There's always traffic, Bones! You could have factored that in when you knew you were coming!" He is pacing away from her now, the nervous energy radiating from him.

She strides quickly to catch up with him. "And how was I supposed to? You called, I left, I'm here – that's the way it works, you know." She knows what this is about. He's always like this when they have a new case. He doesn't like not knowing what he's going to be dealing with.

"Yes, I know, it's just…" His ire fades quickly, like she knows it always does.

"Just what?"

"Just… I, well…" He stops speaking and continues walking.

"You thought I wasn't coming? You know better than that."

He nods. She doesn't need to ask that question, she knows – he would never think she wasn't coming. He doesn't elaborate and she wants to push him. She knows that anything she says now will turn his punctuality foibles into a row, and she isn't sure she wants that. They've been rowing a lot recently.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head, reaching out briefly to touch her arm.

She lets it drop, surprised at herself. She's changed since she met him.

He lifts the tape for her as he waves at another agent. She recognises Agent Radley only vaguely, as a face introduced on the way down a corridor once.

"Dr Brennan," he nods, with a ready smile, as he passes his notes to her partner. "All yours now."

"Thanks, John." Booth flicks through the pages, as her eyes moved to the activity in the corner, taking no notice of the departing agent.

"He remembered my name," she points out.

Booth looks up, puzzled, and she repeats her words.

"And?" His mind is already elsewhere, she can tell.

"I thought I was just the squint to your lot," she says, with a wry smile.

He grins, that sudden flash of animation that never fails to make her respond in kind. "I don't think you're 'just' anything, Bones. To them, I mean."

She turns away to hide the blush. "Neither are you," she murmurs.

But this time, when her words don't register with him, she doesn't repeat herself.

I'm bad at reviewing *slaps wrist* - I don't ask for reviews, although all are valued.