Spoilers: Oops. I don't think this flows particularly well, but I'll live. Two days can be very different.

Disclaimer: Umm…I had a surprising amount of trouble with the ending. That's the only reason it's taken me this long to update.

Author's Note: Not sure about this one. You'll have to tell me how it is, because I honestly am unsure. Which doesn't happen all too often. Well, that's a lie. But I'd love feedback, anyway.

At the sound of the knocking, Booth groaned. He'd only been in bed an hour, unable to sleep, and he was just about ready to drug himself. Or hit himself over the head with a very heavy object.

He groaned and dragged himself out of bed reluctantly, squirming against the sudden cold. "Who the hell…wait a second!" he muttered. He was stunned out of annoyance when he opened the door. In front of him stood a very irate looking Brennan.

And a cop.

Booth shook his head in bemusement, wondering if he actually had fallen asleep. "Seeley Booth?" the uniform asked. Booth nodded. "Miss Brennan-"

"Doctor Brennan," Brennan corrected, obviously annoyed.

"-here gave me this address. She live here?" His voice was clipped, as if he really had better things to do than baby-sit PhD's. Or he had worked three too many shifts. Watching the cop boredly roll his head to his shoulder, Booth decided it was both.

He looked again at Brennan and she moved past him into his apartment, standing comfortably next to him. Did she want him to say that she did live here? Thankfully, Brennan heaved an irritated sigh.

"No. For the eighteenth time, I don't live here. This is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI," she stated firmly, as if the man were an imbecile.

The cop looked to Booth expectantly. "Uh, yeah. She's my partner. Why…why are you here, Bones?" he asked as the reality steadily sunk in.

"This man, here, decided I was a criminal," she said bitterly, throwing the man a look that could freeze Hell.

"Do you have ID?" the cop asked, looking at Booth. Booth nodded and disappeared into the bedroom, quickly returning to produce his warrant card. The cop nodded lazily and sighed. "Okay. Doctor Brennan is your responsibility, now. I'll leave her to explain."

Booth shut the door and turned to see a mutinous-looking Brennan. He grinned.

"Oh, great, now you have enough energy to be responsive!" she sighed. Booth shook his head in amazement. "What?"

"You got arrested?" he asked teasingly. "You got arrested?" he repeated a little more slowly, letting it sink in. Brennan glared.

"No. I didn't. I was…" She stopped and Booth motioned to the couch.

"You were…?"

"I was picking my lock," she admitted begrudgingly, sitting down heavily. "The stupid cop thought I was a burglar. He asked me where I 'belong', and he wouldn't believe me when I told him it was my apartment!" Brennan was almost near hysterics by now. Booth sat down next to her, forcing the smile from his face.

He couldn't. The corners of his mouth twitched. "You were trying to break in to your house?" he laughed. Brennan glared at him. His face straightened a little. "Why?"

"I forgot my bag. It had my keys and my ID." She was clearly not impressed with herself. Or the cop. Before Booth could mock her any further, she launched. "It's really your fault, you know!"

Booth's eyes widened. "My fault? How the hell is it my fault?" he demanded. Brennan crossed her arms indignantly.

"You're the one that's always telling me to lock my door!" she snapped. Booth was amazed.

"Bones. Calm down. You'll wake the neighbors. And they already hate my coming and going at all hours…" he sighed. Brennan frowned at him.

"It's your fault."

"You know what, Bones? Just be quiet."

And they were. For the better part of ten minutes they sat on Booth's couch; until Booth suddenly realized what she was wearing. She was dressed much more formally than normal.

"Say, Bones," he began mockingly, "were you on a date?" Brennan raised an eyebrow.

"Why would you think that?" She was utterly confused. Booth looked her up and down a little too appreciatively.

"You're all dressed up; it's nearly midnight; you forgot your keys…" he trailed off suggestively, hiding the serious curiosity. Who was this man? And why was he with His Bones? Why didn't he know about this?!

Brennan only rolled her eyes.

"I was at a meeting, Booth. With the heads of the Jeffersonian," she stated, bored. Booth hid his elation and relief. Still, the idea was niggling.

"Till eleven thirty at night?" he asked cynically. Brennan sighed, giving up.

"Fine, okay, I was working. When we finished the meeting, I figured I may as well. I mean, I was already there-"

"Working? Working, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth. I see you've mastered the art of verbatim," she bit sarcastically. He rolled his eyes but remained wisely silent.

"Uh, you want a drink?" he asked after a few seconds. She nodded, requesting a water but seriously wanting to leave. Annoyingly, though, she didn't have anywhere to go. She almost wished she'd given Booth a spare key. Being here was not going out work out very well, no matter what happened. Or didn't happen.

Booth returned and placed a glass on the table in front of her. She muttered a thanks.

"So why did you come here?" Booth asked suddenly. Brennan looked up from studying her water. "Why not go to Angela's?"

"Ange is probably with Hodgins. And your place is closer, anyway," she answered instantly. Honestly, she hadn't given going to Booth a second thought.

"Ah," was all he said for a while. "Um, so…you're going to be staying, I suppose…" Booth was annoyed at himself for not sounding more composed; more in-control. But having her here, knowing that she'd be here all night…that was a lot to process. Then bury before it took effect.

"If it's okay. I don't want to put you out," she said half-heartedly. Booth laughed.

"Trust me, Bones. That's not possible," he informed her. As their eyes locked, she cocked her head, as if the angle would giver her a better view into his thoughts. Booth cleared his throat. "So, um, normally, I'd suggest Parker's room, but I think his bed's a little small." Booth chuckled as Brennan smiled.

"It's okay, I can sleep on the couch," she shrugged. To her shock, Booth looked offended.

"No way, Bones! You're my guest," he teased. "Take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Booth-"

"No! That's final! Bed. Shoo. Go." He stood up and she followed suit. Booth's hands went to her shoulders and he all but pushed her into the bedroom. Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Booth, I can get into bed by myself, you know?" she snapped.

"You sure? Because I can help you if you really need-" He was cut off by something being thrown at his face. He pulled a tee shirt from his shoulder, kicking himself for momentarily hoping it was hers. He grinned and threw it back. "It's clean. And you need something to sleep in, anyway." He shrugged, as if the idea didn't have him weak-kneed and slightly dizzier than is healthy.

Brennan rolled her eyes, thankfully putting it down to more chivalrous Booth-mockery. "I'm fine, Booth." He nodded.

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, staring around the room for a few seconds. "You should get arrested more often."

The shirt hit him in the face again.

--

Bones is in my bed, Bones is in my bed…, Booth repeated in his head as he lay on the couch, his ankles crossed over one couch-arm. Shut up! He yelled at himself. He shut his eyes tightly, only succeeding in bringing forth the very mages he was trying to destroy.

He shoved his hands to his face, seeming to try and draw out the images with his fingers. It didn't help. He had a horrible, horrible feeling that nothing would.

"Oh crap," he whispered to himself.

I'm in Booth's bed, I'm in Booth's bed, Brennan chorused semi-consciously. This was not good. It wasn't so much that she had crazy, far too hormonal images going through her head. It was more that she, by being here, this apartment, this bed, had broken a rule. She was accepting help in a very dangerous form.

She shut her eyes, cursing biology for the first time in her life when her other senses suddenly heightened. Now all she could do was smell Booth. On everything around her. She deliberately turned her face from the pillow, lying on her back as she silently recited the Periodic Table. Unfortunately, this was as good as second nature, and her mind began to roam again.

"Oh crap."

A sudden bolt of pain in Booth's neck woke him up. He groaned in pain as he dragged himself up, taking note of the fact that he'd fallen asleep on his couch. It didn't take him very long to remember why.

He turned towards the bedroom, groaning again when his neck vehemently protested, sending waves of pain down his back. He put a hand to the base of his skull and massaged the spot, trying to work out the kinks. He'd fallen asleep in his office chair enough times to be pretty good at it.

Spying a clock, he moved silently to his bedroom, meaning to wake Brennan. Only she wasn't there. He looked around, confused. None of her things were there, and there wasn't any noise coming from the bathroom.

She'd left. It was only six o'clock in the morning and she'd already left. Booth laughed to himself sardonically. No woman had ever left his bed before he woke up. Never. My Bones is one-of-a-kind, he smiled to himself.

Still, he couldn't help but be a little offended. He sighed. "Everything happens eventually," he breathed to himself, shrugging. As he moved to the shower, he was stopped by the sound of the front door opening. He turned just as Brennan walked through the door. He gave her a confused look.

"Oh," she commented. "You're up." Booth rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Bones. Well done. Where have you been?" he asked, sounding horribly parental. She suddenly felt like a naughty teenager. She held up a bag.

"Food. I had to go home and get changed, so I stopped and got us some breakfast," she stated. Booth grinned at the mention of food. Then her words sunk in.

"Wait. How did you get into your house?" he asked, taking the food from her protectively and shuffling into the kitchen. She followed.

"I picked the lock," she shrugged. Booth spun.

"You what? Bones! You know, for all your Squinty-ness, you can be really stupid sometimes," he huffed. Brennan frowned.

"I wasn't 'stupid'!" she defended, pulling a coffee out of Booth's hands. "How else was I supposed to get in? No one else has a key." She raised her eyebrows, daring him to challenge her. He did.

"So give me one."

"What?"

"Give me a key," he emphasized.

"You know, Angela says that giving keys is the fourth step in a romantic relationship," she stated, shrugging; hardly even realizing what she was saying. Booth choked on whatever he was stuffing into his mouth.

"Bones!" he coughed. She looked up from the froth in her paper cup.

"What? Are you okay? You look kind of…your face is all scrunched up. I've found that that either means you're in pain or I've said something you think is inappropriate," she mused, a little annoyed. Booth scowled then deliberately un-scrunched his face. Why did she always pick the worst times to notice these things?

"Both," he mumbled through a mouthful of food. Brennan stuffed a hand into her pocket and threw him something. A key. Booth looked at her, wondering if she had any idea what she was doing to him.

"Here. I case I get locked out again, or there's a serial killer loose, or something," she stated, absent-mindedly. He head was obviously somewhere else this morning. Apparently she didn't have any idea of her effect on him. Booth cleared his throat.

"Uh, thanks," he said, trying to clear his head. "Wait. How did you get to your house?" he asked suddenly, happy to grab onto something non-relationship related. Brennan looked up and grinned unexpectedly. Her hand went to her other pocket and she threw him more keys.

Only they were his.

"You took my car?" Booth gasped. He was surprisingly offended. Brennan shrugged, still smiling.

"Well, I needed to get home," she stated. "And I wanted to know why you never let me drive." Her voice was a little more playful, now. Booth just stared, incredulous.

"You took my car."

"Yes. But I think I understand, now." He raised an eyebrow in question. "She handles well, Booth," she teased, enjoying the changing expressions on his face.

"You took my car!"

"Oh, calm down. Go complain to Sweets. I bet Dr. Wyatt would tell you it's because you're unsure of your manhood or something."

"Hey! I am not insecure about my…manhood, thank you," he snapped. She grinned.

"Then there's no need to be so touchy. It's just a car, Booth," she prodded. She knew very well that to him, it wasn't just a car. It was a representation. "It has nothing to do with penis size. Unless you talk to Ange-"

"Bones!" he exclaimed. He could hardly believe she was actually saying this. She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "There are some subjects we don't need to go into, Bones. This," he motioned frantically between them "is one of them." His tone said to leave it alone. She didn't. She set her coffee on the bench and crossed her arms.

"Booth, it's nothing to be ashamed of," she said nonchalantly, smirking. Finally, he'd had enough of her mocking. He crossed the kitchen in two steps and smashed his mouth into hers.

He moved forward, intent on keeping her close when she instinctively moved back. They repeated the dance again, only to push Brennan unexpectedly into the bench. He groaned as the bench forced her against him much harder than he'd anticipated.

The all-too-physical sensation brought him back to reality.

His hands moved to frame her face as he pulled back, allowing her only so much space. He waited until her eyes opened before speaking, his eyes challenging.

"See, Bones?" he whispered huskily. "My manhood is very much intact."

He was out of the kitchen before she could respond.

Smirking to herself, she picked up her coffee. Manhood, indeed.

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