Spoilers:Um, not really. Sorry about the shortness of this one. It was a little rushed. And it doesn't really have a point… But yeah.

Disclaimer: Ha! I had no clue where this was going when it began. None at all. Oh, and the bit I've got as Brennan's book: not entirely uninspired by Kathy Reichs' books.

Author's Note: This is the first challenge I've ever participated in, and it's for the FFCG. Reviews would be awesome, as I've never done it before.

The Challenge:
1. Topic: Must be some sort of x-over. (Interpret as you will.)
2. Must be: 3,500 words or fewer.
3. Must include: music by Phoebe Buffay.
4. Must be rated MA or lower.

5. Must include the line "there's a bumble bee in my jacket [coat, shirt, shorts, shoe, sock, etc]."

I really don't like crossovers, so I'm going to have to twist this one just a little.

Booth rolled his head from one shoulder to the other as he lowered his beer to his lap with a sigh. Picking up the remote which had lay vacantly on his couch for the past few seconds, he flipped it into the air before turning the channel, trying to allay his boredom.

It almost worked for the half second the little piece of plastic was in the air.

He hardly registered his actions as he flipped through the channels, bringing the bottle to his lips again. His mind instantly picked up on the genre as soon as the flickering light settled. People weren't the only things he could read quickly.

Drama, bad drama, medical drama, soap, musical, subtitled drama, kids show, documentary, sitcom.

He stopped automatically and tossed the remote onto the couch absentmindedly. This was about right. It required no mental capacity whatsoever; nothing deep or meaningful about it. No death; no facts; no twisting plot lines to mull over; no subtitles. Hell, it even told him when to laugh.

He was at the point where boredom was derived mostly from exhaustion. His mind was on its own path of nothingness, which left his physical self to be simply heavy with uselessness.

Blowing out a deep breath, he drained the little bit of liquid left in the bottle, pulling it back to stare at it. To anyone else, it would look as if he were admiring it, savoring it, reading the label. To him, it just looked more interesting than the television.

He heard the screen tell him to laugh, and he looked up half-heartedly. Some blonde was singing about people with mystifying sexual identities. Finally having something to concentrate on, he snorted at the peculiarity of the song. He didn't particularly like sitcoms, but it was after three in the morning, and his lack of thought wasn't letting him sleep.

He thought it seriously ironic that the one time he was free of thought was the one time when he couldn't sleep. Normally his thoughts were churning over and over. Events of the day, conversations, case files, victims' faces, a joke Cam and he had shared, the insipid but bitter taste of FBI coffee.

And almost always, at least for a second, the one, perfectly distracting thing his brilliant partner would unintentionally do every day without fail.

Because there was always something. A flick of the hair as she turned to stare incredulously at him, or her amusedly raised eyebrow as she cocked her head to the side.

But he never pined; he just thought. For the most part, any time he had the luxury to think he was so tired that he was already asleep. Not that that stopped the thinking. Not that he minded when it didn't.

He was just a man.

Brennan's fingers hit furiously on the black keyboard of her laptop. The thoughts were finally flowing so well. She'd been waiting all day to be home to complete this, which was undeniably rare for her. All day she'd been working on Limbo cases with Cam looking over her shoulder.

From what she'd gathered, or been interested enough to gather, the board wanted an average quota for the Jeffersonian's Limbo clearance since they'd been working with the FBI. They wanted to make sure that their 'real' work was getting done.

So Brennan had been forced to clear as many Limbo cases as possible, stopping too many times to inform Cam of the counter-productivity of watching her work. Cam had simply ignored her and stared pointedly at the remains on the cold slab.

Suddenly, another thought hit her and she reached for the manila file-folder on the table next to her laptop, jotting down some case notes in the appropriate place before turning back to the flashing cursor of her computer screen.

Her mind was seriously over-active tonight. Brennan was never one to have a clear head, but usually there was a perfectly linear logic to the order of her thoughts. This time, they were in ten different places. They were linear in their own respect, individually, but as a whole, they were totally unconnected.

She couldn't focus, and it was somewhat disorienting. Though she couldn't deny that it was productive.

If she had have put more credence in psychology, it may have occurred to her to ask herself why she was suddenly capable of this non-linear thought. Especially at three o'clock in the morning.

It had occurred to her before that perhaps it was one of Booth's many influences. There was a certain ability to multitask that he brought to the table, and it seemed to her that she had picked up on more of it than she'd thought.

She started typing again, smiling to herself as she moved her mind from her partner to her computer. The scene unfolding in the stark type was purely a guilty-pleasure one. It was only remotely within the essential plot-line, but it was the kind of thing that seemed to sell books. Besides, any excuse to lower Andy's 'fictionally' oversized ego was worth it.

The smile stayed as she reread what she'd just written.

Andy lay uncomfortably asleep on his office floor, a pile of manila folders doubling as a pillow. Kathy's eyebrow arched cynically as she stepped into his office and over him, dropping another pile of folders on his messy desk.

Andy suddenly twitched violently and his arm connected solidly with the floor. "There's a bumble bee in my pants!" he screamed, suddenly jerking himself awake. On seeing Kathy, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Deathly allergic," he lied pathetically.

Kathy just shook her head as she laughed, and admired his suit-clad lower half as he stood. She shook the thought from her head just as he grinned at her, making her head go to all the wrong places.

She was just a woman.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Booth stood at-ease in the doorway, grinning. Brennan looked at him inquisitively, but moved aside to let him in. He flashed his eyebrows at her almost excitedly as he brushed past her, holding out a white paper bag.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight. Food.

"I figured you wouldn't have eaten before work, so I thought, you know, I'd help out," he shrugged, still smiling. Brennan smiled gratefully and pulled a bagel out of the bag, handing the remaining one over to Booth. He grinned and stuffed about half of it into his mouth.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "You know, choking is a very common cause of death," she pointed out casually as she chewed slowly.

"Akf fid wih m, Bun," he declared through his food. He swallowed, wincing as he did so. He made a gurgling sound. "Maybe you're right… I should probably take smaller bites." He looked suspiciously at the remainder of the offending bagel before shoving it all into his mouth.

"Fine, but if you choke, I won't help you."

"Oof don mee auh ep," he protested adamantly as she continued to chew slowly, with a shake of the head. He simply swallowed and grinned at her. He was strangely cheery this morning.

"Did you have a good night, or something?" she asked obliviously. Booth looked at her oddly.

"Huh?" was all he managed. If she was asking what he thought she was…

"You're very happy this morning," she clarified. He just grinned again. "It's kind of creepy," she added as he did so.

"Can't I just be happy to spend the morning with my favorite forensic anthropologist and best selling author?" he asked, feigning offence.

"I suppose you could be if you knew more than one of those. Otherwise it's just meaningless flattery," she shrugged.

"You're flattered?" he exclaimed. "Oh, I am a woman-pleaser…" He trailed off, having fun teasing her. She looked witheringly at him.

"So why are you really happy?" she inquired. He sighed. This was not the line of conversation he was expecting.

"I just told you," he shrugged, pretending like it was nothing. "I just like spending time with you, Bones." It was definitely not nothing. She regarded his grin with an earnest look.

"Why?" she asked seriously.

"What can I say, Bones?" he sighed, still grinning. He handed her her coat and ushered her out the door with a hand on her back. He moved a little closer and wrapped an arm casually around her shoulders as they walked down the hall. "I'm only human."