Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of Bones. On the plus side, I work cheap so if Hart and Company are reading this - call me.

Synopsis: After a long and trying week our favorite forensic anthropologist has literally worked herself to exhaustion. When sleep overwhelms her how will her very own knight in FBI standard issue body armor save her, and what, prey tell, will be the fallout?

A/N: This multi-chapter fic (See? I heard you all) came out of a confluence of events, but mostly it's due to my continuing insomnia and the 80 hour work weeks I've been putting up with this month. As always, adult situations and language apply.

Chapter One - Enter Sandman

For the third time in the last hour she found herself re-reading the same passage on her screen. Exhausted, Brennan screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to restore her focus. She knew it was a losing battle but she was not one to give up easily. The last few days had been a veritable whirlwind of activity that conspired to keep her from her bed. It started out when Russ and Amy had come into town at the beginning of the week, so Hayley could undergo testing to verify that the new treatment was working on her CF. They hadn't the money to get a hotel room and Max lacked the space so she put them up at her apartment. She'd seen her brother and future sister-in-law so much that week that she felt as if she'd made up for all the time lost after he'd abandoned her. Of course, Max increased his presence as well, visiting Russ and the girls every day, and constantly trying to get her to attend some sort of family dinner or function.

Then there was Angela, her best friend, who's life seemed to revolve around drama. Roxie had left her less than two months ago, and when Brennan couldn't be there for her friend, Angela wound up getting drunk and sleeping with Hodgins, again...and again. They'd finally spent all of last night talking, and Brennan knew that even though she wasn't sure what to say or do to help, it was important just being there for her friend. Angela assured her that it had helped, but now Brennan was paying the price, having garnered less than two hours sleep before she had to leave with Booth for a breakfast meeting with Caroline. The last few days were finally catching up with her. She felt beaten, physically, mentally, with simply nothing left to give. Four hours sleep in the last forty-eight, less than eight hours in the last three days; not a full night's sleep since Sunday. All she wanted to do was find her way home and spend the next few days cocooned inside her bedroom, but there was still so much work to do.

Sighing in resignation, Brennan pushed back from her desk and tried to straighten up. A groan escaped her lips as the twinge in her lower back and the tightness in her shoulders gave testament to the amount of time she'd spent in front of her computer that day already. Her hand fell to her sides, seeking the small of her back where her fingers touched. Putting pressure on the sensitive spot there she arched her back and groaned, listening to the snap and pop from the synovial membranes as she flexed the trapezii muscles until they burned with fatigue. Slumping forward, Brennan was suddenly aware of another set of hands on her body. They were big and rough and calloused, and they felt fantastic kneading her tender skin. Brennan gasped audibly as the hands dug into her muscles, she could feel the prominent ridges of both index fingers through the thin silky material of her halter top as they mercilessly pushed and pulled at her latissimi dorsi. But as powerful as the touch of those hands was, it was the heat from them that most affected her. Furnace-like would have been one way to describe it, the heat from those hands penetrated the fatigued muscle through her clothing, softening it, drawing the toxins out so the fingers could massage it away. Booth's hands worked rhythmically around the small of her back, eliciting no reaction from Brennan except for the occasional stifled grunt as she bit down on her lower lip to contain the sighs of pleasure that would otherwise escape.

That was the case until one particularly nasty knot of muscle was encountered at the junction of the L5 and the sacrum. The silky material of her halter top ended just above the join, and the heat from those talented hands had a more pronounced effect once they went skin to skin, pooling as it did in so sensitive a place as the thick calloused fingers dug into muscle working the knot free. When it finally gave way she was awash in the sensations of pressure, then pain, then sweet release as waves of pleasure radiated outward from the skin his fingers touched. It was a testament to just how tired she really was that it had taken until now for Brennan to say anything, still the intensity of his touch was more than Brennan could handle in her exhausted state and what she'd intended to be a simple interrogative instead became a low, appreciative moan escaping her lips. "Boooooth"

A low chuckle sounded from behind her. "Did you like that, Bones? Did I hit the right spot?"

His breath was hot on the skin of her neck, tickling her ear as the low, throaty voice mocked her. Brennan wasn't a religious woman in any sense of the word but she found herself in fervent prayer hoping for two complimentary outcomes. First, that this was not a dream, and second, that he'd shut the door.

"Booth? What are you doing?" Her cheeks pinked when a groan escaped her lips as he continued to knead her aching back.

"Helping my partner out, Bones." His breathy whisper sent a shiver down her spine that only grew in intensity as his hands found another troublesome knot of muscle near her L1-L2 vertebrae. Working their magic, Booth's hands set fire to her skin even as they undid the damage of the last several days, and the results were more than merely pleasurable.

"Ngh…ohhh, right there…don't stop…" Her cheeks pinked again upon hearing the words come out, the filter between her mind and mouth seemed to be malfunctioning. Logically Brennan concluded that there was something to Booth's touch that caused her amygdala to light up like a pinball machine.

"No problemo, Bones." Booth snorted softly to himself as she purred beneath his hands. Leaning forward he dropped a small, sweet kiss on her temple. "I promise I won't stop until you tell me to."

"Mmm. Thanks."

Brennan smiled lazily as his hands continued to work the knots at the top of her lumbar region. Grabbing the edge of her desk, she leaned forward to encourage Booth's continued ministrations of her back by granting him fuller access, oblivious to the fact that her top rode up, revealing more of her naked back than Booth had ever seen. Encouragement would not be an issue. Booth increased the intensity of the massage, moving up the lumbar to the thoracic, where he found even more knotted muscle requiring his healing touch. Palms gliding over her naked back, sliding up under the edge of her top to warm her skin before his fingers began the job of working muscle and sinew into something more pliable than the rock hard corded mass he felt beneath him, Booth marveled at how beautiful she looked. The small expanse of bare skin was flawless, felt like silk, and as it warmed to his touch he swore he smelled hints of heather, jasmine, and honey. Finding a particularly troublesome spot below her right shoulder, Booth added extra pressure to work the tension out of the knotted muscle. His efforts were rewarded with a small yelp of pain followed by a gutteral groan so erotic that he had to stop to regain control over his growing arousal.

"Jesus, Bones, you're like a rock back here. Why did you let it get so bad?" With control returning south of the border, he resumed working the trouble spot, and Booth was rewarded with another sexy groan. "Seriously, you're exhausted. You can't push yourself like this, no one can. Why didn't you just take the morning off?"

"Nnng…I couldn't Booth, you know how much work I have to dooo…" the last word degenerated into another low moan as Booth's fingers finally worked out the wearisome knot of muscle.

"Nonsense, Bones," Booth chided her as his hands slid to the other side of her back, though still under her top. "You need your rest. Push too hard and you get burned out, then you're no good to yourself or anyone else. You know I'm right."

Brennan didn't acknowledge his words as she was too busy trying to focus on staying in the chair. His hands had worked their way up from her sacrum to the muscles just below her scapulae, and the effects of his efforts magically transformed her mid and lower back from Portland cement to something more the consistency of warm gooey toffee. While the pain was gone from that region, and she was infinitely more relaxed, two problems immediately presented themselves: first, the ache in her shoulders and neck was now much more pronounced; and second, she was having difficulty sitting upright. Brennan felt Booth's hands withdraw from beneath her halter top, his fingers tracing a path on her skin as they went, and the shudder that passed through her then caused her to lose her purchase. Slipping away, something solid coiled around her from behind, Booth's scent and heat quickly overwhelmed her senses.

"Whoa, Bones! Almost lost you there. Does this mean you want me to stop?" Booth's jovial tone belied his concern.

"No," Brennan heard the concern in her partner's voice, and lightly shook her head. "You're not done yet. Shoulders, please."

"Sure thing, Bones. After all you did this week, anything my partner wants is the rule."

"Good rule…" Brennan's voice trailed off as she spoke, fatigue and Booth's massage were taking their toll.

Booth asked her a question, then another, then a third before she finally opted to simply nod in ascent from then on since every time she opened her mouth to speak it came out as an embarrassingly sexy moan. As he continued to work the knotted flesh, Brennan felt herself becoming lost in the moment, giving over to her partner's hands and acceding to his ministrations, no longer even attempting to contain how his hands made her feel, too exhausted to even try.

He smiled as he saw the change in her demeanor, his partner had gone from being overwhelmed by exhaustion to completely relaxed under his hands. The fact that she trusted him to take care of her made him smile all the more. Booth gently seized her shoulders, sliding his hands down them to guide her arms up and over, until they were crossed in front of her on her desk, where she could comfortably lay her head. Assured that she would remain in that position and not fall out of her chair, Booth returned his attention to her shoulders and neck. Brennan rested peacefully, just this side of sleep. He massaged her neck and shoulders thoroughly, working the deltoids and the trapezii patiently, manipulating the corded muscle that held weeks worth of tension and anxiety. His hands moved on to the splenii and the semispinalii until they once again felt warm and yielding to his touch. Throughout it all she had moaned, groaned, and on the odd occasion mewled her appreciation as he worked. It wasn't, however, until he decided to finish the job with a scalp massage that she finally, blissfully slipped away.

"Bones?" Booth had brushed back the hair from the side of her face and was whispering in her ear. "Temperance? I'm done now. Let's lay you down so you can get some sleep, okay?"

"m'kay Seeley," came Brennan's simple reply.

The childlike response, so soft and sweet, brought a surge of affection that put Booth's alpha-male personality into overdrive.

"Can you stand for me, Bones?" His voice urged her to get up, his hands slipped free from her hair and fell to her shoulders, his forearms loosely framing her drooping head. "Can you try?"

"mm-mmm. here's good. wanna stay with m'Seeley." Brennan's head lolled, a low groan escaping her throat. She wasn't quite asleep, but she'd finally succumbed to a combination of physical exhaustion and his talented hands, and the effect left her feeling as if she was floating on a cloud, a large Booth-scented cloud. She made no effort to move, fearing that any change could result in her losing the comforting sensation.

His breath hitched when she used his Christian name again, the sound of it from her lips it was almost lyrical, and definitely a sound he hoped to hear from her again. Sighing, Booth allowed himself the small pleasure of brushing the hair back from her face and placing a lingering kiss on her cheek. Straightening up, he decided to finally address the issue of an immobile Brennan, and moved to scoop her up in his arms. He was sure in the morning she'd karate chop him into oblivion, or possibly bury one of her high-heeled boots in his ass for going all alpha-male on her, but it was a fate he'd gladly accept if it brought her a moment's peace. She whimpered as he shifted her into his arms.

"Sshh, it's okay, baby. You don't have to move, I'll carry you," he whispered to her.

Leaning Brennan back in the chair, Booth easily pulled her to him, sliding one arm under her knees until she was cradled against his chest, the top of Brennan's head coming to rest against his shoulder. In one fluid motion she was quietly spirited away from her desk, her breathing deep and even as she rested in his arms, the warm, honey-sweet scent of her intoxicating him as he moved slowly, in fact much slower than necessary. Sure that this was all some wonderful dream, Booth nearly gasped as she pressed her face into his chest, a kittenish purr drifting upwards. He held perfectly still for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of her body against his own, but Brennan had her own idea, as she chose that particular moment to shift again, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, her lips placing feather light kisses there as she fisted handfuls of his shirt. Booth stifled a groan of protest, as her slumbering playfulness began to take its toll on his self control. He knew the things she was doing were simply a result of her exhausted state, her body's unconscious response to his physical proximity. Still there was a part of him that wished she was awake in his arms so he could reciprocate. Screwing his eyes shut in frustration as yet another series of butterfly kisses touched the skin along his neck and down to his clavicle, Booth gamely carried her the last few feet to her couch, despite the stilted gait he'd incurred from the uncomfortable tightening of his trousers.

Brennan felt the cool leather of the couch through her blouse and against the bare skin of her back and it stood in cold contrast to the near furnace-like heat that Booth radiated. He laid her down gently, gingerly detaching her from his neck even as she seemed to reach out for him. Brennan mumbled in protest, causing Booth to kneel beside her, reassuring her that it was alright. He did his best to get her situated, placing a pillow beneath her head, removing her shoes, and then, after some consideration, loosening her belt and unbuttoning the top button of her pants. That finally drew a response.

"mmm, Seeley"

"Shhh, Bones, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm just getting you comfortable is all. You need to rest now, okay?"

Booth pulled her throw down over her and tucked it in around her until only her head was showing. He deftly lifted Brennan's hair out from beneath the throw and smoothed it out carefully. He looked down at the angelic expression on her face and thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful. Unable to resist, Booth indulged himself in placing a innocent kiss on her lips, and then leaning forward he whispered into her ear.

"Rest now, Temperance." He brushed the hair from her face and allowed his fingers to trace the gentle furrow of her brow. Her eyes cracked open then and focused narrowly on him.

"s'nice Seeley." Brennan stared at him through hooded eyes and a sweet smile graced her lips. "love you."

"I love you too, Temperance," Booth responded automatically as he smiled back at her. He froze instantly once he realized what he'd said, what she'd said, then let loose a small breath at the thought that in this exhausted state his Bones would likely remember nothing in the morning. Instead of panicking he simply leaned forward and placed another chaste kiss on her lips. "You get some sleep now, okay?"

"m'kay…love m'seeley…go sleep…" and before she could finish her sentence, small, soft snores were all that he heard.

Booth stood up carefully, so as not to disturb her. Crossing her office he went to the stereo and began searching through the CD's in her collection. It didn't take long to find the one he wanted, Bernstein's Nocturne, and he set it to play softly, providing enough background noise to drown out any external intrusions from the lab. Next to her desk he went, a few seconds with paper and pen were productive enough, but more so was the unplugging of her desk phone and his turning off her cell. Heading for the door, Booth quickly shut the blinds, and then, gathering his jacket, took one last look at her laying contentedly on the couch, finally at rest, the faint sound of her soft snore and the melodic strains of the Pavane pour une infante défunte filling the office. Sighing, Booth gently eased his way out of her office. Standing silently at the door, he listened for any sign of distress, but happily there was nothing but the soft sounds of Bernstein. Smiling to himself he taped the handwritten note to the door and turned away, humming along with the music. Booth couldn't help but grin as he thought of his beautiful partner and the unguarded moment they'd shared. Even if Brennan couldn't recall the words they'd spoken, even if she never said them again, the fact that they'd been said, that some part of her loved him, was more than he'd ever thought he'd deserve.

Camille Saroyan was an excellent pathologist and a thoroughly competent administrator but the work that her Forensic Anthropologist generated from one case alone was enough to make her crazy a dozen times over. She had stacks of invoices, vouchers, forensic reports, consultation requests, résumés , and more than a few complaint forms in her hands, all of which she was convinced needed Dr Brennan's immediate attention. Imagine her consternation when she approached the good Doctor's door, only to find her progress blocked by the impressive bulk of one Special Agent Seeley Booth, who'd been heading in the opposite direction. Booth regarded her intently, a look Cam was used to seeing him give suspects, not something she was used to experiencing from the receiving end.

"Where do you think you're going, Cam?" Booth's tone was short, clipped, and to the point.

"To see Dr Brennan, I've got a lot of things needing her signature and a few more résumés for her to look over." Cam attempted to step past him but he slid easily in front of her again.

"Sorry, Cam, you can't disturb Bones right now." Cam stared at the hand on her shoulder that had suddenly arrested her forward progress.

"Excuse me? I happen to be her boss, Booth, and unless she's not in her office or you have a damn good reason, I am going in there."

Cam pushed his hand away and moved to get around him but found her progress halted yet again when he grabbed her shoulder and effortlessly spun her around.

"I said 'not gonna happen', Camille. What part of that didn't you get?"

"And I said 'I am still her boss', Seeley," Cam hissed at him. "What part of that didn't you get?"

Booth and Cam locked eyes. Camille Saroyan was not a soft woman by any means and the steel in her eyes spoke to her determination. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, a street cop turned forensic pathologist. She'd seen it all and almost nothing fazed her anymore. The man across from her had been a friend and occasional lover for the last fifteen years and she'd thought she knew everything about him, but the look he gave her now made her hesitate.

"What's wrong Booth? What's going on?" Cam was genuinely worried now; Booth's behavior demanded nothing less.

"Nothing, Cam, it's just that this last case was rough on all of us and Bones hasn't had more than four hours sleep in the last three days. She's been swamped with work and you know how she feels about letting things pile up. Take that in there to her and she'll insist on getting up and working until she collapses from exhaustion."

"I should send her home then," Cam nodded, but Booth could see she was really asking for his opinion.

"No. Just let her sleep."

"She's sleeping?"

"Who's sleeping?" Angela had almost reached Brennan's office door when Booth snagged her arm and lead her away to stand next to Cam.

"Dr Brennan. Booth was just telling me she's exhausted and needs to rest."

"Oh, and I really need to talk to her." Angela bit her lower lip and looked over Booth's shoulder at the note hanging on the door. "A 'Do Not Disturb' sign, Booth? You really think that's going to work?"

Just then Wendell walked up to the group and started toward Brennan's door. His hand had already hit the handle when Booth's meaty paw closed around his collar and yanked him backwards with enough force to cause the papers in his hand to go flying. His yelp of surprise was cut short as Booth's free hand slammed over his mouth with an audible slap. Booth's voice whispered menacingly in his ears.

"Wendell, I'm going to let you go now, and you're not going to make any loud noises, is that clear?" Wendell nodded. "Good."

Booth released Wendell, who turned to speak with the Agent, the protest on his lips dying along with his courage as he saw the stone-cold look on Booth's face. Wendell cast about and saw that Angela and Dr Saroyan both were now looking at Booth with hesitant expressions. Booth relaxed somewhat and let out an exhausted groan.

"Okay, you're right, Angela, this isn't going to work. Everyone can see the sign, but in typical squint fashion, you all just assume it doesn't apply to you." He looked at them, from Angela, to Wendell, to Cam, and shook his head. "Cam, I'm going to pack up Bones' stuff and take her home. She'll be in late tomorrow. Make sure she gets NO calls between now and then. We get a body, I'll take You, Hodgins, Wendell, hell anyone I can get my hands on and deal with the fallout later."

"Good luck with that. If we get a case and Bren's not first on the scene she's going to be pissed, Booth. You know she doesn't like anyone messing around with her crime scene," Angela chided him.

"Seriously, Angela? After four years of working with Bones you think I somehow missed that little tidbit?" Booth snorted. "She won't like it and she'll bitch and moan to me about it until I'm ready to strangle her, but guess what? Better that, than she miss the next three cases because she's hospitalized for exhaustion."

Booth ran his hand through his hair and turned around to look at the assembled group of squints. He liked them all, he really did, but each and every one of them was getting on his last fucking nerve.

"News flash, people, you all are the absolute best at what you do and that's why I like working with you guys, but my FBI forensics team, you know, the one I've hand picked to work with Bones and me? The one that's logged four years of field time working her crime scenes? They're pretty damned good themselves when it comes to evidence collection. No rookies on my team, no one with less than a dozen recoveries and no one Bones doesn't know. Hell, Geier has been working with us since the beginning and even Bones trusts him to work the scene for her without losing evidence. We can handle a recovery without Bones for one day…not that I'm looking to proving that point."

"Uh-huh. And why is that?" The smirk on Angela's face made Booth grin in response.

"The woman has a mean right hook, that's why!" Angela chuckled at his admission.

"Alright Booth, I'll sort through everything and make sure her schedule is cleared through 9AM tomorrow. Get your girl home and make sure she gets some rest," Cam smiled at him. "And no late night hi-jinks."

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious, Camille."

"Right back at ya', big guy. Oh, and Seeley?" Booth looked at Cam intently for a second. "Take care of yourself too. You're looking a little worn around the edges there."

"Thanks, Cam."

Booth stood there until Cam and Wendell had returned to work. Angela, however, hadn't moved, and stood expectantly, with her arms crossed, watching him intently.

"What, Ange?"

"Oh, I'm just wanting to see how you pull this off. She's not going to want to go, and if you try and carry her out of here she'll likely kick your ass, so I'm not moving – the show alone is worth the price of admission."

Booth's look of exasperation must have been comical instead of threatening, because the artist's face split into a large grin, despite his best efforts to shoo her away. Finally he shook his head at her and walked toward Brennan's office, carefully opening the door and stepping inside.

Angela watched Booth walk quietly through the door into Brennan's office. For some reason she half expected his attempt at stealth to be like any other man's, an over exaggerated dance involving walking on tip-toes and ridiculously choreographed movements that conveyed the idea of stealth but doing nothing to actually achieve it. In fact, Angela was so prepared for the spectacle that she'd held her breath expecting to stifle a laugh, or at least a chuckle, but she'd forgotten one thing. This was Booth.

Instead of the comically exaggerated mannerism she'd expected, Booth simply was stealthy. Once the sounds of the door handle giving way and the faint whisper of the hinges shifting died out, there was nothing coming from the room except for the soft sounds of some easy listening music she couldn't quite place, and Brennan's own breathing. Booth made no noise, not only that, but his stance was almost catlike and the grace with which he moved was definitely feline. He glided across the floor, his feet making no sound at all, not even the soft tell-tale whisper of someone trying to pad across a hard surface in dress shoes. She became even more aware of his skill when she took the last few steps toward Brennan's door and was shocked at how loud her own foot falls sounded to her. Angela watched in awe then as he moved purposefully across the room, gathering files from her desk into her soft case, placing her laptop in there as well, as he quickly slung it around his shoulder. Next he grabbed her purse and in a surprising move he closed the distance between them and handed it to Angela. Her mouth must have been open because as she unhesitantly accepted the object thrust at her chest, she was stunned to feel his fingers pressed under her chin and push it closed. She would have said something caustic just then but the warm smile and liquid brown eyes that accompanied it chased any such thoughts from her mind.

With ample appreciation she noted his sheer physicality, watching as he swiftly and effortlessly gathered her best friend into his arms, throw and all. She smiled to herself as Brennan's arms automatically wrapped themselves around him, her hands interlacing behind his neck as her head burrowed its way into the join between neck and shoulder. Noting his physical aspects again she watched as Booth moved through the office and toward the doorway, Brennan enfolded in his arms, acting as if it took no more effort to carry her than it did to carry his jacket slung over his shoulder. She was entranced in the scene, but that trance ended when he spoke to her.

"Angela," Booth's attempt at a whisper was more of a hiss. "my phone, right front jacket pocket. Get it for me, please."

Angela did as he asked without question, snaking her hand beneath the dangling feet of her best friend and reaching carefully into the Agent's jacket pocket. She found his phone and retrieved it, holding it expectantly in front of him.

"Thanks. Speed dial '7' for me?"

Again Angela did so without question or comment, and as she heard it ring once, she held it to the side of his head. She assumed that he was calling to clear his schedule, but the conversation that happened next took an unexpected turn.

"Clarence? Hey Gunny it's Booth. Look I'm in Medico-Legal. I need a detail down here. Yeah, Brennan's own. Have them clear and seal the hallway from the lab exit all the way down to the garage. No, I need it sooner than now, I need it yesterday. No eyes or ears on this one either. Yep, that's right. Sure, we gotta protect our girl…good man, Clarence. We're leaving now. Thanks."

She snapped the phone shut once the conversation ended and looked expectantly at Booth.

"Thanks, Ange. Can you set it to vibrate and hang onto that for me."

"Sure, but won't you be needing your phone?"

"Yeah, but you can give it to me when we get to the truck." Booth saw the look of surprise in her face. "You wanted to see the show, no point leaving before it's over."

"Right, studly." She followed Booth as he set a leisurely pace toward the doors leaving the lab. "So, Brennan's own? Since when does Bren have her own security detail, and does she actually know that she has one? 'Cause I'm betting she doesn't."

"First, it's not like I'm being over-protective or anything…"

"No, not a bit," Angela rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Booth ignored her and continued. "…but after Epps, the Gravedigger, and the whole Gormogon fiasco? Well, I'm a realist Ange, and the reality of life in this line of work is that as long as she's my partner, she's at risk, and as much as I'd like to I can't hover around here 24/7 watching after her and still get my job done. I knew the solution but ultimately there were two problems. First, was finding anyone I trusted to stand in for me, I mean it's Bones for cryin' out loud no way I was letting the jokers working here handle it. Only the best would do for her and since the best wasn't available I needed to find a way to change that."

They'd come to the doors of the lab, and Booth waited while Angela held the door open for him and he stepped into the hallway, his precious cargo still sleeping soundly in his arms. Angela was stunned when she realized that the normally bustling hallway was devoid of any human presence other than their own.

"Anyway since the FBI screens all job applicants for the Jeffersonian's security office I managed to get that function officially added to my list of job responsibilities." Booth caught the look on her face and answered the question before it was even asked. "I'm the liaison, after all, who better to review and approve the security personnel than me?"

"Right. So then you took it upon yourself to use your new position to hire your own little army specifically to watch out for Bren? You know, sweetie, for someone who claims that you guys are just partners, you put a lot of effort into taking care of her and watching over her like a sweet, scarily over-protective boyfriend."

Booth didn't break stride and didn't bother to look at Angela as he responded.

"First of all, we are partners Angela. I know you want us to be something more, but it just isn't going to happen before Bones is ready for it to happen. Even then…" Booth hesitated for a second, "when it happens. Well, I honestly don't know if I'm the right man for her."

Angela was momentarily speechless at his sudden admission. Booth all but declared that he was, in fact, in love with the woman he was holding, her best friend, but he seemed sad about it instead of happy. She couldn't understand how he wouldn't think he was the right man for Brennan.

"Trust me, honey, you're the right man for the job. Hell, you're the only man that hasn't left her, betrayed her, or broken her heart. In my book you're pretty close to the perfect man period, and believe me, Brennan's more than ready."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence Angela, but I-I've got a past. I've…done things, things I'm not proud of, things that…" His voice trailed off before he resumed his train of thought. "I just can't help but think that Bones deserves better than me."

"Better than a man who'll carry her all the way from her office to his car and drive her home? Better than a man who's put together his own private army just to protect her? Better than a man who'd close down an entire section of the Jeffersonian just to spare her ego?" Angela scoffed. "I'd like to meet that guy."

"How about a man that doesn't let her get to the point that she needs protecting? If I'd been a better partner and friend she wouldn't be so exhausted right now, she wouldn't need this."

"Okay, now you're just talking crazy, Booth. You know Bren, trying to stop her from doing what she wants to do is like fighting the incoming tide. You can try but it's coming in anyway." Angela touched his arm gently, making sure not to disturb Brennan, and squeezed the taut muscle affectionately. "The truth is, Booth, you've actually done it more times than I can count. In all the time we've been friends I've never known Brennan to change her mind once it's made up, but you've done it. You've changed her mind, you've pushed back the incoming tide Booth. You can't do it all the time, but you're the only person I've ever known who could do it at all. That in itself is nothing short of a miracle. You're good for her, you know, and you deserve her. Actually you two deserve each other."

The pair made the rest of the way in companionable silence. Brennan remained coiled in Booth's arms, sleeping soundly with only the faintest of kittenish sounds escaping to indicate how deeply she was asleep. The deserted hallways of the Jeffersonian were eerily quiet except for the soft pad of his feet and the click-clack of her boots as they walked. As they came to the elevator doors Angela pushed the buttons and accompanied the pair as the car went down to the garage.

In the garage she again found her way into Booth's jacket pocket, this time retrieving his keys and using the remote to unlock the doors to his SUV. Angela opened the passenger side door, and Booth carefully, almost reluctantly, placed his charge into the seat. He struggled to disengage her arms and had to enlist Angela's assistance in getting her hands from around his neck. Angela was amazed that she'd barely woken up at all, so exhausted was her friend that except for a few grumbles as her hands were pulled off Booth she hadn't stirred. Once she was settled into the passenger seat Booth pulled her seatbelt into place and gently closed the door.

"Thanks for everything, Angela." Booth held out his hands and accepted the keys and phone from her. "And do us both a favor, don't push Brennan. You know her better than anyone but on this one thing listen to me, please, and don't push her, okay? If you do and she's not ready for it, well, that won't go well for either of us. Anyway, even if she is ready I'm still not sure I'm the right guy for her."

"Hey, at least give yourself a chance? Maybe you should take your own advice for once, let her make up her own mind as to whether you're good enough for her. Brennan is a genius you know, and I'm no slouch in the relationship area. If we both think you're worth the risk maybe you should too."

"Yeah, maybe."

"By the way, you said there were two problems but you only really talked about one of them, what's the other?"

"Figuring out a way to tell Brennan that leaves all the important parts of my anatomy intact and functional." Booth's lopsided grin drew a small laugh from Angela. "Still haven't figured out a way to do that one."

"Good luck there, stud, even if you do it from another state she'll just wait until you get back to karate kick your ass into next week."

"Yeah, the physical beating I can take it's the anthropological lectures that scare me. I don't know what I'll do if she starts in on the 'inherent inequity of our patriarchal system as it applies to the opportunities and responsibilities available to girls in our society'," Booth's voice, though soft out of habit, managed to capture her tone perfectly, forcing Angela to choke back a laugh. "I swear the last time I heard that one it had me contemplating gnawing off a limb to escape."

Angela shot Booth a wry look. "That sounds almost like a real Bren speech too."

"It is, I swear. I got that one when she overheard me explaining to Parker that it was never okay to hit girls, even if they hit you first. I told him a gentleman should always protect a girl and if she gets violent, to leave before anything happens."

"And Bren had a problem with that?"

"Apparently I was perpetuating the antiquated notion of chivalry and promoting the stereotype that girls were inherently weaker than boys and needed to be protected."

Angela smiled at that, the thought of Booth and Brennan arguing over raising a child somehow seemed so right to her that she decided once the two finally were together that was her next mission – Aunt Angela had a nice ring to it anyway.

Booth gave Angela his best charm smile just then, complete with warm brown eyes designed to melt the hardest heart, grabbing her shoulders gently he leaned in placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks, Ange. I'll call to let you know she's home safe."

She felt the flush creeping into her cheeks even before he'd made it to his side of the SUV and placed the key in the ignition. Her senses were reeling as her friends drove off and as she finally came back to herself, the one thought that resounded through her mind was 'Damn, that man. One look, one little peck, and I'm tingling all over. How can Brennan keep from jumping his bones or turning into a pile of goo when she's with him as much as she is?'

Sighing she turned and walked back toward the elevators. She would honor Booth's request and she wouldn't push Brennan, for now. But that didn't mean she wouldn't be pumping her best friend for every gory detail when she came back into work tomorrow, hopefully with a 'best sex of my life' glow about her. Now more than ever Angela Montenegro, professional artist, hopeless romantic, and part-time yenta, was sure those two belonged together. If only she could get them to see that as well.

A/N: As always, feedback is welcome