A/N: This fits best in S5, no spoilers. Rating changed to T because it's more sweet than steamy. And seriously, if I owned these characters, would I be publishing here?

"The Drip in the Closet"

Her phone rang, which of course she had been expecting for the last half hour, and she was still in no convenient position to answer it. But she knew it was Booth, and if she didn't answer, he would soon be pounding on her door or, perhaps, even through her door within 10 minutes. She dropped the sopping wet towels in a pile, hoping that at least the flood would hold steady until she could get back to evacuating her possessions from the area.

"Brennan," she practically chirped, attempting to sound cheerful and awake (rather than the sleep deprived grouch she actually was at this moment).

"Bones, what's the deal with your voice? I'm outside your building. Where the hell are ya? I got your coffeeeeee." She could hear the grin and imagine him waggling the cup as he spoke into the phone. Even when inconvenient and somewhat annoying, she had to grudgingly admit that his attempts to ease her progress through the day were often endearing, therefore she was able to curb her momentary inclination to rudeness.

"Booth, I'm afraid I'm not in the position to be able to accompany you in this morning. I've had some difficulties with my plumbing in the night-"

"Whoa, Bones, T-M-I."

"What?"

"I don't need to hear about your lady problems."

She sighed. "The pipes in the bathroom upstairs began leaking last night, and I was awakened at 4:16 this morning by a drip on my forehead. I've had to move everything out of the way in the bedroom-"

"Need some help?" The white knight kicked into gear, beginning his charge up the stairs.

"No, that's not what I meant. I am in no position at this time to leave, since I am trying to save my furniture and the entire contents of my closets, which you know, is quite extensive."

"Yeah, Bones, you and Heidi Klum. I'm already outside your door. I'm letting myself in, okay? Okay, bye." And just like that, she heard the spare key in her front door, followed by his brisk and competent stride down the hallway to the bedroom. How can a stride sound competent? Completely incongruous.

"Okay, let's see here..." Booth shucked his coat and jacket at the bedroom door and left them lying in the hall. "What a mess. When's the plumber getting here?" He pulled the palm tree tie from around his neck and carefully unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, then hung both on the doorknob, leaving him only in a white undershirt. Ready for work.

"Soon, according to the super. But I have to get the closets emptied. Some of these things are quite special, and I can't replace them. You didn't need to come in. I don't need you in the way while I'm moving things." Her face was scrunched up in irritation, and her ponytail barely qualified as such, so much of her hair had come loose. Booth noticed that the t-shirt she was wearing looked strangely familiar—since when had she been a Phillies fan?—and was soaked almost through. It hit her about mid-thigh, and there didn't seem to be much under it. Not a bad look in general, but he needed to focus on her problem of the moment, not the enticing nature of her attire.

"You are such a grouch. Here, let me move this." He moved to the soggy area of carpet beside her dresser and began shifting the large piece toward the doorway.

"Stop, that's too heavy! You'll injure your back again."

Rather than reply, he simply moved the highboy several feet outside the flood zone, both giving them more room to work on the closets and saving the expensive piece, then turned to give her a smile, an early morning Booth special. "See? No problems. Now let me help you with that stuff."

She huffed and grunted a sound that might be interpreted as a "Thanks," then continued removing her wardrobe. "Fine. I'm moving everything to the bedroom down the hall. Mostly what's left is gowns, so be careful. Don't just grab them all at once, some of them are very expensive." She squished past him with arms full of suits.

"Some of them are very expensive," he muttered.

"What? I can't hear you."

"I'm not a Neanderthal, Bones, I know you have fancy stuff in here." He reached in and withdrew a couple of long, flowing, beaded gowns. Was that a peacock feather? "Wow. Okay, here I come." Pausing in the doorway of the spare bedroom, he watched her trying to hang things in the closet without crushing them. Clothes were piled up on the bed as well. She looked exhausted and very, very unhappy. He lifted the hanger of the peacock gown and held it just below his chin. "What do you think? Does it bring out my eyes?" He grinned his most electric smile, hoping the energy would somehow transmit across the space and warm her.

She turned toward him, puzzled, then let out her breath in a snort of exasperation (which didn't quite hide the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth). "It's perfect. Now hang it up."

"Yes, ma'am." With a flowing twirl, he brought the dresses to her at the closet. "In here? Dear God, woman, how many dresses do you need?" He carefully pressed items already in the closet to the side and hung his burdens on the rod.

"It's Angela's fault. Every time I have to go to an event, an award presentation, an exhibition opening, or any of the ridiculous things my publishers insist upon, she drags me shopping. I love beautiful clothes, and she has wonderful taste, but even I can see she's a bad influence on me." She paused for a moment. "Some of these things I've only worn once. That seems very wasteful, doesn't it?"

They headed back to the master bedroom for another load. "Well, you do have the money to spend, Bones, and I gotta admit, you always look great in your fancy duds." He caught her small smile and the gentle blush of her neck. "But you look good in anything. Like that fine Phillies t-shirt you're wearing. Which boutique sold you that?"

"Uh...I acquired it during a field operation."

"Hmm."

"I was chilly, and this was in your gym bag in the truck."

"Ah."

"I didn't think you'd miss it."

"Mm-hmm."

"Or catch me."

The choice between making her cringe and enjoying her in his shirt was a difficult one, and he wasn't quite ready to let it go so quickly, but there was work to do. "So yeah, anyway, all this stuff is a lot of space and waste. You could donate it."

"To whom?"

"Whomever you wanted to, but St. Mary's has a great resale shop. Some pretty high class stuff in there."

"Why would I want to give my expensive gowns to a church? You know how I feel about the pathos of organized religion."

"Yeah, Bones, but the proceeds of the shop go to support the battered women's shelter they run over in Shepherd Park. And I know you'd be interested in supporting families who are victims of domestic violence."

He did have a point there. "That's something to be considered. But right now I feel our priority should be to remove these future donations to a location where their structural integrity won't be compromised by my neighbor's overflowing toilet."

"Good idea." He waited until she had filled her arms once again and departed, then stepped into the closet for his next load. Another flippy flouncy thing he'd never seen (crimson this time), a green velvet number she'd worn to the Christmas party last year, and...what's this? This was short. Short, black and...Roxie? This was the dress he'd picked out for her when they were in Vegas. The super hot, God-he-can't-get-the-image-out-of-his-head dress he'd zipped up for her. Oh, man.

"Booth, hurry up. I don 't want those things in there when the super and the plumber arrive."

He didn't want the super or the plumber seeing this dress either. "Bones?"

"What?"

"Uh, never mind." He quickly grabbed a couple more dresses and took them to the spare bedroom. They passed in the hall, so he was able to place them all in the closet without her observation. He put the oh-so-hot Roxie dress in the furthest corner, in the middle of all her everyday lab clothes. No way was he going to let her get rid of it. He paused, eyes closed, and just for a moment remembered how her breasts pushed up in the front of the dress, the curves calling to him, her skin so velvety looking and pale against the bad girl black. The hairs on his arms stood up and his pants became somewhat uncomfortable.

"Are you helping or napping?" Brennan stood right behind him, arms spread to hold another pair of long skirts from trailing on the floor. "These are the last ones. Help me make room for these."

"Yes, ma'am, right away." After the Roxie memory, the short t-shirt was more difficult to ignore.

"Booth, cut it out, I'm not that bad. I'm just really tired and upset. This is not how I wanted to spend my morning."

While one half of his brain thought about how he'd like to spend the morning, the other half slipped into comfort mode. "I know. I'm sorry. But this does seem like a sign that you should clean out your closet, Bones."

"There's no such things as signs, but I agree that I have too many clothes." She paused. He was still turned away from her, looking in the corner of her closet and appearing to be contemplating...something. "Booth, are you okay? Are we late for something? Did we have a case? I'm sorry, I should have thought to at ask—"

"No, Bones, everything's fine. We don't have to be anywhere this morning. Want some coffee? I also brought you a whole wheat bagel. Toasted, mmm-mmm!" He reached out a hand and she took it.

"Thanks." She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm famished." Dropping his hand, she started down the hallway before him, and he gladly followed, imagining how the frayed hem of his old shirt might occasionally tickle the backs of her thighs. One dangling string in particular.

"Maybe eating will help you be less of a grouch." He couldn't help it; he wanted to play with her.

"I doubt it. I'm generally pretty sour and petulant, as you well know, especially when confronted with circumstances less than ideal for my productivity and efficiency. Or you, when you're being insufferable."

"Ouch! The lady lashes out at her rescuer." Reaching the dining table, where he had deposited their breakfast, she indicated a chair at the head of the table for him while she retrieved plates and napkins from the kitchen. "But my hope springs eternal. I will get you to smile, in spite of the sogginess of your bedroom, ."

She settled on the chair beside him, curling one leg underneath and allowing the other to swing carelessly. "Hrm. We'll see." He slid his leg out a little further, into the path of hers. She let hers continue to swing, tapping gently on his shin while she removed the lid from her coffee and unwrapped her bagel. "Coffee. Good. Want some brown sugar for yours?"

"That would actually be pretty excellent."

Reaching to the middle of the table, she scooted the sugar bowl over toward him. "When did you start keeping brown sugar on the table?" he asked, stirring in two generous teaspoons then slurping the spoon appreciatively between his lips.

She couldn't help noticing both the happiness in his eyes at finding his favorite condiment and the delicious way his lips covered the spoon. "I thought since you're always plotting some way to insinuate yourself into my apartment whenever food is involved, it behooves me to be prepared for the invasion." The delicious lips smiled at her again, and suddenly the knots of tension in her neck and shoulders didn't seem so bad.

"So Bones, about your high fashion collection in there," Booth continued, pausing only briefly to take a deep bite into his egg sandwich and thank God once again for bacon, "I could ask one of the sisters to give you a call. They could pick up everything and you wouldn't have to bother with any of it." He took a deep swig of his coffee and smacked his lips. "Ah! Perfection. Anyway, it's a good shelter, with computer classes and housing assistance—"

"Do they help women dress for job interviews? There's a program out of New York called Dress for Success that helps women in need look more professional. Many of my things would work well for that." She watched his eyes light up.

"Exactly! So should I ask them to call you?"

She was quiet for a moment, chewing her bagel (she could imagine his comment: cardboard takes longer to chew than real food). "Could we go by the shelter? I think I'd be interested in seeing it myself."

"Come on, Bones, can't you just take my word? This is my church, after all, and I ought to know about them."

"No, that's not what I mean. I meant to say that they sound excellent, and I'd like to take a look to see if there's anything else I could do to contribute to their, well, their mission, I guess. I have access to a wide variety of resources."

He looked up. Of course that was it. "You are amazing, Bones. I'd be honored to take you for a visit." And there it was—the smile he'd set out to earn. Warmth flooded through him as, again, his brain carried on two separate trains of thought: How could I have been such an idiot? Of course she's interested, and she has such an amazingly generous heart. Meanwhile, the other half: God, I love her. Do I have time to grab her before the plumber gets here?

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door. "Dr. Brennan? It's Charlie. I've got the plumber here to check out the damage. We've got the water turned off upstairs." Brennan stood to answer the door.

"Uh, Bones? As much as I admire what you're wearing now, you may want to reconsider answering the door like that." She looked down at the still-damp t-shirt clinging to her breasts and thighs. Her face flushed full red.

"Just a minute!" She ran for the guest bedroom to retrieve something more appropriate. Then he remembered-

"Bones!" he called out, following her down the hall. "There's one dress in there you shouldn't put on, at least not now. And there's no way you're getting rid of it..."

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This is the first story I've written and/or published like this, so extra thanks for the encouraging reviews I've already received. Quite the ego stroke! I'll do my best to post more when I can. There are a lot of good writers on this site, and reading their work was the kick in the pants I needed to start typing. Hope you're similarly inspired!