Sticky Situations-M-Humour (I hope...) – By kiki Posted 21/09/2007 08:54:02 PM

A2BOREANAZ

Posted 01/02/2008 00:30:12 AM


yay kiki...........how funny.........ahhh dont you just love the booth man........sliding his hand up her leg.......wonderful....and her complaining the whole time........love it.....love you......now i need more...........

CheeseBK

Posted 01/02/2008 01:57:48 AM


haha, i so love this one.... just awesome!

flyersfan35

Posted 03/02/2008 00:15:43 AM


Hehe....I know where it goes next..

Come on, silly irish lass! Hurry up and post the next one, your fans are getting restless!

nane

Posted 03/02/2008 06:22:48 AM


this is so fun to read... ok read it already over at the other place. But doesn´t matter it was a pleasure to read it again. Love them both all flustered and stuff....

hy6110327

Posted 03/02/2008 08:54:41 PM


Te-he!

That was just simply amazing, as always.

These situations are just going to get better and better and better and better......Aren't they? Of course they are.

I can't wait for the next chapter!

otismotis

Posted 04/02/2008 01:59:21 PM


Kiki ---- I have this wonderful story save as my favorite and it always makes me laugh. A couple of ideas....Remember when Booth told Bones to park her new car at an angle and It got banged up, what if something like that happened to Booth's SUV.
We know why Sully was called Peanut, but what about Booth's nickname....I know what nickname could he possibly have....but you can do it Kiki....I know you can, or Willgirl, IhartBooth, RedRider.....what kind of story can you come with that refers to Booth's nickname over at the FBI??

BonBon

Posted 04/02/2008 05:19:56 PM


sorry it took me so long to review... these are freaking funny... cracked me the hell up... i have never read these kiki... so glad i got too... i hope there are more!!

Bella Loony

Posted 05/02/2008 02:03:16 PM


Hey Kiki,

If I purposely fractured my FIBULA could you send Booth to help 'mend' me???? Not that I would of course, 'cause then I'd have to explain it to the Big Dub, but wouldn't that be sweet?

I love how Bones had to upstage the doctor at every chance, just in case people didn't know who she was. You are so fantastic, I LOVED IT!!

Bella

Kiki

Posted 18/04/2008 10:10:08 AM

Ohmigosh, I'm so sorry! I COMPLETELY forgot about updating this. Well, here's the next installment...which follows on from the last "situation"...if anybody still cares and if you haven't all forgotten what that is...seeing as it's been so ridiculously long. Apologies again.

********************************
He could do this. No big deal really. Somewhere he would find the courage to finally cross the threshold into the brightly lit pharmacy and complete the errand Brennan had set him. A lot easier said than done.

Breathe. That’s all he really had to remember. Just breathe.

It had been far easier running into the local newsagent and picking up her favourite magazines. With titles like ‘Modern Scientist’ and ‘Forensic Anthropology Today’, Booth had walked up to the cash register with a bit of a swagger, relishing the approving looks thrown his way when people caught sight of the impressive sounding subscrïptions.

Which had all come to pieces slightly when some guy had practically skipped up to him, face shining with excitement, and had asked this really complicated, in-depth question about something Booth couldn’t even pronounce, and his retort had been, simply, “Mmmhmm.” Not counting that little incident, the experience had been extremely ego boosting.

This, however…this was different. And not in a good way.

Reminding himself of the band-aid analogy (rip it off quickly and the pain doesn’t last as long), he gathered up all his fortitude, puffed out his chest and half-ran, half-fell into the pharmacy.

Good. At least he was now inside. All he had to do was… Oh God. He wanted to die. This was just so humiliating.

Ducking low, he quickly moved down the aisle nearest him. Toothpaste, floss and toothbrushes filled the tightly packed shelves. He had absolutely no idea where to find the items Brennan was looking for. Giving himself a quick mental shake, he straightened up. He could do this. He had been an army ranger for crying out loud. A simple trip to the local pharmacy for his invalid partner shouldn’t floor him like this.

He gave a sigh of relief when he found the shampoo aisle. This would be a snap. He didn’t even need to consult the list she’d given him. He already knew, thanks to previous snooping in her bathroom, what shampoo she used.

However, when he reached out to pick up the pastel coloured container, he couldn’t help remarking to the woman next to him, “This is for my partner. She’s a woman.” The teenager stared back at him, pierced tongue visible through her open mouth.

“Dude, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, just thought you should know. Just in case you thought I used this stuff. Which I don’t. Not that I don’t use shampoo. I do. I just use…”

The girl stalked off.

Pleased with himself, Booth began humming as he went in search of the make-up stands. This was easy. What was he so scared about?

He found the appropriate section very quickly. It was heavily advertised and densely populated. He gave his list a quick consultation before diving into the throng.

He ended up having a, somewhat brief, wrestling match with a spry redhead for the last ‘Arabian Amber’ lipstick and a fifteen minute conversation with a middle aged housewife about the benefits of good foundation. She’d even volunteered some tips about his own cleansing regime and had given him the name of a fantastic cream to eradicate large pores, which they both agreed were a nightmare to get rid of and extremely unsightly.

Strutting slightly with success, Booth consulted the list again. Razors. Hmm. He ducked in and out of aisles for a number of minutes before stumbling across the correct one. His jaw dropped in astonishment. So many different brands of razors. And so many different types. Some boasting long lasting effects, others that they were suitable for use on sensitive skin. A few claimed they could be used in a multi-directional manner (this caused an impromptu giggling fit, for some inexplicable reason). A couple of the battery operated ones advertised that they were perfect for use in the shower. What good would they be otherwise?

He was determined not to call Brennan. He could figure this out on his own. The only question that really needed to be answered was…he had no clue. How on earth was he going to figure this out? A woman came across him five minutes later, lost in nervous, frantic giggling. Taking pity on the wretched creature, she decided to offer a hand. She almost regretted it when he spent the next minute and a half reassuring her that they weren’t for his use, even though she’d indicating nothing to the contrary.

After his third repetition of “I’m a man. I use men’s razors.” she exploded at him, “Yes, dearie, I’ve noticed you’re a man. I don’t need you to tell me. You also don’t need to tell every single person who walks past that you’re shopping for your partner, who is in fact, a woman. I get it. The whole D.C. area probably gets it. That poor woman that you followed down the aisle, just in case she didn’t catch what you said, DEFINITELY gets it.”

Booth blushed and nodded in agreement. The woman began asking questions about Brennan’s skin type. She couldn’t help but notice Booth’s undertone mantra of “I’m a man. These are for my partner. I use men’s razors.” almost as though he just wanted to reassure himself of the fact.

Finally, the two had picked out a suitable one. The woman left Booth frantically turning his head from the package in his right hand to the package in his left, desperately trying to choose between pink and purple. It took a while.

He decided to pick up a shaving cream as well. It hadn’t been on Brennan’s list, but he figured it would look very professional and thoughtful. As though this whole excursion had been a walk in the park that he’d simply breezed through. Forgoing another twenty-minute decision, he decided to pick the one that had packaging most similar in colour to the shampoo. Ridiculously pleased with his ingenuity, he consulted the hand-written list once more.

His face paled. That last item. The one he’d avoided looking at since the paper had been shoved in his hand. The one he had nearly had an aneurysm over when he first read it and had run, squeaking, from Brennan’s presence. She, of course, thought that his reaction was incredibly amusing.

Continuously clearing his throat, he approached a girl wearing a dark uniform, the pharmacy’s name emblazoned across the back. He decided to avoid a tentative search around the shop looking for the appropriate aisle and simply bite the bullet and ask someone straight out. It didn’t quite work out like that.

“Excuse me, where’s the ladies’ aisle?”

The girl stared at him. Who could blame her really when Booth had spoken through a hand clamped over his mouth, terrified that someone would hear what he was asking for.

“What?”

“The…” he lowered his hand, but darted his eyes in a very paranoid way from side to side, “the special section for the ladies. You know the one.” His voice cracked slightly.

“Oh! You mean the sanitary…”

Booth practically rugby tackled her.

“Shh!” He began waving his arms frantically, bug-eyed.

He gestured wildly down both directions of the aisle.

“People!”

The girl looked slowly down the aisle. A toddler and her mother were at one end, about fifteen feet down. She turned her head in the other direction.

That was it.

Booth was visibly twitching.

The girl seemed to fighting a losing battle against a broad smile. He decided he should explain.

“Not for me, now. See, I’m shopping for my part…”

The girl gave out a quick bray of laughter and caught his arm.

“You! I’ve heard about you! The shopping for his partner guy!”

Booth blinked. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If news of his excursion had travelled around the pharmacy, did that mean he has behaving ridiculously? Surely not. Any guy in his position would have done the same.

The girl escorted him personally over to the specific section. She also managed to quickly and quietly pick out the necessary items, albeit with a number of low, wailing noises from Booth.

Four minutes later, Booth staggered out of the shop, two shopping bags clutched in his hands. He made his way haphazardly over to his car. When he was halfway there, Brennan rang, wondering why it had taken him an hour and a half to complete the messages. He practically sobbed down the phone at her.

Brennan spent two minutes consoling him and promising that she’d never ask him to do anything like that ever again. He made her repeat the promise a number of times. Every now and again, a high-pitched keening noise would escape him when he remembered his little adventure. When she finally hung up the phone, she was exhausted. She settled herself back on the couch, adjusting the pillow that was propping up her leg. Within moments, she was helpless with belly-rumbling laughter.

God. Men were such women.

flyersfan35

Posted 18/04/2008 07:04:55 PM


KIKI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was one of my favorites, I'm soooo glad you posted it!!!!!!!!! Even funnier the second time around! (Actually, probably the third, cuz I read it on ff, too)

Absolutey hysterical!!!

fanofbones

Posted 19/04/2008 10:30:48 PM


lol kiks...that was hilarious...and so Booth..
god I loved it so much
I actually had tears running everywhere....
god...men are such women....lol at that

Suggestions or prompts for next chapter:
1. Booth naked
2. Booth wet
3. Booth in a towel
4. Booth in boxers
5. Booth in jeans, no shirt, and barefoot

you can mix and match...your choice...
what? just trying to help things along

hugs woman
fab

phoebsfan

Posted 20/04/2008 01:14:25 AM


lol... kiki... you rock.

That was perfect. Thank you! Just what I needed.

Kiki

Posted 22/04/2008 11:50:42 AM

Ooh, thanks everybody!

Grandma: Aw, thanks, you're such a sweetie. I seem to remember you liking this one the first time around.

Fab: I hope this lives up to your expectations *crosses fingers*

Phoebs: Glad I could help!

And on we go. This one is again a continuation of the last.
******************************
Booth finally made it back to Brennan’s apartment, sniffling most of the way.

Brennan spent the majority of the time that he shuffled around the apartment, putting the items away, biting down furiously on the inside of her cheek. She was finding it difficult to even look at her traumatised partner. When, after twenty seconds of hopping frantically around in a circle and eventually firing the final item, still concealed in its bag, into Brennan’s room, a quick snort of laughter escaped her. As soon as Booth turned his enlarged eyes on her, the snort rapidly turned into a rather unconvincing cough.

“Thanks Booth.”

The poor man looked exhausted. He collapsed onto the couch beside her, breathing heavily. As much as she wanted to ridicule him to within an inch of his life over how childishly he was acting, this intensity of wanting was matched, even surpassed, by the need to keep concealed how much she actually needed him. What was even more uncomfortable to admit, and something that her subconscious kept probing at deep into the darkest hours of the night, was how this need did not stem from her simply being injured. Definitely not a sensible thought to be dwelling on.

After a few minutes of allowing him to wallow in his misery, Brennan tentatively poked him in the ribs.

“Come on, Booth. You made me wait until you got home before I could have my shower. The least you could do is help me to start the process.”

Booth shot up.

“The least? The LEAST?! I’ve just...and then...followed by...oh God...that was just so...”

He curled up into a ball, moaning fitfully.

Giving him a playful smack on the backside, Brennan shifted herself into a standing position.

Booth snapped to attention, eager to help and revived somewhat by her kidding around.

He sloped off to the bathroom, mumbling something about her owing him big time. Brennan sighed. She really would have to find some kind of gesture to show how much she appreciated his help. She’d worry about that later.

She hopped along to the bathroom herself. Booth had already set up two towels as close to the bath as possible: Brennan’s shower was positioned over the bathtub. Booth was moving the floor mat into what he felt was the most useful position. He then reached up and switched the shower on. As the first drops of water echoed off the plain white tiles, he turned to her with a grin.

“All done. You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

She smiled gratefully and squeezed his bicep gently in appreciation.

“Could you put the plug in?”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“I thought you were having a shower?”

“I am...but...maybe...just maybe if I find that too difficult, I could just sit down and have some semblance of a bath. It might...it might be easier to keep my leg elevated from a sitting position. But I probably won’t need to anyway.”

Knowing from experience that it was wisest to simply say nothing, Booth silently did what she requested. When he was finished, he turned to her once more.

“So, if you wanna get...ah...undressed (the pitch of his voice increased dramatically), I can come back in when you’re done and just sit on the toilet...” He gestured towards the ceramic toilet, lid down.

Brennan spluttered.

“What? No! When you said earlier that you’d sit nearby, I thought you meant sit...nearby. Not right on top of me! You can just sit outside. What if I fell...?”

Booth looked exasperated.

“All the more reason for me to...”

“No, I meant, what if I fell and you SAW...you know...things...”

Booth shot her his best charm smile.

“Can I remind you that you’re trying to get me to leave...not encouraging me to stay?”

He waggled his eyebrows. Brennan growled. He must have been practising that smile. It was taking all of her willpower not to invite him to join her.

“Booth, you can just sit outside. I’ll keep the door unlocked so if something goes wrong...” She made a door opening motion with her hand.

Looking quite disappointed, Booth nodded curtly and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He waited a couple of seconds to make sure she didn’t turn the key in the lock, then looked around the apartment for something to do.

He decided he could try and tackle some of her laundry. He dragged the basket over to her couch, well within earshot of the bathroom. Feeling slightly nervous, he peered inside.

What reason did he have to feel guilty? He was only a friend helping out another friend, after all. This was a perfectly innocent gesture. So why did it feel...well, naughty?

He gave himself a brief mental talking to, and then dipped his hands into the basket. He placed the resulting articles beside him on the seat. He sorted the two pairs of trousers and four different types of tops into ‘dark’ and ‘light’ piles. He let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. This was fine. This was perfectly normal. Encouraged, he reached his hands in again.

This time he came up with the items he had secretly been hoping to find all along. Brennan’s underwear. He had already seen the type of underwear she wore for...special occasions, but this...this felt more personal somehow. More intimate. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that this was what she was daily hiding under her clothes. Things nobody ever got to see. Except her. And now, him.

Feeling himself grow warm at this new, unforeseen connection between himself and his partner, he set about sorting these particular items of clothing into their respective piles. He handled them gently, respectfully, trying his utmost not to imagine Brennan wearing them.

A sudden shout split the air.

Booth jumped up, scattering underwear everywhere. He raced over to the bathroom and began hammering on the door.

“Bones? Bones? Are you ok? Bones, I’m coming in.”

He gently eased the door open and poked his head inside. Steam momentarily obscured his vision. Once his eyes had adjusted, he focused his gaze on the shower curtain that hid Brennan from view.

“Bones?”

He heard a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, Booth. I’m fine. I just...I was trying to wash my back, which is harder than it sounds when you’re trying to keep one leg out of the water, and I just lost my balance. Don’t really know how.”

Booth smiled to himself.

“Sounds hard enough, Bones. You ok?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“You wanna try that sitting down idea?”

“I guess.”

Booth quickly suppressed a grin, knowing how difficult it was for her to admit defeat.

He heard a splash as she eased herself into the water.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m...I don’t know where my sponge is.”

Trying desperately to fight his anticipation, Booth moved closer to the shower curtain.

“Look, Bones, why don’t I just wash your back for you? I won’t look, I promise. I can do that a lot easier than you can...and you...you can work on keeping your cast out of the water.”

Silence greeted him.

“Bones?”

“Ok, Booth. I...that was more tiring than I thought it would be. And this cast is pretty heavy.”

Incredulous at the lack of argument, Booth settled himself on the bathtub’s edge. Slowly, visibly trembling, he reached a hand around the curtain that separated the two.

“Where’s the sponge, Bones?”

“Here. I found it.”

She passed a warm, wet, ball of material into his hand. He could tell from the angle with which she did this, even without seeing, that she had her back to him. Unbeknownst to the other, each shivered slightly at the contact.

Booth was so nervous he managed to drop the sponge into the water.

“Aw sh...sorry, Bones. Hang on...”

He plunged a hand into the still warm liquid and swirled it around, searching blindly for the escaped sponge. After a number of seconds, during which time Booth got redder and redder at his apparent ineptitude, and Brennan let out one surprised yelp when his fingers made contact with somewhere unexpected, Booth held the sponge in his hand once more.

He reached his other hand around the curtain and squeezed some of the water out of the sopping material. He returned this hand back from behind the divide, an enticing, sophisticated scent accompanying this gesture.

He gently moved the sponge until it made contact with her skin. Both let out quiet gasps at the touch. Gaining confidence, Booth began to swirl the material across the smooth surface of her back.

Time seemed to freeze. Neither spoke. Neither seemed to breathe either.

After about two minutes, Brennan offered, “You know, Booth, there’s a top section to my back as well.”

Booth started, nearly dropping the sponge again. He moved it further north.

“I was just being thorough,” he muttered sulkily, not really sure if this was for her ears or his own.

Brennan smiled secretly and straightened her back, relishing the feeling of the material travelling over her tingling skin. Booth. She couldn’t believe that Booth was technically washing her. If Angela could see this... She let her head fall back, fighting with herself not to groan aloud.

“Are you cold, Bones?” Concern was evident in his voice. He’d felt her shudder violently.

“Em, yeah. Probably time we stopped...eh, I mean, I got out.”

He nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. He dropped the sponge gently into the water and moved his hand out from behind the curtain. His fingers brushed off her skin as he did. He honestly couldn’t tell if this had been a deliberate move on his part or if it was purely accidental. Either way, he could feel her burning up and her spine moving into his touch.

He stood up slowly, afraid any sudden movements would cause the memory of the last few minutes to fragment and scatter across the room, lost forever. He really didn’t want to forget it.

“You alright, Bones?”

He heard the sounds of falling water as she stood up and an affirmative grunt from Brennan. He handed the towels in to her. She took them off him wordlessly, then closed a hand briefly over his and gave it a quick squeeze. Blood immediately hurtled south and he struggled to reply. The feeling of her wet skin covering his really drove home just how naked she was and his mind was pummelled with some extremely explicit images.

Eventually he managed to croak, “You’re welcome, Bones.”

He moved towards the door. Before he left, he clarified, “You definitely paid me back, Bones. In fact, how about every time you owe me something, we just settle it this way? Seems to be easy enough for you and it definitely works for me.”

He quickly shut the door before she had a chance to protest. He never heard her spontaneous, quiet, even delighted, giggling.

karlia

Posted 22/04/2008 03:02:28 PM


LMAO!
That was freaking funny!!!!!!
Booth being thorough and all!!!
Awesome chapter!

flyersfan35

Posted 23/04/2008 06:33:57 AM


Oh kiki...*sigh* I forgot how hot that chapter was...

What can I say? Brilliant, as always...you are just such an amazing writer! Though somehow, you and kas seem to apparently think I'm lying when I review your stories, but seriously...*sigh*

CheeseBK

Posted 23/04/2008 07:00:27 AM


loved, kiki!!!

fanofbones

Posted 23/04/2008 10:53:49 PM


kiks...it was fabulously hot...
he is just so freaking adorable...
I love it when he whines...
he was so cute folding her underwear...

hugs woman
fab

phoebsfan

Posted 23/04/2008 11:07:44 PM


that was hot...that was... well... gaaah... no words... I'll be re-reading it a few times I think... yup... wow... just... gah...

nane

Posted 24/04/2008 08:51:26 AM


It is already so long ago that I read it? But second time it is brilliant too. I wonder when you will add another one? I think he needs to take care of her much more.....

gemgems

Posted 24/04/2008 09:32:11 AM


Hokay... I just read that all in one go... and wow... yum!

I actually laughed out loud when the girl said "The shopping for his partner guy!"

You're a very good writer AH! Woo for Kiki *bows down*

Kiki

Posted 28/05/2008 09:17:19 PM

Gah! I apologise...studying got in the way...very bold of me.
***************

“Come on, Bones! Pancakes!”

Booth turned to his partner, an impossibly wide grin stretched across his face as he desperately tried to balance a rather large mixing bowl containing a number of different ingredients.

Brennan gave him a blank stare.

Booth returned to the task of placing his items on her kitchen counter. Once he was finished, he set about warming her to the idea.

“It’ll be fun. They have to be eaten today. Everybody has to eat them today. It’s a rule.”

She raised an eyebrow in response.

“It is not a rule, Booth. This day means nothing to me. I’m not foolishly denying myself anything for the next forty days, so pancakes hold no real interest for me.”

Booth frowned.

“Aw, come on. Just this once, be…normal. Absolutely everyone has pancakes on Pancake Tuesday…or Shrove Tuesday, or whatever.”

The lines in her forehead deepened.

“No, not everyone has pancakes today. Besides, it’s a ridiculous tradition that is now incredibly outdated. The pancake was originally eaten on this day because fat, butter and eggs were forbidden during Lent. Now, nobody gives up these things, but everyone insists on gorging themselves on pancakes anyway.”

Booth muttered something about being a killjoy.

“I’m right, Booth, and you know it. Are you giving up any of those things?”

Booth was suddenly extremely interested in unpacking his ingredients.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here…flour, oh, we’ll need lots of that and…eggs…”

He attempted to lighten the mood by taking a number of eggs out of their container and juggling them. Brennan’s face remained set.

“Wow. Tough crowd. Ok, then…well, we have some butter and ooh, there’s some milk and, best part, the maple syrup.”

He held the syrup bottle flat in the upturned palm of his right hand while his left hand made a sweeping gesture behind it, as one might expect on a TV commercial.

In spite of her determination to remain indifferent, Brennan felt the side of her mouth being tugged sharply upwards.
Booth pointed at her, his smile back and the skin around his eyes crinkling in delight.

“Got you! Ok, now let’s get to work.”

Reluctantly, Brennan moved toward him. More truthfully, Brennan appeared to move toward him in a reluctant manner, when really she was rather pleased at the prospect of spending the afternoon baking with her partner. But who really cared about the truth anyway?

Booth lined up all of the ingredients on her counter. With that done, he pulled the final item from the bottom of the mixing bowl. A chef’s hat. Giving her a quick wink, he pulled the hat onto his head. Brennan couldn’t help but giggle as he spent the next two minutes trying to get the hat to sit perfectly straight.

When he was finally finished, she leaned over and pushed the hat over so that it rested on his head at a slight angle. He was all set to let out an exasperated roar when she gave the front of the hat a little pat (she was too small to reach the top) and said, “It looks good like that.”

Who was he to argue? She was the genius after all. And what the genius wanted, the genius got.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“How good?”

She let out a nervous laugh and gave him a gentle push. The kitchen seemed to have drastically shrunk in the last few seconds.

“Let’s get started, Booth.”

He nodded and began to pull his jacket off.

Brennan’s eyes grew to twice their normal size. He looked at her in astonishment.

“What?”

“You’re not doing that Naked Chef thing, are you?”

There was a beat of silence before Booth let out a number of brief guffaws.

“No! Why would you think…that’s so…why, do you want me to?”

His eyebrows wiggled again and his smile became dangerous.

“No, no. Clothing is fine. Clothing is good. In this kitchen,” she pointed downward, “clothing is mandatory.”

Booth’s face fell. He placed his jacket on one of the vacant counters, muttering encouragingly to himself that it wasn’t personal; she wasn’t being specific to him.

Brennan herself was wondering how many other rules she would have to come up with on the spur of the moment during the course of this little exercise.

Twenty minutes later, Booth was sitting sulkily on one of the farther counters, his hat balancing precariously off his ear. They had both learned that there was, apparently, no egg football, no drawing faces on the eggs, no flour fights, no trying to get the mixing spoon to float in the beaten eggs, no flour snowstorms, no milk waterfalls, no egg races and no Booth stirring the mixture (more seemed to go on the walls and, somehow, in his partner’s hair than actually stay in the bowl) in Brennan’s kitchen. Who knew?

Brennan was happily beating the mixture and humming absently to herself. She turned proudly to Booth, extremely satisfied with what she’d managed to accomplish.

Once he caught sight of her face, all of his annoyance instantly dissipated. Her eyes were shining, her skin was glowing and there was a light brushing of flour across her right cheek. His breath was catching in his throat just looking at her.

“Gorgeous, Bones.”

She met his gaze curiously. He clarified his statement by nodding at the mixing bowl. Both turned their attention to the plastic bowl, oblivious to the other’s disappointed face.

Booth cleared his throat and noisily went in search of a frying pan. Triumphant, he placed it on the heated stove and gestured to Brennan to join him with her mixture. She handed it to him somewhat reluctantly. He poured enough of the batter into the pan to thinly cover the bottom.

Once the mixture started to solidify, he started to show Brennan how to flip the pancakes. After observing him a number of times, she had a go at it herself. She was absolutely and completely hopeless.

Careful to hide his giggles (she had a mean right hook), he enclosed one of his hands around her slim wrist. For the next few minutes, in complete silence, he guided her through the flipping process. Occasionally Brennan let out a little gasp and Booth gave an approving grunt, but for the most part the two were quiet, savouring the experience. Both were desperately trying to ignore the way Booth’s body was pressed against Brennan’s back and the intense heat that was radiating from where Booth’s fingers touched her skin.

Neither seemed to want to hurry the process and, so, ten minutes later there was a sufficient number of pancakes to be divided and shared between them, the earlier ones having been kept warm in the oven.

Brennan wiggled out from in front of Booth and collected two plates and two sets of cutlery to carry out to the table. Grinning to himself over something, Booth carried out the plate of steaming, fragrant pancakes in one hand, the bottle of syrup clutched tightly in the other.

The two settled themselves at the table, stealing glances at the other when they felt they weren’t paying attention.

Booth looked down appreciatively at the plateful of pancakes Brennan had served him. Without tilting his head upwards he looked at her through his lashes and said softly, “Bonne appetite.”

Brennan nodded, placing a hand over her stomach; frantically trying to quieten the butterflies that had taken up residence there and apparently gotten drunk and disorderly.

The partners tucked into the pancakes. Little was spoken between them, save a rapturous exclamation every thirty seconds or so.

Booth made the mistake of staring at his partner as she closed her eyes in enjoyment and licked stray flecks of syrup from around her mouth. His forkful of pancake missed its intended destination entirely and tumbled down onto his shirt.

He jumped and hissed in annoyance, causing Brennan to snap her eyes open and give a little jump herself. Booth gave another little hiss as he removed the offending article of food and discovered a substantial syrup stain left behind.

“It’s your own fault, Booth.”

“How is it my fault?” Did she know what had distracted him?

“If you hadn’t insisted on covering every little bit that went into your mouth with about six pounds of syrup…”

“It was not six pounds…”

“It was close to it.”

Desperate to wipe the smug smile off her face, Booth fired a little piece of pancake at her using his fork. The widened eyes and little ‘o’ of her mouth made it so incredibly worth it. He almost wished he hadn’t been a gentleman and aimed for her plate…it would have been more fun to launch it at her head.

Brennan didn’t share his thoughts on politeness. Before Booth could realise what she was doing, she’d snatched the syrup bottle off the table and had squirted quite a lot of it onto his shirt.

Booth jumped to his feet.

“Bones!”

She looked at him innocently.

“You started it, Booth.”

“I didn’t aim for your…”

She shrugged before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

“Hand must have slipped.”

“Yeah, right.”

Brennan’s response died a rather speedy death when her partner began to unbutton his shirt. Grumbling incoherently, Booth nimbly undid all the buttons and shrugged the fabric off his shoulders.

The butterflies started hyperventilating and falling over at the sight of his toned stomach, defined chest, broad shoulders and overall fit, tanned physique. Brennan herself wasn’t doing much better.

Seemingly unaware that his partner was in danger of a heart attack, Booth began to move towards the bathroom. Of course, Seeley Booth was rarely completely unaware of anything, especially things concerning people’s responses to various situations, so he wasn’t entirely surprised, but was careful to hide the resulting smile, when he heard Brennan shout after him.

“You know, I think I might be warming to this Naked Chef idea.”

saraluvzbonz

Posted 29/05/2008 06:43:03 AM


Oh... this is just too wonderful. Please continue. I love the playfulness.

nane

Posted 29/05/2008 03:15:59 PM


I forgot how funny this was when I read it first.
And I still have the request open for pics...will there be a Naked Chef?.....of course no Mr Oliver!!!!

phoebsfan

Posted 29/05/2008 04:48:08 PM


you know... I think Brennan was rather sillly for outlawing the naked thing. Who wouldn't want him naked in their kitchen? That's nuts.

fanofbones

Posted 29/05/2008 11:56:43 PM


freaking adorable kiks....loved it
god they are so hot even in the kitchen cooking pancakes....
wowza chica...fanfreakintastic....

fab