Crashing Down: A Collection of One-Shots (K+-M)

that was nice.....but also kinda sad, because they lost so much time, that they could have spend together

Mama, sometimes when I read your stories I have to remember to breathe too! That was wonderful.

Aw thank you, guys!!!

Title: "Drinks & Candid Smiles"
Pairing: Max, Brennan
Rating: K+
Spoilers: n/a
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary: This spawned from the giant prompt-fic-writing game. Max Gives Brennan Advice.

Max concentrated, aiming an ace between two loose fingers. The card slipped from his fingers, twirled through the air and landed in a Yankees baseball cap in Brennan's chair.

"Now you try it, honey."

Brennan gave him one of those looks that she had so perfected over the years.

"Oh, c'mon. Humor your old man."

Brennan rose from her seat and walked over to where her father was sitting.

She took the card and flung it. It landed on the cap's bill.

"Nice job."

"You're coddling me."

"I'm your father. It's my job." He laughed airily. Then the look of humor melted into a more serious look. He had been dancing around this conversation all evening. Even Brennan knew it was coming. "You can't let fear run your life, Tempe."

Brennan took another card and examined the red hearts with her thumb before looking up at her father. "This is the part where you compare your stories of heroism in an effort to assuage my own fears."

Max chuckled and slid closer to his daughter. He reached for her hand. Brennan tensed for a moment before letting her father take her hand in his. His own hand being large and wrinkled with age. Hers being much more slender and young.

"I've faced down some nasty stuff in my day."

"Much of which you've brought on yourself, Dad."

"You got me there, honey. You got me there." He thumbed the ring on her finger. The one that had belonged to his wife. "You know what I regret the most?"

"Leaving us?"

"Yeah... But I was gonna say that I wasted time." He took a breath. "I'm an old man now, Tempe."

"Aging is inevitable."

"Just stop with the science talk for a moment and hear me out." It was almost forceful. She was silent. "I met your mother when I was sixteen."

"I... I didn't know that."

"I didn't tell her that I loved her until I was twenty-five." Brennan was silent. She didn't quite understand where her father was going with this. "Had I been braver, I would have had nine years to hold your mother at night. Nine years more, Tempe... But I was a kid. And I didn't know what love was back then--I guess."

"Love is..." She sucked in a deep breath, stilling her argument. "You couldn't know that mom was going to die so young, Dad. There was nothing that you could have done. Holding onto regrets is illogical."

He nodded and stood, releasing her hand. "I should go, honey. Gotta big day with the kids tomorrow. We're making toothpick bridges--testing the strength of different shapes. Best bridge wins." He chuckled good naturedly and pulled his jacket on as he walked to the door.

Brennan followed her father in that direction. He opened the door, then paused and turned toward her. "I love you, honey."

"I--love you, too, Dad."

"Every day is an opportunity, baby. Every day. Don't let it pass you by. That Agent Booth is a good man."

"We're just--"

"I know, I know. It was just an observation. He's a good man."

Brennan smiled. "Yes. He is a very good man."

The door closed, but she looked at it long after her father had gone away. What was her father trying to say? Metaphors were never her strength. She grabbed her jacket from the coat hanger and walked out of her building with only one destination in mind. She had no intention on pouring out her undying love to Booth, but she did know one thing: she wanted to be close to him. Why did it have to be more complicated than that?

She knocked. "It's Bones."

The door opened and the moment he smiled at her, she knew that she wanted it to be more complicated than drinks and candid smiles.

sometimes you just have to love Max.....
I can totally imagien something like this happening on the show.

Mama, I loved them all... What the Morning Brings was my favorite though. So emotional.

I just love stories that imagine how they'll end up getting together! Very nice!!

Thank you all!!!

Prompt: Cam, Nail Polish
Title: "Sex Kitten in Crimson Stilettos"
Pairing: Cam, Hodgins
Rating: K+
Spoilers: n/a
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary: This spawned from the giant prompt-fic-writing game. Cam is a sex kitten beneath all of those mom-of-the-lab duds.

Cam looked around cautiously. The office was empty and everyone in the lab was busy with another dead guy--this one was all Dr. Brennan's, not an inch of flesh on the man.

Covertly, she jumped up and ran to the door. She shut it, drew the blinds, ran back and sunk into her desk chair.

There, she opened her drawer and produced a little red bottle of Sex Kitten in Crimson Stiletto. She slipped her toes out of her black business pump and propped her toe on the edge of the desk.

The scarlet-red paint glided onto each nail.

It was her secret indulgence.

Sexy red nails under business pumps.

And she loved it.

Camille Saroyan was a woman to the bone. Bubble baths, trashy novels, and cherry-red nails. Even when she was playing mom to the squint squad, she could feel sexy in her skin... and in her pumps.

Anything to get out of her daily role. Now she wasn't only Mom in the lab, now she was Mom when she went home at night to Michelle.

The paint represented something... something she would never repeat to Dr. Brennan, that's for sure. It was a renewal of spirit. A painting over of old, cracked, worn paint. A daily dose of feminism.

"Cam?"

She nearly dropped the bottle. It fumbled a bit, but she screwed on the cap quickly and looked up, putting her foot back to the floor. "Yes, Dr. Hodgins?"

He grinned at her, knowingly, half-amused.

"Dr. B wanted me to tell you that Booth called. They're heading out right now. Guess it's juicy enough to bring you along."

"Oh. OK. Let me--" She stood, barefoot and crossed her office.

Hodgins watched amusedly at his barefoot, red-nailed boss. How was it that he had never noticed how cute she was? Maybe he had just been single too long. Maybe it was simply a fact that she was hot in that black skirt, plunging neckline and bare feet?

Cam grabbed her jacket and turned back toward Hodgins. She noticed his staring and looked down at her bare feet. She laughed. "Just don't tell anyone. Something tells me that everyone will have an opinion. Sweets will say something about breaking out of my sociocultural whatever and Brennan will say something about wanting a sexual encounter--" She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes a woman just needs to feel like a WOMAN. Know what I mean?"

Hodgins nodded. "Yeah. Except for the woman part, I can't say I know what it feels like to be a woman--"

They shared a laugh before they were interrupted by Cam's cell phone. She jogged to the desk and picked up her cell, leaning a hip against her desk.

She turned after hanging up. "Guess I'll be changing in the back seat."

"That fast, huh?"

"Guess so. See you in a few hours? Where's Mr. Nigel-Murray?"

"Uh--platform." He was bewildered as she jogged past him, gum boots in one hand, jumpsuit in the other.

He didn't feel the cheesy grin sneaking up on his face as he watched her jog off.

"How long has it been, Jack?"

He didn't even notice Angela beside him until she spoke.

"Uh... H-how long has what been?"

Angela rolled her eyes and began to walk off. She turned and shrugged. "Roses. I think she told me once they're her favorite."

Hodgins stood dumbfounded until Angela had disappeared into her office.

How was it that women could make so little sense one second and so much the next?

Knew you had a soft soft for those two Mama!!

That was fun! Angela can spot it through the walls!!

Oh you know I have a soft spot for H/C!
Title: "More Than You Know"
Pairing: Booth, Brennan
Rating: T/M
Spoilers: Finale Spoiler Theories
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary:

May 14, 2009 - A Thursday Evening

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched for several minutes without saying a word.

She was up to her elbows in flour. She looked up after a second of rolling out home made noodles. "Booth, you're going to spoil it." She wiped her hands on a hand towel and walked over to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he shrugged. "You didn't have to do this, Bones."

"I want to, Booth," she smiled at him with the dish towel in her hands. "You should be resting. Your stitches--"

"Don't hurt."

She tipped her head to one side. "You're five days post-op, Booth; you should be resting. I'll bring you your dinner--home made pasta, and you will rest."

He chuckled, looking over Brennan. When was the last day he had touched her? Really touched her? Even feeling sore like he was, he couldn't keep his eyes off from her. He let his eyes linger. They traced the blouse she wore, showing the tops of her white breasts, flour sprinkling a spot where she must have scratched. A bit of flour splashed her cheek. Damn she was cute. No wonder he couldn't stop thinking of her. No matter how casual they agreed it was, he couldn't help himself. When he was in bed with her, he couldn't convince himself that it was a partners-with-benefits kind of situation. But it hurt knowing that she felt that way.

"What?" She smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the boiling water over high heat.

It had been too long. He stepped closer, brushing two fingers against her cheek.

"Do I have flour--?" She looked herself over, glancing down, then back up. When her eyes flashed upward, they settled on his. He stood closer now.

He let his fingers brush over her breasts, dusting away the flour.

A simple touch, and her body shook, tingled, blushed.

"Did you want to have sex?" She asked. So matter-of-fact.

His grin melted. His hand dropped to his side, but he didn't back away. "Probably not, Bones--"

"Because we agreed to not do it again? Or perhaps you're too sore? I could be gentle if you like."

He laughed, shaking his head and stepped back some, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

"I could be on top if it puts less pressure on your--"

He pushed off from the counter. "Thanks for being in the O.R. with me, Bones."

That's when her eyes faltered, dropping to the ground for a few seconds before bobbing back up. "That's what partners are for."

"No, Bones. It's not that..." Sometimes he hated that he had to tiptoe around her, around his emotions. But just one more touch-- It was a vacuum he had found himself in. Always swearing that it was the last time. At least until she could love him back or at least he could tell her how he felt. But the whole thought of ceasing their time together until something that may never come came-- The whole thought was too painful. He was invading her space again, touching her cheek. Powder white flour in her hair.

The wooden rolling pin that was in her hand dropped to the floor with a clink-clink-kaclink as he reached out and untied her apron strings. He tried for a moment. He really tried to see her the way she wanted to be seen when they were together. A woman. Sexual. A body to be taken any way he wanted. Hard. Fast. In the hallway or kitchen. Living room or shower after a few drinks. For pleasure. For recreation. For fun. Because he did want her. He wanted her body. He wanted to sink into her, slide into her, feel her body ache against his. Feel her fingers dig into his back as she climaxed. So yes, if that was the way she wanted to be taken and if that was the only way he could have her, then that was how it was going to be. Just as long as he could shut off his heart.

He pulled her apron over her head, throwing it to the tile. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her mouth against his, her tongue twist in his mouth. But something was special about a kiss. And she wasn't ready to give him that part of her. Their lips bounced against an invisible negative field, not touching. He kissed her cheek, her neck.

"Are you sure about this, Booth?"

He unbuttoned her top, laying kisses on the cleavage that had been tempting him all evening. Soft and slightly smelling of that perfume that drove him nuts--vanilla, orchid. Sweet, mind-numbing. Which was exactly what he needed. A numb mind. Putting his heart in a box. Shutting the lid. Hiding it in a shallow grave so he didn't hate himself for touching her, indulging in his strongest desires. His kisses on her neck and breasts were like small attacks, taking in her body, the taste, the feel. Her body limp in his hands. He took it all in as if it were his last chance. It was always his last chance. Every time he swore he'd never touch her again. Not that she didn't care. She craved him as much as he craved her. But he wanted more. At the same time, he couldn't bring his hands to stop unbuttoning her slacks and sliding them lower on her hips, threading his fingers through the lace of her thong panties, up and beneath her bra.

He loved that he could make her do something. And he hated himself for it. Getting pleasure from making her melt under his touch, moan at his movements, as he rocked his hips against hers. Dr. Brennan who was always in control was never in control when she was with him. It was a new side of her. A delicious side of her. Something he wanted more of but could never get enough.

They stumbled toward his bedroom, kicking off shoes and other garments as they made their way, half dazed, half drunk with lust and ecstasy and a strong hunger to touch and be touched.

How long could he pretend? Just as long as she could. But he needed her. Her caress. Her body, warm, soft, smooth against his. She carefully removed his tee-shirt. He kissed her neck, letting his mouth linger against the sweet untainted skin. His tongue tasted its smoothness, its softness. She lost her balance, falling to her bottom on his unmade black satin sheets. He yearned to feel her, what it felt for her to give herself to him. It was selfish, he knew this, but he also knew that this was probably as good as it gets.

And how could he complain? After all, his partner was naked, laying in his bed, cheek kissed by flour, lips untouched by him. Waiting for him. He could have her body, but he could not have her heart. But how could he complain? He would be a selfish bastard if he were to even suggest that he was unlucky. The woman he was so madly in love with was with him. For now. But she was with him all the same.

Sometimes he fought that feeling. A feeling of being a predator, or of being one of those men who he had always despised. Those men who would have sex without any connections. Those men who Brennan said, "It's just sex" when she spoke about her encounters with him. Of course he felt that way. He was that man. And to her, it was just sex.

But maybe his partner was right. Maybe it was all about anthropology and biology and all of those 'ologies. He couldn't help himself. She let him touch her. She let him make love to her. She was a drug. A drug whose legs were wrapped around him at that moment, her heavy breaths in his ear, a soft grunting when he thrust into her. She enjoyed it. He enjoyed it. But it was so divergent. He felt dirty, but pleased. He felt sorry, but wonderfully exhausted.

Their bodies worked so perfectly together. No wonder she was so addicting. She always seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed without speaking a word. Same with him; she had said on many occasions that she had never felt such satisfying and consistent orgasms than when she was with him. That was a compliment, right?

A better compliment would be for her to let him hold her after he had made love to her... let him whisper that he loved her... let him kiss her tenderly. That would be a compliment.

Every time ended a little differently, but with the same tone.

She was breathless. "You shouldn't have been so... vigorous, Booth. You could have strained yourself."

"I'm fine, Bones." He hovered over her, sweat beading between his shoulder blades, muscles bulging from the exertion. He didn't quite want to just 'roll off from her'. He wanted to stay there. Look at her. So relaxed, her hair fanning out, curling softly here and there, eyes sparkling from the exercise--gorgeous, sexy. If only he could freeze that moment.

She reached around and touched the bandaging.

He winced, sucking air through his teeth, closing his eyes.

"Sorry."

He sat up, not caring to cover himself. They were beyond that. Beyond feeling embarrassed when they were around one another. And yet she never ceased to amaze him with her beauty. He couldn't imagine being with her ever getting old.

She sat up, too, kneeling beside him and inspecting the bandage.

"Bones--"

"Just let me see, Booth."

"You deal with corpses, Bones. I can't see how you could know anything about this."

"Just let me see it."

He gritted his teeth and turned just enough for her to see.

She had to straddle one of his legs to see the bandage. "It looks terrible, Booth. I think you may have pulled a few stitches out. Does it hurt?"

Does it hurt? Does what hurt? "More than you know, Bones." His fingers itched to touch the leg that was so close... He slid his hand up her thigh. God she was soft, smooth.

She wiggled a bit under his touch. "Stop, Booth," she ordered him.

His hand wandered more. So many of their encounters had been spur of the moment. Sometimes they were drunken libidinous attacks. That happened more times than most. Sometimes they were just in such close quarters--a mobile home at a Panhandle circus, for example, or a dressing room at an ice rink, that things were bound to happen. Things that he said he wouldn't feel guilty for, but it was a natural by-product of their times together. Sex shouldn't be just about sex. And yet, there he was, going against everything he had ever stood for. So he could be with her.

He twisted her body gently, throwing her back into the sheets.

She must have been shocked by that quick movement because she didn't say a thing.

"You're beautiful, Bones." He could feel his heart thudding against his sternum as he held his body weight over her on tensed arms.

She didn't say anything. She looked afraid. Maybe she knew more about the human species than she let on. She could see it in his face and he knew it.

She silently nodded. Then looked back into his eyes. "You..." She tried to find the right question. Something that would tell her what she needed to know without insulting his pride, or hurting him. But she had wanted to ask on several occasions. But that look in his eyes--it both frightened her and emboldened her. "You made love to me, didn' t you?"

He didn't answer.

The fact that he didn't answer was scarier than if he had replied that he had been making love to her. All along, she was confident that he was on board with the sexual agreement they had. She should have known better.

She slipped beneath his arm and slid her slacks and top back on as quickly as she could.

"Bones, what are you doin'?"

"I think it's time to go, Booth. Dinner's ready, help yourself."

"You haven't eaten."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm not hungry." And left the room.

Booth tumbled out of bed, throwing on his boxers. He flew out of the bedroom, blocking the door before Brennan could leave.

"I would like to leave, Booth. You're in my way."

"Why are you leaving, Bones?"

"Because I have the right to." She looked at the door, then back at him. "Could you move, please?"

"You're pissed."

"I'm not."

"You are. And I think I know why."

"I'm not mad, Booth."

"But you're leaving."

"Because I have work to do. Please move."

They stared one another down in silence for a minute or more. Neither one relented. Neither one moved. Nobody had to say a word, all was said in their looks.

"Fine, Bones. Have it your way." He moved his hand from the door.

"Thank you." She pushed past him and into the hallway. The door shut softly behind her.

Booth stood there for a moment. His pride kept his feet from moving. Finally, he ran out into the hallway.

"Bones, what if I--?"

She froze and turned slowly to face him once again.

"What if I told you--" He noticed her body tense. Her cheeks grew hot. A sudden realization. Nothing is worse than having someone not return your love. "I'll--I'll see you Monday, Bones."

Her eyes dropped. Did she look, for that fraction of a second as if she was going to cry? She looked back up. That same look of defiance and Brennan-like confidence. "Good-night, Booth."

He watched her until her shadow disappeared on the stair well.

Prompt: Cam/Booth Last Dance

Title: "Last Dance"
Pairing: Booth, Cam
Rating: K+
Spoilers:n/a
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary: This spawned from the giant prompt-fic-writing game. Season 2 finale, Stargazer in a Puddle. Cam and Booth have their last dance.

The music was a torrent, flooding and twisting through the auditorium.

Booth watched from his vantage point with a look of amusement and disgust. Squints should never dance. And Zack had absolutely no rhythm. He held back the urge to run over there and beg him to stop. At least Brennan wasn't that bad of a dancer. She boogied beside him in her purple maid-of-honor dress.

The bride and groom? Probably in Mexico by then. Or some random island country drinking fruity beverages from pink-tinted glasses.

"What's that?"

Booth turned to face Cam. He was bewildered at first, before he looked at the envelope in his hand. "Uh, Zack gave it to me."

"A poetically written love letter, I assume?"

He chuckled. "Nice. No, Cam. It's a letter asking him to go to Iraq."

"Oh." She shook her head and leaned on the barrier, her elbows on the rail, fingers dangling, matching his posture. "Dr. Brennan's not gonna like this."

"Bones will be alright."

Cam laughed. "I feel like I should be treating him for a seizure or something."

Booth laughed. He looked over at her. She looked lovely in that dress, her dark hair pulled up. "You look great, Camille."

She looked down at her stilettos. "Yeah, well I have a blister the size of Ontario on my heel. Hurts like hell."

"Take 'em off."

It was a simple suggestion. But he could feel the heat spreading through his face. She blushed, too.

"Uh... good idea." She slid out of her heels.

He looked down and whistled, impressed by the size of the lesion. "That's just freaky, Cam."

She laughed at him. The music changed.

"Let's have the bride and groom share their first dance tonight as man and wife," the DJ announced. There was a buzz of confused talk before someone ran onto the stage and whispered in his ear. "Well, let's just dedicate this one to all of the lovebirds."

Zack held out his hand stiffly. Brennan held his hand, their free hands on the each other's backs.

"That's romance," Booth laughed. "They look like--"

"Robots," Cam finished. They laughed. "I'm letting you tell Dr. Brennan by the way."

"About what?"

She nodded at Zack. "He's like a brother to her. She's going to be heart broken."

"What? Bones? No. Bones' heart doesn't break."

"She's a human, Booth."

"She's all sciencey."

"That doesn't diminish the fact that she loves him."

He sighed. "Chances are that Bones will find a way to hate me if I tell her. The messenger always gets shot."

"Fine. I'll tell Dr. Brennan and she'll just go on hating me. Nothing will change. No skin off my back."

Booth looked at her. "Bones doesn't hate you."

"She doesn't care for me, either."

"She'll warm up to you, Cam. She just takes a while to warm up to people."

"Like she's warmed up to you?" He nodded. "And yet you're afraid to tell her about Zack."

He sighed. "Got me there, Cam. You always could back me up against a wall."

"Figuratively speaking."

He pushed off from the railing and held out his hand to her. "Figuratively speaking."

She laid her hand in his and he walked her down the stairs and onto the dance floor.

"Let's show 'em how it's done." He spun her out and back into his arms, laying a hand on her back and holding her close to him.

"Exes don't dance like this, Seeley."

"Friends do, Cam." He smiled at her.

"One last dance, then."

"Too late." He dipped her, holding her low. "We're already dancing." He lifted her to her feet and their bodies melded into the crowd. Some danced stiffly like middle-school lovers. Others showed off their "sprinkler" moves to their bosses. But they held each other closer than usual, knowing that it was truly the last time they would dance down that road.

How could More Than You Know end like that?! It was so sad. I loved it though. So emotional.

Thank you so much!!!! ANGST! =)

I can't even read the next one until I let More Than You Know settle in on me. And here I sit not even having any words to say.

I guess it's good to know it had an effect on someone... an emotional effect. That's kind of a good goal for a writer.

ForensicMama wrote:I guess it's good to know it had an effect on someone... an emotional effect. That's kind of a good goal for a writer.

Mama, you do it with great regularity! And I fear you do it with great ease!

DBCrazy wrote:

ForensicMama wrote:I guess it's good to know it had an effect on someone... an emotional effect. That's kind of a good goal for a writer.

Mama, you do it with great regularity! And I fear you do it with great ease!

LOL =) I'm so glad that you loved this story!!!! It really makes me feel fabulous knowing that someone loved it!

"He dipped her, holding her low." - just like he did with Bones when he showed her the local competition! You need to write one about Booth learning to dance, since this is obviously one of his signature moves!!

Very nice!

LOL... that would be fun. xD

Title: "Guy Hugs"
Pairing: Booth, Brennan, Sweets
Rating: K+ (Keeping down the rating on this one.)
Spoilers: S4: Mayhem on the Cross & Cinderella in the Cardboard
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary: Just look at the icon.


"Mental illness is a legal status. To plead insanity, Barbara Cunningham has to undergo a mental examination." Sweets set his tea cup down next to a half-eaten tuna sandwich and an untouched pickle spear.

Brennan made a face before drinking her coffee.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's simply that I'm not too sure how accurate a plea of insanity can be."

"Right. Because psychiatry is a soft science and all that."

"All that what?"

"It's a phrase, Dr. Brennan. I was undermining your faulty assertion that psychology is somehow substandard..."

Stabbing at lettuce, she murmured, "Still a soft science." She was not too shy to eye-ball him as she spoke those words.

"The idea is obviously beyond your ken." Maybe it was a bit of a challenge. He hid a smirk behind whole wheat bread.

She huffed, "It's not beyond my ken, Dr. Sweets. I simply don't want to waste my time learning about psychology. My time is better spent studying an accurate science. If I wanted to, I could make it within my understanding."

They were silent for a while. Sweets was silently brooding. It didn't take him long to realize how pointless that particular endeavor was. "Hey. Thanks for... you know. Last night."

"Dinner? It wasn't my idea."

"I was actually referring to Agent Booth and you sharing stories from your pasts. It was... cool."

"Cool?" Ice-blue eyes widened a smidgen.

"Awesome. Sweet... More-- phrases."

"I know they're phrases, I just thought you were more intelligent than to use such sophomoric language."

"I'm twenty-four. I'm bound to--You know what? This is good tea." A change of direction. That's what they needed.

"Booth hates tea. I think he thinks it's effeminate."

Sweets' lips pursed. He pushed away the mug. There's no winning with this woman!

Brennan sipped her coffee, then pushed it to the middle of the table near Sweets' teacup. "There's something I need to say to you."

"I kind of got that when you asked me out to lunch. Alone. Without Agent Booth. Where is Agent Booth, by the way?"

"He went home for lunch. But my reason for asking you to lunch has to do with a few weeks ago. I've been meaning to apologize properly, but... I hadn't yet decided whether a formal atmosphere or an informal, more personal atmosphere would be more appropriate. I consulted with Angela and she agreed that lunch at the Diner would be more than adequate."

Sweets smiled at her with a somewhat amused expression on his lips. "What are you getting at, Dr. Brennan?"

"Do you remember when I... led you to believe that Daisy was using you to cheat on her fiance?"

Sweets chuckled. "Forget? How could I?"

"So you do remember?"

"I remember. Yeah."

She cleared her throat and prepared to say what she had been planning for nearly three weeks. "I apologize, Sweets. Although my intentions were benignant, I've come to see that I should have followed Booth's advice and said nothing. I caused you unnecessary pain." Sweets could see that she really did seem honestly apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Sweets' cheek dimpled as he gave her a sideways grin. "Hey, it's--it's OK."

"No, it's not. I hurt you, Sweets. I am truly very sorry."

"I can see that, Dr. Brennan. If it--if it makes you feel any better, it really made for some great make-up sex."

Where any normal human being would have given Sweets a disgusted or shocked look, Brennan shrugged. "I can imagine that make-up sex is quite enjoyable. I've never personally had make-up sex--"

"Never?" Sweets couldn't believe he was actually getting Brennan to open up about something personal. WIN.

"Well--as it turns out, whenever I've fought with a boyfriend or a lover, it has never really ended in reconciliation." Although she stated this fact as coldly as she could, Sweets could tell that it was painful for her--just as the time when she told Booth and him about the pain of a break-up.

"You know... if someone isn't willing to fight for you, then they're just not worth it."

"You sound like Booth."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well... Guy talks and stuff. Turns out Booth gives some pretty good advice..."

"Booth does give excellent advice." She took a bite of a strawberry. "What advice did he give you?"

"Ah... Just some advice on Daisy."

"Do you... have a direct quote or a paraphrase?"

"Um. He said that I should confront Daisy."

"Which ultimately led to the post-quarrel sex."

"Yeah." He looked pretty proud of that particular memory.

"Then what?"

"Uh--Then What? I--I tried to give him a hug, but I dunno... apparently guys don't hug, so he slugged me in the arm--still kinda hurts. You know, my dad was a hugger. I think if I could just open Booth up to the possibility of physical displays--"

"Wait. He didn't hug you?"

"Yeah. Usually he's pretty perceptive to bodily language, but he made it quite clear that guys don't hug things out. He just--WHACK--I think I bruised a bit."

Brennan was quiet for a second. She stood quickly. "Could you pay, Sweets?"

Sweets looked up at Brennan as she threw on her jacket. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go."

He turned in his chair and watched as Brennan ran out of the diner.

"Always in the dark..." He shook his head and turned around just as his cell phone rang. He answered it. "Daisy?"

***

"Booth! It's Bones. Booth?"

"Just wait a second." He made it to the door with a sandwich in one hand. "Hey, I was just--" The look on her face made him freeze. "Bones?" She grabbed the sandwich and flung it to the side. "Hey, what was-- I was eating that--"

She entered his apartment, closing the door behind her. She stood, arms akimbo with an unreadable expression on her face. "Guy hugs?"

"Uh... What--what's going on, Bones?"

"You told Sweets that guys don't hug."

"Guys don't-- Oh."

"Exactly. So was it just a misnomer or was it an attempt at changing our proximity--? I don't understand, Booth."

"Bones..."

"The truth, Booth."

"The truth?"

She nodded.

Almost a minute passed before he decided on the right words.

"Sometimes... I just want to be close to you. Physically."

She didn't reply. She looked... angry?

"Bones..."

"How much time do we have left of lunch?"

He looked at his watch. "Uh. Twenty minutes. Why?"

"That's more than enough time. Think you can be fast?" She grabbed his hand and began to walk towards his bedroom.

"Whhhhat?"

They stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and kissed him deeply. It didn't take him long to get the message. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her tighter against his body.

Forty minutes later, Cam was looking at her watch. "Angela, do you know where Dr. Brennan is?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

haha...that one fits with your signature...nooner

LOL You're so right!!!!

In all honesty, not a lot of my guy friends hug either... lol Loved it, mama