A/N: Yes, I know it’s been awhile. Sorry.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Booth was surprised by his partner’s words. He’d practically had to drag her onto the Ferris wheel, and all during the ride she’d been quiet. Now they were stuck at the top, the ride over, waiting for the other passengers to get off.

He nodded. “It is.”

The day had been hot, but like all late-spring nights there was nip in the air and Temperance wore Booth’s sweater draped over her shoulders. She hadn’t wanted that either, but Booth could be very persistent. After all, how else would she have ended up on a Ferris wheel wearing a man’s sweater? And on a weeknight no less.

Booth eyed the ground below them. The night was dark, the type of blackness that you worry you might have to claw your way through just to get to the other side, but lights from other rides still glittered and he could see vague outlines of people holding cotton candy and corndogs. Even up here he could smell the greasy, fried yumminess from the grills.

Suddenly worried by the thick darkness, he quickly looked over to make sure Temperance was still beside him. She smiled and pointed out a few small fireworks going off in someone’s driveway a couple blocks away. Booth was suddenly superbly pleased with himself for suggesting they spend Memorial Day together. Sure, finding this small-town fair had taken a ton of Googling during work hours and the driven had been plenty long with gas prices so high, but this was definitely worth it.

He was just about to ask her when the last time she went to a fair was when the Ferris wheel lurched backwards.

Temperance’s hand shot out and grabbed his. She held on tightly, her nails digging into his skin and leaving angry red crescent-shaped marks for him to find later.

“Geez, Bones. Jumpy much?”

Forcing out a nervous laugh, she released his hand. Booth flexed his fingers, reassuring himself that none were broken. With a sideways glance at his partner, he wondered if she was afraid of heights.

His throbbing fingers egging him on, Booth began to swing his legs back and forth. The seat creaked ominously.

“Booth, stop,” Temperance said.

He pumped his legs harder and the seat began to rock. Temperance clutched the armrest.

“Booth.” Her voice carried a lilt of fear. If he hadn’t known her as well as he did he wouldn’t have heard it.

He stopped and watched her. Slowly she relaxed and loosened her grip on the armrest. She met his eye and stared steadily back. He cocked an eyebrow and even the nearly tangible darkness couldn’t mask the flush creeping up her cheeks. Her gaze faltered and she found herself examining her fingers, which were suddenly very interesting.

“Bones,” he whispered softly.

She looked up. It was one of those moments where any normal man would have kissed any normal woman. But of course, though he was a normal man, she was not a normal woman.

When finally their feet were firmly planted on the ground, Booth’s arm snaked around Temperance, his hand resting on the small of her back. He pulled her closer and for once she didn’t resist.

“I’m hungry,” she announced after Booth tried to win her a stuffed animal at several different carnival games. It was only when she found an anthropological reason for him to want to win her something—an explanation in which the words ‘male’ and ‘dominance’ were used many times in rapid succession—did he give up.

He soon found that she wasn’t lying when she said she was hungry. She was like a bear going into hibernation or a linebacker after a football game. He couldn’t decide which was hungrier but whichever was described his partner perfectly.

They sat at a picnic table, a feast spread out in front of Temperance. She’d already made her way through a limp hamburger so greasy that it actually slipped out of her hands and onto the table not once but twice. The fries that came with the burger were also gone and she was now gnawing on a grilled ear of corn. Booth sipped his beer quietly, watching her carefully. He’d bet her that she couldn’t finish all the food she’d bought; he had his eye on the funnel cake she was saving for dessert. The combination of fat and powder sugar was soaking the paper plate it sat on, but the possibility of a heart attack couldn’t keep him from a funnel cake, especially one with a four inch mountain of powder sugar on top.

“Don’t even think about it,” Temperance warned, her lips moist with butter from the corn.

Booth rolled his eyes and went off in search of another beer. When he returned she was gingerly picking her dessert apart with the same delicate fingers that had nearly ripped his hand off earlier. A red cherry he hadn’t even seen under all the sugar rested on the side of her plate.

“You’re not gonna eat that?” he asked, scandalized.

She shook her head, white powder sticking to the butter on her lips.

Booth snatched up the candied cherry and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm…”

Temperance looked up and snorted at the look of satisfaction on his face, sending powder sugar everywhere. Booth’s black shirt was caught in the line of fire.

When the funnel cake was gone, Temperance sighed and sat back. “I win.”

“Win what?”

“The bet.”

Booth groaned. “We never even agreed on terms.”

Temperance thought this through. “If you win, I’ll make you dinner. If I win, I get to drive home.” She quickly grabbed his hand off the table and shook it.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he laughed, finishing his beer.

Temperance crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.

“Okay, fine,” Booth caved. “But you didn’t win.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

Booth leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his face inches from hers. “No. You didn’t.”

She glanced around, searching for some forgotten scrap of food to stuff into her mouth.

“I ate the cherry.”

Temperance opened her mouth to speak and closed it right away.

Booth smirked. He knew she’d only eaten as much as she had to prove him wrong and could almost see the gears in her head grinding to figure out a way to get around this little dilemma.

“How ‘bout this,” he held out the keys to her. “You drive tonight. Tomorrow I come over and you make some of that mac for me.”

She snatched the keys before he had to chance to think twice.

“Well, let’s go then,” he said, standing up.

After all, he still had a stuffed animal to win.

A/N: Isn’t it great to have someone around to eat unwanted cherries? :D