Disclaimer - Bones and its lovely characters belong to someone else.

A/N - It's the start of the Rugby World Cup today and I thought I'd write a (very short) extension to an old story of mine - Scrum V (it will make more sense if you read that first!)


"Hands away!" The referee yelled as a crunching tackle buried Booth under a pile of bodies.

Given that he couldn't breathe, there was no way he could release the ball. He was dully aware of a whistle and then, slowly, the crushing weight lessened as the pile of players stood up.

Booth rolled onto his back wincing at the stabbing pain in the hip that he'd injured earlier in the day. Blinking up at the puffy clouds which dotted the sky, he grabbed hold of the proffered hand of one of his opponents who hauled him to his feet. There were only a few minutes left of the match, but Booth could feel every second of the three games he'd played in each bone and muscle in his body.

As he jogged slowly towards his own 22 and sought Temperance in the crowd.

She was hanging on the rope barrier again, watching him, a concerned frown marring her perfect forehead. He raised a weary hand in acknowledgement and gave a half hearted grin, which widened into a genuine smile at the way her eyes lit up for him.

Angela and the other squints were sat on the grass. Hodgins had demonstrated a surprising knowledge of rugby and had taken Angela's initiation into the mysteries of the game as his personal mission for the day. Booth shook his head slightly, deciding that pointing out details of each phase of play had just been an excuse for Hodgins to put an arm around the artist's shoulders; not that Angela seemed to mind.

Booth's attention was brought back to the game as the other team miss-kicked and the ball came flying from hand to hand along the line of Exiles' backs as they ran forwards. Suddenly Booth had the ball in hand once more, with an overlap. He powered through one half-hearted tackle, stumbling slightly, before getting back his balance and running on along the touchline. A glance to his left showed he was the last man in the line, and he shifted into a flat out sprint.


At the side of the pitch Temperance was yelling him on, Angela hanging onto her arm. Even Zach was on his feet and shouting.

15 metres and Booth side-stepped one tackler.

10 metres and another missed tackle, his opponent left grasping the air behind his heels.

5 metres and Booth angled towards the posts.

Two seconds later he was sliding along the ground, ball planted squarely under the uprights.

Temperance found herself in a strange four-way hug with her colleagues, all grinning like lunatics and hoarse from yelling.

As they turned back to the game, they saw the conversion sail through the posts, it rolled along the ground before the referee blew for full time.

This time there was no hesitation, Temperance vaulted the rope and ran towards the trudging figure of her partner.

Her arms were round him, dotting his face with kisses as he looked at her in bemusement.

"You won! That means you made it to the quarter finals tomorrow." Temperance exclaimed in excitement, before stepping back and examining the bruises on his face, a bloody scratch on his forearm and reddened, swollen bump above his right knee.

Booth watched, with a tired smile, as she catalogued his injuries, before brushing his fingers along her cheek and then pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and heard her sigh as she settled her arms around his waist.

His lips trailed kisses towards her ear and then he whispered, "It's going to take some very personal care and attention to get me in a condition to play tomorrow."

Temperance looked up at him earnestly, "I know a bit about sports massage, physiology, you know..." She trailed off as she saw the look in Booth's eyes. He didn't say anything, but his heated gaze and the possessive way he held her told her exactly what sort of attention he wanted. Her breath caught and her eyes widened for a moment and then she tilted her head on one side, "Are you sure that you're up to that?"

"Up to what?" He replied, his lips curving into a dangerous smile as he bent down to kiss her.

"That." She muttered as his lips claimed hers.