A/N: Anyone besides my bff SSJL chomping at the bit for an update to this? I hope the extra-long chapter appeases you guys a little! wishing for extra-long reviews… Ahem. Sorry. :) I'm fairly certain this is going to be the last chapter for Intoxicated, but I do promise to wrap it up with a smutty little bow. And… hey! GET BACK HERE, Gayle! I see you skipping ahead to the smut. You too, Jaed. Now sit down and read the fluff first. ;)

Dedi for my bff and my sistah, the ridiculously talented JL. Lurve you like Bren lurves breakfast with Booth!

By the way, anyone reading Nekkidboothinc's Happy Holidays series? Damn, those girls are talented. And modest, from what I hear. Probably you should go check it out if you haven't yet. They're in my faves list. ;) XOXO, Kins

Seeley Booth wanted to invent a new word for beautiful. Something stronger. More meaningful. Because when he saw Bones step out of the bathroom after her shower, scrubbed pink and clean, and in that damned "sleep with an FBI agent" tee shirt, everything he felt transcended a little word like beautiful.

Never mind sexy. Because unless she kept a spare arsenal of underwear in her bathroom, the panties dangling from her hand were a sure sign that she wasn't wearing any on her ass.

"Tease!" he called.

"Seriously, Booth," she half-shouted back from behind her partially closed bedroom door, "do you think I, of all people, have the capability to tease?"

"Is the pope Catholic?" he shouted back.

She poked her head around the door and shot him a confused look. "Booth, you know that the…oh," she grinned sheepishly. "Rhetorical question."

"Yes, Bones. Now go put some clothes on before I come in there and make us incredibly late for breakfast."

He really liked this. He didn't even know what "this" was, but whatever it was… damn. He could get used to it. As he waited for Bones to emerge from her bedroom (hopefully with pants on this time, or they really were going to be late for breakfast) he wandered around her living room, taking time to examine artifacts from her life that he hadn't really paid attention to before. He'd been in her apartment a scant few times, and at least one of them he had been far too busy getting blown up by her homicidal Frigidaire to really notice the things around him. The first thing he picked up was a framed shot from Christmas Eve of Bones with her brother's step-daughters. "Auntie Temperance" had an arm wrapped around each girl and all three of them wore bright smiles. Seeley smiled back at the picture and set it back down on the bookshelf.

The next item he chose to examine was a photo taken on the sly from the same night, of Brennan and her father. The bright orange of Max's prison jumpsuit leaped out from the photo, but still could not detract from the beauty of Bones relaxed, eyes closed, with her head on her dad's shoulder. No matter how much she proclaimed her hatred for his actions, there wasn't a doubt in Booth's mind that she was a daddy's girl, through and through. Max's left arm was wrapped protectively around his daughter and he held the index finger of his right hand against his lips in a shushing motion. The teasing gleam in his blue eyes matched the fiery one Booth knew to exist in Brennan's when they were open.

"I'm almost ready!" Brennan called.

"Take your time, Bones. I'm only starving. Haven't quite reached famished yet."

"Sorry!" she hollered back guiltily.

Seeley chuckled under his breath as he moved on to another photo. This one nearly stole the air from his lungs: it was a shot of the backs of two heads leaned together in comfort. Even though he couldn't see the faces, he knew exactly who they belonged to; it was a picture of him and Bones (no doubt snapped by Angela) from two Christmases ago. Booth remembered the moment like it had happened yesterday, but had no idea anyone had captured it on film. He had been so bummed at only being able to see Parker through the sliding plate-glass doors at the Jeffersonian after "Moe and Curly Squint" had gotten them all quarantined to lock-down on Christmas Eve. He'd trudged up to the lounge to find Bones waiting for on the couch with a huge ceramic mug of hot chocolate. She'd asked if he was okay and he'd of course played the tough guy card and said he was fine. But she'd never know how much it meant to him that she was there. He'd dropped down next to her on the couch and they'd just sat in companionable silence for awhile. He'd wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she'd stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed into his side. People might say Bones lacked social skills, but she'd always been able to read him like a book. She knew him. She'd known he needed comfort that night. Hell, she was probably reading his mind right now. No one got him like she did. And for some reason, when he thought about that, it scared the hell out of him.

"Ready!" the object of his thoughts stepped into the living room, looking… whatever that word was that he was going to invent. Her long sable hair was pulled back in a clip and she wore light blue jeans and a turquoise and brown striped sweater. In one hand she carried brown slip-on shoes, in the other a pair of turquoise and brown striped socks.

"Nice socks," he teased.

"Learned from the master," she retorted good-naturedly. She flopped down on the couch and quickly pulled on her socks and shoes. "Ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are," he answered.

"You okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"You just seem… never mind. I'm sure it's just me."

You can say that again.

Forty-five minutes later, they were waiting on their food at a small Irish restaurant in downtown DC that specialized in Sunday morning breakfast. This, of course, included free refills on mimosas. Of which Booth had already had four and was working on his fifth. And the champagne was definitely going straight to his head.

"I invented a new word," he informed his partner.

"Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and taking a slow sip of her Irish coffee.

"Mhm. Well. I wantto."

"Youwant to invent a new word."

"Yup," he answered, nodding gleefully.

Dammit. He's drunk. There goes the 'feeling me up to my heart's content.'

"And this word is…"

"An adjective. I think. Or a noun."

"Okay. And the word itself is…"

"I haven't decided yet, Bones. But it needs to be better than beautiful."

"More beautiful."

"No. It needs to be better than the word beautiful."

"You want to replace the word beautiful. Booth, there are several words that work as synonyms to beautiful."

"No, Bones. I want something more… better… higher…"

"Something more descriptive than beautiful?"

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, as if she had managed to teach sign language to a three-toed sloth. Which, in a way, she felt like she had.

"And what made you decide to invent this new word?"

"You," he grinned foolishly.


"Mhm. You're so… well, I'd say beautiful, but that's why I want to invent the new word, Bones. You're better than beautiful."

Brennan had never been one for drunken come-ons, but as far as they went, that was a pretty good one. And the fact that he'd started thinking about it before he started drinking… well, call her silly, but that meant something.

"Thanks," she smiled. She started to comment further, but they were interrupted by their food-bearing waitress.

Booth was relieved to see their waitress. He needed another drink. He'd never been so damn nervous in his entire life. He'd also never been one to let his "battleship mouth override his rowboat ass" as his commanding officer in the army used to say. But here he was, making all these promises to Bones, totally terrified of the idea of following through. She wasn't like the other women he'd dated. She was… Bones. His Bones. She was… the word. The one that transcended beautiful. And he had no idea what to do about it.

Brennan wasn't known for being one of those women. The ones who played games with men. Coy was not something she did well, and things she didn't do well made her a little nervous (not that she'd ever admit it). But with Booth… she just felt so relaxed. She was rarely nervous around him. If she didn't count her initial reaction to him that morning, anyway. And if she was going to keep him from slamming back the champagne and OJ until he was too intoxicated to function, she was going to have to distract the hell out of him. Judging by their exchange when she got out of the shower, she was pretty sure how she could do it.

Slipping her left shoe off surreptitiously under the table, she ran her foot up the inside of Booth's pant leg. "So. This word. Is it close to beautiful?" she asked quietly.

Holy Shit. Was she trying to kill him? Because tempting him when he was nine-tenths of the way to drunk would probably work. Booth was having a hard time focusing on the question that had come out of Brennan's mouth when she had her foot inside the leg of his jeans and she was dragging her toes up and down his calf. What in the hell had she said? Should he just answer yes? He would say yes to pretty much anything she wanted right now. He tried it. "Mhm."

"Something like… sexy, maybe?"

Sex? Yes. Definitely. Please. Right now. Want to go home? Or, to the Tahoe? Or, the bathroom maybe? God. She was going to be the death of him for sure. He was going to have to distract her.

"These are awesome pancakes, Bones. Here. Try them," he offered, practically flinging his fork in her face. He had the fine motor skills of a… well, a drunk.

Bones opened her mouth obediently, his one-track mind going instantly to an image of himself putting something much different than a fork-load of pancakes in her mouth. Note to self: feeding her was not going to help. It might distract her little twinkle toes from heading for the promised land, but it sure as hell wasn't calming him down when she licked her bottom lip like that.

"Booth?" she questioned innocently.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"What?!"he was sure he'd misheard her.

"The bite, Booth. Of pancake? Can I have it?"

"Oh, um, sure," he replied, trying to clear the fog from his over-mimosaed brain. He slipped the fork gently past her lips and she closed her mouth around it. He pulled the fork back as her eyes slid shut and she groaned.

"You're right," she said, eyes still closed in ecstasy. "That wasamazing."

The imagery of her repeating that phrase about a different activity (that actually sounded remarkably similar to fork) sent his head back into the clouds. Distracting her was obviously not something he was excelling at.

"Do you want to try mine?" she motioned with her fork to the Belgian waffle on her plate. With its piles upon piles of strawberries and whipped cream. Strawberries. Whipped cream. Boy, today just wasn't his day. But for the life of him, he couldn't bear to turn her down.

"Yes," he responded vehemently. Okay, now you're just being a masochist.Noooo, I'm distracting her. Big difference.

Brennan held the forkful of waffle-y goodness up to his lips and he opened his mouth obediently. When she shoveled the food in, he closed his lips around it and sucked the fork dry. She swallowed hard and he could have sworn her face went a little pale. "Good?" she asked.

"The best."

"You've got a little…" she trailed off, touching her thumb to the left corner of her mouth.

He purposely went for the left corner of his mouth; even though he was pretty sure he was supposed to be mirroring her. "Did I get it?"

"Uh, no," she said. She licked her lips slowly and reached across the table to wipe the whipped cream from his face.

When Brennan went to wipe the whipped cream from the corner of Booth's mouth and his tongue darted out the side to lick the pad of her thumb gently, she very nearly died. It was entirely possible that this was the most erotic breakfast she'd ever consumed. And she still had three-quarters of a waffle left to finish.

Their waitress showed up again, stopping Brennan's quickly derailing train of thought. "How is everything?" she asked.

"Phenomenal," Brennan replied with a grateful smile. She looked at Booth who was holding up his empty champagne glass.

"Can I get another one of these?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," the waitress responded, apparently fully aware that this would make the sixth mimosa she'd brought him.

"I'm driving," Brennan assured her. "Can I get a plain cup of coffee please?"

"Definitely," the waitress grinned, obviously relieved that Booth would not be navigating the streets of DC any time soon. She returned shortly with their refills, smiling gently at the couple. "Anything else I can grab for you?" she asked.

"I think I'm fine, do you need anything else, Booth?" Brennan asked. As she asked the question, she planted her foot squarely in his lap and curled her toes against the fly of his jeans, smiling as he choked on the sip of mimosa he'd just taken.

"Uh, no, I think, uh, just our check, probably. Thank you," he stammered.

"Sure thing," the waitress responded, a slightly confused expression marring her pretty features.

The pair ate in silence a little while longer, Brennan's left foot remaining in Booth's lap the entire time she ate her waffle. She laughed to herself as she chewed slowly and thoughtfully while Booth raced through his stack of pancakes as if someone was going to take them away if he didn't eat them in a certain amount of time. Shortly after the waitress brought their check, Booth looked up at her with a still-not-swallowed mouthful of his breakfast. "Ready?" he asked. She couldn't help but giggle at his rush to get her home.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" she teased.

"Bo-nes," he whined. "Remember? Me? Feeling you up to your heart's content?"

"Weren't there a couple options you gave me this morning?" She knew there had been, but when she looked across the table at the handsome man on the other side, wanting to take her home and ravish the daylights out of her… hell if she could remember what they were.

"Yeeesss… are you expecting me to remember them?"

"Nope," she said with a smile, dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

"Bones, let me get it," Booth offered.

She smiled at him as she finally let her foot drop from his lap. "You can get next time."

Next time. As far as Seeley was concerned, sweeter words had never been spoken. He nodded and smiled, slugging back the last of his mimosa as he dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and handed them over. "You know I'm not really all that drunk anymore," he mentioned.

Bones regarded him skeptically. "I'd rather not take any chances, thanks."

"Oh, no, I'm not saying I should drive. I just…" he could feel himself blushing as he trailed off.

"Just wanted me to know you were sober enough to…" she blushed just as red as he had.

"Yep. That."


"Okay then," Booth rubbed his hands together nervously. "My apartment's closer. Let's go."

When they were almost halfway back to his apartment, Booth got another brilliant (if he did say so himself) idea – not to mention a way to pay Bones back for her sexy little game of footsie in the restaurant. She was driving carefully, not used to navigating a vehicle as large as the Tahoe. She was actually pretty cute leaned slightly forward in her seat, her hands perfectly placed on the wheel at ten and two. He caught her eye and smiled when she glanced over at him for about the sixth time in as many blocks. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she blushed, focusing her attention back on the task at hand: getting them home before either one of them died of sexual frustration (or just plain died from the fact that she couldn't seem to keep her eyes on the road for longer than a block). Seeley waited another block before putting his plan into action.

Brennan was trying to focus on the road when she felt a hand on her knee. She swerved slightly, but just gripped the wheel tighter, knowing full well he was looking for a reaction; determined not to give him one.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked innocently.

"Fine, why?" she replied.

"No reason," he shrugged.

She sucked in a breath as his hand crept farther up to her thigh, the heat from his palm searing her skin through her jeans. His fingertips brushed back and forth over the inside seam of her pants, nonchalantly, as if he just kept his hand in her lap when he wasn't using it. His hand. Not her lap. But not like that. Jesus, she was on a slippery slope.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Booth!" she sighed, letting out a gasp as his hand nestled into the juncture between her thigh and her pelvic bone.

"Yes?" he asked, in a tone she was quickly learning was anything but innocent.

"We're almost there. Can you wait?"


Brennan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She almost wanted to laugh out loud at how on edge they had each other. She wasn't usually one to think with her heart, but she'd learned a lot from Seeley Booth in the few years of their partnership. It was them. Booth and Brennan. They were good at everything they did. Solving cases, fighting, kissing, and pretty soon, making love. Oh she could hardly wait. If she didn't die from the anticipation first. Something about knowing how bad he wanted her made her want him just that much more. She drove silently the final few blocks to his apartment, trying to keep her breathing steady since he still hadn't moved his damn hand.

When they got to the parking lot of his building, she slowed down, pulling the Tahoe gently into the parking space marked with his building number. "See? No reason to go whipping in there at mach 3, Booth," she pointed out.

"Bones. If there ever was a time to whip in at mach 3 – nice double entendre, by the way –it is now."

"What double… oh," Brennan blushed a deep crimson. How in the hell did she keep walking into these things?

"C'mon," his deep voice came from her left – she hadn't even noticed him getting out of the vehicle and coming around to open her door for her. Jesus. Get it together, Temperance.

Seeley took the beautiful doctor's hand and helped her down from the SUV, twining his fingers with her, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. She looked up at him with a slight smile. "I'm not sure…" his heart sank.

"Not sure about what?" he begged. Please don't be backing out. Please please please.

"I'm not sure how I can feel so nervous and so excited at the same time," she whispered. Oh thank you, God. Nervous he could deal with. Excited he could definitelydeal with.

He smiled a grin that he hoped was more winsome than wolfish. "We can take our time," he offered sweetly.

"Doyou want to take our time?" Brennan responded.

"Personally, I want whatever makes you happy."

"Booth," she whispered.

"Yeah, Bones," he replied, swallowing thickly.

"If you don't get over here and kiss me right this second…" she trailed off.


"I'm not gonna be very happy."

And then suddenly he was there; near her, by her, around her; but all she wanted was him over her, above her, and (oh God) in her. They groped their way (literally and figuratively) up the short single flight of stairs to his apartment, both of them feeling like they were lost in a flurry of kissing and touching. He wrapped his arms around her waist and slanted his mouth over hers at the top of the stairs, taking her a little by surprise, even though she'd practically offered herself up on a plate. She just hadn't expected him to be so… wow. Now she was going to be the one adding to the dictionary.

"Booth," she sighed.

"Seeley," he murmured back.

She was confused by his response for a moment before it dawned on her. He wanted to hear her say his given name. Never one to disappoint a man who was about to make her orgasm, she groaned his name low in the back of her throat.

"So fuckin' hot, Temperance," he responded.

"Bones," she amended quietly.

He chuckled against her mouth and pulled back a moment later. "Bones," he agreed, stroking a hand over her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Brennan launched herself at him, kissing him so hard it knocked their teeth together. Booth fumbled momentarily, the doorknob to his apartment digging into his hip. Brennan shoved his keys at him and he managed to get the door unlocked, them inside, and Bones shoved against the closed-again door without any major mishaps.

"And to think I let you convince me you didn't like it when I called you Bones," he teased against her mouth, hoisting her up by her waist, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips.

"Yeah well," she teased back. "You can call me Temperance when you come."

"Christ, woman," he whined, dragging his mouth away from hers long enough to kiss a trail down her throat to the top of her chest. Her head dropped back against the door, thudding hard enough to knock a photo frame off the wall to the wood floor, shattering the glass.

"Oops," she whispered, eliciting a chuckle from Booth. He pressed her a little harder against the wall, trapping the heat of himself between their bodies.

"Don't worry about it, it probably won't be the last thing that gets broken today," he assured her with a lascivious grin.

"What does that mean?" Brennan teased.

"Honestly? No idea. Bones, you put me in a place where I can't even talk dirty coherently."

"I think I'm going to take that as a compliment," she grinned.

"You should."


"Yeah, Bones," he sighed with a grin.

"Are we going to make out against the door all afternoon or are you going to get to that feelin' me up stuff?"

"Feelin' you up. Definitely." Booth turned from where he had her pressed against the door and headed down the hall to his bedroom, Brennan's legs still wrapped around his hips. He slid his hands up under her sweater to stroke along the smooth skin of her back, and when he reached her bra, he unhooked it deftly with one hand.

"I bet you got a lot of practice at that with all the Candis and Bambis and Buffys back in the day," she muttered dryly.

"If it's any consolation, yours is the only one I've wanted to unhook for a long time now," he grinned.

"It helps a little," she teased.

"And seriously, Bones? You think I would date a girl named Candi or Bambi or Buffy? Really?" he asked incredulously.

"I dunno… you look like a Buffy kinda guy."

"No ma'am. I'm a Bones kinda guy."

"I think I like that better."

"Me too, babe. Me too."

She grinned at him and resumed kissing him, letting him drag her sweater off over her head and toss it and her bra on the floor. "Wow," he breathed.

She rolled her eyes. "They're breasts, Booth. I'm sure you've seen them before."

"Not these ones," he grinned and a little thrill ran through her. "And what's with making me out to be a dirty man-whore?" he asked, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed.

She couldn't quite decide if he was genuinely offended or just playing. "Um," she began. He raised an eyebrow at her before shucking his own shirt. "I wanted to do that," she complained.

"Nope. Dirty man-whores take off their own clothes. Better make it up to me or you won't get to do the pants either."

Okay. Definitely playing. "I don't think you're a man-whore, Booth," she conceded.

"Yes you do, you think I date girls named Buffy and that I've seen every boob this side of the Mississippi."

"I'll make it up to you," she offered.

He grinned. "You'll get your turn. Right now it's mine." With that, he went back to work worshipping her body. And what a body it was: soft, tight skin, full breasts tipped with pink nipples that he wanted in his mouth more than he wanted his next breath. He ran his hands over them, tracing her curves to her flat stomach, down her abs, teasing his fingers against the waistband of her jeans. Her hips launched off the bed, thrusting into his hand. "Ah – ah – ah," he said. "I'm feeling you up, remember?"

"To my heart's content," she reminded him. "Consider it content."

"So you want me to stop?"

"Um, never in ten million years."

He smiled at her sighed response, flicking the button of her jeans open and sliding the zipper down. He moved down the bed a couple feet and pulled her jeans the rest of the way off so she was spread out before him clad only in lacy black and blue boyshort panties. "Would you do me a favor?" he asked, moving back up to lie beside her.

"At this point, anything," she replied huskily.

"Would you consider coming to crime scenes in just your panties?"

She let out a loud chuckle. That had been about the last thing she'd expected him to say. "Well if I thought you'd get anything accomplished, I'd come to work in just my panties every day," she lied with a smile.

"I know you're lying. But thank you for saying so. Gives me a little more fantasy material," he grinned, pressing a kiss to her naked breast. She groaned a response, inspiring him to kiss the other breast tenderly.

"Good, so good," she moaned. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, nipping it gently. His weight balanced on his left forearm, he traced a path with his right hand down her stomach to her panties. He teased her, tracing over the lace, letting his hand settle over her mound. She squeezed her thighs together, effectively trapping his hand, but torturing herself a little in the process. When she let up slightly, he moved his hand back up and slipped it beneath the lacy panties. Deftly, he found her clit and brushed against it whisper-light. Her hips bucked off the bed into his hand and she made a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan. He'd never heard anything sexier.

"I think you're about ready to explode," he whispered against her lips, coming back up to kiss her gently.

"Mmmm, you think?" she asked, shoving her tongue roughly into his mouth. "I think you've got too many clothes on." She reached for the button of his jeans, but with two of his fingers inside her and his thumb pressing against her clit, she couldn't quite muster the concentration. She jerked roughly and managed to luck out, the button on his jeans popping loose. She made a move to the zipper, her hand coming into contact with the bulge behind his fly for the first time that night.

"Gently," he hissed, reminding her that she wasn't the only one on edge.

Sorry," she smiled, pulling the zipper down as gently as she could manage, and then slipping her hand inside. "Off," she requested. He moved his hands from her body and stood, pulling her panties down her legs, massaging lightly along the way. He pulled the panties off her feet with a flourish, tossing them behind him. "I meant you," she pouted.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologized, divesting himself of his pants and boxers. "Better?"

"Be better if you were inside me," she groused.

"I aim to please," he reminded her. He hovered over her, bracing his weight on his left side again, he tested her readiness one more time before sliding his erection inside.

She bucked her hips against his with a groan. "I think I just died," she praised.

He smiled gently, taking possession of her mouth once again. Sliding his tongue inside, he kissed her deeply, pouring his whole heart into the kiss. He pushed her closer to the edge with every thrust, hoping to show her that "making love/defying physics" thing they'd talked about one night. Suddenly, he could feel her walls start to clamp down around him and he knew it would only be seconds longer.

"Unh, Seeley," she sighed into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his for control.

"Temperance," he replied, trying to signal to her how close he was. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his face to hers in a drugging kiss. He reached between them and massaged her clit back and forth. "Come on, Bones," he whispered. "Fall. I've got you. I'm right here."

His whispered vow was all it took to send her spiraling over the precipice of her orgasm, triggering his only a moment later. She dug her nails into his back as he came, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal and the flashes of light in front of her eyes to cease.

"Temperance," he whispered reverently.

"You're an amazing man, Seeley Booth," she marveled a few moments later, wrapped in his strong embrace.

"So they say," he replied cockily, his heart still racing.

"If not a little over confident," she responded with an eye roll and a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

He looked at her seriously, dragging a curl off her forehead. "I can't touch how amazing you are, Bones. Not on my best day."

She smiled and kissed him again, her eyes drifting shut then fluttering back open.

"Close them," he whispered as he suddenly remembered her tee shirt from that morning. "You're safe. You're sleeping with an FBI agent."

Brennan nodded and smiled when he pressed an intoxicating kiss to her lips. There may not be an alcohol named Seeley Booth, but she wasn't complaining – there was no way it would ever compare to the real thing.


A/N: I know Jamie about died of anticipation – hope it was worth it for the rest of you! Let me know!

Be on the lookout for another chapter of "Love Is" coming soon to an inbox near you – followed by a new Brennan/Booth love affair to be named later:)

My love to all of you,