Motivation: Guess who was indulging in a strawberry Yoplait yogurt cup when this idea came to her? Psh. It came out of nowhere, by God. Not even kidding, it popped in my head like at the exact moment I popped the spoon in my mouth. It happened so quick I nearly choked. Seriously. One day, this show is going to kill me.


"Hey, Bones," Booth greeted cheerfully, gracing her office with his usual swagger and jovial presence. "Brought you a snack," he added, tossing her a small plastic container.

She caught it with ease, turning it over in her fingers to examine it. "A yogurt cup?" An eyebrow quirked in her scrutiny, which was then directed at her partner.

"Strawberry," he enticed with a broad grin meant to charm. As he said so, he leaned in, bringing up the tip of a plastic spoon before her nose for the taking.

She hummed her gratitude with a quick smile, snatching the spoon from him and setting the cup on her desk to dig in. "Thank you. You're always feeding me." She'd stated the latter portion with a teasing pinch to her face.

His retaliation came in the form of a mirrored expression. "Gotta make sure you eat something while you're holed away in here," he ribbed right back without missing a beat. "Of course, it holds nothing near the worth of hospital pudding, but it was the best I could do on such short notice."

That said, he pulled up a chair and settled in beside her. A papery snap could be heard as she removed the foil from the rim and placed it aside. "You could always go get yourself blown up again," she suggested, digging in with her spoon.

"There's that," he granted with an amused chuckle at her deadpan humor. He scooted closer, eyeing the screen curiously. "So, what're we looking at?"

Through a mouthful of yogurt, came her response. "I'm attempting to flesh out a scene from my new book," she explained.

His brow drew together and he eyed her in puzzlement. "Then why aren't you kicking me out?"

Heaving a sigh, she swallowed and glared at the screen in question. "Because I'm experiencing a mental block," she explicated, obviously provoked by the dilemma. "There isn't much for you to see." She'd been correct in that presumption. Only a blank Word Document acknowledged them. She then turned her head, regarding him with lowered lids. "Why are you here, Booth?"

He huffed a sigh, leaning forward on his elbows. "Other than your liaison to foodstuff, I have nothing to do. Forensics got nothing off the steering column, and I just talked to Hodgins—who says he'll need at least another forty minutes to identify his little love bug."

"I see," she said, loading up another spoonful and popping it into her mouth.

"Besides," he went on, and she could hear the Charm Smile in his voice without even having to look. "Do I really need an excuse to visit my favorite Forensic Anthropologist?"

"Considering your association with the specified title is rather limited, I'm not certain that was a compliment."

"It was absolutely a compliment."

"Then I'll accept it," she smiled briefly. "And you're welcome to stay here. It's not like the solitude is bringing me any writing ideas."

"Nice," Booth evidently approved, eyeing the keyboard with a schoolboy's delight. "I could give you a hand, if you like. What are Kathy and Andy up to?" He bounced his eyebrows suggestively. "More backseat lovin'? Just say the word, Bones—these fingers are yours…" he intoned, wiggling said digits to mimic the act of typing.

She uttered a low laugh at his efforts, but shook her head. "I don't think so, Booth." She swatted his eager fingers aside. "Your phalanges can go type up their own novel."

"Killjoy," he pouted.