A/N: Alright, lovies. All this talk of being submissive made me more open to giving in to what you wanted. Which was a Part II to our kinky little adventure. Hope it lives up to all your Booth-handcuffing dreams;)
Taking in the uncomfortable-looking pair in front of him, Lance Sweets contemplated how to begin this particular session. His background was in organizational psychology, and these two had originally been presented on paper as requiring assistance with improving the quality and efficiency of their team dynamics. That he was trained for. But he hadn't been prepared for the unconventional partners that had walked through his door. What training did he have that would get him ready for the reality of whatever the hell they were? He could have gone to graduate school for an extra decade and still be unsure how to proceed with this particular twosome. "Is there something important that we need to talk about today?"
Brennan and Booth glanced at one another, her gaze goading and her arms crossed. "I think you should tell him, Booth. After all, I have confronted my issues. This one is your problem."
Dr. Sweets looked at them questioningly. Booth looked embarrassed. "Well…ah…jeez, Bones, I don't know what to say." She glared at him.
This was going nowhere fast. "Dr. Brennan, why don't you explain the issue from your own perspective. Then, if Agent Booth has something to add, he can."
"Fine. Do you remember what we talked about in our last individual session?"
"Yes. Are you comfortable discussing that in front of Agent Booth?" If he properly recalled, he had encouraged his client to be assertive in restoring the balance of their partnership by asking for temporary dominance, since she had allowed her partner to see her at her most vulnerable and submissive.
"I have already discussed it with him."
"And he's being a baby."
That got a reaction from the FBI agent. "Hey," he replied indignantly. "I am not."
"Booth, you are."
Dr. Sweets interrupted them before they could continue with their bickering. "Maybe this is a good time to offer your thoughts, Agent Booth."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Look. I'm a pretty… ya know… sensitive guy most of the time. I have no problem talking about feelings or anything. Bones has seen my… softer side. But what she's asking… that's just not normal. She's sort of telling me she wants me to be the girl."
"This sexist thought has been brought to you courtesy of Agent Seeley Booth, Macho Man," Brennan snapped.
"You're judging me. Stop judging me."
Sweets refused to get sucked into this interaction. "Agent Booth, you're saying that you have a problem with being submissive."
Booth winced. "I really don't like that word. You know. In reference to…me." Brennan rolled her eyes.
"Okay then. We'll use different terminology. What about being… less-than-strong… with Dr. Brennan do you find particularly aversive?"
The agent looked at him like he was a particularly dumb dog. "I am a man, Sweets. Maybe once you go though puberty you'll understand that."
The young therapist sighed. "I see that part of your understanding of what it is to be a man is being hostile to me. But what is your fear about 'not being a man' with Dr. Brennan?"
It was easy to see the flush that came to Booth's face, as he looked guiltily at the scientist in front of him. She stared back accusingly, and Sweets knew there was more of a story here than either were letting on.
It had been an unspoken standing arrangement. They worked during the day, professional to the end. And at night, they took turns going to one another's apartment and fucking one another's brains out. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing kinky. Just pure, raw, hot sex. They didn't talk about what they were doing. And they certainly didn't talk about the night when Booth had handcuffed her and tortured her slowly with his lips and tongue when she hung moaning helplessly until he finally allowed her the release she had so desperately needed. And begged for. And their illicit activities were all going along just fine and good until, to Booth's surprise, they stopped. She just didn't show up one night. He took his turn the following evening, but the next night, she didn't show again. He was very confused. And horny. But the "unspoken" part of their little arrangement was making it difficult to get to the bottom of things.
He had asked her if she was coming over tonight. Because he couldn't stand not knowing, but he just couldn't bring himself quite yet to ask for what he really wanted. She had looked up briefly from her computer and asked, "For paperwork?" Probably knowing that anymore, her saying the word 'paperwork' immediately gave him a throbbing hard-on. 'Paperwork' meant lots of things recently. Very few of them having anything to do with paper. Or with work.
"Yes," he replied, his teeth gritting, holding a file over his crotch to avoid her noticing just how much her little power-play was affecting him. She gave him a sweet smile.
So she came that night, because he had asked. And, strangely enough, brought over said paperwork, diligently spreading it over the coffee table and immediately beginning to talk about the case. The light was hitting her in such a way as to make her shirt a little transparent, and her glossed lips glisten. What about the case? He couldn't concentrate. Why was she trying to make him concentrate?
"Do you want a drink?" he asked suddenly.
She shook her head. "No, I'm good."
"Something to eat?"
Well, hell, if she kept this up he was going to have to go take a cold shower just to get through this night.
"Okay. What do you want, then?" he asked, and he knew the frustration was apparent in his voice.
She paused, smiling just a little. He tamped down an urge to strangle her for teasing him like this. But then, she was on the floor in front of him on the couch, between his knees, approaching her chosen task with a single-mindedness and slight aggression that surprised him.
"Bones, you wanna go to the bedr…" His words were cut off in a gasp as she gripped his erection and pulled it through the fly of his jeans. She ran a fingertip up and down it thoughtfully.
"No." It was all she said before her lips were sliding assiduously down the length of it, taking him impossibly deep into her throat.
Nobody gave a blowjob like Temperance Brennan. He already knew that. The woman's mouth could qualify as a deadly weapon, and she wielded at least as effectively as his fellow Rangers did their guns. He didn't even know how it was physically possible for her tongue to seemingly be in all those places at once. And right now she appeared completely intent on swallowing him whole, which was certainly not going to prolong their evening. Before he even had a chance to touch her, she was making him lose control, making him almost embarrass himself. He gently pressed at her shoulders.
"Jesus, Bones. Stop. Slow down."
She looked up, looking incredulous. "What's wrong?"
"You're making me crazy, that's what's wrong. Aaahhh… that is not your cue to keep going." Apparently she was taking it as such, however, as her lips continued to tug at his tender flesh. He cupped her head and pulled it back again with a gasp, and she looked at him frustratedly.
"Dr. Sweets says that I should experience you at your most vulnerable to restore the dynamics of our relationship."
He nearly choked. "You talk to Sweets about… this?"
"About our dynamics? Yes. Yes, I do."
Trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying was exceedingly difficult, as his mind was otherwise occupied with the angry pulsing from between his legs. "Bones, I'm not… vulnerable, okay? Now come up here and let me take care of you."
It was the wrong thing to say. She stood up, eyes flashing. "So me accessing my vulnerability for you is completely appropriate, but it's wrong to ask for the same thing from you?"
He sighed, trying to figure out what to say to stop her questions, but also keep her from leaving. "Will you just let me make you feel good?"
"What if I said it would make me feel good to hear you beg?"
No way. "No way."
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. Then you can do "paperwork" on your own tonight and be in complete control of whatever happens with your little problem there." She gestured to his open pants.
Oh, she wouldn't. "Aw, Bones, don't be like that." He reached up to grab her hand, but she pulled it away.
"I don't think so, Booth. And we will be speaking about your control issues in our next therapy session."
And she had left him.
How could he be the man he wanted to be when she hurt his little feelings the way she did?
"You've obviously received some very strong messages about what it means to be a man, Agent Booth."
"Um… I guess." This whole situation was feeling very, very uncomfortable. He wasn't enjoying Doogie here telling him what it meant to be a man.
"Do you believe that these overly rigid gender roles have been helpful in your life?"
"Now wait. I didn't say 'overly rigid.' You said 'overly rigid.'"
"I'm feeling the need to challenge that, Booth. You said, in effect, that your definition of being a man does not include intense vulnerability, even in a safe context. That seems rigid. Or, don't you feel safe with Dr. Brennan?"
Her crystalline eyes locked on him, and she was obviously interested in his answer. He sighed. "Of course I feel safe with Bones. She's my partner. But even so, I'd like to be… perceived in a certain way, even by her. Everybody wants that. Right?"
"What way is that, Booth?" she asked him softly, and it bothered him that she now knew he cared about such things.
"You know… strong. Competent. Able to…"
"Take care of me?" Brennan scoffed. She sat back, looking dangerously close to shutting down again.
"Why is it so bad for me to want to take care of you?" Booth huffed.
Sweets interrupted them. "It has already been established that as partners, you both look out for and protect each other. It's a reciprocal process. I believe you're the one who pointed that out, Dr. Brennan."
Booth gave Sweets a grateful look, and hated him just a little less than when he came in the room.
"But, the fact that you feel unable to give up your control, even knowing that your partner needs and wants you to, interests me. Can I offer an interpretation?"
"Can I stop you?"
"I'd be interested in hearing it," Brennan piped up.
That was enough for Sweets. "When children are inoculated with enough gender role stereotypes, they can easily become parts of that child's personality. In your case, you adopted many of those stereotypes as your own. But, as Dr. Brennan has recently learned, all of us have deep, innate needs to be able to let down one's guard and experience the pleasures of being vulnerable. When you feel this urge, it immediately clashes with the stereotypes you hold. The thought makes you feel weak, ineffectual, unmanly, even as you deeply desire the experience. This dissonance results in a gender role strain that came to a head when Dr. Brennan asked you to take that submissive position. It is hard work always being powerful, in control, like a 'real man' is supposed to be. But, perhaps, it's just as hard to allow yourself to give up that façade."
Booth looked at the doctor witheringly. "Get to the point, doc."
Brennan spoke. "He's saying that a 'real man' could be vulnerable without compromising his masculinity. That being vulnerable is a part of masculinity."
It was too much. Booth stood. "Okay, that's enough of this. You," he said pointing at Brennan accusingly. "You should be ashamed of herself, Little Miss "Psychology is a soft science" using it to justify her points of view. And you," pointing at Sweets this time, "instigating her."
"I'm just trying to be helpful to the both of you," Sweets insisted. Booth ignored him and turned to Brennan.
"Look," he whispered low. "I want to be able to give you whatever you want. But you're asking for a lot."
"Only as much as I gave you."
He knew she was right, and it only frustrated him. Being masculine was his identity. Being in control was his forte. What she wanted… he might not be good at it. And the thought of not being good for her…with her…was unthinkable. This time, he was the one who stalked out of the room, leaving Brennan and Sweets shrugging at each other helplessly.
He went home. Drank a beer. And another. Paced. Brooded. Thought about her. He always thought about her anymore. His mind fought with itself. Finally, he couldn't take it. Couldn't take being without her. Grabbing his coat, he headed for his apartment door. Before he left, he paused. It felt like he was forgetting something. He remembered, and grabbed it before he left.
Fifteen minutes later, he was at her door, knocking. She opened it, looked at him coolly, arms crossed. "What can I do for you, Booth?" she asked him.
Silently, he reached out for her hand, put it palm up in his own. She glanced down, slightly bemused at the feel of the cool metal that he took from his pocket and dropped into her hand.
"You're sure?" she asked him, holding up the cuffs and dangling them in front of him. He nodded, feeling the warmest of flushes come over his face. Stepping aside, she allowed him into her home.
"How does this work?"
She was lighting a candle in the corner of the room, and she looked at him as if amused. "This? There's no 'this,' Booth. There's you and me, and how I'm going to repay you for your little hard-to-get act for the past few days."
"My act? You're the one who stopped coming over…"
Her eyes flashed, and he wasn't sure if it was the candlelight or not. In any case, he rethought his plan to challenge her. He was sitting at the foot of her bed, and she was suddenly right in front of him, intoxicating him with her scent. "All you had to do was ask. Right?" She rested her hands on his shoulders, and he couldn't take his eyes away from hers. "That's what you did to me. You made me beg for what I wanted." Hands dropping to his sides, fingernails scratching just under the hem of his shirt. She caught his nervous gulp, and smiled a little, climbing astride his lap. "You liked that, right? Making me shake with wanting you, knowing I would have done anything to have you inside of me?" she cooed into his ear. Slowly, she peeled his shirt up and over his head and felt his thumping heart pressed against her own chest. Greedily, he felt under her shirt as well, squeezing at the pliant skin there. So cute, how his growing excitement was making him forget who was in charge here. She allowed him this, let him respond to her touches by pulling off her top, gazing at her with hunger.
"So fucking pretty," he swore softly. He must have missed her.
"Thank you," she replied politely. Right before shoving him backwards onto the bed, hard enough for him to bounce slightly and gasp in surprise at the impact. With impressive dexterity, she pulled the handcuffs that he had almost forgotten about from the nightstand, and snapped them onto one of his wrists. She lifted his hands to the bars of the headboard, and he briefly hesitated, resisting her pull. A raise of her eyebrows make him think better. He lifted his arms willingly and moved back a little, so she could secure him onto the wooden bars. He laid spread, at her mercy. And despite the rush of anxiety he felt at being so out of control, some faraway part of him recognized that he had never been harder in his life as he was right now.
"You disappointed me, Booth. You had been doing so well at meeting my needs, but as soon as it got a little uncomfortable for you, you backed off. You think it was comfortable for me to be helpless with you, being made to scream for the things I wanted but had been too afraid to ask for? Well, now you'll know." The whole time she spoke, she was sitting on his thighs, tracing patterns onto his bare chest with the very tips of her fingers. And he was reminded painfully of how she had left him unsatisfied last night. His cock demanded that he ravish her right now, apparently not having got the memo that he was currently not in a position to do this.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked her, muscles twitching under her touch and despising the pleading quality he heard in his voice.
"That's the right question, at least." She smiled at the expression on his face. "Don't look so anxious, Booth. All I want is for you to be honest with me. You had thought of dominating me, long before you actually did. You had your dirty little thoughts, imagining owning me sexually, but you never thought of allowing me the same privilege. You need to learn a lesson in fairness." Her roving hand stopped moving then, inches from the bulge in his pants that was begging to be released.
"You want me to…"
"I want you to tell me about it. In detail. All the times you imagined me submitting to you. I know you, Booth. It made you feel guilty, didn't it?" She knew the answer, and didn't wait for a reply. "This is your chance to make amends, accept the consequences. But…if you are lucky…I might also reward your honesty, and your willingness to learn."
His mind vacillated wildly for approximately a nanosecond between the options she gave him. When the choice was made, he immediately began to speak. "The first time I met you."
"I had been talking with Goodman about the possibility of you serving as the liaison for our department. He said it was probably a good idea to meet you in person, but warned me that you would be a tough sell. I wasn't worried. You were finishing something up in the lab, by yourself. I saw you from behind, in that damn blue coat and latex gloves and your hair pulled back, but I could already tell you were gorgeous. You turned around when he introduced me, and I smiled at you, my best smile. And you gave me the most dismissive look I had ever seen. Could have turned a man to stone. Goodman left us alone in there together, and the whole time, you refused to even consider that we might be helpful to each other."
She shrugged from above him. "I resented someone telling me in what arena I should be doing my job. And I didn't like you being slick with me."
"You made that very clear."
"So what did it make you want to do?" she asked, with an innocent quality to her voice that he knew was bullshit. It brought back a little of the anger and frustration that he had felt on that day. One of the rare occasions that his charm got him nowhere.
"I thought about moving closer to you, so slowly that you wouldn't even recognize it until I had you backed up to the table. I could hear you asking what the hell was I doing, and me replying that I just thought you'd like to know what I and the F.B.I. had to offer you. Feeling your breathing quicken while I lean a little closer, making you want that kiss, then backing off. You'd challenge me again, I knew you would, say that there wasn't anything I had that you would want." Damn, talking about this was getting him worked up. He shifted a little on the bed, trying to get relief from his too-tight pants.
"And then?" she asked. He looked up at her defiantly.
"That's when I'd spin you around and bend you over that goddamn table. And you'd squeal a little but you wouldn't stop me. Not when you felt my hands at your hips and my hard-on grinding against your ass. You'd be indignant, but pleased, too, because you'd know you got to me, and you like that. It makes you hot. Too hot to do anything but squirm when I reach around to undo your pants, put my hand down them and feel how soaking wet you are while you buck against my fingers. Too hot to do anything but whisper to me that if I had anything to offer you, I better give it to you now before you change your damn mind. And too hot not to moan a little bit when I yank down both our pants and pound you, even though anyone could walk in that room at any time. God damn, Bones, why are you making me talk like this? It's driving me crazy."
And he wouldn't dare point out that maybe he wasn't the only one feeling a little crazy. Her eyes were glazed, her nipples hard against the silky bra she was wearing, and she was rocking slightly against his thighs. He was jealous of her mobility right now.
"That's bad, Booth," she said softly, a little shakily. "The very first time we met, you're already thinking about how to tame me? Make me bend to your will? And you didn't even know me."
Yes, he had had enough of those guilty thoughts once he left. He knew very well that she was a brilliant, respected, classy woman, and he very much wanted her respect as well. The thoughts he had about her were completely inappropriate, and he said a couple of extra Hail Mary's at church later just to try to cleanse himself of how dirty his fantasies made him feel. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry." Then he gasped at the mild sting of the hot wax she dribbled onto his chest from the candle she had lit earlier. He swore under his breath. He was as hot for it as ever before.
She set the candle aside, the wax cooling and hardening in dots even against his heated skin. Leaning over his body, she gently traced her tongue around those spots. He moaned at the feel of her mouth soothing away the remnants of the stinging. "You're forgiven," she said softly against his skin, and if he hadn't been bound, he would have hugged her in gratitude. Then fucked her. Hard.
"What else?" she asked, returned to her seated position on him. Dear Lord. She was going to make him do this again? Her voice replayed in his mind. 'Every dirty little fantasy,' it reminded him. This was going to be a long night.
"The first case we worked on together," he sighed. "I found you in the firing range shooting bullseyes like your life depended on it. You taunted me, questioned how I was doing my job. You told me to be a cop, like you doubted I knew how to do that."
"That made you angry."
"You're damn right it did. You don't know how close I came…"
Fuck. "In my mind, I had you tight against that wall, and that sure look you had in your eyes became a little doubtful. I decided to make all that cocky confidence disappear, so I just did it. Kissed you so damn hard that you should have been glad my hand was there to keep your head from slamming back against the wall. And you were kissing me back, and so fucking into it, I knew that you were gone, so I pressed my other hand between your legs. I start rubbing your clit through your pants, hard, and you are gasping. I rub you and kiss you until you are shaking, I'm practically holding you up against that wall, you're going to come. And then…I gather up all the self-control in my body and I stop. Tell you I always know exactly what I'm doing. And then….I walk away, leaving you there to think about what you did." He had no doubt he was going to get punished for that one. And God help him, he was almost eager for it. When the wax fell on him, he let out a shaky sigh, followed by a groan as this time, her forgiving tongue trailed all the way down to the fly of his pants, where she opened them a little, giving him some measure of relief from the growing pressure. And then:
So he told her. Everything he remembered, every time he imagined tying her up, or blindfolding her, or spanking her cute little ass until she gave him the validation that he longed for, screaming her delight at his ministrations. He described each detail of his actions, and how her body responded, and after each bedtime story came the wax, hot and dripping onto his bare skin, making him wince but at the same time anticipate with rapture the way that she would reward his honesty. Once, she took off her bra, lowering her breasts to his mouth so he could kiss them the way he described in his fantasy, laving her nipples in his mouth until she was gasping herself Another time, she finally removed his pants, which had become nearly tortuously uncomfortable, gently cupping the bulge she found and giving it a squeeze that made him ache in pleasure. He rattled the cuffs at this, thinking maybe they would magically disappear if he willed them away. No luck.
Finally, he begged her. He needed her. It had been too long, and he had been overstimulated tonight. "Please, Bones. I did what you asked. Let me feel you. Really feel you. Please." He felt euphoric when she nodded slightly. Standing, she removed her pants, tempting him with all that bare, flushed skin that he couldn't touch. She straddled him again, and he marveled at her, this women who pushed his buttons so easily, who he would give up his pride for. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't have a heart attack when she slid down his cock, inch by tortuous inch, and he gasped in relief. Forgetting that by this point in his own domination of her, he still had a few surprises in store.
She didn't move. She sat there on top of him, breasts heaving, encasing him in a silken vice. He raised his hips desperately, trying to get the friction that both of them needed, and she wouldn't budge. Leaning closer, lips brushing against his as she spoke, she asked him, "What have you learned tonight?"
Think, Booth. Think. "I…ah…I'm not sure…"
Looking disappointed, she began to rise off of him. "Really? I had thought we were making progress…."
"No! We have. We have." She settled back in. "I learned…I learned that it is only fair for both of us to have our turns being submissive. That sometimes I need that." She rewarded him with a pulse of her inner muscles, and she should have been glad that alone didn't send him tumbling over the edge. "I learned that you'll take care of me when I'm vulnerable. You'll forgive my weaknesses." Another pulse. He talked faster. "I learned that we are so fucking good together that it doesn't matter who is and isn't in control. I learned that I need you all the ways I can have you. I learned that you have me as much as I have you. And I learned that it's no fucking good without you and Jesus Bones I want you so bad right now that I feel like I'm going to die just please please show me that you need me too please…" And he was jabbering now, begging her even as she began to move, rocking him, drawing all the repressed sensations up and through his body. And as he exploded he was still begging, not sure whether he wanted her to stop, spare him the ultra-intense sensations, or keep going forever, just leave him here to do whatever she wanted with him because he knew that whatever it was, it would be good. She milked him dry, all his expectations and assumptions and perceptions torn to pieces, giving him a starting place to put them back together again.
When he had nothing left in him to give, his body spent, he laid panting, feeling as if there weren't enough air in the room to recover from that experience. He felt Bones lean over him, gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Thank you, Booth," she said sweetly. She left him and when she came back, he jumped a little as the warm washcloth touched the skin of his chest, as she washed the bits of wax away. "You can put your arms down now, you know," she advised. Moving them, he was surprised to find the cuffs gone. He hadn't even realized that she had removed them. He brought down his arms, a little self-consciously.
"So," he said, slowly. "Was that... you know… good for you?"
She looked at him amusedly. "Well, I don't know. The second orgasm wasn't quite as good as the first, but I would say that three is my lucky number. So yes. It wasn't too bad." Winking at him.
Gratefully, he laughed a little. "You know what, Bones? Maybe this therapy thing is good for us. I feel like we're both learning a little something new."
She nodded. "Think you might be right." Giving his body one last, loving swipe with the cloth, she placed it down on the stand beside them and joined him, nestling her head into his shoulder. They were quiet for awhile.
"Any of those things I talked about while we were… you know… any chance you'd… um… play along?"
She couldn't help but chuckle. "Glad we've been relieved of our guilt tonight."
"Yeah. Thanks for that," he grinned. He reached over and picked up the candle, which was little more than a stub anymore, from the nightstand. "Anything you are feeling guilty about?"
"Don't push it, Booth."
"Wouldn't dream of it." With a rush of breath, he blew the candle out, plunging them into darkness.
"You're looking much more relaxed today," Dr. Sweets observed. It was always pleasant to see his clients improving from one session to the next.
"Yeah, I think we're doing pretty good, Doc," Booth agreed, catching his partner's eye from across the couch and grinning at her. She smiled back prettily.
"I know things got a little tense during our last session, and I wanted to talk about the feelings that this discussion of gender roles and vulnerability brought up."
"Actually, I think we may have worked things out on our own," Dr. Brennan replied. "We've been doing much better at unfacilitated open and honest communication."
"That's good to hear, Dr. Brennan. Has therapy played a role in that?"
"We were just talking about that," Booth responded. "We had our doubts, but therapy has opened up lots of different avenues for discussion. It's been good for us."
Dr. Sweets beamed.
"And the really amazing thing," Dr. Brennan continued, "is that it's had positive effects on our partnership and friendship, as well."
Now he was just confused. "As well as what?"
She looked at him as if he had the intelligence of an amoeba. "Our sex life." Agent Booth nodded.
Sweets' mouth fell open. "Just wait," he said slowly. "You are trying to tell me…that this whole time…we've been talking about sex?"
His clients looked at him blankly. "What else would we be talking about?"
"I thought that maybe you were working on the trust-building activities that we discussed early in our work together. You know, the falling backwards off a chair and catching each other, the 'mine field' activity where you verbally guide each other while blindfolded… that stuff."
They looked at each other scoffingly. "Well those things are just silly," said Booth.
"Actually, the blindfold thing isn't too far off, though," Brennan corrected.
Sweets dropped his shaking head to his hands. "You two are unbelievable." Sighing.
"Hey, don't feel bad. You helped a lot," Brennan said comfortingly.
"Yeah, really. But hey Doc, Bones and I have to go. We have some work to do. You know… on… um… other issues. But I think we've got it from here. Thanks for everything, though." They stood, and Booth slapped him on the shoulder. "You just keep doing what you are doing."
Sweets sat for awhile after they left, stupefied. Finally, he pushed his chair back over to his computer. Pulled up his search engine, and typed in "Certification in Couples and Family Counseling." Apparently he was receiving a strong message that he had missed his calling. And right now, a career change felt like just what the doctor ordered.
A/N: Now, don't we all feel better now that that's out of our system? Now seriously. Done. Surely there are some folks out there still wanting the nice, normal smut in Scenes from a Hat (normal. Ahem.). And wanting to find out what happens to poor, comatose Booth in Be With Me? Well, I wanna find out, anyway;)
But seriously, folks, thanks for encouraging me with this one. 'Twas a blast. You rock.
Don't forget to hit the magic button!