CHAPTER 1: Hidden Feelings

AN: Hi all, since I'm on currently working on the epilogue for Spider Touch; I thought I would post this– I started playing with the idea some time ago. Anyway, it will probably only be a three or four shot. Not case oriented– purely for you fluff fans. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The door to her office swung open, startling Temperance out of her reverie. Her cheeks flushed as she saw the object of her fantasy saunter into the room.

"Hey Bones." His teeth flashed, causing a torrent of butterflies to extricate throughout her stomach, reaping havoc on her innards.

Temperance cleared her throat, silently cursing her traitorous body.

Schooling her features into what she hoped was an impassive expression, she asked, "Do we have a case, Booth?"

He sighed dramatically. "Would it kill you to just say 'Hi,' once in a while?"

"That is physically impossible."

"I didn't mean... Do you always have to be so literal?" Irritation seeped into his voice.

Temperance shrugged. "Did you need something?"


Her heart skipped a beat at the softly spoken word. "Excuse me?"

His lips curved into a cocky smile, upon hearing the grate in her voice. "We have a case."

Something flashed through her eyes that if he didn't know any better, would have sworn

disappointment. Squashing that thought immediately, he wrote it off as wishful thinking.

"Couldn't you have just said that in the first place?"

Ignoring her question, he rounded her desk and pulled her chair back. "Come on, I came to give you a lift home."

Temperance wondered briefly how exactly he knew that her car was getting a tune up, and she had caught a ride that day with Angela. Then his words sunk in. "Wait– why do I need to leave?"

Booth grinned, pulling her to her feet. "So you can pack."

Groaning inwardly, she asked, "We're are you dragging me off to this time?"

She knew that it was fruitless to argue. He'd just go over her head. They've danced that dance one to many times, and the only thing she got from it was a migraine.

His smile grew wider, if that was possible. "Burlington, Vermont. A set of remains was found in a dumpster behind Champlain College."

"And you're grinning like an idiot, because...?"

Booth clutched his chest. "You cut me deep, Bones. You cut me real deep."

She tried her best to give him a stern look, but her face broke out in a grin. "You're ridiculous– and evading."

He splayed his hands out. "You got me. But I'm only evading because I don't want to listen to you whine."

"I don't whine!"

"Whine complain– what's the difference?"

"The difference is..." Her voice trailed off as she realized he had succeeded in distracting her again. "Quit doing that! Now what are you omitting?"

He breathed a sigh of defeat. "We have to drive."

"Really?" Her voice held a note of excitement. "Why would I complain about that? Have you ever seen the foliage this time of year? It's beautiful, especially up north."

"I just thought you'd prefer the quicker route." He shrugged his shoulders. "Guess you learn something new every day– Now grab your things, we're going.

Opening the front door to her apartment, she stepped aside, allowing Booth to go ahead of her.

She motioned toward the couch. "Sit down, I'll get us some plates."

Booth nodded absently, to busy inhaling the mouth-watering aroma wafting up from Sid's famous cherry pie to notice anything she said.

Putting down the bag of takeout, he pulled the box of pie toward him and lifted the lid--

"No dessert until you eat your dinner, young man." Temperance teased. She placed a plate and fork down in front of him, while pushing the pie out of reach.

Booth met her eyes, smiling lightly. "I guess you found my weakness."

"Cherry pie?"

There was a flash of something in his eyes, that she didn't recognize. "Dessert."

Her heart begin to hammer with in her chest, as the little voice inside her head told her he wasn't talking about food. That is ridiculous, She scoffed. Why would Booth insinuate that? He wasn't interested in her. They were just partners. Friends.

Like you're not interested in him? That little voice was beginning to piss her off.

She sat down beside him, and focused on piling food into her plate. She refused to acknowledge her growing attraction to her partner. It was something that she had contended with for a long time now, and she would not let that stand in the way of their friendship.

They ate in relative silence, neither of them speaking until their plates were completely void of food.

Temperance leaned back, groaning softly. "I feel like I'm going to explode." Glancing at Booth, her eyes grew wide as he sliced himself a massive helping of pie. "How can you eat another bite."

"I'm a man." He said, as if that explained everything.

Shaking her head at his answer, she unbuttoned her jeans and let out a sigh of relief at being able to breathe again.

Booth's fork froze half way to his mouth, as his eye caught Temperance unbutton her pants.

After a moment, he lowered his fork. The cherry pie no longer seemed as appetizing.

He stood quickly, nearly knocking over a glass of wine in his haste. Righting the glass before it fell, he then began gathering empty takeout containers, and plates. Anything to keep his mind of ravishing his partner.

"I can do that, Booth."

"Nah, just relax, I got this." He returned from the kitchen. "I'm gonna take off anyway. I have to pack myself." Grabbing his keys off the coffee table, he kept his eyes averted. "I want to be on the road by eight," He reminded. "So I'll be here bright and early."

She tossed him a saucy grin. "Oh joy."

Something startled Temperance out of her sleep. Glancing at the clock on the night stand, she saw that it was only ten to six. 'What was that?' She wondered.

After another beat, it sounded again. This time she was awake, and recognized the sound as someone rapping on her door.

Resisting the urge to grab her bat, she padded barefoot to the door. Being half asleep, she didn't stop to wonder if it was such a good idea answering her door wearing only a tank-top and underwear.

Looking through the peephole, she saw Booth waiting, with a somewhat impatient look on his face.

Muttering under her breath, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, scowling.

His nostrils flared, as he took in her attire. This woman is going to be the death of me.

With out a word, Temperance snatched his coffee out of his hand.

"Good morning, Bones." His voice oozed with sarcasm, as he willed his eyes to stay on her face and not her–

"What are you doing here so early?" She asked, after downing half his coffee.

He held up a grocery bag. "I thought we could make breakfast before we left." His eyes drifted down her body on their own accord, despite his brain's protest. They lingered on her shapely legs for several seconds before snapping back to her face.

Stop it! He cursed.

Temperance was watching him with a strange sparkle in her eyes. "Were you checking me out?"

Booth's face burned. "What? No! No way. I– I just..." Clearing his throat, he motioned to her body. "I just never realized how buff you were." He cringed at how lame he sounded.

She arched one eyebrow, but said nothing.

Temperance stepped out of the doorway, and allowed im to enter. "Let me take a shower, and I'll come help, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, still embarrassed.

As she turned around, and headed off in the direction of the bathroom, his eyes fell to her tight bottom. What could he say? He was a glutton for punishment.

"Stop looking at my ass"

Temperance emerged twenty minutes later, fully dressed, with damp curls framing her face.

Booth had already mixed the pancake batter, and was now heating up the frying pan. She came up beside him wordlessly, and began rummaging through the cabinets.

"Aha!" She exclaimed, showing Booth her prize.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Chocolate chips, Bones?"

Grinning, she bumped him aside with her hip and began sprinkling the little morsels into the batter. "What good are pancakes, with out chocolate chips?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. There was such tenderness with in them, it was humbling.

I could get used to this. He thought wryly, as he poured the mix into the frying pan.