A/N: Finally I finish it! Haha, I personally think this whole story isn't any good, in comparison to some of the stuff out there, but I needed to finish it and get it out of my system. Enjoy. I don't own anything, blah de blah.

The Morning after the Night before...

Brennan arched her back and stretched. Her back was cramping from being hunched over the autopsy table for so long and as she straightened up, her head rushed suddenly and her stomach turned. Her brain felt like it was trying to push its way out of her ears. The warm, fluffy bed in her apartment flashed across her mind, causing her to shut her eyes and sigh. Her head hadn't stopped hurting. Brennan had foregone any pain medication after waking up in a state she hadn't been in for quite a while but was now beginning to think this was an extremely stupid method of handling her hangover.

Beep. Beep. Beep. A shrill noise cut the air. Brennan's head throbbed and her mouth felt dry. One of Cam's machines was done. Or ready. Or something, she didn't really care. She almost staggered from the autopsy suite to her office, falling on her chair and reaching for her desk drawer, where she kept the paracetamol with codeine tablets she had brought across from the UK. She swallowed them with a drag of water from a bottle at least a week old from under the desk and groaned. Her head felt like a herd of elephants were stampeding through her cranium. She rested her head gently on the cool desk and closed her eyes.

Before long, at least, it felt like it hadn't been long; Brennan heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming her way.

"Hey, Bones, wake up," Booth's voice penetrated the fog of Brennan's mind. She lifted her head from the desk and looked at Booth. His normally tanned skin looked pale and by the way his forehead was creased, she would hazard a guess that his brain felt like it was coming out of his ears too.

Booth smiled and said in a tired, quiet voice, "Head hurts, doesn't it?"

"Ungh," Brennan groaned and pulled herself up fully. "It feels like my brain wants to push its way out of my ears," she concluded before leaning back.

"That doesn't sound particularly scientific to me," Booth replied, collapsing into her couch. "Got any pain pills, or water?"

Brennan lobbed them over to him before settling her head on the cool surface of her desk once again.

"Hey, I think these are illegal or something," Booth said, before popping three pills and downing them with a mouthful of water.

"Codeine is an extremely effective painkiller," Brennan mumbled. Booth waited for a continuing sentence but instead heard regular breathing, sleeping breathing.

"Bones?" Booth questioned, sitting up. She continued to snooze, her hair falling around her face and moving gently in time with her breaths. He was just contemplating how peaceful she looked when his phone trilled in his pocket. He answered it with a quiet, "Booth," and murmured a few words down the phone before snapping it shut. They had a body.

"C'mon Bones, wakey wakey," he said, climbing off of her sofa and gently shaking her.

"Ungh," she groaned again, before sleepily rising and looking at him with bleary eyes. "A body?"

"Yep, let's go, let's go," he said, chivvying her out of her chair and into her coat. She moved slowly and took the pain pills and water before following him out of the door of her office.

As they got into his car Brennan said, "I'm never drinking again. I feel horrible. I hope the body doesn't smell too bad, because I might end up compromising the remains."

"What, you mean you hope it doesn't smell like roast pork?" Booth joked, before feeling nauseous. Brennan made another groaning noise and settled back into her seat.

"You know Bones," Booth said as she rested her head against the window of the car, "the offer still stands."

"Which offer?" she mumbled.

"The one I made last night, 'bout you coming round and drinking with me instead of on your own in a restaurant or bar somewhere. I'd never let you feel like this in the morning. You gotta know your limits, because otherwise..." Booth glanced over at Brennan. She was looking at him directly, not asleep as he had thought. He expected a combative response, something like, 'Of course I know my own limits Booth,' or 'I wasn't on my own,' even though she blatantly was.

"That'd be nice Booth," Brennan said. She looked at him for a heartbeat, two heartbeats too long before shutting her eyes and leaning back. "Just not tonight."

Booth laughed and looked back to the road. That would be nice he thought to himself. For some reason, his head hurt a lot less now. His heart even felt slightly lifted in his chest.

That'd be very nice.

A/N: I thought that, in light of The Con Man in the Meth Lab, Booth getting wasted would be quite out of character. Still, it's the premise of my entire story, so I left it in, as if he hadn't had that past with his father. I'm not particularly happy with this story, as I said earlier, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.