Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. At all.

A/N: There's some strong language here but not really any smut. I'm more trying to see if I can get the characters right. But future chapters will have plenty of smut. Promise :)

Chapter 1: Not Exactly



"Hey, Bones," Booth casually strolled through her office door, a file in one hand and his charm smile in place.

Great. Brennan knew that smile and she knew that he didn't need to bring the paperwork over- he could have emailed it, faxed it, fed ex it, take your pick- but no, he was here. Which meant that he wanted to talk her into going with him to Wong Foo's or the diner or wherever for dinner, drinks, and conversation. And usually she caved because who was she kidding; she actually liked spending time with Booth.

So what if lately spending time with him was a little bit like looking at a delicious, glossy chocolate éclair behind a glass case. It was there, so close and so damn tempting, and you wanted it so bad but you knew you couldn't have it so all you did was stare at it and maybe, every once in a while, touch your fingertips to the glass.

And the really frustrating part was that she understood, she really did. He was her partner and her friend and she would never jeopardize that for sex, but her body wouldn't let her lie to herself anymore.

She wanted him, god, did she want him and lately the only thing keeping her from rubbing herself all over him whenever he stood too close was her incredible ability to compartmentalize. But compartmentalization could really only take you so far and since she'd spend the last couple of weeks masturbating twice a day, it was time to go out and take care of business. Maybe she couldn't have an éclair, but she could damn well have a cookie. She smiled a little at the thought; she really was getting better at the metaphors.

"What ya smiling at?" Booth asked, coming to stand next to her office chair as he dropped the file on her desk.

"Nothing," she stood quickly from her desk to put some space between them, "And I'm sorry, Booth, but I'm not doing paperwork tonight and I can't have dinner. I was just leaving."

"Leaving?" he frowned, it was only 5:30pm, Temperance Brennan did not leave work at five thirty in the afternoon, even on a Friday. Unless she had a date, but he was pretty sure she wasn't seeing anyone. "Why can't you have dinner?"

"I have to meet someone," she purposely kept her answer succinct as she went to retrieve her coat and gather her stuff.

Someone, Booth thought, as his heart started to beat just a tad faster. Okay, well, someone could be a lot of people, right? Her editor, a colleague, one of her students. He swallowed as he asked, "A date?"

Brennan bit her lip, it wasn't so much a date as it was a, what was that term Angela used, ah yeah, a booty call.

She didn't want to lie to him, she didn't lie to her partner and he didn't lie to her, but she didn't want to have this argument with him right now-the one where he lectured her about crappy sex and making love-because if they did, she might just say something she'd later regret.

"Yeah," she answered but she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

Booth's eyes narrowed as he saw her eyes flicker away when she answered. His FBI senses were suddenly tingling, the ones that told him when a witness, or a victim, or a suspect wasn't really telling him the whole story. But this was Bones, she was blunt and direct to a fault and she never had a problem telling him when she had a date. What was going on here?

"What's going on, Bones?" he walked a little toward the office door, effectively blocking the exit he saw her getting ready to make. "You haven't been dating anyone."

Booth was pretty sure he would know if she was, they spent so much time together. "Is this a first date?" he tried to keep his voice even, casually curious.

"Not exactly," and this time he saw the deception in her eyes. What the hell was this?

"What gives, Bones?" Booth looked her straight in the eye, "Why are you lying to me?" A thought crossed his mind and he said stiffly, "You don't have to make up an excuse just 'cause you don't want to come have dinner with me, you can just say no."

Brennan sighed in defeat. She was going to have to tell him because though he was likely going to harass her about it, she couldn't stand the hurt she could see in his brown eyes at the thought that she was making excuses not to have dinner with him.

"Booth, no, it's not that, ok," she assured him forcefully, "I am meeting a date, it's just not exactly a date like you'd define one I guess."

"What do you mean? How do I define a date?" he asked, and though he was mollified by her quick assurance that she wasn't making an excuse there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he wasn't going to be very happy with her explanation.

"Not you personally, Booth," exasperation made her voice a little curt, "I meant it's not a date as the conventional mores of our society define that term. I'm not meeting this man so that we can get to know each other with the possible objective of testing our long-term compatibility. I'm simply having dinner with someone who I already know I'm sexually compatible with, precisely because I already know that." Brennan gave her answer quickly and as subtly as she knew how, hoping he'd let it drop.

But, of course, not only did she not do subtle well, but this was Booth and he'd probably never let a damn thing drop in his life.

Booth's mind scrambled to make sense of her words. She was not saying what he thought she was saying, right? Please, God, he prayed, let this be another one of those squinty things that I just don't understand and not

"I'm not sure I understand, Bones."

Though he was quite desperately terrified that he did. This was after all Dr. Temperance- biological-urges-must-be-satisfied- Brennan.

"Are you telling me that you have a sex date?" These last two words came out in a scandalized hiss.

"That you are actually going to go meet up some random man to have sex?" Booth wasn't sure how he kept his voice at a normal decibel, especially since the urge to shout at his partner was rising with every second that ticked by and quickly becoming overwhelming.

"Not random, Booth," she said defensively because she could already see the horrified look in his eyes.

Damn him, who was he to judge her? He was her partner-not her parent, not her lover-her partner. And she had needs that their partnership did not satisfy, though she had to admit their partnership was satisfying on many levels. Intellectually? Yes. Emotionally? Surprisingly yes. Physically? A big fat no.

"I've known Adam for some time and I know that whenever I need to satisfy my physical needs I can call him and if he's available he's more than happy to accommodate me. He's very good."

"Bones, are you listening to yourself?" Booth demanded, taking an aggressive step forward that brought him close to her. "You are talking as if you are going to a freaking doctor's appointment. This is sex you are talking about, for god's sake. Sex shouldn't be about having someone you pick out of your little black book satisfy some biological urge."

"Little black book? I don't have . . . " she tried to interrupt, but Booth simply shot her a glare and kept going, full steam ahead.

"Sex means someone gets to touch you in ways others are not allowed to, it means someone is inside you, not metaphorically, but literally, Bones. Do you understand?"

Booth knew he should stop talking because though he wanted to stay calm and collected as he argued his side of the issue, he was becoming more and more pissed.

"Sex should be intimate, it should be about some kind of connection with the person you are having sex with, damn it Bones, it should be goddamn personal! It should not be about getting fucked by some stranger who barely knows you."

Booth had not shouted, rather, he spoken almost quietly but the words hung there between them with all the intensity of a scream. He was breathing fast now, his anger and agitation overriding his control. He had never spoken to her like that and he was shocked at the words he had let fall from his lips, but God, something had snapped at the thought that she was actually going to go out tonight with the express purpose of letting some guy fuck her.

Brennan's eyes widened slightly at Booth's words. She had never heard him speak like that and damn him, it was turning her on. Because when those luscious lips of his said the word fuck, the only thought in her head was that she wanted to do exactly that. With him. To him. So now she was turned on and angry, because how dare he yell at her about this, when he was the reason she had to do this to begin with. With a steely look in her eyes that should have given Booth warning, she closed the distance between them.

They were now standing face to face, mere inches apart. She was so close that when he inhaled, all he could breathe was her.

"That's right, Booth," she told him, her words husky and low and uncaring of his reaction, "I'm going to go out and let him fuck me because you know what, I need it. I can't stand it anymore. I'm tired of giving myself orgasms. I want the next orgasm I have to be while a man is fucking me senseless and I know from past experiences that he'll give me two. So, I'll come in tomorrow to do the paperwork and I'll see you Monday."

Her words appeared to have stunned him into silence, but Brennan knew that he wasn't going to be stunned for long, so she took the opportunity to walk around him and leave the office. She was angry, she was tardy, and she was wet, but she was going to go home, get ready, and put this little argument out of her mind.