I've been stuck in the airport for nine hours and I'm bored.

Warmth

"This is utterly unnecessary," she spat.

"Hey, that guy stabbed me. In the neck. With a freaking plastic knife. He's crazy," he replied, clearly irritated by her constant complaints.

"You didn't have to evacuate the whole building."

"Well, sorry if I care about your well-being, Doctor Brennan."

"You can't just wake all my neighbors and tell them to wait outside every single time a person starts stalking one of us, Booth. We're needlessly wasting precious hours of sleep and so are you."

"Hey, I got shot last time someone stalked me okay? If Howard Epps managed to get in your home when you had guards in front of your door, then I get to take all the precautions I want this time. I mean, what if it was a real knife instead of a plastic one?"

"Epps died, didn't he? I was fine. No need to overreact over something so trivial."

"You're fine, you're always fine. I'm the one who gets shot and stabbed and..." He quickly changed the subject when he saw a hint of guilt in her eyes.

"Anyway, I ended up shooting a clown and seeing a shrink after Epps conveniently died. I don't want that to happen another time. And then Sully came in and you nearly sailed away and I was..." He quickly changed the subject again, realizing this topic wasn't particularly safe either.

"Look, I'm the one with the badge and you're the one with the doctorates. So all the FBI stuff is my business, alright? That's just how it is," he stated with finality.

"It's a stupid reason."

"Yeah? Suck it up."

They stood nose to nose, glaring at each other in annoyance. The onlookers tiptoed a little bit farther away from them.

"You look cold," he suddenly remarked.

"I am cold. And it's your fault." She turned her back to him disdainfully, silently cursing the chilly night wind on her exposed skin.

"Aw, c'mon, don't get mad at me, Bones, I just don't want you to get stabbed in the neck too," he tried to defend himself. She heard him sigh behind her, and suddenly felt his warm hands on her elbows. He tenderly rubbed away the goose bumps on her arms, pulling her slightly closer to his chest at the same time. The cold instantly disappeared, replaced by hot butterflies flying around erratically in her stomach. She felt disinclined to examine the butterflies' provenance more closely.

"You should of brought a coat or something," he grumbled as he took off his jacket. "You'll end up sick, standing outside in the middle of February in a teddy."

She could distinctly see the knife cut on his neck, and it was much deeper than she had imagined. Maybe that stalker was a bit more dangerous than she had previously thought. "It's not a teddy, it's a nightshirt," she corrected. "And maybe you should let a doctor check that cut."

He rolled his eyes and handed her the jacket. "It was a plastic knife. I'm not gonna die. Here, put it on," he offered.

"What about you? Won't you also be cold?" she asked while eying the jacket with gratitude.

"I don't need it as much as you, believe me. Your 'nightshirt' is so flimsy it's almost transparent."

That must have been why he was desperately trying not to stare at her chest, she thought as she pulled his heavy coat onto her shoulders. But the jacket was still warm from his body heat, and she felt too comfortable in it to say that out loud.

She did enjoy making him blush, though.

He smiled. She looked cute in that big jacket.

There were sudden shouts coming from inside the building, and both turned to look at the agent jogging towards them with a broad grin.

"We found the creep, Agent Booth. He was hiding in Doctor Brennan's washing machine."

"Ha. I told you so, Bones."

"You could have given me your gun and let us all go back to bed, that would have been much more time efficient and practical," she declared.

"Couldn't you be just a little bit thankful? I might have saved your life."

"No. I'm thankful for the coat though."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Oh. You can keep it."

"Why? It's too big for me."

"Is it? I think you look cute in it."

"Booth..."

Neither noticed the handcuffed man until he tried to lunge away from the agents surrounding him.

"Temperance! Doctor Brennan!" the man shouted.

"My. It's the guy who tried to kill me with disposable cutlery. Must be really comfortable to hide in washers, huh?" he commented dryly.

"You!" the man yelled ferociously, "I wish I had murdered you! I wish you were dead and buried deep down in hell!"

"It might take just a little bit more than a scratch on my neck to whack me. Maybe you should try a spork next time, buddy."

"Booth, stop making fun of the murder suspect," she chided him.

"I'm not making fun of him."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Hey!" the man yelled again. "Next time I see you near my Temperance, I will end you, and I will mutilate you, I will disintegrate..."

"Are you sure you aren't cold, Booth?"

"I'm not."

"I will mangle you," the man went on, "I will cut you up, I will rip you apart..." The man shouted until he ran out of synonyms.

"Have a nice day too, " Booth mumbled.

"Mmmh. Can we finally go back to sleep, Agent Booth with a badge and no doctorates?"

"It's Special Agent Booth to you, ma'am. But yes, y'all can go home now. No psychos are gonna stab you anymore, I think."

The small crowd gathered on the pavement made their way back to their homes while the agents drove away with the outraged stalker.

"Want to come in? It's cold outside," she suggested.

"Nah. I'll let you catch up on your precious sleep."

"Alright."

"Want me to pick me up in the morning?"

"Of course. Bring coffee."

"I will."

"You want the coat back?"

"No, it's fine."

"I'll bring it to you in the morning, then."

"If you want to."

"Bye."

"Good night."

He let his teeth start chattering only after she closed the door. It really was cold as hell outside.

Not that he would've told her.