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It was nearing dawn before the large, black SUV lurched out of the swamp. Booth hated swamps; the last place that anyone should be laid to rest. No one was laid to rest here, just bits and pieces in a duffle bag. Looking over to his passenger, he shook his head. 'I bet Bones loves this crap,' he thought. 'All the squints loved this stuff. Ooze and bugs.'
Hodgins and the troop of interns had already left to grab a red-eye breakfast at the Royal Diner. Bones and Booth had stayed to take some additional photos to note how different the landscape would look at a different time of day – just in case. His partner was occupied with baggie of tiny vials, trying to see them in the pale, pink morning light. The sun was just over the Appalachians, and Booth certainly couldn't deny their beauty.
Coursing through the tiny access road, the wet sound of leaves caressing the sides of Booth Bureau-issued truck roared over the silence in the cab. The air conditioning was loud, and made a rusty clinking sound every so often. There would be no radio signal until they reached the main road. Bones cleared her throat, and then turned to face him. "Hey, Booth. Pull over. I have to pee," she requested. Booth was shocked by very little she said, "You can't wait until we get to civilization like everyone else?" "You were a sniper, Booth. When you have to go, you have to go," she bargained.
Seeing a flat spot ahead, Booth swung the large vehicle onto the shoulder. Bones leapt out before the engine stopped. Scurrying into the brush, Bones disappeared into the tall grass. Booth slipped from his side of the truck, taking a moment to stretch his tired limbs in the hot, cantaloupe-colored morning. August in Virginia was sweltering, even at this time of day. The humidity was the worst part, clinging to everything like hot breath on a mirror.
Emerging from the brush, Bones sighed deeply, offering her thanks and relief. Just shy of the passenger door, her foot lost traction, falling to the soft, muddy earth on her behind. "Ooomph," a dull pain radiated out from the impact. From this new angle Bones could see the trucks four wheels sinking. "Booth…" she called, warily, "we're going to need a tow." Reality brought him back harshly. "You're kidding," he groaned. Rounding the back of the truck, he saw his partner picking herself off the ground, the seat of his pants caked in wet earth and moss. Mindlessly dusting her knees, Bones pointed to the tires.
"Ugh! You've got to be kidding me! We're in the middle of nowhere on a Sunday morning," Booth complained. "I could've still made it to Mass before going to bed," he was whining now. "We can get out of this," he insisted. But the scientists put up her hands, "No. I am not enabling your macho behavior. You've already hurt your back twice this year." Bones opened the door, reaching for the radio, called in their location to the dispatcher, reading their position from the GPS device. Booth kicked a clump of dead grass, listening to Bones talking to the dispatcher. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it. They were in the middle of a swamp and the FBI surely wouldn't warrant a cavalry charging in. A contracted tow service would come – eventually.
Slipping from the cab, Bones smiled wryly. "It's going to be a couple hours. We're just supposed to 'sit tight'; whatever that means" reaching for the zipper on her gray-blue coveralls. Booth turned to open the back hatch in search of bottled water. He always kept some emergency goodies for Parker. Glancing up, he groaned to himself. 'Why, why would she be wearing that today,' he wondered, looking at Bones' apparel. The humidity clung to the tight men's undershirt she was wearing and the snug olive cargo pants, dipping dangerously low below her navel. 'It's hot and all she thinks about is practicality,' chiding himself with the answer. With an ungraceful flourish, she changed her shoes, balling the muddy coveralls and squashing the crusted boots into a plastic bag.
Booth held his breath, waiting for his partner to join him. Sure enough, Bones came around the truck, her heavy breasts bouncing dangerously beneath the thin tank top. With a loss for words, he silently offered her a bottle of water. She nodded graciously, and sat on the edge of the dry gravel path. "Booth, don't worry about it. This kind of stuff happens sometimes," she said, trying to erase the scowl from his face. "I know, I know. It's just annoying," he admitted, plopping down next to her. She smiled warmly, his short hair lay limp with the heavy moisture and his tanned skin seemed to sparkle.
"So what are we going to do until the tow truck gets here," Bones asked, drinking from the small plastic bottle. "Well, we could play a game. That might help the time pass," Booth suggested. Bones made a face, "What kind of game?" 'That's a good question,' he thought. Then, "Have you ever played 'Twenty-questions'?" She shook her head. "Okay, it's easy. We take turns asking each other a series of personal questions of our choosing," Booth explained. Bones cocked her head to the side, "What kind of strategy is there? How do you win?" Her questions were met with a hearty laugh. "It's not that kind of game, Bones. It's just for fun," he then added, "Maybe it'll be good for you. Suspend belief a little." Her face didn't change, "It sounds like one of Sweet's bonding exercises." Booth frowned at the mention of the psychologist's name. "No, it is nothing like that," he qualified.
Placing his water bottle between his feet, Booth shifted; then leaned back on his palms. "I'll go first, maybe it will help," this was far too complicated. "Okay. Why are daffodils you favorite flower?" it was benign, but maybe Bones would get the idea. "I don't understand, Booth," she chided, "Don't you know that with your FBI file on me?!" He started, then he corrected himself, "Well, I am sure I could figure it out, but humor me, for the sake of passing time." Brushing her arm over her forehead, Bones sighed. She would give into Booth's 'game.' "Well, they smell nice, and they're a bit different, you know?! Daffodils are more dimensional, I guess," it was a simple response. 'A good start' Booth thought.
"I ask you a question now?" Bones asked. Booth just nodded. "Alright…so what is the deal with the belt buckle," as she indiscreetly pointed to his pants. Suddenly, Booth felt hot, as though the steamy summer morning had previously been frigid. This was only her first question, but somehow, the focus on his crotch made him very aware again of how amazing the anthropologist looked, with her hair plastered in tiny ringlets along her face and neck. Booth realized he was staring. "I guess it's my way of feeling like myself even when I am supposed to fit in. It's like a car I am working on. There's a proper way of doing things, but even on a perfectly rebuilt classic, I might change the knobs of the door locks, maybe paint them red. Something really flashy, because it's an extension of myself," he smiled, looking at the gray and purple striped garments peeking out from the hem of his pants.
"I think I understand. This game is intended to strengthen bonds between peers through a series of questions with the purpose of discovering intimate knowledge through essentialized preferences and experiences," Bones smiled. Booth just shook his head, then tapped his partner on the forehead, "Do you ever turn that thing off?!" He laughed, but she just frowned. "Booth, the brain doesn't work way…" he cut her off with his finger. 'He just quieted me,' Bones thought. Without hesitation, she nipped the end of his offending phalange with her teeth. "Hey, Bones. Careful," Booth feigned anger. She shrugged, "You shouldn't have waved that thing in my face." Booth blushed for both of them. "Booth, it's getting hot out here, you should drink more water before you dehydrate," Bones suggested, unaware of her slip.
"Bones do you bite?!" Booth thought out loud. He suddenly wondered if this was a poor choice. "Booth, we both bite. Humans use their teeth to eat," her tone was flat, but her eyes were sparkling – Bones had tried to make a joke. Without skipping a beat, "Booth, do you think of me, as a reproductive female?" It was the kind of question he had hoped wouldn't have been discussed. "Bones, you're only on your second question. Is this really what you want to ask?" Booth hoped she would just leave it go. "It's not your turn. Do you ever think of having intercourse with me?" she pushed.
Booth looked up at the morning sky, now painted a buttery yellow. "Bones, I don't think there is a straight man on this earth that hasn't thought of you as a 'reproductive female" he dodged. "That's not an answer," Bones protested. He was becoming more uncomfortable, "Bones, what do you want me to say," he was looking deeply inter her eyes now, "that I have objectified you? That I fantasize about you?!" Her eyes were growing dark, but her face was blank. She was sorting him out, like an equation missing a function. His eyes narrowed, his face more flushed than before, flecks of honey gold glinted, like a tiger's excitedly stalking prey.
"Booth, there is no need to get upset. I thought we were playing a game," it wasn't to placate him. Her aloof nature had a tendency to push his buttons. "Bones, I can't imagine any man not thinking of you sexually. You're beautiful, and strong, and so smart. Yes, sometimes it's really hard trying to suppress those feelings around you," he gave in, hoping his honesty would move the conversation forward and away from this topic. His heart was pounding and his pants were suddenly too small. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and then she twisted to look down the road. Beads of sweat were forming on her skin, and the heat was already stifling. Dry dust clung to everything, the heavy moisture aiding in its adhesion. The once black SUV was coated with a brown-gray film. The air was still except for the occasional flurry of hot whirlwinds.
She turned back, her face serious and calm."Booth, I fantasize about you too. Does that make you less uncomfortable?" she asked. 'No. Absolutely not' Booth thought. His erection was growing, and he hoped his sitting position concealed it. But, he would have to respond. "Yeah, I guess it makes me feel better," he lied. The smile she gave him was a gift, and just as quickly as it came, it was gone. She leaned forward, snaking an arm under the back hem of her shirt. Booth realized all too late what she was doing "Wow, is it hot. It's not even six-o'clock yet." She tugged and the straps of her bra fell off of her shoulders. "Bones, what are you doing?!" Booth was very uncomfortable now.
Cocking her head to the side, she chided him, "Society doesn't expect you to wear one of these, so don't complain." Sliding her elbows through the fallen loops, and tugging with one hand, Bones retrieved a sweat-soaked bra from beneath her undershirt. Rising, she wandered to the front of the truck, her back to the dumbfounded agent. 'Lace. Why did it have to be lace?' He had a feeling that her return would absolutely bring disaster. For the second time today, he was right. Now unfettered, Bones breasts were dangerously sexy, swaying beneath the now transparent shirt. Dark shadows of her nipples were clear through the fabric. She couldn't have been sexier with still so much clothing on. She found her spot again, next to Booth, her gaze cast downward between her knees at a slow-marching June bug clinging to a dry piece of grass at her feet. Then, with a flutter, it was gone.
He took a deep breath. They would be waiting for a little while more; it had been barely an hour. 'Well, out of the frying pan and into the fire' Booth though wryly. "So, what kinds of fantasies do you have about me, Dr. Brennan?" Booth decided it was better just to humor her. She tossed her head back lazily, the now harden points of her nipples straining against the front of her shirt. "Well, it's kind of funny, given our situation, but I have always wanted to have sex in your truck," she laughed in spite of herself. Shaking the thought from her head, she sat up straight again, and turned to face him.
"Okay, well. Which do you like better from the diner: fries or onion rings," her question was appropriately inappropriate. Booth sucked in a deep breath, 'I'm going to Hell.' Grasping her head roughly, he kissed her hard.