D'angeli and I were chatting this afternoon about some of the spoilers floating around and in her infinite wisdom, she inspired this very rough & quick two-shot about our favorite folks. Blame her for the idea. Blame me for the story.


Her fingers wrapped tightly around the coffee mug, the warmth of the steaming liquid heating the ceramic and, by proxy, warming her fingers.

The aroma of the roasted beans tickled her nose and, as happened occasionally, her thoughts strayed to what she considered to be one of the few moments of contentment in her adult life.

She could tell he didn't usually mix business with pleasure.

His reticence was obvious in his kiss. But that didn't damper her enthusiasm; she traced his lips with her own with as much abandon as she felt.

He was, without a doubt, one of the most attractive male specimens she had ever met. And aside from his physical appearance, what she had experienced of his personality indicated a tendency to loyal, honest and responsible behavior that was truly attractive in its own right.

He always respected her intelligence, even when he disagreed. One wouldn't think that it would be hard to be respectful of her IQ, but in her experience a smart woman often intimidated a man.

But not him.

He reveled in it.

She remembered vividly how his breathing had become more labored when she traced her fingers across his warm skin, whispering the names of the bones in his ear.

"Scapula. Clavicle."

Her lips peppered his jaw line with gentle kisses and between each caress she whispered "Mandible" and "Maxilla." When she reached the shell of his ear, her breath teased the sensitive skin with the word "Pinna."

With every word, with every Latin inflection, she felt his fingers tremble where they gripped her hips.

He didn't run from her intelligence. He embraced it.

He embraced her.

Long after they had both satisfied their biological urges, he still embraced her.

She remembered rolling onto her side, watching the sky color with the vibrant sunrise through the window sheers. And she remembered the feel as he rolled to his side, curling his frame around hers. He had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

He had dipped his head and placed a delicate kiss against the back of her neck. And for the briefest of moments she had forgotten the word for that portion of the human anatomy. For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to revel in the very female, very instinctive feeling that came from being carefully cradled by your lover.

And now, as the warmth slowly left her mug of coffee, Brennan shook her head, as if to clear the memory away.

At one time, many years ago, they liked each other. And they allowed themselves to like each other.

At one time, many years ago, the line hadn't existed.