AN: Sorry if it took a while, but this is the first fic I finish and I wanted to make sure I did it right. Hope you guys enjoyed my story, I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thank you, Angie for being my beta, you helped me out a lot.



Booth was sitting at the counter at the diner, eating his breakfast, when a familiar female form sat down next to him.

"Good morning, cherie."

"Morning, Caroline."

"How's the case treating you?"

"Its kicking my ass."

"You know what to do."

"I don't want a partner!" Booth practically growled the words.

"Well, well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Your partner doesn't have to be FBI."

Booth snorted, "Who do you suggest? You?"

Caroline smacked him hard on the arm.


"Not me, Mr. Smart Ass! There's an Anthropologist at the Jeffersonian who's supposed to be brilliant. Solved a thousands year-old murder."

"I've had bad experiences with Anthropologists."

Caroline shot him a strange look, as Booth went back to his hash browns.

"Jenny! Bring me an order of donut holes and a coffee."

Caroline decided to drop the subject for now, instead she watched the mute TV in the corner. Suddenly, she saw something that made her call the waitress over.

"Jenny! Turn the volume up! Booth! Stop eating and watch the TV!"

"What? Why?"

"Just watch the TV!"

Booth reluctantly looked up at the TV and what he saw made him drop his hash browns laden fork. The woman of his dreams was being interviewed on the DC morning show.

"That's her! The Anthropologist I was telling you about! Dr. Temperance Brennan." Caroline turned to look at Booth, "Nuh uh! I know that look! Wipe that look off your face! You can work with her, but no sleeping with her! You keep Little Booth where he belongs, in your pants and out of her!"

"Caroline!" Booth hissed, as a mother at one of the tables shot him a dirty look.

"Promise me, Booth!"

"I promise to work with her, but I can't promise anything else." Booth said as he dropped money on the counter and ran out of the diner.

"Booth! Booth!" but Booth was already out the door, Caroline sighed, "That poor Anthropologist won't know what hit her."

Dr. Temperance Brennan was teaching her assistant, Zack, how to tell the order of gunshot wounds, when Angela walked in.

"Sweetie, I have a surprise for you."

"What is it, Ang? We're working."

"There's a man in your office who says he needs to speak with you."

"Who is it?"

"He won't say, just says he's an old teacher of yours."

"It's probably Michael, he emailed me a few months ago, saying that he would be in the area. Tell him to leave." Brennan brought her attention back to the bones and Zack, "See, how this fracture line intersects the fracture line from the other wound? Which wound occurred first?"

"Michael? As in the professor who was always trying to get into your pants? You didn't tell me he was so hot! I don't know why you didn't jump him!"

"Because he's a skivy porndog and a jerk besides."

"You mean a skeevy horndog?"

"Yes, exactly. Tell him that I'm working and cannot see him right now."

"Well, he said that he knows that you get absorbed in your work and that he'll wait in your office until you're finished."

"Fine, let him wait." But then the thought of Michael in her office. touching her artifacts, reading her manuscript, proved to be too much for Brennan to handle. "On the other hand, maybe its better if I kick him out myself."

Hodgins was coming over to complain about the mass spectrometer, when Brennan stalked right by him.

"Not now, Dr. Hodgins!"

"What's her problem?"

Angela answered him, "She's going to face her old horndog of a professor and I mean old as in former. Because that is one hot horndog! Whew!" added Angela as she fanned herself. "Let's go watch the fun."

Brennan walked into her office, expecting to see Michael sitting at her desk, but there was no one there. Instead a deep voice came from her couch.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, I presume."

Brennan spun around to look at what must surely be a hallucination. Just a figment of her imagination, produced by her overworked mind. She knew what happened, she'd fallen asleep on the platform again, she was immersed in one of her sex dreams again. The only time she saw him was in her dreams and her sex dreams only ever starred him. But the suit was new, he was usually dressed in fatigues, albeit not for long. He looked very good in the suit though, so who was she to argue what her subconscious dressed him in? He would be out of his clothes soon enough. He was sitting on the couch, his arms resting on the top of it, looking like he owned it, smiling that charm smile of his. She promptly ran to the couch and straddled him, pressing her mouth to his. His mouth opened and her tongue entered, their tongues dueled as she pressed her body to his. He felt so real.

Outside, stood three very confused Jeffersonian employees.

"I thought you said she hated him."

"It must not be Michael. He never said his name"

"He was her teacher? Dr. Brennan's my teacher."

"Not going to happen Zack." said Hodgins and Angela in unison.

"He looks too young to have been her teacher."

Suddenly, Angela remembered what Bren had told her about her first time,

"I gave it a lot of thought. I finally found a man who could provide a skillful introduction."

"Sweetie, you make it sound like a class."

"Well, he did teach me a lot."

"Oh, he's not that kind of teacher."

"What do you mean? What other kind of teacher is there?"

"C'mon boys, nothing to see here." she said pushing and pulling them away.

Booth broke the kiss, "Now that, is one heck of a welcome. I didn't know what to expect after 13 years, but it sure wasn't that."

"What?" Brennan was throughly confused.

"Now that we've picked up where we left off. I should tell you why I'm here. I work for the FBI now, homicide. It was recommended that I obtain a Forensic Anthropologist's help, specifically yours. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were here in D.C."

Brennan put up her walls again. This was real, and he was here in a professional capacity. She lifted herself off his lap and went to sit down at her desk. "Tell me about the case."

Booth recognized that he'd said something wrong. But he also knew that he had to give her time. He had to show her that this was more than just work.

Booth opened the door to his SUV for Brennan, which earned him a look of pure disdain.

"I'm perfectly capable of opening my own doors, Booth."

"I know that, Tempe. It's called being polite."

"Don't call me Tempe! I go by Dr. Brennan now."

"Aw, come on, surely an old friend like me can call you Tempe."

"We're in a working relationship now."

"We were always good at keeping work and pleasure separate."

"I might have been, but may I remind you of the incident with Michael."

"Now see, he was the one who couldn't keep things separate."


"So how is old Michael anyway?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't talk to him much."

"That's my girl!"

"I am not your girl!"

"No, you're no-one's girl are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was agreeing with you."

"No, you said it with a tone."

"What kind of tone?"

'"I don't know exactly but there was a tone!"

They continued bickering until they reached the morgue. Booth parked the car and before Brennan could unbuckle her seatbelt, he grasped her chin in his hand and kissed her.

"What was that?" she said when he released her.

"I wanted to make sure you remembered." he said against her lips.

"Remembered what?"

"That all that bickering is just our form of foreplay." he said as he got out of the car. Brennan was so bewildered that she let him open the door for her.

They solved the case that very day. The victim turned out to be Michael Stires. His life of pursuing his students had finally gotten the best of him. One of his newest conquests, found out she wasn't the only one participating in late night office hours, and killed him.

They were sitting in a bar, drinking tequila, and celebrating the successful end of the case. "That sucks about Stires."

"Yes, it does." However, Brennan's mind wasn't on Michael any more. The case was solved and now she could think on other things. Like Booth's behavior, if she was reading him correctly he seemed open to resuming a sexual relationship with her. Personally, she was curious to see if Booth really was the best she'd ever had or if it was simply her mind idealizing the experience. "So now that we've solved the murder, we don't work together anymore, right?"

Booth looked disappointed, "Yeah, I didn't know you wanted to get rid of me so fast. I thought we could catch up some more."

"I think we've caught up all we can, for now. I was thinking, since we don't work together anymore, we can catch up in my bedroom."

Booth immediately brightened, "I'll call a cab."

"No, its a nice night and I live close by. Let's walk."

"Sounds just like old times."

Brennan's hands were wrapped around the bars of her headboard. Booth was definitely as good as she remembered, if not better. The bed creaked and squeaked in time with their rhythm. Booth was pounding into her, his mouth on her breasts, setting all of her nerve endings on fire. Her moans were getting louder and longer, bringing him closer and closer. She reached the summit first, her hands clenched and her body arched as she screamed his name. Booth heard her scream and felt her tighten around him and he peaked right after her. As he pounded into her faster in his climax, Brennan's orgasm continued.


"Oh, baby I missed you so much!" he yelled as he collapsed.

In the afterglow, Brennan said something she instantly regretted.

"That was much better than the dreams I've had of you."

Booth turned his head to look at her, but she turned her face away from him. So he put his mouth to her ear, "You want to know a secret? I dream about you too. Almost every night."

She turned to look at him in disbelief, trying to search his face for the truth.

"And you know what else? I want to work with you, and be in your bed. Because now that I've found you I'm never going to let you go again."