Laughing during Sex

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Now that Booth and Brennan have finally hooked up, why will no one believe that they're actually together… and to what lengths will they have to go to prove it? Fluff and smut abound. Set during season 4. AU.

Chapter 3 – Playing a Role

Booth was flustered, and Brennan absolutely loved it.

He'd been that way since Booth had stalked off from their conversation with Henry Simon after Brennan's offer of a Russian knife throwing act had gotten them an official invitation to join the circus. Walking towards their mobile home, he'd thrown open the door and waited only long enough to hold it so that Brennan could enter ahead of him before he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and prepared to summon help. As he stood in the middle of the trailer that would serve as their home for the next few days―he shuddered to think of what it might be like for them in such a tight space if their undercover work lasted over a week―he attempted to get Sweets on his cell phone. The hideousness of the garish red and blue logo that was scrawled on the side of the trailer and proclaimed their act―BUCK AND WANDA MOOSEJAW'S KNIVES OF DEATH―still made his head hurt more than just a little bit. He'd given the techs in his field detail specific instructions, and the trailer of the Canadian Moosejaws was the best that they had come up with in such a short period of time.

While he dialed the number, he scowled at Brennan, shaking his head slightly over the fact that his partner and girlfriend had ruined his opportunity to come up with a really good act but for her impromptu opening of her very big mouth. For her part, Brennan seemed very positive and upbeat.

"Russian?" he asked for what seemed the hundredth time in the short span of the two minutes that had gone by since they'd entered the trailer, repeating the same question that he'd asked as soon as they'd gone inside. His normally handsome face puckered into a scowl of irritated displeasure. Even as his nostrils began to flare slightly, his angular jaw tightened while his brow furrowed in clear physical response to his current unhappiness. "You had to pick Russian?" he complained to Brennan, trying to make the crux of his displeasure known in case she'd missed it the first time (and, given the fact that she'd yet to respond aside from smiling, he believed, in fact, that she had missed it).

Determined not to dignify his petulant behavior, Brennan decided to ignore Booth's body language and abrupt mood shift. Instead, she focused on what was the more important point, i.e., that they'd needed a cover story for their act, she'd come up with one on the spur of the moment when she rarely lied so convincingly on demand, and on top of everything else, it was a damn good idea.

"I know," she nodded, some of her excitement at having come up with such a good and very workable idea on such short notice creeping into her voice. "Brilliant, right?" she gestured with her arm at him, her blue eyes appearing an even darker shade of blue thanks to the darker shade of the brunette wig she was wearing and the black kohl eyeliner that rimmed her eyes She again ignored Booth who was still holding the cell phone to his ear even as he rolled his eyes at her. "It just popped into my head."

Pointing at her, Booth responded, "You know what? Don't pop things, Bones." After another minute, the FBI agent's facial expression changed again as the FBI profiler finally answered his office extension. "Sweets!" he exclaimed, skipping any formal greetings. Jumping right to the reason that he'd called, Booth asked, "What the hell is a first of May?"

Booth had taken the liberty of putting Sweets on speaker phone so that Brennan could hear his responses as he walked to the table and set the cell down in front of where Brennan had sat down. Sweets' answer came fast.

"A newbie," Sweets clarified. "A rookie."

Considering his information, Brennan asked, "Why would a little person be referred to as a 24-hour man?"

This time, Brennan appeared not to be as lucky as Booth had been when he'd asked his question. She would've sworn that she could almost hear the actual shift that took place in Sweets' mental processes as soon as she'd spoken. She could picture him in his office, tense and on the edge of his chair as he endured Booth's pointed questioning. However, as soon as she'd spoken, she imagined that his body had relaxed, he'd leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the armrests, slouching slightly as a seemingly indulgent look cracked his face. Brennan knew her brow had furrowed when she'd noticed the shift. It only became worse as a frown crossed her face when she heard Sweets' response.

"Oh, had a little trouble with the lingo, huh?" He paused only a beat―barely long enough for Brennan to formulate an appropriate response, let alone open her mouth and verbalize it, as she watched Booth peer suspiciously out their blinds―before Sweets continued. "He is the advanced person, he goes to town ahead of the circus and sets everything up," he explained. Brennan stared at Booth for a minute, the two of them having an unspoken exchange as she let her partner how much the psychologist could annoy her while Booth's automatic response was to 'lighten up'. Sighing, Brennan tilted her head at Booth as Sweets continued speaking, "If you like, I could e-mail you a lexicon."

Blinking at the cell phone that Booth held in his hand, Brennan was mildly surprised when Sweets not only said something that didn't annoy her, but also seemed to be a suggestion that had some merit. "I would certainly appreciate that," she responded with a nod to confirm her words, even though she knew it was somewhat repetitive and ineffective since Sweets couldn't see her gesture.

"Sure," Sweets replied. He was quiet for a minute, and Brennan could again sense some type of shift on his part. She looked at Booth in curiosity as he too seemed to notice the change of tone in Sweets' voice. "Ummmm…" he began. "Can I offer a piece of advice?"

Booth only refrained from rolling his eyes since Sweets wasn't there to see it. Instead, he said, "Well…that's why we called you, Sweets."

"Don't try too hard to be their friends," came the instant response, a bit of confidence coming into Sweets' voice as he took Booth's statement as the permission it was to say his piece. "Act like you're more interested in each other than any of them, alright?" He continued. "I mean, I know it'll be difficult since you and Dr. Brennan are just partners. But, if you can tap into the feelings of friendship that you have for one another, and can in some way focus those feelings of camaraderie, it might be a long shot, but there's a small chance that you can make the other circus performers believe that you two are really married to one another. Then, if all goes well, they will come to you," he added as almost an afterthought.

Again, Brennan was somewhat surprised by Sweets' comments, as seemingly insightful as they appeared to be. Then again, she thought. It's not really surprising because his comments almost are more of an ethnographical type than a psychological nature. So, it stands to reason that such information would be inherently more useful…helpful, almost. Silently nodding her approval, Brennan was genuine in her response as she said, "Okay. Thanks, Sweets."

She looked up at Booth to see if he would add anything. Instead, when he didn't even bother to say his own goodbyes to Sweets, but had let Brennan's words act as a dismissal for the psychologist, she knew something was bothering him. She watched as Booth hit the 'end' button and then heard him sigh as he tossed the phone back on the table. As he turned, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. However, it was only when he'd turned all the way around to face her that Brennan saw that he'd unconsciously hooked both thumbs in the pockets of his dark blue jeans near where the two large knives he used as props in their impromptu audition were strapped in a belt around his waist. As he splayed his remaining fingers in a fan-like shape along the curve of his hips, Brennan came to the conclusion that he had a rather focused look on his face because she realized that something was distracting him. When he began to stare at a random spot on the trailer's far wall, and then started to chew on his bottom lip, knowing him as she did, she could tell that he'd begun to work through some issue he'd identified as a potential problem. He seemed to be struggling with, she supposed, how best to implement Sweets' directive. However, as his brain did mental circles as he tried to problem solve their issue, one part of her mind was trying to understand why such a simple issue would be causing him any definable measure of consternation.

Sweets said that we needed to act more interested in one another than any of the other circus performers, Brennan thought. That's easily enough done since, on a professional level, I value Booth's varied skills and well-informed opinions more than any other person here. In addition, on a personal level, my intense physical attraction and extreme affection for Booth make it very easy to not be distracted by other individuals here. Ergo, if we just act as we normally do around one another, that should satisfy the conditions implied by Sweets' advice. It really isn't that difficult.

"Booth―" Brennan began, intent on telling him that he was making their situation far more complicated than it needed to be―a somewhat ironic statement, she knew, since he was usually the one telling her that.

Looking over at Brennan, he answered, "Yeah?"

"Stop doing that," she responded.

Booth smacked his lips together for a minute before he responded, "Doing what?"

"I know you're moderately annoyed and/or frustrated with me because I possibly co-opted some of your prerogatives with my suggestion of our act being Russian in nature. And, since I also know that that you might construe such actions on my part as a potential usurpation of your ability to dictate all aspects of our cover story while we're undercover on a case, I realize that you might not be happy about what happened. However, that's no reason to make things more difficult than they need to be. Sweets' advice is surprisingly useful, and, I believe, fairly simplistic to implement. As such, there's no need for you to wrestle with how to formulate a plan that considers how best to put into practice his counsel."

"Oh, really?" Booth asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes," Brennan said with a short shake of her head.

"Okay, Bones," he nodded at her. "I know I'm probably gonna regret this, but what the hell? It's not like it wouldn't be the first time. I'll bite. If I don't need to come up with a plan on what to do next because…why? You've got one already for us?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Right," he sighed. "So, then…" He stared at her expectantly. When Brennan just stared back, he prompted her, "You gonna tell me then, Bones, or do I have to guess? Because, you know I hate it when you do that to me. I know you get off on tossing me a curveball that sets off a deluge of puzzling open-ended questions that usually amuses/confounds me because you reap some kinda psychic revenue from watching me struggle with these mind-bending questions of yours, but cut me some slack, huh?"

Brennan frowned at his slight rant, not certain if she should be mildly offended at his summation of one aspect of one of the ways in which she communicated with him. Then, lest she get distracted, she filed the set of comments away for later analysis. Instead, she decided to focus on the primary issue at hand, as she told him, "I believe the best way we can convince the other circus performers that we're more interested in one another than anyone else is to project an air of complete physical and sexual occupation with each other."

Staring at her for a moment, Booth processed Brennan's statement as he translated her wordiness. "So, you…want us to make out in front of them or something?" he asked, considering the idea not necessarily to be a bad one, though he didn't particularly like the fact that he hadn't thought of it first.

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "Extensive public displays of affection would serve a dual purpose for us here. First, it would allow us to convince the circus performers that they are of little interest to us since we only care about one another. Second, it would give us an opportunity to perfect techniques we might be able to utilize to better convince people in our own lives, at the Jeffersonian and the Hoover, that is, that we are, in fact, in a committed long-term monogamous relationship and have been for some time."

Making a slight face, Booth's lips twisted as he thought about her points. "While I'm the first one whose up for a little makeout time, Bones, and I think it might take of Sweets' point, I'm not sure how well it's gonna work for your second thingy there. I mean, it's not like Sweets and some of the squints haven't already caught us playing tonsil hockey or me grabbing your ass when I thought no one was looking in lab."

"Be that as it may," Brennan told him, "I still think it's a sound plan. In fact, I think we may have to become more intense in our displays of public affection. Besides kissing me, feel free to grope either my breasts or the muscles of my gluteal groupings at will."

"Done," Booth dead-panned as he stared straight at her and tried to keep a serious look on his face. Awesome, he thought. She just ordered me to feel her up in public whenever I wanted. Damn, she's good. If I didn't love that woman already, I think that Cupid would've just hit me with one of those 'true love' bolts of his smack dab in my kisser. That's just…she's just. Awesome. So friggin' awesome. "What else?"

"Well," Brennan said, not picking up on the fact that Booth was trying very hard not to give her a dumb grin because she'd just told him to cop a feel topside or to pat her ass whenever he wanted. "I still think, since this is our first day among the former co-workers of Jenny and Julie Hicks, that we should make a strong statement. You only get a single chance to make a good and lasting first impression."

"So," Booth said, knowing he was probably going to hate himself for asking, since he knew Brennan tended to get wordy when she was slightly nervous telling him something. "You want to do what to set 'em up with by making some kind of statement that screams we're self-centered, self-involved uber-sex starved horndogs?"

Her brow furrowing a bit at Booth's words, Brennan asked, "Horndogs?"

This time it was Booth who shot Brennan a look as it was his turn to tell her, "Don't do that."

"What?" Brennan asked. "I don't know what that―"

"Yes, you do," Booth said. "You do because I know that I've already explained it to you a gazillion times in the past year plus."

"Technically," she countered. "Gazillion isn't any true quantifiable number. As such―"

"Bones," Booth growled. "Cut it out."

Knowing that she was caught, Brennan rolled her eyes as she said, "I'm still not 100% accurate from where you've derived that slang, but I suppose I take the general ideas conveyed by the euphemism."

"Thank you," Booth nodded at her. "Now, in plain English, what do you want us to do to make your statement for the circus freaks?"

After he'd finished asking his question, Booth's eyes locked with Brennan…and it happened so quickly, he thought he'd imagined it at first. It was as if, in the span of thirty seconds, a complete shift of persona had happened. And, in that time, the forensic anthropologist who was his partner disappeared. In her place, stood his girlfriend. And, if he wasn't mistaken…she had a weird look in her pale blue eyes. It was a strange look that he'd seen before…since it usually preceded a look that left no doubt in his typical male mind that she was horny and ready to jump his bones.

Brennan narrowed his eyes as she asked silently: What?

His unspoken response came instantly: Seriously?

She tilted her head as she smiled: You were the one who brought it up.

His brow crinkled in confusion: I did?

She nodded slightly: Indeed.

He shook his head: Did not. You were the one who brought up sex…and started talking about me grabbing your tits and ass anytime I want to.

She frowned slightly: Technically, you're correct. But, you were the one who mentioned being horny.

He scowled again: Only because you brought it up first. Either way, it's not happening, Bones.

She tilted her head at him and asked: Why not?

"Because," he suddenly said, breaking their wordless tennis match. "We're working here, Bones. We're on the clock."

"No," she insisted. "Technically, we're not. We're Buck and Wanda Moosejaw. We work on our own schedules. And, right now, on the advice of one of our co-workers, we've been told that we should act more carnal with one another―"

"Now, wait just a damn minute," Booth said. "Sweets didn't say anything of the sort about you and me getting it on. He's one of the main tools that still doesn't think that you and I are more than partners, remember?"

"He inferred it," Brennan said, dismissing his later point and concentrating on the first issue that he'd raised. "You know he did, Booth."

"No way," Booth said. "Now, look here, Bones. You know me. I can be ready to go just about any time you want to…but, this isn't the time or the place. We're here on the fed's dime, so I don't think it's right for us to start trying to bang one another less than a half hour after we've gotten out into the field. Plus…it's daytime. And…if the trailer starts rocking, and they know not to come a'knocking, then everyone will know that we were having sex―"

"So?" Brennan interrupted him, obviously confused by his reluctance to have sex with her. "We want them to know that we were having sex. Logically, it would be foolish just to simulate the sounds and sights for them to see. Although, technically, if someone could witness us during coitus―"

"No way!" Booth choked, turning a bit red at the thought. "There's no fucking way I'm fucking you in front of an audience. No way, Bones. So, just get that crazy idea out of your head now―and I do mean that because you're freakin' loony tunes if you think that's hapening―we aren't having sex in front of the circus freaks. I mean, it's the middle of the afternoon, and we're in the middle of the desert with a bunch of strange circus peoples…that, need I remind you, Sweets understands…so that should say how weird they really are. We just…this isn't like you and me coming home from the lab and the Hoover for a nooner, Bones. It's different, and it doesn't work for me. So….yeah. That's that. Got it?"

Brennan licked her lips, noting the way that the way the dark color of the suspenders he wore over the white sleeves cotton t-shirt he had on emphasized his broad shoulders. She narrowed her eyes as she said, "Fine, Booth. We won't have sex in public."

"Oh, thank God," Booth sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit as he took a deep breath and relaxed when he realized that Brennan wasn't going to pick a fight about the crazy hairbrained idea that she'd somehow came up with in her genius, but warped brainspace. "Great. That's just great."

"Although, I must confess, I'm more than slightly confused about your sporadic bouts of prudishness―" she began to tell him.

"You know I'm not a prude!" Booth cut her off.

"Especially considering the fact we were in a very public place when I gave you that blow job on the plane to Beijing last month," Brennan said. "As a matter a fact, I seem to recall that you were the one who initiated that particular encounter with your little quip about me being a dirty librarian."

Booth chewed his bottom lip again before he conceded, "Well, I didn't think you actually go for it and slam me up against a wall and start sucking me off before I'd even realized my pants and boxers were down around my ankles."

"Be that as it may," Brennan continued. "With regards to our current situation, we won't have sex in front of an audience," Brennan continued. "But, we are going to have sex now, Booth. I find that―considering the fact that we've spent the past fifteen minutes about being sexually aroused,, combined with the rather pleasing cumulative effects that your current attire had on your appearance, has…to use a phrase I know you'll understand, 'turned me on'―I want to take this opportunity to engage in sexual intercourse with you. Now, I assume I'm not going to have to tackle you again and have your pants and boxers down around your ankles again before you start to comply, do I?"

Booth stared at Brennan. Brennan stared at Booth. And, when she gave him a sly smile that had gotten him into so much trouble (albeit wickedly awesome trouble that he never regretted because of who she was) over the years, he knew she'd just scored a checkmate on him. He took in the sight of her―her breathing already growing a bit shallow as her creamy pale skin flushed a barely discernable pink―and nodded his agreement as a slightly toothy grin cracked his face. He felt a small twitch in his groin as her eyes looked him over from head to toe and back again, stopping mid-chest as she focused on his suspenders.

"I shouldn't have worn the suspenders, huh?" he asked, as she took at step towards him.

"Probably not," she grinned at him with a shake of her head. "At least, from the perspective of ensuring that I didn't get distracted from our case and tempt you into having sex with me."

She reached out, grabbed the hem of the red vest he'd worn, and began to unbutton it from the button up. Booth watched her with clear interest, his eyes moving as he stayed glued to every move she made. When she pushed the vest off of his shoulders and let it fall to the ground in a whoosh of fabric, using her index finger, she lift one of the suspenders slightly off of his shoulder. With Brennan now standing only a few inches away from him, when he took a deep breath, he caught a whiff of her hair, smelling the scent of her apple-scented shampoo that he'd gotten her a few weeks earlier.

"That smells like the Apple Cider shampoo I bought you, Bones," Booth said, his voice having dropped half-an octave as he looked at her through heavy lidded eyes.

"Yes," she nodded. "It is. You like it?"

"I spent eighteen bucks on a bottle for you," he growled. "So, if that doesn't tell you something…well, it's the closest thing I can get to you smelling like apple pie," he said, as he pulled her towards him, wrapping his right arm around her back. "So, yeah. I like it. It smells fucking awesome."

"I'm sure my own natural body chemistry has enhanced the appeal of the shampoo's scent, Booth. Since you're sexually attracted to me, my pheromones combine to―" Brennan was cut off as Booth leveled an intense stare at her.

"Bones?" he asked when she let her sentence trail off unfinished.

"Yes, Booth?" she replied.

"If you want me to get in the mood and stay there, it might be a good idea for you not to talk me to death, huh?" he nodded at her.

For her part, Brennan could only chuckle lightly in response.

It was then that Booth decided not to waste an opportunity―since one had presented itself with his partner and girlfriend having voluntarily stopped talking―and he palmed the fleshy curve of her ass in his hand as he leaned in and kissed her.

It was a kiss that surprised both of them in different ways. For Booth, a small portion of his brain was still amazed, even after a year and a half of having been with Brennan in a more-than-just-partners-kind-of-way, that she could render him into a primal, grunting cave man. As she pressed her body up against his, brushing her ample breasts against his chest, he could feel the tightness of her taut nipples against his skin through the thinness of his cotton t-shirt. He opened his mouth wider in response as he groaned, and Brennan took advantage of his movement by turning her head to the side and slipping her tongue into the warm wetness of his mouth. She made a quick swipe of the perfectly even line of his upper row of teeth―something that she'd always appreciated, despite the fact that he'd shared some of the horrors he suffered as a teenager when he'd worn braces to correct his crooked teeth. When she reached the end of the row, she slid her tongue underneath his jaw and slithered it along the outer perimeter of his tongue. It was only when she reached the back of his tongue that she flipped her own tongue from where it had skated along his tongue's profile and began to wrestle with him in earnest. He used his hands to massage the swell of her ass, and he was just beginning to enjoy the building tightness in his groin as Brennan moved to grind her lips against him when the world suddenly shifted. One minute, they were upright. The next, they'd toppled onto the bed as Brennan pushed them down in what even Booth had to admit was a rather skillful logistical move, especially since she'd been able to pull it off by catching a guy like him off guard. For her, a small part of Brennan's brain was surprised that she hadn't totally gone completely primal on Booth the moment she felt his hardness pressing against her upper thigh.

Booth couldn't believe he was doing this.

And, in a way, neither could Brennan.

Despite his earlier protestations in London some months before that he was most definitely not going to schedule sex, on the advice of their shrink―at least, advice from a certain perspective―it seemed as if Brennan how now penciled them in for sex. And, the thing that amazed him was that she'd done it in a way that Booth couldn't tell if was, in fact, accurate to categorize it as having been planned or so spontaneous that it was faster than a spur-of-the moment kind of thing.

Lifting herself up off of him, Booth gave Brennan a particular goofy grin as she ended their kiss.

When she stared at him, his pink tongue lolling at the side of his mouth, she seemed to be hesitating.

Smiling at her, Booth nodded, "So, ummm, sex…right?"

Chuckling, Brennan replied, "Oh, good idea."

"Okay," he laughed.

In a manner of less than two minutes, Brennan had divested herself of her own clothing—quite happy to finally be out what what she considered to be a very ugly, if culturally appropriate blue patterned dress—while she'd then proceeded to strip Booth in a particularly ruthless way that he'd not only enjoyed, but had made him even harder. She only paused once, when she felt him start to press up into him, in a particularly pleasurable way, as she said in a breathy voice, "What I think we need to do is get a synco-pated rhythm going that takes advantage of the natural frequency of the springs." She started to rock underneath him, using a much greater level of force than she normally did as she tried to get the bed to squeak underneath them.

Booth laughed as he saw her exaggerated movements. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, whoa!" he said lifting up a hand to stop Brennan because she was going to make him laugh as much as screw up the normal rhythm they normally fell into when they had sex. "Are you this spontaneous during real sex?" he asked her, tilting his head as his eyes twinkled at her.

For her part, Brennan knew that Booth was teasing her. Realizing that he had a point, and that they would accomplish both the goals of letting the trailer rock so the circus performers would know they were having sex and making it enjoyable for both of them, Brennan slowed down. She shot Booth a look as she said, "Yes, I am. And, aren't you the lucky one for it, too, huh?"

Booth's answer came with a sharp thrust of his hip towards her as he rolled them over and proceeded to show her that he, too, could be spontaneous in sex when he wanted to be. He punctuated his point by reaching down and coasting his finger tips along the smooth skin of Brennan's exposed side as he lightly ticked her at almost the same moment he slid inside her. Brennan let out a loud yelp, a laugh that quickly morphed into a groan of pleasure before she bucked her hips towards him. From that point on, the trailer rocked for a fairly long time without either occupant ever really trying to exaggerate the motion merely for the point of putting on a 'show' for the locales.

Booth stared at her, his heavy-lidded dark brown eyes watching her in clear suspicion. After a minute, he grunted, shook his head, opened his mouth, and began to tear open the plastic tube of chocolate chip cookie dough that he held in his hand with his teeth. Brennan watched in amusement when, after a minute, he'd bitten through enough of the plastic to reach some of the raw cookie dough inside. Once he'd taken a big mouthful of the cookie dough, chewed it for no more than four or five seconds, he gulped it down in a large swallow.

He then smacked his lips, as he pointed at her using the remnants of the cookie dough tube, and muttered through a mouth still sticky with the impromptu sweet snack, "Just…so…you…know, this is complete and utter bullshit, Bones. And…I mean that…in the nicest way possible. Just…FYI."

Blinking at him for a minute, Brennan drew back one of her legs and then kicked forward to get enough momentum to throw herself up out of the small bed. The flush of air that caressed her naked body as she got up felt wonderful against the warm stickiness that permeated her skin in their post-coital period of interplay. The thin sheen of sweat that had gathered on her body made it glisten in the fading afternoon light that trickled through various points in the trailer's covered doors and windows. She knew she looked particularly attractive, her hair mussed, her lips bee stung, and her body flushed a bright pink from the fading glow of the three orgasms she'd had in rapid success.

Stalking towards him, she took particular care to arch her back in a way that she knew he particularly appreciated, before she walked up to him and rubbed her still pert nipples against his naked chest. His half-full mouth opened partway into a partial o-shape as he groaned a bit at her teasing of him.

"I find it hard to take that point seriously," she said, her voice a low and throaty drawl, her throat unintentionally raspy from the way she'd groaned herself raw during the course of their lovemaking, "especially when it's coming from a man who's shoving his face full of a high caloric poor snack choice―that has the high potential to result in salmonella poisoning since that cookie dough contains raw egg yolk, as I've pointed out to you many, many times before―just because he's got the post-sex munchies."

"Fuck salmonella," Booth growled. "It tastes good, and I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry after sex," Brennan countered. "Which is why I suggested that you pack several tubes of the Pringles that you like and a few of the over-processed pseudo-beef jerky Slim Jim sticks you like instead of putting yourself at risk for acute food poisoning…again."

"Har, har, har," Booth snickered, the mocking clear in his voice as he nodded at her. "Just for the record, I did bring the Pringles and Slim Jims, but I don't want those right now, okay? I want something sweet―"

"Because you're like a female in the post-coital phase," Brennan sighed. "You always have been, and I'm beginning to think you might always will be. I'd initially thought, you know, that perhaps it was my fault if I contributed to establishing a pattern the time I brought those glazed donuts home from the lab, and we consumed them in bed shortly after we'd commenced our sexual relationship. However, I'm far wiser to the fact that your fascination and utter romantic relationship with all types of preprocessed salty and sugary foods significantly predates our association."

"Squint my snack preferences to death all you want, Bones," Booth said through another mouthful of raw cookie dough. "I still ain't giving them up, and I still say this is utter bullshit."

"Why?" she blinked at him.

"Because," he muttered. "You laughed. Twice. Once, right after I slid into you for the first time. And, again, right before you came. You laughed…a lot. There's no doubt about it this time. That was a Bonesy squeal of epic proportions, ergo, that means this point should go to me. Score Team Booth."

"Nope," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "No way."

"Okay, Bones," Booth said, nodding at her indulgently. "Go ahead."

"What?" she asked him.

"Go ahead and dazzle me with your rationalization over how you're gonna try to get out of this one," he responded. "Lemme hear it. I wanna see how creative you're gonna get."

"It's simple really," she said. "Even if I did laugh―and I'm not saying I did―but if I did laugh, it doesn't count for a point because I'm not Dr. Temperance Brennan right now. And, you're not Special Agent Seeley Booth. We're actually Wanda and Buck Moosejaw. Ergo, Buck might've made Wanda laugh. But, Booth didn't make Brennan laugh. So, you don't get a point."

Booth stared at her for a long moment. He then scowled as he said, "That's bullshit, Bones."

"Be that as it may," Brennan said, her eyes alight in satisfaction. "It's the truth. So, tough. Too bad. Deal with it."

"No way," Booth said, becoming more than slightly annoyed at his partner. "You're not winning this one on a technicality. You laughed during sex. I get the point."

"Nope," she laughed again. "You don't."

"You aren't going to win this bet on a technicality, Bones," Booth said, pointing at her with his free hand, stabbing the air in front of her with his index finger. "No damn way that's happening."

Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan said in a saucy voice, "Of course, if you'd like to try again, Booth, clearly establishing your identity and mine before we engage in a subsequent sexual encounter, you're not only free to do so, but I actually actively encourage you to do so."

Booth stared at her for another long minute, and then tossed the remnants of the cookie dough onto the counter and stalked towards her. "Fine," he said, moving towards her with a distinctly predatory look in his eyes. By the time he'd cornered her, pressed his body up against hers, and muttered, "Me Booth. You Bones. We have awesome sex. You laugh. I win"…well, Brennan was too far gone in laughter to concede that Booth had found a very useful way to get her to laugh. But, he'd again tricked himself out of a point in their bet on yet another technicality since they hadn't had sex yet. Forunately, for Brennan, she was more than happy to let Booth continue to try to get her to laugh that night…again, and again, and…again.

Several days later, Booth and Brennan had awoken to yet another hot Texan morning sunrise after they'd solved the murders of Jenny and Julie Hicks. Stumbling out of their trailer, the sight that greeted their eyes was only slightly surprising, but also very welcome since it meant they could finally go home.

"They're gone," Brennan observed, stating the obvious for lack of a better statement to make. She sipped a cup of the Dunkin' Donuts coffee that Booth had made, using the beans he brought with him from home, but also during a time when he'd bitched for five straight minutes about how the coffee would probably taste like crap anyway since he was working with a travel percolator that had been new in the Sears Roebuck annual catalog of 1955.

"Yeah," Booth nodded, as he looked around what was now an abandoned campground.

"We slept through it?" Brennan questioned him.

Nodding at her, Booth answered, "Yeah." Suddenly, a small gust of wind caused a piece of paper to rustle near them. Booth grabbed it and smiled when he realized what it was. "Look at that." He then read, "Boris and Natasha and their Russian Knives of Death." Looking over at Brennan, he smiled as he said, "Guess we all got it in us because I would have run off and joined the circus."

Taking a step closer, Brennan glanced at the paper and nodded, "We did it."

Booth gave her an affective peck on the cheek as he said, "Buck and Wanda were damn good."

As he pulled away, Brennan smirked slightly as she said, "Buck was more dashing than you." Booth gave her a look that Brennan countered by saying, "I mean Buck, drove a motorcycle."

"Well, Wanda was funner than you," Booth volleyed back.


"Well," he said again. "She let me knock off a rubber nose from her face with a knife. You would never let me do that. You are way too rational."

Brennan knew Booth was teasing her, and so instead of egging him on, she merely leaned up and gave her partner a soft kiss on the lips. She melted into him for a minute, and when they pulled apart, he wrapped an arm around her hips as they stared at the empty distance that stood in front of them.

"Where do you think they are now?" she asked.

"Over the horizon," he answered thoughtfully.

"Oh?" Brennan asked as she turned her head to look at him. "So, where does that leave us, then, Buck?"

"Simple, Wanda," Booth grinned. "Going home so some fellow named Booth can score an official point over his girl."

Laughing, Brennan shook her head, "Good luck with that one then. I think you're going to need it."

For his part, Booth merely squinted at her once, scowled lightly, and then laughed as he pulled her towards him and accepted her implied challenge by sealing the deal with one more kiss before they went back inside the trailer, ready to be, as Booth had said, home once more.


Author's Note: Just in case anyone's wondering, one of my favorite (if not the favorite) episodes of season 4 is coming up next. Agent Peyton Perotta might just finally see our favorite duo in a compromising situation that could have unintended consequences for their bet. Stay tuned!