Gum's 55 Word Challenge- Oneshots. Won't go above "T" rating

Gum, I've never read a description of one of Brennan's kisses quite like this...

Skipping all manner of pretense, she’d shoved her tongue right in. Proving that she could use it to drive him crazy in more than one way.

...that tickled me soo much! I could just see Booth kinda putting it in reverse saying, "Whoa there, little lady."

Very nice. I loved their first date.

Limbo

Dr. Zack Addy was uncertain as to why- after so long- he had felt the compulsion to correct the psychologist's erroneous conclusion. It had not freed him and he suspected that D. Sweets was not pleased with having to conceal the truth from their friends.

Long after he had been returned to his quarters he contemplated whether or not he truly would have killed had he been given the opportunity. He was uncertain. Yes, he had been operating under faulty logic at the time and he hadn’t had any reservations about provided the man’s location; however, as Dr. Sweets had pointed out, he had not been required to physically commit the murder. The more he thought of what his actions would’ve had to have been, the less he believed he could have gone through with it.

In the end, though, he concluded that it didn’t matter. He was an accessory to murder, but not in jail; a psychiatric patient, but far from insane; and- like the bones he had hidden at his master’s bidding- in limbo.

DBCrazy wrote:Gum, I've never read a description of one of Brennan's kisses quite like this...

Skipping all manner of pretense, she’d shoved her tongue right in. Proving that she could use it to drive him crazy in more than one way.

...that tickled me soo much! I could just see Booth kinda putting it in reverse saying, "Whoa there, little lady."

Very nice. I loved their first date.

Happy to please. I love writing aggressive Brennan

“Do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“Well I don’t.”

“I’m not going to your funeral again.”

“Good to know.”

“Surely, the Bureau must have a policy regarding this.”

“Surely, I don’t care.”

“You said that already.”

“Good to know you’re keeping score.”

“This isn’t a sporting event.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you could make it one.”

“Only because you are so stubborn, and don’t think I’ve forgotten my original point.”

“Never.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t say, ‘nothing’ because I heard something and saw your lips move.”

Silence.

“There did my lips move enough for you?”

“For now; though I’m still not convinced that you should be above the law.”

“I am the law, Baby.”

“Just let me do it for you, and don’t call me Baby!”

“Uh, Bones, that’s not the right buckle.”

Family

"Bones?" he called out as he tentatively entered her apartment.

He' been knocking on the door, knowing she was inside, and when she didn't answer right away he had finally resorted to using his key.

"I'll be out in approximately eight minutes," her voice floated to him from down the hall.

"Okay," he grinned at her precision, shucking his jacket and tossing it over the nearest chair while losing his shoes in deference to her hardwood floors.

Taking stock of his surroundings, he noted that her kitchen looked like a food bomb had gone off in it. Delicious scents mingled from the oven and stovetop, causing his stomach to rumble in anticipation. Without a second thought he rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, slung a dishtowel over his shoulder, and started cleaning. He was finishing up the last counter when she emerged.

"You don't have to do that," she chided lightly, taking the rag from him.

"I wanted to," he smiled back, then quipped, "but since you were late and all…"

"Late?" her face scrunched in confusion.

"It took you eleven minutes," he nodded at the clock, tone serious. "Three minutes late, Bones. Way to treat a guy on his birthday."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a small shove.

"Violence, Dr. Brennan," he clucked, "very unbecoming." He waited a beat, "Guess I should be used to it by now, though." Her eyebrow rose so he continued, "You've been pushing me around for five years."

"I have not," she retorted, moving past him and peeking into the oven. "Grab the dishes. Set four places."

"Have so," he countered, opening the cabinets, "since Cleo's funeral. Wait. Who else is coming over?"

"You'll see," she sang, retrieving food and putting it into serving dishes.

"Bones," he whined as he set the table, "I told you no parties this year."

"Don't you trust me?" she challenged.

He nodded, grumbling, and pretty sure he was the most whipped guy she'd never dated.

"Good," that triumphant smirk of hers mocked him.

She finished up dinner while he poured the wine- "three glasses, not four, Booth"- and tried to figure out what she was hiding. When she didn't budge, he started guessing what foods she had prepared based on what he was smelling.

"Astute," she conceded, "but I informed you of the menu two days ago."

"Not about dessert," he winked, "and I know what I'm smelling is pie!"

"We'll discuss confectionary treats later," she said, setting the last of the food on the table. "Right now it's time for your presents."

"Bones, you didn't have to," he claimed as she dragged him into the living room.

"I wanted to," she smiled. "Now, close your eyes."

He did, wondering what she had gotten him. It didn't matter, he decided, because he was pretty sure that none of her boy toys- not even Sully or the nutty professor- had gotten a special birthday dinner like this. A feather light touch alighted on his elbow and stayed there as she announced he could open his eyes.

Nothing could have prepped him for the sight of Pops and his boy, standing in Bones' living room smiling at him. She nudged him forward just as Parker launched a hug at him and his heart swelled at the embrace.

"Happy Birthday, Shrimp!" Pops was hugging him next.

"Me 'n' Bones got Pops after school today and you know what?" Parker bounced up and down.

"What, Bub?"

"I get to stay the whole weekend, even though it's not ours! And next weekend too!" Parker crowed and Bones nodded in confirmation.

With another quick, tight hug, the eight year-old turned his enthusiasm to the table full of food, Pops not far behind.

"Bones," he stopped her, keeping her by his side as they spoke quietly. "How- I mean, why…"

He couldn't form the thought fully and begged with his eyes for her to catch his drift.

"Well, after last year…" it was her turn to trail off, shrugging.

Yeah, he nodded in silent understanding, last year and the whole Jared debacle; one of the main reasons he'd begged off on a party this year.

"We do things for family," she touched his chest with her fingers briefly, smiling softly. "You taught me that. You deserve this."

All of the insecurities he'd felt when ranked beside the laundry list of other guys in her life evaporated instantly, along with his need to know where he stood with her. Because no matter what they were, no matter what they called it: they were family.

I loved this last one, very nice and fluffy, and you can tell they're just riiiiight there, on the cusp of saying those three little words we all want to hear..."You, bedroom now!"

RM

What did you think I was going to say?

The King's a bad boy, but he's right about the story! The words "I love you" would be an acceptable substitute, though.

dawnsfire wrote:The King's a bad boy, but he's right about the story! The words "I love you" would be an acceptable substitute, though.

Bad boy? Moi? Perhaps I have been a tad naughty...does this mean I get a spanking?!

RM

dawnsfire wrote:

THX1138 wrote:

dawnsfire wrote:The King's a bad boy, but he's right about the story! The words "I love you" would be an acceptable substitute, though.

Bad boy? Moi? Perhaps I have been a tad naughty...does this mean I get a spanking?!

RM

If you really want one...

I've always been a big believer in corporal punishment, just remember my safety word is "OUCH".

Do you know what the worst thing the sadist can say to the masochist? "No." You begin to worry me!

First I find it more than a little interesting that the name of this smiley: is "hey baby" Second, I blame it all on an impressionable childhood watching Benny Hill reruns on the telly!

RM

So, given Rob's 3 little words and the madness that followed, I'm gonna go with he'll approve this one...or at the very least the visual pic I've created.
****

Siren

"No. No. No. No. No," Seeley Booth stormed into one of the makeup rooms in the Hoover's undercover department. "This is not happening, Bones."

His partner-who was currently dressed in the tightest, lowest halter top known to man, along with a band-aid of a mini-skirt, and fishnet stockings that looked like they'd been tailored to her long legs- looked down at him from her high stool, surrounded by makeup artists.

"Hi, Booth," she said casually.

"Don't 'Hi, Booth' me, Bones, and don't think you're going out like that, either," he folded his arms across his chest and glared.

"Agent Perotta needs me," she glared back.

"Not dressed like that she doesn't!" he all but yelled. "And what happened to only working with me?"

"Apparently, somebody read my file and noted my superb track record in undercover investigations," she said haughtily. "Not to mention, Assistant Director Hacker felt that I would make the perfect 'red light special in a blue light district' and recommended me to Agent Perotta."

Booth clenched his jaw and tried not to focus on his desire to march upstairs and pull his gun on Hacker and his stupid crush, before replying, "You got your colors mixed up there, Bones, and I don't care if the Pope himself recommended you. You aren't leaving this room dressed like a hooker."

"I doubt the Pope would endorse prostitution."

"Bones."

"Booth."

Sensing the growing tension between the partners, the makeup techs cleared out, leaving them alone.

"What's the real issue, Booth?" she hopped down gracefully from her stool. "Why are you so upset?"

He started to answer but had to gulp mid-breath as she closed the distance between them, giving him a perfect view of all the things her outfit did and didn't cover.

"Come on, Booth, don't be shy," she pressed, continuing to move forward. "What could you possibly objet to?"

He stood his ground but more from shock than anything else. All of a sudden she stopped and pulled back.

"Well, if you have nothing further to add I believe I'll go see if this meets with Andrew's approval."

"No," he ground the word out, grabbing her arm before she could leave.

"Why. Not. Booth?" she enunciated every word slowly, her face inches from his.

"Because you're mine," the words rushed out raw and uncensored.

He braced for the fallout, but instead of either flattening him or running, she relaxed under his grip, eyes softening, and he swore he saw her nod.

"What was that?" he asked at her faint mutter.

"I said 'finally,'" she answered, looking him in the eye. "I was beginning to think I would have to resort to one of Angela's flashing techniques."

"Um," his eyes glanced at her shirt's neckline of their own accord before he dragged them back to her face, "you pretty much did- wait!" His eyes narrowed, "There's no assignment, is there?"

"I've told you numerous times I'm a good actress," she was flirting openly with him now.

"Shame on me for not believing you," he inhaled her scent, nostrils flaring.

"Indeed," she nodded, "you should be punished."

"Hey, Bones," he said as she began to nibble at his neck, "what say we not devour each other at the Hoover, okay?"

"Fine," she smirked up at him, "my place, then. I've been looking forward to finding out how adept you are at undercover investigations for some time."

Love this, but then I've always had a hard spot for playful/sultry Brennan and there's something so wrong about Brennan done up as a street walker - so wrong it's right that is. Anyway I'd say poor Booth but honestly? Lucky bastard is more accurate. First of all, he gets the girl, and second of all - he gets the girl.

RM

Dirt

A shrill noise pierced through her subconscious, dragging her up from the depths of her peaceful slumber. She groaned and fumbled blindly for the phone, answering it only to stop the incessant ringing.

“Sweetie,” Angela began without preamble, pausing only long enough for Brennan to grunt her acknowledgment. “Sweetie, you need to get up and call your publicist right away!”

“Why?” Brennan asked through a yawn. “What's going on?”

“Well,” the artist took a deep breath, “so I was in grabbing some groceries at Giant and you know all those magazines and stuff they have in the checkout lanes?” There was no time for Brennan to answer as her friend continued breathlessly, “It's not like I look at them regularly, though sometimes I do and this time I had to because your face was plastered everywhere!”

“My face?” she asked. “What's so urgent about that? I've been in the tabliods before.”

“Well, it's not so much your face as its what your face is attached to,” Angela emphasized the last word. “Or rather, who, because all I could see was you and someone who looks suspiciously like Special Agent Hot Stuff sucking some major face. And in one of the pics it looks like he got to second base too.”

“I don't know what that means,” Brennan frowned.

“And these headlines,” Angela went on, “this one says, 'Finding Her Andy,' another one claims 'More Than Just Partners,' and then there's 'FBI Agent Throws His Doctor a Bone.' Should I keep going?”

“Ange,” Brennan answered long-sufferingly, “the tabloids have been conjecturing about the true nature of my relationship with Booth for years now.”

“Yeah, but whoever touched up these pictures did an expert job. I mean, I know they can't be real but that's not the conclusion everyone else in the world is going to draw!”

“Fine,” Brennan sighed, “I'll have my publicist look into things.”

“Good,” the relieved reply came. “Though, Bren?”

“Yes?”

“One of these years you really ought to give him a chance and take him for a test ride.”

“Goodbye, Angela,” she sang, quickly hanging up the phone and sinking back down into her pillow.

“So I got caught stealing second?” a somnolent voice rumbled in her ear.

“Apparently that alley was not as private as we thought,” she felt heat rising in her cheeks.

“Hey,” Booth grinned wildly, “I'm not the one who dragged us there in the first place.”

“Yes, but you were the one who assaulted me with your lips,” she trailed a finger down his bare chest. “And pressed me up against that wall.”

“Easiest way to shut you up,” he shrugged, eyes twinkling, “and I didn't hear any complaints from your end.”

Before she could retort he pulled her closer and caught her lips with his once more. There wasn't any less passion than there had been the night before when he'd shocked her into silence, but it was slow and languorous rather than frenzied.

“How long do you think it'll take Ange to figure out they're real?” he asked when they'd pulled back for air.

On the nightstand the phone rang once more and she glanced at the Caller ID.

“Not long at all.”

Woohoo! I guess Angela's pretty smart after all.