The crime scene was quieter now, and Lance stood close to you, his hands tucked into his pockets, his shoulder brushing yours. He leaned in slightly, letting out a soft, relieved laugh after Booth strolled off to deal with the last bits of paperwork. His brown eyes softened as they flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, you were the only thing in his world.

Then she approached.

The woman had been hanging at the edges of the scene all day, clearly not part of the investigation but still very interested—specifically in Lance. Her bright smile widened as she sauntered up, her flirty energy unmistakable.

“Dr. Sweets,” she purred, each syllable dripping with practiced sweetness. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as her eyes lingered on him—far too long. “I heard you’re the genius psychologist around here. Gotta say, I’m impressed.”

Lance froze, blinking, before his professional smile slipped into place. His voice was steady, polite, but tinged with his usual boyish charm. “Uh—thanks! It’s, uh, really a team effort most of the time.”

Her laugh was light and dismissive, her hand brushing the sleeve of his jacket. She leaned closer. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Lance… it’s Lance, right?” Her gaze dipped down and back up, far too obvious to mistake for anything professional.

Lance shifted awkwardly, a nervous laugh escaping as he edged ever so slightly toward you. His eyes darted quickly to yours—and that was when he saw it. That look. The sharp edge of jealousy brewing in your gaze. Yep, he was in trouble—or, rather, this woman was—and for some reason, it thrilled him.

And then she sealed her fate.

With a practiced motion, she pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and extended it toward him, grinning. “Call me. No pressure… unless you want there to be.”

Lance stared at the paper, then glanced at you. Oh, he could feel the storm rolling in, and it was glorious. His lips twitched as he fought back a grin, biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes sparkled with amusement as they stayed on you, every part of him vibrating with barely-contained giddiness.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice softer, lower, laced with playful affection. “Wow, uh… this is—this is something.” He rocked on his heels, slipping his hands into his pockets. “But, uh… I think my partner here… might have some thoughts about this.”

Beside him, Booth groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face as if he could somehow disappear. “Sweets, really?” he muttered under his breath, stepping past just enough to avoid the blast radius.

The woman blinked, oblivious, still holding the piece of paper toward him. “What do you mean? It’s just a number!”

Lance smiled crookedly, his gaze never leaving you. His voice dropped further, filled with affection, barely hiding his amusement. “Oh, this is gonna be good….”

Booth clapped his hands abruptly, his tone forced and far too cheery. “Okay! Time to wrap up. People to see, bad guys to catch—let’s go, kids.”

Lance didn’t move. He just tilted his head toward you, his expression soft and teasing, voice filled with open affection. “So… what’s your move?”