Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: While I am all for a Booth and Brennan relationship (I actually yell at the TV every time Booth misses an opportunity to sneak in a kiss or whatever) I think that the partnership they share is undeniably strong and that more fanfictions should be dedicated to that aspect of what they have going on. So, here's my solution. Be warned: there is no plot. Well, each chapter has a small one, but the chapters are in no way related. And some will be pretty short. Anyway, I think I've said enough. Oh, yeah. If you yell at the TV too, I'd love to hear from you.

The sun beat down on Temperance Brennan.

A bead of sweat escaped from her hairline and made its way down her forehead, across her nose, and over her lip. She could taste its saltiness in her mouth. The drop disappeared under her chin, but another one was already forming back under the red bandana she was wearing. She sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of one hand, though it was no use. She was slick with sweat all over and there was no way the day was going to cool down anytime soon.

She turned back to the pile of dirt in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind that she had made a mess. A huge one.

She reached down and picked a small, green weed and threw it into the yard behind her. She loved to garden, it helped to clear her head after a particularly long case, but this was getting ridiculous. The thermometer read eighty-six last time she had checked. That was at seven in the morning – three hours ago. It was much hotter now, and the branches of the trees in the front yard didn't quite make it to the place where she was working.

It had been a long time since she last attempted to garden, and she could tell that she was out of practice. There was a stack of tulip bulbs to one side of her, a huge pile of dirt on the other. She wanted to plant a few perennials to cut down on the amount of work that would have to be done next spring, but she couldn't remember how deep the bulbs had to be planted. Contemplating where or not to call Angela, she decided that the artist probably wouldn't know either.

She picked out a few more weeds and figured she could work on a few of the potted plants she had bought at a local garden store. She was just pulling a plant out of a pot when a shadow crossed her path. She looked up.

Booth stood behind her with a small smile on his lips. Temperance wasn't sure what he found so amusing: the fact that she had made a huge mess, or that she was drenched in sweat and caked in dirt. Most likely it was a combination of the two.

Temperance got to her feet and wiped a few strands of hair from her eyes. Booth still hadn't spoken and she wasn't going to be the first to say anything.

"Hi," he said at last.

"Hi." She held her back and stretched, sore from being bent over for so long.

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up," he said

Temperance didn't have to ask what he was talking about. Their last case had been a difficult one that involved one too many mutilated babies and a very guilty father. She hadn't taken it nearly as hard as Booth had, as he had a child of his own, but she still appreciated that he had come to check up on her.

"I'm fine," she assured him. They both smiled, but didn't say anything more.

"I didn't know you gardened," Booth said finally, changing the subject.

Temperance shaded her eyes with one hand. "I try."

"I can see that." He eyed the mess that lay at her feet.

When he didn't say anything more, she dropped back to her knees and picked up a trowel. Booth appeared at her side. "What are they?"

"What are what?" she asked in reply.

He gestured to the flowers.

"Um, flowers."

He looked exasperated. "I mean, what kind are they?"

"Oh." She smiled and pointed to a group of beautiful salmon-colored flowers. "Those are begonias. And the purple ones here are called magnolias." She paused to wipe her brow again. "That pink one over there is a dahlia."

A look of recognition crossed Booth's face. "Like the movie?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

She frowned at him before moving on to point out a few more plants, stopping to tell him which ones attracted butterflies or bees, though she used the scientific terminology for the insects. No longer squatting beside her, Booth had sat himself down on the grass next to her, their hips almost touching. Almost, but not quite.

"Which is your favorite?" he asked when she was finally finished.

"What?" She was surprised at the personal question.

"Bones, it's not a difficult question. Which flowers do you like the best?"

"Hmm." He was right. It wasn't a big deal. Why was she always so quick to hide herself? After a few moments thinking time, she answered the question. "I like lilies. White ones."

"Simple and elegant." Booth nodded. He picked up a small trowel and helped her to dig up some more weeds.

"Don't you think it's a little odd?" he asked after a struggle with a large rooted weed.

"What would that be?" She didn't look up from the yellow petunia she was putting in the ground.

"That you like to garden."

She set down her trowel and turned to him. "Why do you find it odd?"

He looked slightly nervous now. "It's just… you dig up dead bodies and then you come home and dig up plants. I'd be afraid to find something down here." He shuddered.

"Booth, average grave depth is between three and six feet. We're not going to find anything." She picked up a watering can and gave the petunia a large dousing. A little water splashed on to Booth's pants. Temperance didn't notice.

"I know that, Bones. I just meant that you dig for a living, and then you come here and do it some more. I will never understand you." And he would never understand why he always felt like he had to say things twice when he was around her.

They went back to pulling weeds in silence.

"It's a way for me to unwind," she said quietly.

Booth had already forgotten what he had said and was unsure as to what she was talking about.

"Sorry?"

"Gardening. It helps me relax."

"This helps you relax?" He indicated the large mountain of dirt with a wave of his trowel and accidentally splattered his partner with soil. She didn't make any move to brush it off, so a smudge of it remained on her cheek.

She nodded and squinted up at him. His stomach growled loudly.

"How 'bout we go get some lunch?" he suggested.

Temperance looked from him to the dirt. Her eyes told him that she would rather stay behind and get this cleaned up. Booth improvised.

"How 'bout I go get some lunch and bring it over here?"

She nodded. "That would be great."

While he was gone she thought up a list of ways to rope him into helping her out some more. She would never admit it to anyone, but she really did enjoy his company.