Spoilers: Couch, couch, couch! I really have to start fixating on a different piece of furniture…

Disclaimer: Holy hell! Super Bowl… What a match! I'm Australian, I don't follow NFL, but wow.

Author's Note: I just made a tea and forgot to boil the kettle… *smacks head*

Is my writing getting boring? I think it is. Uh oh. Sorry!

Booth all but threw the booklet he was looking through onto the table in front of them. Brennan's head snapped up from the dotted line she was signing to glare at him as their coffee mugs rattled on the glass table.

"Was that really necessary?" she demanded, exasperation colouring her voice. Booth felt momentarily guilty, before remembering why he'd thrown the book in the first place.

"Yes, Bones," he said, frown creasing his brow. "Otherwise I probably would have hit something." He huffed a few deep breaths while Brennan nodded.

"Would you like me to take your gun?" she asked innocently, her face perfectly calm. Booth had the sudden urge to hug his gun to his chest shouting mine, mine! Instead, he simply glared at her, looking away when her smile started to show through.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself smiling once she was; it was somewhat infectious, like seeing a baby smile. And he didn't really feel like smiling right now. Which again brought him back to why he'd been mad in the first place.

"Why are we doing this, Bones?" he begged. She'd already told him three or four times, but none of them had quite sated him. He was still annoyed and uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"We're doing this, Booth," she began slowly, "because my will needs to be updated. Since my father and Russ – not to mention Amy and the girls – came back into my life, I've needed to make adjustments. Everything that's happened with Zach…" She paused, frowning, and Booth fought the urge to reach across and pull her to him, instead offering her a small smile. "And yours probably does, too," she said, voice steady again.

And she'd left that part out before. Booth rolled his eyes. "My will does not need updating," he argued, flapping a hand to indicate such things. Brennan sighed.

"Fine, but I need you to be my witness," she countered. Booth fought the urge to remind her that she did not, in face, need him. She could have picked anyone to do this; Angela, Cam, Hodgins…

Booth had a sinking feeling he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd gone to Brennan's office to drag her to dinner, only to find her on her couch engrossed in wills. Great. She'd innocently asked him to be her witness, and, of course, he'd agreed, sitting himself next to her. It hadn't occurred to him until later that that meant listening to Brennan talk about all sorts of horrible things.

Like her death.

He knew he should probably be flattered that she'd actually asked him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel anything but awkward. And a little annoyed.

"Okay, I'm here, I've witnessed, can we just sign and leave?" he asked. By now, Brennan had obviously figured out that there was something bothering him – that he wasn't just in a bad mood – but still hadn't seemed to figure out what.

"I still haven't finished, Booth," she said, bordering on angry. This brought Booth to his senses a little, and he nodded in surrender.

"What else if left?" he asked, hoping that the dread he felt wasn't evident in his voice. Brennan made a sound that told him she was thinking and flipped through a few pages.

"Burial," she stated boredly. Booth held back a groan. Images of Brennan – pale, embalmed, dead – filtered unceremoniously through his head. Apparently he didn't do too well with the holding back. "What? Why did you just groan?"

Booth looked up to meet her eyes – blue, clear, alive – and sighed. "I just… I don't like thinking of you… being buried," he said, knowing he was sidestepping the issue. From the look in her eyes, she knew what he really meant. She nodded and offered him a small smile.

"I'm not going to be buried," she told him bluntly, and very assuredly. Booth frowned. Not buried? In a way, that was a relief, but then he thought about the alternatives.

"Not buried?" he asked, trying not to offend her. She looked at him as if he were very stupid.

"No, Booth. I refuse to be buried and I don't want a funeral. It's a totally illogical. In a simply environmental sense, there are a multitude of reasons," she stated calmly. Booth smarted; she was making things up, trying to prove her point with faux facts.

"Oh yeah, like what?" he asked, deciding to ignore the fact that he sounded like a petulant six-year-old. Brennan looked as if she had won something, and Booth realized that he'd lost this argument already. He mentally kicked himself.

"Well, there's the issue of space," she started. "D.C. is a relatively small state, and Arlington alone takes up over two hundred acres of that. Cemeteries are already too many; not to mention that almost all of them are associated with one church or another." Booth was silent for a few seconds.

"But, Bones –"

"On top of that, there's ground and water pollution," she continued, now apparently on a roll. "A high concentration of corpses in a small area – like a cemetery – produces noxious…"

Booth ignored the rest of what she said, knowing it wasn't really anything of utmost importance. He tried to think of a way to convince her otherwise. As much as he respected his partner and her beliefs – most of the time – there were limits. The Partner part of him wanted to agree with her, with whatever she wanted. But the niggling Catholic part of him wanted to argue.

"Booth?" His head snapped up at the sound of his name.

"No," he said, watching as her face became bewildered. "I can understand not being buried, Bones, but not having a funeral?" He hardly registered that he leaned closer, his voice quiet. "You don't have a funeral for you, Bones. You have a funeral for your family and friends; for people who love you who want to say goodbye."

Brennan looked at him, considering, seeming to have noticed the sudden change in the tension in the room. It was no longer angry and uncomfortable, but something… else. Something incredibly familiar, yet totally unnamable. And this, right here, was Booth-and-Bones.

When she spoke, her voice matched his in volume. "I understand closure, Booth, but 'saying goodbye' is slightly futile if I'm dead," she decided. Booth fought not to roll his eyes, more amused than annoyed by her comment. It was a very 'Brennan' thing to say.

"Not for me," he argued lightly, smiling when she raised an eyebrow. "I'm Catholic, Bones." His voice was lit with humour and sincerity.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked, and Booth chuckled quietly. Trust Brennan's deductive skills to be lacking right at this moment.

"I believe that the dead can hear us," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes at him. "So when you're… up there, you'll hear us. You'll know how many people love you."

If she was as shocked by his indirect admission as he was, she didn't show it. Instead, to his surprise, she smirked, and he was now just dreading what she was going to say. She leaned in a little closer, and he could just feel her breath as she spoke.

"Not for me," she contradicted, mimicking his words. Booth knew that the question in his head was more than evident in his expression. "I'm not Catholic, Booth."

Booth narrowed his eyes at her both in question and suspicion. "Really? I hadn't noticed," he bit back childishly. "What difference does that make to my beliefs?" To his horror, she smiled again.

"Because according to your beliefs," she said, and Booth wondered when she was going to find her own words, "I won't be up there." Despite having a feeling he knew where this was going, Booth remained silent. "I'll be down there." She pointed cruelly to the floor – she was enjoying this far, far too much – and Booth grabbed her finger.

How she could say something like that to him, he wasn't quite sure. He wondered if Brennan was just winding him up – she'd done that often enough. The thought actually physically hurt.

"No, you won't, Bones," he said almost threateningly. He saw something spark in her eyes and he shifted his hand to link their fingers. "You're a good person; that's enough."

There was silence for a few seconds as Booth tried to convey his earnestness, hoping his eyes told her enough.

"But –"

"No, no buts," he interrupted, mentally kicking himself for not expecting her to argue. She frowned, thinking. Finally, she nodded, a small smile licking the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and that was the last thing Booth had expected her to say. But that, and the smile, prompted him. He lowered his head and kissed her lips lightly, knowing she would probably protest, knowing that he was breaking all their rules.

Then knowing nothing as she responded.

What do you think? I think I'm losing it. Don't know what 'it' is, but I'm losing it nonetheless.

Love.

Giorgia