This is my piece for the fanfic Secret Santa, organized by the lovely Biba. My person was Annie, or Anni on FFN. She asked for a blind date, a filthy mouthed Booth and a flirty Brennan, with no angst that would make her cry.

Annie, I hope you like this and that it's even better than you hoped. I look forward to hearing what you think about it. I hope your holidays were magical and wonderful and everything joyous the season should bring.

Not so long ago, I wrote alone. No beta, no twitter friends, just me and my laptop. It seems now, I'm incapable of any such thing and my work is better for it. I commented just the other night on Twitter that it now takes a village to write my stories and it was pointed out to me that it really is more of a hamlet. I'll accept that, because my hamlet is the best I could ask for. This time around, thanks go to MiseryMaker (who is lovely, despite what her screen name might indicate,) JMHaughey for her unwavering support, jadedrepartee for her constant encouragement and idea bouncing and my amazing beta, jenlovesbones, whom I daresay loves me despite my inability to write my numerals as she suggests. Thank you all.

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone." ~Rose Kennedy

They are solid.

There have been variations of this truism for them in the past. Centers and lynch pins and all the descriptions they have used to claim that they are in a good place; that things between them were fine, unwavering, whole or, indeed, solid. And mostly, they were. Never like they are now, but mostly things were very, very good between them.

But sometimes they weren't.

Those times are the times that they prefer not to think about too much. Times of fake deaths and shiny baubles and sad rejections and airport goodbyes and blonde reporters and tearful confessions and anger and imperviousness. Times when it was more than bickering or physical distance between them. Times when the center was shaky at best and the lynchpin wasn't quite enough.

Even now, those times hurt. And while each would admit that those times were necessary then to pave the way to now, that doesn't mean they don't still sting a bit.

Time heals all wounds, but it does not erase them.

Still, things are good now in a way they have never been before. A couple-ish way, with a new found kind of understanding and care. The love isn't new- it's been there for a long time- but the acknowledgement and cultivating of it is new and that just strengthens them further.

And because it is love in a couple-ish way, they have found themselves at dinner with another couple. Because this is what couples do…and because their friends desperately needed a night out without their baby.

The men have had a few drinks, Hodgins especially, and the women have not, breast feeding and pregnancy taking the option out of the equation. There is work talk and chatter and laughter and some discussion about the future. Their babies will be the best of friends. It will be such fun to raise their children together. Angela waxes poetic about prom dates and a future wedding and tiny Hodgins/Montenegro/Brennan/Booth grandchildren. Her husband is just drunk enough to indulge her silly flights of fancy while Booth just shakes his head and laughs but Brennan is, as usual, much too practical for such wishful thinking.

"Angela, there are millions of people in this world. It is far more likely that Michael and our daughter will find mates outside of our social circle."

"I am always right about these kinds of things," asserts the artist.

"Angie, you are quite often wrong about these kinds of things." Hodgins chuckles.

"That is not true!" she scolds him in mock annoyance. "I was right about you and me." She tells her husband sweetly. "And I was right all along about the two of you." She waggles her finger back and forth between the two people across the table.

"You are conveniently forgetting that we broke up for a while." Hodgins reminds her.

"But that doesn't matter because we are together now." She points out.

"So, were you right when we were together and wrong when we broke up or are you wrong when we're together and right when we broke up?" He is teasing her, because he really doesn't care. Time has healed Hodgins' wounds. He has everything he has ever wanted and doesn't spend time wallowing in his regrets.

"The bottom line is that in some point in your ridiculous question, I was right. That's really all that counts. I know about relationships."

"Were you right when you set Brennan up on that ridiculous blind date last year?" Hodgins takes another sip of his drink and misses the looks that darken the faces of his friends.

Angela, however, is sober and she does not miss it, but she is also not quite fast enough to redirect her inebriated husband and he continues on.

"Because as I recall, Miss-I-Am-Always-Right-About-Relationships, that did not go so well."

"Hodgins…" Angela tries. She really does, because she sees her fun night out fading quickly. "Let's not talk about the past anymore. Let bygones be bygones and all that."

"You don't want to talk about it because you were wrong." The Bug Man chortles.

"I just think…" She looks at her friends who are both very carefully not looking at her or each other, for that matter. "I think that maybe that's not the best topic of conversation right now."

The entomologist is more drunk than sober, but he is not stupid and quickly realizes his mistake. He does his best to salvage what is left of the good mood from five minutes before he stuck his foot in his mouth, but it is too little, too late. Within fifteen minutes the couples have dispersed, and for Booth and Brennan, the car ride home is silent.

He knows that he shouldn't hit the button. He's been down this road before and was emphatically told that doing a background check on the significant other of someone important in his life is wrong. He's checked Rebecca's boyfriends and he's checked Jared's fiancée and it's always, ALWAYS backfired on him. He always gets caught and they always get angry and he is always sorry for their anger. But he is never sorry for looking after the people that he cares about.

He knows that his partner is capable of kicking his ass if she finds out. And he knows that technically, he has no right to do what he is about to do. For Rebecca, he justifies it for Parker. For Jared, it's because that's what brothers do; big brothers protect little brothers. But for Bones…quite frankly he's not sure exactly what his motives are. They are just partners and their friendship is not as strong as it once was. It's been a bad year for them and there were moments he wasn't sure their friendship was going to survive it all.

They were clawing their way back, though. Back and he hoped towards more than friends. He wasn't ready yet, but he knew he would be, someday. And he thought she might feel and want the same; to get back to where they were and then some more.

Until he hears from Angela about the blind date.

"He's an artist." She tells him, and this actually eases the sting a bit because he does not for one minute think an artist will interest his partner much beyond a perfunctory dinner.

"He's one of those who works with gears and levers and pulleys and gravity…he has a degree in aerodynamics from some fancy college I can't remember."

Now the buzzing in his head is back and he feels slightly queasy.

She's on a date.

He has no right to be jealous. She tried so hard not to be jealous of his happiness, of his relationship, even when he was doing his best to flaunt it for all to see. She tried so hard to be supportive of him, happy for him.

He already knows he is not capable of doing the same for her.

And so he justifies pushing the enter key to himself. Because he can't be happy for her that she's on a date. He's already a bad friend in that sense. He may as well just go ahead and be a really bad friend and look up this guy she's out with. If there's nothing and the check comes up clean, then he's just a crappy, nosy friend. If there is something to be concerned about, well, then he's an FBI agent with a partner who is unknowingly in danger.

He puts his finger on the key, closes his eyes and pushes down.

And when he opens his eyes, what he sees on the screen makes his stomach churn.

She really doesn't want to be there.

She takes her seat across from the attractive artist and immediately regrets letting Angela talk her into this.

He is handsome, but his charm and ease is more smarmy than anything else and there is something about his overconfidence that bothers her.

She makes eye contact and nods as he talks, asks generic questions about his work, as Angela suggested, and notices he spends an inordinate amount of time talking about himself with very little interest in her.

This suits her fine, in all actuality. She doesn't really want to talk to him. It's easier to pretend to listen.

He orders very expensive wine and she knows she is supposed to be impressed by this, so she smiles sweetly, which seems to boost his confidence even further into the metaphoric stratosphere and he begins to talk about where they might go AFTER their dinner.

She already knows the only place she is going after dinner is home.

Still, she is here and she did promise Angela she'd be nice, so she tries to tune in to what he is saying. Her mind rifles through the body language cues she's learned that indicate interest. She settles on leaning forward a bit and pretends to care about his latest art show.

But all she thinks about is Booth. Her brain works in ways that allow her to appear and act focused on the man in front of her while she thinks of another man entirely.

She feels disloyal being on a date. Though she had agreed to this blind date while Booth was with Hannah, things have changed and she hopes that she and Booth can work their way towards being the friends they once were. And that, maybe now, finally, they can even go beyond friendship. She wants to believe their time to try for more is coming, and though she's never been one to have faith in such things, optimism is winning out.

She tried to decline but Angela wasn't having it. "Booth has Hannah, he's moved on." It had been said with a sniff, Angela's disapproval apparent, and she'd reluctantly agreed. After all, it was just one date. She had to move on, too.

But then Booth and Hannah had broken up and he was broken -hearted and she'd tried to call off the date.

"Booth might need some company."

"You and Booth are 'just partners.'" Angela had reminded her. "He was adamant about that. Drinks after cases and all that crap. Go. Have fun. Enjoy. Maybe, if we are all lucky, it will shake some sense into Booth."

That wasn't why she agreed to it. In fact, she'd gone out of her way not mention it to him at all.

Because she isn't one to play games and she knows this date is a non- issue. It isn't going to amount to anything.

Listening to her date drone on about nothing of interest, she is more certain of that than ever.

So she smiles again.

He shouldn't be there.

He knows this is a bad idea. He KNOWS it. He could have called. She always answers. He could have told Angela what he found and had her call.

Instead he is at the restaurant where his partner and her date have just received their dinner. He is at the bar in a seat where he can see them easily, but she cannot see him at all.

He has chosen not to think about how wrong this is.

Every time she smiles, he feels his blood pressure rise. When she leans closer to her date, he has to swallow his anger. Each times she nods or speaks, he clenches his poker chip tighter in his fist.

And while he tells himself he is angry because this guy is an arrogant prick with a rap sheet, he can admit he is angry at her, too.

Why is she here? Aren't they working towards rebuilding their relationship? Don't they both want more together than they had before?

He doesn't think he's gotten that wrong. Her tearful confession in his car had made it clear that she wanted a chance to see what they could become.

He realizes she doesn't know what he wants. He isn't ready to tell her yet. He's self-aware enough to recognize there is something within him that needs to be fixed before he can try another relationship.

Before he can try a relationship with the woman who matters the most.

But she's on a date and he's stunned and more than a little hurt. He'd never asked her to wait but…well, he really had thought that she would.

These notions whirl in his head but they don't settle because none of that is why he is here. His justifications for what he is about to do are what stick out among all his thoughts.

He is here to save his partner, because whether she knows it or not, she is in trouble.

This is what he tells himself over and over as he waits for his chance.

He doesn't have to wait long. Although he is already tense, wired to move at the slightest provocation, he tenses further the second he sees her date stand and excuse himself from the table.

Booth's chance is now and he will not miss it.

He watches as the man exits out the front door of the restaurant, phone to his ear. Noiselessly, he slips from his seat and out the door, just far enough behind the artist to go unnoticed.

It is to his advantage that his partner's date is on the phone. It renders him less aware of his surroundings and it's the perfect opportunity for Booth to position himself nearby without being noticed.

He is close enough to hear the man not only say goodbye, but to hear the beep that indicates the call has been disconnected.

He makes his move.

In an instant, he has pushed the man around to the side of the restaurant. Another hard shove and they are all the way around the back and it is only then, out of sight, that he draws his gun.

"You listen to me." He is menacing. He knows he can be scary and it is now that he uses that to his full advantage. "That woman you are here with? She is important to me. And she was set up on this date by her friend. Neither one of them knows a damn thing about you, you sick son of a bitch, but I do."

The other man is trembling but trying to keep it together. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, let me enlighten you." Booth is in his face, only the barrel of his gun separating them really and it is taking almost every ounce of self- control he has not to whip the guy with it. "You don't like the word 'no' very much. You take what you want. You wine and dine a woman and then when she won't sleep with you, you force yourself on her. There's a rap sheet on you with three counts of sexual assault on it and those were just the ones brave enough to come forward."

"I've never been convicted." His tone is smug and it angers Booth.

So he cocks his gun. "Listen to me, asshole, because I am only going to say this one time. If you touch one hair on her head, I will fucking end you. I won't even think twice about it. I will put a bullet in your brain and dump your body where it will never be found."

Her date is shaking hard now and no longer trying to hide it and Booth feels satisfied by this fact.

"And the kicker? Even if they found your body, the only people who could find the evidence to convict me would be her and her lab and I think this would just be the one case they just could not crack." He shakes him a bit, shoves his gun even further into his face. "So you are going to go back in there and finish your dinner. You're going to be pleasant, you're going to go on just like you have been. You will not breathe a word of this to her. And when you are done, you will walk her to her car, you will open the door for her. You will tell her you had a nice time. You will shut that door and let her drive away and you will NEVER contact her again. You don't touch her, you don't hug her, you just say goodbye. Do you understand me?"

The date is truly scared and he simply nods in agreement.

"SAY IT!" Booth demands.

"I…I understand."

He gives an extra push and the man hits his head against the wall. "Just remember, one wrong fucking move and you are done. I'll be watching."

The man nods again and Booth knows with certainty the message has been received.

"Get out of here." He motions back towards the front of the restaurant. He gives him another shove and the man stumbles back towards his dinner date.

And Booth doesn't feel guilty at all.

She has never been good with people, but she senses a change in her date.

Where he was smooth and charismatic before he left the table, he is now jumpy and nervous.

Well-put-together has been replaced by slightly disheveled.

There is no charm left. There is no talk about after-dinner activities. He is rushing them now to the end now, and she suspects that he is no longer interested in winning her over.

It doesn't bother her in the least. She felt finished with the date before it even began and it quite relieved when the waitress asks them if they'd like dessert and he simply requests the check.

He does not help her put on her coat, nor does he open the door for her as they exit. He barely seems able to string together a sentence now, when he had been full of all kinds of self -aggrandizing talk earlier in the night.

She cannot help but wonder who it was that called and what has had such an effect on him.

He walks her to her car and looks uneasy, scanning their surroundings. He makes no move to hug her, which she is glad about, but she thinks it strange when he barricades himself behind her Prius door, as if he is shielding himself with it.

She steps into the car and thanks him for the evening, though she doesn't use the word "nice" because it really hasn't been. He closes the door with a nod, nothing more and gives her a small wave before he breaks into a jog towards his own car. She watches him go, puzzled at the turnaround he seems to have done.

She shakes her head as he races out of the parking lot, relieved that she's about to head home. She is more relaxed now that this blind date is over and she is looking forward to getting home and putting on her pajamas and catching up on her reading.

She contemplates calling Booth, just to check on him, but can't think of a good enough excuse to give him for her call. She decides to just go home. If Booth needs her, he will call. He always does and she always answers.

She is three blocks from the restaurant when she remembers that who she IS supposed to call is Angela to tell her how the date went. At a light, she reaches into her purse for her phone. It's not there and she realizes that she has left it at the restaurant. When her date stepped out she checked her messages and didn't put it back in her purse.

Annoyed with herself, she pulls up to the next light and makes a U-turn back towards the restaurant.

It is then that she sees a familiar black Sequoia coming down the other street. A familiar black Sequoia coming from the direction of the restaurant. A familiar black Sequoia that quickly changes lanes and turns down a side street.

Suddenly she has a very good idea about what happened to her date.

They don't talk about it.

He is fairly sure she knows, though, or at least she has some inkling. He got out of sight as quickly as he could when he realized she'd turned her car around, but now she sits at her desk, back ramrod straight and only answers him in clipped one and two word responses.

Yes, she knows.

But he plays dumb, mostly because he hopes it will blow over, but also because he just is not sorry for what he did and if they discuss it, that will become obvious. And once she realizes he isn't sorry, she will really be irate.

So he says nothing and pretends he does not notice she is furious with him.

They don't talk about it.

She knows he is not that dense. He has always been able to gauge her moods and emotions and she cannot imagine he is oblivious to her anger.

But he is playing dumb and that is angering her as much as anything else. It's not right that he gets to be so casual with her life. Her decisions are not his to make and if she wants to date someone she will.

Except she won't.

And that angers her too.

They go on not talking about it.

There is a case. He is the agent, he needs his expert, and they fall easily into their assigned roles. It's a tough one. Young victims and a neglectful parent and all the ways the foster system can fail the very ones it's supposed to protect.

It's easy to get lost in the work. And this work is particularly difficult, especially for two people who can identify with the victims on a personal level. And though she wants to continue seething that he meddled with her date and he wants to still be angry that she was on a date at all, they both find, like so many times before, that they each need the other now.

It starts with a lunch at the diner. Then it's dinner on the road back from questioning a suspect. He shows up early the next morning at her apartment with coffee and a bagel, she buys him a drink when it's all over. They draw strength from one another, each finding a calm in the presence of the other.

They don't talk about it.

They bury it. Shove it under a metaphoric rug. Ignore it. Dance around it. It's what they've always done, in some respects. Because she is afraid of pushing him further away than he has already been this year. And he is afraid that if they do discuss it he will have to admit why he really did what he did and he isn't ready for that. Not yet. So neither one says a word and things begin to slide back to normal.

Then there is a blizzard and blue stadium seats and an elevator and anger and imperviousness and dates burned into the air.

And a promise.

Although it's not spoken as a promise or even as an agreement, it is one.

They want, someday, to try to be together.

They just need to heal a little more first.

And so they never do end up talking about it at all.

The silence is deafening by the time they reach his apartment and she considers just going home.

The problem is she doesn't want to. She's grown accustomed to sleeping beside him now and has, against her wishes, turned into one of those women, a woman who doesn't sleep as well when he isn't in bed with her. Home has become wherever he is.

She is also learning that these types of things are never made better by pretending they don't exist. This current quiet is certainly evidence of that.

He is reading a magazine when she climbs into bed and what she doesn't know is that he's been looking at the same page for the last fifteen minutes.

He can't focus. He knows they have to talk about it and while back then he felt justified doing what he did, time has made him fully aware of all the ways it was wrong. But she is climbing into bed next to him, her long legs peeking out from underneath one of his t-shirts, her small belly bump sticking out just a bit further than the day before and he's just so damn grateful that she is there that he is more afraid of messing things up staying quiet about it than by hashing it out.

So he goes first.

"I screwed up."

She looks down at her belly, but doesn't respond.

"I…I had no right, but I heard you were on a date and I…I got scared."

"Scared of what?"

"That it was your turn to move on." He closes the magazine and tosses it to the floor beside him. "He had a rap sheet. He was…not a nice guy. And that gave me the excuse I was looking for."

She studies him carefully before she settles on what to say next. "What did you do?"

"I threatened him. Told him not to touch you. Told him he'd pay if he did."

She swallows, only halfway wanting to know the answer to her next question. "Pay how?"

"I might've threatened his life." He winces as he admits it because it sounds so awful but also because he would do it again if need be. Because as jealous as he was, he was also afraid for her and would do anything to keep her safe. Anything at all.

"Booth…"

"Why'd you go on that date, Bones?" He's admitted his part. Now he wants some answers, too.

"When Angela first suggested it, you were with Hannah." Her voice is measured and even and he knows this is purposeful. Hannah isn't an easy subject for either of them. "And then you weren't, but you'd drawn a very clear line about where we stood. I…I hoped that would change, but I had to take you at your word. We were just partners."

He nods, and looks at his hands, aware of the barricades he'd thrown between them.

"I did try to get out of it, but you know how Angela is when she has her mind set on something." She looks at him sideways. "I never really wanted to be there. Not at all."

"What? He wasn't brilliant enough for you?" He's trying to funny, but it falls flat.

"He was very smart." She looks at him fully, now. "Objectively, I would say that he was handsome and charming as well. But…"

"But?"

"But he wasn't you."

This warms him from his heart to his toes, but there is still air to be cleared. "You were angry at me, though."

"Yes."

"I deserved that."

"Yes, you did."

"I just lost it, Bones. I mean, this guy…he was bad news all the way around." He sighs before conceding. "But the truth is that it could have been anyone and I would have found a reason to wreck it for you. I wasn't ready for any of this." He motions between them. "But I knew that I would be, one day. And I saw it slipping away."

"I can understand that," she says softly.

"I know you can." His answer is filled with a tone of regret.

She scoots over and down until she settles her head against his chest. "Everything that came before…" she begins.

"…has gotten us where we are now." He finishes the phrase that has become their mantra as he wraps his arm around her.

"And here is good." She snuggles closer to him.

"Here is very, very good." He agrees, his free hand coming to rest on her stomach.

They are quiet again for a while, but it is different now, a peaceful sort of silence as they simply enjoy what they have become.

He drops a kiss on her hair. "I'm sorry."

She shifts to look up at him. "I know."

His heart can't help but swell, because she is so pretty and her expression so full of affection and understanding and he just loves her so much. "I'd do it again."

"You won't have to."

He kisses her then, because he can't help that either.

She kisses him back, because neither can she.

And they are solid.

~End~