Booth watched for a few moments as Brennan prepared the bones for transportation, but his exhaustion caught up with him and he walked up behind her, sliding a hand to the small of her back as he leaned close to her ear.
"I'll wait for you in your office, Bones."
She slid her eyes towards him, noting the lines bracketing his mouth and fanning from his eyes. "I won't be long," she replied.
Twenty minutes later she strode into her office to find Booth sprawled on her couch. He'd kicked off his shoes and was stretched out. Her stride faltered as she tried to ascertain if he was asleep.
"I'm awake, Bones," he said, not moving.
She shrugged out of her lab coat and pulled her hair free of confinement, sighing as part of her headache fled as her hair loosened.
She lifted his legs out of the way and fell onto the couch, settling his feet in her lap as she turned slightly, resting her back on the arm of the couch as she faced him.
"Mr. White and his cohorts gone yet?" he asked.
"Not quite. He, Cam and Andrew are working out some details, something about no paperwork or official records."
She patted his foot absently as she talked and noticed the barely perceptible wince. Without changing her expression or tone of voice, and maintaining the same apparent absence of thought, she began kneading his foot, just gently rubbing.
He sighed a little and wiggled his toes, silently transmitting how much he enjoyed what she was doing.
"Do you think Sweets was right?" she asked, digging her thumbs into the ball of his foot and watching as his face twitched, then smoothed out as she rubbed.
"About what?" he asked, his voice rough.
"About this being some kind of test?"
"Could be. There is a congressional committee that wants to exhume President Kennedy's body. Maybe this was a dry run."
"I doubt there will be a wet run, since this didn't go all that well."
"Yeah, handcuffing the Secret Service might have thrown a wrench in their plans."
"Along with the refusal to follow orders and ignore the identity of the remains."
She switched to the other foot, warming it between her hands before beginning her ministrations.
***
"What's with the two of them?" White asked Cam, nodding towards the couple on Brennan's couch.
Cam laughed shortly. "None of us know. They're partners and best friends, certainly."
"Ma'am," he said, "I've never rubbed my partner's or my best friend's feet."
Cam smiled a little wistfully, "Yeah, that's something lovers do. But the two of them…they don't play by the same rules as the rest of us."
White snorted. "No shit." Then he looked at Cam, really looked. She'd been impressive all day, refusing to bow under the Secret Service's commands, doing her damnedest to maintain her own professional integrity and the lab's standards. When she turned those dark eyes on him and warned him about not doing half-truths, he'd felt an upwelling of respect. She and her merry band of geniuses had been a pain in his ass, of course, but he admired them for it.
And this woman in particular, with those liquid eyes and that unwavering integrity, did things to his belly.
"Dr. Saroyan," he began, "this might sound strange, but would you like to get breakfast? After I escort the remains, that is."
She smiled at him. "I haven't slept in nearly 30 hours and I have a 16-year-old daughter to get home to." She paused, watching his eyes flash to her hands, checking for a wedding band. "Can we do dinner instead?"
***
Booth had dozed off, feeling warm and content on her sofa, soothed by her voice, her hands, and her presence.
Brennan watched him sleep for a few moments until a wave of exhaustion crashed over her as well. She maneuvered herself around on the couch until she could stretch out along his body and rest her head on his shoulder. His arms swept up to hold her, one hand cradling her head and the other pressing her against him. He rested his cheek against her hair and murmured in his sleep.
"My Temperance."
She smiled, his words warming her heart. "My Seeley. Sweet dreams."