Spoilers/Timeline: None/Set in future.

A/N: Many thanks to bearlee_there for read through.

Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine. Title found in Sugarland's Every Girl Like Me.


She crumpled the last of the discarded newspaper, tossing it into the empty cardboard box near the table. She should've known better than to let Booth finish unpacking while she was wrapping things up at the lab; paper and bubble wrap were strewn everywhere.

Still — she smiled, noticing Jasper perched on the small shelf above the sink, her femur magnets holding Parker's latest school picture in place on the fridge — he'd done a good job. A better one than she could've done after leading a symposium at American all week while working a case and trying to assimilate their belongings in a logical manner. This had been the last room they had to finish and, now that he had, a celebratory glass of wine was in order.

They were home.

She grabbed the bottle of Pinot Noir Angela had brought as a housewarming gift, setting it on the counter as she began looking for a glass. After opening two cabinets loaded with plates and mugs, she found them: hand blown goblets nestled on the top shelf of a cupboard full of tumblers.

Reaching up, she groaned, her fingertips barely brushing against the edge of the shelf. Who the hell had decided wine glasses belonged there?

She pressed her palm against the countertop and leaned forward, pushing up on her knee, but it was still no use. Her precarious balance made it impossible to reach her goal.

Grumbling, she stepped back, running her hand through her hair as she tried to devise a successful method. Nothing seemed feasible.

"Hey, I see you—" He stopped and grinned, shoulder pressing to the doorjamb as she stood on her tiptoes, her shirt rising up as she strained to reach the top shelf. God, it was wrong how that little glimpse of skin made his heart pound. Breath catch. "Looks like you need to grow an inch or two, Bones."

"Hmm?" She turned, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the counter. "Oh, actually, relatively speaking, I am tall for a woman. Average height is some—"

"Yeah, I know, it makes pressing you up against the door very enjoyable." He winked, stepping further into the room. "Still, it's nice to see that you need me."

"I could easily get a step stool or use one of the chairs to increa—"

"Yet you're standing here impersonating Stretch Armstrong."

"I don't know what—"

"It's a toy that... Ya know what, nevermind. The point is that I like helping you, that you trust me enough to let me."

"I... that's..." She bit the inside of her cheek, the corner of her mouth tipping up as he arched an eyebrow at her. "I do, you know."

"Pretty sure I just said that."

"I'm merely affirming your hypothesis. What you said was correct and..." Sighing, she closed her eyes, focusing on what she wanted — needed — to say instead of his deep, warming laughter. "And I'm glad you're here."

"Oh, Bones, I'm glad to be here. I..." Cupping her face, he smiled softly as she looked up at him, understanding and love arcing between them as their gazes met. "I'm glad we're here."

"Mmm." Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned into him. "If only the wine glasses were down here with us."

"Oh, is that what you were trying to get down?"

"Yeah, who decided that that was the best place for them?"

Chuckling, he stepped back, looking up at the open cupboard. "I believe you said, 'There's more vertical space on the top shelf. They won't be crowded so there will be less chance of breakage...'"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Smirking, he gripped the edge of the counter, their hips pressing together as he stepped forward. Her hands tugged at the bottom of his tie, eyes darkening as he pinned her in place. Leaning even further into her space, he ducked his head and...

Carefully reached above them, grabbing two of the glasses.

"That was..." She shook her head, brow furrowing as her hands drifted down his sides, settling low on his waist.

"What? You wanted the glasses."

"Yes, but you made it appear as though you were about to make out with me and—"

"'Make out?'" His chest rumbled against hers as he set the stemware on the counter behind her. "God, you are so cute."

"Booth!"

"You are! Cute, beautiful, sexy... everything..." His forehead pressed to hers, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans. "And who said I wasn't going to make out with you? I mean, we have all these rooms to christen."

"Well, not our bathroom..."

"Mmm, no, but I'd gladly conserve water like that for the rest of our lives, babe."

"While on the surface showering together appears to be good for the environment, in actuality the amount of time we spent—"

"Missing the point, Bones."

"I know." Cupping his hips, she grinned, loving how comfortable — right — standing here, arguing in their kitchen felt. "I still don't understand why you had to get the glasses at that moment, when I was clearly becoming aro—"

"Because it's what I do." Closing the cupboard door, he tunneled his hand through her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Besides, I didn't want them to break when we started christening the place."

Laughing lightly, she rocked up on her toes, her arms tightening around him as she smiled and mumbled "thanks" against his lips.