First of all I have to say thank you. To my lovely friend dreamingahead who encouraged me to write a story outside of my comfort zone. To NatesMama who provided me with insights about being pregnant and answered questions I almost didn't dare to ask in the first place. To all of you for following this story. I still don't know how far along the pregnancy I will write, though.

II. A Dance

Angela Montenegro Hodgins was sad. Inside of her new life was growing, but in front of them someone she had laughed with was lying in a simple wooden casket and would never laugh again. Rubbing her belly absentmindedly, she sang along with the others. Put the lime in the coconut.

Her best friend was standing right in front of her. It was surprisingly hard to believe and not hard at all that Brennan had finally slept with Booth. It had been years in the making, and with every month that had passed and they hadn't crossed that line, it had gotten bigger somehow.

Now it was huge.

Angela vowed to herself that she would do her best to make sure that her friend wouldn't back out again. The baby shifted inside of her, and then something else shifted as Angela observed how Brennan linked arms with her partner. It was Brennan initiating the contact, and the gesture was full of tentativeness but oh so trustful. Booth's head tilted, as he was looking down to where her hands were wrapped around his arm. Almost as if he had to ensure that it was really true.

Despite the melancholy of the moment, a smile played around the artist's lips. Maybe no help was needed. Maybe the two would make it on their own...

Saying that linking arms with Booth was as natural as breathing wouldn't be correct. Utterly romantic, maybe even a little bit corny, but plain wrong. Physical contact... it used to be so easy, so subconscious between the two of them, but the natural easiness had vanished. Because it meant something.

Calming her racing heartbeat, Brennan felt his strong muscles underneath the clothes. They were tense, telling her that to him it meant something as well.

Step by step, hug by hug, fight by fight she had given up her imperviousness. It had made her strong, but it had made her weak as well. A few years ago she had buried herself in work when Booth had died. Had locked the dire certainty of never hearing his voice again away in a distant corner of her mind and had moved on. Maybe it would have broken her eventually, but back then there had still been a part of her that couldn't be touched.

Now there weren't parts anymore; they had summed up to a whole, and she wasn't immune against the emotions. The sadness of loss. The warm feeling of belonging. The desire to be comforted.

She needed Booth, but Brennan assumed that it was okay, maybe even wanted. She needed to be close to him, feel him next to her. She needed his eyes, his voice telling her that everything would be okay. She needed his arms around her. She needed to give him just the same feeling of safety.

Brennan had learned that someone had to be quite strong to show weakness, that after a rainy day the sun would shine again. She had learned that tears could be kissed away.

The song faded out as the black car drove around the corner until it was gone. Upon silent agreement they turned as well, following their friends inside. Walking arm in arm with Booth, Brennan rested her head on his shoulder, and his head tilted until his cheek made contact with her hair, touching her gently. Because longing and belonging... for them it had never been a one-way-street.

The rest of the evening was spent with anecdotes about their beloved squintern. A bottle of strong Scotch was circling, only bypassing Angela, and even the pregnant woman regarded the golden spirit with longing eyes. Unable to stand an inch of space between them, Booth and Brennan sat very close together on the couch, and every once in a while a meaningful glance was shared, but it stayed unnoticed by anyone but Angela.

After all, the two partners had always been close, and their friends had stopped questioning it long ago. In this night full of wistfulness and farewell it felt only natural to seek the comfort of another warm body, the sound of breaths, the spark of life in the other one's eyes.

Hodgins was the first to rise, and Angela wrapped an arm around her unsteady husband, giving Brennan one last smile. Cam and Sweets followed shortly after, deciding to share a cab. With their friends gone, the lab felt colder somehow, and Booth and Brennan remained on their couch, no words passing between them, only a bottle.

He could smell the perfume on her warm skin, and closing his eyes, Booth surrendered himself to the intimately familiar sensation of her scent. Then the bottle was back in his hands, and he took a healthy swig.

With a sigh her head fell to his shoulder once more, and his heart opened in perfect synchrony with his arm, as he slipped it around her. She was warm and soft on his shoulder, always heavier than you'd think she would be, but her weight made it even more real. She wasn't a fragile doll, she was... well, she just was.

"I knew you'd catch him."

"Can I hear faith in your voice?" he teased in a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yes," came her candid reply.

"You're neither denying nor rationalizing it?"

His eyes widened in incredulousness.

"No."

"Oh, Bones..."

His voice trailed off as he handed the bottle over to her, and she yawned before taking a sip.

"Maybe we should go home."

He could feel her tired nod.

"But where to?" she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Bones... Temperance... I know we kind of rushed it, and maybe we should take it slow, do it right, but... I really need to stay with you tonight. I cannot stand the idea of you being alone right now, and I don't want to be alone myself. Please... will you let me stay?"

The bottle still in her left hand, Brennan wrapped her right arm around his stomach and nuzzled up to him even further.

"Yes, I... I want you to stay."

He pushed some strands out of her pale face, tucking them behind her ear.

"Let's call a cab."

"Okay."

Over the years he had seen her hailing many cabs. Sometimes he had just waved goodbye, his mind still on their last case, but there had been occasions when she had left him, taking an essential part of him with her. Once he had been very close to sharing a cab with her, but then again, they had often been very close to something.

He had slept with her.

Sometimes it was still so hard to believe, felt so dreamlike, but Booth could still see her uncovered alabaster-white body in his arms. Could still hear her soft sighs, her pleading voice to move faster. Could remember how her eyes had darkened, her mouth had opened in a silent gasp when she had come undone beneath him. The energy and passion that had consumed his body in that very moment had been so unlike everything Booth had ever experienced before, and even he who had always believed in the possibility of two people becoming one had been taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the experience.

It had been a night full of raw emotions and weakness, it hadn't been the moment he had always envisioned for their first time, but somehow... somehow being with Brennan could never be less than amazing and plain right, never be less than... making love.

Entering her body had felt like one inevitable step on a path they had begun walking a very long time ago, and when her silky walls had gripped him in the most intimate caress ever, he had seen images of her fresh and young face back then.

Do you believe it fate?

He still did, and moving inside of her, he had known how right he had been all the time. Every lonely night, every pang of jealousy, every painful step backwards – it had been worth it. Because in the end he was the one she trusted enough to show her tears, he was the one her eyes sought over a crowded room. He was the one she had risked her imperviousness for.

And, hell, it made him feel so damn special.

Booth wasn't a fool, he knew that he was head over heels in love with Temperance Brennan, that there was rarely a thing in this world he would not do for her. Except for maybe one thing... because risking his heart again was the only thing he had been reluctant about the last weeks.

He wasn't oblivious, had noticed her changes, her struggles, her efforts. Of course it had affected him, but he hadn't been sure if he could ever be strong enough to risk losing her again.

Maybe it had been another twist of fate, maybe it just revealed a lot about his character, but it was significant that in the end, when everything had changed for real, it hadn't been about his pain but about hers.

And he had taken her in his arms because there hadn't been a way how he could not have done it.

Tonight he shared that cab with her. Her cold and tiny hand was holding his as she gave her address to the driver, as they drove through the empty streets. Her apartment was as dark as the dull pain of loss that was still hanging above them like a heavy cloud. But she was there, and he was there, and that made it bearable somehow.

Without making fuss about it, Brennan led him to her bedroom, gesturing towards the bathroom, asking if he needed anything.

She was already in bed when he emerged some minutes later, clad in his boxers and one of his own shirts that had ended up at her place somehow. Brennan was wearing a pale top and a weak smile, and when he got into bed beside her, it took him only a heartbeat to reach out to her.

The sheets rustled as she accepted his invitation, nuzzling up to him, and it felt as if she could breathe properly for the first time in hours when his strong, warm arms closed around her.

"We have made it," she whispered, and even though he didn't know if she was talking about them or Broadsky, Booth knew that she was right.

"Yeah," he answered, his palm rubbing her shoulder in light circles.

"Where do we go from here?"

He let go of a long sigh.

"Tomorrow it is Saturday. We will wake up in the light of a new day, have breakfast, and then I have Parker for the afternoon. And then... maybe you'd like to go out with me in the evening?"

"As in a date?" she asked on a whisper.

In the darkness of her room a small smile tugged at his lips.

"After all we've been trough... the word feels wrong somehow. But I really like to spend the evening with you."

"Yes. I mean, I want that as well."

"Bones... you and me..."

"Yes?" she asked, sounding just a little bit breathlessly.

"We are giving this a shot, right? I mean, for real. No more hiding and dancing around."

"Booth... I want to be with you. For real."

"Let's just, I don't know, get over this somehow and move on. Together, I mean."

"Yes."

Suddenly his throat felt very tight, and he placed a hard kiss in her hair.

"You really want to have me?"

Booth flinched inwardly at the pathetic tone in his voice, but part of him was beyond caring. Her small hand moved between their bodies until it could caress his face.

"I've only ever wanted you, Booth. I just couldn't believe that you might want me as well."

"But I do. I do, I do, I do," he chanted, pressing his face deeper into her palm.

Shifting closer, she touched his lips in a chaste kiss full of promises.

"It makes me very happy," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"We're taking it slow, Babe, but we're taking this chance, right?"

"Yes."

He pulled her closer into his arms, burying his face in the silkiness of her hair.

"You mean so much to me," he murmured close to her ear, missing the shimmer of joy in her eyes.

"You mean just as much to me, Booth," she answered. "My heartbeat is accelerated when you hold me, and I find it very hard not to kiss you."

He chuckled.

"I love it when you talk squinty."

Her yawn cut into the sweet intimacy, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her head to his shoulder. She came willingly, finding a comfortable position in his arm, placing her free hand on his chest. His heart was thumping under her palm, and it was so soothing that she had to yawn again.

"You think you can sleep, Baby?"

"I hope so. Booth, about the 'Baby' thing..."

"Yes?"

"Why are you calling me like that?"

He shrugged, causing her to giggle as her head rolled around on his shoulder.

"It's a sign of affection."

"But you already gave me another name. I'm Bones."

He smiled, imagining her pouting face.

"I know. And you will always be my Bones. It's just... one name isn't enough for all the affection I feel for you."

"That's... sweet somehow. Do I have to rename you as well to show the depth of my affection?"

"Nah."

"I could call you 'Gun'," she offered.

"Uh, Bones, just call me 'Booth', okay?"

"Or 'Pie'."

Toying with the soft fabric of his shirt, she imagined calling him like that during an interrogation, and it seemed as if his track of thoughts was following hers because he started to chuckle.

"Lovely Temperance, stop thinking."

"Okay," she finally agreed, saying goodbye to 'Gun' and 'Pie'. After all, the man in her arms had always been Booth to her, and she mused that she could come up with other ways to proof her affection.

He had gotten awfully quiet next to her, and just when his breath started to even out, she raised her voice once more.

"Are we romantically involved now?"

Despite his exhaustion, Booth had to laugh, and her brow furrowed as she lifted her head.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Still laughing, he pulled her down again.

"Absolutely not. You're just cute. Yes, I want to be romantically involved with you, Temperance Brennan."

Nuzzling back into his warm body, she finally lost the battle against her heavy eyelids.

"Goodnight, Booth."

His lips whispered over her head in a featherlight caress.

"Sleep tight my beautiful, wonderful Bones," he breathed, and with a smile on her face, she obeyed.

-BONES-

It was the second time in a row that she woke up next to Seeley Booth, but this time there was nothing awkward about it. He was still sound asleep, his handsome face peacefully calm, and outside the sun was shining. A quick glance at her watch told her that it was past nine o'clock, and even though it was Saturday, Brennan couldn't remember the last time she had slept that long. Or that good.

Unable to stop herself, she traced the contours of his face with her fingers, and his nose wrinkled. Something inside of her felt very warm suddenly, as she thought that this strong and solid man could look cute as well. One more light caress, and then his own hand snapped up, catching hers.

"Hmm," he growled, and her face lit up in a smile.

"It's morning, Booth."

"I figured," he murmured, his voice raspy with sleep.

"Let's get up," she announced, already freeing herself out of his arms, but with little effort he drew her back into the pillows.

"Are you in a hurry here?"

"I have a date tonight," she smiled, and for a moment his unguarded face fell before his dazed mind switched on, reminding him that he himself was her date.

Finally cracking an eye open, he tried to focus on her face. She was as bright as the sun itself, her dark hair tousled, her blue eyes deep and crystal clear. Her cheeks possessed a healthy glow, and the breath whooshed out of his lungs.

"You're so beautiful," he uttered, and then she actually blushed.

His hand moved to her face, grazing her rosy cheeks in a tender gesture, and she felt warm to his touch.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and his lips curved up.

"How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly good. I suppose your presence is very soothing."

"Only soothing?" he asked, arching a playful eyebrow.

Accepting the challenge, she didn't break eye contact, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

"Soothing when it comes to sleep. Arousing when it comes to other things."

His face sobered up somehow.

"Baby... making love to you has been amazing," he whispered, and she felt a rush of longing at his sweet words.

"I know," she answered, her gaze zooming in on his full lips.

There was this look in her eyes, the one that filled him with hot desire, and he almost had to laugh about the strong reaction she could evoke in him. One glance, all it took was one pale blue glance, and his body was burning for her. But he had possessed her in a rush once, he wanted to have a real date and a goodnight kiss before undressing her the next time. Mustering every ounce of willpower, he tore his gaze away from her.

"Breakfast?" he asked, and she looked almost disappointed.

Gnawing her bottom lip, she regarded him with big eyes.

"Is this some signal I miss?" she finally asked, and he pulled her into his arms, inhaling deeply.

"No, Baby, this is just me trying desperately to take it slow. Be sure that I want you in every sense of the word."

Exhaling in relief, she let him hold her.

"I'm bad at this."

"No, you're just wonderful. I want to take you out, I want to see you in a dress you have chosen for me, I want to spoil you. Make you laugh, make you feel really good. And of course I want you, I want you so much."

Her body had gone pliant in his arms.

"You already make me feel really good."

"I could make you feel even better by cooking breakfast for you. I promise not to cook any fruit."

She smiled into his chest, wondering how she could feel that good after such a sad day.

"That sounds acceptable."

The fruit was fresh, the toast crispy and the coffee strong. The late morning sun was witnessing their very private breakfast, and when they said goodbye to each other a few hours later, he savored his new-found right to hug her just because. She smelled like Saturday and oranges, and, giving in to temptation, he brushed her warm lips with his own. Twice.

It was a very good day.

-BONES-

"Parker Booth, hurry up or we will be late."

"I'm coming, Dad."

The curly-haired boy hurried to gather his belongings, almost stumbling over his untied shoelaces, and Booth rolled his eyes.

"Can I sit in the front next to you?"

Taking in the size of his son, Booth gave in. It seemed as if the boy had grown again since he had seen him the last time.

"Sure. You wanna drive as well?"

His son watched him with mouth agape.

"May I?"

"No."

"That was mean, Dad."

Booth ruffled his son's hair.

"Sorry, Parks. You had a nice time?"

"Yeah, the movie was really cool."

Steering his vehicle through the early evening streets, Booth smiled as his eyes wandered to the blond boy next to him every once in a while. His kid.

"Parker, there is something I want to talk about."

"Uh," Parker twisted his face. "That sounds awfully serious. Is Hannah back?"

"Ahem, what?"

"The journalist woman?" Parker added helpfully.

"I know who Hannah is. Why do you think she might be back?"

"The last time you've been so serious was when you wanted me to meet her. And then when you told me that she was gone."

"You didn't like her?"

Taking a deep breath, the boy thought about his mother's words.

"I totally support and respect your choices, Dad. I want you to be happy."

"You didn't like her?" Booth asked incredulously.

"No, she was okay."

"But?"

"I like Bones."

The man gasped at the boy's words.

"So you want Bones to be my girlfriend?"

"Of course I do. I've always told you so."

"Why? How?"

Parker rolled his eyes.

"She's funny, she's beautiful, she's amazing."

"So this is not about a pool anymore?"

"The pool is great as well."

"So, what do you think?"

The boy tried to recall his mother's words one more time.

"Sometimes things are complicated, and love alone isn't enough. I find that totally stupid, by the way."

Booth chuckled.

"You might like what I want to announce, then."

Parker's head flung around, his eyes wide open.

"Bones is your girlfriend?"

"I think so."

"You think so? Dad, this is a thing you should know. Have you kissed her?"

"Ahem, yes."

"Have you told her that you love her?"

"Not yet. I feel slightly uncomfortable, by the way. You're a child, why are you so interested?"

"Because Mom will totally ask me."

"Parker!"

The boy giggled.

"Come on, Dad, after all, she has told me for years not to give up hope. Relax, we're on your side."

"Ahem..."

"I'm proud, Dad."

Booth blushed, feeling as if the roles were suddenly reversed.

"Ahem, thanks, Buddy."

"About that pool..."

-BONES-

8 pm that night found Temperance Brennan standing in front of her luxurious closet. A dress. Booth had mentioned a dress, and she would wear one for him... but which one? There was the black one she had worn during the opening of the Egyptian exhibition in the Jeffersonian when she had almost kissed him. Or an emerald green one, but somehow she associated that dress with an unpleasant time. There was a sinfully red piece of garment as well, her Roxy dress from all those years ago.

Brennan dismissed them all. Tonight she wanted to look special, and she didn't want any memories to overshadow their new beginning. Browsing the garments, her eyes suddenly spotted a piece of midnight blue satin. It was fairly new, and she was sure that Booth had never seen it before. Midnight blue it would be.

The satin was flowing around her body as she pulled it over hear head, grazing her soft skin in the most sensual way. She had already pinned up her hair, put on a trace of make-up, and when she regarded herself in the mirror, Brennan was taken aback by her own appearance. She wasn't stupid, she knew that she was good-looking, but tonight there was a certain glow around her she had never seen before. Maybe it was because she wanted to be pretty.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been looking forward to a date that much, and when a knock on her door interrupted her solitude, her heart skipped a beat. With a last glance at her own reflection in the mirror, Brennan set herself in motion.

Booth was lingering in her door frame like he had done a hundred times before, but this time he didn't wear one of his work suits and a single pink rose was in his hand.

"Hi Booth," she greeted him with a bright smile, and her elegant beauty took his breath away.

When he had regained his composure, he lowered his head, brushing her cheek with his lips.

"You look wow, Bones."

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself. Is that a new suit?"

"Yeah."

Reaching out his hand, he offered her the flower.

"For me?"

"Don't tell anyone, it's from the Jeffersonian rose garden."

"You've stolen it?"

He shrugged, almost a little bit embarrassed.

"I wanted to pluck it myself, and that was the only place I knew."

Lifting the flower to her nose, Brennan inhaled the rich scent.

"It's beautiful."

He watched her as she sashayed into her kitchen to put the rose into a vase, and when his arms wrapped around her from behind, she was only a little bit surprised that he had followed her. With a smile she leaned back into his body, and on her belly his warm hand drew patterns over midnight blue satin.

"You look stunning," he murmured, and she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck.

Accepting the invitation, he nuzzled the soft skin with his nose.

"And you smell wonderful," he added.

"I'm very fond of your scent as well," she answered, surrounded by his very unique combination of after-shave, detergent and man.

"How was your day?" he asked, still rocking her.

"Quite uneventful. But I wrote a letter to Vincent's mother. I'm not sure if it has been such a great idea, but I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated her son, how exceptional he was."

"Oh, Bones, it was a very good idea."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You know, it's okay if you don't want to go out this evening."

"You think it is too soon?"

He shrugged behind her.

"I believe that nobody should ever tell another person how they are supposed to feel."

"I want to be with you tonight, Booth."

"It doesn't change the fact that we will miss him or that we are sad, does it?"

"Let's do it, Booth. We've already waited so long."

"I've missed you today."

He could hear her sharp intake of breath, but then her body softened again.

"I've missed you, too," she admitted on a whisper.

She turned around in his arms, and for a moment he drowned in the pale blue depths of her eyes.

"Hi," he smiled, and her own face was brightened by joy and anticipation.

"Where are we going?"

"Dinner. Dancing."

"You aren't telling me more?"

"Await your surprise, my dear."

He had booked them a table at her favorite vegetarian restaurant, and his considerateness touched her deeply. The food was delicious, even though it wasn't accompanied by wine – the Scotch from last night was still too fresh in their minds – and Booth didn't mind the lack of meat. Conversation was flowing easily between them, after all, they had shared a lot of meals, and finding a topic had never been their problem. As always, she stole his food, and as always he teased her about the healthy crap on her plate, but somehow it was even better tonight. His arm brushed hers every once in a while, and every time she leaned into his touch.

Her face was unguarded, smiling a lot, and for once he didn't have to bury the things he felt for her in his heart. Booth was sure that she could see pure adoration on his face, but it was almost as if she reveled in it. The dark blue color of her dress was a perfect contrast to the milky-white shade of her skin, and she looked as smooth as he knew she was.

He took her to an exquisite little blues club after dinner, and her gracious body felt featherlight and solid at the same time when they danced. Her face was burrowed in the crook of his neck, and he remembered the last dance he had shared with her.

It had been like a kiss from a rose in every sense of the word, beautiful and painful at the same time. His heart had been so raw back then, and he hadn't been allowed to love her. Holding her had been the sweetest punishment ever inflicted on him.

With a deep sigh he pushed the memories away. Tonight the rose didn't have any thorns, and their dance was nothing but perfect. He could feel her full curves where she was pressed against his body, and his hand moved in a possessive gesture over her satin-clad back.

They danced for a long time, feeling every beat of longing, living the melody. Somehow they were like the saxophone solo itself, summing up to a perfect whole despite every contradiction. The club owner watched them with a wistful smile, remembering a time when he had felt young enough to love himself. He knew the big FBI guy from a case a few years ago, and sometimes he had come back alone, drinking his beer, listening to the music. There had always been that special expression in his dark eyes, as if he knew exactly what the music was talking about, and, watching the agent with his beautiful woman, the old man suddenly understood.

There is only one thing that makes you appreciate the painful beauty of blues more than a broken heart... and that would be a healed one.

The tunes followed Booth and Brennan as they left the club much later, walking to his car arm in arm. The night had been covered by a strange kind of magic, but, nonetheless, it was still them. It was them like they had ever been, only more. Righter, somehow.

He drove her back to her building in silence, guiding her inside. Then, and only then did she speak.

"Thank you, Booth."

He kissed her hand in a gesture that was as old as chivalry itself.

"My pleasure, Bones."

"No, not only thank you for the night. It has been wonderful, but thank you for taking it slow as well. I think I understand now why you insisted on it."

Drawing her into his arms, he whispered, "You feel really good now?"

"I feel," she took a deep breath to think about the right word, "cherished somehow. Is that weird?"

"No, that is just right. You're so precious to me," he murmured into her hair.

"Will you... will you stay?"

"I want to, but I won't."

Nodding, she tried to hide her disappointment.

"I understand."

Lifting his head, he tapped her chin with his fingers, and then his mouth lowered to hers, and in his kiss there were the saxophone and the stars of the night. His lips were full and warm over hers, and with a sigh she parted them, inviting his tongue. He met her with tenderness, kissing her intimately, promising her that there would come a time when he would stay. When he wouldn't leave again.

Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, caressing the soft hair on his nape, and she could feel the warmth of his hands where they rested on her waist.

When oxygen became a necessity, they broke the kiss, looking at each other with bright eyes, and his chest felt almost too tight to bear.

"I understand," she repeated her words, but this time there was a shimmer in her big orbs, telling him that she really and truly did.

She knew that she would lie awake for a while, thinking about him, touching her lips every now and then, and he knew that she would do it. He knew that he would miss her head on his shoulder, that he would like to stay very much, and she knew that as well.

After all... the saxophone had told them so.

To be continued...

That was probably the last first date I ever wrote. Sigh. Still have to get used to the new canon...