Booth opened his eyes. He wasn't feeling like running a marathon yet, but it was a big improvement upon the way he felt the day before. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur. He vaguely remembered coming home. He didn't know exactly when he changed out of his suit, or why his boxers were damp.

To his surprise he was feeling hungry. He got out of bed and jumped when he saw something stirring on the couch.

"Booth?" she asked sleepily. "Go back to bed!"

"Bones? What the hell are you doing on my couch? Why can't you ever just call before you come over?"

"You don't remember yesterday?"

"Not much. I remember breakfast. I remember a new case. I remember throwing up said breakfast. I remember you taking me home…and then after that, it's kinda fuzzy."

"Good," she answered blankly. "Wouldn't want you remembering anything embarrassing," she said, looking everywhere but at him.

"How high was my fever anyway?"

"104.5 at its highest," she said, reaching for the thermometer. "You're sweaty now, though, so that means it broke!" she added enthusiastically. She felt his forehead. "Open," she said, thermometer at the ready, and stuck it in his mouth for extra reassurance.

"You're not dizzy still are you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Not queasy or nauseated?" He shook his head again.

She took the thermometer out of his mouth. "It's 99.7 now. Still a little high, but much better."

"Who are you calling?" Booth asked when she got out her phone.

"I need to call a cab. I drove your car."

"Let me at least drive you back to the lab, Bones. It's the least I can do. Wait a minute…I let you drive? I must have been out of my mind!"

"Booth, you need to rest. You've still got a low-grade fever, so therefore you're still contagious. Hello?" she said into the cell phone "Yes? Capital Cab Company? I need transportation to the Jeffersonian Institution from...what's your address Booth?"

"Was it that bad?"

"Booth, I need to get to work. I missed a day already on this case!"

"I didn't say anything I might regret, did I?"

"You wanted me to put a helmet on a cookie and you kept looking for your unicorn and the indicator that you truly weren't in your right mind was the fact that you let me drive?" she said, shaking her head, careful to omit one tiny detail. "How alpha male of you. Now, can you please give me your address?"

"What? I just always drive. You squint, I drive. That's how we roll."

She shrugged. "It's not as though it's the first time I've seen you without mental facilities," she said, grinning.

"I'd say that was a cheap-shot, but you're not capable of kidding."

"I wasn't trying to say you are dumb, Booth," she said. "I'm just saying you weren't acting like yourself."

"Well, thanks for takin' care of me," he said lamely.

"We're partners. We take care of each other," she reminded him. "That's what we do. You would've done the same for me."

"Hello? HELLOOOO! Miss? Ma'am?" a loud man's voice was saying on the phone. "Tell your boyfriend to shut it! You two love-birds can kiss and make up and have all the ensuing make-up sex you want until we get there, but right now, I need that address!"

"We're partners!" They both said at the same time.

"Whatever. I can't pick you up if I don't have an address!" said the dispatch so loud that Booth could here it.

Booth took the phone. "Eaglebrooke Apartments, number 4, corner of Pike and Cherry."

"Thank you," said the dispatch with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, okay. Someone will be there in five minutes. And sorry about the lovebird comment. You two were acting worse than me and my wife of thirty-five years."

"He said he's sorry about the love-bird comment," Booth reported.

"It's all right, sir," Brennan answered loud enough for the man to hear. "You made a common assumption that is only natural in a couple-oriented society…" Brennan answered, but she didn't get to finish her explanation, because Booth had hung up the phone.

"You didn't let me finish!" Brennan protested.

"Sometimes less is more, Bones," Booth replied.

"There's nothing wrong with using opportunities to educate everyone, Booth," Brennan argued.

"There's educating people and then there's just plain showing off," he countered.

"I do NOT show off!" She retorted.

Booth sighed. "I don't have the energy to argue right now," he said. He glanced out his window. "And besides, it looks like your cab's here."

A honking horn sounded from the street.

"If you start feeling worse, call me," she said, gathering her coat and purse.

"Go forth and be squinty, Bones" Booth replied.

"There's some chicken broth in the cupboard and Jell-o in the refrigerator." She said. "It's chocolate," she yelled from the cab.

"Thanks," he said, waving. And then to himself in an almost-whisper: "for everything."

*~*~*~*~

Being an FBI Agent all these years meant that he had to be fairly adept at reading people. He had to be able to tell when someone was lying, or lying by omission.

He had a knack for reading people he barely knew. He knew Bones better than anyone, and she definitely wasn't being entirely forthcoming with him earlier.

He didn't have much time to dwell on this. His cell phone vibrating on the coffee table interrupted his reverie.

"Booth," he answered.

"Oh my GOD, Booth," Hodgins was saying on the other end of the line. "You just made me stinking rich."

"Hodgins, you're already stinking rich. Wait a minute…how did I make you rich?"

"I won the pool!"

"What pool?"

"The 'When Are Booth and Brennan Finally Going to Do It?' Pool. Angela already told me everything. Hey! Question…does she say the anatomically correct names of things in bed?"

"Angela already told you *what* exactly?" Booth demanded.

"Wait a sec…you didn't…oh boy…"

"You guys seriously need a hobby if my love-life is an on-going discussion. And what makes you think I know *anything* about what Bones says in bed?"

"Not your entire love-life," Hodgins corrected. "Just as is it pertains to Dr. Brennan."

"Then there's nothing for anyone to discuss because my love-life does not *include* her." Not that he didn't wish otherwise with every fiber of his being, but he wasn't about to tell *him* that, or anyone else, any time soon.

"I am sooo sorry, Booth. Oh my God…I just assumed…Ange told me you finally confessed your feelings to her and I just thought…"

"She said what?!?" Booth exploded.

His mind was reeling. He *knew* Bones was hiding something. Why did everyone in the universe seem to know what came out of his mouth before he did?

"Dr. Brennan called her in a panic yesterday because apparently you told her you loved her."

"I also let her drive! And apparently I wanted a cookie to have a helmet and was looking for my unicorn. I was out of my mind!"

"Yeah, well, sometimes the real truth comes out when we're sans the brain cells to lie."

"Just drop it, Hodgins, okay?"

"So nothing happened last night? Or this morning?"

"Nothing happened! She slept on the couch. She took a cab to work. And if any of the other squints get wind of this, it's not gonna be pretty."

"It's kinda too late for that, Booth," Hodgins said.

If he were a different sort of person, he would've had a hit put out on her. But for now, he'd have to settle for torture. Sticking her in a room and with Teletubbies on loop for seventy-two hours straight should do the trick nicely. Or maybe Barney.

"Seriously. Get another hobby. NOW. Or I'll show you what the government REALLY does to torture people."

"Hey, don't blame the messenger, man."

"Listen, *man*," Booth growled. "The last thing I remember about yesterday was Bones taking me home. After that it's all a blur. "Oh God…" he trailed off, rubbing his forehead.

"You've got to fix this, Booth." Hodgins said.

"HOW! She didn't mention any of this before she left, and she sure was in a hurry to leave as soon as she realized I was on the mend. Probably means…she doesn't want…"

"What it *means* is she is scared."

"Scared of what, exactly?" Booth demanded.

"Scared of admitting the truth, facing possible rejection, and trading a moment of passion for the friendship you two share," Sweets' voice chimed in.

"I was going to say scared of taking a risk, but that one works, too," Hodgins added.

"Oh my God, Sweets? You too? Hodgins, are you on speaker-phone?"

"I'm interested from a purely clinical stand-point," Sweets said.

"What would a twelve-year-old like you know about big grown-up things like the complexities of an adult relationship?" Booth snapped.

"You mean love? As it pertains to a romantic relationship? Let's see…I got some last night, and it appears that you didn't," Sweets gloated. "Who's the authority on the subject now, lover-boy?"

"Booth, you've got to fix this," Hodgins said.

"How?"

"Get sick again," Hodgins and Sweets said together.

"What?! No!!"

"You don't actually have to get sick again…" Sweets said.

"Just give her a reason to think you're dilirius again," Hodgins finished.

"Listen Frick-and-Frack," Booth said, "I don't think there's anything to fix. She's obviously pretending I didn't say that. I'm willing to play along. Why can't everyone else just get on board?"

"Because," Sweets replied with a harassed sigh. "You know the truth. You both know the truth. Neither of you want to admit it because neither of you wants to get hurt. And by avoiding the truth, you're making yourselves hella miserable."

"Life is short, Booth," Hodgins said. "Why would you spend one more second of one more day without her knowing how you really feel?"

"It's not that simple, guys," Booth replied.

"You're scared," Sweets said. "I get that."

"I am NOT scared," Booth retorted.

"Then tell her!" They said together, and then hung up.