His head lolled back against the pillow the nurse had kindly provided.
The movie, while a much better option than pacing with baited breath in the dull waiting-room, was slowly putting him to sleep.
And if there was one thing Booth did not want to do any time soon, it was sleep. He needed to stay awake and ensure Bones was still alright.
It was highly illogical and he was positive she would tell him so. But he didn't care. He knew if he slept, he'd be plagued with nightmares and fits. If staying up another night – or thirty - meant that he'd be there if something happened, he'd gladly do it.
"Booth?" her voice cut through the background noise created by Casablanca emanating from the television.
He turned his head towards her from across the room on the sofa and arched a brow in reply. He couldn't prevent the gentle smile from gracing his mouth; merely hearing her voice after thinking the worst had happened… it was enough to make him smile at the drop of a hat.
"Angela said it was odd that I asked you to be my medical proxy."
"Does it bother you?" he replied softly. "We can get the forms back, Bones."
"I don't have any doubts that it was the best decision. I trust you," she said quickly. "But apparently that sort of decision-making power is typically only distributed when two people are in a relationship."
He was tired. And it had taken a great deal of effort for Booth to follow that rather lengthy sentence she just spewed. He sighed. "She's right, Bones. Not many guys at the FBI have medical-power with their partners. If it bothers you-"
"It doesn't bother me," she interrupted quickly, rolling as much as she could so she was on her side facing him across the small, private room.
She watched him for a few moments, his attention having returned to the movie. "Do we have a relationship?" she asked softly, her fingers toying nervously with the fabric of the bed-sheet.
He stood, her eyes following him as relocated to the chair next to her bed. He slipped his fingers through hers, effectively stilling her fidgeting motion. "We're work-partners," he supplied, knowing it sounded weak even to his own ears.
She nodded. "Is it odd that I bought a Christmas gift for Parker?"
"Bones, you didn't have to get him anything! He likes just coming over and hanging out with you."
Brennan frowned, understanding the miscommunication came from her end, not his. "That's not what I mean," she said. "I… did Perotta get him anything? She's a work-partner."
"No."
"Was I out-of-line?"
Booth squeezed her fingers in his hand. "Bones, he loved the year-pass to the natural-history museum. His first question when we got in the car was to ask me if you'd be able to go with us. He wants to be a squint, just like you."
"I know that you don't care for that idea."
"Didn't care for it," Booth shook his head. "Past tense. Now I think it's a great idea. He won't be out getting shot at. He'll probably be in line for a scholarship – which would be great. Let me tell ya, government work doesn't leave a lot of money to squirrel away for college," he chuckled. "He's a smart kid. But if he gets smarter by hanging out with you and Max and Cam and Hodgins and … I'll be proud no matter what, Bones."
"You shouldn't worry about tuition," she uttered without thinking. She was distracted by the feel of his thumb tracing patterns across her knuckles. His questioning gaze never wavered from her eyes and Brennan relented with a sigh. "Last year I invested some money into a high-interest account for him. By the time he reaches college, there should be sufficient funds to cover his undergraduate degree."
She felt Booth's fingers tense in her hand. "Bones, you shouldn't have done that."
"I know you feel uncomfortable discussing our economic differences," she said quickly. "Which is why I never mentioned it. But I wanted to do something – he's a very special boy, Booth. He deserves every opportunity and if I can help with that, I'd like to."
Booth sighed and let out a small wry chuckle. "You know this is the stuff that makes other people think we're more than just work partners."
He looked at her blue eyes, seeing that she didn't understand his meaning. "Bones, there's no other person I know who would take their own wealth and invest it for my son when there's nothing in it for them."
"Cam or Hodgins would have, had you asked."
"But that's just it, Bones. I didn't have to ask. You did it on your own – because you care. Because you care about my family. That's just... that's what makes you my best friend, too, not just my work-partner."
She felt the corners of her mouth curl into a small grin and she tried not to wince at the pull to her cracked lips. "You're my best friend, too, Booth."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small yellow jar of Carmax lip balm and began to unscrew the top. "Do you need a different label for what we are, Bones? Or is 'best friends' ok?" He dipped his finger into the pot without preamble and gentle reached out to trace her lips with the moisturizing balm. She didn't flinch but felt her breath catch in her throat at his gentle touch.
When her lips had been thoroughly coated, he dipped his finger back in the pot and proceeded to treat his own lips.
She blinked, realizing what an intimate gesture it had been and that no other person in her life, other than her mother when she was very young, had ever put chapstick on her lips.
"Angela's my best friend, too," she said softly. "But she's never put lip balm on me before."
He paused for a beat and a look of fear passed his features and quickly was hidden behind his charm smile. "Well when you say it that way and sound ungrateful, I'll just let you do it yourself next time," he teased.
Brennan rolled her eyes, having learned that particular tone meant he was kidding. "Angela also packed a bag before coming to Florida. Perhaps she's just the more logical friend."
"You know, since you're feeling a little mean right now, I'm just going to go sit over on that couch and ignore you while you pick on me!" he said, moving from the chair.
Her fingers closed tightly around his before he was able to pull his hand from her grip. "Booth, thank you."
"For the chapstick? No problem. Thanks for not biting my finger off," he replied with a wink.
"For being here," she corrected. "Despite what I would have imagined, you being here makes me incredibly comfortable. Thank you."
"You thought I'd make you uncomfortable?" Booth asked, reaching over with his free hand and pulling her blankets higher on her body, ensuring she was 'tucked-in' as he would with Parker.
Brennan forced herself to trust him with an admission she had never thought she'd ever voice. "I don't like showing weakness in front of you. I value your opinion too much," she managed to mutter. "Yet it is incredibly illogical that you're the one person I can trust to be weak in front of."
She averted her gaze, not sure that she could handle direct eye-contact after such a baring of herself.
"I trust you that much, too, Temperance," he whispered, leaning down and brushing his lips against her temple. "And that is what makes us more than best-friends."
His words seemed to echo in her ears as he went back to his spot on the couch.
Brennan's lids felt heavy and, while she hated hospitals and traditionally found them nearly impossible to sleep in, sleep wasn't elusive this time. She knew it was because of the protective watch Booth held over her as her eyes fluttered shut.
