The following morning they sit on a commercial flight headed to D.C. She sits there with her thoughts as he puts the bags overhead. He takes his seat and they fasten their belts. As the pilot announces take off his hand roams. He holds her hand in his. She turns and looks at him. He doesn't stop, he just waits for an objection. He doesn't receive one, but she does begin to talk.
"Why do you still have your ring on?" she questions.
"Why don't you?"
"What if they're at the airport,"
"Now you're just being paranoid," he tells her.
"Please take it off,"
"Ok," he slips the ring off and places it in his pocket.
"We say nothing. We have to act normal,"
"You expect me to act normal after yesterday morning, and then afternoon, and last night, and this morning?"
She huffs and grips his hand tightly.
"I don't want them to know,"
"Why not?"
"They'll separate us,"
"What if they don't?"
"We don't even know if this is going to work,"
"The marriage or not telling them?"
"The marriage,"
"It'll work Temperance,"
"How do you know?"
"Because I love you, and you love me,"
She doesn't object, "We have to be very discreet. I don't want Angela to catch on,"
"So should we start bickering now?"
"I know how to avoid Angela but how are we going to keep this from Sweets?"
"We've just got to be creative," he answers.
She rests her head on his shoulder. He pets her hair with his free hand.
"This is nice," she admits allowing her guard to fall.
"What?"
"This," she answers.
"Do you love me?"
"When did you become so needy?"
"Can you answer the question?"
"Do you really have to ask?"
"Yes. I want to know,"
"I...," she finds extreme difficulty in answering the question.
"A simple yes or no will do,"
"Yes,"
"So why didn't you say anything?"
"The line,"
"What line?"
"The line you drew. The one you said shouldn't be crossed,"
"It's an imaginary line,"
"I don't like crossing lines,"
"You cross them all the time. What was different with this one?"
"I respect you. I didn't want to cross the line without permission,"
"You have my permission. You can cross the line all day,"
"I just... you know that I'm not good with feelings. It's so easy just to compartmentalize,"
"For you,"
"I usually talk to you about things that concern my emotions. I couldn't exactly discuss it with you,"
"Why?"
"I didn't want to lose you as a partner, or a friend,"
"Haven't you figured it out yet?"
"Figured what out?"
"You can't get rid of me,"
"I hope not," she answers smiling.
"I really want this to work, even if it happened because of the booze,"
"It didn't," she answers, "You would have needed a lot more alcohol to affect my centers of reasoning,"
"How would I know that?"
"You wouldn't,"
"I do now,"
"Yeah,"
"Is something bothering you?"
"No why?"
"You're just quiet,"
"How am I quiet? We've been sitting here talking,"
"I just mean you aren't as defensive as usual,"
"I think you've penetrated the walls," that was the understatement of the year–she just didn't know it yet, "and I'm sleepy."
"Then take a nap. Do you want a pillow?"
"No your shoulder is just fine," she tells him.
The following morning Temperance slips into her office unnoticed. Less than half an hour later she is plugging away on case reports. As she reads over her notes she realizes that someone is standing over her. She slowly looks up. She finds a pair of brown eyes staring down at her.
"What are you doing here? I thought I got rid of you,"
"That's a warm welcome,"
"Seriously what are you doing here?"
"We've got a case,"
"Oh,"
"I brought coffee,"
"Thanks I need it,"
"So are you ready to go?"
"Let me get my bag,"
She grabs her bag and follows him out the door.
"Can I drive?"
"Nope," he answers.
"Why not?"
"You drove when we were in Las Vegas,"
"Once,"
"Twice,"
"To a location and back counts as once,"
"Twice,"
"It was once,"
"I hate arguing with you,"
"Why?"
"Because you're so bullheaded. You refuse to admit when you're wrong,"
"Only when I'm not wrong,"
"You're totally wrong,"
"No I'm not,"
"Oh you know we're supposed to go see Sweets later,"
"Great. I'm looking forward to it,"
"No you're not you hate going to see him,"
"Not as much as you do,"
"You hate it more. You hate psychology,"
"That's true I do hate psychology,"
"So rationally it would make sense if you hated going to see a psychologist,"
"This is such a stupid argument,"
"Why?"
"Because you're arguing about rationality,"
"So?"
"I'm the rational one. You're the one that uses his gut,"
"You should be more quiet,"
"Why Booth?"
"Because people are trying to work,"
"I'm not being any louder than you are,"
"Yes you are. I'm using an inside voice, you're not,"
"I think that work is what makes us bicker,"
"Why?"
"We do the same thing for every case. We visit the crime scene, I decide who the victim is and what happened, we go to lunch and discuss it, and we bicker,"
"That doesn't make sense,"
"Oh and your argument did?"
"You're impossible,"
"Are we going or not?" she questions as they stand in front of the car.
"I'm going I don't know what you're doing. I can't control what you do,"
She rolls her eyes as she climbs into the car.
"Sweets why are you in Brennan's office?"
"I could ask you the same Angela,"
"Well she's my best friend, and she just spent several days in Vegas with a certain FBI agent,"
"You think that something happened that wasn't professional?"
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,"
"Does that really ever hold true?"
"I wouldn't know. But back to you... why are you in here?"
"Same reason you are,"
"You want to know if they did it,"
"What?"
"You're just as curious as I am to know if they had sex with each other,"
"That is not why I'm here,"
"Sweets don't lie,"
"I just want to observe them,"
"I don't like this–you two together does not sit well with me," Temperance says as she and Booth waltz in.
"Why not?"
"You're in my office. It makes me think that you two are conspiring,"
"To do what?" Sweets questions.
Temperance shrugs.
"Well what do you think Angela?" Sweets questions.
"Uh uh,"
"You sure?"
"Yep no bells or alarms went off. It didn't happen," she says sadly.
"I'll trust your opinion," Sweets smiles.
"Trust her opinion on what exactly?" Seeley asks him as Angela leaves the room.
"Nothing," he lies through a goofy smile.
