This chapter may fall flat-ish. I am not feeling particularly clever or fun at the moment. Also I have homework. Sadface.

Day 6: Brennan feels Booth loads the dishwasher wrong. Bickering ensues.

In the first months they spend shuffling between two apartments, Booth and Brennan each bring with them certain habits into the space of the other. Like introductions of invasive species into a habitat, these practices disturb the natural order of things and inconvenience (one time, even injure) the native party. Brennan trips over hockey sticks in her living room and Booth has an increasingly small space to claim as his in his own bathroom, but they had been so much less only a few months ago when they hadn't been tripping over hockey sticks and fighting for counter space, and it seems like a pretty small price to pay.

Until Brennan happens upon Booth starting her dishwasher.

"What are you doing?"

Booth freezes with his finger over the start button. "The dishes," he replies slowly.

Brennan frowns. "It can't possibly be full... I emptied it just this morning."

"Well it is."

"You're wasting water, Booth. Just wash them in the sink."

"It's full, Bones."

The frown deepens and she reaches around him, yanking the door open and revealing two trays that do indeed look full. But only because dishes are thrown in every which way without even an attempt to conserve space.

She stares at him incredulously and Booth prepares himself for a lecture, but instead, she shakes her head, pushes him out of her way and begins pulling the contents out and setting them on the counter.

"What are you doing?"

"The same thing you were doing. Only, correctly."

"But-

"I've got it, Booth. Honestly, I'd rather just do it myself."

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"You seem mad."

"I'm not."

"Is this a hormone thing?"

He's teasing her, trying to goad her into starting the lecture he knows she wanted to give him, but Brennan only glares and slams a glass on the counter. "It's a you don't listen thing."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like you're so good with the listening either, Bones."

"What? I am a very good listener."

"You never put the cereal back where I like it," Booth points out.

"Well, you are too rough with the pages of books."

"You always forget to lock the door."

"Only when I'm home! And I hate that you don't organise your music alphabetically."

"I hate that you leave earrings lying all over my apartment. It's a hazard, Bones."

"Your soap dispenser is silly."

"That incense you burn makes me sneeze."

The accusations fly back and forth until they eventually run out of steam and stare at one another, wondering where it is they're supposed to go from here.

Eventually, Brennan simply turns back to the dishwasher. "Just let me show you one more time, Booth."

"God. Kill me now."

"Front to back by order of smallest to largest..."

By the time they find a place to call their place, Booth has learned how to be gentle with her books (sometimes) and Brennan has learned to lock the door (when she remembers).

But they still couldn't quite find a middle ground when it came to stacking the dishwasher.