Note: This is a short one, but I love the idea of them arguing about gravy. (It was almost a lot shorter – I almost made it all-dialogue.)
Thanks to all who reviewed, and especially to:
sleeplessinatlanta, pandarabbit, Incendiary Device, River, Quirky-Misty, HarrissBoBarriss , Viktorija, Poetgirl925, felixlee14, WhiteRose621, and 7 who provided the following suggestions for G:
games, gambling, gravedigger, grieving, gravy, gentlemanly, geriatric, gone, goo, green, greasy, graphic novels, giddy, giggles, girlfriend, graceful, goose/geese, gratuitous, gallantry, gang, giraffe, geography, gruffy, griffin, grief, Gnosticism, grated cheese, game shows, grapes, grape juice, grandpa
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Relationship status: Established romantic relationship
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The room was quiet, the only sound the occasional hum of traffic on the street below and the occasional restless movement from the wide awake woman in the bed. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. "Booth, wake up!"
Startled out of a sound sleep, Booth's first thought was that she was in some sort of danger. "Huh? What's wrong, Bones?" Before the words had fully left his mouth, he was sitting up and reaching for his weapon.
"I don't know how to make gravy."
Booth relaxed back against the pillows. "Bones, it's 4 a.m. – there is no need to make gravy."
Sounding increasingly upset, she explained, "But in 12 hours, your mom and your grandfather and Jared will be here for Thanksgiving dinner, and I don't know how to make gravy."
Still optimistic that he would be able to get some sleep before the alarm went off, Booth replied, "Bones, no one cares if you know how to make gravy. I don't know how to make gravy either. Now go back to sleep, OK?"
He closed his eyes, only to hear her get out of bed. He assumed she was going to the bathroom or to get a glass of water until he heard the familiar sound of her laptop booting up. "Why are you turning on your laptop?"
Almost muttering to herself, Brennan said, "There must be somewhere that tells you how to make gravy."
He sat up again. "Bones, you don't even eat meat. Stop obsessing about gravy!"
"I'm not obsessing. I just need to know how to make gravy!"
"Bones, it is 4 a.m.! You're being ridiculous!"
It was quiet enough that he could hear the slight sniffle from across the room. "Bones, what are you – are you crying?"
"No!", she choked.
"You're crying." He got out of bed and walked over to where she was sitting hunched over her laptop keyboard. The screen was filled with search results for "gravy instructions".
"No, I'm not."
He reached out, pulling her to her feet and wrapping her in his arms. "Bones, look, I don't understand why you're so upset about gravy."
She lifted her head from his chest and said, "Booth, I … you're right, I'm being silly. Go back to sleep."
He put his hand under her chin and gently lifted it so that he could look into her eyes. "Bones, I really want to know."
Turning her head away as if ashamed, she said, "It's just … I know your family doesn't approve that we're living together without getting married, and I'm sure they would rather you were with someone normal who would marry you and have kids instead of some freak from a family of criminals who spends her time surrounded with bones. I just wanted them to like me."
He pulled her tighter into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "Bones, I promise you, my family will like you – because they know how much I love you, and how happy you make me every day.It doesn't matter whether this is the most disastrous Thanksgiving dinner in history and we end up ordering pizza. Now come back to bed and get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll figure out how to make gravy together, OK?"
He could feel her nod against his chest. "Partners?"
She looked up and a shaky grin spread across her face. "Partners."
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And … H? Hospital? Helicopter? Horse? Heart? Hostage?