Author's Notes:

Here's the "hippie" elevator music, for your listening pleasure. I was listening to it as I wrote this chapter, so I just had to write it in! (Take out spaces) lullatone. bandcamp .com/album/elevator-music

This ended up way longer than expected, which is likely a good thing because I will not be able to update for a few days. Hopefully this will hold you over. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. (;


"We could take the stairs," Brennan declared as she and Booth neared the elevator door in the Hodgins' condo building. The stairway door was just to the left.

Booth punched the up arrow, which only briefly lit red before the metallic doors in front of them parted. He gestured with his arms for Brennan to go in ahead of him. "Bones, you're pregnant. Get in the elevator."

"They're only on the third floor. I'm not disabled, Booth." Booth raised an eyebrow, looking Brennan sternly in the eye. She stared back at him stubbornly for only a few seconds, noting the concern in his tone and face. She sighed and, with a little smile, gave in, "Fine."

"Tell me again, why does Angela want to see us?" Booth asked as he and Brennan stepped into the enclosed space. They had received an invitation from Angela for dinner tonight, although there was no doubt in Booth's mind Angela was planning more than just dinner. There was some elevator music playing, but not the traditional low-key classical stuff that made Booth want to bang his head on the walls in frustration. This was electronic and peppy. 'Of course. Hodgins lives in an upscale condo. Naturally, there's hippie elevator music.'

"I believe she wants to broil us," Brennan stated absently as she pressed the button labeled with a three.

"It's grill… I feel like I've…" Booth felt a surge of déjà vu. He was relatively certain he had corrected that particular incorrect phrase before. "Never mind," he said as the door closed. "About what?"

"I would imagine she desires to extract the salacious details of our sexual relationship, seeing as I already told her about the pregnancy."

Booth shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna get told off?" The music changed songs. Was that snapping? "What is this stuff?"

"I believe it is termed 'elevator music,' Booth." Brennan was finding the off-beat tune pleasantly surprising.

"This is not elevator music." The elevator stopped moving upward and the doors opened smoothly. "Finally," Booth said, exiting with much haste. He turned around to find Brennan still standing in the lift, head moving up and down slightly to the beat. "Bones!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You were right. I'm glad we took the elevator. That was nice. I think I shall ask the receptionist for the artist name. On the way out."

Booth mumbled, "We should've taken the stairs." They made their way to the Hodgins' door, upon which Booth knocked politely.

The door swung open less than a second later. Angela had obviously been waiting at the door for them. "I want to make this very clear right now. As soon as I can get Jack out of the room, we are having a discussion," she said quietly, eyes moving between Booth and Brennan, but spending most of their time on Booth. Then, as if she had only just opened the door, "Hey, you two! Come on in! Jack, our guests are here!" She closed the door behind her friends.

"Wow, I haven't been here since—" Booth began, referring to the murder they had solved in this very condo.

"We've cleaned it up since, then, Booth." Hodgins said as he rounded the corner. He was wearing a bright yellow apron and had a red and white striped oven mitt on one hand. "Hey, Dr. B! Dinner's almost ready. I'll have it out in five, if you guys want something to drink, I can—"

"I'll get it, Jack." Angela glanced pointedly at Brennan. "You just keep cooking. Dining room's this way, you two!" She motioned for Booth and Brennan to follow her. They passed through the living room, where the sun was beginning to set and reddish-orange light lengthened the shadows of all the furniture, into the dining room. Four places were set on the simple, modern mahogany table. As Booth and Brennan sat down next to each other, Angela moved into the kitchen. "Jack, can you go check on Michael?"

"He's fine, Ange. The baby monitor's right here." Hodgins pointed to the monitor, which was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Just go check on him."

Hodgins gave Angela a look before taking his mitt off and heading off to Michael's nursery.

As soon as his back was turned, Angela had four wine glasses down and a bottle of sparkling grape juice pouring into the first of the glasses, making a point to show Brennan what she was doing before she filled the other three with wine. By the time Hodgins returned, she had already placed the glasses at the table in their respective positions.

"Thanks, Ange," said Brennan.

"No problem."

"He's fine, Ange." Hodgins insisted as he entered the dining room. An egg timer began emitting an incessant beeping. "Oh! It's done! I'll just plate everything real quick." And with that, he dashed into the kitchen.

Angela plopped down next to Brennan. "I'm holding off on the rant for now, because I don't think I can express myself adequately with him in the next room, but know that you two are not off the hook yet," she said, shaking her finger between the two of them.

Booth and Brennan shared a look. Brennan raised her eyebrows and Booth's eyes opened very wide as he settled back in his chair. There was a definite tension as they both looked back at Angela, who appeared rather angered with puckered lips and crossed arms.

"Don't look at me like that. You two brought this upon yourselves."

Brennan gave Angela a bewildered look as she protectively placed a hand on her midsection. She had truly believed her friend was happy about the news.

Angela shook her head. "That's not what I'm talking about, Bren. We'll get to that later," she finished with a wave of the hand. "Would it kill you two to call me? I appreciated the visit," she indicated to Brennan, "but that was four weeks ago, and you, Booth… Did you drop off the face of the earth? I've missed you guys. I've got two more weeks before I'm supposed to take Michael out of the house..."

"Can't Hodgins stay here?" Booth asked, brows furrowed.

"Oh, don't get me started. He says he's scared he'll do something wrong. Like I wasn't scared when he left me alone after two weeks?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably. "Shouldn't you be discussing this with him?"

"I will discuss it with anyone who will listen to me!"

The exchange unfolding before her unsettled Brennan, and she understood that Angela's irritation could be partially blamed on herself. "I should have called you, Ange, but I knew what you would want to talk about if I did, and I was not ready for that."

"Are you ready now?"

Brennan glanced back at Booth, who nodded slightly, before saying, "Yes, I believe I am."

"Okay, ladies and gent! I present to you, Hodgins ratatouille, almond chicken, and garlic bread!" He set plates before Angela and Brennan first, then ran back into the kitchen to retrieve his and Booth's. The somewhat silly yellow apron was off when he sat back down. Brennan's plate, naturally, had no chicken, but was loaded with an extra-large serving of ratatouille.

"I didn't know you could cook, Hodgins." Brennan shared, mouth watering as the aromas registered as scents to her extra-sensitive sense of smell.

"He loves cooking," Angela began as she dug a fork into her ratatouille. "The more precision required, the better. If he could figure out a way to use a microscope while cooking, he would."

"You know it, baby." Hodgins grinned.

Booth found himself amazed, for the umpteenth time, at the reality that he had become friends with the kind of people who even thought about using their microscopes to cook.

The conversation was light and friendly. Topics ranged from little Michael, to the gorgeous sunset, to the current case (although this subject did not last long, as Angela gave Hodgins death stares throughout the entire discussion), to Angela's father, who had been in town a few weeks prior.

As they were cleaning their plates, Brennan noticed that Booth had hardly touched his ratatouille. "You know, Booth, that is an excellent source of vital nutrients you are missing out on. Tomatoes have the highest lycopene concentration of any vegetable, which research suggests helps prevent prostate cancer. Garlic has also been proven to lower cancer rate, and, when consumed with a high protein diet, can increase testosterone levels. In addition, the zucchini—"

"Okay, I get the picture, Bones, but I'm not a rabbit! I ate my chicken and bread like a good boy, see?" He indicated to the portions of his plate that he had cleared.

"The ancient Greeks believed carrots and basil to be potent aphrodisiacs."

"Aphro-what?"

"Mother Nature's Viagra," Angela succinctly put.

Booth's mouth dropped open. He looked to his partner, eyes wide with shock. "Bones!"

"Good to see some things never change!" Hodgins laughed as he stood up to clear the table. "I'm glad you guys liked it."

"This was excellent, Hodgins. Thank you," Brennan nodded and got up from her chair.

"We're going to see Michael. Leave us alone for a little bit while you clean up?" Angela and Booth also stood.

"Sure, Ange. I'll be in there once I finish."

"No rush!" Angela calmly led her guests into the nursery.

Booth slipped his arm around Brennan's waist to survey the scene. It was a bright room with cream walls, green trim, and dark hardwood flooring. The bassinet, rocking chair, bookshelf, and changing table were all the same color wood as the hardwood floors, which were adorned by a bright, thick, green and yellow rug. All of the linens flowed together via the green/yellow/cream/blue theme. Brennan moved toward the bassinet; Booth moved with her, keeping his arm around her. Michael was awake, but silent, eyes searching the mobile that hung at the foot of his bassinet.

"Can I hold him, Ange?"

"Yeah, sure." She shut the door.

Brennan gently lifted Michael from his resting space and tucked his little body into the crook of her arm. She felt a wave of calm overtake her as she gazed into his little dark eyes. Booth stared at Brennan with the baby, imagining this scene in seven months when their own child would be nearly this age. A soft smile spread over his lips as he quietly said, "Bones…"

"That's good, you two. Pick up my baby so I can't yell at you."

Brennan's head lifted as she offered a zoology lesson to her friend. "The custom of holding another's child for protection is practiced in baboon tribes." This warranted an odd look from Booth. "However, I was not trying to emulate a baboon. The practice is generally ineffective and enacted by aggressive male baboons."

"Whatever it is, it worked." Angela sighed. As much as she wanted to yell at these two for being such blind idiots, the sight of the two of them with her son… She could not be angry with them. They were happy and perfect for each other. "I've gotta say, I am thrilled you two have finally consummated this relationship. But could you two not just be normal? For one moment of your crazy, twisted relationship, could you not be normal and do things the way normal people do?"

"I don't know what that means."

Booth grinned at her signature comment. "Of course not." When Brennan and Angela both looked at him strangely, he explained, "We're not normal. We never do anything by the books. We don't make any sense at all." There was a knowing, lingering look shared between the two, and Brennan's smile matched Booth's.

Angela took a moment to take in the scene before her before breaking the mood with the real question of the night, "So you're telling everyone it was artificial insemination?"

The couple's heads turned toward Angela in unison. Booth squirmed.

"Yeah, you should squirm. That's pretty stupid. Whose idea was that, Booth?"

Brennan looked back to her partner. "I find I don't understand her question. If she knows it was you, why specifically ask your name like that?"

Booth also turned away from Angela. "She's being intentionally—"

"Don't shut me out like that! Hey! Guys, you're my friends. I don't want you to do something you regret, and if you can't see how obviously wrong this lie is…"

"It's for the good of the team," explained Booth, "So the FBI doesn't split us up and we can keep the team working together. The center must hold." Brennan nodded in agreement to this last sentence.

There was a short knock on the door. The trio turned in unison and watched as the door opened to Hodgins. He was pale and his blue eyes were wide, staring at Brennan with a mixture of surprise and shock. As the trio stared at him, Hodgins lifted a hand holding the baby monitor. A little voice emerged from his throat, "You're pregnant?"

Hodgins watched the scene unfold before him. The mouths of his wife, Brennan, and Booth all dropped at the same time. When they said nothing, Hodgins knew what he had overheard was correct. A smile slowly spread across his entire face. "Congrats, Dr. B! Congrats, Booth!" He approached Brennan and gave her a gentle side-hug, as she was still holding Michael.

Within moments, Brennan was beaming. "Thank you, Hodgins." She saw Booth out of the corner of her eye, and he was beaming, too. They may not have intended to share the news with Hodgins just yet, but the joy of the moment overtook all four of them.