"You and Angela sounded like you were having fun this morning." Booth tossed a grin at Brennan, sitting next to him as they drove into Pennsylvania. "What was so funny?"
Brennan shrugged. "Can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Angela said I couldn't." Brennan turned to her window to hide a smile.
"Come on . . . tell me . . . " Booth reached out and tucked one hand under her knee, tickling lightly. "Tell me . . . "
She slapped his hand away, laughing. "Stop! Angela said no."'
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Booth reached for her hand. "This wedding . . . stuff. The girly stuff. You like it. Admit it."
Brennan gave him a look that communicated she clearly wanted to deny what he'd just said, but . . . "I . . . am. I'm surprised at how much. I've been researching bridal traditions and I find it amazing what a wide variety there are. Most of them are not appropriate for our ceremony, of course, but . . . I find them interesting, nonetheless."
"You're having fun."
"Yes."
"You're full of surprises, Temperance Brennan." He smiled broadly as he pulled into parking lot of the assisted living center. "Full of surprises. And speaking of surprises, look who's waiting for us!"
Hank stood at the door as they walked together toward the entrance to the center. Hank waved him off as Booth stepped forward. "I'll get to you later, shrimp. Let the pretty lady go first." He pulled Brennan into a hug. "So you're finally making an honest man out of my grandson!"
"No," Brennan replied, shaking her head. "Booth is a very honest man, Hank. I had nothing to do with that."
"Right," Hank smiled. He grabbed Booth, adding a slap on the back to his hug. "Well, come on in. There's a bunch of old people in here who want to get a look at both of you."
For the next half-hour, Brennan and Booth were the center of attention, accepting the congratulations and dry cookies offered them with equal grace. Brennan was pulled into a group of women to answer questions about her upcoming nuptials and listen to still vivid descriptions of wedding days that had taken place decades earlier. Booth, meanwhile, was subjected to a somewhat more ribald conversation as Hank and his friends pressed him with well-meaning, off-color advice.
"If you get confused on your wedding night," offered one ancient gentleman in a voice that quavered with age, "just call here and we'll walk you through it, right Hank?"
"What was that?" asked another who, judging by the fact that he'd asked the same question at least eight times, was in dire need of new batteries for his hearing aid.
"Never mind, Fred," Hank yelled in his ear. "We'll tell you later!"
Finally, Hank ended the gathering. "Okay, okay, party's over. I've got something to say to my grandson and his bride. Get moving, all of you!" The room slowly emptied, until the three of them were left alone. Booth shook his head and smiled at Brennan, who laughed softly.
"That was quite amusing."
"You did great, Bones."
"So," Hank began, slapping his legs as they sat down. "I didn't bring you all the way up here so my friends could explain the birds and the bees to you, shrimp. I've got something I want to give you."
Hank reached in his pocket, pulling out a small, faded velvet box. He turned it over in his hands slowly. "I've been doing some thinking, and I want you two to have these." He handed the box to Brennan.
Nestled inside, on equally faded velvet, were two simple broad white wedding bands. "Pops . . . " Booth quiet voice was rough.
"They were your grandmother's and mine," Hank said, watching Brennan gently remove the smaller band. He smiled as she held the ring at an angle to read the engraving that, while faded and worn from age and use, was still visible. "I had them all polished and cleaned up for you. Look almost as good as when I bought them."
"Booth," she whispered, offering him the ring.
"Forever starts today May 15, 1941" he read softly.
"That was your grandmother's idea," Hank sat back. "Margaret was sentimental like that," he smiled in memory. "Now, you don't have to wear them." He said with a wave of his hand. "I know they're pretty plain, nothing like the, what do they call it? the bling bling you young people want today, but I wanted you to have them anyway. I thought your bone lady, seeing as how she likes old things, might appreciate them. They have 32 years in 'em, but I figure they have another 30, 40, 50 years left . . . Oompf . . . . "
Hank's voice left him abruptly as Brennan launched herself at him, tears streaming, her arms wrapping around him. Booth made to get up.
"Back off, shrimp," Hank said over Brennan's shoulder. "Been too long since I've had a pretty girl crying on my shoulder. I can handle this." He rubbed and patted her back until the tears abated somewhat. He kissed her cheek and pushed her in Booth's direction. "Now, go let my boy kiss you before he goes nuts."
Brennan moved to Booth's waiting embrace. He kissed her temple, looking at Hank, allowing his grandfather to see the tears shining in his own eyes. Hank watched the two of them, smiling.
"Hank," Brennan said, when she could finally speak. "I would be honored to wear this ring. I am honored that you . . ." her voice faded as tears threatened again.
"Yea, Pops," Booth added. "Thank you."
Hank nodded. "Well, what are they gonna do, sit in a drawer until I kick up my toes? Better you should have them."
"Yea, Pops." The two men exchanged the same half smile as a bell sounded overhead.
"Hey, that's dinner. You kids want to stay? I'm pretty sure tonight is chocolate pudding night."
After declining the invitation to stay for dinner, after final hugs and goodbyes and a kiss from Brennan, they were on their way home. Brennan held the small box in her hands as the SUV ate up the miles. A few minutes of silence passed, then Booth reached out a hand to cover the box in hers.
"Forever starts today," he quoted softly.
Brennan looked at him, one single tear escaping, and nodded, unable to speak.