Chapter 10: Donuts and Daffodils

Fun fact: the bickering conversation of head size was in an interview between David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel. They did actually argue about it. They even measured. It was as follows.

Brennan woke slowly Sunday morning to the buzz of her phone on the nightstand. She squinted at the numbers: 9:23 am. A respectable time to get up. She sat up and sleepily answered.

"Booth?"

"Bones! Hey, I was wondering," his voice trailed off as he cursed in the background. Brennan knew it was because he was driving and using both hands to direct his car through the weaving DC streets. "Was wondering," he was back, breathless, "if I could pick you up in about an hour. Maybe go out for ice cream or something?"

"Ice cream at 10:30?" she laughed.

"Okay, we can go to the park. Or take a walk. Or…" he trailed off again and she heard a honking screech.

"Where are you Booth?" she smiled into the phone.

"I'm on Wisconsin Avenue, Northwest."

"That's pretty far," she frowned. "What are you doing out there?"

"It's a surprise," he said cheerily, but she could pick up a little tension in his tone.

"Booth," she warned, "I hate surprises."

"If that's Booth, tell him to stop by for breakfast," said Max, popping his head in and giving Brennan such a start, her hand flew out in front of her as if to push him away from the bed.

"Dad," she said, covering the receiver end of her cell with her hand, "you scared me."

"Sorry sweetheart. I picked up some donuts for breakfast. Why don't you come in the kitchen. Ask Booth."

"Booth?" she queried into the phone.

"Nah, I'm okay. I might grab one when I come to get you."

"You're coming up?" she said in surprise.

"Is that a problem?" his voice was also surprised.

"No," she said hastily, "but you always just wait for me to come down."

"Well Bones," he said, and she could tell he was grinning his smug little grin from miles away. Her fingers itched to slap it off; her lips did too. "Your father is there. That's really no way to treat a lady." Brennan blushed; she had almost forgotten her overhead conversation the night before. She tried not to let it leach into her voice.

"Yeah, come up. I'll save you a donut. Booth I gotta go." But before she hung up he managed to bellow,

"With sprinkles!" and squeaked it into the last possible second before her thumb finished touching the end call button. She smiled foolishly at the phone.

Swinging her legs out of bed, she stood up. She frowned when her body screamed in protest and she stumbled forwards holding onto the door handle and gingerly pulling it toward her. Still confused, she managed to walk stiffly, if normally, to the table. In her head, her logical, rational voice was telling her to keep moving around and that the restricted blood flow would soon sweep away the oversupply of lactic acid build up that was eating at her nerves causing her to be sore.

"You all right there honey? You're looking a bit…creaky." She smiled and Max proffered her a white box full of donuts of every kind. "I didn't know what you liked so I got all-" he cut off as she selected the bear claw and sunk her teeth gratefully into the sugary cinnamon. "That was mine," he pouted.

"I remember," she said, licking one of her fingers daintily, while catching crumbs with her cupped palm. "You always used to let me split it with you during Sunday morning cartoons." Max's face split into a wide grin.

"Yes, yes, that's right. But your mother liked the jelly filled kind."

"Bleh." Brennan made a face. "It's not real jelly, it always tasted much too artificial for my taste." They shared a grin as Max selected another donut while Brennan carefully cut her bear claw in half with a butter knife.

"Oh! Look what I got at the store," said Max after a minute of companionable silence. "Next to the donut shop there was a pharmacy, and I know that you don't like taking heavy narcotics, especially not at work, so I thought you could use these." He pulled a bottle of Aleve out of a white paper bag.

"I prefer Motrin," frowned Brennan, "it has more Ibuprofen in it."

"Your mother always insisted that these work better," pushed Max, unscrewing the lid and handing her a glass of orange juice and two pills.

"I am a little sore," admitted Brennan.

"Booth hit you that hard?" winced Max. Brennan blinked; she had forgotten about her face.

"My face doesn't hurt," she responded automatically, "just the rest of me."

"Well what did you do?" frowned Max. "I mean, yesterday?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Brennan, swallowing her pills and taking a few sips of orange juice. "I just slept all day. And Friday I worked and went to Parker's tball game and Thursday I…oh." Brennan blushed scarlet. She should have expected this, really. It had been an awfully long time since her last relationship. But in the wake of the hospital and being so heavily dosed on narcotics, she assumed she had been unable to feel the effects. But more things were falling into place: the wobbly legs, the pain in her stomach, the stumbling around… She glanced into her orange juice cup in horror; she was mortified, and being with her father was only making it worse.

"What else did you pick up?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"Icy Hot, for your black eye. It'll work, I promise. Russ used to get in fights all the time."

"He did?" Brennan asked in shock, momentarily distracted. Inwardly she was eyeing the Icy Hot with renewed fervor. "I always thought Russ was really…tough."

"He toughened up in high school, but he was always looking out for you in middle and elementary school." Brennan blinked at him.

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything else to say. He reached into the bag again.

"Here honey, I figured you'd have to leave the house eventually. So I picked this up in the pharmacy. Be grateful, I got a very strange look from the clerk." She took the little plastic jar from his hand and looked at it. It was a mixture of cream and cover up.

"Natural ingredients," he smiled, "Booth tells me you're a vegetarian now." She nodded the affirmative.

She looked down at it shyly. "Thanks Dad," she said quietly. When she looked up and he was watching her with her own blue eyes. They were his first, she reasoned with herself. She didn't have to be Booth to know that the both of their thoughts dwelled on the previous nights conversations.

"Really," she put a hand on his arm. "Thanks." He rolled his eyes and waved a hand airily.

"Bah." He stood up. "Go on, get dressed, Booth will be here soon." She swallowed, nodded, and skipped…or minced…back to her bedroom and closed the door, for the first time wondering what to wear.

She flinched when she heard the knock on the front door; she was putting on the final touches of mascara, not bothering with eyeliner as usual. Her face was much less puffy than the first two days, and it was almost normal looking. The cream that Max had brought was perfect; it went on smoothly and left her skin still the same color. She was so pale, it was often hard to find makeup shades her skin tone without tinting herself slightly orange.

She looked at herself critically in the mirror; she looked…normal. Like it was any other day in the lab. She wore jeans and her tall black riding boots with a nice snug jacket and her hair in a loose bun. She blinked twice and opened her bedroom door. Booth was standing right in the threshold, one hand poised to knock, the other clutching a bouquet of flowers.

"Booth!"

"Careful there Bones, wow, your face looks great!" He seemed sincere and she half smiled, half gestured.

"Dad brought me some makeup that really helped hide it. Are those for me?" She was direct, as usual.

"Sort of," he smiled crookedly. She glimpsed the label.

"Johnson's flowers?" she asked in disbelief, "those are my favorite because they carry-"

"Daffodils," finished Booth. He lowered the plastic wrapping, showing the inside to her; the buttery yellow flowers beamed at Brennan's beaming face.

"Thanks Booth…what do you mean, not for me exactly?" He looked evasive.

"You'll see."

"Booth, where are we going?" She followed him into the den and saw her father's hand resting on a similar bouquet on the table.

"Thanks Booth," he nodded.

"Max," nodded Booth curtly. He put his hand on the lower of Brennan's back. "Grab your keys Bones," crowed Booth, "we're going for a drive." She quickly gathered what she needed, also grabbing the little jar in case her black eye started to shine through again. Her heart was full and shining, burning away at the darkness in the back of her mind. She swallowed it, forcing it down…for now. However, like a little helium balloon, it kept rising. Booth's fingers burned through her jacket and she smiled winningly as he opened the car door for her and guided her by the elbow into her seat. He strapped himself in.

"Moving a little slow there Bones," he teased once he got in the flow of traffic. "What, did you forget your morning coffee?" He nodded toward the cup holder with a wink. Coffee waited for her; her favorite kind. "Figures." Smiling, she raised the cup to her lips in synchronization with his.

"Just a little sore," she said, blithely sipping her coffee. He swallowed his hastily.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Not…not my head." She shifted a little in her seat to make her point and had the satisfaction of watching his face burn red. Her satisfaction slid away as guilt flooded his features.

"Bones…Brennan. Oh God, I'm so sorry. I should have gone softer, gentler I…"

"Booth," smiled Brennan, "Don't worry about it." He glanced over at her, his face startled. She shrugged.

"It's a nice kind of sore," she said bashfully. His own face cracked into his little boy's smile.

"Yeah?" She blushed a little more and nodded.

"Yeah. Great kind." He chuckled and looked out the windshield.

"You really know how to stoke a guy's ego Brennan."

"Don't go getting a big head," she accused.

"My head? My head? Bones, our heads are like…the same size."

"What! No way Booth. No way. Yours is just humongous."

"Humongous? You call my head humongous? You know what? Let's measure. Check the console. There's a measuring tape."

"Seriously? Why do you even have a measuring tape in your car?" she griped, digging through at least 20 pieces of paper and four of her lip glosses.

"And you can take some of those out," he criticized, seeing the growing pile on her lap.

"I need them," she sniped defensively.

"All of them?" he grouched.

"They're different colors," she protested.

"They are all pink."

"No, this one, see? This one is mauve. And this one is coral. Clearly different."

"They're both pink Bones. They may be light and dark, but they go on clear."

"They work with your skin tone!" she argued. "Found it." She pulled out a measuring tape and began piling the crap in her lap back into the console.

"Measure your head."

"Why mine first?"

"I'm driving!"

"Fine," she smoldered, and wrapped the measuring tape around her head.

"Make sure it's around the fat part," instructed Booth. Brennan frowned.

"You think my head is fat?"

"That's not what I said Bones, I mean you could cheat. Make it look like mine is bigger than yours."

"Yours is bigger than mine. Your head is huge."

"How do you know?" he challenged, "we're not done collecting the data." Her nose wrinkled.

"Did you just try to out science me?" He laughed.

"Fine. I've got mine."

"How big is it?" She looked insulted.

"I'm not telling you." He grimaced.

"Fine. Give me the tape."

"No! You're driving. I'll do it."

"We're at a stoplight. Give it-" he reached over and tried to wrestle it from her.

"The light Booth! The light is green!" Sighing in frustration he slammed the pedal down.

"Don't get it in my eyes," he growled as she leaned over and wrapped it around his head. He heard her gasp and the tape slipped into his line of vision. Instinctively he reached up to pull it away but she swatted his hands away.

"Bones! I told you, I can't see, I can't…"

"Did you just hit me?" she frowned.

"What? I swatted you. A swat, what is taking so long?" She measured again and then sank bank into her seat, her lips twitching stubbornly.

"I don't believe it," she said, trying to pout, but Booth could hear her laughter bubbling under the surface.

"What?" he was scared. "Is something wrong with me or something?"

"They're the same size."

"What?" She nodded the affirmative.

"Yep. To the centimeter. I don't believe it." Booth scoffed.

"Obviously you measured wrong."

"I did not! I'm a scientist! I went through a lot of school and I think I could measure correctly." They sat in silence for a minute until she glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. He was glancing at her.

"Did it just strike you," she said, "that we're arguing over head size?"

"Yeah, and that you measured?" laughed Booth.

"I measured! You're the one who told me to get the tape out of your console." They laughed until Brennan stopped abruptly as they made a turn into a parking lot.

"Booth where are- why are we here?" He parked the car quietly but left it idling, staring intently at her. Their bickering vanished in a heartbeat.

"I thought," he cleared his throat, "I figured you wouldn't want to come alone."

"This is what the daffodils are for," she whispered, her throat suddenly tight. She looked up at his mahogany eyes, her own a little brighter than usual. "Thanks Booth…you're right. I wouldn't have come alone." He held the door for her and stepped out.

"You're gonna be okay," he whispered into her hair and for a moment she shivered before glancing into his eyes. She stared at him every day, but today, she could put a name to that mysterious quality that was always flickering across his face when he stared at her, and only her.

It was love.

And it was for her.

She clutched the flowers while they both walked in silence past the big stone sign proclaiming Arbor Hills Cemetery. And he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her to him.