It's around 5:30 PM and Brennan's in the kitchen heating up the leftover lasagna from the night before. She's almost dreading the conversation she needs to have with Booth.
Booth walks into the kitchen, dropping his beer bottles in the recycling bin and wrapping his arms around Brennan's waist, startling her. He dives for her neck, pressing soft, sweet kisses against her warm skin. He mumbles something incoherent and then pulls back, spinning her around and planting a kiss on her lips, the kiss anything but sweet. He smiles at her, taking the dishrag from her grasp. "Parker's watching wrestling. I thought I'd come in here and check on dinner."
Before she even can register what she's doing, she blurts out, "Booth, we need to talk about Parker."
Booth takes a step back, giving her a look of confusion and anxiety. "Okay?" He pulls out a stool from the center island and sits down.
She takes a cold beer out of the refrigerator and hands it to him.
"Oh, it's a beer conversation. It must be serious."
She swallows, fiddling with the dishrag. "I think you're smothering, Parker. I mean, metaphorically. I'm not implying that you're physically suffocating him."
He spits out his beer, coughing, and slams the bottle down on the counter. "What?"
Angela's advice flashes through her head and she clears her throat. "He's sixteen, Booth. He doesn't need a babysitter."
"I'm not his babysitter, Bones. I'm his father."
"You're treating him like a child, Booth."
"He is a child! He's hurt. He can barely walk. He only has use of one arm right now. He needs help."
"What you're doing isn't helping him, Booth. What you're doing is treating him like he's a toddler. Sleeping outside his room at night, watching him all day, asking him if he's okay every five minutes—you're suffocating him. All those things, they remind him that things have changed, Booth. If he needs our help, he'll ask for it."
"If you haven't noticed, things have changed."
"Yes, they have, but he doesn't need to be reminded about those changes every second of the day."
"So I'm smothering him because I'm trying to help him? Is that what you're saying, Bones? I'm doing my duty as a father so that automatically means I'm suffocating him."
"He doesn't need to be watched all day, Booth. He doesn't need you hovering in his doorway at night."
"You slept in the hallway with me, so by your logic, that means you're suffocating him too."
"I didn't sleep in the hallway because I wanted to keep an eye on Parker, Booth. I slept in the hallway so I could be with you!" She pauses. "Remember when I was pregnant with Christine? You're overprotective. I know. You protect the ones you love, and I admire that, Booth, I do, but there's a limit to how much a person can take of that. It gets frustrating and very annoying after a while."
Booth grunts. "I'm just trying to help him."
She nods and reaches for his hand. "I know you are, but it's getting to be borderline ridiculous now." She pauses. "This morning, he asked me if you were going to be sleeping outside his room every night. He told me he didn't need a babysitter. I told him you were just worried about him, but I think, I think you need to back off."
He's seething, heat rising to his cheeks, his eyes smoldering. "Back off? You think I should back off?"
"Yes."
He scowls. "I can't do that. I won't do that. He's my son, Bones."
"You're not helping him."
"What makes you an expert, huh? What makes you such a damn expert, Bones, that you can tell me I'm not helping my own child?"
"I have experience with your overprotective nature, Booth. I understand that Parker needs more help than I did when I was pregnant, but I know how frustrating this can be. He's never going to adjust to his new life if you keep shoving this change in his face like this."
"And how exactly am I shoving this in his face, Bones? How?"
"By constantly watching him, sleeping in the hallway outside his room, and by asking if he's okay way too many times in the span of an hour. I already told you that. You need to stop treating him like he's a temporary guest. You need to stop treating him like he can't take care of himself."
"He can't! That's the whole point, Bones."
"I know, but he doesn't need to be reminded of that fact all the time!" She throws the dishtowel down on the counter and lets out a frustrated sigh. "I know you love him, Booth, but you need to give him space. You constantly being around, watching his every move, sleeping outside his room—you're reminding him that things are changing. He's never going to feel at home here if you keep treating him like this. He needs to feel like you trust him." She calms down a little, resting her hand on his shoulder. "He's been through a lot over the last two months, Booth. You need to let him process everything—alone—without you always being there, staring at him, watching him breathe."
Booth looks into the living, and after a couple minutes of awkward silence, he clears his throat and blinks back a thin layer of tears. "I don't know if I can leave him alone, Bones."
She smiles at him. "Start by helping me set the table. Let Parker watch TV for a little while before dinner. Then tonight, sleep with me in our bed. You'll be right down the hallway if he needs you." She pauses. "Do we still have those walkie-talkies?"
Booth nods. "They're probably in that box in the attic. Why?"
"We can use those to communicate with Parker if he needs us in the middle of the night or during the day when we're not with him. You told me once that when he was little, you two used to have conversations with walkie-talkies in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep or when he'd have nightmares."
Booth smiles at the memory and her suggestion.
"He gets the independence he wants and needs, and you get the peace of mind that you need so badly."
"C'mere."
"You're not going to yell at me, are you?"
"Just c'mere, Bones."
She takes a hesitant step towards him, and when she's close enough to him, he tugs on her arm, sending her into him, eliciting a soft 'oh' from her.
He slips off the stool and grabs hold of her head, framing her face with his hands and pressing his lips hard against hers. He pulls back and then gives her another soft peck on the mouth. "I'm sorry I yelled. I was angry, but only because I knew you were right."
"That doesn't make any sense."
He chuckles and kisses her again, dropping his hands. "Thanks, Bones."
"You're welcome."
He pulls her against his chest and wraps his arms around her. He buries his face in her hair and presses a kiss to the side of her head. He shifts his weight and breathes in her coconut conditioner.
She completes the embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. "Are you still angry?"
He shakes his head, stepping back. He lifts her chin with his thumb and his face inches closer to hers. The moment his lips touch hers, his eyes fall shut and he shivers.
She moans softly against his mouth, one hand gripping his bicep, the other resting on his shoulder. She breaks the kiss and catches her breath. "My intention wasn't to make you angry, but I thought you should know how I was feeling. Angela persuaded me to tell you, actually." She smiles at him. "You're an excellent father, Booth, and you have a huge heart—metaphorically speaking, of course, because anatomically, I assume your heart muscle is of average size."
He brushes her hair away from her eyes, skimming his pinky against her cheek, smiling, feeling the uncomfortable prick of tears.
"You love Parker so much, which I believe is the reason why you're so concerned, why you're so overprotective of him at this moment. He loves you too, Booth, and you're in no way abandoning him if you give him space. I don't know if this makes sense, but you can be there for him without always being there."
He presses his lips against her forehead, his hands on her shoulders. "It makes sense, Bones. It makes perfect sense. I love you." He pauses. "So what did you and Angela talk about in the kitchen? I asked you earlier, but we got interrupted."
She nods. "Uh, we didn't really talk about much. She saw the twist-tie, which is why she dragged me into the kitchen. She was very excited." She pauses. "If I use Angela's logic, which is that she tells Dr. Hodgins everything no matter what because he's her husband, I'm sure she won't be upset that I'm telling you her secret."
"Which is?"
"Angela's pregnant."
His lips curve into a smile and he lets out a giddy laugh. "Angela's pregnant?"
"Did I stutter? I thought I was quite clear."
He swallows. "That's great."
She nods. "I agree." She conceals a yawn with her hand, and suddenly she's thinking about the last part of her and Angela's conversation. She quickly dismisses the possibility and smiles at Booth. "Are you hungry?"
He rubs his stomach. "I'm starving." He pauses. "I'm going to go check on Parker and then—."
She looks pointedly at him, one eyebrow slowly inching upwards.
"Check. Just check, Bones. I'm just going to check on him real quick, see if he's hungry, and then yell up the steps for Christine."
She eyes him suspiciously still, a small smile forming on her lips as he leans in to kiss her. "Are you sleeping in our bed tonight?"
He nods. "I don't know how much sleeping I'll be getting, but yeah." He smiles and heads into the living room.
She lets out a breath and takes a quick look at the lasagna before stacking the plates, silverware, and cups on the island counter.