A/N: This is a reminder that these stories are not in chronological order.

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I don't own Bones.

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It was his eighteenth birthday and Henry Joseph Booth knew exactly what he was going to do to celebrate. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted the same tattoos his father had on his wrists. When he'd been a small boy, he'd used a black magic marker and tried to make his own tattoos but that hadn't turned out well and his mother had withdrawn him from his Day Care because of their incompetence and inability to watch their charges more closely. He didn't remember the incident but his sister had reminded him of it when he had talked about getting a tattoo when he was fifteen. She had told him no legitimate tattoo shop would tattoo a boy and she had been right. He'd tried, but after three artists turned him down, he knew he'd have to wait. Now that he was eighteen and officially a man, no one could stop him from finally getting what he wanted and the wait was finally over.

Like his mother's need for research, he had studied Kanji tattoos and the meaning behind each one. His father's tattoos stood for 'Soul' and 'Destiny'. He'd had them done in Japan when he'd been sent there on assignment by the FBI. Hank had met Ken Nakamura numerous times over the years and when he was thirteen, he'd asked Ken about the tattoos on his father's wrists. He'd told Hank a story about a police boat in Uraga Harbor, a gallon of sake and a successful raid against the Yakuza. To celebrate, Booth had decided he wanted a permanent souvenir of their accomplishments and had Ken take him to a reputable tattoo shop to get a tattoo. One tattoo had turned into two and Booth was very proud of them.

That story had inspired Hank to not give up his dream of getting his own tattoos. Not because he had done anything heroic, but because his father had been brave to get tattoos and Hank considered himself to be brave too.

Before his birthday, he went online and looked up various tattoo shops in the area and found one that specialized in Kanji tattoos. He'd called the owner of the shop and he had been assured that his tattoos could be done there if he brought proof that he was at least 18 years old.

When his birthday arrived, his parents had a birthday party for him with a barbeque. A lot of his family had shown up and Hank was happy that his brother and sister-in-law had made it. Parker hadn't been sure they could come since one of his brother's kids was sick, but Kyle had recovered quickly from his cold and Parker and his family arrived to help Hank celebrate his moving from childhood to adulthood. It was one of the happiest days of his life.

The day after he drove over to the tattoo shop, showed his driver's license to prove he was of age and looked through several books displaying Kanji tattoos. Hank seriously considered getting the same tattoos his father had, but in the end, he knew he couldn't do that. Seeley Booth's tattoos were special to him and Hank knew his tattoos needed to have meaning to him.

The decision made, the artist tattooed Hanks wrists and when he was done, he placed a bandage over them and gave the young man instructions on how to take care of them. Excited, he paid the man and drove home. His parents were at work, so he had time to get home and prepare dinner for the night. He had been taking cooking lessons from his parents since he was ten years old and he was ready to cook an entire meal by himself to show he was indeed a man and not a boy.

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Dinner was almost ready when Hank heard the front door open and close. Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Hank sauntered into the hallway and looked left and right. Spying his mother entering her bedroom, the young man called out. "I cooked dinner, Mom. It's almost ready."

Leaning back into the hallway, Brennan smiled at her son. "Thank you, Hank. Your father should be here in a few minutes. He called to say he was stopping by your Uncle Aubrey's house to pick up the branch lopper Aubrey borrowed last week."

"Okay, I'm going to set the table."

"Fine, I'm just going to change my clothes. I'll be out in a few minutes." Brennan was curious why Hank had chosen to cook dinner, but she assumed he might be asserting his adulthood. She had seen the same thing in her daughter when Christine had turned 18. She had taken on more adult responsibilities and Brennan had appreciated the effort.

The table set Hank was walking back into the kitchen when his father entered the house.

Spying his son, Booth shook his head, "I'm going to quit letting Aubrey borrow my stuff if he can't be bothered to return it when he's done. I know he's busy, but so am I."

"Dinner's ready, Dad." Hank pointed at the dinner table. "Mom is changing clothes."

"You cooked dinner?" Surprised, Booth glanced into the kitchen and spied pots on the stove. "What are we having?"

Pleased with himself, Hank walked into the kitchen and opened the oven door. "We're having roasted chicken mixed, vegetables and I made a gravy for the chicken. We're also having a mixed salad and garlic bread. I also baked a vegan stuffed zucchini for Mom."

"Sounds great." The aromas coming from the kitchen made his mouth water. "Let me go change clothes. I'll make it quick."

Once the pots had been emptied into bowls, Hank carried the filled bowls to the table and was placing a plate that contained the zucchini at his mother's place at the table when his parents arrived. "We're ready to eat."

Settled at the table, Brennan glanced at Booth who stared at her for a moment before nodding his head. "So, Hank we appreciate you cooking dinner for us but let's talk about the tattoos."

Here we go. Not one to duck an uncomfortable conversation, Hank placed a piece of chicken on his plate and set the bowl down. "I had this done this morning. One of them means good fortune and the other one means harmony. I've always liked your tattoos Dad and I wanted ones of my own. I did wait until I was eighteen before I got them." Holding his hands up, he turned his wrists upward and smiled. "They don't wash off if you don't like them."

Since the deed was done, Booth shrugged his shoulders and filled his plate with food. "Just so you remember that fact too."

Brennan studied the Kanji tattoos and decided that they were as tasteful as her husband's tattoos were. "You are an adult and you have a right to do what you did, but it would have been nice if we had talked it over first. Tattooing your skin is permanent. You can have them removed with lasers, but that involves several sessions. The laser removes the pigment from your skin and of course it costs ten times as much to remove the tattoo than it does to apply it to your body."

"Mom, I just got them. I'm not going to get them removed." Annoyed, Hank picked up the bowl of vegetables and stabbed his spoon in the bowl. "Look, I've done a lot of research on tattoos. This isn't a whim. I've wanted a tattoo since I was a kid and I was going to have one done when I was fifteen, but I couldn't get a tattoo artist to do it." He saw the glares and he shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't happen so don't give me those looks."

Staring at Brennan, Booth shook his head and smiled. "Our boy isn't a boy anymore, Bones."

"No, he isn't." Brennan felt strange knowing her children were now adults. There would be no more babies in their house except when grandchildren visited and somehow that made her feel sad. "Remember when he drew tattoos on his wrists in Day Care?"

Chuckling, Booth glanced at his son then back at Brennan. "I'm sure the Day Care people never forgot since he also drew tattoos on a couple of the other kids too."

His eyes hooded, Hank stared at his father and knew that he was going to be the butt of teasing for the rest of the week. "You know you'd hate it if I was boring."

"You're probably right. You and Christine and Parker have never been boring." Booth winked at Brennan. "I wouldn't expect anything less from our kids."

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