(The Big in the Philippines)

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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

She handed her husband a cup of coffee and he thanked her. He usually did that since he appreciated not having to get up and get one himself, but then he stepped out of character. "That's good, Bones. You make a great cup of coffee."

"Thank you." She did buy the best coffee and it was worth every penny she paid for it, but Booth never commented on the coffee he drank unless it was bad tasting. She wondered why he had complimented the coffee, but decided he was just being appreciative. "It's Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee. My publisher sent it to me. He was pleased with the increase in book sales last month."

"Um, that's nice." He wasn't really interested in the brand of coffee and where it came from. The last time he had asked her about the coffee he was drinking, he found out that it was coffee that had been made from coffee beans defecated by civets, whatever the hell they were and then the beans had been roasted. Way too much information and a lesson learned. "So how about those Mets."

She knew he was changing the topic and she found it amusing. "How about them?"

"They actually won a game." Booth stood up, finished his cup of coffee, kissed her cheek and left the room. "Let's boogy Bones. We're going to be late for work if we don't move it."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

She had made it home before Booth and decided to cook dinner for the family even though it was his turn to do kitchen duty. Brennan had found a recipe for puttanesca and she thought Booth would appreciate it since it was similar to a dish his mother had made for them when she had stayed with them the previous year.

An hour later, Booth entered the house, smelled something delicious in the air and was eager to find out what it was. Following the delectable aroma into the kitchen he found a pot on the stove, lifted the lid and realized that Brennan had made him puttanesca. Grabbing a piece of bread, he dunked it in the sauce, blew on it to cool it off then ate it. "Oh my God, this is so good."

Appearing in the kitchen with Christine, Brennan smiled at her husband dipping more bread in the sauce. "Save some for dinner."

Swallowing his bite of bread, Booth placed the lid back on the pot and moved over to where Brennan was standing. "Hey, thanks for the puttanesca. It's even better than my mother's." He kissed her, pulled Christine from her mother's arms and kissed the child. "Your Mom is a fantastic cook, Christine." Booth winked at Brennan and placed their toddler in her high chair. "Thank you for cooking dinner, Bones. Your dinner is a lot better than what I had planned to make."

"You're welcome." His enthusiasm for her meal was a little overwhelming. "I found the recipe in an old cookbook that Hodgins owns. He let me borrow it."

"Well, I may just have to check out Hodgins book collection." Booth walked over to the fridge and removed two beers. Handing one to Brennan, Booth glanced at the stove. "You want me to make a salad for us? I can do that while you feed Christine."

"Thank you." Brennan appreciated his thoughtfulness.

Grabbing romaine, bell peppers, tomatoes and onions from the fridge, Booth pulled a large bowl from a cabinet and started to make salad. "I'm going to have to thank Hodgins. It's been awhile since I've eaten puttanesca . . . yeah, a while." Even though he had tried to accept his mother back into his life, he hadn't heard from her since his wedding. He accepted that she had a family that had nothing to do with him. He hadn't had a mother since he was a boy and he didn't really need her now. "Oh, hey, I got an idea. Why don't we invite Max over for barbecue on Sunday? We can check up on him and see what he's up to."

"Yes, maybe we should." She knew that her father was in town, he had called her that morning. "He's been out of town since we were married . . . I'd like to know where he goes. He has odd acquaintances."

"Odd acquaintances . . . yeah, okay." As far as Booth was concerned, his father-in-law was not to be trusted too much. The man seemed to have a lot of secrets. "I'm glad you're trying to trust Max, Bones. He hasn't made it easy on you, but I think it's great that you try." She was more forgiving than he was. After all, he had hated his father and hadn't seen the man from the time his grandfather had rescued him until his old man had died. "Yep, you're a kind person, Bones. Very kind."

The compliments seemed to be overboard and Brennan was staring to worry. Booth had been excessively polite for the last few days and it was starting to bother her. "Are you angry with me?"

Shocked, Booth placed his knife down on the cutting board and turned to face his wife. "Why the hell do you think I'm angry with you? What did I say that made you think something like that?" He had been very polite for the last few days and now he was being accused of being angry. Could he ever win?

"You're too polite." They had had this conversation before. "You've been complimenting me for several days about things that don't require compliments. The last time you were this polite you were angry with me. I want to know what I've done to make you angry with me."

Rubbing his forehead, Booth realized that he had been out of character lately and Brennan had picked up on it. "Bones, I'm not mad at you. I promise that you haven't done anything wrong. You've been your normal wonderful self. Really."

"There . . . another compliment." Now she was really worried. "Stop it Booth. What is going on?"

Irritated, Booth leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed against his chest. "Since when is it wrong to compliment you? What's wrong with being polite?"

"There is nothing wrong with compliments and being polite when it is deserved, but you have been complimenting me for mundane things." Brennan felt that her husband was hiding something from her. "Why, Booth?"

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and decided that he'd better talk to her before his quiet evening turned into a battle. "Life is short, Bones . . . Anything can happen to us at anytime . . . I think you deserve to be complimented when you do something nice for me. I want you to know that I appreciate your kindnesses . . . I don't want you to think I don't appreciate you because I do."

A sudden thought hit her. "This is about Mr. Bray."

Licking his bottom lip, Booth finally nodded his head. "One minute he was healthy and on top of his world and now he's fighting for his life . . . I have a dangerous job. I could walk out the front door tomorrow morning and some punk could end my life." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. I want you to know how much I love you and how much I appreciate having you in my life . . . I don't want to die and you not know how much you mean to me."

She felt her eyes water. She had not expected such a raw confession. "I know you love me, Booth. That's why I married you. I have never loved anyone like I love you. You don't have to be excessively polite to me. I know what I mean to you and you should know what you mean to me. You don't have to be so polite because you're afraid you might die and not have some final words with me . . . I love you. Be yourself and stop worrying about your final moments on this earth . . . Just be you. That is all I need . . . Of course, you should compliment me when I do something out of the ordinary like make you puttanesca. That is a very hard recipe."

Amused, Booth moved over to where his wife stood and placed his arms around her. "Hey, thank you for making me puttenesca. It really does taste better than Mom's recipe."

She hugged him and smiled. "Hodgins' recipe book also has a recipe for pasta e fagioli."

"No, really?" Booth hadn't eaten that dish since his grandmother had died. "I'm going to look at that cookbook." His mouth watered just thinking about it. "You know what I like Bones. Thanks for borrowing the book." He kissed her. "I'll try to tone down the politeness . . . as weird as that sounds, it really isn't me, is it?"

Brennan kissed him. "Just be you, Booth. That's all I want."

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