Afraid that asking Booth to not constantly visit her at work had hurt his feelings, Brennan sent a text inviting him to dinner the following evening.

She worried she'd been too harsh. Sometimes, it was hard to escape the old habit of using blunt language to make her point when there were better ways to express herself to Booth.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. But she needed her independence too. Realizing it was going to be a balancing act, Brennan hoped she could figure out a way to make it work without feeling smothered.

She'd said as much in an apology text. He'd responded, in typical Booth fashion, telling her not to worry about it. But she did, more than he would have wanted her to.

There'd been another conversation with Angela that morning. Brennan's fake gift had been a pack of highlighters and a spiral notebook. It was almost too easy messing with her friend, but Brennan didn't feel guilty for it.

It was harmless, even if Angela couldn't hide her shock and annoyance when she saw the latest gift.

Thoughts of her interfering friend disappeared when Brennan opened her door and ushered Booth into her apartment. A gift was in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

Dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt along with the leather jacket she loved, Brennan smiled at the image he presented, openly enjoying the view.

Noticing the stare, Booth walked toward her slowly, giving her time to look. "Hope this works with whatever you cooked," he said. Voice trailing off at the end, he practically shoved the wine and gift into her arms before heading into the kitchen. Opening the oven, he inhaled deeply. "You made macaroni and cheese."

"Yes," she said, amused by his childlike antics. "And if you close the door, it might finish cooking."

"You have no idea how much I missed this," he said. He wasn't just referring to the food. Once the oven door closed again, he took the wine from her. "I'll open this up."

"And this?" she asked, holding out the gift. "Do you want to do this now, or later?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder as he opened the bottle. "Whatever works for you, Bones."

"Now would be appropriate. Give me a moment to retrieve your gift." As she passed through the apartment, she placed the gift Booth gave her on a nearby table.

He poured a glass of wine for both of them, leaving hers on the counter. His in hand, he wandered over to where she'd placed her tree.

There was one ornament on it now, the skeleton he'd gifted her yesterday. Oddly touched, he ran a finger over the mark he'd added to the shoulder.

Then bent down and studied the two gifts she placed at the base.

He knew who they were for, though he only recognized one of them. The first, wrapped in red and green striped paper, was what he'd sent to her in Maluku. The other, wrapped in what looked like an old newspaper, was probably the one she hadn't sent to him.

"Interesting choice of paper," he commented, looking up at her from where he crouched. "I thought mine was wrapped in the ugliest Christmas paper I'd ever seen."

Placing the gift she'd retrieved next to the one he'd brought, she bent down next to him, then sat and crossed her legs. "There weren't any stores to visit in Maluku. I had to use what I had. You said you wanted to ask me about the island."

Humming in agreement, he rose and retrieved her glass of wine from where he'd left it. Then returned and sat on the floor next to her. He took a sip from his own glass, contemplating how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"That night you turned me down, outside the Hoover, you told me you couldn't change. And what I should have told you was that I didn't want you to. Seriously, Bones, I wanted to be with you," he said emphasizing the last word. "You as you were. And you as you are now. It finally occurred to me, after all the conversations we've had recently, that we just weren't in the same place emotionally. And that maybe no matter what words I used, you said no because you just weren't ready."

"There wasn't a question in there, Booth." But she didn't disagree with what he'd said.

"No, there wasn't," he agreed. "I guess I'm trying to ask what happened over there? You've always taken my breath away, Bones. But now, it isn't just one breath you take from me, but all of them. You're more open about your feelings. You agreed to the Secret Santa exchange. Little things. Surprising things."

She understood now, what he was trying to ask. But she wasn't sure there was an answer. "I promised myself new experiences. That I wasn't going to run when things were hard. Or I was scared to get too close."

He remained silent, knowing there was more.

She toyed with the stem of her wine glass, but didn't drink. "You are right. I wasn't ready that night, outside the Hoover. I had feelings for you and I was terrified. What kind of relationship would we have had if I couldn't give you that part of me? Not one you deserved. Not the one we are starting now." She sighed. "I don't know if that made sense."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. It made perfect sense. Maluku was good for you, Bones. Even if the hardest thing I've ever done was watch you walk away." He took a sip of wine. "I won't let you a second time," he warned her softly.

"I'm not leaving, Booth. I expect you to promise the same."

They sat close enough that Booth was able to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He waited for her to stiffen under the touch. Instead, she leaned in and stared at the tree. "The first tree I ever had as an adult was the one you and Parker brought to the jail. Maybe, it wouldn't hurt to get a string of lights to brighten this one up."

Taking a chance, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling away and getting to his feet with a groan. "Let's leave those old presents under the tree for a different night. They're from a different time and we were different people then."

Reaching out, he took her wine glass from her, placing it next to his on a counter. Turning, he laughed when she was holding out a hand, waiting for him to pull her to her feet. "Too old to get off the floor?" he joked, tugging harder than was needed to get her up. When she overbalanced slightly, he caught her before she fell.

It hadn't been his plan, but they ended up only inches apart. Her hand was still in his and the other was pressed between them. He looked down, his eyes shifting down to her lips and back up again. "Too fast?" he asked, giving her a chance to stop him.

In answer, she closed the distance between them. Not believing he was kissing her without mistletoe or alcohol, Booth kept his eyes open for a moment before allowing them to close.

She tasted of wine and something that was uniquely Bones. Of moonlit nights and walks under the stars. The kiss was gentle and breathtaking, full of promises made and dreams still forming.

Magic and wonder swirled behind his closed eyes. If anyone asked, he would have sworn that for a moment, he could see it dancing around them after they pulled apart.

Her cheeks were flushed and his eyes were darkened with desire. "I'll let you know, if we go too fast," she said, answering the question from moments ago. "Let me go turn down the oven and we can open our gifts."

Leaving the wine glasses on the counter, he followed her into the kitchen. "I need something a little colder than wine," he said, grabbing a bottle of water from her refrigerator.

Her smug chuckle did nothing to cool his overheated blood and he drank half the bottle at once. "Come open your gift, Bones."

Together they returned to her living room and sat next to each other on the couch. Close enough that even a small movement had them brushing up against each other. Neither felt the need to pull away. "You used different paper," she pointed out. Booth watched, barely hiding his amusement, as she slipped a finger under the tape and pulled gently. After what felt like a very long time, she had the box open in front of her.

"It's a stocking with my name on it," she said. Considering the gift, she glanced around the apartment. "It might look good near the tree."

But Booth shook his head. "If we aren't giving written explanations with the gifts now, you have to wait to hear the meaning behind it."

"That seems fair." Though it seemed clear to her.

"I was hoping," he explained, taking another drink from the bottle of water to hide his sudden nerves, "that you would come help me decorate my house with Parker. And that you'd hang it there with our Christmas stockings. Then maybe, Christmas morning, you'll come over and see if Santa left you any gifts."

"I'm not interfering with your time with Parker, Booth," she argued. No matter how nice spending Christmas morning with him sounded. "I can come over in the afternoon and we can open the gifts you left in this stocking then."

"You deny Santa is real, you might not get anything at all. But seriously, Bones, we want you there early Christmas morning." He'd been prepared for her argument. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it.

Turning toward him, she studied the look in his eyes. Trying to decide if he was serious or being nice. Knowing that if he was asking, he meant it. "You're sure Parker won't mind?"

"Oh, please, Bones," he said with a laugh. "He'll be as excited to see you as he will be to see the presents. He'll probably forget I'm even there."

Brennan didn't like that response. "Parker adores you. You know that."

He waved his hand. "I know. Only kidding. So you'll come?" He didn't want to push, but he wanted her there for Christmas.

"I'll come, at least for the decorating. And I'll bring this with me when I do. We can discuss Christmas morning." Seeing the determination in his eyes, Brennan had a feeling she was going to lose that argument. The cover placed back on the box, she retrieved her gift for Booth and handed it to him. "Your turn."

He took the box from her hand, but didn't take his eyes off her. "You're nervous."

"No," she denied. Then gave him a shy smile. "A little. But so were you."

"Why?" That voice, low and deep, always made her skin tingle. The one that told her he wasn't being polite, but actually cared about what she was feeling.

"I'm not good with personal gifts. I find that it was slightly easier to send the sentiments in a card."

"You do fine." Much more rapidly than Brennan, he ripped off the paper. "Is this cool wooden box the gift?" Picking it up, he turned it back and forth to get a better look, liking the age and history he was sure it had.

"No. Though it is nice." Maybe she'd take him to the antique shop. He'd love that place. "The actual gift is inside."

Carefully, he lifted the lid. "You bought me a skull?" he asked, lifting it free. "I'm guessing there's a reason." He turned it carefully in his hand. "It's too small to be real. I hope," he joked with an uncomfortable laugh.

"It's not real." Disbelief at the comment flashed across her face. "You know it's too miniature to be an accurate representation." When he smiled she knew he'd been joking. "There is a reason. You said we had to wait for the explanation." The sound of her taking a deep breath filled the quiet apartment. "Your skeleton is on the inside. Typically, you can't see it."

"Keep going," he said. A finger trailed across the top of it. Booth knew she could name everything he touched. Surprisingly, he realized there were quite a few bones he could name as well.

"But with me you've always managed to see," she paused, struggling to find the words she needed. "Underneath." Her shoulders slumped a little. "Maybe I should have selected something else. My explanation is very abstract."

Warm brown eyes met hers. "I understand. This is perfect, Bones. I love it." Underneath to the woman she tried to carefully hide. The one with the big heart ruthlessly protected to keep from being hurt. The woman who was trying to break down her walls and experience life.

The woman who'd found a way into his heart when she hadn't even been trying.

"Really? You aren't just saying that."

Booth had wanted to rebuild the connection they had. He realized they weren't doing that anymore. They were building something better.

"Of course not." He grabbed her hand, and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. "The gift is perfect, as is the person who gave it to me." Watching the blush creep up her cheeks, he gave her a smile. "Come on. Let's go get dinner."