{I was going to put this one up immediately after the last one, but I had something come up. Still, multiple same-day updates is good, right?}


"So you're not working on anything new?" Hank said conversationally, looking up from his food.

The Founding Fathers was busy tonight, and the general hum of various conversations made for comfortable background noise. After waiting for Hank's taxi to arrive, they had gotten a table right away- partially because the service was always excellent, and partially because the two partners were known here almost as well as at the diner. It all made for smooth transitioning into easy conversation.

"Not yet," replied Brennan. "But probably by the end of the week we'll have a new one. That's usually the frequency at which they come up."

"That's a lot of murders."

"Yes," she said softly.

Parker glanced between his great grandfather and the anthropologist, not saying much but clearly internalizing what they said.

Hank noticed, and quickly shifted the topic. "So what do you folks do between cases?"

Booth answered quickly. "Bones works on stuff the Jeffersonian assigns her. You know, real anthropology stuff. Ancient remains."

"That is really what I became an anthropologist to do," she agreed. "It's my comfort, my core passion."

Hank glanced at his grandson. "And you? What do you do?"

"Sometimes work normal cases, sometimes take the time off to spend with Parker." He ruffled his son's hair.

The older man's face became disapproving. "You two don't do anything together between cases?"

"Sure they do," Parker interjected suddenly, grinning. "Bones lets me and dad go swim at her place!"

"Bones?" Hank smiled wryly. "Is that what you let him call her, Shrimp?"

"No," Booth amended quickly. "We've talked about this, Parker, remember?"

"Dad says I could call her Dr. Brennan. It's more respectful. But sometimes I forget."

Hank nodded. "I agree. You should respect your elders."

Brennan chuckled, taking a quick sip of water. "I don't mind, really. Ordinarily I would prefer Dr. Brennan, but I am learning that alternative names can be a sign of affection and friendship, and since I allow Booth to call me Bones, I don't see any reason to not let his son do so as well. Parker hears his dad call me that all the time."

"So I can call you Bones?" Parker asked, his eyes illuminating hopefully.

"Of course."

"A sign of affection is right." Hank's voice held some kind of significance in the way he said it, but Brennan chose not to analyze it. "So you two do see each other between cases?"

Booth frowned. Obviously Hank was fishing for something, and was determined not to let the subject drop. "Sometimes, Pops, okay? Why does it matter?"

"Well I just want to know how two people who can face down death together spend their off-days, that's all!" He sounded innocent, but there was no such purity in his flashing blue eyes. "Can't you humor an old man?"

Brennan, of course, humored him. "Well when we aren't working on a case, in the evenings we usually have our own schedules. We have separate social lives, you know." Though if she were being completely honest, lately those separate social lives seemed to have been dissolving a bit in favor of more time spent together.

"You have a boyfriend, right? A beautiful girl like you can't be single for very long."

Her thoughts flashed to Hacker briefly, but she instantly rejected the notion. However intriguing he was, and however many dates they'd gone on, they were not in a committed relationship. "I date," she decided.

"Dad doesn't have a girlfriend," Parker offered helpfully.

"I know." Hank's voice sounded comically depressed. "I must have goofed up somewhere in raising him."

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like this situation one bit. His grandfather was being far too nosey, having been disappointed with the lack of progress being made to bring to two together. Meanwhile Parker was being all too informative and Bones didn't seem to have any reserve either. He didn't like where it all was headed.

This discomfort combined with the constant reminder of her that hung around him like an aura. Her scent clung to him. His mind continually conjured up that brief image of her changing her shirt. And as usual, he was hyper-aware of every movement she made. She looked so simply beautiful there in the light of the restaurant, her attention split between his grandfather and his son. Her smile was gentler then he usually saw it, and there was a bright look on her face that he never saw while they were at work. It was the opposite look she wore when she used to go visit her father in prison. Instead of a sad little girl, she looked like a wonder-struck child basking in her first taste of family.

Sometimes he felt like he didn't really know her at all. She still surprised him so much. Occasionally in social situations she was unfamiliar with, she would treat it like a squint and try to run little, subtle (or not-so-subtle) experiments to gauge the situation. Sometimes, she was just obstinate or obnoxious. Sometimes she was silent, letting him and his social prowess run the show. And sometimes, once in a long while, she shocked him by behaving like she was tonight. Subdued, submissive, eager to soak in the simplistic happiness of a moment. She was better than he sometimes gave her credit for. Underneath that rational genius squint, she was actually a person who used to know normal human behavior and who thirsted for comfortable moments to resurface.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him softly, drawing him out of his ruminations.

He saw that Hank and Parker were distracted observing an oddly dressed couple and making remarks at their expense. He glanced back at Bones. "About you," he answered honestly. "About how comfortable you seem to be right now, even though this conversation is getting awkward and it's with my grandfather and my son. What's gotten into you?"

She gave him a strange look, as if she wasn't expecting a reply that honest. Her smile was that crooked half-smile that he loved so much. "Are you getting uncomfortable with the topic?"

"I just don't need my partner, my grandfather, and my son discussing my love life, that's all."

"I find it amusing you get skittish whenever this topic comes up. Having a romantic life is normal, Booth."

"Well what about you?" he hissed quietly, hoping very much that the other two at the table were not drawn away from their conversation to listen in. "Going out on a date with my boss once in a blue moon doesn't exactly count, does it? Where is your boyfriend?"

"What does the moon have to do with anything?" She was secretly glad for the unfamiliar expression so she wouldn't have to address the rest.

"Forget it," he sighed. "Just remember when the conversation picks back up that neither of us are really the model of healthy relationships, okay?"

She shrugged, pretending to be ambivalent to the whole subject. Truthfully, she was very much aware of her lack of a sex-life. Hacker may have been charming, but he most definitely wasn't physically appealing and she didn't ever see herself engaging in anything resembling intimacy with him. It had been a long time since she had someone like that. Lately it was becoming harder and harder to think about getting into a real relationship.

"So," said Hank, turning back around. "Did you meet my grandson's fiancé?"

"Padme, yes, I did." Brennan picked at her food. "She seems nice, though only one encounter doesn't seem enough to judge for certain." She side-glanced at her partner. "Jared seems to really love her."

Booth was nonplussed by her look. He had come to terms with Padme's past. Since it didn't bother Jared, it shouldn't bother him. Besides, watching Brennan get upset at his hypocritical intolerance made him relax about the whole thing. As usual, he would do or say just about anything to put her at ease. "I still think it's a little crazy they're getting married after only a month of knowing each other."

"Your gram and I only courted for a month before we got married. There's nothing wrong with that," Hank chided. "Gives you a chance to grow with each other, to have something to learn about the other person when the passion wears off."

"That is a very good theory," said Brennan. "A lot of cultures still practice arranged marriages, using that very argument to support their beliefs."

"Whoa, wait, you support the idea of arranged marriages?" Booth was incredulous.

All eyes, including young Parker's, turned to him. Brennan got that familiar expression, where she was about to defend intellectual reason over gut-reaction. "Yes, Booth, I do. Arranged marriages have a higher percentage of working out long term than when we choose our partners ourselves."

"Yeah because in cultures where they arrange marriages, they're also not allowed to divorce!"

The corner of her mouth twitched in annoyance. "That is not always true. Besides, it's like what Hank said, you have to learn about your partner and grow to love them, which some argue is a better formula for a successful relationship."

Something in the pit of his stomach stirred at the words she was saying. Something that hinted this didn't have to apply to arranged marriages alone. "But what about when two people have to get married, only to find out they are complete opposites?"

She shrugged and looked away. "Opposites can attract." Her voice was soft.

Hank cut in, giving voice to the Booth's suspicion. "I agree with the lady, Shrimp. Think about it. You two were kind of arranged, weren't you? You didn't choose to work together in the beginning, did you? And you've grown into each other."

It was true. And they were more successful because they had to learn early on how to get over their vast differences. Booth still wasn't ready to admit they had a point, especially because he knew his grandfather was hunting for something, and he didn't want to give the old man any kind of satisfaction in that department.

"Dad, could you maybe talk to Lucy Wither's parents?" Parker asked hopefully.

Brennan laughed in surprise while Hank gave his great grandson a startled look. Booth set down his fork. "What is this sudden fixation with marriage, Parker? You're not even old enough to date Lucy, let alone marry her."

"Then we could watch Transformers together," Parker concluded, scooping up a large bite of mac and cheese.

"It's a wonder the kid even considers marriage as a possibility, you know, with the examples you and Rebecca set for him." Hank shook his head disapprovingly. "At least he's got an uncle with his head in the right place."

"Okay, how about we find something else to talk about besides my love life?" Booth sounded a little more curt than he usually did when addressing the man he admired so much.

"Like Jared's wedding?" Brennan suggested. "I think that's where the conversation was going before we started talking about arranged marriages."

"Yeah, okay. That works. Pops, you're coming, right?"

Hank snorted. "Of course I'm coming! And I'm bringing Nadine too."

"Who is Nadine?"

"She's my girlfriend."

Brennan and Booth exchanged startled looks at this blunt reply, and Parker started laughing. "You have a girlfriend, Grandpa Pops? But you're so old!"

"I may be old, but that doesn't mean I can't get any girls," replied the elder. "I can be quite charming, you know."

Booth cleared his throat. "I thought you still loved Gram…"

"I do." Hank's voice grew hard and his clever, alert blue eyes leveled on his grandson. "Believe me, Shrimp, I do. I miss her every day. But that doesn't mean I have to spend the rest of my years alone, do I? I'm lonely, and Nadine is lonely too. Her husband died four years ago. We're not getting married or anything, so don't get your briefs in a bundle. We're just keeping each other company, that's all."

"That seems like an intelligent arrangement," Brennan said with a gentle smile. "I'd like to meet her."

"Oh believe me, I think you two would get along well. Deanie is like you." Hank chuckled.

"An empirical scientist?" Brennan's surprise was obvious in her tone. "A genius and best-selling author?"

"Humility, Bones, we talked about this," Booth murmured quietly.

Hank laughed. "Leave her alone, kid. She's just being honest, if a little literal. No, Doctor, she's got gumption. She speaks her mind. Like you. Those steel ovaries we talked about."

"Oh." Brennan couldn't decide if she was disappointed (since she had been hoping to find someone else of a similar mindset) or if she was flattered that Hank thought she had gumption. She glanced at the table, twirling one of her rings absently on her finger. "So you're bringing her to the wedding?"

"Yeah. You better be there."

"I will," she assured him quickly. Then, realizing her error, glanced at her partner quickly while a faint trace of color warmed her cheeks. "That is, if Booth invites me."

"Of course you're invited, Bones," Booth said immediately. "That's a given. Besides, Jared knows I rarely go anywhere without you, and Padme really liked you, so they're already including you in the guest list." He chilled at the prospect of seeing her dressed to the nines again. Padme had reason to hate Brennan, as far as Booth was concerned, because very likely she would upstage the bride in beauty. Or at least, that was what it would seem to him.

"I would have knock him off his block if he didn't invite you," Hank remarked with a grin.

Brennan's expression was skeptical. "No offense, Hank, but Booth is young and very strong. He might let you hit him without trying to stop you, but I doubt you could generate enough force to knock him down."

"Well, I'd invite you myself then," laughed Hank, unconcerned with her observation of his advanced age.

Booth tuned out of their light bantering. He felt distracted and out of sorts. His gaze kept drifting to her fingers, fidgeting with that old ring she had, fighting the image of himself reaching out to catch those flighty, lonely fingers in his own and clasp them tight. He knew those hands. He studied them almost daily. Sometimes, he could still feel the cool press of them on his arm from the many times she had touched him. He watched them in their element, handling the bones of people long gone, grasping them with the greatest of care. They were fascinating tools to him, and he wanted so badly to hold them in his own, just for a moment.

"Dad," Parker said quietly. "I'm tired. Are we going to stay a long time?"

"No buddy, we're almost done." He was relieved for distraction. He glanced up and saw his partner leaning in on the table, her expression intent. She was enjoying herself. He hated to cut it short.

"Didn't you say, Shrimp, that this therapist of yours was putting out a book soon about the two of you?" Hank asked suddenly.

Booth was instantly alert. His gaze swung between his grandfather and his partner quickly. What had they been talking about while he was lost in thought? "Yeah, Sweets, he is. But I'm not going to let you read it, Pops."

"I don't think so," Hank protested with a frown. "I'm going to read it if I please. Deanie and I will read it together, since her eyesight is better than mine."

"Look, Pops, I hate to cut this short but I've got to get Parker back. He's tired from all our swimming." Booth signaled for the check. Parker yawned as if to punctuate his point. Truthfully, the kid probably could have hung on for a few more minutes but Booth wasn't willing to sit around to see where the discussion of Sweet's book would lead them.

Brennan nodded when she looked at Parker, agreeing softly that it would be good to get him home. She wondered briefly what dreams would fill the little boy's head tonight. Would they be of swimming, or of her place? Or would they be of the little girl in his class with the tomboy backpack who he wanted to marry? She smiled whimsically at the thought.

Hank insisted he be allowed to foot the bill, after much argument from both Booth and Brennan. After all was paid, they bid a fond farewell and parted ways. Booth drove Brennan home, promising to call her when a case came through.

Each was perhaps a little eager to be out of each other's company for once, since the evening had been exhausting. Perhaps not physically, but certainly each was tired of dodging Hank's questions and remarks, and tired of constantly calculating the other's thoughts and motives. Sometimes, it was good to get a break. But when Brennan returned to her empty apartment, she felt the solitude of it more keenly than usual. Without her two favorite Booths, the place felt hollow. Like a house, but not a home.

{R&R, my fine fellow fic'rs. :) Your comments keep me going. Coming up next: the case! And the squints we love so much. And don't worry, Parker and Pops will return for more fun later. X3 }