The digital readout on her alarm clock alerted her she had slept much longer than she had intended. She hadn't even remembered falling asleep, just thinking she would rest her eyes for a second. After a quick bathroom break and a wardrobe check she went out to find her partner. He was in the living room watching some TV and enjoying the second half of his grilled cheese sandwich.
"Hey Bones," he greeted her. "I was beginning to worry you were hibernating in there."
She helped herself to a now cooled sandwich from a platter near the stove. The man had a knack for making the perfect grilled cheese.
"I'm not sure if you're insulting my weight or saying I sleep too much." Dropping unceremoniously into the arm chair she picked off a hunk of sandwich and tossed it into her mouth.
"Let's go with option…neither of those. How'd you sleep?"
"Well. I suppose I needed the rest."
"Nothing wrong with a little siesta in the middle of the afternoon. I do it quite often during long football games."
She snorted a laugh. "So what have you been doing while I was siesta-ing?"
"Well, I saw Scooby and the gang, along with the Harlem Globetrotters, save the day from a mystery ghost."
"Who?"
"Scooby-Doo."
"I don't know him."
Sometimes he couldn't believe she really was a doctor. "Never mind. Other than watching the TV and whipping up culinary delights, I've been giving your rule idea some thought."
"Booth, before that-"
"-No," he interrupted with a raised hand. "While I was shocked you said it, I get it. There's a lot of shit between us right now that needs dealt with and being here, living together, this unforced forced closeness…I just, I get it."
She smiled weakly. "I should probably still say I'm sorry."
"Nah. Let's just forget it okay?" He patted the seat next to him on the couch and she slid off the arm to fill the space.
"So I've been thinking about these rules…" he started.
"Hmm, really? I'm surprised."
"Is that so hard to believe?"
"Sorry, go on. So what have you come up with?"
"Besides your 'alone time' thing, which by the way now that I've had some time to think about it is a great idea, I was thinking maybe we should discuss some…boundary issues."
"I don't follow." She wiped the last of her crumbs onto her pants. "Give me an example."
"Okay. For starters, do you plan on bringing men home?"
He watched her face jerk back in surprise at his question. It really was only fair. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to live under the same roof as her if she planned on bringing back some schmuck to fulfill her womanly needs.
"I guess I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "I'm not seeing anyone currently…are you asking because you want to bring women here?" He responded instantly with a definite no way.
"I was also thinking about clothing…" he picked at a microscopic piece of lint on her sofa.
"What about it?"
"I think there should be a minimum," he explained. "That way there isn't any…confusion about things."
"You're speaking so vaguely Booth." He could tell today wasn't one of those days she was choosing to understand his line of thought and he was going to have to spell everything out in detail for her.
"Are you saying we should keep it at a minimal or have a minimum?" she continued. "Because in that case-"
"Minimum Bones. Minimum. You can't go walking around here in your bra and underwear." There he said it. Having to live with her was one thing, but seeing her everyday in her smoking hot body compiled by little to no clothing…it would kill him…or give him way too much 'alone time.'
"Or t-shirts and that girly, lacy…worded whatever it is."
"…girly…oh you mean…the cheeky panties. Yes I guess those are a bit over the top. Why do manufacturers put words on them?"
Booth let his head hit the back of the couch in a ditch effort to keep it from rolling off his neck and onto the floor. "Bones," he groaned," it's not the words." BOY TOY.
"It's not?"
"No. It's the fact that they aren't appropriate to be wearing in front of a house guest."
"But this is my house."
"I know that, but I am a guest here and me seeing you in them isn't appropriate."
"Were they too small? Angela said that was the way they were intended to fit but I wasn't sure. I have another pair-"
"Bones!" He stopped her with a hand clamped over her mouth to stop whatever sexy saying was about to pop from it. "The size is fine. It's your ass in them that bothers me."
His hand dropped from her mouth and onto the couch next to hers.
"I think I understand," she said quietly. She couldn't hide the blush that rose from her neck to her cheeks and caused a smile to blossom on her lips.
"Good, 'cause anymore explaining and I was going to have to go hang a sock on my door."
She laughed at his obvious discomfort. "I'm sorry." Then gripped his hand. "I'll make sure I'm fully clothed from now on." Giving it a little squeeze," even when it's the middle of the night and house guests are presumed asleep."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically, catching her drift.
"You're welcome. So now that my minimums are set we should talk about yours."
"Mine?" he laughed. "Oh sure." He cleared his throat officially and raised his right hand. "I swear to never wear girly underwear in front of behind closed doors. Feel better now?"
"Ha ha," she laughed dryly. "I was thinking more along the lines of your keeping your shirts on."
"Shirts?" He looked inside the t-shirt he was wearing through the neck hole down to his chest. "I don't have man boobs Bones, never have."
"Precisely. And even more precisely, all humans - men and women - have mammary glands. Your chest is much defined and…nice looking…so if I have to wear full coverage of my body, so do you."
"Oh I get it," he chuckled smugly. "You can't help but eye my chest huh?"
"Yes Booth, it turns me on so badly I can't breathe."
"Really?" His smiled was going to break his face if he kept it that way much longer.
"No, not really. It just pisses me off you were never that muscular before Hannah."
His face fell, but only slightly. "Hannah was indirect of this Bones. This," he swept a finger over his chest," is from nearly a year in the desert with nothing to do but work out and shoot at things. Believe it or not this wasn't for anyone."
She shrugged one shoulder and "hmpt."
"You've been working out too Bones. I noticed it the moment I saw you again. You've put on some muscle in your arms and legs." He pointed to her stomach. "Let's see those abs."
"No, get away," she giggled as he went for the hem of her shirt. "I won't show you anything."
"Oh come on," he pressed. "You chicken?"
"Not chicken, Booth." She hated being called a coward in any facet. "See?"
Her shirt raised gave him an excellent view of the taught, tan stomach she held captive under all her clothes.
"Good grief Bones, you're on your way to a six pack. You look better than me. Damn girl." He poked the hard muscle. "What's your secret?"
"Maluku diet consisting of what Parker might call 'bugs on a stick'."
"Oh gross," he laughed. "Well whatever it was, you look great. I also like the fact you've got some color now. Even after nearly a year you still look tan."
"Thanks," she said softly. Being at the receiving end of compliments wasn't really a strong suit of hers. "You…you look good too."
"Awh Bones, you're going to turn me into a pile of goo," he purred at her.
"That's scientifically impossible Booth."
"Not everything is scientific Bones," he replied with a wink.
Booth readjusted himself on the couch and Brennan noticed the stiffness to his frame and face. He had just been laughing, even winking at her, so what caused the large shift so quickly? He interrupted her as soon as she opened her mouth to ask him.
"The fire marshal called while you were asleep." He picked at a cuticle on his left thumb.
"What did he say? Can you can go back to your apartment?" It wasn't an invitation to leave, quite the opposite in fact, but she knew he would want to try to salvage what he could of his belongings.
"Back, no." He shook his head. "And he is a she. Fire Marshallette I suppose. I didn't know women could be fire marshals, did you?"
"Yes Booth, and we can vote now too and wear shorts," she answered playfully.
"Oh har har," he laughed tweaking her nose. "You know what I meant. She said the building was a total loss but some of the bottom apartments were untouched so most of their stuff was okay."
She felt he was holding back. "Was there anything else?"
"She said I could come back, look for stuff. As long as it fit in a cardboard box, I can keep it." He sighed rubbing his hands on his shorts. "My life consists on what fits into a cardboard box."
"Better than a black trash bag," she remarked quickly. "At least with a box it won't rip and your underwear follows behind you down the sidewalk."
"That's true," he laughed softly. "We're a pretty sad bunch, Bones. You'll help me tomorrow right? I don't know if I can dig through all that shit alone."
"Of course. I'll make us a big breakfast, you can go to church, and then we can go."
"As dread full as it's going to be, that sounds like a really nice plan." He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet, we haven't found anything."
"That doesn't matter; nearly all of it can be replaced. Just having you there to help me means a lot."
.
.
True to her word when Booth stepped out of the spare bedroom the next morning he was greeted by a large breakfast spread of eggs, French toast, bacon and orange juice. She was seated with her back to him at the table helping herself from the large stack next to her then dousing it in maple syrup.
"That's going to give you some major cavities," he teased taking the seat at the head of the table, and next to her. "Man this smells good." He helped himself to the spread. "When did you buy bacon?" He took a big bite and hummed in his throat. "I could live on this stuff."
"Not for long you wouldn't," she observed. "Bacon isn't good for you."
"Bones, let me get philosophical for a second, anything God made taste this good," he pointed to the bacon in his fingers," is always good for you. He wants us to be happy."
"And bacon makes you happy?"
"Damn straight it does."
They parted ways after breakfast and agreed go to the apartment after Booth returned from church and have lunch.
Brennan found herself uneasy about returning back to her partner's now charred apartment. She wasn't receptive to people's needs the way Angela was and was unsure how to deal with what was surely going to be an emotionally heavy time. 'Hannah would have been better' she told herself, embarrassed that it was true. Hannah had been the epitome of everything she not been. Blonde, friendly, socially outgoing, and by the way she saw the woman grab his ass several times, sexually confident. All the things, that if she admitted to herself, she wished she could be. Except blonde, she really hated blondes.
.
Booth found solace and respite in the pastor's sermon. Being in church always put his mind and soul at ease, but this morning it was especially comforting. The sermon was on new beginnings -couldn't be more appropriate if God picked it out himself - and turning out past lives and welcoming new and wonderful gifts from God. The words gave Booth pause. A whole new door was opening up for him. A door he hoped Temperance Brennan was either behind or there to walk through with him. Glancing at his watch he realized he'd been gone just over an hour and was already missing her face.
Once the sermon was over he took a dollar from his wallet and placed it in the small offering can next to the rows of candles at the front of the church. He wasn't feeling completely blessed these days and he just needed a sign that things were going to be alright. A few hail Marys and Our Fathers and he was feeling refreshed and renewed and was out the door.
.
"Bones?" He dropped his keys and wallet on the table by the door. "Bones you home?" The soft muffle of a radio was coming from the back of the apartment.
"Oh Bones," he sang, "where are you?"
He found her singing Best of My Love with her arms full of clean towels fresh from the dryer.
"Hey Bones!" he greeted her back as she headed to her bedroom.
"Ayyhh! Holy shit Booth! Where did you come from?" Her heart rate, as well as her towels, was in a heap at her feet.
"I just got back from church," he told her helping put the linens back in her arms. "Let me help."
"That explains the Jesus smell."
"Jesus doesn't smell Bones." He jabbed a hand towel under her chin.
"He only bathed once a week Booth, of course he smelled." She waved a hand for him to follow her into the bedroom.
He snorted at her awesomely lame but killer Bones joke as he followed her. Her bedroom had never been off limits per se before; he just hadn't the need to go in there very often. He stopped beside her at the bed and began folding in step with her.
"So church was good?" she asked casually as she guided his hand to the correct fold.
"Yeah," he chuckled, "it was good." He watched the ease she used gliding her hands over his. "Um, how was your day?"
"Laundry, so I've been productive. I also paid my bills, ate a sandwich and considered purchasing a set of hot rollers online but decided against it."
"Hot rollers? For your hair?" He handed her the stack of newly folded towels. "I thought your hair was naturally curly?"
"What I pass off as naturally curly is actually a frighteningly scary case of what Angela calls the frizzies tamed by a high heat curling iron."
He watched her step on her tippy toes putting the towels on an upper shelf fighting the urge for his eyes to scope out her ass. Didn't he just talk to God about that?
"Well you pass them off gloriously," he teased with a wink. "So what are our plans for today?" He stretched his arms above his head with a long yawn. "I feel a heavy lunch with a long nap coming on." Patting his belly he eyed the kitchen. "What's for lunch?"
Smiling flirtatiously and patting his cheek," whatever you fix yourself. Then we need to go over to your apartment and try to salvage some things."
He grimaced. "Can't that wait?"
"For what Booth? If we wait any longer it will all be swept away with bulldozers."
"I know," he sighed, leading the way to the kitchen then v-ing to the fridge. He contemplated several meal options.
"What's bothering you Booth?" Brennan asked sympathetically.
"You have no mustard."
"That's what's bothering you? Mustard…or lack there of?" She pushed back from the stool she had been perched on. "I think I have some in the pantry." He listened to her root around then come back holding out his favorite brand.
"I'm surprised you didn't throw this out with the rest of my things," he half-teased. Popping the seal he squirted a heavy dose onto two slices of bread and rubbed it around to cover each surface.
"That's disgusting," she laughed watching him. "And I didn't throw everything out of yours; I kept a few things. I just got rid of things that confused me." She crinkled her nose at the even heavier dose of turkey breast lunch meat he put on the bread after peeling it apart.
"I need a tomato for this; you got one?"
She pointed at the fridge," tomato keeper."
"Oh," he laughed," duh. So what stuff confused you? I guess I don't follow that line of reasoning." The socks she had so confidently hidden leapt to the forefront of his mind.
She shrugged, mostly from embarrassment of the question, as she retook her seat. "Things, mementos, you gave me at times when we were incredibly close."
He dropped his shoulders. "You threw out Brainy Smurf?"
"Of course not! Jasper either."
"Okay, then what are you talking about? Creepy stuff like toenail clippings?"
"That's even more disgusting then that flesh sandwich."
"It's delicious, you want a bite?" He offered it under her nose.
"You want that crammed down your throat?" she asked shoving it back at him. "Just stuff Booth."
"So it is toe nail clippings; gross Bones!"
"Would you shut-up with that? It was things like your t-shirts you gave me when I stayed the night after falling asleep on your couch, or little notes you left me on my desk. Origami giraffes and 800 ketchup packets you insisted I kept because we might need then one day. Who needs that much ketchup? Ties I bought for you but never got around to giving you…just stuff."
He nodded in understanding. "Socks too."
"What?"
"Nothing," he recanted. "I had a few of those things too Bones."
"Really?"
"Of course. We worked together a long time."
"But we were friends too," she said, her voice not quite convinced.
He grabbed her hand. "The best Bones. You know Hannah found four pairs of your shoes and three tubes of lipstick. She asked me if I had hookers over on my lunch hour. It was hard for her to wrap her mind around the fact all those things were yours and we were never…involved."
"Well we spent a long of time together."
He took another large bite and chewed as he nodded in agreement.
"Was she mad?"
He shook his head. "No mad, disbelieving at first."
"Why?"
He smirked. "I knew all the shades."
"Of lipstick? Really?"
"I'd been looking at it on my coffee cups for nearly a decade Bones, of course I knew." He watched her face pale slightly. "Didn't think I knew you constantly drank after me? FBI Bones, nothing gets passed me."