056. Breakfast
"You cook?" Brennan's eyebrows quirk incredulously, but she perches on the edge of the couch. Booth is keenly aware of her eyes on his back as he makes his way over to the small kitchen, wondering why he's brought her here of all places. But she obviously has no interest in going to a restaurant, and he can't bear to leave her alone knowing she's just been abandoned again.
"I've been told I make excellent toast and eggs," he says to the inside of the refrigerator, smiling to himself at the memory of steaks and Wyatt's grill. "Scrambled or over-easy?"
"I'm fine, Booth," she says, ignoring the question. "You don't have to be nice to me."
"Scrambled," he decides, tapping butter into the frying pan. The eggs sizzle as he breaks them over the side, not quite easing the weight of the silence that's rapidly growing in the room. "Creepy tradition, pairing off the dead," Booth says, opting for the safety of the case, though they've more than exhausted the topic already.
"Angela seemed to like it," says Brennan absently.
"Angela would." He lifts the pan off the burner, watching the egg white turn cloudy before puncturing the yoke with a spatula.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just, you know, Angela really goes for that kind of thing. Soul mates, true love, all the big epic romance stuff. You know, it makes sense to her. She's an artist." He flips the eggs out onto a plate, and puts two pieces of bread into the toaster, waiting for her reply. When it doesn't come, he goes back to the refrigerator for strawberry jelly, not bothering to ask this time. He thinks about confessions and sailboats, and wonders how he could still be naïve enough to believe that toast and eggs will do anything to help. The toast startles him when it pops, and he spreads the jelly on too quickly.
Booth takes the plate into the living room, stopping short at the sight of Brennan asleep on his couch. He smiles as he sets the plate softly down on the table. Brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ears, he pulls the afghan from the back of the couch and settles it over her, preparing himself for a day of silence.