Hello, no, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, just went on vacation for a bit. I've had time to stockpile a few of these now, though, so look for lots more in the coming weeks.

Enjoy,

Gum


"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."- Dr. Seuss

Informal

"So, Sweetie," Angela Montenegro eyed her friend as they sat across the table from one another, "What's going on with you and Agent Hottie?"

Around them the diner thrummed with the cacophony of sounds that was the lunchtime rush, but Dr. Temperance Brennan seemed unaffected as she picked at the salad in front of her.

"If you are inquiring regarding the existence of a sexual relationship between Booth and I, the answer is that there is nothing to discuss," Brennan answered without looking up, "As for his physical health, he continues to improve and the doctors have assured us that his recovery will be complete."

"Well that's a relief," Angela smiled genuinely, "But honestly, Bren, you're saying that despite the fact that you've reorganized your life and have practically moved into his apartment since he got out of the hospital nothing has gone on between the two of you?"

"It is true that my working hours are different since I am not currently serving as a consultant for the FBI," Brennan admitted, then frowned, "However, Booth is recovering from major brain surgery, as well as his negative reaction to the anesthesia. Any pursuit of a sexual relationship at this juncture would be inadvisable, not to mention immensely selfish."

"And after he recovers?" the artist prodded.

Brennan shifted uncomfortably in her seat but was saved from answering by the chime of her cell phone.

"That was Booth requesting his food," she said after scanning the text message, "One of the first things to return after the surgery was his insatiable appetite."

The two women exchanged a small smile.

"Go," Angela waved her off, chuckling, "We wouldn't want the poor man starving to death."

"The odds of that occurring given his current diet are highly unlikely," Brennan shook her head, all the while gathering up the extra food she'd ordered earlier for her partner.

"Take good care of him, Bren," Angela gave her a sad smile.

Brennan nodded and left. The entire drive to Booth's apartment, Angela's final question reverberated in her mind. If she were to be honest with herself she would have to admit that her feelings for her partner had shifted dramatically since they first started working together, but she was still unsure as to whether or not that meant that she was willing to enter into a romantic relationship with him or not. There were several factors to consider, not the least of which being that she was wholly uncertain about Booth's feelings on the topic.

When she arrived at his apartment he was waiting for her and eagerly relieved her of the food bags.

"Mmm," he grinned around a mouthful of food, "This is great, Bones!"

She smiled and nodded, still too lost in her own thoughts to respond any further.

"Cat got your tongue, Bones?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't know what that means," she shook her head, cringing slightly at the thought of a cat's sharp claws embedding themselves in her tongue.

"It means," he smiled easily, "That you haven't said a word since you got back from the diner. Are you okay?"

Once again her head bobbed up and down of its own accord, but she couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Bones," his voice held a soft reproof, though it never rose above a whisper, "Tell me what's wrong."

The food was forgotten and set aside as they instinctively turned toward one another. She studied his face; his eye just as warm as they'd always been despite the long bandage that still covered the part of his scalp where the tumor had been excised. The other half of his hair was just as thick and well-kept as it had always been.

Angela had teased Booth that he would look normal to a one-eyed man and while he'd smiled, he'd also refused to shave it to match to other side. It was, he'd told Brennan privately, his way of motivating himself to make a full recovery and while she didn't understand that, she nonetheless respected him for it.

Slowly, her eyes gravitated to his until she could escape him no longer.

"Who are we?" she asked, searching his face for answers, "Are we friends? Partners? More than partners? Angela seems to think that we should be lovers even though you have never made any overt sexual overtures toward me-"

A finger brushed her lips, silencing her immediately as he leaned forward, closing the gap between them. She felt more than saw his lips crash into hers, his tongue probing for entrance which she gave without a second thought. He captured her face in his hands, then pulled back, breaking the kiss just as her brain caught up to what was taking place.

He looked at her expectantly, a foolish grin dancing along the outskirts of the lips that had just ravished hers.

"That doesn't answer my question," she told him, her voice softer than she'd intended.

"Was it not overtly sexual enough?" he teased, tapping her nose with his finger, "'Cause I can do better."

She batted the finger away and glared at him, but the glare lost its potency as their eyes locked again.

"I'm serious," she insisted.

"So am I," he responded, taking her hand into his own, their fingers weaving together automatically.

For a long moment, neither one of them said anything.

"We are," he started, squeezing her hand as he broke the silence, "Us."

"Us?" it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Bones," he nodded, "Some things you just can't put labels on and we're one of them."

"But you wish to engage in a sexual relationship with me?" she thought of the kiss they had just shared, "To be more than mere partners?"

"I want to be your partner," his kissed her, "Your friend," another kiss, "And your lover for the rest of my life," the kiss was longer this time, but he pulled back before she could deepen it, "So whatever that makes us, Bones, that's who we are."

"I usually am opposed to workplace relationships," she informed him, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Our offices are in two separate places," he pointed out.

"I don't want marriage," she warned.

"Monogamy's a good enough start," he pulled her onto his lap, "Though maybe one of these years we'll work up to being engaged to be engaged."

She swatted his shoulder and he pretended that it hurt.

"I may still want a child with you," she admitted.

"When we're ready I'll make the direct deposit myself," he grinned as if indulging in a private joke, "And I'll be there for both of you."

"What if we can't handle it?" visions of all of her past failed relationships flashed through her mind.

"We've managed to survive psycho serial killers and stalkers, not to mention brain surgery and our respective dysfunctional family members," he traced the outline of her jaw tenderly, "I think we can handle whatever else comes our way."

Satisfied for the moment, she allowed herself to rest against his chest, surprised at how the action felt both familiar and new at the same time.

That night there were no grand declarations of love, nor did they transcend the laws of physics. Instead, they curled up in his king size bed and fell asleep, content in the knowledge that whatever came next in their ever-deepening relationship, they would face it together.