Every time you say
you love me
I look for shelter.

But these matters are small.

You are sitting next to Booth at a table inside the diner, with Jared and Padme across from you. You tell them about your baby and they smile, but not as widely as Booth.

You look at Jared and think of the rush you got when you pushed him off a bar stool. And then your face softens as you remember being dangerously intrigued by this younger Booth. Your best friend had told you that you were hoping to get Booth without getting the real Booth. You denied this, but you know now that her statement was correct.

There have been so many moments in the past that have scared you. You remember new foster homes, hostile classmates, and the horror of a car trunk. Though you have always claimed and even flaunted your brilliance, you can recall the anxiety before a big exam. You remember moments when your life has been in danger:

Hanging from a hook, threatened with a knife, your body meant to be devoured by hungry dogs.

Feeling lightheaded in a buried SUV as your oxygen supply ran low, hand shaking as you tried to write the words, "This wasn't your fault."

Singing a fun pop song then hearing the gunshot that was meant for you, feeling both his blood pool between your fingers and anger that it wasn't you she shot instead.

When you think about the sight of Booth wounded and exhausted, still wearing part of the finest tux money could rent, you feel dread creep into each of your two hundred and six bones even though he is safe and is sitting beside you now, his fingers entwined with yours as he shares a joke with his brother.

Later that night when you return home to your apartment, he stays. One of you always stays. You reach for your toothbrush, which you keep in a shell from your father. You look in the mirror and see Booth walking in behind you. He lowers his head, places a kiss on your shoulder, and puts his hands on your stomach, caressing your slightly swollen belly.

"You're having my baby," he says quietly, a trace of awe in his voice that is still present after the first trimester and a sonogram.

"I am aware of that, Booth."

He smiles and you smile and he reaches for his toothbrush as you once again think about fear, simply because you are just now noticing its absence in your relationship and this surprises you.

There have been moments of great fear in your life, but there have been smaller moments, too.

You remember a drunken kiss in the rain, the taste of tequila and him on your tongue. All you wanted was sex, but as you kissed him you felt things you had never felt before, things you couldn't name or rationalize. You wanted him, but not badly enough to give into those things, whatever they were.

And then there was a night when he was involved with someone else, but you had paperwork and stale donuts and he stayed. You both confessed that you each found the other attractive, but of course you didn't say so clearly or outright. Instead, you smiled at each other, pausing a moment too long. As he leaned on the table toward you, you saw something in his eyes that caused those pesky things to stir again. Though all you had to drink that day had been water, for a moment you could almost taste tequila on your tongue and you craved more.

He spoke in the diner once about making love and you felt two things, both irrational: jealousy he had known this feeling at all and fear that you would never know it without him.

You think about a moment when you should have been afraid, but weren't until after the moment had ended. There you were, showing him the exhibit no one else had seen yet. You began your little tour on separate sides of the room, but before you knew it the two of you had walked closer to each other, as if neither of you really had another choice. He asked you about the man you were going to invite to the event, but you looked at Booth in his tux and knew you had made the right choice. As you spoke his own words back to him, he stepped closer to you. He had a serious look on his face and you glanced at his lips and he glanced at yours. You were sure he would have kissed you had the group not shown up when they did. Still, he didn't back away from you immediately. You didn't back away from him, either. You needed something and you still weren't afraid so you allowed yourself to reach out and fix his bow tie, though you both knew it didn't actually need fixing. He needed something too so he reached for your hair and pushed it away from your shoulder. You both gave yourselves another second to simply enjoy each other's presence and then you walked upstairs. He drove you home that night and you invited him up to your apartment for a drink. At that moment, you couldn't think of a time when you had wanted him to accept your offer more. You didn't know this then, but he couldn't think of a time when he wanted to accept your offer more, either. But he said it was late and that the day had been long and you agreed, even though you didn't.

Alone in your apartment, you kicked off your high heels and left them in your living room. You walked into your bedroom and took off the dress that hugged your curves so elegantly. Before you could deny yourself the image, you thought about his fingers undoing the zipper, his hands pulling the dress away from your body. And there it was again: fear. Though you had wanted him and he had wanted you, you knew that had he come upstairs that night you would have ended up in your bed, him finishing the kiss he almost started and so much more.

You had slept with several men, but with none of them would you have ever used the term "ours" and meant it. You had an "ours" with Booth. You would not ruin that with sex.

"Bones? I'm pretty sure your teeth are good and clean by now," he says with a chuckle as he walks out of the bathroom.

His voice pulls you back from your memories and you realize you've been brushing the same spot for much longer than necessary. You spit out your toothpaste and place your toothbrush next to his in the shell.

Your eyes begin to fill with tears and you blame this on the hormones of pregnancy, but even you know these are not tears of sadness but of gratitude. You climb into bed next to the man you love and take his hand underneath the sheets. You both lay on your sides facing each other, you staring intently at his face.

He asks you what's on your mind and you tell him.

"I was thinking about toothbrushes, Booth."

"Toothbrushes, huh? You know, I remember what you told me about keeping those things exposed in the bathroom. . ."

He trails off with a smile and you continue.

"There was a time in my life when I was terrified of having your toothbrush next to mine and your silly socks in my drawer and your beer in my refrigerator. I don't feel afraid of those things anymore." You smile, pride all over your face.

"What changed, Bones? Why aren't you afraid anymore?"

"I used to be so frightened to get close to you because I couldn't name the emotions you made me feel. I didn't want to feel anything that deeply, but it was as if I couldn't help myself when it came to you. I know that our hearts are just an organ that cannot think or feel, but metaphorically, my heart wanted you anyway. I still don't like metaphors, Booth, but you do and I'm trying to speak your language now so you'll understand what I need to say to you. I'm not scared anymore because I know that not having your toothbrush next to mine is so much scarier than having it."

Even though you just told him you're glad he's in your life by talking about toothbrushes and your metaphorical heart, you know you said the right thing when he kisses you and you feel your baby flutter for the first time.