Going to try and get three or four chapters up today! Woop! I owe you guys. .

Disclaimer: That depressing feeling you get when you remember: you don't own your favorite show.

Sick!

Takes place nine weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"Uuuughh." Booth groaned to the ceiling.

Half an hour ago, he'd woken up to a slight headache and an empty bed. One of his two problems was resolved when he heard water running in the bathroom. The other, however, escalated. Minutes after he woke up, he had to shield his eyes from the bright light shining through the blinds. Tossing an arm over his face he lay motionless for minutes until the headache became unbearable. Moving caused the headache to scream and staying still encouraged it to worsen. Finally he had to face it. There was only one explanation.

He was sick. And he did not feel good.

It wasn't like this sprung out of the blue. He'd felt a little more drained than normal by the time he'd gotten home. Sure it was work, and it left you naturally with a sense of some down time and relaxing, but a person knew when they were feeling sick, and he was sure not to bring it up in any of last nights conversations.

Just as he was ready to force himself out of the bed – due to sore limbs and a throbbing skull – the bathroom door opened. Fresh from her shower, and forever stopping his mission of sneaking some ibuprofen before she got out, Brennan padded into the room.

"Morning Bones." Booth said casually. He felt relieved, though slightly shocked at his partners' impeccable timing. If he revealed he was sick, or said he was feeling remotely so, he'd get a lecture and a day-long visit from Doctor Bones. The 'New Brennan' since they were together.

"Booth, how are you feeling?"

Or maybe she used her superpowers to figure it out herself.

Clad in stretchy-jeans and a baby blue maternity top that covered her baby-bump, she walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

He decided to play coy, in case there was a different meaning to her question. "What d'you mean, Bones, I feel fine." Lies, he thought to himself, rather amused.

She jumped right to the point. "Booth, you're sick," she said it like it was a fact he ought to know, but didn't.

He sighed, another plan yet again failed. Five seconds. Must be some kind of record. "How did you know?"

"You were running a high fever all night; sweating through the comforter. Why do you think you're only under a sheet?"

She was right. He hadn't even noticed. Now that he looked around the bed, the blanket was pulled off of him and most of it was on her side, leaving him generously covered with the sheet. "Well I'll be damned," Booth remarked before laying his head back on the pillow, a hand to his eyes that were irritated form the light again.

"Move your hand," He didn't, and the end result was his hand being moved for him. Her hand was cool to the touch on his forehead, a little too cool. How high a fever was he running?

"Ah, Bones," he grabbed her wrist. "that hurts."

"I'm only checking your temperature. Would you prefer a thermometer?" She looked at him, worry on her face.

"No, no sorry." He shook his head, more out of the throbbing in his eyes than anything else.

Her hand was back on his head, but only briefly. Then there was a rattling next to his head that sounded, as the sound is unmistakable to almost anyone, like a bottle of pills being opened. He looked over to the nightstand to find her placing two ibuprofen pills in her hand, a glass of water next to the lamp. He was amazed.

"How did you do that?"

Brennan set the bottle down. "Do what?"

"Get the water and pills without leaving the room." He pointed at the objects.

She looked at him incredulously as she held up the items. "Can you sit up?"

Booth nodded and forced his upper body into a sitting position, leaning on the headboard.

"I didn't have to leave the room," she continued. "I put them there before I went in the shower in case you woke up. Didn't you see them?"

He laughed, in no way humorous.

"What?" He downed the pills and she took the water back from him. He lay down on his back and she put a hand on his chest.

"Nothing it's just, before you came out I was going to sneak into the kitchen and take care of it so you wouldn't know I was feeling so terrible." He quirked a small smile, gesturing towards the nightstand. "I didn't even look around before attempting it."

"That bad?" She said, sympathy and worry written on her features. He nodded. "You are sick. You are not going to work today." She said defiantly, getting off the bed.

He made to go after her, but it was like there were eyes in the back of her head.

"Don't get out of that bed, Booth. I've already called the Bureau."

"What!? Bones, why would you do that?" Unable to contain the hurt anymore, he rubbed his eyes and face furiously. There was silence and although he couldn't see her, he imagined her standing in the doorway, thinking.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was darker, dimmer; the blinds drawn almost completely closed. His eyes trailed Brennan as she walked over to the nightstand on her side and removed her phone from its charger. She sat on her messy half, her back to him as she tapped away at the screen.

There was a few minutes of him and his headache in the quiet. Just as he was about to close his eyes, feeling drowsy, her phone rang.

"Sorry, Booth," Brennan said. She picked it up "Hello?" Talking on the other end, then, "Yes, Ange. He's sick. He's not throwing up, it might just be a cold." More talking. "Of course I know that. He-" She looked back at him as she was cut off, shrugging an apology to him. At his glazed expression, she mouthed the word, "What?"

He shook his head.

She adjusted her position on the bed, switched the phone to a different shoulder and placed a hand on his head once again. "I just- I feel responsible, Ange." Another short pause, maybe a remark. Brennan offered her friend on the other line a small smile. "Could be the hormones." She wouldn't have her friend talk to her for much longer. "Angela, Booth has a fever. I'll talk to you later."

She pressed a button then looked down at her partner. She sighed. "I swear Booth, I only texted her, then she was calling me."

"Mm, it's fine."

She gave him a genuine smile, before sliding off the bed. Before she could stand up completely, he caught her wrist.

"You don't have to stay home, Bones. I'm an adult you know."

She looked down at him, lying there in the sheets, looking for all the world like he could use some sleep. She squeezed his hand. "That's exactly what Angela said. I told her it was the hormones making me want to stay."

"And?" He pressed, his charm smile being swallowed by his sleepy-state.

"I dunno. I love you, I guess." She shrugged. "It won't kill us to not go in to work for one day. No murders."

"Mm, thanks for staying home, Bones."

"You're welcome." She gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before moving off the bed, catching her balance, and closing the door quietly while her partner slept.

Now you look me in the eye and tell me the sound of a pill bottle being picked up or opened isn't one of the most recognizable sounds there is.

Part two coming later today, I promise!