Part Two! Then two more after this that are also back to back.

Disclaimer: "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it." . . .Oh you have no idea, Beyonce.

Sick! Part Two

Takes place nine weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"So I was talking to Angela," Brennan said as Booth dressed from his shower. "She thinks that when you're feeling better we should all go out somewhere."

"Go out?" He pulled a shirt over his head, only to turn and look at her with shock on his face. He had been feeling worse since earlier that morning, the fact that he was sick became more prominent with coughs and a sore throat. The cough came after he'd woken for the second time at around noon, his headache remained (as did his fever), and if he moved certain limbs, it felt like he'd twisted them the wrong way the day before. But it all subsides somewhat as he'd felt the hot water touch his skin. Funny how showers did that. "What's with her and 'going out' lately?"

"Well we're her friends. And I must say that I agree with her sudden realization that life has gotten away from us all the last few years, especially since she realized two new additions will be made to the group." Brennan said, continuing to flip through the book she was reading. "She realized we all don't 'hang out' many places together. Besides the Diner, of course."

He nodded, occupied with looking at the back of his throat in the mirror best he could. Satisfied it didn't look worse, he rubbed it, turning out the light.

She made a side glance at him. "You probably want to take that off, unless you want to sweat through it tonight."

He held a bit of it in his hand. "You think so?"

"Booth." She chided. "You've had a fever all day. Despite your beliefs about showers it won't kill that quality of being sick. A fever's a fever and it won't break until your body has fought off whatever's making you ill."

"But it's a shirt." Even as he complained he removed it, not really in the mood for a spat over something as simple as an article of clothing. He was so tired, despite having slept all day.

Brennan gave him her full attention for the first time since he went into the bathroom. Setting down her book, she sighed. "I suppose I should ask earnestly how you are feeling."

"No better than twenty minutes ago."

She felt a pang on sympathy for her partner, something she'd been feeling off and on all day. The way he replied struck something in her that she couldn't exactly identify further, though. "Really?" She figured she'd let her brain take a break and approach his side of belief. "Your superstition about the shower-"

"Was wrong, completely wrong." He laid down next to her, pulling the sheet over himself. A cough escaped him and Brennan winced at the grinding sound it made.

She subconsciously laid a hand over her stomach; the little bulge underneath the fabric of her shirt somehow grounding herself into keeping random tears (hormones, she suspected) at bay. He didn't like being sick, part of the stubbornness in him as well as the nagging feeling that he'd had to miss work, even though it was reasonable because he had a fever.

All day she took care of him, making food, supplying liquids, checking his fever. Doing things that weren't really necessary for a grown man to have provided for him, for he could clearly do things himself, but it was the mother in her coming out. Angela had said so herself when they'd spoken earlier. Every time she asked how he was feeling, he answered bitterly or with sarcasm. There was a sneaking thought in the back of her head that wondered if she could be the cause. Maybe he was accepting her help to be nice; he didn't want to usher her away. Was he still angry about her calling him in sick?

Logically, Brennan knew none of what she was thinking could be true. But emotionally she felt there could be some truth behind them. Damn hormones.

At his partners' sudden silence he looked up at her, finding her looking blankly at her feet. Her hand on her stomach didn't escape him. He sat up and laid a hand over hers, startling her.

"You okay, Bones?"

She looked at him, meeting his eyes and forming an automatic smile. Silently she removed her hand from under his and placed it on top. "Yes. Just tired." She lied.

He smiled back and they had a 'moment'. One of the things that had been there since the beginning of their partnership, if not soon after. A long look in the others' eyes; gazing, thinking, comprehending. Enjoying the familiar company of the other so near. How many times, Brennan wondered, had she looked at him this exact way, not knowing her growing affections for him? Not realizing the way in which she effortlessly returned his gaze; mirroring the expression he showed her? And how many times had he done the same? Why was it so easy to just stop a conversation and, well, forget? Thinking of nothing except the now, the exact moment they were in.

She quirked a different smile this time, ending their trance. Coming up close she put a hand on his forehead, an automatic thing since she'd been doing it all day.

"What's the temp, Doc?" Booth asked.

"Still hot. I can't discern significant increase or decrease, but you are still very warm." She said in her usual factual tone.

"Yeah, figures," he leaned across her to turn off the lamp, then did the same on his side. "I don't discern an increase or decrease in how I feel, either, so it makes sense." He added. She crawled under the covers, laying apart from him as usual, Booth facing her and Brennan on her back.

They lay in companionable silence for a time, Brennan eventually closing her eyes.

"Oh," Booth said suddenly, leaning up and over her torso, effectively opening her eyes. "Almost forgot." He hovered over her and kissed her shirt-covered stomach, rubbing the growing bump with his thumb. "Night, kiddo."

Brennan covered her enormous smile with her hand, looking up at the ceiling and trying to avoid laughing at him. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh am I?" He kissed her belly again, not really having a good come back for that.

"Yes, you are." Her smile remained as he came to lean over her, his eyes directly above hers. "Even though you're sick, you're still humorous."

"And I made you feel better." He shifted, mindful to not actually put a lot of weight on her stomach and choosing instead to lean over her sideways.

Her smile faded and she moved her hand to his upper arm. Damn. He knew she was upset. "Yes."

"Don't take my bitterness to heart, okay?" He turned his head to cough to the side and looked at her again. "I'm not mad at your beautiful face." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"What are you doing?" She asked, closing her eyes as he moved from her cheek to her temple, across her forehead and down the other cheek and over her nose, kissing lightly everywhere he went.

"You won't let me actually kiss you so." He murmured.

"Isn't this just as bad?" She murmured back as he double-kissed her temple.

"I dunno, you're the Doc," she heard the calm in his voice and guessed he was still trying to reassure her that he wasn't mad. "You tell me."

She didn't reply. Just enjoyed feeling him roam to every inch of her face he could reach, ending each random pattern with a kiss to each closed eye.

"Stop," She started to chuckle. It was slow and thick with the drowsiness she now felt. "You're making me sleepy."

"Mission accomplished." Booth murmured, placing a final kiss between her eyebrows. Officially too tired to open her eyes, she rolled over. He pulled her close to him, knowing that she might wake up at some point during the night and have to remove herself from his hold. He lay his head on the pillow they now both shared and kissed the back of her neck. "Night Bones."

She responded, placing her hand over his on her stomach and stroking it until she fell asleep.

Sorry if you guys don't peg Brennan as a 'hand-on-baby-bump-for-comfort-and-reassurance' kind of gal. Cute though, eh?

And just for you, I changed the ending to this one because the previous ending was just not satisfactory. This ending was a lot fluffier and flowed better! And AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH wasn't that for the better!? I had such feels writing this one. /HELP/