A/N: I know there are a lot of these "missing moments" stories out there, and I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you taking the time to review, favorite, and put this on alert. Your feedback is enormously helpful!

Also, I realize that many of the MM fics assume that Booth and Brennan made love on the night of Vincent's death. Given what they showed us in the last two episodes, that's certainly a possibility. However, I don't think B&B—and Booth in particular—would have wanted to take that step when both of them were in such a precarious emotional state. So, at least in this fic, the big event is still to come! :)

Chapter Three: Confessions

"Honey—no! Not right now. I'm sorry—I love you—but...go tell Cam. Go! Away! AWAY!"

Brennan knew that it was common for women in the advanced stages of pregnancy to become more assertive; it was equally common for their mates to adopt a more placating stance than they otherwise would, under the misapprehension that emotional stress could bring on labor.

Nonetheless, she was surprised at Hodgins' quick retreat from the bone room.

Surprised...and a little chagrined. Angela had clearly sent him away on the assumption that she was going to hear something revelatory. But what, exactly, did Brennan have to tell her?

"Bren!" Ange called sharply.

"Yes?"

Angela made a noise that, most likely, signified frustration. She walked around the examining table, gripping Brennan by the arm.

"What. Happened? Did you two—"

"No, Ange. We didn't have intercourse." Perhaps a mea culpa was in order, for raising her friend's expectations. "I'm sorry."

Angela shook her head; clearly she was not following the thread of the conversation. "Sorry? Sorry for what?" Her eyes widened. "Oh! You mean—you regret it—you wish you'd jumped his bones!" Clapping a hand over her grinning mouth, she looked down ruefully at Leishenger's deconstructed skeleton.

Brennan placed his skull back on the table and rubbed her forearm over her eyes, wondering why she had given in to the spontaneous urge to discuss last night. "No! That's not what I—" She cut herself off. Did she regret it? Did she wish they'd crossed that line? No...well, perhaps, a little. Probably not.

Suddenly aware that Angela's foot was tapping impatiently, she continued. "I meant, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I know you have been hoping for Booth and I to...extend our relationship into a sexual realm—"

"Not just that, but, OK, yeah...we all have." She waved her hand vaguely, encompassing the whole lab. "But why would you think I'd be disappointed in you? Unless—wait—you didn't turn him down, did you?" Her voice was unmistakably accusing.

"I...I wasn't the one who stopped it, no," Brennan admitted.

Now Angela looked disappointed—devastated, in fact. "Oh, sweetie...did he turn you down?"

Brennan thought of that moment when she and Booth had looked at each other, hearts racing. There hadn't been a lack of desire, in either of them. What was behind that desire (what it "meant," as Sweets might say) was open to question.

"It wasn't like that, Ange. We just—stopped...mutually. I think."

"So what happens next?" pressed Angela.

"Next?"

"Yeah, next—now that you've been in his bed, Bren. Don't tell me you don't want to go back there!"

The heat rose in Brennan's cheeks and she nearly—but not quite—giggled. Get a hold of yourself, Dr. Brennan. You've never acted like a lovesick schoolgirl, and now is not the time to start. Standing up straight, she declared, "Booth and I have decided to put any physical relationship on hold until after the Broadsky situation is dealt with."

Angela nodded solemnly, but her eyes twinkled. "OK, so we get Broadsky...and then you and Booth get naked!"

"Angela!" Brennan looked behind them, lest someone might have heard, but the corridor was thankfully empty. "We need to get Broadsky for Vincent's sake, not just so Booth and I can—"

"Of course, of course, Bren. We need to do this—for Vincent. Absolutely. Wait—Jack! He had something to tell us—something that might help!" She bolted from the room as fast as her distended torso would allow, calling, "Jack! Honey! HODGINS!"

Brennan found herself hoping Angela tracked him down—soon.

TO BE CONTINUED