Thank you so much for your reviews and for everyone who is reading this! Here's the next chapter . . . :)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"It's good to be home," Brennan sighed, leaving her suitcase by the door and flopping on Booth's couch.
"Home?" Booth repeated, happily surprised.
"B-By home, I-I simply meant in Washington, D.C. – of course, the actual habitat that I use as my dwelling is my own apartment – not this one that we are in at the moment -" she nervously rambled.
"Bones . . . hey, it's okay. I'm glad you think of this place as your home," he assured her. "It means you're comfortable here . . . comfortable enough with me to leave your makeup all over the bathroom counter and your latest anthropology books on the nightstand . . . your favorite food in the kitchen . . . take up over half my closet . . ."
"I'm not being too presumptuous?" she worried.
"Not even close. C'mon, we talked about this before, right?" he said.
"Actually, it was only a passing conversation stemming from Parker's inquiries of our residential status. We have never officially discussed the issue," Brennan corrected him.
"Well, now we're discussing it. And I say, move in with me – officially," Booth proposed.
"I don't know . . . I'll have to think about it . . ." she teased.
"Ah . . . another joke . . . That's good, Bones . . ." he chuckled, pulling her close.
"I can think of one person who will be disappointed though," Brennan thought.
"Who?" Booth wondered.
"Parker – he'll lose the pool," she explained. "Perhaps you should move in with me – it is a larger space, after all, and Parker would have his own room when he stayed?"
"I don't know, Bones. I was kinda thinkin' we'd get a place of our own eventually, anyway. It'd be a lot to introduce a kid to two different environments in the span of a few months," he objected.
"Perhaps you're right – a few months?" she stopped.
"Yeah, I mean, we can't live in this space forever and it'll take a while to find somethin' we both agree on, so I figure in about six or seven months we could think about moving," Booth shrugged. "Plus, my lease'll be up by then."
"I suppose that's reasonable . . ." she agreed. "However, perhaps I should still rent my apartment until that time – your apartment does not provide enough room for all of our furniture and belongings combined. But I would still cohabitate with you here, of course."
"Sounds good to me, Bones," he told her.
"Does this mean we are telling everyone about our relationship?" Brennan asked. "Because they will start to question why we're coming in to work together and why I'm never at my apartment."
Booth absently stroked her hair as he contemplated.
"I'd give it another week or so just to be safe, but yeah, they'll start getting suspicious after a while," he agreed. "Are you feeling any better? I heard you in the bathroom before we left this morning. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"
"I'm fine, Booth. It must have been a residual effect of the previous nausea," Brennan assured him.
"Okay, but maybe you should see a doctor, just in case?" he suggested.
"I know my own body, Booth," she insisted.
"Okay, Bones. But it won't stop me from worrying about you – that won't ever change," he maintained.
"I will admit that it's nice to have someone care about you so much," she smiled and pressed her lips to his. "But that doesn't mean I want you to constantly hover over me the second you hear me cough or sneeze. I can take of myself – I've been doing it for multiple years."
"All I'm sayin' is that if you keep having these symptoms, you need to see a doctor. You could have food poisoning . . . or the flu . . . or some sorta other virus," he told her.
"I'm sure it was just a side effect, Booth. But if my digestive system is still irregular at the end of the week, I will see a doctor," she bargained.
"Thank you," Booth said, squeezing her shoulder. "I'd better call Rebecca and see if I still have Parker this coming weekend."
"If you do, perhaps we could all go to the Air & Space Museum?" she suggested. "Parker had mentioned to me that his class had been studying the Apollo 13 mission and he seemed very excited about it."
"That's a great idea, Bones," Booth smiled. "You really like him, don't you?"
"Of course – why wouldn't I? Parker is an exceptional child and I enjoy spending time with him," Brennan replied.
"I'm glad . . . I only brought it up 'cause it's, uh . . . it's really important to me that the person I'm with genuinely likes my son . . . I don't want things to get too serious with someone and then find out they only pretended to like him because of me," he admitted. "But I know that's not true with you. You're amazing with him . . . so natural . . . and I love you for that."
Brennan smiled, shyly.
"You will never have to question my sincerity when it comes to your child, Booth," she promised. "You once told me that nothing trumps family, and I agree. Family is very important . . . And Parker is your family, therefore he is important to me as well . . . Regardless of the status of our relationship, I have always been very fond of Parker . . . I only hope that he truly feels the same of me."
"He does, Bones. His eyes always light up when I mention your name. And you saw the way he hugged you the last time – I couldn't have asked for a better moment," he said, kissing her temple and holding her close, blinking back a few tears from his eyes. He couldn't imagine his life without this incredible woman in it.
"Are you okay?" Brennan worried, noticing he was holding her longer than usual.
He pulled back and gathered his composure.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he assured her by affectionately rubbing her leg then got up from the couch. "I'm gonna go make that call."
"I told Ang we'd meet her and Hodgins for dinner here at six. I need to pick up groceries as well as some more ink for your printer, since I used it all. Do you need anything while I'm gone?" Brennan asked, grabbing her purse.
"More brown sugar and oatmeal, Doritos – you know those taco-flavored ones I like - and the decent kinda beer – not your weird Mongolian crap. There's a game on tonight. I thought Hodgins and I'd watch it after dinner while you girls gossip or whatever," Booth replied, handing her his list.
"We talk like civilized people, Booth. And women have been conversing in intimate settings for centuries," Brennan argued.
"You talk about us," he playfully countered.
"Yes, the men in our lives are usually discussed at some point in our conversations. However, I wouldn't get so egotistical about it – there are other important issues to address," she teased. "Okay. Chips, beer, oatmeal, and brown sugar. I'll be back."
"Hey, Bones? Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.
"I've got my purse, phone, and keys? What else would I be forgetting?" she innocently wondered.
"This . . ." Booth replied, enveloping her lips until he sensed her going limp from pleasure.
"Mmm . . . I will never forget that again," she laughed and chastely kissed his lips once more before leaving.
He couldn't wait for her to get back.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Booth . . .?" Brennan called a few hours later.
"Yeah, Bones?" he answered, coming into the kitchen. "Want me to help you unload the groceries?"
"Only your oatmeal," she said. "The rest is going to my apartment."
"Your apartment? I thought we were having dinner here?" he asked, curiously.
"I ran into my dad," she explained. "Literally – in the cereal aisle."
"Your dad?" he said.
"Yes. Why do you keep repeating everything I'm saying?" she complained.
Booth shrugged, knowing the explanation would be lost on her.
"He was very adamant about spending time with me and getting to know my friends," she said.
"Okay . . . but it's not like I don't have a kitchen and a table here?" he pointed out, oblivious.
"Booth, my father can be very observant – especially when half of my personal belongings are in your apartment," she explained in frustration.
"You got a point . . ." Booth agreed. "Why don't we just tell him? It's not like my family doesn't already know – well, except for Pops. I thought we'd make a special trip to the nursing home and tell him together."
"Yes, I would like that. But as for my father, he works for the Jeffersonian and has difficulty restraining himself from telling anyone he sees about my accomplishments – personal ones included," Brennan replied.
Booth silently marveled at Brennan thinking her relationship with him was a personal accomplishment.
"C'mon, Bones. Max knows how to keep a secret – how do you think he's survived this long?" he argued.
"That is true, however those secrets were a matter of life and death . . . or imprisonment . . ." she countered.
"I guess you're right. C'mon, let's go," he said, putting on his shoes, then grabbing the two grocery bags.
"I didn't want to have anyone in my apartment so soon. It hasn't been cleaned in over a month," she sighed as they walked to his SUV. "But I didn't see any other solution."
"Don't worry about it, Bones. You fix dinner and I'll clean up the place, okay?" Booth offered.
"Thank you. I'm sorry it turned out this way. I knew you were looking forward to some normal socialization where we were free to be ourselves," Brennan apologized.
"It's okay - these things happen. And we'll let everyone know soon enough. Just think of it as more time without your father sticking his nose in our personal business," he joked.
"I'm sure he will have some views on our relationship . . . he already does, actually," she mused.
"Exactly. And now four people can have fun messin' with him, right?" he smiled, mischievously.
Brennan shook her head in amusement.
"You and my father have a very strange rivalry," she remarked.
"Yeah, well we both have very different views on where to draw the line when it comes to the law. But we have at least one thing in common," he smiled and grabbed her hand at the stoplight before her apartment.
Brennan squeezed his hand back and they were contentedly silent while pulling in the parking area.
"Just so we are on the same page, as you say, no flirting, fondling or anything that could possibly make Dad suspicious," she went over their protocol for the evening as they walked to her building.
"I'm gonna have a big issue with that second one," he grinned, devilishly and grabbed her ass.
Brennan smacked his hand away.
"Booth! We aren't in New York anymore – someone could see us!" she berated him.
"Sorry, babe. I'll keep my hands to myself as soon as your dad gets here, but until then I can't be held responsible for what they do," he teased.
"Then get inside!" she giggled, hurriedly pulling him up the steps and in the door of her building.
Once in the elevator, a playful kiss between them became heated and when the doors opened on her floor, her neighbor across the hall got an eye-full before they realized where they were.
Booth awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Sorry, Mrs. Bransky," he apologized; feeling like the principal had caught them in the janitor's closet.
Brennan blushed.
"Yes, this was very inappropriate behavior, and I promise it will not happen again," she vowed as she nervously opened her door.
"It's quite alright, dears. I was beginning to think something had happened to you, Temperance. I'm glad you were only engaging in a heated affair with this strapping young G-man of yours," the elderly woman replied. "I suppose fate finally decided to smile on you two?"
They both smiled politely and entered Brennan's apartment. Booth slammed the door and feverishly devoured her lips, pushing her towards her bedroom.
"Wait – Booth, I . . . I have to fix dinner . . . and . . . mmmm . . . And clean the apartment . . . mmmm . . ." Brennan half-heartedly protested between kisses.
"We've still got – what?" he glanced at his watch. "An hour and a half before everyone shows up, right? That's plenty of time."
"But, Booth, my apartment is in a complete state of disarray and it takes more than thirty minutes to make this meal considering I create the sauce from scratch – the food – it's still in the car! Why didn't you bring it in?" she scolded.
"Me? Hey, I was a little distracted by you and your guidelines for tonight," he excused. "And I don't remember you rushing to get it either."
"I . . . I suppose you aren't the only one to blame," she conceded, begrudgingly.
"How about I go get the food . . . we put it away . . . come back in here and if we run out of time, we'll just order takeout?" he suggested.
"But I promised Angela a home-cooked meal. She's been craving one for a while now, and feels too exhausted from her pregnancy to make one herself," Brennan hesitated.
Booth attempted to persuade her by seductively pressing his lips to hers.
"Then let's not waste any more time," he grinned boyishly and ran out of the apartment.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Booth and Brennan lay in her bed, oblivious to how much time had passed. The door buzzer rang and they both jumped up in a panic.
"What time is it?" Brennan asked.
"5:45PM," Booth said, glancing at the clock.
"They're fifteen minutes early!" she exclaimed, throwing on her clothes.
"Do you honestly think we can clean this place up and fix a meal in fifteen minutes, Bones?" he asked, skeptically, finding his pants.
"No, but it would have given us a little more time to prepare – I thought you said we still had forty-five minutes?" she accused.
"Yeah, well, I was wrong, okay? Next time – less talkin', more doin' and we might get it right," he replied, irritated. He couldn't believe she was placing all the blame on him.
"I thought we were very accurate," she smiled, slyly.
Booth grinned. It was impossible to stay mad at her for long.
"We were, Bones – definitely record-breaking," he agreed and leaned in to kiss her when they heard the buzzer again. "Damn. We'll finish this later."
"I agree. But right now, we need to answer the door," she giggled, playfully pushing him out of her room. "Remember – act normal."
"You don't have to remind me, Bones. Just open the door," Booth grumbled.
Brennan gave him a look and opened it.
"Angela, Hodgins! Come in!" Brennan greeted them.
"What took you guys so long?" Angela asked, as they walked in the apartment.
"Do you really have to ask?" Hodgins smirked. "Just look at the uncontrollable smile on Dr. B's face."
"Ooohhhh . . ." Angela understood. "I miss those days . . ."
"Yeah, me, too. Angie used to not be able to keep her hands off me - now she freaks out if I dare to touch her," Hodgins replied.
"Being almost forty weeks pregnant will do that to ya," Angela excused and smoothed Brennan's disheveled hair, then looked at Booth. "Sweetie, I think you need to go change your shirt."
"Why?" Booth asked.
"Because it's super wrinkled and on backwards," she replied.
"Bones, do I have another shirt here?" he asked.
"Top dresser drawer," Brennan told him.
"Thanks, babe," he kissed her cheek and ran to change.
Brennan's face reddened in embarrassment.
"Look at you two . . . finally gettin' together. Congrats, Dr. B!" Hodgins grinned.
She began to open her mouth when her father appeared at the door.
"I hear congratulations are in order? What wonderful accomplishment has my daughter achieved this time?" Max asked, eagerly.
Booth walked in the room again.
"Uh . . . Dr. Brennan just discovered a new . . . hobby! Yeah, it's really enjoyable for her!" Hodgins covered, tongue in cheek.
"Yeah – totally life-changing!" Angela chimed in, happily watching her two friends squirm.
"Really? What is it?" he asked, curiously.
Brennan struggled for a reply.
"Y-Yoga," she said. "It helps to relax your muscles and your mind."
"Honey, you look a little stressed?" Max observed his daughter's flush complexion. "Isn't yoga supposed to help relieve tension?"
"I-I'm fine, Dad. I was just cleaning," she excused.
Max swept his finger across the hall table and held it up.
"Exactly how dirty was your apartment before?" he questioned.
"Dad . . .!" Brennan protested.
Booth decided it was time to step in and rescue her.
"Bones and I have been working a lot of complicated cases lately. I'm sure she hasn't really felt like cleaning when she finally has the time, Max," he defended.
"It's true. I . . . have been extremely busy lately," she said. "Speaking of which, I need to start dinner. Why don't you and Hodgins and Booth watch sports while Ang helps me?"
"Whatever you say, Tempe," Max smiled, disbelievingly, yet followed the other two men to the couch. "So she finally broke down and got a bigger TV, huh? I take it this was your influence, Booth?"
"Yeah, well, you know Bones. She doesn't understand the significance of sports and entertainment like we do. But I told her if she wanted to keep watchin' 'The Jersey Shore' without gettin' a migraine, she'd better spring for at least a 32"," Booth replied.
"Tempe watches 'The Jersey Shore'?" Max questioned.
"Dr. B thought it was a documentary to begin with," Hodgins snickered.
"Now she's hooked. It's pretty hilarious," Booth chuckled.
"You kids spend a lot of time together . . . but I'm glad Tempe has so many good friends. So Booth – you seeing anyone right now?" Max asked.
"And that's where Bones get her directness from – you just cut right to the chase, don't ya there, Max?" Booth chuckled.
"It's a legitimate question. I was only making small-talk – no need to arrest me," Max claimed.
"Yeah, well it seemed like you were tryin' to play matchmaker with me. And believe me, I don't need any help in that department!" Booth scoffed.
"Booth's right – he's definitely got an eye for the ladies – one -" Hodgins began.
"One day I'll find the right one," Booth glared at him.
"And maybe he already has," Hodgins continued.
Booth jabbed him – he was gonna kill that little creep . . .
"Or maybe she's still out there somewhere," Booth added.
"Or she could be right under your nose," Hodgins smirked.
"Or across the country," Booth countered.
"Or in this apartment," Hodgins shot back.
"The first course is ready!" Brennan called from the kitchen, setting out the salad and bruschetta.
Thank god Bones interrupted them. Booth allowed Max to head to the table first and pulled Hodgins to the side.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "I thought the four of us were friends?"
"We are . . . I just thought I'd have a little fun for a change . . ." Hodgins shrugged.
"Listen, Bugsy, this is our job you're screwin' with. If Max finds out too soon and lets it leak, Dr. Brennan and I might get split up as partners. And that means ya have Bones to deal with – and believe me, buddy, she's the last person ya want pissed at ya. So can the crap and play along – got it?" Booth threatened.
"Clearer than the secretion of a planococcus citri," Hodgins sweated.
Booth wrinkled his brow in confusion.
"Whatever. Now get in there and act normal – or as normal as you squints get . . ." Booth gave him a gentle shove.
"You know, I could also take the name 'Bugsy' as a compliment," Hodgins replied. "Warren Beatty . . ."
"Just get in there!" Booth grumbled. Starting the next day, he and Bones needed to get new friends . . .