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I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooo

In the kitchen, Booth nursed a glass of water as he stared at the clock. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he glared as the minute hand slowly creaked around the face.

"Hey, I got up to get a drink of water." Sleepily rubbing the top of his head, Max entered the kitchen and walked over to the sink. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet above, he poured some water in the glass. After he took a sip, he turned and studied his son-in-law. "Couldn't sleep?"

Lifting his glass to his lips, Booth drank the water until his glass was empty. Not really up for company, he placed the glass on the table. "I was thirsty too."

Not sure if he should say anything, Max decided to see if Booth needed or wanted his help and sat down across from him. "I heard some yelling earlier."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth glanced at the clock. Annoyed to see the minute hand had barely moved on it's journey, he sighed. "Thin walls, probably the neighbors. It's one of the things I'm going to like about living in a house. We won't have to put up with loud parties and assholes who think it's okay to play their music as loud as they can at one in the morning."

"Yeah, that can be a problem." Max glanced at the clock after he sipped more of his water. "Do you know where you want to look for a house?"

Grabbing up his crutches, Booth stood up and carried his glass over to the sink. His mission accomplished, he turned carefully and leaned on his crutches. "Nope. Bones and I came up with a list of things we want to make sure of before we move into an area likes good schools and decent roads."

Max stood upp, finished his drink and walked over to the sink where he deposited his empty glass. "Does that mean that you and Tempe want to have kids?"

Moving over to the doorway, Booth paused. "Sure . . . some day."

Satisfied with that answer, Max smiled. "It would be nice to be a grandfather. I mean, Russ's daughters are nice, but they're his step kids. I'd like to have a grandchild from one of my kids. You and Tempe would make pretty cute kids."

Rolling his eyes, Booth walked into the living room. "Bones' kids will be beautiful . . . that's a fact." Moving across the living room, Booth turned to look back at Max. "You know if you want to you can go home. I can get Lester to take me to work and bring me back. Bones doesn't need to know that you weren't here."

He knew Booth wanted to be alone, but he'd made a promise to his daughter and he was going to keep it. Shaking his head, Max followed the younger man into the living room. "Eh, I'm here, I might as well stay."

"Up to you." Entering his bedroom, Booth closed the door behind him.

Watching Booth enter the bedroom, Max shook his head and muttered, "Noisy neighbors my ass."

Oooooooooooooo

His day had been filled with aggravation. First someone reported a theft from the World War II display only to find out after his security department spent hours going over recorded footage from the room, that the object in question had been borrowed by Hodgins. Furious, Booth reminded the scientist that he needed to make sure it was okay to borrow things from exhibits and to let whoever is in control of said exhibits that he had their 'whatsit'. Contrite, Hodgins agreed to follow procedures.

Just to cap off his afternoon, two women marched into an exhibit room holding a couple of priceless Monet's and claimed that one of the paintings was stolen from their family during the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. Some Russian soldiers had looted the ladies family's house and walked away with three valuable paintings. The fact that the Jeffersonian had borrowed the painting from another museum meant nothing to them. They demanded their painting back and wanted the Jeffersonian to hand it over immediately. It had taken all afternoon with the involvement of the legal department to straighten that out and Booth was in a foul mood when he arrived home.

Entering the apartment behind Booth, Max watched his son-in-law enter his bedroom and slam the door behind him.

Filled with anger, Booth sat on the bed, threw his crutches down on the floor and laid down. Glaring at the ceiling, he thought about why he had agreed to work at the Jeffersonian and whether or not it was worth it. His phone ringing, Booth grabbed it and barked, "What the hell do you want?"

"Is everything okay?"

His cheeks turning a rosy color, Booth sat up. "Bones, I'm sorry. I just had a bad day. I didn't mean to answer the phone like that."

Worried about her husband, Brennan felt her heart begin to race. "Are you alright? You're not having any physical problems are you?"

"No, Bones. Really, I'm fine. My day was just filled with stupid crap that's all . . . Hey, how's it going? Did you discover anything cool?"

"I'm sorry your day was unpleasant. My day was rather interesting. We found an old cistern where we are excavating and it looks like it might contain some very interesting artifacts. When the Acadians were forced to leave the area, they tried to hide what valuable property that they couldn't take with them to keep the British from claiming it. I'm really looking forward to seeing what's buried there."

"Wow, that does sound cool, Bones . . . I'm glad you're having fun. That's important."

"It is rather fun . . . What happened at work? Why was your day bad?"

Rubbing his forehead, Booth cleared his throat. "Oh, it was just some nonsense, don't worry about it. Just the usual stupidity. You've heard me complain about it before. Tell me more about your day. I really want to know what you did."

Booth relaxed as he listened to her talk. Her voice soothing to him, he leaned against the head board. Soon he forgot his aggravation and enjoyed her enthusiastic tale of how they'd discovered the cistern and what they did afterwards. He loved that she was enjoying herself and having good results.

Realizing that she'd finished talking, Booth responded, "That's really interesting, Bones. Really great. I can't wait to see the pictures you bring back."

"I am recording all of our finds. I will make sure you get a copy so you can see what I've been talking about."

"Thanks. I really do want to see that stuff . . . I love you, Bones. I miss you, but I'm happy that you're getting to be in on something this cool."

"I love you too, Booth. I really wish you were here with me."

Booth stared at a picture he had of them on the dresser. "Yeah, me too, but that's okay. You can call me every day and tell me about it . . . I love talking to you, Bones. You make me . . . I love you."

Clearing her throat, Brennan chimed in, "I love talking to you too."

His leg starting to hurt him, Booth propped his right leg onto a pillow. "So did that magazine guy show up?" Listening to her talk about her interview, Booth closed his eyes and enjoyed listening to her. Once she had told him about her encounter with the reporter, he opened his eyes and scowled. "What the hell do you mean that the magazine guy flirted with you?"

"It's harmless, Booth. You know I'm not interested in anyone but you. I just thought you would find it amusing since he obviously thinks his charm would influence me. He's ten years younger than me. I could never be interested in someone that young and shallow."

Not amused at all, Booth growled. "If I was up there I'd . . . You told him you're married didn't you?"

"Of course, and he continued to flirt anyway. I finally told him I'm not interested since I'm sexually and emotionally satisfied with you and I won't jeopardize my relationship with you."

Slightly mollified, Booth grumbled. "Some people have no respect. If that son-of-a-bitch comes on to you again I hope you knock some shit out of him, the sorry bastard."

"I don't think that will be necessary. I witnessed him flirting with one of Aaron's interns later this afternoon. I believe he was trolling . . . Is that right, trolling?"

"Yeah, he's trolling. You said it right . . . Uh, yeah. Okay. So, you're doing okay, that's good. Hey don't forget to call me tomorrow. I don't care how late it is either. I love talking to you."

"I will Booth. I love you."

"You know I love you, Bones."

Oooooooooooo

Entering the living room, Booth heard Max working in the kitchen. Carefully moving into that room, Booth asked him, "What are you doing?"

While he continued to chop his vegetables, Max glanced quickly at Booth then back at his knife. "I'm going to make stir-fry. I don't know if you're hungry, but I'm starving."

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Booth leaned his crutches against the wall. "Want me to help?"

Max stopped and waved his knife around. "Nah, it's a one man job . . . Did you talk to Tempe today?"

His thoughts on his wife, Booth smiled and clasped his hands on the table. "Yeah, she's having a blast." A scowl crossing his face, Booth complained, "Some jerk was hitting on her today."

Curious, Max looked intently at his son-in-law. "How'd she handle?"

"She told him she wasn't interested." Staring at the clock on the wall, Booth frowned. "She's a beautiful woman. It's a miracle more guys don't hit on her. If I was up there, I'd have knocked that guy on his ass."

Placing his vegetables in the hot wok behind him, Max snickered. "Then it's lucky for that guy you're here and not up there."

Ooooooooooooooo

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