It took me forever to write this chapter. Sorry! I have had a bit of writer's block because my mind has been consumed by another thought: meeting David. If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know that I met David back on February 27th. I got to ask him a question about directing and he got really excited about the question and even joked about getting a cup of coffee with me! He is a super nice person, and I somehow love him even more now.

Hope you enjoy this epilogue. It has a different vibe from the prior chapters, but hopefully it's still a good one!

Three months into their relationship, they decided to move in together. It was pointless for them to keep their own respective apartments. They barely spent any nights apart anymore with the typical question being whose bed they should fall asleep in.

Of course, this topic of conversation did not come up without a fit of bickering ("Sweets, don't listen to Booth. We aren't bickering. We're merely having a healthy debate between two adults." "A debate is bickering, Bones.")

Brennan was adamant about Booth moving into her apartment. It was practical and spacious and not on the verge of being flooded again by a set of rusted pipes. Booth retorted back saying she should move into his place. Water pipes aside, it had great historical charm, and he didn't want to part with his bed just yet.

Their argument made its way into work. Sweets tried to have them work in out civilly while Angela started to put together a pool of bets as to who would crack first ($500 that Booth would give in and move into Brennan's versus only $20 that Brennan would move into Booth's place). Everyone was already thrilled by the fact that their favorite FBI agent and forensic anthropologist finally bit the bullet and became the couple people already thought of them to be. It would be only criminal, Angela had said, to not have a little bit fun when it came to their relationship.

A compromise between two of the most stubborn people would ultimately have to be made.

"Hey," Booth said, knocking on Brennan's office door.

"Hey, Booth," Brennan filed away the last bit of paperwork into her bag. "Are we going back to your place tonight?"

"About that…" he started.

She cut him off. "Did you finally come to your senses and decide to move into my place?"

"No." Booth moved closer to her. "I was actually thinking about a third option."

"A third option?"

"How about we get our own place? Not my apartment or your apartment, but our home. Call it a gut feeling, but I don't see us ever breaking up. It would only make sense to get a place together." He watched her intently, waiting for her eyes flare grey with nervousness.

But they didn't. "Are you serious, Booth?" It wasn't criticizing; it was a welcomed surprise, her voice soft. "Our own house?"

"As serious as a heart attack, Bones. I know I don't have much money to contribute to the down payment, but I think we should do it. That is unless you want to keep having 'a healthy debate between two adults' about which apartment to live in." He laughed.

"No, Booth," she paused, "it sounds perfect. I would enjoy purchasing a home with you."

She broke out into a wide smile, and Booth couldn't help but kiss her right in the middle of her office. She dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," she mumbled against his mouth. "Everyone can see us."

"Who cares." He kissed her harder. "We can just remind everyone that they'll never be as lucky as us."

"You sound pretty sure about that, Booth." She giggled.

"I've got all the evidence." His arms tightened around her back.

"Really?" She mused.

"Let's see. We are impossibly in love, are best friends, have a great working relationship, and also have incredible sex. Who wouldn't be jealous?"

"Hmm," she hummed. "I think your logic is correct."

Booth pulled himself back briefly. "I really do love you, Bones. We're going to find the perfect home."

"Our home." She said and kissed him again.

That night, they delved into their house hunt. Brennan was fixated on buying a mansion with the new advancement on her next book while Booth took one look at his bank account and soured. She continuously told him that it would be fine, she could take care of a majority of the payments, but his alpha male tendencies wouldn't allow it. It would be fifty-fifty split down the line.

A month later, they purchased a modest home on the outskirts of the city. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms with the unspoken possibility that their family may grow someday. The house was in moderate disarray, lending itself to multiple vacation days of painting walls and refinishing floors.

Brennan threw on a pair of ragged sweats and one of Booth's old t-shirts while Booth settled for only a pair of basketball shirts as they painted the last wall of their new bedroom. They eventually decided to go for a muted grey-blue ("Maybe we could have an accent wall in the color of the Flyers―" "No, Booth.") after Brennan read multiple studies that certain colors have certain effects on one's sleeping pattern. Blue was supposedly calming.

"What color do you want to do the other rooms?" Booth mused as he dipped his paintbrush into the paint can before applying the soft blue sheen to the wall.

"Probably a beige. All the interior designers on HGTV say it looks best." Brennan said.

"You trust those people?" He laughed.

"Considering they have their own shows and their customers look happy, then yes I do. Why? What color do you want?"

"No, I think you're right. Beige would be easiest." To paint over when we have a nursery, Booth added in his head. After last year's revelation of Brennan wanting to have a baby and even picking Booth to be her sperm donor, he kept the idea of having kids with her wedged at the back of his brain. Now that they were living together, the concept went from possible to plausible, and Booth could only picture babies with his brown hair and her blue eyes. It was a distant thought for the future, but one he loved to entertain nonetheless.

Brennan moved to paint right under where Booth was and knocked into his arm, causing him to accidentally flick his brush and spray droplets onto her head.

"Booth. You should be more careful." She chided as she wiped away a dribble that landed on her forehead.

"You're the one who bumped into me." He retorted.

She reached over and painted a stripe over his right pectoral. "There. Now we're even."

"Even?! I accidentally got five drops onto your head. You did that purposely."

"It's only a blue stripe."

Booth dipped his finger into the can of paint and smeared a bit of blue across her cheek. She let out a noise of surprise, and he smirked right back. Her surprise quickly resolved into competitiveness, her paintbrush finding his chest again and leaving more than just a stripe. An all out war broke out between the couple as they laughed through ruined clothes and blue tinted skin.

"We're wasting all of this paint." She flicked a drop of paint away before it got onto Booth's lips.

"Who cares?" He was beaming. "This is fun."

Booth stripped Brennan of her shirt and left more streaks against her pale skin. His lips landed onto hers, forgetting about their unfinished wall and unpainted rooms.

"We should probably get cleaned up," she said, her hands resting on his abdomen.

"First one to the shower wins?" His eyebrows arched.

She pushed him back and raced downstairs to their finished bathroom (the en suite was still under wraps). He trailed behind, already knowing she had won. But he didn't mind.

Years ago, if anyone told him he was going to having a paint war with his partner turned best friend turned girlfriend, he would have laughed.

Now, he was chasing after his paint streaked Brennan who was still laughing when they got under the spray of the hot water, grinning at his defeat.

But as he pressed his mouth against her smile while she rubbed the paint off his chest, he knew he was the real winner.

A year into their relationship, he proposed.

He didn't have it planned for a particular moment. It didn't suddenly hit him that he should propose. He always had a feeling he someday would. It only happened sooner than he anticipated.

Of course, when he first thought about the day he would ask her to marry him, he imagined it would be some elaborate display. It would be at her favorite restaurant or on the jumbotron at a Flyers game or in the middle of Times Square. It was going to over the topic romantic as Booth dropped to one knee and Brennan clasped her hands over her mouth in joyous surprise.

He ended up proposing in their kitchen.

It was a Saturday morning in December. Brennan stood at the stove top, basking in the glow of the pale sun as she made a batch of waffles. Booth sat at the kitchen counter and watched Brennan go through the motions of a lazy morning. It wasn't often they got moments like this. In a world of murder and crime, days off on Saturdays were not a constant.

"I can feel you staring at me." Brennan said, her back still turned to him.

"I'm not staring." Booth replied. "I'm admiring."

"Admiring me making waffles? I'm still in my pajamas, my hair's a mess. I haven't even gotten ready for the day yet."

"You still look perfect to me," he said. And she did. He longed for the days where he would wake up and see her before she put on the persona of Dr. Temperance Brennan: serious, brilliant, cunning. And now that he had them, he would never grow tired of it. Brennan in the morning was softer, gentler. She wore a smile more often, and his arms begged to be wrapped around her curved frame.

"We've been together for a year now, Booth." He could tell she was beginning to blush. "You don't need to compliment me all the time."

"I know I don't. But I will." He said.

She turned to face him with the shake of her head and a smile. He only smiled back, knowing she secretly enjoyed the way he spoke so highly of her. He didn't do it to boost her confidence. She already was proud of the woman she was, and it only made him love her more. But she was self-assured in a numerical way. IQ levels and number of doctorates and the golden ratio that supposedly defined if a person was attractive or not. He lived to call her gorgeous or mention how kind she was or speak of her warmth when it was just the two of them. It didn't catch her off guard as much anymore, but she would still get bashful, and Booth only wanted to praise her more.

She was the best person he knew. Whether it was them working or in a much more personal setting, she was the best. It was her flaws that made her perfect in his eyes because he was flawed too, and yet, their flaws that broke them was what rebuilt them into each other's other half.

He cut into his first waffle as she sat next to him. They fell into a quiet rhythm of eating, and his eyes wandered back towards watching her. Her brown hair tumbled against her robe covered shoulders like crashing waves. She wasn't wearing any makeup yet. He didn't even care. With, without, simultaneously beautiful. Any way she was, she reminded him of art in a museum, and he was the spectator who didn't want to see any other painting.

"Now you're just getting creepy," Brennan stated before reaching for her mug of coffee.

"Sorry." Booth said with a laugh.

She looked straight at him, locking her eyes with his. "Do you want me to watch you eat and call you handsome too?"

"I thought you said my ego was already too inflated." He puffed up his chest.

She rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

He set down his fork and rested his head onto his palm, gazing at the woman he was equally as lucky to love. His partner, his friend, his girlfriend, his―

His wife. He still couldn't call her that. And it was right then, he knew he wanted to.

He had entire speech prepared for the day he proposed. But those words were replaced by the simplest ones: "We should get married."

Brennan choked on her coffee, placing down her mug and wiping errant drops from her lips. "What?"

"Married. I know you've been opposed to marriage for some time, Bones, but this is us. Me and you. Everything about us shouldn't make sense, and yet it does. Us becoming husband and wife isn't normal, but it feels right, Bones. We've been together for a year now, and it's been the best year of my life. It truly has. Nothing compares to waking up next to you every single day." He shook his head with a laugh. "You know, I always planned on doing this somewhere really romantic and not our kitchen. But it's not the place that matters, is it? It's the moment. I love you, Bones, and that's an always."

He pushed back his chair and got down onto one knee. "I don't even have a ring, but I guess we never do anything traditional, right? That's okay. I would never be able to find a ring good enough for you, anyways. So, Bones," he took her hands into his, "will you marry me?"

It was quiet for a second, and Booth almost wondered if he had done the wrong thing. He wasn't afraid that Brennan would leave him, but marriage was something they never talked about. Their relationship was fine how it was, and she used to always chastise those who said 'I do'. But those kinds of snide remarks had quieted within the recent years, and Booth took that as a sign of her beliefs changing. This moment would only prove his suspicions as true or false.

A smile crept across Brennan's face. "Yes."

He smiled so hard, it almost hurt. "Are you serious?"

"You're so happy about the idea of getting married. That makes me happy too. So, yes, of course I want to marry you, Booth." Her eyes were bright and wide with a joy he could pinpoint out in their different shades of blue.

He jumped up from his kneeling position and pulled her out of her chair and right into his arms, pressing a kiss to her lips in the midst of their beams. This was a memory he wouldn't ever grow tired of retelling. How he asked her to marry him during one early morning in December and didn't even have a ring, but it didn't matter because she said yes. He couldn't hold her tight enough, couldn't convey enough as to how happy he was. He wasn't dreaming; this was happening. They were soon going to be saying their vows and wearing matching rings. He was going to call her his wife. And she was going to call him her husband. They were going to be partners in crime and in life.

It was one of those moments he wished to call an infinity because this was the feeling he would never want to let go of. Joy, love, her.

"We're getting married." He said, the corners of lips still tugging upwards.

"Yes, we are." She laughed.

"You're going to be my wife." He could barely formulate his sentences.

"Yes, I am." She kissed him again.

"How did this happen?" He asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy. But what made you change your mind about marriage?"

"You. I honestly didn't think about getting married until you asked just now, but you're right. It does feel right. Anthropology taught me that marriage was the for the sake of civilization and the continuation of society. I never considered the emotional factor of it until we became us. I love you, and I know I will never love any man more than you, so it only makes sense for you to be my husband." She said earnestly, wrapping her arms tightly around his back.

"So you don't think this is irrational?" He tilted his head.

"Maybe it is, but I don't want to be rational with you." Her arms released his midsection and her hands found his jaw instead, tugging him down to meet her lips with a searing kiss. It continued to build, hands wandering and hips bumping. Brennan reached to the hem of his shirt and pulled the cotton tee off of his body.

"I should have proposed to you earlier if this is how you were going to respond." He laughed as she kissed his jaw.

"How can you be so sure I would have said yes back then?" She murmured into his skin.

"Because I know you love me just as much as I love you. And that's a lot."

Her mouth found his again, the hot press of her lips and tongue almost rending his thoughts incoherent. He set his hands onto her hips and began to back her towards the direction of their bedroom. She pulled herself back, understanding what he meant and grabbed ahold of his hand.

They stumbled up the stairs and onto their bed, fingers reaching for waistbands and lips relearning planes of skin.

He let out a laugh of unconstrained happiness. "Who says the honeymoon phase has to wait until after the wedding?"

Two and half years into their relationship, they got married.

It was a beautiful ceremony, taking place right at the gardens where Brennan had chased Booth years prior, telling him that she could be a duck. It was fitting for it to take place there: the beginnings of their partnership and now their continuation as a married couple. There was not a dry eye in the place after Brennan was done reading her vows that she had unknowingly written years ago after getting buried alive. When they finally said their I dos and kissed for the first time as husband and wife, Booth knew that every terrible thing that had ever happened him didn't matter anymore.

The degenerate gambler had won the heart of the forensic anthropologist who once vowed that she would never fall in love. The son of an abusive father who used to only know the pain of striking blows now held onto the soft hands of the daughter of two runaways.

It was a tail of twisted fates that lead them to dancing together in front of their closest friends and families for their first time as a married couple. She looked so beautiful in her white dress, and the smile she wore was even better. He had to hold himself back from kissing her every moment he could, instead settling for a constant hand rested at her waist.

With their honeymoon trip to Argentina not for a couple more days, they made their way back home. The effects of champagne and sweet cake dripped into their words as they laughed and kissed and wandered into their bedroom.

"We're married," Booth smiled as he climbed into bed next to Brennan. His wife. Brennan was his wife.

"Yes, we are," she grinned back at him and moved closer, their faces only inches apart.

"I can't stop smiling." He reached over for her hand and smoothed his thumb over the cool gold of her wedding band.

"I hope you don't. I love your smile." She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his upturned ones.

He shifted onto his back and pulled her into his embrace, her head resting on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Luck doesn't exist, Booth." She reminded him like always. "But if it did, I think I would be the lucky one."

"Why?"

"Because I sworn off relationships for so long, and yet you still decided to love me."

"I didn't decide to love you, Bones. The heart wants what it wants, and mine fell for you."

"I think you mean your brain. The heart merely pumps blood."

"Nuh-uh, you're not rationalizing your way out of this one. The fact is that I love you. The how and why don't matter."

"Okay, fine." Brennan said, begrudgingly accepting Booth's reasoning. "But as I was saying, I would be the lucky one. You could have moved on once you saw what I was really like. You're attractive and kind and any woman would want you, and still you stuck with me. It was illogical of you, but I am thankful you rely on your gut because I guess your gut lead you to me."

"Bones, I always knew we would end up here. It didn't matter how long I would have to wait. I knew that you would someday see me in the same way I saw you. I could never move on from what was going to be my future. No one could make me as happy as you do. I married my best friend. How many people are able to tell a story like that?" He smiled and held her tighter.

"That's a lot of confidence to have in something that was never definite, Booth." Brennan picked her head up and rested her chin on his chest, looking him in the eyes.

"Oh, it was definite, Bones."

"Love isn't definite."

"It is with us."

And she didn't argue it. Booth waited for Brennan to retaliate. He wasn't being rational of course. He didn't always know that Brennan would one day say she loved him back. But he held onto that warm sense of hope for years because they had been through so much. Pain and loss and yet they still retained the joy of two people who cared deeply about each other. To him, that was love in its most undefinable way. It was finding happiness and comfort in someone when the world seemingly turned to hell. So maybe he wasn't sure how long it would take, but he wouldn't backtrack on his words. They were supposed to end up here. Together, in love.

"It took me a long time to accept my love for you," she admitted.

"That's okay, Bones. I mean, I don't blame you with your parents and your brother and―"

"But you had been through so much too. You had an abusive father. You proposed to Rebecca and she rejected you. But you never stopped believing in love. How?" Her blue eyes watched him with curiosity.

"Because it's the best feeling, Bones. If I gave up on love, I wouldn't be here with you right now. I wouldn't get to wake up with you every morning or curl up with you when we watch movies or stay up with you late at night talking about whatever because we don't want to go to sleep just yet. It's everything, Bones." He smiled, thinking about the small moments shared between them.

"I think you're right." She said.

"Really?"

"When it comes to you, love is everything. I thought I would never experience it, but you proved me wrong." She inched upwards and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose into the hollow of his throat. "You are everything."

"Who knew I would turn you into such a romantic, Bones?" He laughed, enveloping her body with his arms.

"I'm pretty sure you're still romantic one." She murmured back.

"Yeah, I am. But you've got your way with words."

"I am a best-selling novelist, Booth. I have to be."

"Wow," Booth said with a beam. "I'm married to a best-selling author."

She giggled at his amazement. "And I'm married to one of the best rangers that army has ever seen."

"We are quite the power couple." He mused. "Beyoncé and Jay-Z have some competition now."

"Who?"

Booth shook his head with a snicker. Her lack of pop culture knowledge would never not be amusing. "It doesn't matter."

It was quiet for a minute, the newly married couple enjoying the first pages of their next chapter in life. Brennan broke the silence with a content sigh. "Thank you, Booth."

"For what?" He questioned.

"For giving me a life that is different from what I expected and turned out to be everything I needed."

"I can thank you for the same thing, Bones." He could feel her smile against his skin.

"So," she pulled her head back from the space between his neck and shoulder blade, "what do you want to do on our first night as husband and wife?"

He rolled her onto her back and straddled his body over hers. "I think you know."

She placed her right hand onto the back of his head and tugged his mouth down to meet hers. "I love you, husband."

He smiled against her lips. "I love you too, wife."

"I don't think I'll ever grow tired of hearing that." She mumbled under his kiss.

"Then I'll never stop saying it."

After all, she was the reason the word 'always' existed.

Three and half years into their relationship, they had a baby girl.

Christine Angela Booth.

Booth and Brennan might have been biased, but she was perfect. Everything about her. Her eyes, her nose, her fingers, her toes. She was perfect and adorable and all theirs.

They didn't necessarily plan on having a baby at the moment, but it was a welcomed surprise nonetheless. And now that she was here in the world, they couldn't imagine their lives without her.

Of course, the first few nights were rough and took some time to get used to. They were consumed by crying and restless sleeps and giant cups of coffee in the morning. Still, they wouldn't trade it for the world and soon fell into the rhythm of being parents.

Booth came home and found Brennan sitting in bed with Christine in her arms. He leaned over and gave Brennan a kiss before pressing his lips to Christine's forehead. This was his new normal, and he loved it. Coming home to his two favorite girls. It was an irreplaceable feeling.

"How was your day?" Brennan asked per usual as Booth undid his tie.

His answer was always the same: "Fine, but I missed you."

"I'll be back in two weeks," she replied.

"Don't think I'm pressuring you. You can take as long of a maternity leave as you want. It's just weird going into the field without you." Booth said, slipping into a pair of sweats and a shirt.

"I know what you mean, Booth. It's strange not going to the lab everyday." Brennan looked down at her asleep daughter. "But it's worth it."

"She's so beautiful." Booth murmured as he sat down onto his side of the bed.

"Well, look at who her parents are." Brennan said proudly.

He laughed. "Especially her mom."

"Don't discredit yourself too much, Booth. She has your prominent mental protuberance after all."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget about that?"

"I should probably put her in her crib," Brennan said after a moment.

"No, not yet. I've missed her." Booth took her from Brennan's arms and into his. Christine lightly stirred, gripping onto her father's nearby thumb. "Did you miss me too, baby girl?"

"I think she did," Brennan whispered and curled closer to her husband and daughter.

"I thought you said babies don't have that kind of 'emotional capacity' at such a young age." Booth teased.

"This moment can be an exception." She ran her thumb over Christine's fingers.

He let out a yawn, feeling the wear and tear of his day finally settling into his sore muscles. His most recent case had him on the constant run, and it was getting to him since all he really wanted to be doing was sitting at home with his family.

His family. He had a family with Brennan. It still never failed to take him aback.

"You should sleep." Brennan said, motioning to take Christine from his arms. "I know this particular case has been exhausting."

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn't gone into any specifics about the case since he'd much rather discuss their daughter with her. "How did you know th―did you ask Sweets to keep tabs on me while you're at home?"

"Booth, it's perfectly normal for a wife to be concerned about her husband." She said flatly.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much. You don't need Sweets to be following me like a lost puppy and then ducking into the bathroom to text you updates." Booth argued.

Brennan looked at him in the eyes with a similar intensity. She never backed down from a fight. "You know I'm not going to stop asking him, right?"

Booth let out a sigh. "I expect nothing less from you."

She shot him a wide smile, the one of a very ungracious winner. "Now come on," she refocused her attention on the baby steadfast asleep in her father's arms, "let's get this one to bed so we can sleep too."

As if she knew her parents wanted to sleep, a small whimper escaped Christine's mouth before turning into a wail. Booth began rocking his arms, trying to sooth the crying infant with his soft voice, but it was to no avail.

"I just changed her twenty minutes ago," Brennan sighed. "I think she's hungry." Booth moved to pass over Christine, but Brennan held up her arms. "Give her a bottle. I don't know about you, but I really am tired."

"It's no problem," Booth said, pressing a kiss to Brennan's forehead. He handed over Christine, who continued to whimper and cry, to Brennan and quickly prepared a bottle.

Brennan was worried about this the most. While pregnant, she knew what to expect. It was all biology and anatomy when it came to being pregnant and then delivering a newborn. But then came the actual care. The interactions and knowing what each infant sound meant and everything in between. Of course, Booth didn't share a similar worry due to being a father already. He was more excited about showing his wife the ins and outs of being a parent. Not to his surprise, however, Brennan was a natural. She fell into the swing of things within a day or so ("I hope Christine is as quick of a learner as you are, Bones." "There's a definite possibility of that, Booth.") with her default setting of rationality switching to attentiveness.

Booth returned, bottle in hand, to find Brennan lying on her side with Christine wiggling on her back in the middle of their bed. He curled up next to them and held out the bottle for Christine.

"Hey, hey," he cooed. "It's alright. You're alright."

Christine's cries subsided into baby gurgles as she latched onto the bottle and ate. Brennan looked over at Booth with a soft smile.

"She's already a daddy's girl." Brennan said.

"Really?" He asked. "I thought she was a mommy's girl."

"Maybe this is the one area where we can tie, where there are no winners."

"I think you're right."

Brennan reached out to Booth's free hand and squeezed it. Her eyes began to flutter shut, but the smile on her face remained. He wished he had a camera to capture this moment. A moment of pure happiness. He had seen Brennan through it all. Being parentless, her father running off again, him arresting her father, a boyfriend leaving her for a boat, dates calling it off right before dinner. But that was the pain. He also saw her through the good times too. Learning how to ice skate, dining and dashing (as far as she knew), eating Chinese food, singing karaoke, sitting by the river of the town she was going to save.

But the chapters of their story were by far his favorite. Crashing at each other's places, crossing the imaginary line and kissing each other, listening to her say I do, watching her cradle their daughter in her arms. Their novel of seeming impossibilities became their joyful reality. And he could never quite articulate how much he loved it.

"I love you," Brennan whispered, breaking his thoughts.

"Who, me? Or Christine?" He smirked.

"Both." She mumbled back. "All of it. I love all of it."

Before he could reply, Christine made a gurgle that sounded of happy agreement.

Booth smiled. "I think Christine loves all of it too."

Four years into their relationship, it was any other day.

Booth and Brennan arrived home after a round of celebratory drinks for solving their most recent case. Booth tossed his keys on a nearby table while Brennan shed off her coat. They met each other again in their kitchen where Booth grabbed onto Brennan's hand and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

"Wow, what was that for?" Brennan asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Just this case. I mean, the man killed his wife because he thought she was cheating when really she was planning a huge surprise for him." Booth said. "If they had just trusted each other, we wouldn't have needed to solve this case."

"Why does that bother you so much, Booth?" She held onto one of his hands. "We've dealt with cases like this before."

"I don't think it's bothering me… I think it's most of me realizing how great of a relationship we have. I mean, I trust no one more than you. I never doubt you about anything. I know you'll always do the right thing." He sighed, softly smiling at her. "And you trust me too."

"Of course I do, Booth." She intertwined her fingers with his. "You're my partner in every aspect from my life."

"It's funny to think that at one point we were too afraid to act upon our feelings for each other because we never thought this would work out." Booth said with a slight laugh.

"And now we have a relationship that's so strong, it makes us feel bad to see how terrible other people's are in comparison."

"Oh, I don't know if I feel bad." He grinned wickedly. "Do you?"

"No, not really." Brennan shared a similar smile back. "It's their loss really."

Booth moved closer towards Brennan, pressing her up against their kitchen island as he fit his mouth to hers. Her hands slide up his arms but quickly stopped at his chest, pushing him back.

"Isn't Max going to be home with Christine soon?" She asked, her eyes darting towards their front door.

"Nope. I called him a couple of hours ago and told him to take Christine for the night. He's gonna spend a day with her tomorrow and bring her back in the evening." Booth replied.

"So we're alone?" Her eyebrows arched upwards.

"Completely alone."

Brennan gave him a knowing smirk and wrapped his tie around one of her hands, pulling him in the direction of their bedroom.

"Looks like we're going to have a late night."

Yesterday was my birthday (March 13th), so in Sweets' fashion, instead of getting gifts, I give this last chapter as a gift to anyone who read my fic. Thank you for all of the follows, reviews, and favorites. This was a fun story to write!