Spoilers/Timeline: None/Set sometime in the future.

Disclaimer: Much to my dismay and despite my continued begging, I do not own Bones. Title from Brad Paisley song of the same name.

A/N: I categorized this as romance because, even though there are no overt romantic declarations or gestures, I felt, as my good friend CupcakeBean would say, there was something strangely intimate here

"Booth!" She pounded on the door once again. "I know you're in there; I saw the Tahoe out front." She paused. "Are you mad at me?" Her mind flew back over their last case. There had been the usual arguments – science vs. his gut, etc., etc. – but she didn't think she'd truly upset him. She contemplated using the spare key he had given her, but that would mean juggling the coffee and files to dig them out of her pocket. She had a precarious hold on the coffee as it was. She moved to knock again as the door opened.

"Bones." His voice croaked from deep in his throat.

"Booth, what happened?" She moved past him into the apartment. "You look like you've been hit by a van."

"By a truck, Bones, by a truck." He pushed the door shut and fell onto his couch. "I'm sick. Parker was coming down with something last weekend so…" He trailed off as a coughing fit overtook him.

"But you were fine yesterday." She set the coffee and files down on the table.

"Yeah, well, it's been a busy week and sometimes these things don't hit until you actually slow down and relax. Plus, we were out in the rain a lot…"

"Mmm." She nodded, eyes lingering over him. He was paler than she ever recalled seeing him – his nose red, cheeks flushed – and his hair was messed from tossing his sleep. She couldn't help but think it was oddly sexy.

His voice interrupted any further musings. "You should probably go. We both don't need to be sick."

"Alright," She moved to the door. "don't worry about the files; we'll go over them when you're better."

"K, thanks for the coffee, Bones." She couldn't see it, but she heard the smile in his voice. Her hand hovered over the doorknob as a little voice in her head chose that moment to speak up. If this were her – if she was the one that was sick – there was no way he would leave. No matter how sick she was or how much she'd protest, he'd stay. The voice sounded suspiciously like Angela.

"I'm staying." She turned around, shrugging off her coat.

"What?!" His head flew up off the couch and she saw him wince.

"I said, I'm staying, and don't go all Alpha male on me either. You need to rest, but you also need to eat and stay medicated. When was the last time you took something? Anyhow, I'm not needed at the lab today; I'll call and tell Cam to let Clark continue working on the man from Limbo. I can work on the files here while you rest." He stifled a laugh. She was rambling. His Bones. Rambling. He never thought he'd see it. "Also, this place is a mess, Booth." She gestured to the tissue strewn table. "Just because you're sick doesn't mean you can be a slop."

"Slob." He deadpanned, unsure she even heard him.

"In fact, it's probably making things worse. You're spreading bacteria across the entire apartment."

"Bones-" She continued rattling off facts about bacteria. He tried again. "Bones…"

"And is that a humidifier? You might as well just invite the bact-"

"Temperance!" She stopped, eyes locking with his. "Thanks."

"It's not a probl-"

He cut her off again. "Thank you." He leaned back, reveling in the soft smile that settled on her face before closing his eyes for the first time in hours.

Brennan eyed the clock. Booth had been sleeping for the past two and a half hours and, though she knew she should, she couldn't bring herself to wake him. She closed the file in front of her, watching as he pulled the pillow next to him to his chest, a ghost of a charm smile settling on his face. What in the world was he dreaming about? Realizing there was no way to know, she stood and made her way into his kitchen. He might not be awake yet, but at least she could get dinner started. She opened a cupboard and was surprised to find it overflowing with pasta and spices. They ate at the Diner or grabbed take-out so much that she'd never considered what kind of cook he'd be. Or, even, if he cooked at all. More cupboards yielded quite a bit of kid friendly food and various dry goods. She smiled; he had a well stocked kitchen. Clearly, he enjoyed making food as much as he enjoyed eating it.

Briefly, she contemplated making mac & cheese. He had everything she'd need, but a cream based dish might not be the best thing for him right now. Soup. People always brought chicken soup when you were sick. She flipped open his laptop, navigated to the necessary website, and found what she was looking for. Perfect.

The soup was simmering on the stove and she was leafing through the TV Guide she'd found under the pile of folders she'd brought.

"Bones." She looked up. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. She could see the difference in his breathing.

"Right here, Booth."

"Bones, whatever that is smells amazing."

"Well, I figured you might be hungry when you woke up so – and I hope you don't mind – I raided your cupboards and made some soup." She got up and walked back into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder as she went. "I thought about mac & cheese but, given your state, decided it probably wasn't the best idea." She ladled some soup into both their bowls.

"Probably." His voice from the doorway startled her and she jumped.

"Go, sit back down, I'll bring it to you."

He shook his head deciding it was better not to argue. He could barely win one when he was at a hundred percent. "What kind of soup is it?"

"Well, I know it's not the same as mac & cheese, but I thought pasta and I know people eat soup when they're sick so…" She handed him his bowl. "Pasta Fagioli."

"Bones," He took a spoonful. "this is amazing." He grinned and they both dug in.

She finished drying the bowls and slid them back in the cupboard. She'd sent him to shower while she cleaned up; she could still hear the water running even though that had almost been a half hour ago. She picked up the bottle on the counter and read: NyQuil. He might need something stronger if he still felt this way tomorrow, but it would suffice for now. She poured the proper dose and put it next to the box of tissues on the coffee table before turning her attention to the TV. She managed to turn it on, but getting sound was proving to be a challenge. She kept hitting buttons on the remote until-

"I got it, Bones, I'm not a complete invalid." He took the remote from her hand and flicked the speakers on before settling on the couch looking refreshed, but still not himself.

"I just-"

"I know." He patted the couch. "Come sit down. Looking after me all day couldn't have been very relaxing."

"More relaxing than how I'd normally spend the day." She curled her feet up under her. "I got through most of the files. You'll just have to go back and sign off on a couple things."

"Mmm." He nodded, the NyQuil already beginning to take affect. Or maybe it was her presence beside him. He shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them again he found her watching him intently.

"I thought you might be falling asleep again."
"Not yet." He draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close. "You know, you're almost guaranteed to get sick now."

"Well, you'll just have to come take care of me when I do." She smiled as a shocked look flew across his face.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Bones." Her head fell against his shoulder and, he couldn't help himself, he pulled her further into his embrace. "I wouldn't have it any other way."