"Eyeballs?" Brennan said loudly, brows raised.

"Yes, eyeballs. Geez, Bones, could you keep it down?" Booth shushed her, glancing around the restaurant.

Brennan took a sip of her wine. "It just seems highly unreasonable for you to assume that eggs were eyeballs. Eyeballs differ greatly from eggs. Eggs are not organs that detect light, nor do they send electrical impulses along the optic nerve to the visual and other areas of the brain. Eggs are simply a round or oval body produced by the female of any number of species, consisting of an ovum surrounded by layers of membranes-"

Booth let out a frustrated sigh and held up his hand, stopping the flow of her speech.

"I know the difference between eggs and eyes, Bones! But I was little when my mother told me that story, and when you're little, you believe things your parents tell you, right? So I just thought the eggs were eyes, and I've never been able to eat meatloaf with eggs in it ever since." Booth played with his napkin, avoiding eye contact with her.

Brennan smiled slightly, watching Booth. It was a cute story, she had to admit. And though he seemed embarrassed about it, he still chose to tell her, which she found to be oddly endearing.

Noticing that he still seemed uncomfortable, Brennan tried to lighten the mood. "So if you're ever over at my place on meatloaf night, I should skip the hard boiled egg component all together?"

Booth looked up from the napkin he was tearing up, a small smile forming on his lips.

Brennan's smile grew, and she continued. "I have been told that I make quite an angry meatloaf, Booth, so I wouldn't want you to miss out on that."

He let out a laugh, all signs of embarrassment gone. "You make a 'mean' meatloaf, Bones. Not 'angry.'"

"Yes, well, you know what I mean. What's important is that I make a damn good meatloaf and you would be missing out if you never tried it," she smirked, taking another sip of her wine.

Booth laughed louder, clearly enjoying the direction the conversation had turned. "You know, Bones, you're starting to sound a lot like me. I think we spend too much time together."

Brennan smiled faintly, looking down at her glass. He had meant it as a joke, she knew that. But a small part of her couldn't keep out that nagging feeling of doubt. Did they really spend too much time together? They had moved far past the requisite amount of time strictly professional partners spend together years ago, so what exactly were they doing? Were they friends? Of course they were. But lately…lately things had felt different, somehow.

Brennan sighed and looked up at Booth once more, noticing a small frown forming on his brow. "What?"

"You okay, Bones?" Booth leaned forward, his frown deepening.

"I-" She didn't know what to say. Her thoughts were just ridiculous. There wasn't anything different between her and Booth. He had said it himself; nothing was going to change between them.

"I was just kidding about you sounding a lot like me, you know," Booth put his hand on hers before continuing, "you are far too smart to ever sound as stupid as I do." He winked.

She glanced at their hands before looking back at him, a smile tugging at her lips once more. "You never sound stupid."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, yes, there are moments when you say certain things that are quite inappropriate and have absolutely no relevance to the conversation taking place," Booth nodded, "but you should never call yourself stupid, Booth. Besides, your statement about me beginning to sound like you did not affect my mood."

Brennan looked down at their joined hands once more, watching as Booth's thumb began to stroke her knuckles. Back and forth, back and forth…it had an oddly calming effect on her, one she enjoyed very much.

"So then what's really bothering you, Bones?"

She tore her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of their hands and looked at Booth. Honestly? She had no idea what was truly bothering her. There were a multitude of emotions and thoughts and possibilities going through her mind every time she was with Booth, no matter the situation. He had the potential to make her happy, frustrated, annoyed, and angry… sometimes even sad. But right now, she was simply confused. Having this conversation about eyeballs and meatloaf had, for inexplicable reasons, stirred up feelings that Brennan just couldn't explain.

And she hated that.

She hated the fact that she simply could not comprehend something, let alone something that was essentially a part of her being.

If she confided in Booth about her sudden inner turmoil, he would launch into an irrational tangent about her heart versus her brain, or something similar, and that would only succeed in confusing her further.

So she gazed into those reassuring brown eyes of his, smiled, and said, "It's nothing, Booth."

He leaned further across their table, gazing steadily at her. It seemed to Brennan as if he was attempting to gain any hidden knowledge that he could from her just by staring into her eyes. Which was completely ridiculous and not even remotely possible, of course. But knowing Booth, he probably could. The thought sent shivers up her spine.

When he looked like he was about to question her again, Brennan interrupted him with a quick, "Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?"

Booth looked as shocked as she felt.

But why was she shocked? And why exactly was he shocked? It wasn't as if she had asked a completely unreasonable or forward question. Booth had been to her apartment on many occasions, and on more than one of those visits she had made him dinner. Then why now were her palms sweaty?

This evening was turning out to be ridiculously confusing.

Disentangling her hand from his gently, Brennan brushed imaginary dust from the sleeve of her jacket while attempting to casually retract her abrupt question. "Did I say tomorrow? I was mistaken in thinking that I would be free tomorrow evening because I have a previous engagement that I seem to have temporarily overlooked and-"

"Now, Bones, you're not trying to back out of a dinner invitation, are you? Because that would be extremely rude, and I don't know how I would feel about that."

Brennan stopped brushing off the fake dust. She quickly looked up at him, suddenly worried that her ridiculous endeavor to try and backtrack had actually offended Booth.

Instead he was grinning.

"I seem to remember you telling me, only minutes ago, about the 'damn good' meatloaf you make, and now you've got me real curious. Since you're so busy and all, how about we make it a late dinner and I'll help you cook? It would be to my benefit to learn how to make what I've been told is the world's greatest meatloaf, and it would be to your benefit to pass on your remarkable recipe to someone, don't you think?"

Brennan damned him to hell for being so charming. "I suppose that scenario would be beneficial to the both of us, yes." Despite being trapped against a metaphorical wall, she grinned, too.

"It's a date, then!" Brennan's grin slipped momentarily and Booth corrected, "A cooking class! It'll be just like a cooking class."

They both stared at each other for a moment, and then burst into sudden awkward laughter, which turned into real laughter at how ridiculous they were both being.

Booth's laugh quieted, his voice softening as he reassured her, "Dinner sounds great, Bones. If your meatloaf is anywhere near as delicious as your mac n' cheese, then I'm in for a real treat."

Brennan couldn't stop smiling at him. And she desperately (and quite irrationally, she thought) wanted to hear him laugh again, so she simply replied, "Damn straight."

He laughed.