A Sunday Kind of Love

Author's Note: I own nothing to do with Bones except the DVDs. I do however borrow the characters from time to time to play out little scenes that pop into my mind. I also do not own the title of this story, but it's a really good song by Etta James. If you know it, imagine it playing in the background for this little PWP. Thanks for reading!

Seeley Booth relaxed on his couch, a beer bottle in hand on what should have been a lazy Sunday afternoon. There was a football game on, but since it wasn't his team playing, he was contemplating heading back to the bedroom and laying down.

A knock at the front door interrupted his thoughts and after tightening the drawstring on his faded sweatpants, he pulled the door open. His visitor was Max Brennan, his partner's father and a known murderer. Booth wasn't supposed to like him, but he couldn't deny the man had earned his respect.

"Hi, Max."

"Hey Booth," he motioned inside, "would you mind if I came in for a sec?"

"Sure, come on in. Let me go put on a shirt, I'll be right back."

"No need, you're fine."

"Ok, well, come in, do you want a beer?"

"No, I came to talk to you about my daughter."

"What about her?" Booth asked warily.

"You know you and I actually have a lot in common."

"Okay," Booth responded, not quite sure where Max was headed with this.

"You and I both know that I would do just about anything to keep my daughter safe."

"Any parent would."

"That's right, you understand the love a parent has for a child." Max leaned down and picked up a picture of Parker that sat on a side table.

"Max, why are you here?"

Max set the picture back down. "I, uh, heard a rumor while I was in jail about a hit that was put out on my daughter a few years ago."

"Hmm, that's an interesting story," Booth nodded, trying to appear as if he didn't know anything about it.

"What's even more interesting is that a witness saw a man put a gun in the mouth of one of the most dangerous men on the East Coast and threaten him. Then, magically, the hit was called off. It's kind of an urban legend on the inside."

"Maybe it's true since she's still alive."

"Hits don't get called off, Booth."

Booth didn't respond.

"I just wanted to tell you thanks for taking care of her."

The door to Booth's bedroom opened and a woman walked out wearing the t-shirt Booth was missing. "Taking care of who?" the woman asked.

"No one," the men answered in unison.

She rolled her eyes and stepped back into the bedroom, assumingly to put on something a little more appropriate for company.

"Are you in love with her?"

"Yes," Booth answered without hesitation.

"Does she know that?" Max said, motioning back to the door.

"She's heard the words, but I don't think she's processed them."

"Booth, if there is anyone that can heal the scars on my daughter's heart, it's you. "

"Thanks," Booth said with a genuine smile and stretched out his arm to shake the older man's hand.

Max didn't let go before he responded, "Just remember that I'm around and I'll always look out for my little girl." The handshake tightened deliberately before Max pulled back.

They both knew the words were intended as a threat but Booth didn't take it as such. "Good, she needs all the help she can get."

It was Max's turn to show a wide smile, and he nodded, fully aware of the tendency for Tempe to get into dangerous situations.

"I'll let you get back to your afternoon. Tell Tempe I said I'll see her tomorrow at work."

Max pulled the front door behind him, leaving Booth to think back on the odd conversation.

Temperance Brennan stepped out of the bedroom, this time with the addition of a pair of plaid boxer shorts. "Is that why you were late to the funeral that day?"

"Yes." He leaned down for a quick kiss.

"You know I can take care of myself, Booth."

"I am very aware of that fact. Let's chalk it up to I didn't know you as well then," he offered, pulling her down to the couch to land in his lap.

"Hmm," she nuzzled against his neck. "Did my father give you a hard time about me being here?"

"Not really. He said thank you for taking care of you, asked if I was in love with you, gave me his blessing, and threatened me if I hurt you."

Bones pulled back, "How did you respond?"

"You're welcome, yes, thanks and with a handshake."

"Why did you tell him that?"

"Which part," Booth asked, confused.

"About being in love."

"You know I'm in love with you, don't I tell you all the time?"

"Yes, you do, but—"

"But what?"

"It might not be a good idea to tell everyone."

"Everyone like the squints? Your family?"

"Booth, not everyone is like you. You understand that I take more time to process my emotions."

"I know that you feel the same way about me as I do about you, I see it in your eyes and I feel it in your touch. I am as sure of that as I am that as anything. And, someday, when you're ready, you'll say the words."

"But everyone else—"

Booth placed his finger over her mouth. "Everyone else can mind their own business. This is the weekend and our business is to relax," he slid his finger across her lower lip, "and enjoy time together without a dead body between us."

Bones looked over toward the TV. "What about your game?"

In a quick move of strength and agility, Booth leaned forward, picked up his partner over his shoulder, which caused the t-shirt she was wearing to reveal the tiniest slip of red silk panties.

"Booth!!" she shrieked between the deep laughter he loved.

As he walked down the hall toward his bedroom, he spanked her teasingly. "The only game I'm interested in is about to begin, and I fully intend to win."

The End.