Author's Note: A simple story that I wrote in my own bed on a lazy, rainy Sunday. While it isn't a "Sequel" of my story The Could in the Should, it was written with that storyline in mind. I am thinking that perhaps there are a few one shots in there. Perhaps this is me trying to stay calm before, what is sure to be, an emotional season finale….

She lay there, naked against the cool crisp linen, wrapped in the luxury of 1400 thread-count organic Egyptian cotton sheets. They were akin to the softest silk, but far more environmentally responsible. Temperance Brennan may not be one to flaunt her book royalties, to purchase unnecessarily markers of wealth, but when it came to her bed no expense was spared. It was a rational decision. A rather large percentage of time was spent there, even though her hours were less than average, and quality of sleep was directly related to overall productivity and health. The fact that the muted shades of grays and lavenders, the wrought iron scrollwork, or the ruffled shams made her feel feminine and beautiful was just not a part of the equation she dwelled on. The end result was the same, she adored this space. She never would have imagined that the only missing element was something so…masculine.

The first time he had seen her bedroom he had tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his surprise. They had been just partners, a year or two into their work, arguing about some inconsequential matter when he had followed when she went to change out of a broken heel.

He halted mid complaint. "Wow Bones its really nice in here."

She had stopped short, turned to face him, nearly nose to nose. "Are you implying that is incongruent with the rest of my home?" He couldn't determine her tone to be teasing or irritated.

He faltered under her glare. "No…not at all… you know that I love your place….but this is really…nice."

She smirked, knowing she had just won something. "Yes, as you have already indicated."

She merely reached for the shoes in her closet and walked away without discussing it further. She was determined not to think what his generic adjective of "nice" meant.

She smiled at the memory. His presence was unnerving in that moment and yet somehow he now completed the space, brought a new level of sanctuary to her already perfect place. He made it feel like home. Looking at his musculature and how its curves and planes were highlighted by the early morning glow. His physical prowess was evident, impressive, even with dark hair askew, a sense of strength despite the serenity of his face as he dreamt. His warmth, his scent, the sound of his breathing washed over her like a calming rain. Although she had allowed other men into her bed, she had never felt them there, not like this. In a markedly un-Dr. Brennan move, she moved closer to his reposed form, and allowed herself to join in his continued morning slumber.

It was nearly an hour later when Booth woke, his first thought was of softness, the bed beneath him, the skin of her beside him, a feeling that had settled in his heart. There was always an aura of elegance about her, nothing forced or faked, yet he would never have expected the detail she put into her bedroom. He had spent countless hours in the public parts of her home. He expected the museum quality of her things. While over time he had come to appreciated that to her these artifacts were personal, and he began to understand that it had its own variety of warmth. The intimacy of this space opened up to him, like her heart had.

It had only been a few weeks since they first crossed the line…that damn line. But Booth was a believer in fate, which allowed him to understand that they had to take their journey to get where they were today, however painful it was.

It had come in an unsuspecting moment Parker and he had picked up Bones unexpectedly for a day in the park. He had always loved the park in the spring; the trees were rich and green, the grass cool and soft, the sky almost...almost… could complete with the hue of her eyes.

Parker was playing with Brennan's dog, Trotter, running with a red Frisbee, shouting with a level of joy he rarely heard from his budding preteen. He felt her hand relax with his; it felt like coming home.

She smiled watching the world go by. "This is nice."

"Yeah." He hadn't known what else to say, how often had they been on this precipice. If there was one thing he had learned that when these moments came he had to tread lightly.

"Parker is definitely beginning to show his adult structure. His appearance is taking on more of your prominent features."

"Yeah." I seemed words where not his friend today.

Her hand shifted under his, for a terrifying moment he thought she was going to pull it away, but instead he discovered her intertwining her fingers with his, purposeful, deliberate, open.

He turned in that moment to look at her. Her sparkling eyes met his, his charming smile matched her coy one, and suddenly in the breath of a moment her lips touched his. It felt like coming home.

That moment, that snippet in time when his life suddenly made sense, would make him smile for the rest of his life. Mulling the sweet perfection as he admired the light that caressed her bare shoulder that set off the amber highlights of her hair, his face couldn't contain his joy and suddenly he knew he had to start the day. Hating to wake her, knowing that for her stretches of quality sleep were a rarity, he gently slipped from the bed, from her bed. A piece of him wanted nothing more than to laze the day away, to spend this impossibly perfect Saturday with her in his arms but he had plans.

When she woke again, the sun had crept up much higher on the bedroom wall. The angle indicated that it was nearly 9 am, incredibly late for her to still be abed. The fact was disorientating to her, especially when she realized the bed was cold, until she heard him muttering in her kitchen. Grabbing his discarded dress shirt from the night before, she grinned as she walked down the hall.

She entered her kitchen, and wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. Her normally immaculate and orderly space looked like it had been taken over by a class of rowdy kindergarteners. There was batter, on the counter, dripping to the floor, leaving a sticky white trail down the cabinet front. Not one but two eggs lay on the floor shattered, oozing yellow across her dark slate tiles. There was even a spot of something that looked disturbingly like ketchup in a splatter pattern on her ceiling. And as if on cue her smoke alarm began to scream at the black billows that were coming off a pan on the stove.

"SHIT!" Booth shouted as he moved to turn the stove knob.

Normally Booth was fairly adept in the kitchen, not a gourmet but he had made her a delightful dinner on several occasions. However it would seem this was not the case today, and the tension across his trapezius gave evidence of his physical and emotional discomfort. She progressed toward him hoping her mirth would calm him.

However her movement stopped as she noticed on the counter, in her favorite mug, was a cup of coffee, beside it a single vibrant daffodil. In an attempt to stifle her giggle she lifted the flower to her noses. And her giggle relaxed into a warm smile.

Switching the bud for the coffee she took a small sip, wallowing in the robust liquid. It was a rich dark roast, freshly ground. He had added a split vanilla bean to the press before brewing. There was a single splash of cream, no sweetener. Serving as a sudden reminder of what was important.

"Mmmmmm" it made her sigh as she continued to warm her hands on the ceramic and allow the aroma to envelope her. "Booth it's splendid."

"Bones…please I destroyed your kitchen. I really am sorry." He refused to face her, ashamed of his errors.

She came up behind him and snaked her arms around his middle, allowing her hand without coffee to sneak beneath his well-worn t-shirt to rest on his taught abs. "It can all be cleaned, besides I recognize the attempt was made out of a desire to show your affection and ability to provide for me.

He turned in her embrace without meeting her eyes. He looked defeated, as if he was ready to accept punishment. "Going all squinty on me isn't going to get the yolk off the tile." His voice was heavy.

"Trust me Booth, your prowess as an alpha male is not in question, nor is your regard for me, despite today's culinary adventure." She lifted his face to meet hers, as he so often had to her. Making a dramatic show she once again took a solid drink. "This is precisely the way I take my coffee."

He looked puzzled, not truly understanding the meaning of her words. "Well Bones of course it is. After all this time I should know how you take your coffee." He brushed off the complement.

"Exactly. You know my coffee, down to every nuance. My preferences for a fresh vanilla bean, my need to have it before I would partake in any other breakfast offerings, even my favorite mug.

His simple, affable tone nearly did her in. "I know you Bones." While he appreciated her understanding about the mess he still didn't quite realize why she was so pleased.

"Don't you see? You know me." She reached up kissing the rough skin of his unshaved jaw. "You know me, and you care for me. Burnt toast doesn't change that, couldn't change that. This." She motioned to her cup, "A simple act that has lasting implication of familiarity. It is personal, not flashy. It is affection and warmth and tenderness. That is what love is? Isn't it?" The question at the end grabbed out to him.

His eyes finally met hers and grew soft, shifting from their usual chocolate tint to something more akin to a rich smoky scotch, emphasizing the golden flecks. For a second he allowed his fingers to twirl a silken lock of hair and his lips barely brushed hers. "When did you get so smart?"

She smiled at the relaxation that emanated from him; he had finally grasped her connotation. "Well I was genetically predisposed to above- average intelligence, and my expertise is something that evolved with training. " She smiled letting on that she was toying with him. "But" her voice became softer as her arms draped around his neck "this particular topic? Matters of emotion? That I learn from you…every day."

He kissed her soundly, full of passion and love. "I love you." He whispered.

She smiled at him "I know."

He grinned. "And I will clean this up."

With that she took her coffee, turned and headed off to the shower.

Her smile grew, but she didn't even look back at him. "Oh I know that too."