This is my first "Bones" fic. I just finished watching all five seasons in the span of about a month and have also read what happened and watched a few episodes in Season 6. So here's my take on some scenes that could happen between Brennan & Booth in Season 7. Reviews are welcome! :)

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"No, Bones – you're not goin' with me!" Booth insisted, blocking her path to the staircase of the center of the lab.

"But Booth –" Brennan protested.

"I'm sorry, baby, but you're six months pregnant and you're really startin' to stick out there. The FBI would have my ass andmy badge if I let you go out in the field!" Booth defended. "Plus, I don't like the thought of our child being endangered because you're goin' all feminist on me."

Brennan glared at him.

"This has nothing to do with the Feminist Movement. It has to do with the FBI assuming I'm incompetent to do my job simply because I'm carrying an underdeveloped fetus in the womb of my abdomen. I agree that it's not a good idea to go chasing after the killer, but going to the scene where the murder occurred has no danger involved. The approximate odds of me or the baby getting injured are -" she argued.

".022222 out of one million, three thousand and sixty-four," Clark interjected. "Not that I'm not happy you two are finally together, but I would rather not be caught in the middle of one of your couples' spats."

"See!" she smirked.

"Bones, you can't physically climb down ladders and crap or inhale rancid fumes – my shoes still smell like your fruity breakfast barf, by the way!" he complained.

"Regurgitation is a perfectly natural reaction during pregnancy initiated by the overly heightened sense of smell which causes a woman's reflexes to mistake a once tolerable odor for one that is intolerable," Brennan explained.

"Whatever . . . My point is it's just not practical right now. Let your squintern Clark, here, have a shot at it," Booth attempted to reason with her, flashing his puppy-dog look for added persuasion.

She contemplated his argument and unwillingly caved.

"Fine," she relented. "But get as many samples as possible and make sure he's thorough. And –"

"Send the body and everything in its environment back to the Jeffersonian. I got it, Bones. Listen, Ang is gonna keep an eye on you, so no sneaking off to catch up with us," he warned and kissed her cheek before hurriedly running down the stairs. "Clark, my man – let's go! You are with me today, buddy."

Clark looked at Brennan who nodded and motioned in approval. He grumbled and reluctantly followed Booth, who looked back up at Brennan.

"Love ya, babe!" he waved as they left.

Brennan rolled her eyes and walked the path to her office when she was stopped by Sweets.

"Dr. Brennan! Did you and Booth get my text about our session today?" he asked.

"Yes, but I don't understand why we have to attend?" she questioned.

"Just meet me this afternoon," Lance said and left.

"Hey, sweetie!" Angela approached her, guiding her into her office. "No rock on that finger yet I see?"

"If you're referring to an engagement ring, no. But unlike the great majority of women in this world, I have no problem with it. While I like jewelry, I don't see the need for frivolous items to represent the extent of my relationship with Booth," Brennan replied.

"Oh, come on. You've gotta admit there's a tiny part of you that wants him to ask you. And diamonds are a girl's best friend," Angela insisted.

"Wait a minute – how would a gemstone take the place of a communicating human being to fulfill the support and companionship everyone desires?" Brennan questioned.

"It's a figure of speech, sweetie," she explained. "So you really don't want Booth to get down on one knee?"

Brennan hesitated.

"Perhaps there is a small part that wouldn't mind if he proposed," she smiled, coyly.

"Aaah! I knew it! Hodgins owes me big time!" Angela exclaimed.

"No – Ang – I said a small part - that doesn't mean I've converted . . . I just . . . I really love him," Brennan admitted.

"You wanna be Mrs. Seeley Booth . . ." Angela teased in a sing-song tone.

"I never said that! Besides . . . even if Booth and I did perform the archaic ritual so many believe in, who says I would change my name? In some ethnic societies, the man changes his name," Brennan replied.

"You really have thought about this . . ." Angela grinned.

"No . . . I was simply stating a fact –" she denied.

"Thought about what?" Booth asked, returning from the crime scene.

"Nothing!" Brennan covered.

"Awkward . . . Awkward. Awkward. Very awkward . . ." Angela grimaced.

"No! Nothing is awkward," Brennan insisted. "Angela – weren't you going to check on Michael at daycare?"

"I'll leave you two alone. Brennan has a lot to tell you," Angela winked and patted Booth's arm before leaving.

"Really? Did Hodgins perform another one of his squint experiments again?" Booth guessed.

"Um . . . Yes – yes! You know Hodgins – always blowing things over . . ." Brennan said, nervously.

"Up, Bones. You blow things up . . . Is everything okay – well besides being on lab-arrest, I mean?" he asked, concerned.

"Perfect. Why are you back so soon – crime scene observations usually take hours?" she asked.

"Yeah, well not when the only big evidence we found was a frozen hand holding a bloody knife. We have no clue where the rest of the body was dumped," he explained.

"Interesting . . ." she replied. "So it's here?"

"Yeah. I've got it and a couple other gruesome goodies for you downstairs. But first, I've gotta do this," Booth said, teasing her bottom lip.

Brennan responded, grazing her tongue along his teeth, then sliding it deeper into the depths of his mouth.

"Whoa . . . Somebody really missed me," he grinned, devilishly.

"Technically, my increased hormone level is causing me to feel sexual desires toward you at the moment . . . But yes, we did," she smiled and rubbed her swollen belly.

Booth shook his head at Brennan's scientific excuse for her enthusiastic greeting and bent down, placing his hand on hers.

"Hey, little Bren. Daddy's back from fighting crime. Now it's Mama Bones' turn to work her magic," he winked at Brennan.

"It's not magic, Booth – it's science," she corrected him.

"C'mon, Bones – time to get the bad guys," he said, leading her downstairs.

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"Why are we here?" Brennan huffed, as she and Booth sat in Sweets' office that late afternoon. "Booth and I have been together for almost six months . . . we're having a child together . . . we live together – obviously we've overcome our issues of being unable to express our feelings for each other and act on those feelings. And we have absolutely no problem with compartmentalizing those feelings when we're at work and conducting our duties in a very professional manner."

"Yeah, Sweets, she's right. So what kinda psycho mumbo-jumbo have ya got for us now?" Booth wondered.

"Well, for one, you guys both know that your relationship is . . . frowned upon by the FBI. But, given how well you work together and the number of cases you've solved, they're willing to overlook it – if you continue our counseling sessions," Lance began.

"Okay . . . but why are we stuck in here when we don't have any problems?" Booth questioned. "C'mon, Bones, I can think of a ton of productive ways to spend our time . . ."

"Technically, Sweets' sessions have proven to be very productive at times," Brennan defended Lance. "And what kind of 'productive' activities were you talking about, Booth? We didn't have anything else left on our schedule for another hour."

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan," Lance smiled. "I'm flattered that you value -"

"Sex, Bones. Sex," Booth rolled his eyes in frustration. "Do I always have to spell it out for you?"

"Oh. Sorry, baby – I know how squeamish you get talking about anything to do with intercourse," Brennan apologized. "Not that that prevents us from having it. Booth and I actually perform intercourse on a regular basis – more so when I experienced a very hormonal stage in my pregnancy . . ."

"Bones . . .!" Booth objected.

"So you intended to leave this office and make out somewhere in your building or Dr. Brennan's?" Lance repeated, judgingly. "You realize any type of sexual relations in the workplace is very inappropriate?"

"Tell me, Sweets, have you ever slept with Daisy or another girl in this office?" Booth countered.

"You're deflecting. You're diverting the subject to put me in the spotlight," Lance observed.

"Spotlight? I don't see an extremely bright instrument used to interrogate or showcase anyone," Brennan remarked, confused.

"He means figuratively, Bones," Booth explained.

"Oh," she said.

"Back to our original topic, I'm sure you guys have some major issues to resolve, despite the fact that you're in denial," Lance said.

"Hey, we are a perfectly happy couple – right, Bones?" Booth maintained, putting his arm around her.

"Perhaps Sweets is merely pointing out that all couples who engage in long-term relationships have contentious matters to overcome," Brennan interpreted.

"Exactly. And in your case, I'm assuming there are a slew of them - one, being your baby and how you'll raise her. Which, given how different your personalities are and the fact that you're still in the 'honeymoon' stage of your relationship, I'm sure you've avoided creating a set plan?" Lance asked.

"That is incorrect. Booth and I have already agreed to raise our child together, giving her the stabilization of two parents living in the same household," Brennan answered.

"That's a good start, but what about the details? Religion, values, a legal commitment . . ." Lance countered.

"She'll be Catholic, of course –" Booth replied.

"Wait - please tell me this is one of your jokes that I don't understand," Brennan interrupted.

"No – I think all children should experience religion," he said.

"Well, I don't. I believe that subjecting children to any congregation of people who believe there is a higher power out there to protect them or punish them is illogical because those higher powers have never been scientifically proven to exist. It would be teaching our child to believe in a fairytale . . . to live her entire life based on what is more than likely a lie – or false hope, to be more tactful," Brennan argued.

"Yeah, that's really tactful, Bones," Booth retorted, retracting his arm from her shoulder.

"Guys, just sit back and discuss this rationally, okay? Now, is there any chance you might be able to compromise?" Lance suggested.

"I suppose we could let her decide for herself . . ." Brennan replied.

"If we expose her to going to church a few times, first," Booth insisted.

"It's not something I like, but I guess it's not an unreasonable decision," Brennan agreed.

Booth smirked.

"Better than your complete opposition to marriage . . ." he muttered, resentfully.

"Excuse me? We haven't even discussed that subject since we've been together," she reminded him.

"And I wonder why . . .?" Booth said, sarcasm oozing off of his lips.

"Good . . . Good . . . this is good. So Booth, can you tell Dr. Brennan what you're feeling?" Lance encouraged.

"She knows how I feel," Booth said stubbornly. "She's just anti-marriage."

"Why should I support a ritual that bases an entire union solely on a piece of paper and bands consisting of elements and gemstones? And yes, a majority of the world population has centered their lives on it for centuries, but it no more guarantees that a couple will stay together by standing in front of a judge or a minister than it does without it. In fact, there are studies that indicate that marriage puts more of a burden on relationships," Brennan stated.

"Here we go . . ." Booth groaned.

"Everything I just stated is true – regardless of how you see it, Booth. Those are the basic elements of marriage and people add their own views as to the rest," Brennan maintained.

"Marriage is sanctity between two people who promise to love, support, and be faithful to each other for the rest of their lives. It's a celebration of the love of a couple – not a funeral or a death sentence. If you ever truly loved someone, you'd see it differently!" Booth argued and angrily went to the door. "See ya later, Sweets."

"Booth!" Brennan stood up as fast as she could in her state and proceeded to go after him.

"Dr. Brennan – just let him go," Lance advised.

"I suppose you're right. Booth needs some time to gather his thoughts and blow up gas," she agreed.

"I think you mean 'blow off steam'," he said. "Anyway, I'm not sure you really see where Booth's coming from."

"Yes I do. He has the belief, like the majority of the population, that marriage is the ultimate way of professing love to someone you're romantically involved with," Brennan replied.

"Right. But there's more to it than that. It goes deeper than that for Booth," Lance said.

"I don't understand?" she questioned.

"Okay. Obviously you didn't grow up fantasizing about a white gown and flowers and the man of your dreams. But Booth did – well not exactly, but – guys have fantasies when they're older. Finding the right girl . . . getting the ring . . . coming up with the perfect way to propose . . . seeing that girl walk down the aisle in that amazing dress . . ." he explained. "Booth was turned down twice. Can you see why he didn't want to bring it up – especially to a woman who's extremely opposed to the idea?"

"Of course! His manhood dreams were crushed not once, but twice. He's been figuratively emasculated. I have to go. I have to find Booth!" Brennan said, and left.

"Thank you, Dr. Sweets. Your observations were quite insightful," Lance muttered to himself in frustration.

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Brennan approached Booth at a table in Founding Fathers. He was nursing a beer, silently brooding over their fight. She sat down opposite him, and even though he had made no attempt to acknowledge her presence, she spoke anyway.

"I have . . . truly loved someone. Honestly, I've only truly loved one person. I fought it . . . Everyone in my life who's loved me has left me in one way or another. I couldn't trust myself not to run away from a relationship if I got scared . . . I could explain scientific theories and anthropology and logic, but I couldn't love . . . I didn't know how. You taught me. You taught me how to love. And I love you, Seeley Booth. I don't need a piece of paper or rings or a delegated official to prove that . . . but I understand that you do. You need that, because that's what you've always believed. And I respect it . . . a part of me even wants it just as much as you do. I want you to be happy, and if legalizing our bond and celebrating our love makes you happy, then I want that, too," Brennan confessed. "Plus, there are some financial and household advantages to having a marital status."

"Sweets put you up to this?" Booth assumed, skeptically.

"No! Booth, I'm trying to tell you that I . . . I want to be your wife. I want to be your wife. I never thought I'd say that to any man . . . it goes against all logical scientific reasoning . . . but I don't care," she insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Booth was silent, although an uncontrollable grin developed on his face as soon as he was able to process Brennan's words.

"You've got that look. It's the same look you had when I told you I was pregnant. That's a good thing, right?" Brennan questioned.

He moved his chair next to hers.

"It's a great thing, Bones. A great thing," he assured her, holding her close and kissing the top of her head. "So does this mean I can finally get a ring that won't end up in a pond or a dumpster?"

"I'm open to any part of the ritual that will make you happy," Brennan said.

"Every part," Booth replied. "I'm goin' all out, baby!"

"Do I have to wear a white dress, even though it makes me a hypocrite?" Brennan cringed.

"White, off-white, whatever the hell they call it . . . Yes. But it's not that big of a deal anymore – the whole virgin thing. Plus, I know you'll look hot!" Booth encouraged her.

"Thank you," she said. "But I'm hoping we can wait until after the baby's born. I'd rather not be the ultimate hypocrite."

"Hey, as long as you need, Bones. You've just made me the happiest guy alive, so whatever works for you," he assured her.

"Good," she smiled.

"What do ya say we go home . . . I'll draw us a nice bath . . . pour some sparkling cider . . . and later we can order Chinese and watch the Steelers kick some ass?" Booth suggested, paying the tab and helping her out of her chair.

"I didn't get that 52" flatscreen so you could watch hockey all the time," Brennan teased as they walked out the door. "There's supposed to be a documentary on the Mayan Ruins, tonight."

"Bones – this Steelers game is football history in the making!" Booth whined.

"Okay . . . I'll DVD the documentary," she conceded. "But we have to also discuss name possibilities. We only have a couple more months left."

"Any ideas?" he asked as they got in a cab.

"Well, I'm growing more and more attached to your nickname for her . . . And since I'll be abiding by the traditional rule of changing my last name, I think it would be a way of still keeping it in the bloodline," Brennan said.

Booth's jaw dropped open.

"Y-You wanna take my name?" he repeated.

"Yes – isn't that want you want?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd take this marriage thing that far. I thought you'd be like a lot of the feminist chicks now who insist on keeping their own last name," he said. "It's totally cool if you wanna keep it. Either way, you'd still be my wife."

"No – I said I'd go through with the tradition and I'm not breaking my promise," she insisted.

"Thanks, Bones," he smiled and took her hand, leading her out of the cab. "So, Brennan Booth, huh?"

Brennan laid her head on his shoulder as they walked the final steps to their apartment.

"I think she'll be just like you – all dressed up in a mini squint suit . . . following the Squint Squad around . . . smart and full of weird facts . . ." Booth mused, wrapping his hand around her waist.

"With her quirky striped socks and 'save the world' crime-fighting attitude," Brennan added.

"Yeah," he smiled and stopped as they reached the steps of their building. "Are you happy?"

"Extremely happy," Brennan assured him.

"Me, too, Bones. Me, too," he said, and kissed her ardently.