Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

Temperance Brennan smoothed out the edge of a laminated poster that read Welcome to Room 7 – Miss B's Explorers! She adjusted a small plastic dinosaur on the bookshelf, its tail poking out beside a stack of picture books. The classroom smelled like crayons and disinfectant—strangely comforting.

This wasn't where she thought she'd be after earning two PhDs before the age of thirty. But life had a way of unraveling expectations. After her parents disappeared, she could've gone into forensic anthropology full-time. The job offers were there. But after spending so long surrounded by loss, she chose a different path—one rooted in curiosity, hope, and living minds instead of silent ones.

And children, she had found, were infinitely fascinating.

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until her first batch of kindergarteners would arrive. She took a calming breath just as the door swung open.

A tall man in a black polo shirt and jeans walked in, holding the hand of a bright-eyed little boy with a backpack almost half his size.

"Hey," the man said with a polite smile. "We're early—I'm Seeley Booth, and this is Parker. He's all yours."

Parker looked around the room in awe before grinning. "Hi!"

Temperance crouched to his level. "Hi, Parker. I'm Dr. Brennan. But here at school, you can call me Miss B."

Booth raised a brow. "Doctor?"

"PhDs," she said simply, rising to her feet again. "Anthropology and forensic science."

Booth blinked. "So… what brings you to kindergarten?"

She gave a small smile. "A change of direction."

Booth studied her for a beat longer than necessary, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Well… lucky kids, I guess."

Parker gave a wide grin at being allowed to use a nickname. "Miss B," he echoed, clearly pleased.

Brennan pointed toward the semicircle of miniature desks. "You'll find your name on one of those. There's a cubby beneath it for your backpack."

He ran off with enthusiasm, leaving Brennan and Booth standing near the doorway.

She turned to him, her hands briefly smoothing down the hem of her cardigan—a nervous gesture she hadn't realized she'd picked up from watching other teachers. "I like to give the parents this on the first day." She held out a neatly stapled folder. "It includes the class schedule, rules, recommended reading for parents, and an introduction to my teaching approach."

Booth took the folder, glancing at the cover page. "Structured. I like that."

She nodded once. "Structure is important. Especially at this age."

Booth chuckled, looking back at Parker now fumbling with his cubby. "Yeah, try telling that to him around bedtime."

A pause stretched between them. Brennan suddenly felt the familiar flicker of discomfort—conversations with adults didn't come as easily as lectures or reading from research papers. With children, there was a simplicity. With adults, there were expectations.

She motioned toward the door. "I can walk you out."

Booth followed her. As they reached the threshold, he turned back briefly to watch Parker slide into his seat, already flipping through the picture book she'd left at each desk.

"He seems comfortable," Brennan noted quietly.

"That's not always the case," Booth said, meeting her eyes. "Thanks for making it easy."

She didn't quite know what to say to that, so she gave a small nod.

Booth lingered a beat longer than necessary, his eyes scanning her face with faint curiosity. "So… anthropology and forensics, huh?"

"Yes."

"And you picked kindergarten."

"Yes," she repeated, more firmly.

He smiled, but didn't press further. "Interesting."

Before she could form a reply, he stepped back into the hallway. "See you around, Miss B."

As he disappeared down the hall, Brennan found herself staring at the empty space he'd left behind, brows slightly knit. Interesting, indeed.

Brennan closed the door gently behind Booth, then turned to face her classroom. Parker was still at his desk, legs swinging under his chair, now flipping through the pages of The Magic School Bus Explores the Senses. His lips moved as he read quietly to himself, his concentration impressively focused for a five-year-old.

She made a mental note of that.

Within minutes, the door opened again and again—some students clinging shyly to their parents, others bouncing with excitement. Brennan welcomed each one with a calm smile, gently guiding them to their desks and repeating the same instructions: "Your name is on your desk. Your backpack goes in your cubby. We'll start shortly."

It wasn't long before all eighteen of her students were seated. The room buzzed with the rustle of paper, whispering voices, and the occasional giggle. Brennan stood at the front of the classroom, hands clasped in front of her.

She cleared her throat. The room settled more quickly than she expected.

"Good morning," she began, voice clear but warm. "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan—but here, you can call me Miss B."

A few small hands shot up.

"Yes?" she acknowledged, pointing to a girl with a sparkly headband.

"Why are you a doctor? Are you gonna give us shots?"

There was a ripple of laughter. Brennan's mouth twitched slightly, almost smiling.

"No. I'm not that kind of doctor," she replied. "I went to school for a long time to study science. I used to learn about bones and people from the past. But now I get to learn from you."

Parker raised his hand without waiting to be called on. "That's cool."

She gave a small nod of agreement. "It is."

Brennan picked up a large poster from behind her desk and unrolled it on the whiteboard. It was covered in pictures—an astronaut, a dinosaur, a volcano, and a magnifying glass.

"This year," she said, "we're going to explore the world. We'll ask questions. We'll run experiments. And we'll learn to think like scientists. Because even at five years old, you are capable of understanding amazing things."

One student whispered, "What's an experiment?"

"We'll find out," Brennan said, "starting today."

She handed out small mystery bags to each desk—inside, various objects hidden beneath felt pieces. Buttons, feathers, pennies, and puzzle pieces. She'd prepared them herself, labeling each one Observation Challenge #1.

As the kids opened the bags, eyes widening, Brennan finally allowed herself to relax. This wasn't the Jeffersonian. These weren't forensics labs or criminal investigations.

But this—this was discovery.

And in its own way, it felt like coming home.

The day flowed with more ease than Brennan expected. Her lesson on using observation to describe the world around them had the kids completely engaged—especially Parker.

He raised his hand constantly, not to interrupt, but with thoughtful questions. "If we use our eyes to see, do animals use different things to explore?" Or insightful answers, like when she asked what all scientists have in common, and he replied, "They don't give up."

By lunchtime, she'd written his name in the corner of her notepad with a quiet asterisk. Not because he was her favorite—she didn't believe in that so early—but because there was something undeniably sharp about the way his mind worked. Curious, eager, open. She knew intelligence when she saw it, and Parker Booth had it.

When the final bell rang, the classroom was filled with the excited chatter of parents and kids reuniting. Brennan stood by the door, handing out folders and saying polite goodbyes. Parker bounded up, his backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder.

Booth followed close behind, grinning.

"How'd he do?" he asked, ruffling Parker's hair.

Brennan's face lit up just slightly. "Exceptionally well. He asked thoughtful questions. He made connections most students don't make at this age." She hesitated, then added, "You should be proud. He's—he's very bright."

Booth looked down at Parker, clearly proud but not surprised. "Told you she'd like you, buddy."

Parker turned to Brennan, suddenly animated. "Daddy, can Miss B come to ice cream with us?"

Booth raised his eyebrows. "Ice cream?"

"It's our first-day-of-school tradition," Parker explained. "Every year. Ice cream. You said we could get chocolate-strawberry twist!"

Brennan blinked, thrown by the invitation. "Oh. That's… sweet of you, but I don't want to intrude."

Booth looked at her, amused. "It's just ice cream. And Parker clearly wants his teacher there."

Parker nodded solemnly, as if this were a matter of high importance. "You gotta come, Miss B. You're part of today too."

She opened her mouth to protest again, but stopped.

They were both looking at her with the same warm, earnest expression—different, of course, but disarming in a way she hadn't expected. For the first time in a long while, someone wanted her around just because.

She exhaled quietly. "Alright. Ice cream."

Parker let out a victorious cheer.

Booth smirked. "Chocolate-strawberry twists it is."

Chapter Text

Brennan stood in the center of her classroom, carefully restocking the observation kits and straightening the edges of the activity table even though everything was already tidy. She told herself and Booth she needed to reset the room for the next day before she met them for ice cream. But really… she was stalling.

It's just ice cream.

Still, there was a flutter in her chest she couldn't quite name—tight, nervous. She didn't typically socialize with parents. She didn't do casual outings, especially with strangers. But something about Booth—about Parker—had disarmed her in ways she wasn't prepared for.

She glanced at the clock. 3:47.

Get over it, Temperance. It's dessert, not a proposal.

Grabbing her purse and a soft cardigan from the back of her chair, she headed out, determined not to overthink it.

The ice cream shop was cheerful and a bit chaotic—kids shrieking over spilled sprinkles, a line forming at the counter, and the smell of waffle cones wafting through the air. Brennan spotted them at a small corner booth. Parker was swinging his legs under the table, already halfway through a double scoop of twist with rainbow sprinkles. Booth was sipping a milkshake.

Booth looked up and smiled when he saw her.

"You made it."

"Of course," she said, shifting her purse on her shoulder.

Booth stood to give her space to slide in across from Parker. "We weren't sure if you'd change your mind."

"I considered it," she admitted as she sat. "But Parker was persuasive."

Booth chuckled. "He usually is."

She glanced at the counter. "I should probably—"

Before she could finish, Booth stood. "Say no more. Parker, keep Miss B company. I got this."

Once he was gone, Parker leaned forward. "You should try the chocolate-strawberry twist. It's the best. I get it every year."

"Sounds like a tradition," she said.

"It is. Since I was little. Well, littler."

Booth returned with a cone and handed it to her. "Took a wild guess."

She took a cautious bite. "It's… surprisingly good."

Booth leaned back in his seat, watching her with interest. "You don't do this much, do you?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Eat ice cream?"

He laughed. "No—just… relax. Outside of work."

She blinked, unsure how to answer.

Booth didn't push. Instead, he looked down at Parker and lightly tapped the table. "Why don't you grab a few napkins, bud? Before that cone takes over your face."

Parker hopped off the seat and raced to the napkin station.

Booth's voice lowered. "Just wanted to say thanks. For being so good with him. It's been… hard. Since his mom passed away."

Brennan's expression softened, her posture gentling as she instinctively leaned in just slightly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That must be difficult—for both of you."

"Yeah. It's been a couple years, but it still hits him sometimes. Hits me too. But we make it work."

He paused, then added, "You were the first teacher he didn't cry in front of on day one."

Her lips parted in surprise, then curved ever so slightly. "I'm honored."

Booth smiled—tired, but real. "So… maybe this ice cream thing? We make it a little tradition, too." He looked at Parker, and then back at Brennan. "His mom used to do this every year with him, so when she passed I wanted to give him some normalcy. Something he could look forward to."

Before she could respond, Parker plopped back into the seat, napkins in hand and chin already sticky. "I got extra!"

Brennan accepted one and dabbed her fingers, her gaze flicking between father and son. She hadn't expected this—connection, kindness, something warm opening in her chest she couldn't quite explain.

Maybe… maybe ice cream wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue across the parking lot as they stepped out of the ice cream shop, Parker bounding ahead, sticky hands clutching the last of his cone. Brennan walked beside Booth, still quiet but not uncomfortable.

They reached her car—a simple, sensible sedan. Booth paused, looking at it, then at her.

"Parker," he said gently, "why don't you get in our car, bud? I'll be right there."

Parker, clearly still riding a sugar high, nodded and skipped off toward Booth's SUV.

Booth turned back to Brennan, hands tucked in his pockets. "Hey… really. Thanks for coming today. For everything."

"You don't need to thank me," she said softly. "Parker's a remarkable child."

"Yeah, well… he doesn't open up easily. He likes you. That means something."

There was a brief pause between them—warm and weighted. Brennan opened her car door, but before she stepped in, she hesitated. Something tugged at her.

"Booth—" she said, voice quieter now.

He looked at her.

"I'm sorry about Parker's mom."

Booth's expression flickered—grief behind the eyes, quick and subtle. He gave a slight nod. "Thanks."

Brennan looked down for a moment, then met his gaze again. "I get it, though. My parents disappeared when I was fifteen. Just… vanished. For years I refused to believe they were gone, and when I finally accepted it—" She paused, breath catching faintly. "—it nearly destroyed me."

Booth didn't interrupt. He just listened.

"They're the reason I chose this path," she continued. "I had offers—research, labs. But I couldn't handle corpses. Or uncertainty. I needed something alive. Something I could hold onto. Teaching… gave me that."

Booth's eyes softened. "You must be one hell of a teacher."

She gave a small shrug. "I try to be."

There was a quiet moment between them then—no need to fill the space with anything else. Just understanding.

Booth nodded slowly. "I'm glad Parker ended up in your class."

Brennan met his eyes. "So am I."

He gave her a final nod and turned toward his SUV, calling over his shoulder, "See you tomorrow, Miss B."

She watched him go, standing by her car a few seconds longer than necessary, heart tugging in a way she hadn't felt in a very long time.

The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that hummed just under the radio's low murmur. Brennan kept the music on—not loud enough to distract, just enough to fill the empty space. But her thoughts were louder.

Booth.

Parker.

The way Parker's eyes lit up when she praised him.

The way Booth looked at his son, then at her.

Why did she care so much?

By the time she pulled into the lot of her modest apartment building, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in muted purples and oranges. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, keys jingling in her hand, and unlocked the door to stillness.

Her apartment was clean, organized, and quiet. Too quiet.

She dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her shoes, walking into the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. She paused by the counter, staring at nothing in particular.

This wasn't unusual. She lived alone. Always had. It was a choice—one she'd convinced herself she preferred.

But tonight the silence didn't feel peaceful. It felt… lonely.

She sat down on the couch, glass in hand, and tried to focus on anything else. She turned on the TV, flipped through a few stations, but nothing held her attention. Her thoughts kept circling back.

Booth.

His eyes. That smile—grateful, a little sad, a little guarded.

The way he'd said "You must be one hell of a teacher."

It had meant something. Somehow.

And Parker. Bright, inquisitive, full of life. There was something about him that stuck with her.

Brennan set the glass down and leaned back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

It didn't make sense. She was used to control—of her emotions, her routine, her space. But this day, this little boy, and his father… they had started to pull threads loose.

And she didn't know why.

Chapter Text

Booth kept glancing in the rearview mirror on the drive home, watching Parker hum quietly to himself in the backseat, face still streaked with a bit of ice cream he'd missed.

He looked happy. Genuinely happy.

Booth hadn't seen that in a while.

The outing had gone better than he'd expected. When Parker had asked about inviting Miss B, he thought for sure she'd politely decline. Most teachers liked to keep their boundaries. But she'd shown up. Nervous, maybe, but she still came.

And that had meant something—to Parker especially.

Booth pulled into their driveway, the familiar creak of the tires over the gravel comforting in its routine. He got out and helped Parker with his booster belt, watching his son bounce up the steps ahead of him.

"Go wash your hands, buddy," he called as he unlocked the front door. "You look like a walking dessert."

Parker giggled and took off for the bathroom.

Booth stepped inside, set his keys down on the counter, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The house was warm. Lived in. Pictures of Parker lined the hallway. There was a pile of tiny shoes near the door, a forgotten toy under the couch. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs.

He moved around the kitchen, starting Parker's bedtime snack—some fruit slices and half a sandwich—and poured a glass of milk. The routine grounded him.

Parker came back, hands clean, and plopped into the kitchen chair. "Miss B is nice," he said casually between bites.

"Yeah?" Booth leaned on the counter, smiling.

"She knows everything. Like dinosaurs and the moon and books. And she listened when I told her about the Tyrannosaurus having hollow bones. Most grownups don't listen."

Booth's smile faded just a little, replaced by something softer. "She seems pretty special."

"She is."

They finished snack time and brushed teeth, Booth wrangling Parker into pajamas and helping him pick out a bedtime story. It was one of their favorites—something about a spaceship and a brave little explorer.

When Booth tucked Parker in, the boy blinked up at him sleepily. "Are we gonna see Miss B again tomorrow?"

"Yup," Booth said, brushing hair from his son's forehead. "You'll see her in class tomorrow."

Parker grinned. "No, I mean like outside of class! Like at the science museum, wouldn't that be fun?"

Booth kissed his forehead. Laughing a little bit, "Goodnight, Parker."

"'Night, Dad."

He turned off the light and left the door cracked, the faint hallway glow spilling in.

Back in the living room, Booth sank onto the couch with a sigh, letting the quiet settle. His mind drifted to Brennan again. Something about her stuck with him—sharp intellect, calm presence, the way she'd opened up at her car. Vulnerable, but strong. And clearly carrying something heavy behind those clear blue eyes.

Booth rubbed a hand over his face.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not again.

But something about her was different.

And for the first time in a long time, that didn't feel scary.

It felt… possible.

The first thing Booth registered was sunlight.

Too much sunlight.

His eyes flew open, landing on the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock.

7:42 a.m.

He was supposed to be up at 6:30.

"Ah, crap—Parker!"

He bolted upright, the blankets tangling around his legs as he scrambled out of bed. His phone was dead—must've fallen off the charger again. Of course.

He rushed down the hallway, throwing open Parker's door. "Buddy, up! We overslept!"

Parker stirred under his covers, blinking at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"School, man! It's almost 8—we gotta hustle!"

Suddenly fully awake, Parker shot upright like a missile. "Oh no! I can't be late on the second day!"

"Exactly!" Booth was already halfway to the kitchen, grabbing Pop-Tarts and tossing them on the counter. "Get dressed, quick! Backpack's by the door!"

Back in his own room, Booth yanked on jeans and a clean T-shirt, swiped deodorant under his arms, and debated whether his hair was worth fixing—then grabbed a ball cap and called it good.

Parker was rushing down the hall a minute later, shirt backward, mismatched socks, shoes in hand.

"You look great, kid," Booth said with a grin as he handed him the Pop-Tarts. "Breakfast of champions. We'll fix the socks in the car."

They made it out the door by 8:06, Booth juggling his coffee, Parker's folder, and car keys all at once. By the time they were in the car and buckled, both were breathing hard—half stressed, half laughing.

Parker looked at him mid-bite. "Do you think Miss B will be mad?"

Booth glanced at his son, heart softening. "Nah, not mad. Probably just… a little disappointed."

Parker's face fell.

"But hey," Booth added quickly, "you're still gonna walk in with your head held high and that cool Parker charm. She won't stay disappointed for long."

Parker cracked a smile. "Okay. But next time… we set two alarms."

Booth grinned. "Deal."

Brennan stood at the classroom door, watching the trickle of students make their way inside. Parents waved from the hallway, kids hurried to their desks, and the familiar rustle of backpacks and soft chatter filled the room like a rising tide.

But no Parker.

She glanced at the clock for the third time.

8:14.

He wasn't late enough to call the office. Not yet. But something about his absence tugged at her. He'd been so enthusiastic the day before, so full of questions and answers and light. It didn't make sense for him not to be here on time.

She moved back toward her desk, trying to focus on organizing the morning activity bins.

But her mind was elsewhere.

Her hand hovered over a stack of worksheets as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. She looked up just in time to see Parker round the corner, slightly disheveled but smiling—his backpack bouncing and his shirt still a little crooked. Booth was right behind him, cap on, breathless.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

They made it.

Parker gave her a sheepish little wave. "Sorry we're late, Miss B. Dad's alarm didn't go off."

Booth stopped at the door, hand braced against the frame, catching his breath. "Total user error," he added. "Definitely my fault. We're usually more on top of things than this."

Brennan smiled—just a little, soft at the edges. "It happens."

She knelt to Parker's level and gently tugged his shirt around the right way. "Now you're all set. Go find your seat—we're just about to start morning circle."

Parker grinned and scampered off.

Booth lingered a second longer, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "For not giving him a hard time."

Brennan stood, smoothing her skirt. "There's no need. He's a bright kid. I'm glad he's here."

Booth looked at her then, really looked—like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite crack. "You're not what I expected in a kindergarten teacher."

She tilted her head. "I get that a lot."

He chuckled under his breath, then nodded toward the classroom. "I'll… let you get to it."

She watched him go, something about his presence lingering longer than it should.

The final bell rang, and Brennan stood by the classroom door as parents trickled in. Kids laughed and hugged their teachers goodbye, their energy bursting after a full day of structure.

Parker was one of the last students still gathering his things, carefully sliding his folder into his backpack as Booth appeared at the door—this time not breathless, but clearly looking for her.

"Hey," he said with a grin, eyes landing on Brennan first before finding Parker.

She nodded politely. "Hi."

Parker rushed over and hugged her leg. "Bye, Miss B! Today was fun. I liked the space book."

"I'm glad," she said, smiling softly. "You asked some very insightful questions."

Booth stepped closer as Parker darted over to the reading corner to grab a paper rocket he'd forgotten. "So… I was thinking," he started, voice low, almost casual. "Parker was talking about a science museum he wants to check out—something about dinosaurs and stars. I told him I'd take him sometime."

She nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then added, "You seem like someone who knows a lot about… well, pretty much everything. Would you maybe wanna join us? You know, in case he asks any questions I can't answer."

Brennan blinked. "You're inviting me to a science museum… as your son's academic backup?"

Booth smirked. "Something like that."

She hesitated. "I'm not sure that would be… appropriate. You're a parent."

"Right. Of course." He held up his hands. "No pressure. Just figured he'd love to show you his favorite exhibits. And you'd probably make the place sound cooler than the signs on the walls do."

She considered that for a beat.

Before she could respond, Parker returned, rocket in hand. "Can we go soon, Dad? Maybe this weekend?"

Booth glanced at Brennan, then back at his son. "We'll see, buddy."

Parker turned to her, hopeful. "Would you come with us, Miss B?"

She looked between the two of them, still unsure why her stomach flipped at the idea. But something in Parker's earnest expression—and the quiet hope behind Booth's eyes—made her nod.

"I'll think about it."

Booth gave her that boyish grin again—the one that made her suspicious of his motives.

She tilted her head, arms folding lightly. "Are you using Parker as a way to guilt trip me into going?"

Booth didn't even try to hide it. He gave her a slow, charming smile and leaned just a little closer.

"Is it working?"

She blinked once, lips twitching despite herself. "I'll let you know, Mr. Booth," she replied smoothly, before turning back toward the classroom.

He watched her walk inside, the soft click of the door closing behind her echoing in his ears.

Booth exhaled slowly, still standing there in the empty hallway.

He had no idea what just happened. Or how she was doing this to him.

But damn… he wasn't sure he wanted it to stop.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Brennan stood still for a second, her back to the wood, heart lightly thudding in her chest.

She'd meant it as a joke—half a challenge, half curiosity. But the way he looked at her… there was no mistaking the spark in his eyes or the heat behind that smirk.

Is it working? She couldn't get his words out of her head or how he whispered them to her. It reminded her of a feeling she hadn't felt in a while.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and crossed the room slowly, her mind suddenly a swirl of thoughts that had nothing to do with lesson plans or seating charts. She'd handled plenty of charming people before, and yet… something about Seeley Booth was different.

She told herself it was just because he was Parker's father. That it was normal to feel… intrigued.

Still, she caught herself smiling as she picked up a stack of worksheets from her desk.

"I'll let you know, Mr. Booth," she whispered under her breath, as she replayed the last words she said to him; shaking her head and placing the papers down a little too hard.

Whatever this was… she wasn't ready to name it. But she also wasn't ready to walk away from it.

Not yet.

The next morning, Brennan stood at her classroom door, greeting students as they arrived with sleepy smiles and half-finished breakfast bars in hand. She glanced at her watch—7:59 a.m.—then looked up just in time to see Booth and Parker walking up the hallway.

On time. Barely.

Parker looked bright-eyed and freshly combed. Booth… well, he looked like he'd sprinted the last ten steps and tried to make it look casual.

"You're early," Brennan said with a raised eyebrow as they stopped in front of her. "Should I call the local news?"

Booth gave her a crooked grin. "What can I say? I live to impress."

She fought a smile, standing aside so Parker could head in. "Well, color me impressed, Mr. Booth."

Parker skipped off toward his desk, waving back. Booth lingered just a second longer than necessary.

Brennan crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "You're not going to use punctuality as your new flirting technique, are you?"

He stepped back slowly, still wearing that grin. "Is it working?"

She smirked, just slightly. "I'll let you know."

Booth took a step back, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering for a beat before he nodded. "Have a good day, Miss B."

"You too, Mr. Booth."

She turned and walked back into the room, and Booth didn't move until the door closed behind her. He exhaled slowly, again.

It was going to be a long day.

Booth swiped his badge and stepped into the FBI building, the usual buzz of agents, analysts, and paperwork swirling around him. The familiar scent of coffee and copier paper greeted him as he made his way toward his office.

"Booth!" Agent Jameson called as he passed. "You've got that 10 a.m. briefing with the task force."

Booth nodded, tossing a casual salute. "Wouldn't miss it."

He ducked into his office and dropped his bag on the chair. Normally, he'd already be thinking about suspects or strategy—but today, his mind was stuck two hours behind… in a brightly lit kindergarten classroom.

Are you using Parker to guilt trip me into going?

Is it working?

He grinned to himself, sitting down and pulling up a case file. It wasn't like him to get distracted. Especially not by a woman. But Temperance Brennan had gotten under his skin faster than he liked to admit. Smart, quick-witted, and surprisingly warm beneath her layers of precision and control.

And the way she looked at Parker—like she saw him. Not just his behavior or grades, but him. That did something to Booth. Something dangerous.

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Get it together," he muttered under his breath, but the smile lingered.

A knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.

Agent Shaw poked her head in. "You coming to the briefing or just planning to flirt with someone in your head all morning?"

Booth rolled his eyes, grabbing the file. "I multitask."

She smirked and disappeared down the hall.

As he followed, Booth knew one thing for sure: this year, kindergarten was going to be a lot more interesting than he'd ever expected.

Brennan crouched next to Parker's desk, gently tapping her finger against the edge of his workbook.

"Excellent, Parker. You used context clues to figure out the word. That's impressive."

Parker beamed. "You said context clues are like detective tools, so I used them like one!"

She gave a small, proud smile. "You're quite the detective, then."

As she stood, Brennan looked out at the rest of the class—heads bent, crayons scribbling, soft murmurs filling the air. This was her element. Structured chaos, learning in motion. She'd chosen this path for its order, its innocence, its hope. And yet… lately, a certain tie-wearing FBI agent kept pulling her thoughts elsewhere.

She turned back to the whiteboard, brushing chalk dust off her fingers. A girl in the front row raised her hand.

"Yes, Harper?"

Harper grinned. "Miss B, do you like mysteries?"

The question caught Brennan slightly off guard—but in a good way. She tilted her head.

"I do, actually. Why?"

"Because Parker said his dad solves them! And now you're helping us with clues too."

Brennan smiled, walking toward the front of the room. "Well, I guess that makes all of us a classroom of detectives today."

The kids giggled, and Parker gave her a proud thumbs-up from his desk.

As she turned back to the whiteboard, Brennan found herself smiling again—just a little softer, a little longer than she usually allowed.

This year might be unpredictable, but for the first time in a while… she didn't mind that one bit.

The final bell rang, and the classroom buzzed with energy as little feet scrambled to pack up backpacks and grab lunchboxes. Brennan moved between desks, offering reminders and helping zipper coats. As the last few students trickled out, she looked up to see Booth in the doorway, a warm smile on his face and his tie slightly loosened like he'd had a long day already.

Parker spotted him instantly. "Dad!"

Booth knelt as Parker barreled into him. "Hey, buddy. Good day?"

Parker nodded. "Miss B said I'm a detective now."

Booth glanced up at Brennan, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Brennan crossed her arms, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "He earned it. Context clues and everything."

Booth stood, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer than it needed to. "Sounds like I've got some competition."

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "I think you'll manage."

Booth reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen. "Hey, just in case…" He scribbled something quickly, then tore the page off and handed it to her. "If you decide you want to come. No pressure."

She glanced at the slip of paper. His name. His number. A small smiley face doodled in the corner, probably for Parker's benefit—but maybe not entirely.

Booth gave a little nod, resting a hand on Parker's shoulder. "C'mon, pal. Let's go home."

Parker waved. "Bye, Miss B!"

As they walked away, Brennan stood by the doorway, the paper still warm in her hand. She didn't know why her heart beat a little faster. But as she slipped the number into her desk drawer, she didn't throw it away either.

Chapter Text

Brennan's Apartment – Later That Evening

The apartment was quiet, the soft hum of her fish tank the only sound in the room. Brennan sat cross-legged on her couch, a book open in her lap but completely ignored. Her phone rested on the coffee table, screen dark.

Her eyes kept drifting to it.

She had picked it up at least five times, typed out three different versions of a message, and deleted them all. "Thanks again for the invite." "Maybe next time?" "Hope Parker had a good night."

None of them felt… right.

It was irrational. She was a scientist. She had faced skeletal remains and violent death scenes. But something about the idea of opening this door with Booth felt different. Unfamiliar. Dangerous, even.

She reached forward, turned her phone over screen-down, and forced her attention back to the book. She didn't send anything.

Booth's Apartment – Same Night

Booth leaned against the kitchen counter, a spoon in one hand, absentmindedly stirring the mac and cheese on the stove. Parker was in the living room humming to himself, building something with his legos.

Booth's eyes flicked to his phone on the counter.

Still nothing.

He picked it up, unlocked it, refreshed his messages. Nothing new. He hadn't expected her to say yes right away, but… he'd hoped. Just something. Even a "no thanks." At least then he'd know.

He sighed, turned the burner off, and forced himself to focus on dinner. Maybe tomorrow.

Next Morning – School Drop-Off

The school parking lot was buzzing with morning chatter and goodbyes. Booth walked Parker to the classroom, coffee in hand, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Brennan was by the door greeting her students, a smile ready for each one.

Booth waited until Parker ran inside, then stepped closer.

"You know," he said casually, "I checked my phone like… twelve times last night."

She turned to him, blinking. "For what?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Your text. I gave you my number. You didn't use it."

Brennan's mouth curved into a soft, amused smile. "I didn't realize there was a rule about how quickly one has to text a person."

Booth chuckled. "There's not. Just figured you'd want to."

"I thought about it," she admitted, glancing at him briefly. "But I decided to wait."

Booth leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "And are you still waiting?"

She gave him a measured look. "I guess you'll find out."

And with that, she turned and walked into the classroom, calling out a cheerful "Good morning" to her students.

Booth stood there for a moment, grinning to himself.

Yeah. He was definitely in trouble.

FBI Headquarters – Late Morning

Booth sat at his desk, half-listening as Agent Shaw briefed him on a new case file. His eyes kept darting toward his phone sitting face-up beside his coffee. He hadn't meant to be this distracted, but something about her—her wit, her presence, the way she carried herself—was still buzzing in the back of his mind.

"She's something else, huh?" Shaw said, noticing the grin Booth didn't even realize had formed on his face.

Booth cleared his throat. "Who?"

"Whoever's got your head in the clouds."

He was about to deny it when his phone lit up.

New Message: Unknown Number

Figured I'd text you before you have an aneurysm or something.

Booth's smile widened instantly.

He quickly tapped out a reply:

Appreciate the concern. I was just about to start planning my funeral.

He paused, then added:

Glad you texted, Miss B. Made my day.

He leaned back in his chair, finally feeling like he could focus—at least a little.

The classroom was quiet for the first time all day. Brennan sat at her desk with a salad in front of her and her planner open beside it, half-covered in colorful sticky notes and reminders. She'd graded two spelling quizzes, organized a math game for tomorrow, and still couldn't get one annoying, persistent thought out of her mind:

Booth.

Specifically, Booth's face when she hadn't texted him.

She could practically hear him muttering about it to himself, pacing in that probably-too-small FBI office, checking his phone like a teenager. The thought made her lips twitch.

She glanced at her phone. His number was still sitting in her contacts, unsent message draft long deleted.

Still, she picked it up, opened a blank message, hesitated for one second longer than she'd admit—and typed:

Figured I'd text you before you have an aneurysm or something.

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it.

Immediately, her heart rate spiked. Why? It was just a text. A casual one. Playful, even. Not flirty.

Right?

The phone buzzed back quicker than she expected.

Appreciate the concern. I was just about to start planning my funeral.

Glad you texted, Miss B. Made my day.

Brennan stared at the screen, a small laugh escaping her. She tucked her phone under a stack of folders and shook her head, trying to focus on her lunch again.

But the smile lingered.

Back in the Classroom – Brennan's POV

She read Booth's message again. "Made my day."

No one had said that to her in a long time. Maybe ever.

She sighed, pushed her salad away, and reached for her phone again.

I'm not saying I'm coming…

She paused, smirked, then added:

But if I were, what time are you planning on going to the museum?

The reply came almost instantly.

We were thinking around 3. Parker's been talking about the dinosaur exhibit nonstop.

Then another message:

He'll be thrilled if you come. So will I.

Brennan stared at that last line. Her stomach did a strange flip.

After a long moment, she typed back:

Alright. I'll meet you there.

She hit send before she could regret it. Then she leaned back in her chair and muttered to herself:

"Just a casual outing. With a student. And his father. Who happens to be infuriatingly charming."

The bell rang, and her students began to trickle in.

But she couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Brennan stood just inside the entrance of the museum, tickets in hand, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other. She had arrived fifteen minutes early—typical. The museum lobby was buzzing with school groups and families, and she found herself scanning every face that walked through the glass doors.

This was… not a date.

Not really.

She had just made a spontaneous decision to join a student and his father on an educational outing. That was all.

Still, she'd bought the tickets without thinking, as if that would somehow make it less nerve-wracking when they arrived.

And then, she saw them—Booth in a dark t-shirt and jeans, Parker bouncing excitedly beside him with a dinosaur cap slightly askew on his head.

"Miss B!" Parker waved and sprinted the last few steps.

Booth followed behind, eyebrows rising when he saw her standing there with three tickets in hand.

"You beat us here," he said, grinning. "And bought the tickets?"

She handed one to Parker, then Booth. "It seemed logical. I arrived first, and I wanted to avoid the line."

Booth shook his head, smiling with a mix of amusement and admiration. "Well, since you paid for this, I get to pay for dinner."

Brennan blinked. "Dinner?"

"Yeah," he said, hands in his pockets. "It's only fair. Unless you're scared to spend more time with us."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said quickly—too quickly.

Booth's smile turned into something softer, a little more intrigued. "Good. Because Parker and I are excellent company."

Parker tugged her hand. "Come on, Miss B! I want to show you the stegosaurus!"

She let herself be led, her hand still warm from his, and Booth fell into step beside her. For the first time in a while, she didn't feel so guarded.

Maybe this was just an outing.

But maybe… it could be more.

"Okay, so that's a Triceratops, right?" Parker asked, pointing at the massive skull mounted on the wall.

"Correct," Brennan said, crouching beside him. "Do you know what the name means?"

"Uh… something about three?"

"Exactly. Tri- means three, and -ceratops means horned face in Greek. So it's literally 'three-horned face.'"

Booth trailed a few steps behind, watching the two of them with quiet amazement. Brennan was completely focused on Parker, kneeling to his level, answering every question without talking down to him—even challenging him in a way Booth had never seen outside of their home.

Parker soaked it up like a sponge, his eyes wide with curiosity. And Brennan… she wasn't just tolerating it. She loved it. Her eyes lit up with each new explanation. She smiled when Parker made a connection or asked a question she hadn't expected.

At one point, Parker grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a display on prehistoric sea creatures. She didn't hesitate. Just followed, as though she'd been doing it for years.

Booth rubbed the back of his neck, watching them.

It hit him then—how rare this was. Not just someone being nice to his kid. But someone who saw Parker for exactly who he was. Curious. Smart. Sensitive. And treated him like that mattered.

It wasn't just kindness.

It was care.

She didn't even know she was doing it—but Booth did. And it made something shift in his chest.

They rounded a corner and Parker excitedly waved him forward. "Dad! Come see! Miss B says this giant turtle could eat a whole watermelon!"

Booth grinned, walking toward them.

He couldn't quite explain the feeling.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something he hadn't realized he needed.

The sky had started to dim as Booth, Brennan, and Parker stepped out of the museum. Parker was still chattering about the dinosaur exhibit, though his words were starting to slur with exhaustion.

Booth glanced down at his son, who clung to his hand with a yawn.

Brennan noticed. "He's barely keeping his eyes open."

Booth nodded with a small laugh. "Yeah, I think dinner out might be too much after all that exploring." He opened the back door of the SUV, helped Parker into his booster seat, and within minutes, the little boy was fast asleep.

Booth shut the door gently and turned to Brennan, who stood by the passenger side, watching.

"Change of plans," he said, stepping closer. "How do you feel about homemade dinner?"

Brennan blinked. "You're inviting me to your home?"

"Well… yeah. I was gonna take you out, but…" He motioned to the backseat with a fond smile. "Dad life. He's out cold. I can put him to bed and whip something up. Nothing fancy, but edible."

She hesitated. "You don't have to do that just because I came to the museum."

"I want to," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "Besides, you impressed the heck out of Parker today. And me, too. It'd be nice to sit and talk without the T. rex looming over us."

Brennan glanced at her car a few spots away and gave a small nod. "Okay. I'll meet you there then?"

Booth smiled, heart skipping a beat. "Yeah. I'll text you the address."

She returned the smile, then added playfully, "This better be good, Mr. Booth. I'm very picky."

He chuckled. "Challenge accepted, Miss B."

They parted ways, both feeling a little lighter than they had earlier that morning.

Brennan arrived at Booth's house just ten minutes after he did, greeted by the porch light already on and the front door cracked open for her.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet as he opened the door wider. "Come in—sorry if it's a little messy. I didn't exactly plan for guests."

She stepped inside, taking in the warm, lived-in space. It was cozy, with signs of Parker scattered everywhere—crayon drawings on the fridge, a miniature soccer ball by the couch, a stack of bedtime books near the hallway.

"I like it," Brennan said sincerely. "It feels like a home."

Booth gave her a smile before motioning down the hall. "I just need a minute to get Parker settled."

She nodded, watching him disappear with his son—who was half-asleep on his shoulder, murmuring something about dinosaurs.

From where she stood, Brennan could hear the low, soothing tones of Booth's voice as he read aloud. She drifted closer, stopping just out of view in the hallway, listening.

"…and then the little explorer found the star he'd been wishing on. And he knew everything was going to be okay."

There was a pause. Then a gentle kiss on Parker's forehead. "Goodnight, buddy. Love you."

Brennan stepped back just in time for Booth to come around the corner. His sleeves were rolled up now, hair slightly mussed, but there was a softness in his eyes she hadn't seen before.

"You're really good with him," she said, voice quiet.

Booth shrugged a little, sheepish. "He makes it easy most days. Others… well, it's just us now, you know? I try to be the best I can."

Brennan nodded, something catching in her chest. "You do, I can see it in Parker. You love him—and he knows it. That's… rare."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them changed—something heavier, more meaningful settling in.

Booth cleared his throat, gesturing toward the kitchen. "So. Dinner? I hope you like spaghetti. It's my one guaranteed success."

She followed him with a soft smile. "Spaghetti sounds perfect."

The kitchen was warm and smelled of garlic, tomatoes, and something surprisingly comforting. Brennan sat at the small kitchen table, watching Booth move with ease around the space. He was focused, a little bit clumsy but endearing as he stirred the sauce and added a pinch of seasoning.

"Is this your specialty?" she asked, her voice soft as she leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't help but watch how naturally he moved around the kitchen, like it was a place he belonged.

Booth glanced over his shoulder with a smile. "One of them, yeah. Parker likes it, so I figured it was a safe bet."

Brennan tilted her head, studying him as he worked. There was something undeniably attractive about him in this setting—the way he could juggle tasks with ease, the confidence he had in his own space. She didn't often get to see him this relaxed, not in the hustle of his job or the tension of his role as a father.

"You're good at this," she said, her words genuine.

He chuckled, reaching for the pasta pot. "I mean, I'm not winning any culinary awards, but I can feed us. That's the important part."

"Being able to feed your family is more important than awards," Brennan agreed. "You're a good father, Booth."

Booth froze for a moment, his back to her. She couldn't see his face, but the shift in the atmosphere was palpable. He didn't say anything at first, just continued stirring the sauce, his movements a little more deliberate.

"Thanks," he finally said, his voice quieter. "It's not always easy. But Parker… he makes it worth it."

Brennan's heart softened, the warmth in her chest spreading to her arms. She hadn't meant to make him feel vulnerable, but she was glad she had—she admired him for it. For doing everything he did, every day, without complaint.

"I think it's hard for anyone to see how much you give until they see you in your element," she added softly. "And I'm seeing it tonight. I didn't know what to expect when I said yes to dinner."

Booth looked over his shoulder at her, their eyes locking for a moment. His smile was small but warm. "I'm glad you're here."

Brennan returned the smile, heart fluttering a little. "Me too."

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, with Booth finishing up the dinner and Brennan offering a light-hearted comment here and there. When everything was ready, they moved to the table to eat. The conversation flowed easily, and there was an unspoken warmth between them that neither had expected when they first met.

After a few bites of the pasta, Brennan let out a small sigh of contentment. "Okay, I'll admit it. This is really good."

Booth raised an eyebrow, grinning. "You didn't believe me?"

She smiled back, shrugging. "I just wasn't sure. You're a bit of an enigma, Mr. Booth."

"Guess you'll have to figure me out," he replied, his tone playful.

She took another bite of the pasta, savoring the flavor. "I think I'm doing just fine."

The easy banter continued as the night stretched on, and as they finished the meal, Booth helped Brennan clear the table. When they were done, he offered to walk her to her car.

They stood in the doorway for a moment, the soft glow of the porch light illuminating their faces. Booth hesitated for just a second before speaking again.

"Thanks for coming tonight," he said, his voice quieter now. "It means a lot to me."

Brennan's heart skipped a beat, and she found herself unable to look away from his gaze. "You're welcome. I'm glad I came."

The air between them seemed to shift once again, something lingering there—an unspoken possibility. Neither of them said anything else, but the moment felt significant, even if they couldn't quite explain why.

Booth finally broke the silence with a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Yeah," Brennan replied softly. "Tomorrow."

As she walked to her car, her mind was buzzing. She had no idea where this connection with Booth was going, but she couldn't deny that it was something real.

And that thought was enough to make her smile to herself as she drove home.

Chapter Text

Brennan's Apartment – Late Night

Brennan was sitting on her couch, her phone resting in her hand. She'd thought about it a few times since leaving Booth's house, and finally decided to send him a quick message.

She typed out a text, then hesitated before hitting send. It felt a little personal, but it was sincere. She pressed her thumb down on the send button.

Brennan: Thanks again for dinner tonight. It was really nice. I had a good time.

She set her phone down on the coffee table, but her eyes kept flicking to it. A few moments later, it buzzed.

Booth: I'm glad you came. I was worried you might back out last minute.

Brennan smiled to herself at his words. She wasn't sure why, but she liked the idea of him waiting for her response. She quickly typed back.

Brennan: You really think I would back out?

Booth: You never know with me. I can be pretty convincing when I need to be.

Brennan raised an eyebrow at his message. There was a hint of something playful in his words, a challenge of sorts. She found herself typing before thinking too much about it.

Brennan: I'm not so easily convinced, Mr. Booth.

There was a brief pause before Booth responded. When he did, she couldn't help but grin.

Booth: Oh, I see. You're tough, huh?

Brennan: Only when I need to be.

Booth: Good to know. Maybe I'll have to work a little harder to impress you next time.

Her heart skipped a beat. The banter was light, but something about it felt… different. She wasn't sure what it was, but she found herself wanting to keep this conversation going. She glanced at the phone and typed her response.

Brennan: I'm sure you'll find a way. You seem to be good at that.

Another short pause, but then his text came in.

Booth: You're not making this easy, are you?

Brennan: I never said I would.

Booth: I like a good challenge.

Brennan couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. She looked at the phone again and felt a little nervous, but the smile on her face couldn't be denied. She decided to go a little bolder.

Brennan: You know, you've got a way with words. I'm starting to think you might be winning me over.

Booth's response was quick, almost as if he had been waiting for that opening.

Booth: Winning you over, huh? Well, I think I'm off to a good start then.

Brennan: I never said it was easy to win me over, though.

Booth: I like a challenge. It makes the reward that much sweeter.

Brennan's breath hitched a little as she read his message. There was something so direct about it, so confident, but without being overbearing. She found herself responding with a flirty tone.

Brennan: You're bold, Mr. Booth. I'll give you that.

Booth: Only when I need to be. But if it makes you smile, it's worth it.

Her heart fluttered at his words. He wasn't just flirting—he was being genuine, and it was making her feel something she didn't quite know how to process. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, then she typed.

Brennan: Well, you've certainly made an impression. I'll give you that.

Booth: You're making this easy now. I'll take that as a win.

Brennan: We'll see about that next time.

Booth: Looking forward to it. And hey… if you're free this weekend, maybe we can grab a coffee?

Brennan smiled as she read the text. She hadn't expected him to ask her out so soon, but the invitation felt right. She could feel her own pulse quickening with anticipation as she typed out her response.

Brennan: Coffee sounds nice. I'll think about it.

Booth's reply came quickly.

Booth: I'll hold you to that. Can't wait to see what you decide.

Brennan: I guess we'll find out soon enough.

She set the phone down and leaned back on the couch, a contented smile playing at her lips. The conversation had left her heart racing a little, and she couldn't quite explain the feelings bubbling up inside her.

It felt like something was starting to shift between them—something more than just the easygoing connection they'd shared so far. The excitement was undeniable.

The final bell had just rung, and students began pouring out of the building, laughter and backpacks bouncing as they ran toward waiting parents. Booth stood near the fence, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the front doors.

When Brennan stepped out with Parker beside her, she gave him a polite smile. Parker ran ahead with a grin and hugged his dad.

"Hey, buddy! Good day?" Booth asked, ruffling his hair.

"Yeah! We did a science project. Dr. Brennan helped!"

Booth glanced up at her, that same warm smile tugging at his lips. "Of course she did."

As Parker darted toward the car, Brennan handed Booth his folder and stood beside him for a moment. There was an almost tangible hum in the air between them.

"I, uh," Booth started, keeping his voice casual, "I found a sitter for Parker. You know—for this weekend. Just in case you decided you were free for that coffee."

Brennan raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Booth. I never actually agreed."

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice, that confident sparkle in his eye. "No… but you will."

Her breath caught slightly at the boldness of it—he was standing so close, voice low and smooth, almost brushing her ear with the words. Before she could reply, he flashed her that grin and stepped back.

"See you tomorrow, Dr. B," he said lightly, turning to head toward his SUV with Parker.

She stood frozen for a beat, a smile slowly curling on her lips as she watched him go.

Damn him.

Brennan sat at her desk, grading sight word assessments and trying to focus—but her mind kept drifting back to the way Booth had leaned in, voice low and teasing: "But you will."

Her phone buzzed.

Booth: So… did my whispering work?

She stared at the screen, lips twitching.

Brennan: You're very confident in your persuasive skills, Mr. Booth.

Booth: Only when I know I'm right.

She hesitated for a moment, then typed:

Brennan: If I agree to coffee, it's because I choose to. Not because of whispered manipulation.

Booth: Fair enough. So… you're choosing to?

Brennan: Still under review.

Booth: That's not a no.

Brennan: Neither is it a yes.

Booth sent a smirking emoji, and then:

Booth: I'll give you until tonight. Then I'm sending Parker to ask again, and you won't say no to him.

She couldn't help it—she laughed. And just before she left the classroom, she typed one more message.

Brennan: You're relentless.

Booth: Only when something's worth it.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Brennan's apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of her kettle. Brennan sat cross-legged on her couch, laptop open, papers half-graded. Her phone sat next to her—still and silent, yet somehow distracting.

She grabbed it before she could change her mind and tapped Angela's name. Brennan had to admit when things got hard she liked talking to her best friend. Meeting Angela in college, changed Brennan's point of view about people.

It rang twice when Angela picked up,"Hey, stranger! What's up?"

Brennan asked, "Are you busy?"

"Nope. Just sketching. Why, what's going on? You sound weird." Angela stated, putting down her sketchpad and pencil.

Brennan sighed. "I met someone."

There was a long beat of silence, then—"What?! You're gonna need to back up and start from the beginning."

"I wasn't looking. You know I wasn't. He's just… Parker's dad. One of my students' fathers."

Angela whistled. "Teacher-parent romance? Spicy."

"It's not like that. I mean—it's not not like that. He's… very persistent. He asked me to coffee."

Angela grinned on the other end. "And?"

"I haven't said yes yet."

"Do you want to?"

Brennan hesitated. "He makes me… feel something I haven't in a long time. He's kind. And Parker is brilliant. But it's… complicated. He's a single father. His wife passed away. And I'm not used to someone like him. He's—"

"Warm? Charming? Makes you blush and forget how to form a complete sentence?" Angela interrupted.

"…yes," Brennan admitted softly.

Angela let out a soft chuckle. "Sweetie, say yes to the coffee. It's just coffee. You never know what could come of it."

Brennan glanced at the message thread still open on her phone.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

Angela's voice softened. "Of what?"

"…That it could mean something."

There was a beat of silence, then Angela replied gently, "Then that's exactly why you should go."

Brennan stared at her phone long after the call ended. Angela's words echoed in her mind.

"Then that's exactly why you should go."

Before she could second-guess herself, she opened the thread with Booth and typed.

Brennan: Okay. Coffee.

She hovered for a second… then hit send.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Booth: You won't regret it.

She smiled despite herself.

Brennan: Don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Booth.

Booth: Too late. I'm already picking out the perfect table. No pressure.

Brennan: This isn't a date.

Booth: Of course not. Just two adults drinking coffee. You know, while I try to impress you.

Brennan: You really don't have to try so hard.

Booth: So you're saying I'm already winning?

Brennan: I'm saying… goodnight, Seeley.

Booth: Goodnight, Temperance.

She set her phone down, heart fluttering just enough to make her shake her head and laugh at herself. Just coffee, she reminded herself.

But a part of her knew—this was the beginning of something.

Brennan stood by the door, greeting students as they arrived. Parker was one of the last to come bouncing down the hallway, Booth trailing behind with a coffee in one hand and that familiar smirk in place.

"On time again," Brennan teased as Parker hurried past her into the classroom.

Booth held out the coffee like an offering. "I bribed him with the promise of dinosaurs on TV tonight. Works every time."

She took the coffee with a raised eyebrow. "Bribery and parenting. A noble combination."

Booth leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "I prefer to call it tactical motivation. But I'm sure I'll learn the official term from you over coffee."

"You're very confident I'll still show up," she said, narrowing her eyes at him playfully.

He smiled, leaning even closer now. "Let's just say I have a good feeling about you, Miss Brennan."

Her breath caught slightly at the way he said it—low, warm, and sincere.

"I'll let you know if I decide to crush that confidence," she replied smoothly, stepping back into the doorway.

"Crush away," he said with a wink. "I'll just keep showing up."

She shook her head with a small smile as she disappeared into the classroom, but her heart was racing just a little faster.

Booth stepped into the bullpen, tossing his jacket over the back of his chair. He tried to shake off the grin that was still hanging on from his conversation with Brennan, but it clung stubbornly to his face.

A fellow agent raised an eyebrow. "You get a promotion or something?"

Booth chuckled as he sat down. "Something like that."

He opened his laptop, but instead of focusing on the case files in front of him, he stared off for a second… thinking about coffee, Parker's teacher, and how he hadn't felt this light in a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Brennan stood in front of her closet, staring at the hangers like they were mocking her.

And yet… she'd changed her top three times already.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, tugging off the soft gray sweater she had on and reaching for a navy blouse instead. "It's coffee. It's not a date. Just… caffeine and conversation."

But her reflection said otherwise—especially the slight flush in her cheeks and the flutter in her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so unsure about what to wear, let alone for something so casual. He had this way of throwing her off balance. Always with the teasing smiles, the way his voice dropped when he said her name, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

After finally settling on the blouse and dark jeans, she slipped on her boots, grabbed her bag, and took one last glance in the mirror.

"You're being completely irrational," she said, more firmly this time.

Still, her pulse quickened a little as she headed out the door.

Brennan pulled into the parking lot and sat in her car for a beat. The little café was warmly lit from the inside, golden light spilling out through the windows like something from a postcard.

She could already see Booth through the window—seated at a corner table with two coffees in front of him, one hand drumming lightly on the table, the other checking his phone.

He looked… nervous.

That surprised her. And oddly comforted her, too.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of the car and headed inside. The little bell above the door jingled, and Booth's head snapped up.

Their eyes met, and his face immediately relaxed into a smile.

"You came," he said, standing.

"I said I would," she replied, shrugging off her coat. "I never said otherwise Mr. Booth."

Booth handed her the coffee he'd ordered for her. "Just in case."

She raised an eyebrow. "And if I hadn't shown?"

"I would've had two coffees," he said with a grin. "Rough sacrifice."

She smiled and took the cup. "Let's see if your coffee choice is as good as your parenting."

He smirked. "Oh, it's better."

They sat across from each other, a flicker of something warm and new settling in between them.

Brennan took a careful sip of the coffee Booth had handed her.

Her eyebrows lifted.

"This is… actually really good."

Booth leaned back with a proud smile, cradling his own mug. "Told you. I take my coffee choices seriously."

She gave him a mock-skeptical look over the rim of her cup. "Is this what you do? Bribe people with perfectly balanced caffeine?"

"I mean, it worked, didn't it?"

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Debatable."

He tilted his head, studying her. "You always this hard to impress?"

"Only when someone's trying so obviously to impress me," she quipped, but her smile softened the jab.

Booth grinned, leaning forward a little, elbows resting on the table. "So I am trying to impress you?"

Brennan hesitated for just a beat, long enough for the silence to feel charged. "Aren't you?"

"I think I already did," he said, voice lower now. "When Parker came home after his first day and said you were his favorite part."

Her heart gave a tiny twist. She tried not to show it. "He's a smart kid. I enjoy having him in class."

"He thinks you're cool."

She laughed lightly. "No one thinks their teacher is cool."

"Parker does," Booth said simply. "And I gotta say… I kind of get it."

Brennan blinked. "Do you flirt with all your kid's teachers?"

"Only the ones who wear navy blue blouses that make their eyes do that… shiny, smart thing."

She felt her cheeks flush despite herself. "You're ridiculous."

He shrugged, unfazed. "And yet… you're still here."

"That's only because the coffee is good."

"That's what they all say," Booth teased.

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved up again. "You're not what I expected."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"

"A tired single dad who forgets picture day every year and forgets to sign permission slips."

He chuckled. "Okay, guilty on the picture day. But hey, I'm the chaperone for every school trip."

"You care about him," she said quietly, the teasing tone slipping away for a moment. "That much is obvious."

Booth nodded. "Yeah. I've had to. It's just us now."

There was a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable, but full.

"You're doing a good job," Brennan said softly.

Booth met her eyes. "So are you."

She looked down at her coffee, suddenly a little overwhelmed by how much weight those three words carried.

"Most people think teachers are just babysitters with whiteboards," she said. "But I've always believed that what happens in a classroom matters more than people realize."

"It does," Booth said. "And it matters who's standing in the front of the room."

Their eyes locked again, and she swore the air between them shifted. Something unspoken passed across the small table—familiar, yet brand new.

"I don't usually do this," she said before she could stop herself.

"What, have coffee?"

"No," she said, laughing softly. "Let people in."

Booth leaned in. "Then I'm honored."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You're not what I expected either."

"Oh yeah? What did you expect?"

She considered. "Someone cocky. Overconfident. A little arrogant."

"Wow. So flattering."

"But also someone with a good heart," she added. "And maybe… a little too charming for his own good."

Booth smirked. "So, just charming enough to get you here for coffee."

She gave him a side glance. "I never said I regretted it."

They sipped their drinks again, both aware that the playful edge in the conversation had deepened into something a little more… real.

After a long pause, Booth leaned back. "So… next time, I pick the place?"

"Next time?" she echoed.

"Yeah. I figure if you're gonna keep pretending to only like me for my coffee choices, I should at least prove I've got range."

Brennan chuckled. "We'll see, Mr. Booth."

"Challenge accepted, Miss Brennan."

They stayed a while longer—talking, laughing, leaning just a little closer each time, until the evening sky turned from golden to deep blue outside the window.

As they stepped out of the coffee shop, the air was cooler, but not enough to chase them indoors. Brennan glanced up at the streetlight overhead, a soft glow catching in her hair.

Booth turned to her, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I've got the sitter for another hour," he said, voice low and warm. "Wanna get some dessert?"

She hesitated for half a second—not out of doubt, but because something about his tone sent a thrill straight to her chest. Then she nodded.

"I could be persuaded."

His smile was wide and boyish. "Good. I know a place. Just around the corner. Best cannoli in D.C."

Before she could respond, he reached down and gently laced his fingers through hers.

Brennan blinked, startled—not by the gesture itself, but by how natural it felt. Like her hand had been waiting for his.

She didn't pull away. If anything, she squeezed it tighter.

Booth gave her a sideways glance as they started walking. "You okay with this?"

She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him.

"I'm not ready to end… whatever this is," she said softly.

His smile softened. "Me neither."

They strolled down the quiet street, the evening hum of the city surrounding them but not intruding. A couple passed by and smiled at the sight of them—two people, just beginning to fall into something neither quite expected but already couldn't ignore.

At the corner, the little bakery glowed warm through the windows. Booth opened the door for her, still holding her hand as they stepped inside.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt alone.

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped into the cozy bakery. The air was sweet with vanilla, powdered sugar, and something freshly baked. Warm light glowed against exposed brick walls, and the display case gleamed with an assortment of delicate pastries and desserts.

Booth let go of Brennan's hand only to guide her gently toward the counter. "Told you. Best cannoli in the city."

She eyed the glass case with a skeptical tilt of her head. "I'm more of a chocolate torte person."

Booth grinned. "Challenge accepted. One cannoli and one torte—winner buys next dessert next time?"

She arched a brow, amused. "You're assuming I'll be interested in dessert again."

"Oh, you will be," he said confidently, stepping up to the counter. "She'll take the torte, I'll do a cannoli, please."

They found a small table near the window. Booth pulled out her chair with an exaggerated gentlemanly gesture, earning a quiet laugh from Brennan.

Once seated, they leaned in closer, as if drawn into a quieter bubble of their own.

"Be honest," Booth said as he slid her plate toward her. "You didn't expect to end your week like this."

Brennan cut into the torte with her fork, pausing just long enough to look him in the eye. "I didn't expect you."

The air thickened slightly with meaning, but neither of them pulled away.

Booth smirked, biting into his cannoli. "I tend to have that effect."

She smiled behind her fork. "So modest."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I think you like it."

"I think you think I like it," she replied, eyes twinkling.

They sat like that for a while—playful words dancing between them, glances held a little longer than necessary, laughter layered with something neither wanted to name yet. Booth watched the way she slowly warmed to the space, her posture relaxed, her smile coming more freely. Brennan agreed that she was wrong, the cannoli was definitively better.

Brennan, for her part, couldn't stop watching how easy Booth was with affection, with humor, with kindness. How genuine he seemed.

As they finished their dessert, Booth leaned back, watching her with a soft smile.

"You make it really hard to stop smiling, you know that?"

Brennan met his gaze for a beat, heart kicking in her chest. "I could say the same about you."

Outside, the city was quieting down. Inside, something was just beginning.

The bakery door closed behind them with a soft chime, and the cool night air kissed their skin. The street was quieter now, the city settling into its lull. Brennan hugged her coat a little tighter around her as they walked side by side toward her car.

Booth didn't say much—just kept glancing over at her with a small smile, as if trying to memorize how her laugh had sounded over dessert or the way she'd leaned in just a little closer when he teased her.

When they reached her car, she turned to face him, her hand on the door handle, but she didn't open it right away.

"I had a good time," she said softly.

"Yeah," Booth replied, voice low. "Me too."

There was a pause. A comfortable one. But there was also something hovering in the air—expectation, maybe. Hope.

Booth stepped closer, not too close, just enough to make her feel seen.

"I didn't want tonight to end," he admitted. "But I didn't want to push anything either."

Her gaze flicked up to meet his, searching.

"I'm not used to this," she said honestly.

"I know," he said, voice even gentler now. "Me either. Not like this."

Then, slowly, he leaned in—not toward her lips, but her cheek. His hand lightly touched her elbow as he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to her cheekbone. Not rushed. Not unsure. Just steady. Safe.

When he pulled back, Brennan's breath caught slightly, but not from surprise—from the unexpected softness of the moment.

Booth gave her a faint smile. "Goodnight, Brennan."

She nodded once, then opened her door and slipped inside. But before shutting it, she looked up at him and said, "Goodnight, Booth."

He stood there for a second, watching her drive away, his hands in his jacket pockets, heart thudding in a way that told him this was already more than he expected—and it was only the beginning.

The soft click of the apartment door closing behind her echoed in the stillness of the space. Brennan kicked off her shoes, setting her purse on the table by habit, though her mind was still caught somewhere between the bakery and the warmth of Booth's lips on her cheek.

She didn't turn on the lights right away. Instead, she walked toward the living room window, where the city lights blinked like stars pulled close. Something fluttered in her chest—an unfamiliar mix of contentment and anticipation.

She pulled her coat tighter around her and sank onto the couch, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding since she left him standing by her car. It had been a simple gesture, a kiss to the cheek, but it had left a warmth she couldn't explain.

Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.

Booth: Tonight was really great. Thanks for saying yes.

She smiled, heart nudging her forward.

Brennan: It was… nice. You didn't oversell it.

A beat passed before it buzzed again.

Booth: High praise coming from you. Sweet dreams, Miss B.

She stared at the message longer than she needed to, then typed back slowly.

Brennan: Goodnight, Booth.

She tucked the phone beside her and leaned her head back against the couch cushion, a quiet smile curving her lips.

Maybe this was something. Maybe it was the start of something real.

Chapter Text

Brennan stood near her desk, finishing up the last of her lesson prep while students filtered in. The buzz of conversation grew louder as backpacks thudded against chairs and pencils clattered on desks.

She glanced up when she heard Parker's voice — louder than the rest, filled with weekend energy.

"Miss B!" he called with a big wave as he entered the classroom. "Guess what? I saw a real T-Rex skull at the museum store yesterday!"

Brennan smiled, "That's very cool, Parker. Was it accurate?"

He stopped and gave it a serious think, his little brow furrowing. "I dunno. You'll have to tell me. I can show you a picture of it when Dad picks me up later!"

Booth stepped into the room behind him, coffee in hand, looking rested and maybe even… happy. He met Brennan's eyes, and she tried not to smile too obviously.

"Morning," he said casually.

"Good morning," she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You guys ready for the week?" he asked, mostly to Parker, but his eyes lingered on her.

"Born ready," Parker said, sliding into his seat. "Dad made pancakes. Chocolate chip."

Brennan raised a brow. "I'm starting to think your dad bribes you to be this chipper in the morning."

Booth leaned a little closer, voice low. "Only when I'm in a good mood."

Their eyes held for a second longer than necessary before a group of students burst in, and Brennan turned her attention to them.

"Alright everyone, let's get settled!" she called, walking to the front of the room.

Booth gave her a little wave as he turned to go. "Have a good one, Miss B."

"You too, Mr. Booth," she replied, just loud enough for him to hear, her voice laced with that new, familiar warmth.

Brennan was finishing up grading papers when Parker walked into the classroom, his face pale and contorted in discomfort. She glanced up, frowning as she noticed his hand clutching his side.

"Parker, are you okay?" she asked, setting aside her papers.

"I… I don't feel too good," he mumbled, his voice quiet. "My stomach hurts a lot."

Brennan immediately stood up, her instincts as a scientist kicking in. She placed a hand on his forehead to check for a fever, but he wasn't hot. His face was pinched in pain, though, which made her worry.

"Let's get you to the nurse," she said, trying to sound reassuring as she helped him walk down the hallway.

When they reached the nurse's office, Parker collapsed onto the examination table, still clutching his side and now his stomach too. The nurse, Mrs. Harrelson, quickly stepped into action, asking him a series of questions while Brennan hovered nearby, watching carefully.

"Does it hurt more when you move? Or is it constant?" Mrs. Harrelson asked, her tone calm and professional.

Parker winced as he shifted, unable to hide the pain.

"It just… hurts," he said quietly, his voice wavering.

After a few more moments of questioning, Mrs. Harrelson's expression shifted from concern to alarm. She moved to the phone and picked it up, calling for an ambulance.

"Ms. Brennan," Mrs. Harrelson said, looking up from the phone, "it might be his appendix. We should get him to the hospital just in case."

Brennan's heart skipped a beat. Appendix — that wasn't something to mess around with.

She immediately reached for her phone and dialed Booth's number. She tried to keep her voice calm, but it was hard with Parker in so much pain.

Booth picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, temperance, what's up?" His voice was light, almost flirtatious, but it faded when he heard the urgency in hers.

"Parker's sick. He's in the nurse's office, and we think it might be his appendix. We're waiting for the ambulance." Brennan's voice tightened with concern. "I'm going to ride with him in the ambulance."

Booth paused on the other end, his tone instantly serious. "What? What happened? Is he okay?"

"He's in pain, Booth." Brennan replied, her eyes never leaving Parker. "The nurse is calling the ambulance. I'll ride with them to the hospital."

There was a long pause before Booth spoke again, his voice softer, but still tinged with worry. "I'm coming, Temperance. I'll be there as soon as I can. But you… you'll be with him, right?." He started rambling, his anxiety kicking in.

Brennan bit her lip, her protective instincts kicking in as she glanced at Parker, who was now pale and visibly sweating from the pain.

"I'll be fine, Booth," she said firmly, trying to reassure him, even though she wasn't sure herself. "I'll be right there with him the whole time till you get there."

Booth's voice dropped to a more serious, tender tone. "I'm leaving now! I'll meet you there, please let me know if anything happens in the meantime. I can't lose him too Tempe."

Brennan's breath caught in her throat for a moment before she responded, "I'll let you know if something changes. Booth, you aren't going to lose him, I promise!"

She ended the call and immediately went to Parker's side. He was looking up at her, his face still contorted in pain, but he tried to smile weakly.

"Miss B… you'll stay with me, right?" he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course, Parker. I'm not going anywhere," she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. She held his hand, trying to comfort him as the ambulance arrived. "Your dad is going to meet us at the hospital." Before she left, she knew

The hospital was busy, but Brennan stayed by Parker's side the whole time, talking to him gently, distracting him from the pain with quiet words of encouragement. She felt his hand tighten around hers, and she was once again struck by how much he had grown on her — how quickly he had become someone she cared about. The room they were in was quiet, and distracting. They turned the tv on for Parker, but he wasn't paying any attention.

After what felt like an eternity, Booth showed up, breathless and frantic, but grateful to see that Parker was in good hands.

"Brennan," Booth said, his voice filled with urgency as he rushed to her side. "How's he doing?"

Brennan turned to him, trying to maintain her calm composure. "We're still waiting for the doctor. He's in pain, but he's handling it okay, just like a champ."

Booth's gaze immediately moved to Parker, his face filled with concern, but as he saw how Brennan was sitting there, holding Parker's hand and talking to him quietly, his eyes softened. He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little.

He walked over to the bed and talked to Parker, "How are you doing bud?" He checked over his son, "Do you need anything? How's your pain?"

Parker wiped some tears from his eyes, "Dad I'm scared! Everything hurts, I need you!" Booth hugged his son lightly, trying not to hurt him.

"I'm right here buddy! I'm not going anywhere, you're going to be ok!" He looked up at Brennan.

"You've been here with him the whole time?" Booth asked, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, Brennan… for staying with him until I could get here. I… I didn't know what I would've done if you hadn't." He gave her a hug, he whispered, "I owe you one!"

Brennan nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "It's no problem, Booth. He's a good kid." Her voice softened as she looked down at Parker, still clutching her hand tightly.

Booth gave a small, appreciative chuckle, but there was a layer of emotion in it. "You've really been holding down the fort for me, haven't you? I appreciate it. You didn't have to."

Before Brennan could respond, Parker looked up at Booth, his face pale but offering a small, brave smile.

"Dad… I'm really scared," he whispered, his voice weak.

Booth's heart clenched, and he moved immediately to Parker's side, his hand gently rubbing Parker's back. "Hey, buddy, you're gonna be okay," Booth said, his voice calm but filled with reassurance. "I'm here, and Miss Brennan's here. She's been taking really good care of you."

Parker looked up at Brennan with tired eyes, the gratitude evident in his gaze. "Thank you, Miss B," he said softly, squeezing her hand.

Brennan smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as she continued to hold his hand. "You're welcome, Parker. You're a strong kid, just like a t-rex."

Booth met her eyes, a silent exchange passing between them — one filled with thanks and a growing admiration for what Brennan had done. He hadn't expected her to step in so effortlessly, but here she was, making sure Parker was okay, just as she had done when he first started the school year.

Booth took a deep breath, glancing at Brennan again. "I didn't know how I'd handle this, Temperance. I'm glad you were here… for both of us."

Brennan looked at him, seeing the gratitude in his eyes, and for a brief moment, the connection between them felt deeper than it ever had before.

"You don't have to thank me," Brennan said softly. "I just… wanted to make sure he's okay."

They sat together in silence for a moment, both keeping a watchful eye on Parker, who had closed his eyes, trying to rest. Booth's hand lingered on Parker's shoulder, and Brennan's was still in Parker's, a comforting presence between them both.

As the doctor finally came in to assess Parker's condition, Booth stayed at Brennan's side, watching her interact with Parker, and feeling a stronger sense of appreciation than he could express in words.

The door to the small exam room creaked open, and both Booth and Brennan looked up as the doctor entered, a clipboard tucked under his arm and a concerned but composed expression on his face.

"Mr. Booth, Dr. Brennan," he began, glancing between them. "We've done a full evaluation, and the imaging confirms what we suspected. Parker's appendix is inflamed. It's appendicitis. We need to take him into surgery soon—within the hour."

Booth's heart dropped. He gripped the edge of the chair tightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Surgery? How serious—he's going to be okay, right?"

The doctor nodded. "It's a routine procedure. Quick. We'll make a small incision, remove the appendix, and barring any complications, he'll recover just fine. But we do need to move fast before it ruptures."

Booth looked over at his son, who was curled up under a blanket, his face pale but his eyes trying to stay brave. Booth leaned in and brushed the hair off Parker's forehead, voice soft.

"Hey, buddy. You're gonna be okay. They're just gonna fix your tummy, alright? I'm gonna be right here the whole time waiting for you."

Parker nodded slowly, eyes shining. "You promise?"

Booth swallowed the lump in his throat. "I promise. You're the strongest kid I know."

Brennan stepped closer, her hand lightly touching Booth's back. "They'll take good care of him," she said quietly, her voice calm and sure. "And so will we. Together."

Booth looked at her—really looked—and for a moment, the hospital room faded. Just her hand on his back, her eyes steady, her presence a rock in the storm.

A team of nurses entered, prepping Parker for surgery. Booth kissed his son's forehead, whispering one last reassurance before stepping aside and watching them wheel him out. The moment Parker disappeared through the doors, Booth exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair.

"You okay?" Brennan asked gently.

He nodded, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him. "Yeah. No. I don't know. He's my kid, you know? My whole world."

"I know," she said softly, guiding him toward the waiting area. "Let's sit."

They walked in silence down the hall, the sterile lights overhead casting a cold glow. Booth sank into a chair in the waiting room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. Brennan sat beside him, close but not crowding, offering her quiet strength like an anchor.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Booth turned to her, his voice raw. "Thank you. For being there. For riding with him. For calling me. I don't know what I would've done if I wasn't there when he went in."

"You don't have to thank me," she said, meeting his gaze. "I care about him. And I care about you."

Booth's breath caught just slightly. The weight of her words, spoken so simply, settled deep in his chest. For the first time since the doctor's news, something like calm started to replace the panic. He reached over and grabbed her hand tightly.

They sat in silence again, waiting. Hoping. Together.

The fluorescent lights in the waiting room flickered softly overhead, the hush of late-night hospital life settling in like a blanket. Booth leaned forward in his chair, eyes unfocused, staring at the floor as his foot tapped anxiously against the tile.

Brennan sat beside him, legs crossed, hands held in his, watching him quietly. She wasn't used to seeing him like this—so raw, so vulnerable. Booth was always the strong one. The protector. But tonight, his armor had cracked.

He looked up at her, but when their eyes met, something inside him softened. He didn't say anything, just let the contact ground him for a moment. Then, his voice came low and unsteady.

"I keep thinking… what if I hadn't answered the phone? What if you hadn't been there with him? I could've lost him today, Temperance."

"You didn't," she said gently. "You didn't lose him."

Booth exhaled sharply and shook his head. "I know. But the thought—it just—he's my little boy. I wasn't there when he needed me. And you were."

She turned toward him, fully now, her voice steady. "You didn't fail him. You didn't abandon him. You were on your way. I only got to him first because I was closer. That's all."

He let that sink in, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes.

"You're a good father, Booth," she continued, her tone softening. "The kind that most children dream of having."

He blinked quickly, like he wasn't sure if she meant it—or if he could allow himself to believe it. Then, he laughed quietly, bitterly. "You really think that? After everything?"

"I know it," she said firmly. "I see it every time you look at him. Every time you talk about him. Everything you've done has been for him."

Silence stretched between them again, but it was thicker now—charged.

Booth turned toward her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you always know exactly what to say?"

She tilted her head slightly, offering him the barest hint of a smile. "I don't. But I meant every word."

He looked at her for a long moment, his hand finding hers where it rested on his knee. He didn't grip it, just let their fingers rest together, linked by something quiet and unspoken.

"You mean the world to me, Bones," he said, almost afraid of the truth in his own voice. "And not just because of Parker."

She looked at him, confused about the nickname he just gave her. "Why did you just call me Bones?"

He looked at her and squeezed her hand, "You told us when we first met that you enjoyed working with Bones. I guess I just gave you that nickname because you like Bones and it seemed fit." She giggled at him

"I like it!" She smiled and kissed his cheek.

Her lips parted slightly, but for once, she didn't overanalyze or question it. She just let herself feel the weight of his words.

Before either of them could say anything more, a nurse stepped into the waiting room, calling Booth's name.

They both stood at once, hands still linked as they turned to face whatever came next—together.

Booth's fingers were laced tightly, knuckles white, as the doctor stepped into the waiting room. Brennan stood beside him, still and focused, but she noticed the slight tremble in his arm before he rose to meet the man in scrubs.

"Mr. Booth?" the doctor asked, scanning the small group in the room until his eyes landed on Booth.

Booth nodded, stepping forward. "Yeah. That's me. Is he—?"

The doctor smiled, reassuring and calm. "Parker is out of surgery. He did very well. His appendix was severely inflamed, but we removed it in time. No complications."

Booth let out a shaky breath, chest rising and falling with sudden, almost dizzying relief. Brennan watched him with soft eyes, her hand lightly brushing against his back.

"He's okay?" Booth asked again, needing to hear it twice to believe it.

"He's doing well," the doctor confirmed. "He does have a slight post-op fever, which we're monitoring. It's not uncommon, but we'll keep him here for a few days just to be safe."

Booth nodded quickly, eyes glassy with emotion. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's in recovery now, starting to wake up. I'll take you back."

Booth turned to Brennan instinctively, his heart torn between father and… whatever this growing connection between them was.

"You coming?" he asked, eyes searching hers.

Brennan hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't want to go. It was that she knew Parker would want his father — that the little boy needed something familiar and grounding.

She offered him a soft, understanding smile. "No… you go. He needs you. I'll wait out here. Maybe grab something to eat for you both."

Booth's eyes flickered, a moment of quiet gratitude passing between them. His hand brushed her arm, gentle and warm.

"Thank you… for everything, Bones."

She nodded. "You'd have done the same."

Then he was gone, following the doctor through the swinging doors and down the corridor.

Brennan stood there for a moment longer, surrounded by the sterile hum of hospital lights and the low buzz of televisions in the waiting room. Her chest felt tight — not in a painful way, but in that unfamiliar, expanding way that came with caring.

She gathered her coat, tucked her hair behind her ear, and headed toward the exit, determined to find something Parker would eat when he woke up — and something that might ease Booth's nerves. She wasn't quite sure what this night meant, or what tomorrow would bring, but she knew this:

She wasn't ready to walk away.

Not from either of them.

Booth stepped through the doorway with barely contained urgency, the steady beeping of hospital monitors drawing his eyes straight to the small bed in the center of the room.

There he was.

Parker looked impossibly small beneath the crisp white sheets, his cheeks a little flushed, an IV threaded gently into his arm. His eyelids fluttered faintly, lips slightly parted in a slow, shallow breath. But he was there. Breathing. Alive.

Booth's legs carried him forward before he even realized it, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he sank down beside the bed.

"Hey, buddy…" he whispered, voice already cracking with the wave of emotion rising in his throat. "I'm here, pal. Dad's right here."

He reached out, gently brushing Parker's hair back from his forehead, his fingers trembling as they made contact. Parker stirred at the touch, his lashes lifting just enough to reveal groggy, glassy eyes.

"Dad?" His voice was barely audible — small and scratchy — but it was everything.

"Yeah," Booth breathed, blinking fast. "Yeah, it's me. You scared the hell out of me, kiddo."

Parker's lip twitched into a tired smile. "You stayed…"

Booth let out a choked laugh, gripping his son's hand. "Of course I stayed. Nothing could keep me away, okay? You're so brave, buddy. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Parker's forehead, unable to stop the tears that slipped quietly down his cheeks. He wiped them quickly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You did good," he whispered, voice thick. "You're okay now. You're safe."

Parker blinked slowly, his grip tightening just slightly on Booth's fingers before sleep started to pull him back under.

Booth stayed there, his head bowed beside the bed, his heart finally beginning to slow. The adrenaline and fear that had propelled him through the last hour were draining away, leaving behind a fierce, raw gratitude.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there — minutes or maybe hours — before a quiet knock at the door stirred him.

He turned, still holding Parker's hand, as Brennan peeked her head in, a bag of takeout in her arms and something unreadable in her eyes.

"You're back," He said softly.

"Of course, where else would I want to be?" She murmured, glancing back at Booth and his son.

She stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

"I got Thai," she said gently, setting the bag down on the windowsill. "Figured you could use something that didn't come in a vending machine."

Booth looked up at her and gave her a tired, grateful smile. "You didn't have to do that, Bones."

"I know," she replied, opening the containers. "But I wanted to."

They sat together near the window, Parker resting peacefully behind them, the warm scent of food filling the space between them. Booth took a bite and closed his eyes, letting out a content hum.

"You're a lifesaver."

Brennan glanced at him, her expression soft. "You were the one who needed saving today, Booth. I just helped."

He looked at her then, really looked — and something in the moment quieted. There was a weight between them that wasn't heavy, just meaningful.

"Thank you for being there," he said after a beat. "I know i've been saying that all day. You just didn't have to do all that, but you did."

"I care about him," Brennan said simply. "And you."

That silenced him again, but she didn't press. She just smiled faintly and wiped her hands with a napkin.

"I should let you rest," she said, standing and brushing invisible crumbs off her pants. "I'll come back after school tomorrow and bring Parker any homework he misses."

Booth stood too, following her to the door.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," she cut in, gently. "Tell him I'll see him tomorrow."

He nodded, eyes locked on hers. "I will."

She turned to go, but Booth stopped her just before she reached the hallway.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice low and sincere. "Thank you. For everything. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there today."

She turned to face him, her eyes flicking from his to his mouth, her breath catching slightly.

"You don't have to keep thanking me," she whispered.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, soft and lingering, his hand brushing her arm. But before she could pull away, Booth shifted, and turned toward her, and closed the distance — his lips meeting her's in a gentle, deliberate kiss that held every unspoken thing between them.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't hesitant. It was quiet, and warm, and filled with gratitude, relief, and something deeper neither had yet dared to name.

When they pulled back, their eyes stayed locked.

"See you tomorrow," she said, a small smile curving on her lips.

Booth nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

And with that, she turned and walked down the hallway, leaving him standing there — stunned, smiling, and maybe just a little bit in love.

The hospital room was dim, the only light coming from the small bedside lamp and the faint glow of monitors. Parker slept soundly, his fever under control, his breathing steady.

Booth sat in the recliner beside the bed, one leg pulled up, arms wrapped loosely around it. His dinner with Brennan had long since settled, but his mind hadn't. Not since she walked away down that hall.

That kiss.

He could still feel it — the warmth of her lips, the way she didn't hesitate once he turned to her. It hadn't been a fluke. It wasn't a mistake. It was something new, something he wanted to keep doing forever.

His phone sat on the side table, screen dark. He stared at it for a moment, then reached for it, his thumb hovering over her name in his contacts.

For once, he didn't overthink it.

Booth: Still can't stop thinking about that kiss.

A beat passed. Then another message:

Booth: I know the timing's weird, but… it meant something to me.

He hesitated a moment longer, then added:

Booth: Just wanted you to know.

He hit send, locking the screen and placing the phone back on the table. No pressure. No expectations.

But his heart thudded a little harder.

Parker shifted slightly in the bed, murmuring something unintelligible, and Booth leaned over, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He smiled gently at his son, then sat back again.

Maybe tomorrow would bring clarity. Or maybe more confusion. But for now, he had that kiss — and he was happy he took the chance on her, on them.

Booth stared at his phone long after hitting send, the dim hospital room pressing in around him. The silence stretched. One minute. Two. Five.

Nothing.

He wasn't expecting a full conversation—hell, he wasn't even sure she was still awake—but the quiet gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. He'd put himself out there, said something real. And now?

His chest tightened just a little. Maybe it had meant something to him, but not the same thing to her. Maybe it was just a moment. A reaction to a long, emotional day.

Parker stirred again in the bed, and Booth stood quickly, brushing his son's hair back, grounding himself in the familiar rhythm of care. He wasn't going to spiral. Not tonight. Brennan wasn't the type to play games. If she hadn't answered… there was a reason.

Still, when he finally sat back down, sleep didn't come easily. Not with his mind running laps around a kiss and a silence he couldn't quite decipher.

Sunlight streamed in through the hospital window, soft and golden. Parker was still asleep, his breathing even, the monitors steady. Booth sat beside him, running on coffee and not enough rest, his phone still quiet.

Until it wasn't.

The soft chime made his heart jump. He snatched the phone up before it finished vibrating.

Brennan: I'm sorry I didn't reply last night. I fell asleep.

Brennan: I read your message first thing this morning. And… I felt the same. I still do.

Booth exhaled, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding all night. He let himself smile, wide and relieved, even as he typed his reply.

Booth: I thought maybe I'd scared you off.

Booth: I'm really glad I didn't.

A moment later, her response came.

Brennan: You didn't scare me. You surprised me. There's a difference.

His grin deepened. God, she was something else.

Booth: Can I bring you coffee later, when you come to visit Parker? Just… as thanks for not running for the hills.

Brennan: Only if it's strong. And you let me return the favor next time.

He chuckled, glancing at Parker, still out cold.

Yeah. Today was already better than yesterday.

Late afternoon light filtered through the hospital blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. Parker was awake now, sitting up in bed with a juice box and half a smile. His appendix might be gone, but his spirit was intact.

The knock came softly, followed by the quiet squeak of the door opening.

"Hi, Parker," Brennan said, stepping inside with a canvas tote slung over her shoulder. She held up a folder. "I brought you your homework."

Parker groaned, dramatically flopping his head back against the pillow. "Really?"

Booth grinned from his post near the window. "Told you she was thorough."

Brennan raised an eyebrow, handing the folder over with an amused look. "If you prefer, I could quiz you orally on long-vowel patterns instead."

Parker straightened quickly. "The folder's fine."

Booth laughed as Brennan set the tote on the chair and crossed to him. He held out a hospital-issued paper cup like it was a rare treasure.

"For you," he said. "Fresh from the world-famous Jefferson Memorial Hospital cafeteria. Best coffee this side of the Potomac."

Brennan took the cup, sniffed it suspiciously. "It smells like something a burnt tire might produce."

"Exactly. Vintage." He nudged her playfully. "Consider it a peace offering."

She smiled, sipping it anyway, then made a face. "This is terrible."

"You're welcome."

Their eyes met over the rim of her cup, something quiet and unspoken passing between them. Booth cleared his throat a little and glanced toward Parker, who was already flipping half-heartedly through his homework pages.

"Hey, buddy, can I talk to Miss Brennan for a second? Grown-up stuff."

Parker waved him off without even looking up.

Booth chuckled, then nodded toward the hallway. Brennan followed.

The hallway outside was quiet, lined with muted pastels and soft footsteps. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. She stood across from him, still holding the coffee.

"I didn't mean to make things weird," he said finally, voice low but steady. "With the kiss. With the texts. I just… I didn't want to pretend like it didn't happen."

Brennan studied him for a moment. "It wasn't weird," she said quietly. "I enjoyed it very much Booth!"

He nodded, eyes searching hers. "So where does that leave us?"

There was a beat of silence as she seemed to weigh the question. Then:

"I don't know," she admitted. "This isn't exactly typical. You're Parker's father. I'm his teacher. There are… expectations. Boundaries."

"But also," he said gently, "there's something here. Right?"

She looked down at the coffee cup in her hands, then back at him. "Yes," she said. "There's something."

He stepped a little closer, just enough to soften the space between them. "I'm not asking for anything crazy. Just… let's not walk away from whatever this is. Not yet."

A pause. Then, she nodded. "Okay. Let's see where it goes."

The smallest smile played at his lips. "Good. Because I think this is worth figuring out."

She smiled, "I agree. You make me feel something I haven't felt in quite a long time."

Back in the hospital room, Parker was attempting to balance a pencil on his upper lip when Brennan and Booth returned. He dropped it the moment he saw them.

"You guys done talking about boring adult stuff?" he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Brennan smiled and crossed to his bedside. "Not all adult conversations are boring. Some are simply necessary."

Booth smirked from behind her. "She's being polite. It was incredibly boring."

Parker grinned, content enough to let it go.

Brennan pulled the chair closer to the bed and opened the homework folder she'd brought. "Let's start with the reading comprehension sheet," she said, smoothing the page. "You already know the story—it's from our class book. Do you remember what the main character's problem was?"

Parker squinted at the page, chewing on his lower lip. "He couldn't find his dog?"

"Exactly," she nodded, handing him the pencil. "Now use that to answer question one. And don't forget to write in complete sentences."

Booth moved to the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He watched them—his son, intent on impressing her, and Brennan, her tone gentle but firm, her encouragement instinctual.

There was something almost surreal about it. The ease. The warmth. The normalcy.

It wasn't flashy or dramatic. But it hit him, hard, how natural this felt. Like he was watching something he hadn't even realized he'd been missing.

Parker finished the first two questions with Brennan's help, her occasional corrections met with dramatic sighs and exaggerated eye-rolls—but he followed her advice. Every time.

Booth's eyes met hers at one point, and she offered him a soft, knowing smile—like she knew he was watching, like she was letting him see this side of her because she wanted to.

It meant more than she probably realized.

By the time they wrapped up the worksheet, Parker was tired again—his eyelids drooping, pencil sliding lazily down the page.

"You did great," Brennan said quietly, taking the pencil from his hand and setting it aside. "We can finish the rest later."

"Mmm," Parker mumbled, already sinking deeper into the bed.

"Before you head to sleep I want to give you something from the whole class." She reached inside her purse and pulled out a card made of construction paper signed from all the students in Parkers class. It says Feel Better Soon to our favorite T-rex wrangler. Parker took the card and smiled, holding it close to his chest.

"Dad look how cool this is!" Booth stepped forward and looked over the card.

"This is awesome bud." Booth took the card from him, and kissed his head, "We can look it over when you wake up later Parks!"

Booth stepped forward and tucked the blankets around his son. Brennan stood beside him, just close enough that their shoulders brushed.

"Thanks for this," he said, voice low.

She looked up at him, eyes soft. "Of course."

For a long beat, they just stood there, watching Parker drift to sleep. Then Booth tilted his head toward the door.

"You got time for a real cup of coffee now?"

She smiled. "Lead the way."

And just like that, they stepped out of the room—not as teacher and parent, not yet as something official—but as two people choosing to figure it out. Together.

Chapter Text

The hospital cafeteria wasn't exactly romantic, but it had its charms—low lighting, half-decent pastries, and, most importantly, privacy. Or so they thought.

Booth and Brennan sat tucked away at a corner table, steam rising from their fresh cups of real coffee. Between them sat two muffins, slightly squashed but still warm.

"So," Brennan said, unwrapping hers, "this is what qualifies as a 'date' in your world?"

Booth smirked. "Only the best for you, Bones. Next time, I might even spring for a vending machine Snickers."

She laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and he felt that now-familiar tug in his chest. "How did I get so lucky, a snickers?" She joked.

They talked easily—about Parker, about her class, about Booth's latest case. And at some point, somewhere between their second cup and her gently mocking his taste in music, she reached across the table and laced her fingers with his.

It was simple. Quiet. But it made his heart stutter.

He squeezed her hand in response. And for a few minutes, nothing else existed.

Until someone said her name.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Her hand dropped from his like it had burned her. Booth blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden cold of her absence.

A woman in her mid-fifties stood beside the table, holding a tray with a salad and an iced tea. Brennan straightened in her seat instantly.

"Mrs. Carlyle," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "Hi. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I had a follow-up appointment upstairs," the woman said, glancing briefly at Booth. "Small world, huh?"

Brennan nodded, too fast. "Yes. Very."

Mrs. Carlyle looked between them, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. "Well, I won't keep you. Just wanted to say hello."

"Of course," Brennan said. "Have a good afternoon."

"You too." And with one last glance, Mrs. Carlyle walked away.

Booth sat back slowly, crossing his arms. The moment had vanished, and something else—cooler, heavier—sat in its place.

Brennan didn't speak right away. She sipped her coffee, eyes fixed on the table.

He waited a beat, then another, before finally breaking the silence.

"What was that?"

She looked up. "What do you mean?"

He gave her a look—measured, but unmistakably hurt. "You dropped my hand like it was radioactive."

"I…" She faltered. "I didn't mean to make you feel like—"

"Like I'm a mistake?" he offered, voice quiet but pointed.

"No," she said quickly. "That's not it at all. Booth, it's complicated."

"Then help me understand."

She took a breath, pressing her palms flat on the table. "If anyone from the school finds out I'm seeing a parent—especially one whose child is still in my classroom—it's a violation of policy. There are rules. Boundaries. I could get into serious trouble."

His jaw tightened. "What kind of trouble?"

"Best case? I get written up. Worst case?" She hesitated. "Parker would have to be transferred to another class. Away from me. Away from his friends."

Booth leaned back, processing. "So we're… what? A secret?"

"I'm saying we need to be careful," she said, her voice softer now. "Just until the end of the school year. Then the dynamic changes."

He looked at her, the edges of his expression caught somewhere between disappointment and understanding. "I get it, Bones. I do. But that hurt."

"I know," she said gently. "And I'm sorry. I panicked. It's not about how I feel about you."

"Then what is it?"

She met his eyes, steady now. "It's about protecting Parker. And keeping my job so I can keep teaching kids like him."

Booth exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing—just slightly.

"Okay," he said finally. "We're careful. For Parker."

Her eyes softened. "Thank you."

He nodded, then reached for her hand again—this time under the table. She let him take it.

And for now, that was enough.

It had been a quiet morning—until the call came over the intercom.

"Dr. Brennan, please report to the main office after school is over today."

Heads turned. Students paused mid-sentence. Even the classroom gerbil seemed to stop chewing for a second.

Brennan kept her expression neutral, rising from her desk with calm precision. But inside, her chest tightened.

She walked the familiar hallways with practiced steps, mind racing. When she reached the front office, the secretary gestured her toward Principal Harmon's door.

He was waiting, hands folded neatly on the desk, expression unreadable.

"Dr. Brennan," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"Of course," she said, taking the seat. "Is everything all right?"

"There's just… something I need to clarify with you," he said, playing with his fingers. "I had a conversation with Mrs. Carlyle yesterday. She mentioned seeing you at the hospital, in the cafeteria. With a man. She said it looked… intimate."

Brennan's spine straightened.

"I see."

Harmon's tone remained professional. "You know we don't make assumptions here. But when it comes to relationships involving parents of current students, we have strict policies for a reason."

"I understand," she said carefully. "And I can assure you, nothing inappropriate is going on."

He tilted his head. "Then perhaps you can clarify what Mrs. Carlyle saw?"

Brennan nodded. "Yes. Parker Booth, one of my students, had emergency surgery last week. His father—Agent Booth—has been at the hospital with him. I happened to bring Parker his schoolwork and stayed a few minutes to help. We crossed paths in the cafeteria afterward, and he bought me a coffee. That's all."

She kept her voice even, eyes steady.

Principal Harmon studied her a moment longer, then nodded slowly.

"All right. That explanation is sufficient—for now. But be aware, Dr. Brennan… appearances matter. If something were to develop between a teacher and a parent during the school year, it could create a conflict of interest."

"I understand," she said. "And I take that policy seriously."

He leaned back. "Good. I trust your judgment. That'll be all."

She nodded once, stood, and left the office with her pulse thudding in her ears.

By the time she got back to her classroom, she didn't even pause. She pulled out her phone and stepped into the back of her classroom, dialing fast.

Booth picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Bones. Everything okay?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not really."

"What happened?"

"I just got called into the principal's office. Mrs. Carlyle told him she saw us together at the hospital."

There was a pause on the line. Then, "Damn."

"I told him the truth," she said. "That I was delivering Parker's schoolwork. That we just ran into each other. But Booth… we're not going to get another warning."

He exhaled. "So what now?"

"We have to be even more careful," she said. "No more coffee dates. No more holding hands. Not until the year's over."

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. "Got it."

"I'm sorry," she added, her voice softer now. "This isn't what I want either. But if they remove Parker from my class… I don't think he'd understand."

"I know," Booth said. "You're right. We'll lay low. For him."

There was a beat of silence. Then, almost hesitantly, she said, "Thank you. For understanding."

"Always," he replied. "And hey—when this is over, we're getting the hell out of that cafeteria. Real coffee. A real date."

She smiled, even through the weight in her chest. "It's a plan."

And when she hung up, the smile lingered—for a second, at least—before she tucked it away, stepped back into her classroom, and returned to being just "Dr. Brennan" again.

It was late. The kind of late where everything felt quieter, more intimate, even through the glow of a dim living room lamp and the soft hum of the TV Booth wasn't really watching.

Parker was asleep, his hospital stay behind him, and the house was still. Booth sat on the couch, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Brennan's name. Again.

He'd been good. Respectful. Careful.

But tonight? Tonight it was driving him a little crazy.

Finally, he typed.

Booth: I know we're being "careful"

Booth: But you should know

Booth: I haven't stopped thinking about kissing you.

He stared at the screen, then added:

Booth: Like… full-on, losing-track-of-time, forgetting-where-we-are kissing. The kind that makes rules feel like background noise.

He hesitated, then hit send.

Immediately followed by:

Booth: Sorry. That was probably too much.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly. His heart jumped.

Brennan: It wasn't too much. It was… honest.

A pause.

Brennan: And for the record? I haven't stopped thinking about it either.

Booth exhaled, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.

Booth: I swear, Bones. If I had five minutes alone with you right now…

Brennan: What would you do?

His breath caught.

Booth: I'd start by pulling you in close. Just close enough to feel your heartbeat against mine. Then I'd kiss you slow.

Booth: Really slow.

Booth: The kind of kiss that doesn't ask for permission.

Booth: The kind that makes you forget everything else.

The typing bubble appeared, then vanished. Then came back.

Brennan: You're not making this easier.

Booth: Not trying to. Just want you to know how hard it is, pretending I don't want you every second of the day.

There was a long pause this time.

Brennan: Me too.

Another bubble.

Brennan: I want all of that. Just… not yet.

Booth: I'll wait.

Booth: But when the waiting's over…

Booth: You're mine, Bones.

Her reply came after a heartbeat.

Brennan: You already have me.

Booth leaned back on the couch, staring at her words, heart pounding. And though the silence stretched between them again, it wasn't empty. It was charged—with promise.

And the countdown had already begun.

The bell had just rung, releasing a tidal wave of energy from the classrooms. Brennan stood by her door, her hands folded in front of her, watching as students spilled into the hallway. Her hair was pulled back, neat as ever, but there was a faint flush in her cheeks she couldn't quite blame on the temperature.

Then he appeared—Booth, striding down the hallway with that easy confidence and a too-casual smile that said he was trying hard to act normal.

Parker was ahead of him, waving enthusiastically. "Dr. Brennan!"

"Hi, Parker," she said, returning his smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"Way better. I didn't even nap yesterday," he said proudly.

"That's excellent news." She turned slightly, grabbing his folder from her desk. "Here's your science packet. You'll need to finish the animal habitat model before Monday."

As she handed it to Parker, Booth stepped closer—and her breath caught, just slightly. His shoulder brushed hers, deliberately or not, and she didn't move away.

"Hey, Bones," he said low, just for her.

"Agent Booth," she replied smoothly, but the corners of her mouth tugged up in a way that betrayed her composure.

Their eyes met.

The look between them was warm, charged, too long to be casual. Her hand brushed his as she passed him a stray worksheet, and this time, neither of them pretended it was accidental.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "Thanks again for everything. I mean it."

She nodded once, slowly. "Of course. I'll always take care of Parker."

"I know," he said, voice soft. "That's part of the problem."

That made her arch an eyebrow. "Problem?"

"You, being this… amazing. And off-limits. Kind of wrecks a guy's focus."

She gave a faint laugh, low and quick, but didn't deny it.

Parker, oblivious, was already halfway down the hall with his folder.

"I should—" Booth nodded toward him.

"Right," Brennan said, stepping back.

But their eyes lingered again. One beat too long.

Booth nodded once, then turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, like he wasn't itching to turn around.

Brennan waited until he was gone before retreating into her room and closing the door. Her heart was thudding.

She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering, before finally typing.

Brennan:Tonight.

She hesitated for exactly one second before continuing.

Brennan: Come over. If you can find someone to stay with Parker.

Another pause. Her chest tight.

Brennan: I want to see you. Just us. No rules. No pretending.

Send.

She stared at the screen, her nerves buzzing.

Across town, Booth's phone buzzed in his coat pocket just as he was buckling Parker into the back seat. He glanced at the screen—and froze.

His heart skipped.

He read it twice. Then again.

Booth: Give me an hour. I'll be there.

He tucked the phone away, trying and failing to hide the stupid grin stretching across his face.

From the back seat, Parker squinted at him. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Booth cleared his throat. "No reason. Just… good day, that's all."

As he pulled out of the school parking lot, his mind was already racing through options—who could babysit on short notice, how fast he could get there, and how not to lose his damn mind before he had Brennan in front of him again.

Tonight was going to change everything.