"Screw love," She preaches to the toilet on a Monday morning, when she's supposed to be getting ready for work. All of those early conference calls and runs to McDonald's for breakfast are ceased. All because of this.
"Bones?" Her husband calls from the bedroom. He knocks on the door. He's clueless. She curses him and his ability to have amazing sex with her. "Bones?" His voice is concerned now and damn right it should be, because here she's kneeling on the cold tile, face-to-face with something she normally puts her ass on. Her husband's ass on. Her face crinkles in disgust.
"I'm fine," Out comes her robotic response.
"You're a terrible liar," She's mouthing the words as he's telling her them. Doesn't he think that she already knows that? Otherwise, they wouldn't be married, because he knew that when she told him they were just partners, she was just scared and blowing him off. Or when every single time she brought up the line- he knew that she was mentioning it so it would stay in his mind, and hopefully, be erased from it.
Her hand reaches out for the door knob as her other flips the lever down. Whoosh. A spray of cold mist dashes across her face. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you sick?"
"No."
"You're throwing up. Unless you're trying to lose weight- which I doubt because you're stunningly beautiful- there's no other reason for you to be throwing up on a Monday morning. Even you wouldn't let the flu stop you from going to work."
"Shut up."
"I'm right and you know it." She wants to reply to his smug comment- she knows he is right, indeed- but her toast and over-well egg appears before her in a stream of dense colors. "Seriously, Tempe, are you feeling bad? Because I'll call Cam and tell her that-"
"You're an idiot." She can tell by the silence that several scenarios are running through his mind. She didn't marry this man because he was an idiot, though. She married him because he could always see the underlying truth of whatever she was telling him.
"NO WAY!"
"Yes way. The proof is in the toilet, Booth."
"You're- nuh uh!" To prove her point, more breakfast appeared. "BONES! BONES! Do you know what this means?"
"That you're going to be making some late-night runs for yogurt and pickles?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"This means we're going to have a baby! A baby! A little you or a little me."
"Statiscally, a child having only one of the parent's DNA and attributes is impossible."
"I love you," He blurts out, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her shoulder, on her neck, on her stomach. "And I love you," He tells her bare stomach, as he lifts up her shirt and his eyes are locked to the area where another heart beats- his child's heart beats.
Then she's sticking her head back into the commode and he's transforming, evolving. What was it that she heard? Men get married, have a baby, and then fall in love? If there ever were a study for that, she would place Booth up as a theory- no hypothesis needed. He's holding her hair back and cooing soft sounds, calming sounds, and as she catches his eye, seeing the sparkle in them and the grin on his face, she wonders why she ever cursed such a beautiful thing- this love, this affection, this trust- in the first place.
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