Here is the first chapter of my new story. I have been trying to bank chapters so that I could update quickly, but I don't want to wait for the premiere to start posting. Hope you like them!

Disclaimer - don't own anything, not even the DVDs :(


Temperance Brennan stood in front of her bathroom mirror. She had been standing here, studying her face in the mirror for 20 minutes. Booth was already in the bedroom, probably asleep, and yet she still stared at her face in the bathroom.

It had started. She knew it was coming. Hormonal imbalance, especially the excess progesterone, during pregnancy can lead to skin problems. And if it were any other person, that logical explanation would be sufficient.

But to the exhausted, nauseous, pimply-faced anthropologist, it was the last straw. She hated being pregnant.

If this is what it was like at week 7 was like, the next 33 were going to be hell (metaphorically speaking of course).

Sure it was just the beginning. Booth was the only person besides herself and her doctor that knew. She wasn't even showing yet. Although she had been nauseous in the mornings, she had not had too many symptoms. That is until she told Booth.

Last week when she had confirmed for herself that she was pregnant and then finally got up the nerve to tell Booth the night Michael was born, she was very happy. Booth was happy, too. The whole idea of pregnancy seemed exciting and thrilling. They had gone back to Booth's apartment that night and well, celebrated.

The next morning, she almost didn't make it to the bathroom before the vomiting started. And it had been down hill from there.

This morning's surprise had been a blemish on her chin. No, she was being kind, it wasn't a blemish; she had been noticing a few imperfections for days now. This was a huge zit.

Now on a normal morning, she could be showered and dressed within twenty minutes. In the past few years, her entire make-up routine had been 4 steps: moisturizer (with built in sunscreen of course), light powder (had to hide the shine from those glaring lab lights), smoky eyes, and lip-gloss (she did work with Booth after all, she had to look good).

Breakouts were nothing new. Throughout high school Brennan had battled breakouts like many others her age. It seemed to be one of the few things she had in common with some of her classmates. Thanks to a kind foster sister, she had been introduced to some concealer, probably stolen from the local drug store.

When college came along and she was on her own, Brennan began eating better and taking better care of herself. The blemishes gradually disappeared. So did the need for the concealer.

But today, for the first time in a long time, the concealer had made its reappearance. She must have still been pretty adept at applying the extra make-up, because Booth didn't mention anything.

Now, getting ready for bed, was the next step. She could see more blemishes along her jaw line and she was determined to stop this breakout before it spread much further.

Opening the face mask that she had picked up on the way home from the lab tonight, she wet her face and applied the bright green blemish-fighting mask. It had taken a while to pick out the right one, but she had chosen the tea tree oil mask for its natural components and after all, it was community traded.

Feeling the cool burn, she checked the container again to see how long she was supposed to leave it on. 10 minutes. The extra hour she had spent on skin care today was beginning to irk her.

She really hoped that Booth was asleep by now. She looked silly with the green goop on her face and she didn't want him to know about her skin problems.

Five minutes later: "Hey, Bones, everything alright in there?" So much for Booth being asleep.

"Yes, Booth, I am just getting ready for bed."

"Bones, we have been staying at each other's apartments, oh, three nights a week since, well you know since when. You have never taken more than 10 minutes to get in bed."

Deciding to face the harmony, Brennan opened the door. "I seem to have a hormonal imbalance that has resulted in skin blemishes," she said with a huff.

Knowing that she had had a rough week and trying to be a good boyfriend, he only chuckled a little before pulling her into his arms. Grabbing a washcloth from the sink, Booth led her over to the bed to sit down.

"Bones, you don't have to hide in the bathroom and put this, stuff, on your face. I know you have zits. You've been trying to hide them for a few days now."

Shocked, Brennan's mouth fell open. "You noticed?"

"Well, yeah, Bones. I look at your face for a good part of the day, I notice these things."

"But, you didn't say anything!"

"Well, no. We started…seeing…each other, what, a month ago? Plus, it's not a big deal. I had pretty bad acne growing up."

"Yes, I have noticed the dimpling, especially along your jaw line."

"See, no big deal. Most people probably haven't noticed at all."

"Thank you, Booth."

"No problem, Babe, now let's get some sleep." Getting up and walking around to his side of the bed, Booth crawled in and waited for Bones to get in as well. They didn't sleep in each other's arms, probably due to both leading single lives for so long. Booth always slept on his back (he was a sniper after all, had to be alert) and Brennan usually was on her side facing him. She would usually give him a quick kiss as she lay down next to him and they would be lulled to sleep by the other's breathing.

But before Booth could enter into dreamland, he felt Brennan tap him on the shoulder.

"Yes, Bones."

"What did you mean when you said we had only been seeing each other for one month. Why did that stop you from mentioning my skin problems?"

"What I meant was that this is still so new and I usually don't start making hygiene comments that early in a relationship," he said sarcastically.

"Oh. But, if we weren't having sex, you would have made joking comments about my skin. Is there some relationship more that I am not aware of that stops one from speaking frankly with the other?"

"No, but usually at the beginning people are more, how did your father put it, 'polite'."

"Oh. Booth?"


"I don't want to be polite. I want to be us."

Booth turned on his side towards her. "I want to be us too. So, next time I will be sure to point out your flaws and mock them appropriately."

"Thank you." With a kiss to the cheek and a good night from both of them, Booth thought that their conversation was over until he heard his whispered name, "Booth?"

"Yes, Bones."

"Don't call me 'Babe'."

"Yes, Dear," he chuckled as they both finally fell asleep.