The lab was peaceful that morning — which at the Jeffersonian meant only two bone saws running and zero explosions from Hodgins’ corner. Brennan was cataloguing a clavicle, Cam was reviewing tox screens, Angela was sketching the victim’s face, and Booth was hovering near Brennan like he wasn’t bored out of his mind.

Colin Fisher was pretending to work. You were actually working.

Which was why the universe decided to ruin everything.

“So,” Brennan said conversationally — too conversationally — as she lifted a femur to the light, “I discovered yesterday that my sister and Colin Fisher are engaged in a romantic relationship.”

The entire platform froze.

Cam dropped her pen. Angela gasped so loudly Hodgins looked up from across the lab like someone had died. Booth choked on absolutely nothing.

You slapped your forehead. “Brennan—”

“Oh.” Brennan blinked. “Was that private? It didn’t seem private. You were kissing quite overtly in the Bone Room.”

Fisher made a noise somewhere between a dying owl and a man giving up on life entirely. “Please bury me under the platform,” he muttered. “Preferably somewhere the interns won’t find me.”

Angela squealed. “YOU and FISHER? Oh my God, sweetie, that is so cute and weird and cute again!”

Hodgins jogged over with the excitement of a man who loves workplace drama more than air. “Hold on, hold on — Fisher? Depressed Fisher? You’re dating him?”

Before you could answer, Fisher raised his hand weakly. “I am the unfortunate party, yes.”

Cam pinched the bridge of her nose. “Colin. Please tell me you have not been compromising the lab with—”

“We haven’t!” you blurted. “There has been zero compromising! No funny business near the bones!”

Booth pointed two fingers at Fisher again — it was becoming a habit. “Buddy, I swear, if you—”

“I didn’t even initiate it!” Fisher yelped, then immediately backtracked. “Not that I wouldn’t. I mean — she’s lovely. Warm. Functional. Why am I still talking?”

Hodgins clapped him on the back hard enough to jostle him. “Relax, man. Honestly? I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I didn’t,” Fisher said. “She… installed it.”

Angela beamed. “Oh, he’s gone. This is precious.”

Brennan, completely unfazed by the explosion she’d caused, continued working as if she hadn’t detonated a social bomb in the middle of the lab.

“Statistically,” she added, “relationships formed in high-stress environments can create higher oxytocin bonds. That must be why Fisher’s depressive tendencies lessen around her.”

Everyone turned to look at Fisher.

He went red. “I hate this place.”

You squeezed his hand under the table — a tiny secret in a room where nothing was secret anymore.

And Brennan finally looked up from her bones, frowning thoughtfully.

“Why is everyone reacting? I merely stated an observable fact.”