The haze of heat that had blanketed DC all day still hadn't really broken even though it was dark. Booth finds Brennan sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He holds out the blue slurpy he was drinking (the spoils of an afternoon goofing off with Parker) and smiles a bit when she takes the cup for a long sip.
"I took Parker to a movie," he says as a kind of hello. "Air conditioning almost made the ticket price worth it."
"Did you know that the ancient Persians used to eat muskmelons to naturally lower their body temperature in warm weather?" Brennan says.
"I have to say, Bones, that I'm pretty sure I didn't know that," Booth says. He takes an extra long sip of his slurpy, thinking. "Bet slurpies taste better."
"Booth, cucumis melo is cultivated in many regions of the world..."
"Bones. Slurpies are awesome. Don't knock the slurpy."
As arguments go, it's a pretty ridiculous one, even for them. But Booth figures that if he gets Brennan to wander off on a tangent about some group's ancient ice-tasting festival, then he won't have to think about the finished case file still sitting on his desk, the suspect's sweaty wrists as Booth cuffed him, the empty look on Mrs. Jordan's face as she accepted that her son was truly dead. So right now it's enough to make Brennan wrinkle her nose when he tries to explain how the blue flavoring actually has vitamins in it, and then laugh about the crazy movie he saw with Parker, and share a slurpy, maybe grab something familiar and comforting at the diner later. More than enough.