Author's Note: The plan is to post one chapter every day for the next two weeks. Assuming my plan is better thought out than Booth's, the last chapter goes up on Valentine's Day.

By now many of you know how wordy and angsty I can get. This began as a winter break experiment to see if I could produce 12 chapters that were short and sweet, the challenge being less than 1000 words of pure fluff and fun in each chapter. I didn't quite finish in time to post it last December.

Given that it's too late for Christmas, you're probably wondering why I'm posting a Christmas story full of fluff now, in February. This is for Razztazztic, because she did not get enough fan fiction fluff for Christmas and this story is pretty much nothing but fluff. I'm serious. I mean, if you blow away all the fluff and squint just a little, you might find a plot hiding somewhere underneath, but don't count on it.

Right then.

My challenge is simple, but Booth and Brennan's is considerably more difficult: survive a comedy of errors while claiming a Christmas tree.

Can they do it?

Can I...?

Set in season four.

The Care and Keeping of Christmas Trees

Rule #1: You never go alone

"It's tradition," he insisted.

"You were raised in Philadelphia … how is traipsing into the countryside to fetch a fir tree any kind of city slicking tradition?"

"City Slick-er. And it just is."

Brennan pursed her lips, glancing around her office doubtfully. "I have work to do…"

"You always have work. It's not going anywhere."

Hmm, that was a perfectly rational rebuttal, causing her to reach further out into the realm of emotional excuses. "But what about Parker…?"

"He's with Rebecca this weekend and I want the tree up before I get him again next week."

"But shouldn't he help you procure and decorate the tree?"

"Bones," he murmured, coming closer and pulling her to stand by her hand. "When was the last time you decorated a Christmas tree?"

"Me?" Her eyes went a bit wide at the surprising question and then hazed over as she turned inward to calculate an accurate answer. "Eighteen years."

Warm fingers twined tightly with hers, and he was so close she had to tip her head back a little. Sorrow tinged his voice and she felt the tip of his nose brush ever so briefly against hers—sending her pulse into tachycardia—before he stepped away and favored her with a charm smile. "Seventeen years too long. We need to do something about that."

Reminding herself that she was a rational adult who could not be lured into reckless endeavors on just the draw of her partner's charming smile, Brennan repeated his plan out loud. Just to make it clear he understood how ill conceived it truly was. "By driving out into the country just barely ahead of a predicted snowstorm, to fetch a living fir tree from the forest?"

"That's right."

Seeley Booth knew fate was on his side: any moment she would give in (if only to be present as a witness to his comeuppance) so that was why he'd moved over to her coat tree to fetch her warm, winter coat that she'd worn today in anticipation of the approaching winter weather.

"What are you planning to use to cut it down?"

"An axe."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't a saw be the preferred tool? I could lend you a bone saw."

Her partner's horrified refusal came sputtering just behind the coat he was still gamely proffering. "No creepy dead people saws are to be used on a Christmas tree."

"Why not? By cutting it down you are effectively killing the tree, thus turning it into a 'creepy dead thing.'"

"It's not the same!"

Brennan shrugged. "I see no discernible difference."

"Just trust me on this, okay? I am the Christmas tree expert around here." He shook the jacket invitingly. "So, are you coming…?"

Arms crossed, her toe had begun tapping. "Only if you let me bring the bone saw."

"Bones…."

"No saw, no Bones." Hearing herself, she laughed. "Hey, that's funny! Because you call me Bones and I cut into bones with a bone saw."

"Yeah, hilarious." While she was gloating over her pun, he'd spun her around and managed to get one sleeve slid up the length of her arm.

"I am becoming quite amusing," she decided.

Fondly tweaking her ear, Booth brought the jacket around and worked it over her other arm. "Don't quit your day job."

"You mean stop working at the Jeffersonian? Why would I do that…?"

"Exactly."

~Q~

Author's Note: The best misadventure I ever survived involved getting a Christmas tree the old school way. It went something like this...