Disclaimer: I own nothing Bones related except my imagination.
A/N: I wanted to do something with an Easter theme, but my puckish muse was not in the mood for sweet and sentimental and I ended up with this not so prim-and-proper piece instead. This will be presented in 3 chapters, hopefully posted one a day, now through Sunday but I've a lot of writing to do still to make that happen. In the meantime, hop along and start reading.
As always, feedback is appreciated (and helps keep me focused ….)
Brennan was sitting at the dining table in the sun room, enjoying the warm early spring sunlight filtering in through the windows while working on a chapter for her latest forensic crime mystery novel when Booth and Christine came clambering in, disrupting her peaceful haven.
"Heya, Bones," Booth greeted her cheerily, coming over and giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "We stopped on the way home from church and picked up some doughnuts from that little Dutch bakery you like."
"We gots you a glazed one Mommy," Christine chimed in excitedly. "Daddy let me eat a really big one that had chocolate frosting with pretty sprinkles in different colors on it."
"Hmmm. I can see that," said Brennan affectionately while Booth ducked into the kitchen, guiltily avoiding eye contact with her. "It looks like you still have some of that chocolate from your doughnut on your face. Go on into the bathroom and clean up, face and hands, okay honey? Then you can go to your room and change out of your church clothes and into some play clothes."
"Okay Mommy," Christine answered before turning and skipping merrily down the hallway to do as her mother instructed.
"Make sure to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," she hollered after her daughter.
Brennan cocked an eyebrow at Booth and gave him a stern you-ought-to-know-better look. "She doesn't need a sugary treat every time you guys leave the house, you know. Neither do you."
With a slightly abashed look on his face, Booth responded, "I know Bones. But, it's such a pretty day outside today. One of the first really nice days we've had since winter set in and I just felt like doing something fun and special with her. Besides," he flashed her his best charm smile while placing her glazed doughnut on a plate and setting it in front of her along with a fresh cup of coffee, "it gave you a little more time to yourself to work on your book and I thought you'd appreciate that."
Rolling her eyes at him and his blatant attempt to divert her ire, she picked up her doughnut and took a bite. "Mmmm. This is really good."
"They're super fresh. The ones Christine and I had were still warm when we ate them." Booth said as he sat down at the table beside her with the newspaper and started to scan the sports section while she continued with her late-morning snack.
By the time she finished eating her treat, she'd mostly lost her desire to fuss at him. "Okay. Admittedly, that was very tasty, so thank you for getting it for me. However, maybe you can try and refrain from giving her anymore sweets for a couple weeks, hmm? Think that's possible?"
Booth tried, unsuccessfully, to keep from squirming in his chair when her crystal blue eyes speared him with a promise of retribution if he didn't adhere to her suggestion. "Well, uhmm, actually that's not really possible right now Bones. Next weekend is Easter and our church always hosts a big Easter egg hunt for the children. Christine's already looking forward to it and she's bound to come home with a basket full of candy." As he noticed her brows furrowing together, he quickly came up with a compromise. "But, after Easter, I promise I'll try to lay off the sweet treats with her for a bit, okay?"
"Your religion defines Easter as a holiday for celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ following his crucifixion by the Romans. I don't see why it's necessary for our daughter to root around in a garden looking for fake eggs full of candy to stick in a pastel colored plastic basket in order to honor that belief. There's no logical correlation between the two events. Are you planning to have an Easter bunny there as well?" she asked in that slightly superior and somewhat dismissively arrogant tone she often adopted when debating Booth on matters involving religion.
"Weeelllll . . ." Booth responded hesitantly, looking down to where his hands were clasped together in front of him, fingers entwined. "Actually . . . I was going to talk to you about that."
The tone of his voice immediately putting Brennan on alert and making her suspect she wasn't going to like where this conversation was headed. "What? Why talk to me?"
"I, uhm . . . well, I was hoping that maybe, um, maybe you'd be willing to dress up as our Easter Bunny for us?"
"No."
"You know, since it's for the sake of the children?" he pressed on, ignoring her refusal.
"No."
"You'd be ideal since you're not involved in any of the other church activities," he reasoned.
"No."
"Besides, you're the right size for the costume we've got."
"You're kidding me, right? That's why you want me? I'm the right size?"
"No, I'm not kidding. You'd be perfect."
Hazarding a glance her way, Booth saw Brennan glaring at him mutinously and he sighed deeply, resigning himself to begging if necessary. Drastic times require drastic measures, but he wasn't giving up on reasoning quite yet. "Look, Betty Trimble was all set to be the Easter bunny for us, but she tripped on some stairs last week and twisted her ankle pretty severely so she's on crutches for the next few weeks. We can't have the Easter bunny on crutches. Derek Thompson said he'd fill in, but he fills the costume a little too full and can't close the zipper all the way. Margie Smith offered to take Betty's place, but Margie is only 5'-1" tall and the costume is way too big for her. Talk about a floppy bunny. But you're perfect. At 5'-9" tall and with a figure that's …" Booth shook his head in awe while his eyes ran over her body appreciatively, "… a gorgeous figure that's only full where it should be, the costume would fit you perfectly. Best damn looking bunny ever."
"Booth," she argued, ignoring the warm fuzzy feelings generated by his flattery, "I am an atheist. I don't believe in Jesus. I don't believe in Easter. And I certainly don't believe in Easter bunnies. Don't you think it would be hypocritical, if not flat out sacrilegious, for me, of all people, to partake in your festivities dressed as a giant Lepus curpaeums?"
Booth plopped his elbow on the table and rested his cheek against his hand while grinning at her fondly. Hot damn – she's speaking squint. She always reverted to speaking squint when she felt she was starting to lose an argument, hoping the big words would intimidate her opponent. She was going to cave. "Man, you have no idea how much I love you Bones. You'll do great." He cranked up the wattage of his smile and gazed at her with his warm brown eyes. "You'll see. It'll be fun."
Exasperated, Brennan continued to balk, although his obvious happiness and faith in her eventual capitulation was wearing her resistance down and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to hold out. "No, Booth. I said no. Hell, I'd make a better Playboy bunny than a damn Easter bunny," she grumbled. "At least I believe in physical beauty and sex."
Anyone who knew Booth knew that he was a fan of vintage 1950's to 1970's paraphernalia and since the Playboy bunnies were essentially a product of the 1960's to 1970's, not to mention a frequent inspiration for his teen year masturbatory activities, the image that popped into his mind of Brennan dressed in a classic Playboy bunny outfit was his ideal fantasy fodder and he felt the immediate swelling of his anatomy south of his belt line. "Jesus Bones. Just the thought of you as a Playboy bunny has me hard as a rock. Seeing you actually dressed that way would probably kill me."
"Yeah?" a grin slowly slid across her face and she smiled at him with wicked interest, leaning his direction.
"Oh yeah," he confirmed, leaning towards her too, until their faces were only inches apart, looking directly into her eyes the way they'd lost themselves so many times before. "If I didn't expect our daughter to make an appearance any minute now, I'd haul you out of that seat and fuck you right now, right here on the dining table," he growled throatily at her.
Brennan couldn't say how long they stayed frozen that way, each of them envisioning him acting on his claim as they stared back and forth. All she knew for sure was that they both were breathing quicker than normal, Booth's eyes were dilated and she assumed hers were too, and her nipples had pebbled into hard little nubs, aching for his attention. She was aroused by the simple knowledge that he was aroused by her.
Despite the looming threat of being interrupted by their underage chaperone, she closed the gap and let her lips slide sensuously across his, her tongue drawn irresistibly into his mouth to tangle and entwine with his only to be chased back into her mouth by his tongue as he aggressively explored her lips, her teeth, and the insides of her cheeks. His tongue stroked hers deeply, then retreated so his teeth could nip the plump flesh of her lips only to soothe her with the warm and wet sucking caress of his lips before repeating the sequence again.
They didn't touch anywhere except where their mouths intersected, both realizing on some level that any more contact might make stopping nigh impossible and this wasn't the time or place. That didn't mean his cock wasn't as hard as steel for her or her panties weren't soaked with desire for him.
"Ugh, Daaaddyyy. Why are you always kissing on Mommy like that?"
The predictable sing-song little voice of Christine causing them to finally, reluctantly, break apart.
"She started it," he answered.
In a voice that was low and husky, Brennan whispered just loud enough for his ears only, "I'm still not dressing up as an Easter bunny no matter how much I like your kisses."
"Can I watch a Barbie movie? Please?"
"Just one, then you need to play something else." Booth answered her before whispering to Brennan that he needed a few minutes to calm down before he could get up.
His eyes followed Brennan thoughtfully as she left the table to help their daughter start her movie and he pondered his bunny dilemma.
Asking her outright hadn't worked.
Reasoning with her hadn't worked.
Charming her hadn't worked.
Seducing her hadn't worked either.
It was obviously time to pull the big guns out of his arsenal.
As Brennan sat back down in front of her computer at the table, Booth made his pitch. "Okay Bones. Here's my proposition for you. Friday, five days from now, is Good Friday, commemorating the crucifixion and death of Jesus. If you can make it until midnight, Friday night, without making any comments about faith, religion, my God, or Easter that could be considered offensive or disparaging OR if I can't make it until midnight Friday without eating another sugary sweet treat, then you're off the hook on the bunny costume. But, if you make any controversial or annoying comments AND I manage to resist all sweets, then Easter Sunday morning I expect you to dress in a fluffy white bunny suit and entertain the children of my church congregation with a smile and a swish of your fluffy cotton tail."
Booth was certain she'd bite as Bones could never resist a competition. Unfortunately for him, her accepting his challenge didn't guarantee the outcome.
"What if I win?" she asked. "Won't it be too late for you to start looking for someone else to wear the costume that close to Easter?"
Booth sighed in resignation. Here comes the cherry on top. "If you win Bones, then I'll wear the bunny costume on Easter. It'll be a little tight in the shoulders and I doubt I'll have quite as much mobility as you would, but I can make it fit."
The possibility of seeing Booth dressed as an Easter bunny was too enticing to resist.
"You have a deal, Booth. Bring it on over."
A/N: Let me state right now that it is not my intention to be disrespectful of anyone's religious beliefs or of a holiday that is significant to many people so I will apologize in advance if I cause any offense (not that I am expecting to but religion can be a quirky thing).
So . . . who do you think will make a better bunny?