This story takes place in season 11.
I definitely don't own Bones.
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Sprawled on the bed, Booth had passed out the previous evening with Brennan and hadn't moved since. They had overindulged, but since the kids were at Max's house spending New Year's Eve night there, they had decided to have a little party and boy what a party that was.
Booth had opened the bottle of 2007 Biondi-Santi that Brennan's publisher had given her as a Christmas present. It wasn't often that you got to ring in the New Year with a bottle of wine that cost four hundred bucks and Booth had savored every drop.
After they'd finished that bottle, Brennan brought out the bottle of wine that Hodgins and Angela had given them for a Christmas present. It was a 2010 bottle of Biondi-Santi that had cost two hundred dollars and had tasted wonderful to Booth.
"Should we be concerned that people give us wine for presents?" The last taste of the 2010 wine still on her tongue, Brennan leaned against Booth and laughed. "Maybe they think we're connoisseurs."
Snorting, Booth found that to be funny. "Nah, we just love a good bottle of wine . . . besides I don't think it's safe to be a connoisseur." Helping Brennan down the hallway, the couple finally arrived in their bedroom.
Her hands moving towards the hem of Booth's shirt, Brennan paused and stared rather quizzically at her husband. "Why not? I think we have very discerning taste."
With Booth's eyes locked onto Brennan's hands as she tried to undress him, he shook his head very slowly. "Don't you remember what happened to that wine snob a few years ago that was murdered. That wine maker dumped his body in a wine cask and ruined a perfectly good barrel of wine . . . God, I almost threw up when I heard that those wine connoisseurs drank him . . . oh wait . . . let's not talk about that. I'm feeling a little sick thinking about it."
Her nose crinkled in disgust, Brennan nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, I'm feeling a little nauseous thinking about that right now too." Pulling Booth's t-shirt over his head, Brennan's hands moved to the snap on his jeans. "I couldn't drink wine for weeks after that case."
Booth's hands moving towards Brennan's blouse, he managed to unbutton the shirt without popping any of the buttons off. He knew he was drunk, so he considered that quite an accomplishment. "You should have worn a blouse without buttons, Bones . . . just . . . next time . . . fewer buttons, okay?"
Amused, Brennan smiled, "I wanted to wear this blouse this evening. I bought it just for our little party."
Pulling her against him, Booth kissed her. "Yeah it is a nice blouse, but right now I'm more interested in what's underneath." Sliding her blouse off of her shoulders, Booth glanced down and smiled. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
The zipper on Booth's jeans now open, Brennan frowned at a sudden thought. "I thought you didn't remember what happened right before your brain surgery."
Suddenly tired and just a little woozy, Booth walked over to their bed and sat down. "I didn't then, but I did later. I'm not sure when though . . . man that brain tumor really screwed me up . . . anyway, I remember what happened."
Brennan stared at her husband for a full minute and decided that now might be the time to ask about the baby they had planned to have at that time. Sitting down on the bed next to him, Brennan turned to face him. "Do you remember about my plans to conceive a child using your sperm?"
Shocked, Booth turned his head and stared at his wife. "You did what?"
Because he was so shocked, Brennan regretted mentioning it. "I thought you remembered everything that happened before the surgery. That's what you just said."
Leaning back on the bed, Booth landed on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Well I guess I didn't after all . . . um . . . nope, I don't remember that. Um . . . were we going to um . . . do it or . . . how was that supposed to happen if we weren't a . . . a couple."
She definitely regretted bringing up the topic. "You donated your sperm."
Stunned, Booth sat up and stared at his wife. "Okay, this is just a very weird conversation and I'm too drunk to . . . let's just wait until some other time to talk about this . . . really? . . . my sperm?"
Slowly nodding her head, Brennan patted his knee. "Yes . . . and perhaps this is a conversation that should be had when we haven't imbibed so much wine."
The sounds of fireworks abruptly going off in the neighborhood reminded them that they were supposed to be partying. Placing his arms around Brennan, Booth glanced at the clock and saw it was 12:01. "Happy New Years Bones." Kissing her, he enjoyed the feel of her lips pressed against his. After a rather intense kiss, they separated and laughed.
Motioning for Brennan to follow him, Booth crawled up the mattress towards the headboard, so that he was now lying fully on the bed. Pulling her into his arms, Booth yawned. "I think we should have stuck to one bottle of wine."
Snuggling against her husband, Brennan closed her eyes. "Yes . . . probably so."
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A loud clanging near his head, Booth was yanked from a deep sleep. Leaping out of bed, he gasped and placed his hands over his ears. Not sure what was going on, Brennan pulled her pillow over her head and tried to block the noise from penetrating her brain.
Reaching out and grabbing the bell from his daughter's hand, Booth tossed it on the nightstand and sat down on his bed. "Honey, what are you doing?"
Glancing at the open doorway, Christine pointed at her grandfather. "Grandpa Max gave me the bell to ring in the New Year. He said it was tra . . . tra . . . traditional."
His eyes filled with hatred, Booth glared at his father-in-law. "I think your Grandpa Max and I are going to have a little conversation later." Placing his hands over his ears, he swallowed. "Not now though."
Chuckling, Max motioned for Christine to come to him. "Hey Honey. Let's go make breakfast for your Mommy and Daddy. You know . . . bacon, pancakes, some fried eggs, maybe some hashbrowns . . ." Much to his amusement, Booth bolted to the bathroom where he heard the poor man throwing up. "Well, maybe some toast." Calling out to his daughter, Max took Christine's hand in his as she drew close. "Tempe . . . I'm going to watch Christine and Hank today. You two go back to sleep . . . Oh, Happy New Year."
The door almost closed, Max heard his daughter's reply, "I don't feel the happiness part, Dad."
Unable to help himself, Max laughed. "Come on Christine. Let's go watch TV. Mommy and Daddy don't feel well right now. They had too much fun last night."
Releasing his hand, Christine skipped down the hallway to the living room. "Maybe Daddy will give me my bell back later."
Solemnly, Max followed her into the living room. "I'm sure he will, Sweetheart."
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Happy New Year everyone! I hope you have a wonderful 2016.