Socks with Skeletons
Disclaimer: Last I checked I don't own Bones. If I did this scene would be on TV...
Summary: Dr. Temperance Brennan is enjoying the simple pleasure of Halloween night; a few diet killer candy bars. Though she is shocked out of her reverie by an uninvited knock at the door. Enter Seeley Booth.
Author's Note: Many of you will probably be disappointed in the lack of a kiss in this fic but I just felt like it had to end where I stopped it. My test of whether I wrote this well or not is based on whether or not you could imagine this playing out on the show. I could, so I decided to post it and bare my soul for you all. Reviews equal love. Without further ado, here's my fic. Enjoy!

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Halloween : Noun. Day set aside for the brutal murder of one's dietary precautions. Cause of death is engorging one's self with the weapon of choice; the simple, smooth, decadence of a chocolate bar. Or two. Or three.

Torn metallic scraps littered the floor and sofa, surrounding the culprit with a horde of undeniable evidence. Her impoverished, impatient fingers scavenged through the remnants of candy in the bowl, ever searching for the sweet release of Sir Milton Heresy himself. Ripping the wrapping in climacteric manner, she plunged its saccharine taste towards her lips, savoring the languid melt of it over her moist tongue.

As it all too soon disappeared, her ever thoughtful mind perused the liberal use of the term 'fun size' to describe a chocolate bar. She couldn't understand the fun in having less candy. And the ploy marketers endowed of shrinking the mass and raising the price all seemed rather unfair to her.

Yes, this is how Dr. Temperance Brennan passed her Halloween nights. Home, on the couch, in a solo feast of all things sugar. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her professionally elegant work attire; navy silken shirt, grey, pinstriped suit jacket paired with a twin pencil skirt.

The only touch to her outfit to suggest a hint of domestic comfort were the jet black socks, scrunched over her feet, embellished with the silliness of dancing skeletons in a rain storm of candy corn. A gift, from none other than Special Agent Seeley Booth. He'd said something about how the absurdity of the garment was the perfect blend of their partnership; crazy socks and bones. After he'd bought himself a couple, he couldn't resist going back to the store to buy her a matching pair as well.

Lackadaisically she straightened the sock, stretching it out over the calf of her leg with a sigh, so engrossed in the task of wrinkle free footwear that the abrupt knock on the door pulsated through her reverie causing her to lose contact with the couch amidst a chilling jump. Confusion tingled up her spine as she shuffled to stand, padding her way over towards the source of the disturber of her peace. As far as she knew, no kids occupied this apartment complex. Therefore there would be absolutely no need for the American holiday tradition of exchanging treats to adolescents in the hopes of not being tricked. And though rare, the occasion did come when she was proved wrong.

"Trick or treat!" Sang a melody of two distinctly familiar voices as her door was swayed open. It was Booth and tonight his gaze held a mischievous glint, his eyes widened slightly with excitement and a smile of awe, causing him to share a strong resemblance with the child at his side, his son, Parker.

Halloween : Noun. An excuse to walk around in a thoroughly ridiculous costume and a reason to trade in your true identity for the alias of your hero.

Parker's hands clutched the handle of a pumpkin orange, plastic, jack-o-lantern hollowed out into a sort of candy shopping bag. His giddy smile was eclipsed by the crested shadow of an ebony mustache and braided, beaded beard. Atop his head sat a pintsized, tri-corner hat with built in dread locks to boot. Companion of a chartreuse parrot rested on his shoulder with the aid of a rolled up tab of duct tape, completing his sea worthy fashion.

As for Booth, he merely donned a steel blue t-shirt marked with the iconic symbol of a prominent, red and gold embroidered 'S' and crimson cape trailing down his back and stopping at the floor behind him. He had slicked back his hair with a goopy gel giving him appearance of Superman, faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive.

Brennan parted her lips to speak, though words were lost in her throat. Her eyes narrowed, her nose crinkled as she looked them over with a mixture of amusement and chagrin clearly manifested on her face.

"Booth...what are you doing here?" She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't contain the trace of a smile his infectious attitude was spreading to her as she dug her hand through the candy dish, managing to find a few pieces of chocolate she hadn't yet devoured to offer Parker.

Booth chuckled slightly at her words, adverting his eyes for a moment, before turning back to face her. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Aw, come on, Bones...you told me you weren't doing anything and, well, me and Parker could use another buddy to trick or treat with." His grin held a new devastatingly charming and irresistible quality to it on this night of all nights.

She sighed, scoffing mildly at his words, slipping a fallen, curled tendril of auburn hair behind her dainty ear, though she shook her head softly, "I don't even have a costume..." Brennan commented, as her gape gravitated down to the suit that still graced the curves her form.

"If anyone asks, you'll be...the Lois Lane to my Clark Kent." He raised an eyebrow at her teasingly and jestingly, his tone and expression used as effortless bait to turn coax her into the answer he wanted to hear.

Brennan teeth ground into her scarlet glossed lip, chewing at it gently as she wiggled her foot in the soles of her paten leather pumps, slipping them on near the doorway. Those two smiles looking back at her weren't exactly easy to say no to. With an air of impish reluctance she stepped out to join them, her catchphrase pouring, systematically from her lips,

"I don't know what that means."

Halloween : Noun. Holiday upon which it is customarily accepted that matching costumes signify a couple to be.

THE END.