Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
Naps
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Angela has a little picture in her scrapbook of young Christine and Michael asleep on each other's shoulders on the couch in her office at the Jeffersonian. They couldn't have been more than nine or ten years old at the time. They were dragged to the Lab at three in the morning because their parents had a fresh lead in the triple murder homicide case they were tirelessly working on, and the children were still too young to stay home alone. Angela remembers the night so vividly; Hodgins and Brennan fluttered around the Lab space, reevaluating evidence and bouncing theories off of each other while Booth argued with Cam about the killer's possible motives.
Meanwhile, Angela poured herself a cup of fresh coffee. Then, she led a very tired Michael and Christine into her office and placed them on the couch together. Michael yawned into the shoulder of his bug-themed pajamas, Christine leaned into his side, and the two were fast asleep against each other before Angela could find a blanket to tuck them in with.
With a soft smile, Angela wrapped the sleeping children in a knitted throw blanket, and then paused to snap a quick picture of the scene while she waited for her computers to load.
The way Christine had her head on the boy's shoulder and the way Michael's arm curled around the crook of her elbow protectively was too sweet to not capture.
More often than not, it is Angela who catches Michael and Christine when they accidentally fall asleep together.
Sometimes, they're up in Michael's room doing math or biology homework when Angela finds them. Michael is asleep with his head next to the keyboard on his computer desk and Christine is curled up with the textbook open next to her on the end of his bed.
Sometimes, they're cuddled up together on the couch on the upper level of the Lab for what was supposed to be a quick power nap, but instead lasted until their parents woke them up hours later when it was time to go home for the night.
Sometimes, they don't even find a couch or a bed. There have been weeks where they spend more time at the Lab than at home, and Angela often finds Christine and Michael fast asleep sitting side-by-side against the wall in the quiet Limbo stairwell, or in the darkest corner of Brennan's office.
Regardless, Angela is usually the one who finds them asleep together. She'll chuckle softly to herself as she gently pulls off their shoes and places them on the floor beside them. She'll hit the save button and turn off their laptops, or shut the textbooks and put them in a neat stack. If she can find one close-by, she'll throw a blanket over the teenagers.
They need their rest.
When Angela stumbles upon Michael and Christine during finals week of their junior year of high school, they're huddled around the coffee table in her office. Christine is asleep with her head on her history textbook and a pen still resting in her hand, and Michael doesn't look too far behind her. He is pouring over his chemistry notes for the fiftieth time, but Angela notices the quadruple-stacked empty cups of coffee behind his laptop.
She takes the remnants of his last coffee away from him, and ignores his yawned protests as she shuts his laptop and tells him to take a quick nap on the couch.
Michael, Angela, and Hodgins are jet lagged when they get home from their two-week European vacation over the summer. For the next three days, Christine finds Michael asleep in various places around the Lab.
The couch in Angela's Office, a comfortable chair on the upper level that overlooks the lab space, under a table in Limbo.
The most memorable was when she stumbled upon him asleep and snoring softly on the floor of the janitor's closet. His back is leaned against the shelves, his head rests on the shelf next to a spray bottle of disinfectant cleaner.
She smiles and rolls her eyes, but she doesn't wake him up. She leans down, places a soft kiss on his forehead, and closes the door quietly behind her.
Michael loves moments like this.
They're cuddled together on the old, worn couch of their apartment when he wakes up from their nap.
Their apartment.
Their shoes are kicked off haphazardly next to the empty paint can on the floor. The windows are open, inviting the spring breeze into the house. The room smells of drying paint – a fresh, soft, buttery yellow adorns the living room walls.
Christine is asleep on Michael's chest, her breathing is soft and slow. Her legs are tucked beneath her and her arm is placed across his stomach. Michael smiles when he glances down at her face and notices the smear of dried yellow paint across her cheekbone. He wraps his arms tighter around her shoulders and waist.
He remembers letting his eyes close for another minute before Christine stirs awake.
"Hey baby, are you awake? We're having dinner at your family's house tonight and we should really get cleaned up..."