Created December 2013 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts and Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings.
12/29/2013 A/N: Happy Every Holiday to Everyone! More narrowly to my everyday peeps – Merry Christmas, Happy Festivus, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Belated Solstice and Happy New Year to you!
I'm going to apologize in advance for this story. The title has nothing to do with the story itself. It's based upon a chat I had a while back with Covalent Bond about writing with the best of intention, but fearing that what is produced is less appealing than (S9 spoiler alert!) rangle. This of course will never happen to Covalent Bond, as she is a brilliant and thoughtful author, and we are all better students and fans of the show as a result of her rich stories.
Meanwhile, I find myself stuck with a story that strikes me as the equivalent of "prehistoric sea creatures" (the description used in the Pilot episode to describe diatomaceous earth): it seemed like a clever idea, but in hindsight, it's just plain silly. Lots of imagery, lots of idioms, lots of stream of Booth consciousness, random musical references will come (in this chapter, I give you a hint of Bob Dylan). I have to release though, otherwise I'll never be able to focus on Collide's finale.
Truth be told, I'm out of practice. Sick relatives in the hospital and a year end family wedding have blown my writing rhythm out of whack. So yes, I know! Christmas has come and past. But let the record reflect that this series of vignettes (and its completion) both have a New Year's Eve end date.
...Why do I feel like Hugh Grant as I write this? Oh well! Please forgive!
TWO WEEKS BEFORE XMAS
"You're home." He stated definitively, and with irritation. Checking his watch, it was five minutes to six o'clock. "Are you feeling OK?"
"Yes. I feel fine." She answered distractedly. "I have arrived home before you on many occasions, you know."
Oh yeah, name the last time.
"Yeah, if you are sick, Bones." He quipped. "As rare as that is…."
She should have called.
"Bones, you have to tell me when you decide to pick up Christine from day care, off-schedule." He entreated as he stormed back to his SUV.
It was Wednesday.
When not on a case, he was responsible to pick up Christine from Jeffersonian day care on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. They had agreed to this specifically to give her extra time at the Jeffersonian to play with bones, do research, grade papers, write or whatever. On occasion, Booth and Christine would join her at the office while she worked. But mostly, Booth saw this as a great way to give his darling overachieving genius the time and space to do whatever nerdplay that she wanted. And (though he would never utter these words to her), to keep her tethered to a clock and calendar abided by normal humans.
"Do you know what the traffic's like on Constitution Ave right now? I do! I just had to sit through it to get here! And now, Dr. Cinders thinks that you ran off with Christine again because I didn't know that you were picking her up!" He slammed the car door shut angrily. Before starting the car, he took a moment to catch his breath. He needed to calm the Hell down.
Booth perched his left elbow against the window frame in a futile attempt to massage away his oncoming headache. Were he honest with himself - that thought – the thought that Brennan had left with Christine again - had crossed his mind as well. While he had absolute faith in his wife, he experienced that fear of losing her, of losing them, more often than he would ever tell her. Compliments of his father, he never escaped the doubt that anything good in his life would last.
"Babe, you have to be more considerate, please Bones."
"Yes, Booth. I apologize." She delivered. "I understand that my actions have consequences that may impact you. It was short-sighted of me not to communicate with you that I had changed my plans to return home early with Christine."
He sighed dejectedly as he pulled out of the parking garage. He was way too familiar with that I-know-what-you-want-me-to-say-so-I'll-say-it-so-that-you'll-let-me-get-on-with-my-life tone. He could have predicted her indifference to his frustration. She was uniquely horrible at discerning distinct vocal inflections that informed any range of emotion during a phone call. While her in-person interpersonal skills had advanced tremendously over the years, her ability of detecting verbal cues via the phone…well, it was still crap.
Seeley Booth's heart belonged to an absent-minded professor and there was nothing to be done about it. He would have to confront her directly in order to convey his dissatisfaction. And, fuck all, with this traffic, it would take at least a good thirty minutes to get home now, further cutting into his precious time with his Baby Girl.
Truth be told, his agitation was only partly due to his unnecessary trip to the Jeffersonian. Parker and Rebecca had called earlier to ask Booth's permission to stay in England until the day after Christmas. Rebecca (not Parker) had told Booth that Sarah – Parker's first "proper girlfriend" – and her family had invited them both over to theirs for Christmas supper.
While it warmed his heart that his son was growing up, to Booth, it was the final straw to ruin Christmas. His big hopes plans for his first real family Christmas were scuttled. Now, Parker wouldn't arrive in the States until late on the 26th. Pops was already committed to the holiday with Padme and Jared. Mom and Reggie were doing a set of shows over the holidays that had been booked for months. With Dr. Goetz out of the country for the year, Hayley was under care of a colleague of Cam's at the Mayo Clinic, and so Russ, Amy and the girls had moved to Minnesota. Knowing that Russ would be reluctant to travel with Hayley still in a precarious state, Max had planned on spending Christmas with his son, his family and their cousin Margaret.
As it stood, the only Christmas "family" besides Bones and Christine this year would be Sweets. Not that they weren't more than enough family, but Booth had been looking forward to celebrating this milestone – his first Christmas with his new bride, and their whole family. He wanted to show them off and create new traditions for them. For all that they had been through, they were in such a good place.
Or they would be, after he lectured her when he got home.
"We – I. You. No, I - received…a package from Padme and Jared." She continued. "It's…confusing."
Booth sighed again, tightly gripping the steering column as he inched forward in the otherwise standstill traffic.
Jared.
Not so long ago, Booth and his little brother had been on the right path to a solid, filial friendship, but it had essentially flatlined when Booth and Brennan became a couple.
The parting between the brothers had begun when Jared questioned Booth's decision to return to military action, and then peaked with a smug "I told you so" victory when Jared challenged what he considered to be Booth's insanity of choosing Hannah over Brennan.
And though while the tension of both of these issues had eased, one lingering issue stuck in Booth's craw – Bones and Jared.
Very early in their coupling, Brennan had finally admitted to Booth that yes, Agent Andy Lister was modeled after him. Yet with his elation at her reveal also came paranoia about some of the other characters from her novels, specifically Andy's brother, Ryan.
Given the thinly veiled, semi-autobiographical line that Brennan walked with her stories, Booth was none too amused by the repeated references to Kathy Reichs's affair with Ryan The Scoundrel, Andy's younger brother.
Whatever happened between them, Booth understood that he shouldn't be jealous – Temperance Brennan was his and only his, and proved it to him as often their schedule allowed. Besides, Seeley was more than aware that he and Jared had overlapping dance cards from their youthful Philly days.
But the fact that neither his wife nor his brother ever spoke about their evening and morning together – ever – served as the foundation of his animus. Booth was convinced that if something had happened, it would have been in Jared's nature to boast and Bones' to disclose.
….Unless, something had happened, and both regretted it, and vowed to never speak of it again.
Neither Bones nor Jared ever made a peep, and it had killed Booth. Compounding his unease was Jared's seemingly self-imposed exile at the news that the partners had finally become a couple.
Ugh, the thought of asking either of them about it made him sick to his stomach. If he queried, he knew that Bones would be honest with him. But that was the problem, she'd be really honest, and explicit.
In the end, Booth had concluded that he was perfectly fine not having a close relationship with his little brother.
He had Sweets after all.
But their separate lives meant that they had to share a custody schedule with Pops and Marianne. And Jared "won" Christmas this year.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head as if to erase his thoughts of Bones and Jared. "What's confusing?"
Brennan examined the package. "Well, there's a card that says 'Merry Christmas Seeley'. But the box clearly states 'Temperance, open immediately'."
"Well maybe the card is for me, but the box is for you?" he offered with a tiny hint of sarcasm. Didn't matter, she didn't pick up on it.
"I don't believe so, the packaging clearly denotes that the gift is for you. I'm not sure which of us is supposed to open it."
He rolled his eyes, convinced that his wife was being unnecessarily exacting.
"Just open it Bones. We're a couple. What's mine is yours. I'm sure that Padme bought us something and left it up to Jared to do the signing and shipping and he failed miserably. He's flaky. I tell you that all the time…."
Brennan shook her shoulders at no one and replied. "Okaaaaay…." He listened as she placed the phone on speaker, and began to tear away at the package. "Did you speak with Parker and Rebecca?"
Booth tightened his jaw. Of course Rebecca had called Bones first. These two women had become quite accomplished co-conspirators at "managing" him from two different time zones – Hell, two different continents.
"Yeah, about Parker staying in England until the 26th? You talked to Rebecca?"
"Yes." He could hear tissue paper being unwrapped. "We arranged for the change in Parker's transportation."
She balks at opening a fucking Christmas gift for the both of us, but doesn't blink at making travel plans for my kids without consulting me….
For the third sigh of their discussion, Booth implored "Bones, Parker's my son too, I really wish you would…"
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
Instantly, Booth went from annoyed to alert. "What? Are you okay? Is Christine okay?" checked his options for egress in case he needed to circumvent the traffic.
She chuckled. "Yes, Booth. I'm fine! I've just determined the strategy behind the packaging of Jared and Padme's gift to us. Heh!"
Booth exhaled. "Oh! Phew! You scared me there for a minute. So, what's the gift?"
Brennan looked at the clock. "Booth, Christine's completed her dinner. You'll be home soon. I'd like to get her bathed before you come home so that you can enjoy some time with her before we put her down for the night. We can discuss this later. I love you Booth. "
Feeling properly dismissed, he fumbled, "Huh? What? Oh….okay, I love you-"
CLICK
Again he gripped the steering wheel as with a force that would cut off its anthropomorphized oxygen supply.
Dammit, she can be so. Fucking! Infuriating!
This woman that I love.
He stared at the completed call indicator on his Bluetooth dashboard.
It was going to be a long night.
Forty-two minutes. Forty-two minutes it had taken him to get home. Forty fucking two minutes to get eight miles. Entering through the kitchen, Booth tossed his coat and keys on one of the island stools and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.
Typically, he would wait until either he or Bones put Christine down to grab a glass of bourbon, but today was no ordinary day. It had been a thoroughly miserable day, in fact. A quick nip of a two-finger hit was in order. As his tongue held the first bite of the warm and woody elixir, he listened to the sounds of his wife and daughter from the baby monitor.
"I think that's your Daddy, Christine! Do you want to see your Dada?"
Booth's tension eased at the burst of excitement his name released from his little girl. "Dada home!"
Crummy disposition be damned, he couldn't help but chuckle as he called out. "Bones!"
"It is Christine! It's your Dada!" her voice changed from Animated Mommy, to his partner "we're in Christine's room, Booth."
Booth chuckled again as he hopped over the downstairs gate, up the stairs and over the top gate. (With Christine walking now, their household had become a proverbial red light, green light game). Heading to his daughter's room, he met his wife in the hallway.
"Hey" he said. Conflicting emotions hit him. The first sight of Bones after a long day always soothed his soul, but given his annoyance with her, this time it also resurrected his earlier exasperation.
"Hi Booth." She greeted him with a warm kiss. Sensing his displeasure from his visage and the taste of bourbon on his lips, she diagnosed him. "You've had a bad day." One hand stroked his arm and the other toyed with the short hairs on the back of his Ivy League cut.
Halfheartedly, his hands traced her torso as he attempted to avoid her direct gaze. He was not yet ready to get into it with her. "Yeah, the worst." He cleared his throat. "You know what Bones? I just want to spend some time with my daughter right now. I'm late getting home and I could use a good BG fix right now."
Brennan barely hid the disappointment from her face. It pained her when he was frustrated, as she felt underqualified at mollifying him. "Our daughter does have an unquantifiable skill at inciting joy. I'll leave you two alone." She headed towards the stairs. "I should check on dinner."
He sighed, knowing that he should apologize. "It uh, whatever it is, it smells great." He offered weakly instead. He entered Christine's bedroom relieved to find his baby daughter playing contentedly in her crib, and thrilled to see her Daddy.
Booth looked down at the sleeping angel on his chest and smiled. As prescribed, Christine was just the cure that he had needed to a bad day. The feel of her little heartbeat and her patterned breathing rejuvenated his spirit. He kissed the top of her sweet head before he got out of the rocker/recliner and put her in her crib.
Now he felt in a better place to check in with the woman who had given him this miracle. His perspective had softened significantly. She was just trying to help, he reasoned. He just needed to explain, to remind her – calmly – that they needed to work together on any decisions regarding the kids.
Stretching while he walked down the hall, his nostrils once again picked up the scent of one of his favorite meals – beef stew, and he knew Bones had prepared his mother's recipe.
After Seeley and Jared had moved in with Pops, Marianne would stop by two Sundays a month (while their father was busy at the shop) with a pot of stew, meatloaf or a casserole and spent the afternoon with her boys.
Though their time was limited together, the trio made the best of their Sunday afternoons. And on Sunday nights, Seeley would sleep with Jared in an effort to preempt the inevitable nightmares Jared would have about the fresh set of bruises that Marianne tried to hide from them.
Much to Hank's dismay and grave concern, Marianne stayed with Edwin for fear that he would kill her or himself if she tried to leave him – a fact that Seeley learned only recently. She knew her oldest son agonized at not being able to protect her during that time, and was even more worried when seventeen year old Seeley was tall, strong, and hotheaded enough to confront his father. Fearing her boy's future was in jeopardy if that happened, Marianne removed the risk and disappeared one Sunday night, leaving only Hank with the briefest of notice of her departure.
"Never again" he muttered to himself as he strolled down the hall.
He would never let another woman in his life be forced to run in fear of a man, himself included. In the end, he had killed to protect a violent threat to his family. And he hoped, he prayed, that Pelant - not the simmering rage he fought to control - was the final threat to that happiness.
His happiness. Parker, Christine.
His Bones.
God he loved her.
And he was heading down the stairs to tell her so. Until….
Until.
Thinking that Brennan was in the kitchen, Booth performed his cursory security glance in his bedroom before heading down and was struck by the unexpected movement in his bedroom.
The movement, and the unexpected sight that caught his eye.
What do we have here?
His wife had her back to the door. She was leaning over a footstool, her leg raised on it as she adjusted the line of her stocking.
She was wearing silver thigh high stockings.
Stockings with the line up the back.
On a Wednesday.
This information would have been more than enough to stop him in his tracks, but there was more. He swallowed, bracing both hands on the bedroom door frame, silently mesmerized by the beguiling sight before him.
His wife was wearing a corset. A white corset lined with thin silver detailing at the top and bottom of it. Shiny silver grommets were threaded by a familiar weighted string that laced her up, into and out of the glossy material.
PVC, he thought. She would never wear leather.
The cool winter white of the corset complemented her ivory skin – still kissed with a little color from their honeymoon. The freckles on her shoulders peaked out from the wavy tendrils blanketing her back.
On her head, she wore what appeared to be a Santa hat, but in non-traditional colors – a black cap with white trim.
What the Hell?
He slipped full-on sniper into the room. She had yet to turn around and was still not yet aware of his presence, even as he sat on the edge of the bed watching her, staring. Most specifically, her ass had him love stoned.
Her bottom, which angled out towards him as she continued to adjust her hosiery and garters (Jesus Christ, she was in garters), completely unaware of his presence. On her rear, she wore very brief, black microfiber boy shorts. So brief that her cheeks peeked – no, teased – out at him deliciously.
His pulse begin to throb.
How does she do this to me every time?
His twitching hands battled between propping him up on the bed to enjoy the show versus making the show interactive. He needed, wanted, to touch the most surprising element of her ensemble. Imprinted on the backside of the skimpy shorts was the logo of his favorite hockey team, wide enough to bisect the apples of her bottom from logo's end to end.
Stepping back off the stool, she straightened before realizing that she wasn't alone. She quickly turned toward the bed, her hair sweeping in a way that would make Bacall, Lake and Hayworth proud. Startled, she recovered quickly, encouraged by his obvious interest.
"Whoa." He squeaked out, floored by the vision before him.
Silently, she observed him. Her doe eyes cataloged her husband's obviously positive response to her costume. Dispassionately, she noted the darkening of his questioning eyes; the eager smirk; the throbbing laryngeal prominence; the staccato of his breath; the tension throughout his musculature; his burgeoning member; his waggling right foot.
Completing her initial analysis of Booth's favorable reaction, Brennan formed her hypothesis – revealing clothing with emblems of his favorite sports team would lighten his mood.
"This is Jared and Padme's gift to you." She presented, pivoting ninety degrees each way to give him the opportunity to appropriately survey her costume.
She's too far away. Booth stood up, taking three steps toward her, for the first time noting the Flyers logo that also appeared centered in the white fur of the Santa hat. He beamed.
She could not help but return his smile. "Now you can understand my reaction in revelation of why the gift was addressed the way it was. I determined that you would enjoy seeing it more than an explanation." She shifted.
"I do." he whistled. Placing his left hand against her waist, the other palmed the logo on her backside. He watched his thumb trace the outline of the logo, while his other fingers framed the curve of her rear. "What is this material?" he tugged at the corset, marveling at how the cinching drew out her the pretty lines of her scapulae. "PVC?"
"Definitely some form of polyurethane, but I doubt polyvinyl chloride. The material wouldn't be as stretchy. A polyurethane/polyester blend, I'm sure." She watched his intrigued examination of her garments, finding his boy-like wonder very stimulating.
"Hmm." He murmured, recalling the first time he saw her in her Wonder Woman costume. She was shaped differently then, and yet still, she's the same – all legs, and hips, and breasts.
God look at her breasts.
While the back of the corset laced her in, the front of it hugged it into a sweetheart neckline. His fingers fanned over the silver trim that kissed her bosom. His stubbly face grazed hers as he leaned over her shoulder to again grab her ass. Her arms threaded with his as she pulled him flush to her body. She felt her knees go weak at the realization – he's examining like I examine bones.
His hands pressed against the firm lines of the corset. Her neck began to pink, frustrated by his too light touch. His knuckled knocked on the framing just below her left breast.
"It's hard? This must be uncomfortable." He frowned.
"Not really, it works with the fabric to curve to my frame while simultaneously keeping the shape of the corset." She offered. "What you're touching is referred to as the boning of the corset." She grinned.
His ears book-ended his reciprocating grin at the term. "Boning?" he teased, pulling her right thigh to his side, essentially pressing his erection between her thighs.
He felt her quiver and braced her to him. Her hands anchored his ass, welcoming the delicious ache of his sex pressed to her own. "I wrote a paper on the history of the corset for a Women's Studies course. I know a significant amount about the corset." He pressed his wet lips against her neck. "None of which I can recall at the present time." She moaned.
He ignored her while he trailed sucking kisses up and down the line of her neck. In his carnal haze, he had a moment of clarity: grommets. Laced up with shoelace material. The leathery white top. A black bottom. Silver stockings. "An ice skate!"
"Hmmm?" she mumbled into his neck. She leaned back revealing to him an aroused gaze.
He would get back to that look in a minute. No way had she figured this out.
"This outfit. The material, the colors, the shoelaces in the corset. It represents a lady's ice skate." He laughed.
He watched her catch up. "That makes sense. The attached greeting card made reference to the act of shredding, a term you use often related to playing hockey. The exact phrase was, 'now you can shred without ever leaving the bed.' Her cheek pinched into a lustful grin. "In this case, I believe that shred is code for 'sex'."
He snickered, stepping back to see the theme fully on display before he tore it off of her. Since having Christine, her graceful body had become even more voluptuous, and he couldn't get enough. The supple curve of her hip down to her slender legs. He groaned in anticipation of feeling the conflicting textures of the lace edged stocking, her garter and the warm, creamy flesh of her thighs. And though she was barely moving at all, the subtle jiggle of her ample breasts spilling out of the garment left him boneless – almost.
He was absolutely entranced with her. He mustered up the muscle memory to walk back to her. He assumed his ability to speak would soon follow.
"So, you like this?" she asked, directing him to sit in the chair beside the bed.
He nodded affirmatively as she sat down into his lap. He simpered at the feel of the contrasting fabrics along her thigh.
She looked at him with what he called her sexy schoolteacher reprimand face "I recognize the intention of this outfit is to objectify my features, but I find I rather enjoy that it is just for you. And I really like how you respond to it." She giggled, her body curving into wherever his meandering hands traveled. She loosened his tie. "I also appreciate the integration of the sports team for whom you are so fanatical, that is a very thoughtful inclusion. And, that the design of this undergarment to abstractly represent a skate is quite clever."
Pulling off the tie, she snapped her wrist back quickly, leaving Booth with a tingling sensation where it traveled. Both pairs of eyes flared at Brennan's action, but words were unnecessary. Lovemaking would come later. Sex would come first. Brennan leaned in to devour Booth's mouth.
Loud sex.
The white noise machine would need to be turned on in Christine's room tonight.
But before the sex and the lovemaking, Brennan sought to ensure her cranky partner's demeanor had improved. Lovingly, she outlined the prominent lines of his face with her hand. "I'm sorry that you had a bad day, Booth."
They plucked at each other's lips. Then, she leaned her head back, giving him more access to the breasts being served up to his face. He licked his lips and planted a wet smacking kiss straddling the heave of both before angling his neck back up in need of her mouth.
"I'm sorry that I was angry with you, Bones."
"You were?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes, in the car, Bones. I was mad that you picked up Christine without telling me and that it took me so long to get home. I was mad that you had spoken with Rebecca and made arrangements for Parker's travel without consulting with me. And I was mad that you didn't get that I was mad when we were on the phone." He sighed.
She watched him as she processed what he had just disclosed. "I just assumed you were irritable due to the traffic." She offered apologetically.
"I know." He said, his eyes softening under her gaze.
"I was sincere in my apology about Christine. I understand that you still worry about those things. I do, too." She confessed, recalling how recently she had felt insecure about his love for her. He stroked her cheek, and slid her down slightly for her to put her head on his shoulder. He hugged her at her waist while he continued to finger her garter belt.
"And Parker. You were looking forward to a big family Christmas this year, Booth. I was looking forward to it as well."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." She replied breathily. "I find that, even though we have spent Christmases together in the past, this year – what we suffered through and then they joy of marrying you, of being happy…this is the first Christmas in decades that I eagerly await. And when I found out the news about Parker, I knew that you wouldn't obstruct his invitation, but that it would also disappoint you. So, I decided to do something special for you tonight."
He brightened at her soothing words, while he internally cursed his earlier snap judgments. I am the luckiest man alive. This woman loves me so much.
"So you knew about this outfit coming?" he waggled his eyebrows. My sneaky anthro-
"No. That's merely a coincidence. I'm speaking of picking up Christine on your behalf and preparing Marianne's recipe for beef stew."
"Oh!" He kisses her. "That's very nice of you, Bones. Thank you."
"You're welcome. It pleases me to make you happy."
"You make me very happy, Bones. You make me crazy sometimes, but it's why I love you." She reached over for a nuzzling kiss. They both sighed.
"That stew does smell good" he complimented.
Plucking his shirt buttons undone, she offered "You'll have to let me know if I was successful in its preparation." He snickered as she made a face. She would not eat the stew, but he knew that when Temperance Brennan was given detailed instructions, she could do anything.
"It's ready to consume. I have it warming in the crock pot that Caroline purchased for us, it's a very efficient appliance. I purchased another one for my vegetar-…."
"You know what smells better?" he interrupted.
She considered his question. Given the scents that she knew he enjoyed, she suggested "Well you like, cinnamon, vanilla, chocolate, eucalyptus. Strangely you like the smell of motor oil…"
Booth laughed at his own lapse in specificity with his girl. "I mean you, Bones!"
"Me?" she scoffed.
Gently, he pushed her chin away from him to plunge his tongue back into the dip of her neck. "Mmm, you taste better too."
"Booth!" she giggled and moaned as his mouth speared her neck, shoulders and chest. She squirmed at his pawing, instigating a delightful friction between her bottom and his lap. Even though he had already emancipated her breasts from the corset, he thumbed the first button in the front in a desperate need for even more of her delicate skin.
Unexpectedly, she swatted his hand away and popped up from their wonderful cocoon.
He groaned as she tugged the corset back up over her chest. But she appeased his disappointment with a buxom view as she leaned directly in front of him while she transferred the Santa hat from her head to his.
"I'll be right back. I just want to turn down the crock pot." She defended.
"Woman!" he whined, reaching out to grab her to him. He succeeded at trapping her by her waist in his arms. The innocence of his puppy dog eyes looking up at her were a stark contrast to his wandering hands toying with the flesh between her thighs and on her backside.
"Right back. I promise." She allowed him a quick kiss right below her exposed belly button as she tenderly combed through his hair.
He groaned at her release. The loss of his wife's body pressed to his was saved only by the sight of her Flyers-stamped bottom. Randomly, he wondered if he could talk her into a tattoo.
He leaned back in the chair, kicking off his shoes and loosening his belt and zipper in an attempt to alleviate the always welcome discomfort of what Bones did to him.
She loves to rile me up and then sneak away. Heh, wonder if I can find a 'Cocktease' belt buckle for her, he laughed.
He thought momentarily about his day. Yet again, his two girls had found a way to help him salvage a shitty Wednesday. His little girl gives him unconditional love and joy.
And Bones, she gives me shelter from the storm.
It's going to be a long night.
In a good way.
Looking to seal his karma and good fortune for the night, there was just one little thing that he needed to do to, and then he could really enjoy the rest of his evening.
And he wanted to hurry and do it before Bones returned. He slipped his hand into his pocket, reaching for the solution.
Grunting at the shift in his position, he slid his fingers in a well-practiced motion until he got where he needed.
"Hey Jared. Padme. It's Seeley. Bones and I, we just got your holiday gift. Heh, heh! It's pretty great. I know we're going to enjoy it. Hey so, I know that Pops is planning to spend the holidays with you guys. I was wondering, maybe. If three of you to come up to our place for the holiday. We've got more than enough room for you guys and Pops. And it's been too long…."
A/N2: Wise advice once given to me was to remember that I don't know what happened to someone five minutes, thirty minutes, or an hour before I encounter them. Shiny Happy Me hopes that is the case with Marianne Booth. Don't get me wrong, I do not like that her backstory was squeezed into an hour's episode (compared to Max's, which evolved – and still evolves – over seasons), none of us had a choice but to dislike her. I also think that Joanna Cassidy portrayal of Marianne is borderline creepy. But in my Bones World, Marianne Booth is like one of the women that I've met in support of a battered woman's shelter. Each woman's story is equivalently heartbreaking and infuriating, and so I chose to model my interpretation of Marianne based on someone real. Not perfect, but real.