Home Again at Christmas
A/N: To those of you reading my Christmas stories, I apologize for the lapse in posting new material. My kids home from college had a plethora of mom-needs, which I am always only too happy to oblige, and the imminent Christmas celebrations have caught me behind in my preparations. Here is my latest. Please note that you will need to suspend a few Boothy facts to enjoy this, because my premise places Pops still living in Philadelphia in the home he bought with Gram after WWII, for the sake of nostalgia.
Booth awakened slowly with a sense of deja vue. The subtle but very familiar scent of his former home assailed his nose as he opened one eye. The bedsprings creaked as he shifted in the double bed. Brennan was asleep next to him, her back curled into the curve of his chest. While not as cramped as the trailer home bed they'd shared as Boris and Natasha, it was not nearly as spacious as their bed at home. Careful not to wake her, Booth slipped his legs out from under the covers, flexing his feet to counteract their achy protest. He pulled on his robe and tiptoed out of the room.
Walking quietly down the hall, he skillfully dodged the squeaky floorboards out of habit. Descending the narrow stairway to start the coffee, he smiled at the well-remembered living room, Pops' easy chair, and the Christmas tree next to the fireplace. Booth went to the kitchen and opened a cabinet above the toaster without thinking. A place for everything and everything in its place, Seeley, he heard Gram say. The Folgers canister was still right there. Humming "Angels We Have Heard on High", Booth measured coffee, filled the carafe, and switched on the Mr. Coffee. He grinned to himself, remembering the year he'd bought its predecessor with his paper route earnings. His grandparents had protested that it was too fancy, they preferred their old percolator, but had loved it ever since.
Retrieving the newspaper from the front stoop, Booth inhaled deeply. The smell of Philly was as precious to him as the "American widdout" from Rosie's. "Gotta get Bones to try at least a bite!" he thought to himself, "Wonder if Rosie could whip up a soy burger version." Booth sat down at the kitchen table, unfurled the paper, executed the subway fold, and perused the sports page for a few minutes, before opening the fridge to remove the eggs and turkey bacon he'd purchased the night before. As he reached for a skillet, the doorway was filled by a tall, slightly stooped plaid-wrapped figure.
"Morning, Shrimp, whatcha' doing, takin' over my job of fixin' breakfast?"
"I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed, Pops."
"Humph, that was your grandma's thing. I like to eat with my feet on the floor," his grandfather informed Booth as he filled a Flyers mug with coffee.
"Okay, then, you want scrambled or sunny-side?" Booth asked.
"Scrambled's easiest," came the reply. "Just don't scorch my toast this time," Pops added slyly.
"I haven't burnt the toast in years!" Booth protested, grinning back. He moved to the table and placed an arm around the still-broad shoulders.
"It's really good to be home again for Christmas; I'm glad you suggested this," he said softly. "How many times I woke up to the smell of your coffee and Gram cooking breakfast. Funny how scents take you back. This house and the neighborhood smell the same. Almost seems like I never left."
"Yeah, I felt the same at your Great-Gramma's house, Shrimp," Pops responded. Looking up at his grandson, his face turned serious.
"I've been thinkin' about getting' an apartment. I'm gonna miss this place, but I think it's time for me to sell. The yard's getting' to be a pain, and I'd like to travel a bit before I'm too stove up. Whatcha' think about that idea?"
"You need to do whatever's best for you, Pops. Bones and I can come up and help you get it ready to put on the market. Maybe wait until spring when people can appreciate Grams' daffodils and azaleas."
"Yup, I've had to keep tending those, or Margaret would come back and haunt me!" his grandfather laughed.
"I think she'd be pleased, you've done a good job, Pops. I'm going to take Bones up some coffee. There's a lot I want to show her today. You want to take a drive with us later this morning?"
"That'd be nice, maybe we could go over to Longwood Gardens. Wonder if we could get tickets for the light tour tonight; they've been advertising it on the radio. I'll call them after I get a shower," Hank said.
Hearing footsteps, the two Booth men turned to find Brennan watching them from the hallway.
"Good morning, you two. That coffee smells wonderful. I'd love to see the Christmas lights. I've always wanted to visit Longwood Gardens. The tour will be my treat!" She smiled fondly at the identical brown eyes, crinkled foreheads, and broad grins greeting her as Booth pulled out a red-clad chrome kitchen chair so she could join them.