Disclaimer: Unfortunately neither of us own, nor are we in any way involved in, the production of Bones. That said, if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan are reading this – and don't tell me they don't read Fan Fiction, half of the plots for Season 4 were poorly disguised fanfic, (it should be noted my lovely co-author disagrees vociferously, she maintains the actual amount of purloined fan-fiction would account for at least half of every season since Season 3, but we digress) – we work cheap, we are demons for continuity, and we have an understanding for basic maths, history, and grammar. Having said all that, I realize I may have just priced us out of the market. Bugger all.
Synopsis: It's the partners' first Halloween together as a family, and while Brennan and Booth ponder their costume options for the Jeffersonian Gala, the real question that plagues them is...whatever will Christine wear?
A/N: In determining Christine's age (read: arguing about it), we figured she is approximately 9 months old, more or less.
The First Halloween – Pumpkins, Beetles, and Squints, oh my!
"How about a pumpkin?" Cam suggested.
"No," Brennan said firmly as Booth said, "See, that's what I was thinking."
"Too ordinary," Angela chimed in. "Half the kids are dressed as pumpkins at that age. At least that's how it appeared last year when we took Michael out."
"Really?" Wendell asked, suddenly joining the conversation.
"Absolutely, and not just pumpkins, though they're probably the most popular," added Hodgins. "You'll see kids dressed up like strawberries, carrots, tomatoes; I think we even saw a zucchini last year."
"That's because the kids just sit there like vegetables," murmured Wendell; unfortunately, both Brennan and Booth heard.
"It's clear you have never held a nine-month-old child, Mr. Bray," Brennan said dangerously.
"I can shoot him, if you like, Bones," Both offered, hand on his gun. "No one calls my daughter a vegetable."
Wendell faded back, muttering an apology, and Hodgins laughed. "Just like the old days, with Booth threatening to shoot someone!" Angela laughed and Booth gave a reluctant smile, taking his hand away from his gun. "Hey, why don't you dress Chris as a member of the Coleoptera family?" Hodgins continued.
"The what?" "Jack!" "Really, Dr Hodgins?"
"No!" Brennan said firmly, her voice overriding everyone else's. "No beetles, Dr Hodgins."
"No bugs," Booth agreed.
Cam arched an eyebrow and smiled smugly at Brennan. "Pumpkins don't seem so bad now, do they?"
Not wishing to concede her point, Brennan decided to ignore Cam instead. As luck would have it, Angela was struck with sudden inspiration, and began thinking aloud. "What about a ladybug? They're cute, not disgusting like one of Jack's beetles."
"Yeah, well they're still—" Hodgins' voice was cut off by his wife clapping her hand over his mouth.
"That doesn't sound too bad," Booth said slowly, but Brennan was still frowning. "I don't know, Angela. While I admit that a living creature is better than inanimate vegetables, I'm not sure I care for that idea either."
"Yeah, well it's the best idea I've heard all day. Whaddya say, Bones?"
Brennan took one look at Booth's sad, pleading eyes, and the last of her resistance crumbled. "I, I guess it would be acceptable – though it is by no means my preferred choice for her."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, Bones, but they don't make Wonder Woman costumes in less than toddler sizes and that gala thing is tomorrow! So let's just let Angela work her magic and we can get back to busting bad guys."
A slightly pole axed look crossed Angela's face at the suggestion that she was going to be crafting Christine's costume. "Let me...what magic?"
"Right, well, as Booth just reminded us, we're still working on a case, people," Cam declared. "So as fascinating as this has been, it's time to get back to work, everyone!"
Booth and baby Christine followed Brennan into her office, where the partners planned to dissect the surveillance tapes sent over from the FBI's field office. Leaving behind a baffled Hodgins, bemused Angela, and chuckling Wendell.
"What the heck is going on, Angie?" Hodgins asked, "I thought you were going to be making Michael's costume this year, did you agree to do Christine's too and forget to tell me?"
"No, no Jack, this was news to me too. I'll just have to tell Brennan I don't have time," Angela let out a tired sigh, "I just hope she's not too upset when I do."
Hodgins' eyes lit up suddenly, and he reached for Angela's hands. "Forget it, baby. As busy as those two are if you don't do it for them the poor kid'll end up as something worse than a pumpkin. You do Christine's and I'll handle Michael's, okay?"
Despite her husband's suddenly, and suspiciously, supportive offer, Angela had to agree that Booth and Brennan were having an even worse go of their daughter's first Halloween than they'd had with Michael. She reluctantly nodded in agreement, and slowly turned back toward her office.
Before either Hodgins or Angela could get too far, however, Wendell piped up, "By the way, Hodgins, what was Michael dressed as last year?"
Angela and Hodgins exchanged furtive glances before scurrying down the stairs towards their respective offices, heroically pretending they hadn't heard the question.
∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙
They were both tired, foot sore, and in need of a long bath or a stiff drink—possibly both, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that Booth and Brennan had once again solved the case and gotten their man. True, in this case their man had actually been a married couple, and they'd confirmed their guilt by running before Booth could even finish pulling out his badge, but none of that mattered. In spite of the chase that followed, or the fact that they're lawyer was screaming police brutality, Booth practically skipped into the lab. Feeding off his childlike energy, Brennan found herself smiling and enjoying the view of her partner as he raced to Angela's office in search of their daughter. The sound of his horrified voice, however, was not what she expected—nor was the sound of Christine in distress.
"Angela! What did you do?" his voice boomed.
"Don't you just love it? I think she's adorable!" the artist gushed, apparently oblivious to their distress.
Brennan, who'd been lagging behind her partner, closed the distance separating them in a heartbeat. Her eyes raked the room, stopping only when they fell upon a mass of wriggling, red, black, and polka-dotted cloth.
Lying on the couch, propped up by several cushions, was a very unhappy, squirming, kicking, red-faced baby – her baby. Angela had dressed Christine in a one-piece, bunting style, ladybug costume. Her pudgy baby legs were entirely swaddled in fuzzy black fabric while her upper half was clad in red with black dots, denoting not only the ladybug's carapace but her wings as well. The entire ensemble was topped off with a black hood that sported two rather unwieldy red antennae.
The costume appeared to be a one piece affair, and while the part that formed the wings allowed Christine some degree of freedom, it was clearly not enough. A fact that was evident by the red cheeks of her daughter, a shade of red that was disturbingly similar to the costume she had on.
Acting more on instinct than anything else, Brennan moved immediately to rescue her daughter.
"You have a very odd notion of adorable, Angela," she said sharply. She picked Christine up and tsk'd in annoyance when she couldn't sit her daughter on her hip as usual. "There, there, sweetheart, Mama'll get you out of it."
Brennan ran her hands up and down her daughter's back, searching in vain for the zipper, or buttons, or Velcro that held her captive within the costume. However with a kicking, screaming, struggling baby in her arms, it was proving to be a daunting task.
Brennan was becoming more distraught as her daughter continued to cry, completely ignoring her mother's assurances. Finally, frustration won out.
"Booth, help!" She half pleaded, half shouted at her partner.
"Wait, just…wait one minute!" Angela shouted as she moved around her desk and toward the struggling child in Brennan's arms. "I'll get her out of it."
But it was too late, Booth was already there, turning Christine in her mother's arms so she faced him.
"Hey there, is that Daddy's widdle Princess? Huh? Yes it is! Yes it is! Now what's all this crying about, huh? Princesses don't cry, do they? No, no they don't!"
Brennan was about to utter a sharp comment scolding Booth for the absurd baby talk and his infantile behavior toward their daughter, when the little traitor laughed. Booth's hands danced over his daughter's costumed body, tickling, poking and prodding, and all the while he continued a steady stream of baby talk with the occasional odd face thrown in for good measure. Her daughter, who had been a screaming, fussing, wriggling, struggling, kicking mass of red faced fabric-swaddled discontent not 30 seconds ago, was now cooing in delight. Brennan muttered her frustration under her breath.
"Now then, let's get Daddy's widdle Princes out of this potato sack, and then, when we get home, we'll wash out Mommy's mouth for using bad words, huh? Isn't that right, Chrissy? Mommy shouldn't swear, isn't that right?"
"The zipper's on the side, Booth," Angela offered indifferently. "You just have to pull the Velcro apart at the top to—"
A loud, ripping sound filled the small office as Booth separated the costume at the bottom, freeing his daughter's legs.
"Man, Angela, that Velcro was really strong stuff."
"The Velcro was on the other side, Booth. That was fabric."
"Fabric, huh?" Booth beamed a self satisfied smile at the artist, "Guess I don't know my own strength."
Angela shot him a withering look, "Hey Booth, if you think Brennan's words were bad? Stick around."
∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙ ∙ v ∙
Halloween night at the Jeffersonian daycare brought out an amazing variety of costumes, both juvenile and parental. The room was decorated in festoons of orange and black crepe paper, and the caretakers were dressed in a variety of costumes. Raggedy Ann and Andy greeted the parents and children, while the head of the center was wearing a black leotard with a skeleton painted on. The sight before her put a frown on Brennan's face. Booth spotted her furrowed brow and bumped their shoulders together.
"Relax, Bones, she'll only be here for a few hours."
"It's not that; I'm just not at all sure that it's safe, Booth. What if one of the children gets a hold of the crepe paper?"
"It's too high for them, Bones. Don't worry; Chris will perfectly safe."
"Yes, well that woman's skeleton costume is physiologically inaccurate," Brennan frowned. "I'm beginning to wonder if her Curriculum Vitae is entirely factual."
Booth smiled indulgently at his partner, "C'mon Bones, you've checked her out already, and it's just a costume, right?" His grin verged on a leer as he looked her over again. "And speaking of costumes, have I mentioned exactly how hot you look in yours?"
"Are you sure?" She tugged nervously at the bustier of her Wonder Woman outfit. "It feels a little too tight since Christine was born. I should have found something else."
"No, I love it—and you. There's Hodgins and Angela over there, by the way."
The other couple wended their way through. "Booth! Dr B!" Hodgins hailed them
"Cool Nick and Nora costumes, guys. I bought the DVDs for Bones a little while ago."
"We know," Angela said, sliding her free arm through Hodgins'. "Where do you think we got the idea? She and I watched them last month. But I don't quite recognize you, Booth?"
Booth tugged a red scarf over his nose and mouth. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" he intoned. "The Shadow knows!" He added an evil laugh that made Christine laugh in her mother's arms. She made a grab for the scarf and he leaned in to let her pull at it. "Peek-a-boo!"
"Dude, you fight crime every day—and dress up for it at night, too? Even Batman took a night off." Hodgins looked down at Christine, contentedly sucking on part of her costume. "OK, I'll bite—what is she supposed to be?"
Brennan smiled. "Why, a crime-fighting anthropologist, of course," she replied, straightening her daughter's miniature labcoat.
"Her mother, in other words," Booth added. He blinked as he saw Michael's nearly iridescent green costume. "And what is Michael supposed to be? Disco Grinch?"
"He's a Chiloloba acuta, of course."
"A beetle," Angela added with an aggrieved sigh. "Flower chafer, I think. Next year, honey, we're dressing Michael the way I want."
"Right, as long as it's not another pumpkin costume," Hodgins shuddered. "I don't think I can handle the stress."
"Pumpkin? You mean you put that poor kid in a pumpkin costume?!" Booth tried vainly to control his laughter.
"Well, we weren't quite as creative as you two," came Angela's acid tongued reply.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Brennan puzzled. "How could a child's pumpkin costume be stressful?"
All eyes turned toward Hodgins, whose reddening cheeks were only accentuated by the cut of his 1930's suit and slicked back hair.
"Remember me saying it's a popular costume for little ones?" He asked, and the partners nodded. "Well, you know the fun stuff they've got here for the kids, it's really only for the bigger ones, five and up..."
"Oh, for God's sake, just tell them, Jack."
"You got the wrong kid!" Booth blurted. "Holy crap, Hodgins! How in the hell did you let that happen?"
"It was dark, okay? They put all of the little kids in that back room and turn down the lights so they'll sleep," Hodgins complained. "I went back there to get him and..."
"There was more than one child dressed as a pumpkin?" Brennan offered.
"It was like a pumpkin patch back there," Hodgins confessed. "I mean, they were everywhere!"
The sound of choked back laughter made Hodgins shoot an accusatory look at Booth.
"I-I'm sorry! P-please con-cont-" Booth tried to complete the word, but only soundless laughter came out.
"Continue. Go on, Jack," Brennan encouraged him almost too earnestly, shooting a warning look at Booth. "There's no shame in recounting your story. After all, you're among friends."
"A-anyway, I went to where I thought I'd left Michael and, well, I thought I had the right kid but you can't see anything in that room, so I picked him up as carefully as I could and, you remember how cold it was last Halloween?" They nodded in sync. "Yeah, well, um, I tucked his little blanket around his head to keep the cold air off him and, um, we headed home."
"Go on, Jack," Angela prodded him with an elbow. "Tell them the rest."
Hodgins shoulders slumped in defeat, "Yeah, so, um, I got him out to the car and, um, I was trying to get him in the car seat when Angela..."
"When I found out he'd left my son in here and brought out the wrong baby!"
"I see, you could tell it wasn't Michael because of the biological bond a mother shares with her offspring," Brennan nodded in agreement with herself. "That makes sense."
"Yeah, well that and the fact that the baby was black."
A/N: There's a review button there, please feel free to use it. Thanks!