A/N: Of course we didn't forget. Weirdos:)

We understand that you have prob. been saddened by the lack of NBI goodness for the past month, so we decided to exteeeeend this one a bit. There will be another chap. And maybe...if you ask REALLY nicely...some smut:)

Loves!

--

Dr. Temperance Brennan had never gone grocery shopping with a 7-year-old before, so she had not entirely known what to expect. Now, pushing her cart down Aisle 3 with Parker Booth skipping several yards ahead of her, she was beginning to think that perhaps having a child along for the ride was not the arrangement most conducive to meeting her goals for this trip.

"What's that?" she questioned as the little boy raced back and slam-dunked a box into the cart.

"Fruit roll-ups," he informed her. "Strawberry." He grinned at her one last time before racing off again. "You told me to pick a fruit!"

"Don't go too far, Park," she called after him, frowning slightly at the contents of her cart. She had told Parker to pick from the store whatever he thought his Dad would like. Apparently, his Dad didn't like many things that didn't have some sort of cream filling or candy-shell coating. This would be an interesting Father's Day.

Feeling a vibration in her tote bag, she paused and dropped it in the child-seat of the cart, fishing for the phone. "Hey, Ange."

"Hey Sweetie. Gotta question for you. How do you feel about Queen Ann versus Mandarin necklines? I want something a little special."

"I would love to help you out. If I had one clue what you were talking about. Parker, I'm pretty sure we don't need another box of Twinkies, okay? Pick something else."

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. "Bren, are you or are you not getting married sometime this year to Special Agent Love Machine?"

She sighed. "I'd prefer if you didn't refer to Booth as Special Agent Love Machine. It's just...weird, now that I'm engaged to be married to him. And am shopping with his kid."

Angela laughed on the other end of the phone. "But you always LIKED when I objectified him before! So you really don't know what I'm talking about, with the necklines?"

"I really don't."

"I hate to say it, babe, but you've gotta figure all this wedding stuff out sooner or later. I know it's not something you had been planning on, but it's coming whether you are ready or not. And besides, I need someone to dress shop with."

Brennan smirked. "So the truth comes out. She just wants a shopping partner."

"I'd drag you shopping whether you were getting married or not."

She began to smile at her friend's cheekiness, then realized that she couldn't get a visual on Parker anymore. "I'll call you back later, Ange. I have to go." Flipping shut her phone and pushing the cart briskly at the same time, she frantically looked about. "Parker? Parker!"

Turning the corner she looked right and left, still unable to see the little boy. Jesus. Just when she was starting to feel better about this step-mother thing, she goes and loses the kid. He had probably climbed into the freezer section and was slowly becoming hypothermic while she was busy talking about love machines and wedding dress necklines.

"BOO!" A tiny pair of arms wrapped around her hips, and she nearly jumped into the ceiling.

"Parker. Don't go where I can't see you again, okay? I was worried."

"I was right behind you, Bones," he giggled. "Here." He tossed a pack of chocolate bars into the cart. "Daddy loves these."

She had a sneaking suspicion that Parker loved them more. "Alright, kiddo. Think that's about enough to give your Dad the Father's Day of his dreams. Let's go check out."

As they waited in line at the checkout, her doing her best to keep her active future stepson from reeling into the impulse racks on either side of them, one of the magazines caught her eye. Modern Bride. That sounded more like it...she certainly would rather be a modern bride than one of the ones obsessing about china patterns. After a second's hesitation, she swiped the magazine and added it to the pile of over-processed junk in the cart.

Parker noticed and giggled. "Bones and Daddy, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes..."

"Keep going and I'm going to add a vegetable to this cart," she threatened.

His mouth snapped shut.

She smiled. Maybe she was better at this step-parenting thing than she thought.

--

Seeley Booth heard the slamming of the car door and the scampering of his son's small feet before he saw the boy or the beautiful forensic anthropologist right behind him. Oh, good, they had made it home from the supermarket in one piece. He hadn't been concerned, but Bones still seemed to see something a little trepidatious about one-on-one time with the terribly frightening Parker Booth. "Hey you two, how was the store?" Bones handed him two of the bags she carried and fell in behind him with the other two.

"It was good," she replied, setting the bags on the counter, trying not to trip over the little boy running circles around the island. "But I may have made the mistake of telling Parker to get whatever he thought you'd like," she rolled her eyes.

Booth dug into the first grocery bag and pulled out a box of strawberry fruit roll-ups and a large bag of peanut butter cups. Not what he was expecting, but delicious nonetheless. "So far he's right," he teased, leaning across the counter to give her a kiss, Parker flying solidly into his legs. He scooped the little boy up and set him on the counter, ruffling his blonde curls. "Good job, pal." He looked up to meet Bones's eyes and winked. He dug into the other bag and pulled out a magazine. How thoughtful. Before looking at the cover he started speaking. "Did you get me the new Men's Health, kiddo?"

"Try again," Bones said dryly. He looked down at the cover and saw a beautiful blonde woman holding a bouquet of orchids looking back up at him, the words "Modern Bride" stretched out behind her in bright pink.

"What made you think I'd like this?" he teased Parker, lunging for his ribs in a tickle fight. The little boy giggled infectiously and gasped for air when he'd had too much of his daddy's teasing.

"Bones got it!" he gasped.

"Booooooooooones got it? Who would want to marry herrrrrrrr?" Seeley teased. "Girls are sooooo disgusting, right Parks?"

Parker giggled some more. "Right, Dad."

Bones took the opportunity to jump in to their female-bashing. "Hey! YOU TWO happen to love me. And you better start acting like it if you want to see another pan of mac and cheese ever again," she taunted.

Booth and Parker looked at each other with matching comically horrified expressions. "Nooooooo," Parker pled, crawling across the counter to lunge into her arms. "We were just teasing!" he swore. She caught him easily and swung him to the floor, giving him a playful smack to his backside. He squeaked and dodged away from her.

"Would you please set the table, bud?" she asked, pulling open the fridge door to start putting away the loot from their junk food extravaganza.

"Sure," he answered amiably, moving toward the dishwasher to dig clean plates and silverware out.

Booth waited until he was out of earshot before speaking in low tones. "Modern Bride, huh?" he teased. He stepped around the counter to begin handing her things to put in the fridge, a little distracted by her soft curves as she crouched before him. If she turned around she'd be right in line to... Father's Day, Seeley. Your child is here. Father. Not fellatio. Or another really nice word that starts with f. Fa.Ther.

Bones shrugged, blissfully unaware of his internal battle. "I figured it would be more practical than most of the other ones. I'd rather be a modern bride than a traditional bride."

"Mhm," he agreed, continuing to dig through grocery sacks. "And did you see one called 'Traditional Bride'?"

She stopped her refrigerator arrangement and looked over her shoulder at him. "Noooo, I guess I just... what are you saying?" she regarded him suspiciously.

"Nothing, honey, I just think you're going to be a little surprised how traditional Modern Bride tends to be."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Booth. I'll look through it in a little bit." She put a can of whipped cream in the door and a flat of strawberries on the top shelf of the fridge and stood, shutting the door.

"How come you didn't put those in the drawer?" Booth questioned, sliding his arms around her waist and trapping her between his body and the butcher-block counter top. She reached up and snaked her arms around his neck and whispered delicately in his ear.

"Because. Those were my pick. And I have plans for them and the whipped cream later."

Booth shivered at her words and lowered his head for a kiss. "I do love strawberry shortcake."

She tipped her head back, her sable ponytail falling down her back as she gave him a naughty grin. "You be the cake."

--

She and Booth taught each other new things every day. Brennan knew that he learned as much from her as she did from him...and not just about the grooming rituals of Amazonian tribes, or the best techniques to identify microscopic nicks on bone. However, when it came to this holiday business, it had occurred to her that more than often, it was him who made an effort to show her how special they could be. When a glance at her calendar showed her that Father's Day was fast approaching, she saw it as an opportunity for her do something for him. And Temperance Brennan did everything well, so she wanted to make sure her first orchestration of a holiday experience was no exception.

Unfortunately, they never taught her how to do the following in graduate school: 1. Shop with a 7-year-old. 2. Cook on a barbeque grill. 3. Host a barbeque party. But her lack of experience be damned, she was going to do this. Because every time she saw them, Booth's fathering skills impressed her more, and he deserved to have something done for him on this day. Unbeknownst to Parker, she had returned to the grocery store later in the day to purchase some types of meat and vegetable products (something OTHER than Slim Jims and potato chips), so she felt at least prepared with the necessities. Bad news was, she was far out of practice at cooking any type of meat. And had even less practice with lighting charcoal on fire. So the next day's adventure would be a new one for her.

This Saturday evening, she was at her own apartment taking a rare day for herself. She had written most of the morning and afternoon, and by early evening had decided maybe some preparation for this impromptu picnic was in order. So she alternated between slicing fruit for the fruit salad, and perusing the pages of her new magazine, which sat open on her kitchen counter.

And becoming increasingly more horrified.

Her phone rang, and after wiping off her fruit-juiced hands on a dishtowel, she answered.

"Are you sure you don't want to come over tonight?" Booth's wheedling voice asked her.

"Thought you wanted some alone-time with Parker tonight," she responded, smiling a grin that turned to a frown as she flipped through another page of the magazine.

"We went to the Capitals game this morning. Came back and practiced soccer in the backyard. We went to the library to pick up books for his report, and I have spent the rest of the day watching TV with him and watching him consume all the peanut butter cups that were supposedly meant for me. I think the kid is all Daddy'd out. He's passed out on the couch."

She smirked. "So what, now you want me there to be your entertainment?"

"I entertain back," he promised. "C'mon, Bones. You know I don't like sleeping without you."

"Well, babe, you're going to have to go solo tonight," she said distractedly. "I have some things to do here…what in the hell would I need 3 sets of china for?"

She heard mirth in his voice. "You're reading that magazine, aren't you?"

"I'm doing a couple things at once."

"I see."

"Holy shit. This dress must weigh 500 pounds."

Now, he was chuckling. "You're a strong woman. You could carry it around."

"I also am not a self-hating masochist," she murmured, eyeing the stilettos the bride wore with said 500 pound dress, reminding her of her Halloween costume. She had hardly been able to walk on them when she was barely dressed, let alone carting around a gown the size of Texas. "Booth, are you sure you don't want to just run down to the courthouse? It would be so easy…and quick," she said, longingly, seeing the timeline listed on page 157 which suggested she book her photographer at least a year and a half in advance, just to be safe.

"You know I'll do this however you want it, baby. But you also know how much it would mean to our family and friends to be there, too."

She sighed.

"Lucky for you, they don't give a damn how heavy your dress is or how many sets of china you have."

This was true. She could be grateful for that. "Booth?"

"Yes?"

"Can I throw this thing away?"

"Good riddance to it."

She smiled. She loved him so damn much. "You and Parker are going to meet me in the park at 11 tomorrow still, right?" She had been pretty impressed that Parker had managed to keep her little secret for this long, but wasn't completely certain that he wouldn't bust at any minute, spilling the fact that their "little picnic" was going to be a party in Booth's honor, complete with family and friends.

"A picnic with my two favorite people? Wouldn't miss it."

"Great. I'll see you then, 'kay?"

"I don't know about you. But I'll be seeing you in my dreams long before tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "I love you, weirdo."

After hanging up, she surveyed her equipment. A barbeque for 10…she wasn't sure how much charcoal it took to cook this much meat, so she bought 5 large bags of it. She had also bought 3 containers of lighter fluid to get the fire burning strong and high. None of their friends were going to be served raw meat, she'd make sure of it.

Feeling more under control now, she returned to her fruit, which she had much more experience with than the bloody packages that were currently thawing in her fridge. But she was confident that she could pull this off. How hard could it be to throw a little party?

--

"Dad! Let's GO!" With Parker tugging at his hand, Booth struggled to juggle a basketball and a soccer ball, the only things Bones had asked him to bring to their little family gathering, stating she had everything else 'totally under control.' He wondered why she'd sounded so concerned when she'd said it… oh well. He was excited to be spending Father's Day with the kid who he'd been lucky to call his son for seven years, and the woman he was excited to call his wife sometime before the end of the year.

"Okay, bud, let's hit the road." The Booth boys headed out to Seeley's SUV and Parker quickly scrambled into the back and buckled himself in. Booth glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure Parker was secured and then started driving the short distance to the park they frequented.

"Dad, put in 'Uptown Girl!' Bones had recently introduced Parker to the genius of Billy Joel and the kid had fallen in love with the piano man's hit about a boy from the wrong side of the tracks falling in love with a classy sophisticate. Seeley shuffled the discs in the changer and fast forwarded until the song blared from the speakers. He watched his little man bob his head to the tune until it got to the part he knew all the words to. His little voice chimed from the back seat, "and when she waaakes up and maaaaaaaakes up her mi-yi-yind, she'll see that I'm not so tough, just because, I'm in love with an uptown girl," Seeley had to grin at the memory of the previous Friday night, Parker on a minor sugar high bouncing/dancing around the living room with Bones, both of them belting out the words to the tune, claiming it as "their" song. He smiled, listening to Parker sing for the remaining few blocks until they got to the park.

He located an open spot next to the new family-friendly Lexus hybrid SUV they'd found for Brennan at the beginning of the summer. Booth had felt his throat closing up when the sales guy had quoted them the price, but her book advance had easily paid the tab. He looked around at the other cars parked nearby, something vaguely familiar about a few of them, but he disregarded the thought, figuring they were just cars he'd seen before on the Beltway. He got out of the Tahoe and took Parker's hand, both of them carrying a ball under their arm. As he got closer to the picnic area, Booth noticed a small crowd gathered around one of the barbeque pits and felt his son tugging more insistently on his hand. "What's going on, Park?"

"I can't telllllllll you, it's a surpriiiiiiise," Parker looked like he was about to burst. Right before he did, the small crowd erupted.

"SURPRISE!" Booth grinned at the noisy greeting from what appeared to be just under a dozen of his closest friends. Angela and Jack were there, Zack, Cam, Sam and Julia Cullen, and Rebecca and Brent.

"What's all this?" he asked, dropping a kiss on Bones's cheek. She shrugged slightly and smiled.

"Happy Father's Day."

The woman never ceased to amaze him. She'd planned an entire Father's Day barbeque right under his nose and managed to keep his seven-year-old quiet about it? That damn kid couldn't keep his trap shut for anything!

"Are you s'prised, Daddy?" said seven-year-old piped up from his position next to his co-conspirator, her arm slung gently – motherly, Booth couldn't help but notice – around his thin shoulders.

"Very surprised! I can't believe you kept that secret, Parks!"

"I didn't tell Bones 'bout Valentine's Day, so she said I couldn't tell you 'bout this!"

Booth smiled and ruffled the kid's hair. "Good job, pal." He directed his next question to Bones. "Are we having barbequed fruit rollups and flame-broiled oreos?"

"Better!" she said brightly. "Veggie burgers and tofurkey dogs!"

Booth looked at her with what he hoped to convey as complete and total horror. Apparently it worked.

"Only kidding," she grinned. "You want a hot dog or hamburger?" she asked.

"One of each," Booth requested, leaning in to kiss her again. "You, Temperance Brennan, are about the most wonderful woman I think I've ever met," he whispered.

"Oooh. That's gonna get you an extra hot dog, mister," she smiled and kissed him quickly, giving him a playful shove in the direction of the playground equipment Parker was already dragging him toward. "Now go play."

Booth hoisted the basketball he carried onto the tips of his fingers and shouted at the group over his shoulder, "whoever wants to take me and my kid on in a game of HORSE, bring it on!"

--

Everything was going perfectly so far. All of her invited guests had gotten to the park with Booth none the wiser, and Booth had seemed genuinely touched and surprised by her gesture, which made every bit of her planning and scheming worth the time she had put into it. Angela lingered by her side as she spread out the lot of raw meat that she was about to take on, frowning at it with distaste.

"I'm really proud of you, Sweetie," Angela told her, squeezing her arm gently.

Brennan looked up at her in surprise. "I know. This took more work than I had anticipated."

"Not just the work you put into it. The fact that you thought to do it for Booth. That's love, right there, baby."

A blush crept into her face. She knew her friends had seen her transformation this year as a good thing. A much-needed thing. Still, it sometimes embarrassed her when her soft spot was showing. "I do love him," she admitted. "And…he's so good with Parker. You should just watch them sometime, Ange. Sometimes, I'm almost jealous of him. How naturally it comes."

Her friend's eyes twinkled. "Some people just got the gift. And your man? He's gifted." She looked across the park to watch her own fiancé laughing and lifting Parker to make an easy basket, his teammates shouting at him in mock horror. "We should all be so lucky." Glancing back at Brennan, who had picked up a bag of charcoal from the grass and was lugging it toward the grill, she frowned. "You need some help?"

"No help," Brennan insisted. "I want to do this on my own."

"You sure? I've got some skills, you know. From a lot of tailgating experience."

"I've got it under control, Angela," she insisted, dumping the bag onto the grill until the briquettes piled almost all the way up to the rack. "Please. Go have fun with everybody. I want to show that I can do this."

The artist's eyes had widened as she shook the bag onto the grill. "Wow. You planning on cooking all night and into tomorrow?"

Exasperated, she sighed. "Please."

"Okay." Angela threw up her hands. "Let me know if you need anything. Like a call to the fire department."

"Right," she said distractedly, waving her friend off.

So. She wanted to make sure the briquettes were burning hot and evenly. That's where the lighter fluid came in. Squirting a liberal coating across the black surface, she ensured that each brick would heat to its maximum potential fairly quickly, so that she did not have to wait very long until the food was ready to cook. It was already making her slightly nauseous to see the raw hamburger patties lined across the table. It really had been a long time since she had looked at, handled, or smelled uncooked red meat. Just putting her hands in it last night to form the patties made her shudder a little bit.

Alright. Striking a match, she tossed it over the rack and into the waiting charcoal. Instantly and with a 'whoosh,' orange flames shot up out of the grill as high as her head. Biting back a yelp as the heat coming off smacked her in the face, she hopped backwards. Faintly, she could hear Parker's voice drifting from the playground. 'Daddy. Look at that! Are we gonna roast marshmallows?' The little brat. There were a few vaguely concerned voices, and Angela's mumbling in response, apparently warning them from going over to try to help.

She frowned in irritation. Did they want their food cooked, or not? Waiting until the flames died down until they were at least chest-height, she poked at the patties she had pulled out, glad for the large Portobello mushroom that she had brought to grill and eat herself. Lifting one piece of meat with a set of tongs, she didn't notice the pink liquid drain from the hunk of burger and down the metal handle until it reached her fingers.

"Ew! Ew, ew, ew." She dealt with dead things every day. But this…this remnant of cow that her friends and colleagues were going to put in their mouths…was somehow a thousand times more nauseating than anything in her lab. Dropping the patty back to the foil she had spread, she frantically reached for the paper towels and the large container of anti-bacterial liquid, squeezing a glob on her hands and rubbing for a good few minutes. Okay. Decontaminated.

Again reaching for the tongs, this time making very sure to hold them straight out so there would be no drippage, she carefully lifted the patty and carried it over the grill, dropping it on the rack and immediately hearing the sizzle. Good. One down. Going back, she did the same with the second, and the third. By the time she put on the fourth, she could hear the spitting sound from where the grease was dripping onto the briquettes, and the resulting flares between the grates. She needed to hurry; the first ones she put on would need to be flipped by the time she put on the last, at this rate. Turning back to the picnic table to gather the rest, her ears pricked as she heard another "whooshing" sound. That couldn't be good.

When she turned, she saw her patties not just cooking, but flaming. The height of the fire and the greasiness of the burgers had apparently not made a good combination. Because she had placed them so close together, the first torched burger quickly spread its heat to the next, and the next, and now every single one of her carefully-formed patties had turned into spitting, flaming blowtorches.

Trying not to panic, she looked left and right, trying to find something to smother the flames, and there was nothing. Grabbing the turner, she began smacking at the increasingly-blackened burgers, succeeding only in sending showers of sparks up and floating back across the grill. The heat was intense. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Angela!" she screamed, standing as close to the grill as it was safe to get, beating at the flames with her utensils.

The seconds it took her friend to get to her side felt like hours, but eventually she felt a hand tug at her arm, pulling her away. "Sweetie. Stand back."

Gratefully, she did as she was told. She watched dumbly as Ange ripped off two long pieces of tinfoil, spread one on the dirt beside the grill, and with the turner she had snatched from Brennan's hands, expertly flipped the flaming patties onto them and covered them with the other piece, effectively smothering the blaze. The acrid smell of burnt meat filled the air. Again tearing off the foil pieces, her friend used the tongs to lay them out across the grates of the grill, restricting the airflow to the coals and diminishing the flames. Calmly, she maneuvered her way to the remaining uncooked patties, picked them up carefully with the tongs, and laid them across the foil. Through this process, she had drawn a small, appreciative crowd of onlookers.

"Okay. Who wants a burger?" she asked, counting. "How do you want that done? Medium-rare for you, Julia? Well-done, Brent? Gotcha. Two medium-rares, three mediums, four wells." All the meat now on the grill, she wiped off her hands on a paper towel and began gathering the seasonings that Brennan had laid out.

"Thanks, Ange," she told her friend guiltily, sidling up to her and toeing away the hockey pucks that were cooling on the ground. "I'm sorry. I really thought I could…I really wanted to do this."

The artist smiled at her. "Babe, you did all the organizing. You put everything together, and you put every ounce of love you had into it. It's okay to relax a little now. It's okay to ask for help. I'm happy to do this."

Smiling gratefully, she squeezed her friend's hand, before wandering over to a mirthful-looking Booth.

"Shut up," she told him petulantly.

"I didn't say anything!"

"It's good you didn't. Or I'd make you eat one of those." She pointed to the now-smoking pieces of blackened meat on the ground.

Grinning, he reached for her, pulling her into a hug.

"Sorry. I don't know what made me think I'd be good at this," she murmured, burying her flushed face into his shoulder.

"You know what? The fact that you aren't? Sort of makes me love you more."

"That doesn't make any sense," she insisted. But even as she said it, warmth crept up inside of her. The feeling of being loved not in spite of her imperfections, but because of them.

"I'm still going to make this the best Father's Day you have ever had. Someway," she promised.

He cupped her face and kissed her warmly. "You already have."