Home
His headache has been growing since the school called him at one. By the time he shut the front door of his apartment and tossed his keys on the counter, it was a persistent throbbing against the back of his skull. He deeply regretted the hearing he'd been forced to attend. He regretted even more the fact that disobeying the judge's directive to stay wouldn't have managed to get him home any earlier.
Booth's head pounded, and all he wanted to do was get some Advil and make sure that his son was all right. At that thought he paused. Despite his rather forceful entry, the apartment was still unnaturally quiet. He caught sight of a pot on the stove, though the burner is off. Cautiously, he moved around the apartment. Two bowls of half-finished soup are on the coffee table, and as he rounded the couch, he stopped dead in his tracks.
There's a tightness in his chest—an almost tangible pain as he stared at his son. The late afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, and rested on Parker and Bones where they lay, curled together on the couch. One of her arms was wrapped securely around the boy, and both their mouths were open. Bones, though he won't ever tell her, had a little bit of drool on her sleeve. They slept the sleep of the truly exhausted, and Booth couldn't bear to wake them.
His movements were more subdued as he got a glass of water and that Advil he'd been craving, and he sat down on the floor in front of them, back resting against the edge of the couch. It wasn't long before his head lolled back, and his snores joined the gentle breathing of his son and his Bones.