A Midnight Snack
"I don't see why we have to do this," Brennan mumbled.
"You can't tell me you've never had a midnight snack," Booth told her. He should be used to it by now, but somehow it still manages to startle him all of the…normal things she's never done.
"My meals were always at the same time, so I was used to eating then. And then later, I got used to my meals being inconsistent. Besides, it's not midnight. It's only a quarter to eleven," Brennan said, checking her watch.
"Small details. It's late, so it's midnight."
"That makes no sense," Brennan frowned.
"Fine. We're having a 10:45 snack. You have milk, right?"
"It's in the fridge, the place it would obviously be."
Booth walked over to her kitchen and opened her fridge, half expecting for it to blow up (he always did when he's in her kitchen now, after that one time), pulls out the milk, and then pours some into two big glasses. He also pulls from his
"Oreos?" Brennan asks with an eyebrow raised.
"A midnight snack has to include something really unhealthy for you. It's like, the definition of a midnight snack. What, you think people get up in the middle of the night for carrots?"
Brennan decided it was really no point in arguing with Booth when he was like this, and that the more she went along with it the quicker he would leave, so she sat down and accepted the handful of Oreos he gave her.
She'd never admit it, but Brennan actually found it kind of good. Instead she asked, "Why did you come over here just for a midnight snack?"
"HA! You admit it's a midnight snack," Booth said, sticking out his tongue to her.
There's nothing she could say to that.
So instead, she kissed him.