11-Storm Runner

Booth picked up a sleeping Parker as they made their way to the car. Starting the engine and checking the clock, he realized how late it was. "Geez, Bones, it's already eleven. Why don't you just stay with me?" he asked as the sky grew ever darker and rain began to pour. The game had gone into overtime and the Flyers had won, which put one bright spot on the evening.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course I'm sure." She agreed and he only half-suppressed a grin as he navigated his way back to his apartment.

After carrying Parker inside and getting him to bed, Booth and Brennan went to their separate rooms. The wind was howling, the thunder was booming, and the lightning was flashing. Brennan knew all the science behind storm-associated phenomena, but she could never quite shake the scared feeling she got when storms got really bad.

Booth, on the other hand, could sleep through anything. Although he slept lightly, he still actually slept. The storm wasn't dying down, and Brennan couldn't sleep. A bolt of lightning cracked a tree branch outside, and before she knew it she leapt out of bed and made her way down the hall. She threw open Booth's door and jumped in the bed, pulling the covers over her.

"Parker?" he mumbled sleepily, but upon opening his eyes he realized it was Brennan. "Bones, you OK?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"I'm scared," she whimpered, tugging him back down by his t-shirt. Booth looked slightly confused, but when thunder rolled loudly outside and Brennan flinched, he got it.

"It's OK, Bones. It's just a storm," he said quietly as she moved right next to him. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and her hands were clenched into fists. "Here, Bones," Booth said, reflexively slipping his arms around her and she instantly relaxed. Both were more than half asleep when Booth placed a kiss on her head and she moved even closer to him. Neither of them really noticed.

Booth woke up the next morning and breathed what smelled like rainwater. What? he thought as his head shot up and he looked down. His nose had been pressed to Brennan's forehead, and a smile graced his features as he thought of spending the night with her. He smoothed some hair back from her face and she sighed, opening her eyes sleepily. "Hi," she said, her voice husky.

His breath caught in his throat. "Sleep well?" he asked. She nodded. Just then a knock sounded through the bedroom.

"Dad?"

"Oh, um, hold on, pal," Booth stammered.

"Booth," Brennan whispered, "I don't think Parker should see us like this."

"Well, it's not like we were doing anything," Booth countered.

"Yes, but he might think…"

"Bones, he's eight." Their voices were getting slightly louder with each counter argument as they started bickering.

"He's quite smart."

"Yeah, I know," Booth said agitatedly. "Look, just…go in the bathroom or something." Once it was safe Booth yelled for Parker to come in, and the boy jumped onto the bed happily.

"Dad, can we have French toast?"

"Sure, bud. Why don't you start things in the kitchen?"

"OK!" the boy exclaimed excitedly and ran towards the kitchen. Brennan emerged from the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, how Booth just wanted to grab her and pull her closer. Booth opened his mouth to speak, but Parker's call interrupted him.

"We'll talk later," he breathed, and before she could respond he was out the door.