Christine makes another appearance because I needed some sweet fluff. (Just found out my Christmas money/savings account will be buying my 6-month old car a new bumper … I bottomed out in a parking lot, and even though only one corner is barely damaged, that warrants an entirely new and expensive bumper. But hey, I'm very thankful that I miraculously have the money to pay for this right now. Very grateful!) Happy New Year!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

"I missed you today."

"You did?" Booth looked up from the stirring the spaghetti sauce, somewhat surprised at Brennan's unexpected confession. "But everything went OK, right?"

"Yes, but I still missed you." Her lips quirked up into a smile. "That's OK, right?"

"Of course." He returned the smile, reaching across her to turn off the stovetop. "Trust me, I would have much rather been with you all day."

"You're much better than Sweets at teaching."

"So you missed me for my brain."

She nodded.

"Oh. That's the only reason you missed me?"

"No, of course not." She set the water glasses down on the table, tousling Christine's hair. "You ready for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Can you move your coloring off the table so it doesn't get food on it?"

"Sure." Christine slid down from her chair and grabbed her papers and crayons to carry them to the coffee table.

"Go ahead and sit, Bones. I'll bring the rest of the food over." Booth balanced the bread and salad, and then grabbed the dressing with his free hand.

Brennan had already begun to serve up the plates, working on Christine's plate first. "Want me to cut it up for you?"

The little girl peered over the table, nodded, and gave an eager grin as she climbed into her seat. "Sss-getti! No … wait." Clearly in deep concentration, she frowned for a moment, and then tried the word again. "Spaghetti!"

"Good job." Brennan smiled at Christine's triumphant tone, and simultaneously noticed Booth's slightly disappointed look. "What's wrong?"

"I just like the way she normally says it."

"It's incorrect."

"But it's adorable." He placed pieces of bread on each of their plates.

Brennan laughed as she cut up Christine's portion. "Christine, I think Daddy's sad that you're learning how to correctly pronounce all your words."

"You're growing up too fast."

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry, Daddy." She gave a sudden yawn as she reached for the bread on her plate.

"Tired, baby girl?"

Her mouth full of bread, Christine simply nodded.

"Did you play hard today at school?" Booth finished serving the trio their salads and began to twirl the spaghetti noodles on his plate.

"We ran lots."

"Oh." Both Booth and Brennan exchanged a relieved glance, thankful for a rare chance that Christine might actually fall asleep early."Did you run fast?"

Her mouth was full again, so she nodded at Booth, then waited until she had mostly finished chewing. "I beat all the girls 'cept Molly."

"Molly's much taller than you," Brennan remarked. "Her legs are longer."

Christine gave her mother a puzzled look. "So?"

"If her legs are longer than yours, it makes it easier for her to run." Brennan caught herself. "Well, that's not always true. It just means her legs go longer than yours."

"Like Daddy and you?"

"Yeah, exactly like us. Our legs are longer than yours."

"So you can run faster than me," Christine mused.

"I can. Not sure about Mommy." Booth grinned impishly across the table at Brennan.

"You let me deliver this baby, then give me four months. We'll see who's running faster," she challenged playfully.

"Did you beat the boys?"

Her mouth full again, Christine gave her father a happy smile. "Mmmhmm!"

"Really?"

She wiped her mouth. "Yep. Not all of them. But a lot."

"Atta girl!" He held up his hand for a high five, which she immediately returned. "We gotta get you in soccer soon. You want to try soccer?"

She shrugged nonchalantly as she took another bite of spaghetti.

"What if Daddy coached your team?" Brennan eyed Booth with a smile. "You think you'd like that?"

Christine looked over at Brennan. "Can Lexi play?"

"Well, we could ask her parents."

Viewing this an acceptable solution, Christine nodded. "OK."

"Did you ever coach Parker?" Brennan finished with the butter dish and passed it to Booth.

"Not at her age." Booth nodded toward Christine. "Always wanted to, just couldn't do it with Becca or work or both. I assistant coached with baseball one season, but the bureau gave me a miserable schedule that spring. I think I made it to almost all the games and maybe half of the practices."

"Speaking of Parker, do we have him this weekend?"

"Part of it. Bec wouldn't budge on tomorrow."

She sighed. "I guess we take what we can get. At least we'll get him Saturday and Sunday."

"Since he won't be around tomorrow, I figured I'd take you out for date night."

"Really?"

"Yep. We haven't had one in ages. Might be the last one before the baby."

"That's true. We better do it."

"Christine … how would you like for Grandpa to come over tomorrow?"

The little girl nodded agreeably.

"Then it's settled." He leaned over and planted a kiss on Brennan's cheek. "Date night tomorrow."

Date night was sacred.

Booth had instituted this ritual several months after Christine was born, and Brennan had gladly agreed to it. One did not interrupt, cancel, or kill date night. In fact, in the history of almost three years of semi-regularly scheduled Friday date nights, only two truly horrific cases and one violent stomach flu incident had hindered date night.

Date night was a chance to dress up and catch up. It gave Booth an opportunity to show off Brennan, which he loved doing — and not-so-secretly, she loved it, too. It gave them just enough time away from their daughter, a chance to have good, uninterrupted conversation, and precious quiet time — a valued commodity that both of them knew would disappear for the foreseeable future once daughter #2 made her appearance.

However, it appeared that the universe was out to wreck date night.

It started at 2:44 a.m.

In normal "I'm-nine-months-pregnant" fashion, Brennan had fallen asleep on her side, curled around and used a large pillow to help support her. In not so normal "I'm-nine-months-pregnant" fashion, she had allowed Booth to snuggle right up behind her, his front pressing against her back, with one arm draped over her hips. She was shocked that it was comfortable, but didn't fight it. Booth relished the fact that his wife finally wasn't miserable, and, after pressing a few kisses to Brennan's shoulder, joined her in sleep.

Until 2:44 a.m.

He felt movement and sleepily realized maybe she was getting up to use the bathroom.

Nope, not enough movement.

He lay still, hoping maybe she was just adjusting her sleep position.

"Mmmm."

That was a distinct groan of discomfort, one that he had grown to know well over the last two months.

"Bones, whatcha need?"

"Mmmm." She fidgeted, trying not to let herself fully wake up.

"You OK?"

"No."

He began to sit up, and she immediately protested. "No, don't. You feel good. Don't get up."

"OK." He ran his hand over her shoulder and down her arm. "What's wrong?"

"She won't stop kicking and moving." Brennan gave a defeated sigh. "And I'm so tired."

"I know you are." He planted a soft kiss on her neck. "Can I do anything?"

"Can you make her stop?"

"I can try."

She turned over towards him. "Why won't she let me sleep?"

"She's a night owl like her mom. Maybe she doesn't need a lot of sleep to function."

"That's silly," Brennan murmured drowsily, burying her head into Booth's chest. "But if it's true, it doesn't bode well for our sleep schedules once she's born."

"Baby girl." Booth rested one hand on Brennan's stomach. "Momma's right. Go to bed. You need to sleep."

A firm kick came in response.

"She's not listening."

"Nope." Brennan sighed. "Maybe I should get up."

"And pace? Yeah, because that always settles her down."

"Sometimes it does."

"And sometimes just laying here works." Booth pressed his lips to Brennan's. "You need to rest, not walk around the house. Stay here. Even if you can't sleep, you're resting."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I'm so ready to get her out of me."

Booth couldn't hold back a laugh. "No shit."

"You can tell?"

"I could tell a month ago."

"Does that make me a bad mother?"

He placed a kiss on her forehead. "You know the answer to that. Of course it doesn't."

"Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we going to name her?"

"You really want to get into this now?"

"She's not showing any signs of settling down. Might as well make the most of it."

"Every time we talk baby names this late, we just end up with really strange ones like Demetria and Queen Alexandra ... and Jordan."

He could feel her nose wrinkle against his chest in clear disapproval. "We have never suggested those names to each other."

"But you get my point."

"What's so strange about Jordan?"

"You like that one?"

"You don't?"

"Honestly, it's a miracle Christine has a name …"

I have nothing against the names Alexandra and Jordan ... but Demetria Booth just sounds too strange. :) And the "date night is sacred" line comes from the husband of a family I babysat for — he and his wife had a monthly date night no matter what, and I loved that he made it such a priority.

Two questions for y'all (not related to the story). Hugs or high fives if you can answer!

1. Has the name of Hank's (Booth's grandfather) wife ever been mentioned? If so, what is it? (Got into this debate with someone the other day, and we couldn't figure it out.)

2. Does Booth ever say that he minored in something in college? One of y'all left me a review asking me if he had English minor, and I cannot for the life of me remember. I almost thought it was history, but that can't be right …

More to come. Thanks for reading.