Thanks to everone who reviewed the last chapter. This was meant to just be a oneshot, but what follows just wouldn't leave me alone.
Think of this as redemption for my other story, Making Babies.
Disclaimer - Not mine.
Enjoy. And Merry Christmas.
"Am I too late?" I ask, as Booth opens his door to me, the warmth spilling out.
"For what? Did we organize something?" he questions, bewildered as to my presence.
I see Parker behind him, excitedly pulling ornaments from a cardboard box as he sings along to seasonal music playing quietly from the stereo.
"The tree. You were planning to decorate it with Parker this evening. I thought maybe..."
His expression softens as my purpose for calling becomes apparent. He looks back at his son with an emotion that I cannot quite place. Something reserved for parent and child. Something I do not yet understand.
"I'm sorry, I'm intruding." I turn to leave. His hand settles on my shoulder, stopping me.
"Bones, just come in already. You're letting in the cold." He is grinning at me now, as he ushers me inside. "Parker, look who's come to help."
"Bones!"
His little boy rushes towards me elatedly and, for a moment, I consider the impact will most likely knock me to the floor.
I am wrong.
Booth places his hand on my back to steady me and when Parker loosens his hold from my waist, his father slides my coat from my shoulders. As he turns to hang it in the closet he speaks to me in a tone I interpret as mock annoyance. "Your hands are like ice. You drove right? Does your heater not work?"
"I may not have turned it up." Or perhaps the fact I stood outside for at least ten minutes debating whether to knock, might be responsible for my unnaturally cool body temperature.
"It's freezing out there, Bones. Are you trying to get hypothermia?" He pulls my hands into his own and rubs them together in an attempt to generate heat. "Go sit by the fire. I'll make us a hot drink."
"That would be... very nice," I admit. I look around, taking in the décor that is uniquely Booth, as I settle myself in a well worn, yet comfortable chair by the fireside.
"Do you think it might snow?" Parker asks, clambering up beside me. "If it did then we could build a snowman."
"I think it just might" I confirm, pulling him up onto my lap.
He considers this for a minute then asks me "Why?"
I explain to him that, if it is cold enough, water vapor in the air forms as tiny ice crystals. When I try to emphasize the importance of nucleators helping the water molecules coalesce his eyes glaze, and he fidgets on my knee. Reminding myself that he's just a little boy I consider how my father would explain in a way Parker can comprehend.
"The ice crystals," I say, "move around inside the cloud, and more tiny water particles condense onto it and freeze into more crystals. This collection of individual crystals forms a snow flake. And as it grows heavier, it falls toward the earth. If it stays cold enough the whole way down, the flake will still be frozen when it reaches the ground."
"Wow"
"And" I add, "in most parts of the world, rain generally starts out as snow but melts as it falls through the atmosphere, because it is very, very cold at cloud level, even in the summertime."
"Cool" he replies, jumping down as Booth reenters the room holding two large mugs.
"OK! Here we go. I made us hot chocolate." He handed me one of the steaming mugs. "Hey. How come you've stopped trimming the tree, Bud?"
"Bones was explaining to me why it snows."
Booth looks at me with one of his trademark smiles. "Oh! She was, was she? So could you explain to me?"
"Sure I could, Dad. But that's not getting the decorations done, is it?" Even I can recognize Parker's tone is mock sarcastic.
Booth laughs as Parker enthusiastically dives back into the box of decorations. He turns to me, holding my gaze. "So..." he smiles. "My son the meteorologist?"
"I was just.... enriching." I glance down briefly at the hot chocolate, warming my hands. "Like you asked."
He nods his head slowly "Like I asked. Thanks, Bones."
He settles himself on the floor next to me and we both sip at our drinks as Parker closely examines everything he removes from the box.
"So..." I ask, smiling nervously, looking at the freshly cut evergreen that now dominates the corner of the room. "This tree. Where do we start exactly?"
"We finish our hot chocolate, 'cause you can't rush something this important. Then...."
"We put the lights on!" Parker interrupts.
"Right! And then what, Bud?"
"All the stringy things, like tinsel, and beads." Parker pauses, his eyes filled with delight. "Then we can put all the other stuff on."
"And last of all?" Booth questions his son knowingly.
"The Angel, right at the very top."
"Sound like fun." I comment.
"Yeah, it is, Bones. It really is." We share a smile and look at one another just a little too long.
Together, we spend the next few hours trimming the tree to Parker's specification. I cannot help but consider how much this feels like family. Finally, Booth lifts Parker high, allowing him to place the angel in situ.
"Good job everyone," Booth congratulates. Then turning to me he asks "so what do you want to do now?"
"I should go. Now the tree is done. That was the reason I came."
"Really?" He raises his eyebrows. "That was the only reason?"
I find myself lost for words and welcome the distraction when Parker calls out. "Hey!" he shouts, his face pressed against the window pane. "It's snowing."
We all look out at the snow, falling thick and fast. "You can't drive in that" Booth proclaims.
"I'm a very competent driver, Booth."
"Maybe. But what about all the other idiots out there?"
I sigh audibly. I know I will not win this argument. "So what do you suggest?"
"We could dance?" He turns up the volume of the stereo. Dean Martin. It is an old song I recognize.
"Baby, it's cold outside." Booth confirms, with a wide grin.
"I know," I murmur quietly.
He pulls me into his arms and I shiver.
"Cold?" He does not wait for my response, but simply pulls me closer.
From the corner of my eye the newly decorated tree attempts to divert my attention, with all its shiny baubles and shimmering stars. I'm not making that mistake again. My attention is firmly fixed on the man before me.
Unless.....
As we dance around the room, my eyes flick across the ceiling, searching.
"What are you looking for?" he asks, intrigued.
"You don't appear to have any mistletoe."
Booth pulls back, regarding me with curiosity. "Want me to go get some?"
"It is a tradition."
A/N - Hope you all have a wonderful holiday!