Author's Note: Each chapter is told from a different character's POV. This one fills in a time gap between Angela and Brennan's chapters. (Just in case anyone gets confused.)

Thank you for reading and thank you for all the reviews! I'm going to be sending out a lot of back-owed thank you notes tonight and tomorrow...

~Q~

~ The Match Under the Mistletoe ~

~Q~

Hodgins

18 December 2006

"She's going to El Salvador. On Friday!"

Angela burst into the Ookie room flapping her arms, whirling as if trying to chase off phantom pigeons and the danger posed by her distress forced the room's occupant to meet her at the door. A beaker nearly knocked to the floor was whisked out of harm's way just in the nick of time, causing her to pause just the flailing part. Her widened eyes were still broadcasting alarm.

"Well, I guess that's to be expected," Jack Hodgins found himself agreeing. After watching her father and brother vanish a few days ago, right before Christmas, it was a given that Doctor B would revert to form and vanish herself as soon as United Airlines would allow.

"No, this is — we can't let her go!"

To see her this upset was such a rare thing that he couldn't help asking. "Why not?"

"Do you have any idea what happened to her the last time she was in El Salvador?" Abruptly Angela stopped herself, clapping hands over her mouth and peering over them as if realizing she'd just blurted out a confidence. Glancing guiltily past him, scanning the rest of the Ookie area for Zack or other eavesdropping techs, she sagged just a little when her belated reconnaissance revealed they were alone.

Did he have any idea.

Studying a stag beetle trapped inside a specimen jar, noting that creature's fate bore certain similarities to his own a few weeks prior (trapped in a small space but at least not in the dark), he wondered what he should say. During those hours underground he'd learned far more about his coworker than he'd ever expected to know, and she about him. By mutual agreement (unspoken), neither had mentioned anything regarding the confidences shared and his implicit understanding since their emergence was, that neither of them would ever repeat what they'd learned about each other.

But Angela was Brennan's best friend and clearly she knew something.

"She was in the dark for three days," Jack revealed slowly, testing to see if what Brennan had shared with him in the car was the same confidence Angela feared having inadvertently exposed.

Her hands fell, her relief mixed with curiosity. "You do know."

"Doctor B has a funny way off offering comfort." Shaking his head, Hodgins was quite surprised to find himself laughing at something not even distantly amusing. Horror was not 'fun' or funny. Except, now that he was thinking of it, the frank way she'd said it actually did present as comedy's cousin: dry, nearly sardonic, tinged with the haughty confidence of an expert. "She assured me being buried alive in a car was a vastly superior fate to being locked in a black prison cell, subject to beatings and threats with a bag over her head. And that having company was better than being alone."

Though nodding along with all that he'd said, the final statement caused Angela's feathery brows to lift off in flight, her beautiful lips pursing as she pondered that last little gem of hard-won wisdom.

"I was in a lot of pain," he added, swallowing down a bilious bulge of bad memory just from thinking of what had happened so recently. "She kept talking, trying to keep me from freaking out."

Tears spilling, Ange touched echoing streams coming from his, just as tender with him now as she was that night when she'd first offered him companionship. "We can't let her go to El Salvador just because she thinks she's alone. Can't you do something?"

Laughter over tears always feels a little forced, as if the sorrow won't let go without a fight while the humor is dancing around with a feather and tickling in all the wrong places. That's how he felt right that moment, dark memories gripping tight while Angela's love and faith (in his wealth) tickled him under bright lights. "What, am I supposed to buy United and ground all flights to Central America?"

"Yeah. You can do that, right?" Her hope-filled sigh brought out a match from him.

"Sure. I'll get right on it."

Nodding, she almost seemed to believe they'd formed a foolproof plan. "Her flight is leaving on the 22nd, so we have plenty of time."

"To do what," he wondered aloud. (Because United wasn't up for sale and forced take-overs were not Cantilever style.)

"We can … invite her to have Christmas with us."

"Me, you, Doctor B, and your Dad…?" The thought of meeting her infamous father already had him on edge but this was just asking for disaster.

"No, come on, don't be like that. My dad will love you. Besides, he already likes Bren."

"He does." Hodgins wasn't sure how she knew that Billy Gibbons liked anyone, or even if it was possible given the man was such an enigma. He just … stared. Through those dark glasses. Then again, Doctor B was a three-times black belt and Billy was getting on in years…. So yeah, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Oh absolutely. He said she's a straight shooter, that's a high compliment. Okay, so you ask her to join us and I'll badger her into helping me finish plans for the Christmas party."

"Baby, the party's on the same day her flight leaves, and Christmas is after that. She's not going to stay."

"She's leaving that night, that means she can be at the party before she goes. And then, we'll just make it so that she wants to stay." Angela nodded to herself, mustering up the fortitude to completely vanquish every snarled objection a wounded Brennan was likely to offer.

And Jack fully believed Angela was up to the task. After all, she'd managed to goad Brennan into attending the raucous, Jeffersonian-wide party last year, so how much harder could it be to drag the reluctant anthropologist into a much smaller, intimate, lab-mates only Secret Santa fest that Brennan herself had had a hand in arranging…?

The woman they were plotting against emerged from her office, face chilly and turned away from any potential sources of eye contact.

Yeah. Angela's odds rivaled a snowball's chance on the Devil's playground.

Getting her to attend the party after all that had happened would be hard enough, but getting her to give up her flight southwards…? That was going to take some kind of miracle.

Seeing the work cut out for her Angela drew Jack deeper into his own Ookie space, laying her head against his shoulder with a sorrowful little snuffle. "If I ever seen Max or Russ Brennan again I swear I will kick them in the balls. No mercy."

As Brennan breezed past Camille Saroyan the chill increased (upping the odds that snowballs in hell might actually survive for an hour given current conditions) and Hodgins shook his head. "The Brennan family is a piece of work, but that's not the only reason she's so distant these days."

His eyes strayed up to the mistletoe hanging at the door.

~Q~

22 December 2006

It is a truth seldom acknowledged that the definition of a miracle depends upon the eye of the beholder.

Hodgins held this truth to be self-evident as he watched the renaissance of Angela's hope and its growing contrast with Temperance Brennan's darkening countenance. Both of them were standing at the loft window, gaping outwards with equal measures of delight or dismay — again, depending upon whom you asked.

"Oh, this is perfect!" Angela crowed, clapping her hands joyously. "Snow right before Christmas, during our party? We can have snowball fights, make snow angels. Oh Bren, isn't this wonderful?"

"No. It's not. When is it going to stop?" Aghast, Doctor B whipped out her phone that had begun faintly buzzing in her pocket. "I'm supposed to leave for the airport at four."

Zack pressed his own advantage, squeezing between them to note the lowering sky. "The prediction calls for six to eight inches accumulation by six o'clock tonight. It appears we've already received an inch."

As her dismay deepened into distress, Brennan lamented the latest disaster to befall her this year. "But my flight is…."

"Most likely going to be cancelled," Zack opined.

One might be tempted to call him a pessimist but, as was usually the case … he was correct. Her crestfallen features said it all, as soon as she got a look at the incoming text message. "It's cancelled. They're predicting ten inches."

"Sweetie, you know you're welcome to stay with Jack and me." Not even waiting for a confirmation from him on whether or not it would be okay to ask, Angela turned to Zack. "And you, if your flight home gets cancelled tomorrow."

"Yeah, man." Hodgins proffered the most welcoming smile he could produce, nodding for good measure when the smile didn't seem to be enough to corral either of his coworkers. "I got more space than I know what to do with. You can both come. And Angela's dad will be there."

"I thought we weren't allowed to ask about his identity."

Zack's doubtful recollection of her firm order from last year introduced an unwelcome burst of tachycardia in Hodgins. If they couldn't talk about him being famous, then what could they discuss? For days! Hodgins found himself gulping down a bit of residual terror.

"Well, I guess we've all gotten past that awkward, getting to know you phase, right? So, my dad is a rock star. Surprise! But you know, he's just my dad. I mean, to me he's…. Yeah. But, um, he's 'Mr. Gibbons' to my friends. I mean, don't call him Billy and you'll be fine." Angela nodded a little too brightly, noting Zack's blank stare was morphing into panic while her best friend was slowly withdrawing from the conversation.

"I'm not going to call him anything," Brennan mumbled.

And then there were three standing at the window. Brennan's retreat down the stairs left hollow echoes pelting across the loft's steel treads.

"What's it going to take to get her to stay with us," Hodgins wondered aloud.

"Oh, now you're finally on board with this?"

"She's a black belt!"

Breathing out slowly, Zack added: "And your dad is scary."

"You're both cowards. But fine. Whatever works." Spinning, Angela squared her shoulders and marched straight into battle.

~Q~

Deck the hall, dim the light, play some music and dance all night.

If Angela had her way, that was still a possibility (the all night thing) but for now she seemed to be content with afternoon delight. Smiles all around, good-natured aspersions cast back and forth, raised glasses of punch and even Brennan, for the moment, looked pleased. Booth had her cornered and laughing over some highly animated tale, her eyes crinkling and her face more relaxed than anyone had seen it in weeks. That's where Angela was directing her attention, her month-long mission seemingly a fait accompli.

Booth and Brennan were edging ever closer to a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the exit of the platform….

"Any minute now," she murmured.

Hodgins took a seat beside his satisfied hostess, the party planner extraordinaire (matchmaker on the side), and nudged her approvingly. "You're pretty good at this."

"When I was growing up, I helped my dad's personal assistant sometimes. He taught me quite a few tricks."

"For putting together Christmas parties?"

"Among other things," she laughed, raising a puckish brow that told Hodgins he'd already heard everything she would ever tell him about that particular tutor.

"You know, I could just ask your dad…."

"Don't you dare."

"Oh, right," Hodgins agreed. "He probably doesn't know."

"There's nothing wrong with keeping a little secret."

"You're a little too talented at keeping secrets." Holding up the gift she'd given him (a nondescript tropical seedling with long, green leaves and a name that made him laugh out loud), his delight at getting it obliterated any effort at sounding peeved over her deception. "You told me you had Zack."

Angela's eyes snapped teasing sparks. "Oh, did I say Zack? I was sure I said 'Jack.' You must have misunderstood."

Oh no, she'd outright lied but he couldn't be mad because…. This. This darling little plant. Even knowing there was a ten-year wait ahead before he could partake of the odoriferous spectacle-to-come couldn't extinguish his excitement. Some things are so worth waiting for. And this was definitely one of those things. "Where did you get this?!"

Amorphophallus titanum. Who wouldn't love it, just by the name alone (misshapen giant ... phallus. ha! Aptly named), but what made it even better was the name it was more popularly known by: Corpse Flower. Blooms every few years to reveal a huge flower bearing a horrific stench like rotting flesh, extremely rare outside of Sumatra and now he had his very own specimen.

"Bren helped me. She knows a Botanist over at the Botanical Gardens."

God, he loved her for this: for thinking of it, for getting it, for watching with that darling little smirk while she dropped hints regarding its taxonomy and nomenclature, waiting until he realized what he was holding. "Ange..."

"It was her idea, actually."

Startled now, he turned from the artist eyeing the green sprout with distaste to the anthropologist still flirting with Booth. "I asked if she could help me think of an exotic plant to give you and she said you'd probably appreciate a Corpse Flower. Just know that I am not going anywhere near that thing when it's blooming."

He laughed, pulling her in for another tender kiss. "Thank you. I love it."

As they drew apart she sighed. "You know, we should thank Bren, too. I mean, she assigned us to be each other's Secret Santa and I know she helped Naomi get Zack that watch he's been talking about for weeks — you know, the one that will do everything but his taxes. And Cam gave Booth ring-side Capitals seats for four Saturday night home games."

"And Booth got Cam tickets to West Side Story," Hodgins laughed. "It's a Broadway musical featuring unrequited love and knife fights so, win-win."

A flurry of movement caught his eye, causing Hodgins to turn his head the other way just in time to see pretty Naomi (from Paleontology) wrap her slender arms around Zack Addy and kiss him for the third time today. "I just love it, Doctor Addy." And Zack was blushing hot pink but loving every minute of her gratitude.

"Naomi really loves that fossil bead necklace," Hodgins chuckled.

"Well it's got petrified bamboo, amber, ancient coral … everything from trilobites to coprolites."

Noticing that Cam was drawing Booth away from Brennan at last, Hodgins decided now might be a good time to distract her with a heart-felt thanks for the stinky flower he couldn't wait to cultivate. She was standing by herself watching her partner and before he'd covered half the distance he saw the change come over her.

The pretty warmth bled away, leaving nothing but desolation in the wake of her hasty departure. Before he could even imagine what had caused it she'd already spun and silently slipped out the door. Hodgins turned as well, looking back just in time to see Booth ending his kiss with Cam under the mistletoe.

Their eyes met, man to man, and Booth asked. "What's wrong with Bones...?"

~Q~

"How long before he manages to drag her back in here?"

Angela's sardonic question turned his head away from the window, prompting one of his own. "Why, are we laying bets?"

"Sure." She shrugged, glancing backwards at the Christmas party in full swing. "We have competing forces at work: Brennan's bad mood versus Booth's persistence and charm."

Hodgins grinned at the odds. "Twenty minutes. Doctor B doesn't give up easily."

"Five minutes," Zack disagreed, consulting his new wristwatch purely as a matter of precision. "Frigid temperatures will hasten the process considerably."

"Fifteen," chipped in Cam. They all turned to regard her contribution with surprise, earning themselves a half-hearted shrug. "There's no hard feelings here, but all things considered…? He's got his work cut out for him."

"Yeah, about that," Angela purred.

Cam's eyes widened. "That was not my idea, it was his."

"It was Booth's idea for you to kiss him publicly under the mistletoe?"

"No, that was my idea because I was tired of hiding. It was Seeley's idea to hide us in the first place."

Hodgins snorted. "Well yeah, because he was afraid of repercussions with a certain partner."

Waving her arms with more passion than she'd ever expressed before, Cam defended her actions. "Look. Doctor Brennan is no shrinking violet. I assumed she would go after anything she wanted, Seeley included, and if she wasn't taking any interest…? Green light."

"Yeah only, she doesn't operate that way." Angela turned back to the window, squinting out into the snow as she watched Booth vanish into swirling snowflakes. "She won't go where she's not invited. Booth never extended the invitation."

"How is that my fault," Cam demanded.

"It isn't." Hodgins followed up his absolution with a sage nod of wisdom, hard-earned six feet underground. "Doctor B never let him know how she felt."

So Booth couldn't be blamed either, if he didn't have all the facts.

One carefully vetted fact, perfectly timed, might be just what the doctor ordered. (Considering the fact that she'd saved his life and ensured he'd get a Corpse Flower for Christmas, Hodgins figured his little bit of meddling was the least he could do in return.)

It was fitting, then, that in the end Hodgins won with twenty-two minutes elapsed since Booth went outside. They'd all abandoned their vigil at the window, waiting instead by the punchbowl which was close enough to hear them coming long before they came into view.

When the partners emerged back through the door, still bickering, Hodgins noted Doctor B was red-nosed and stumbling while Booth grimly tugged her across the lab. Ignoring every sputtered objection she could muster he pulled his blustering partner up the steps to the platform, setting off squeaking alarms and Hodgins grinned. The G-Man did that on purpose.

As the alarms squealed and every single sentient being inside the lab turned to stare, Seeley Booth looked up. Another quite deliberate move on his part, followed by rough positioning of his partner so she was standing precisely where he wanted her. One of the security officers finally silenced that squall and just in time. The entire lab found itself in thrall, watching Booth wrap a large hand around the back of his partner's head.

No one was breathing at this point.

Angela grabbed Hodgins by the hand, her nails biting into his palm so hard it hurt, like teeth, but all he did was squeeze back because….

Good Lord!

He'd done it.

Half a tug, half a step, (a collective gasp!) and Seeley Booth was finally kissing Temperance Brennan under the mistletoe, in admittedly the most public display of affection the reclusive FBI Agent ever could have hoped to avoid. It wasn't just a peck. Nowhere near a nuzzle. No. He was pressing her closer, pushing his lips hard against hers, opening his mouth and demanding her full participation.

It was the kind of kiss that curls toes and blisters paint. The kind that vacuums oxygen out of lungs, leaving both parties breathless over the inferno burning between them. And even then they didn't stop.

Booth carpeted her face with rows of kisses, nuzzling now, nipping next, his palms splaying around her head, holding her still while he kissed the hell out of her. "Anthropologically," he muttered against her mouth. "A man kissing a woman…" more scalding caresses against her cheeks, nose, eyes "…in public…" and another dive past her open lips, so blatant that any fool could tell there'd been tongue contact. "Under the mistletoe…"

He pulled back at last, and she was still trapped between his hands, under that magical herb.

"What does it mean, Bones?"

Jack Hodgins swore he'd never seen anything hotter than this, the way Doctor B looked every bit the part of a dazed, love-struck teenager. "I… I don't know."

"Does it mean nothing?"

She shook her head, her eyes shimmering like grey-blue puddles reflecting rainbow weather: after the storm passes and the blue is just starting to peek out past the clouds. Much as he adored Angela, Hodgins acknowledged Brennan's eyes were the most marvelous, changeable color, arguably her best asset; and how Booth had managed to resist her for so long was anybody's guess.

Well, he sure wasn't resisting now.

Sending a poignant glance Cam's way, one that could easily be misconstrued (especially by someone as naïve as Brennan), Seeley Booth turned back to the woman he was bent on winning. "One kiss is not a commitment. Two kisses…." And again, the onslaught caught her off guard.

The heat generated between those two singed everyone in the room. No one watching could help but be affected and Hodgins had half a mind to drag Angela into the nearest nook for some Christmas nookie. Only captivity to scalding curiosity over what would happen next kept him rooted because there was no predicting. (Just because he'd instigated it, didn't mean Hodgins had any idea how it was going to turn out.)

By the time the second series of seductive maneuvers came to an end Doctor B was on the verge of either tears or mayhem. (Really. It could go either way when she was wearing that particular frown.) Torn as if tormented but also irritated and now thoroughly confused, she accused her partner of false pretenses. "You said there was a gift for me."

Booth's smile might rightly be called predatory. "You said couples who kiss more than once under the mistletoe will be getting married."

Well, that did it.

Doctor B's mouth moved to argue before the words connected, that much was clear. The proof that she'd begun to speak before perceiving arrived half a second later, with a strangled little squeak when she finally realized just what he'd said. If Booth had suddenly sprouted wings and declared he was Cupid she couldn't have been any more amazed than she was at this pronouncement.

~Q~

Author Asks: How much would you hate me if I ended it here...? :P

There was supposed to be three chapters but I've already run WAY over my (self-imposed) word limit. I'm sure you're all wondering what is going on. So, one more chapter to explain exactly how this insane turn of events came about.