Day 7 prompt: Frost
Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it.
Rated T for language (even if it is just in Booth's thoughts).
I still don't own Bones.
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As Booth pulled up into the driveway, he noticed that frost had covered everything in sight while he was gone. With the moon bright overhead, it almost appeared as a winter wonderland. The grass on the lawn, the remaining leaves on the trees were all crusted in a white frosty glaze and sparkled like gaudy jewels in the moonlight.
After he left his SUV, he walked across the driveway and up onto the porch. The air around him was frigid and the thought of anyone unfortunate to be out at this time of night made him feel sympathetic towards their plight. Opening the door, he was hit by a blast of warm air, well maybe not a blast, but for just a second it seemed like it since the cold air outside was a real lung burner. From 74 degrees Christmas to 10 degrees today. Yuck!
Closing the door behind him, Booth noticed that the Christmas lights were still twinkling on the tree. Yeah, it's been seven days since Christmas. If I don't get that tree down soon, Bones is going to kick my ass from here to the Hoover and back. Shit!
The air warm and downright comfortable, Booth removed his coat, hat and gloves and carried them over to the closet. After he hung up the coat, he stuffed the gloves in the pockets and placed his hat on the shelf.
Hungry, Booth walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge and rummaged around the shelves trying to find that left over chicken that he had carefully hidden behind the cauliflower and beets. Damn that kid. He found my chicken. Fourteen years old and he's eating me out of house and home. Fuck!
With little choice, Booth removed the sliced ham, some cheese and the mayo from the fridge and made a sandwich with the last two slices of bread. Got to go to the store I see. We just went four days ago . . . Next time I'll hide my chicken behind the yogurt containers. Hank hates that shit. Well at least he doesn't drink my beer yet.
After retrieving a bottle of beer from the fridge, Booth moved into the living room and sat down on the couch to eat his sandwich and drink his beer. Staring at his Christmas tree, he noticed that the tree was starting to lose its greenness. Yeah, yeah, greenness probably isn't even a word. Whatever! I'll take it down tomorrow . . . probably.
Finished with his sandwich and the beer, Booth stood up and stretched until he heard his lower back pop. Shit! Feeling tired and just a little put out for having to work so late, he carried the bottle back into the kitchen, dumped it in the recycle bin and placed the mayo jar back in the fridge.
Sated, Booth walked down the hallway and entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Like many times in his life, he stopped and stared at Brennan sleeping on her side of the bed. His gaze taking in the soft rise and fall of her breasts, Booth tore his gaze away and found a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants lying on the dresser waiting for him. A quick smile at his sleeping wife and Booth entered the bathroom to take a quick shower.
Once he was done, he returned to the bedroom and quietly slid onto the mattress trying not to disturb his Bones. As he settled down next to her, he found that he wasn't the only one not asleep in the bed. Her hand finding his arm, Booth smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Rolling over on his side, he kissed her. "The Sokolek case broke and I wanted to be there when they brought that bastard in."
Brennan smiled and returned his kiss. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're home now. Hank wants to know if you're going to his hockey game tomorrow."
Groaning, Booth fell back on his back and closed his eyes. "I forgot that was tomorrow. . . Of course I'll be there . . . You know when you're 59 years old and your son is 14 . . . I'm old Bones."
She knew he was just letting the tiredness speak for him. "You are not old, Booth. 59 is not old. You've been up for twenty hours and you're just tired."
Opening his eyes, Booth grinned at his wife and partner. "Yeah, you're right. 59 isn't old. Want me to prove it to you?"
Amused, Brennan laughed and shook her head. "While that might be enjoyable, we both have to be up in five hours to go to Hank's hockey game and I think our time would be better spent sleeping. I would like a rain check though."
Snorting, Booth pulled her into his arms. "You got it Bones. I'm all yours tomorrow night."
Snuggled into his embrace, Brennan closed her eyes. "Sometimes I think about our lives and what we have and it astonishes me. We've been married for over fifteen years Booth. We have two wonderful children. Sometimes it doesn't seem real to me. It's not what I thought would happen with my life."
Struggling to stay awake, Booth yawned. "I know, I get that feeling too sometimes, but we are married and we're living the dream, Bones. We're living the dream."
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