[DISCLAIMER] I don't own Bones, the girls' outfits (which are based off my favourite Emily/Tamara/Michaela looks, cudos to you if you know which ones I'm talking about), Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or Hot Blooded.

A super long one-shot (it's well over 4,000 words) for the last chapter of this story and the last day of 2015. Sit back, grab yourself a nice hot drink and enjoy.

31st December

The Party in the Jeffersonian

"Wow, you look fant-. Frantast-. I-. Wow." He is rendered speechless as his wife exits their bedroom and does a little twirl for him. She's dressed in a black, lacy number, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places. It finishes at her knees, revealing her tanned, shapely thighs. His eyes travel up her body, the short, lace sleeves that cover her shoulders, the reasonably low-cut neckline, her natural make-up that smokes out around the eyes. Her hair has been placed in a low, loose side bun, with curled tendrils framing her face. She looks so gorgeous he loses the ability to form words, making her giggle, her cheeks pinking slightly.

"What he means is, you look incredible, Bones," Parker tells her, stepping in for his awe-struck, stammering father.

"Beautiful," Christine chimes in.

"Very beautiful," Max agrees. "Booth?"

"Y-y-yeah. What they said." He stands up, stepping towards his wife. His mouth lifts in a smile as he takes in her appearance, blown away by her beauty and the fact that he is married to her. "Bones, you look-."

"I know." She smirks. "Well? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

He nods dumbly, forgetting that their children and her father are in the room, his lips finding hers. He deepens the kiss, his arms tightening around her, their bodies melting into each other, so much so that it's difficult to distinguish where Booth starts and where Brennan ends.

"Um." Max turns Christine around and clears his throat. "We're still here, guys."

Brennan pulls away, embarrassed, and laughs softly as she sees Booth's face, wiping away the lipstick there. Booth refuses to let go of her, his hands clinging onto her like a lifeline.

"That's my daughter, Seeley," Max says uncomfortably once they're finished.

Booth picks up on the absence of the word "son" and winces. "Sorry," he mumbles, feeling like a teenager once again.

"Just... If you need to do that stuff, do it when I'm not in the room. I don't need to see you defile my baby."

He decides not to mention the fact that they have two children together so some defiling has clearly gone on or the fact that Brennan was just as eager for that kiss as he was. He keeps quiet, feeling incredibly awkward.

"Thanks for watching the kids, dad," Brennan says, breaking the silence. "We needed this night to ourselves. We really appreciate it."

He nods, his stern gaze fixed upon Booth. "I'm happy to do it."

Booth checks the time and sees they should probably be heading off. (In reality, they don't have to leave for another twenty minutes, but he can't wait to escape his father-in-law's austere stare.) He says goodbye to Parker, reminds him that at no point can he partake in gambling with Max, no matter what the older man says. He gives Christine and Hank cuddles and kisses then waits by the door for his wife who is currently hugging her father, no doubt receiving warnings about his behaviour. She says goodbye to the kids, reluctantly leaving them behind. Booth opens the front door as her heels click towards him.

"Remember protection, Booth!" Max yells after him.

He hurries Brennan out of the house, his face filled with horror as they wait outside for a taxi.

Behind the door, Christine's constantly inquisitive mind prompts her to ask, "what's protection?"

They arrive at the Jeffersonian's annual New Year's Eve party, his horror beginning to fade, predominantly because of the multitude of kisses his wife had pressed to his lips during the taxi ride over. They enter the room, his hand resting at her hip and are immediately impressed by the decorations that adorn the large room. Cam spies them and totters over, her heels even higher than usual.

"Hey, guys! I'm so glad you could make it!"

"It's a nice break from changing diapers, huh, Bones?"

"Yes, absolutely." She kisses the woman's cheek, then takes her hands as she steps back a little, admiring her low-cut white dress with sleeves that poof at the shoulders. "This dress is exquisite, Cam."

"Michelle helped me pick it out," she admits, glancing down at her attire. "Is it too much?"

"Not at all. Are you here with... Anyone?"

Booth catches the look his wife sends him and kisses her once before he leaves, mentioning something about fetching them some drinks.

"Arastoo," Cam confesses, her voice almost at a whisper. "He asked me and I couldn't refuse."

"So this dress is for him?"

Cam lets out a light laugh, catching her drift. "Perhaps."

"That's a yes!" Brennan exclaims, grinning. "What about Sebastian? Does he know?"

"I... Haven't said anything..."

"You haven't ended things with him?"

"No," she replies, her head bowing in shame. "Nothing's happened between Arastoo and I though so-."

"I'm not judging you," Brennan says quickly. "I myself have been partial to seeing two men at once before Booth and I admitted our feelings for one another. However, with you dressed like that, your past relationship and, well, the fact that Arastoo is a man, I wouldn't be surprised if something happened between you two at midnight."

"What's happening with who at midnight?" Angela pipes in nosily, pushing Hodgins' wheelchair in front of her. She stops and puts on the breaks, hugging both Brennan and Cam in greeting.

"Cam and Arastoo are going to kiss."

Angela and Hodgins' eyes widen and Cam stutters at the attention they give her. "Woah. No. Dr. Brennan is assuming we'll kiss, it's not a conclusive fact."

"You haven't denied it though," Hodgins points out, chuckling at his colleague and friend's embarrassment. "Hey, where's Booth?"

"Right here," he says, returning with two glasses, one for him and one for Brennan. She gives him a grateful smile as he hands it to her. "What are we talking about?"

"Cam and Arastoo getting it on again," Angela answers him, smirking.

"Um, what?" The familiar voice of the Iranian appears behind the group and they all turn to him in shock.

"I-. Uh-. Nothing."

"You said, word for word, 'Cam and Arastoo getting it on again' and, unless I'm mistaken, there's nobody else here with our names. So, what are you talking about?"

Cam is frozen in her position, cursing her friends and their gossiping ways. She doesn't know what to do or say but finds herself hurrying after Arastoo when he storms away, throwing an annoyed glare over her shoulder at her friends.

"Oops?" Angela says, biting her lip. "I didn't expect that."

"What's a holiday party without a little bit of drama, huh?" Booth laughs, mainly to dissipate the awkwardness he's feeling. "How are you doing, Hodgins?" He questions, turning the attention to the entomologist.

"I think I'm beginning to come to terms with it," he replies slowly, his tensed jaw implying something different.

"He starts physical therapy next week," Angela provides, her hand squeezing her husband's shoulder supportively. "The nurses say he's already making great progress."

"Great progress from what?" He snaps. "My damn legs still don't move, do they?"

Angela ignores his spurt of anger, used to it. "The doctors say there's still hope-."

"Right. Hope." He shakes his head bitterly. "Forget it. I'm going to get some food." He rolls towards the buffet bar, his head bowed.

She chews at her lower lip as she stares after her despondent husband. "I'm worried about him."

"We all are, Ange, but he'll be ok," Brennan says, hugging her best friend. "On a lighter note, you look great!"

"You really do," Booth agrees, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes focused past Angela on her husband as he dejectedly places food on his plate. He can tell the guy really doesn't want to be here.

Brennan admires Angela's mint green jump suit and classic white heels, her dark cropped hair curled. She is oblivious to her distracted husband-slash-partner as she chats to Angela, however, when the DJ switches the music to a much slower choice "for all the lovers out there" and he doesn't respond to her calls, she notices he's not paying any notice to her at all. She taps him firmly on the chest as Angela leaves them to it, reuniting with her husband. No response. She decides to just kiss him, knowing that will earn his full attention.

His eyes widen as he feels his wife's lips on his and he glances down at her, confused, but pleased at the turn of events. Very pleased.

"Dance with me," she says simply.

He nods because, of course. He loves dancing with her, despite her obvious two left feet and general clumsiness on the dance floor. He rests his hands on her back and pulls her close to him. She lowers her head to his shoulder as they slowly move to the music.

"Love you, Bones," he murmurs against her hair.

She smiles softly to herself. "Love you too, Booth."

"Don't you have a meat-free version?" Booth asks the waiter when he places a pork-based meal in front of Brennan. "My wife's vegan."

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"What's she supposed to eat then? You expect her to starve?"

"I'm not sure, sir, and no, sir, of course not. I'll go talk to my boss." He scurries off towards the kitchen and Booth turns to face his wife, her expression disapproving.

"What? I was standing up for you and your crazy eating habits." He stabs his fork in his meat, eating a large portion. "This is so good. How can you not like this?"

"Because they kill innocent animals just for you to get a few minutes of enjoyment - it's disgusting. Besides, plant-based diets are much healthier."

"I hope you're not going to make Christine and Hank vegan."

"Of course not, Booth!" She responds haughtily. "I will allow them to come to their own decision, once I have provided them with all the facts."

He's shaking his head as the waiter returns, his ire growing as he sees his empty hands. "What, you have nothing?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"My wife's pretty important here and she's a best-selling novelist. We know the boss and she specifically ordered a vegan menu for Bones. Where is it?"

"I'm sorry, I can't help you." The guy looks terrified. "I... Have to finish serving the other tables." He doesn't move, watching Booth as if waiting for permission to leave. The FBI agent nods briefly.

Brennan places her hand in the crook of his arm as the waiter walks away, anxiously glancing back at Booth. "He looks petrified."

"Well, good. It's part of my job to be intimidating, right? Means I'm good at my job."

"You are good at your job, extremely good, in fact-."

He grins. "Thanks, Bones."

"- But working for a federal agency doesn't grant you the liberty to be rude to the poor waiter. I actually worked in many catering establishments when I was on the run and a plethora of people threw insults at me and refused me tips, just for doing my job. I can eat the vegetables. I particularly enjoy broccoli, I haven't eaten it in a while, so this will be a nice treat. Also, you should apologise to him."

"Can I wait until after I've finished eating?"

"No," she says, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"My food will go cold."

"Booth."

He sighs, pushing himself off his seat, pointing at her. "If you steal my broccoli, Mrs. Booth, you're in serious trouble. Got it?"

She nods seriously and when his back is turned, takes two pieces of brassica oleracea, one of her favourite sources of vitamins C. Taking a bite of the green stalk, she smirks cheekily to herself.

Dinner eaten, Brennan, Angela and Cam sit at the makeshift bar, drinking various cocktails the bartender assembles for them. The man, who can be no more than in his early twentys is clearly flirting with the attractive older women, not even charging them for the drinks.

"It's on me," he says, a handsome smile on his face. "What else can I get you?"

"She'll take a daiquiri," Angela replies, jutting a thumb in Brennan's direction, "Cam will have a French 75 and one margarita for me."

"Awesome." He begins combining the alcoholic beverages, shaking them together along with some ice and pouring the mixture into the glasses, sliding them over to the female scientists. He leaves to serve one of their colleagues from the antiquities department and returns, leaning his elbows against the bar. "You ladies look beautiful tonight."

Angela blushes slightly and grins, noticeably flirting back with him. "You are pretty hot yourself. What's your name, tall dark and handsome?"

His eyes glint with delight. "I'm Tony, and you?"

"Angela Montenegro. I'm an artist."

"Oh wow. Really? I'm doing an art degree at Georgetown, I just bartend for some extra money on the side."

"Talented and attractive? Must be my lucky day."

Before her drunken best friend can bed the college student, Brennan takes her arm, pulling her away from the man who she is merely inches apart from, both having leaned closer and closer together as they talked and exchanged amorous looks. "She's married," Brennan tells him. "They have a son together. She's not interested. Sorry."

"Oh." He seems disappointed for a moment, then turns to Brennan, his face brightening. "How about you?" He asks coyly.

"Also married," she replies, holding up her left hand, the ring glinting in the lights.

"And the beautiful woman in white?"

"Wow, you really do not give up do you," Cam remarks.

He shakes his head. Normally when older women hang around the bar for an extended period of time it's because they want to have sex with him, something he is all to happy to give. It's disheartening that the three most alluring women he's had at his bar aren't remotely interested in him, just the alcohol. He tries once more, just for the heck of it. "Are these marriages...serious?"

"Very," Brennan says, collecting her drink and leaving, guiding Angela away from him despite her vehement protestations. They join Booth and Wendell as they sip on their beer discussing their latest hockey match. "Hey."

"Hey there, Bones." He beckons her over to him and she happily obliges, his arm snaking round her waist and her hand easily resting against his chest. "Having a good time?"

"Apart from the creep who just hit on us, yes, I believe it is an adequate party."

"Thanks, Dr. Brennan," Cam says as she's on the party planning board. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Woah, woah, woah. Who was hitting on you?" A jealous look crosses his face.

"Don't worry, Booth, I told him I was married straight away."

"Damn right you did." His hold on her tightens. "Who was this jerk anyway?"

"The smoking hot bartender," Angela answers, smiling slyly as she points over her shoulder. The guy, who'd been watching them, waves at the group. Angela waves back, fluttering her eyelashes. "He's a college student."

"You also have a husband," Wendell reminds her, chuckling. "Remember?"

"I know, I know," she intones. "I'm not that drunk! I love Hodgins but I can't help it; that guy is h-o-t, hot."

"Don't let bugboy hear you say that, it'll crush him."

"I'll have you know, Mr. Booth, we have no secrets in our marriage and we often talk about other people we find attractive. Nothing ever happens, it's just a bit of fun. Don't you and Brennan do that?"

"Booth gets jealous very easily," Brennan explains when he shakes his head, a frown on his face.

"Hey, no! It's not my fault if you accept an invite to a barbecue with another man right in front of me. You're my wife, of course it's going to annoy me."

"You, what? When did this happen?"

"It's a long story," Brennan says, finishing her daiquiri. "It was during the case at the cowboy competition. And it was Wanda, not me, Booth."

"Same difference. Point is, Hodgins is vulnerable right now; this might push him over the edge."

"I wouldn't cheat on him, Booth, unlike Cam, who is totally cheating on my mentor!"

"I am not," the pathologist hisses. "I'm not."

"You're telling me you're not going to kiss your ex-boyfriend at midnight?"

"Nope. Not at all."

"Mmm, sure." Angela purses her lips. "Anyone want another drink?"

"I'll get them," Wendell jumps in when Cam and Brennan raise their hands. "Don't want you going over there again."

"Smart move," Booth says, clapping his good friend on the back, before he walks towards the bar.

"Hi, Max," Brennan answers, one hand holding her cell to her ear, the other attempting to block out the sounds of the party. She's just stepped outside the answer the call, but the blaring music is making it difficult to hear her father on the other end of the line. "What's going on? Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're having a great time over here," Max replies.

"How's Hank? Did he get to sleep ok?"

"Hank is perfect. He's sleeping like a baby."

She smiles as Booth joins her and puts the phone on loudspeaker. "Good. Is this just a social call or do you have something important to tell me? Because-."

"Party. I get it, I get it. Christine's having trouble sleeping. Parker and I have read her two books each and still nothing. She wants to speak to you and Booth, if he can keep it in his pants for two minutes to talk to his daughter."

Booth clenches his jaw, feeling all the progress he's made with his father-in-law disappear. "I'm here, Max."

They hear a crackle on the other end of the line, then Christine's voice coming through the speaker. "Mommy! Daddy!"

"We're here, sweetheart. Are you ok?"

"I can't sleep. I miss you," she says sadly, the tone of voice tugging at her parent's heartstrings.

"We miss you too, C, but we'll see you in the morning!"

"What time?"

"11AM," Brennan answers, wanting at least a little bit of a lie in with her husband in the fancy hotel they're staying at.

"That's too late. I want daddy's pancakes," she complains.

"You can have them as dessert after dinner. How's that sound, baby girl?"

"Better."

"Will you try and get some sleep now? Mommy and daddy need to go," Booth tells her. He'd requested Hot Blooded to be played in twenty minutes and he wants to be on the dance floor with his wife when their song starts playing.

"Sing me a song first."

"Christine, we're in public."

"Sing."

He sighs deeply, knowing exactly which song his daughter wants him to sing. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," he begins, Brennan's voice combining with his for the second line. "How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like-."

"A diamond in the sky," the five year old sings sleepily with them. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are."

"Beautiful singing, sweetheart. Goodnight, we both love you very much."

"Night, night, sleepy head," Booth adds, blowing a kiss down the phone because Christine always insists he does.

"Love you," she murmurs. Her voice sounds groggy and they both know she is drifting off to sleep, without Max's whispered confirmation as he takes the phone back and leaves her bedroom.

"We're gonna go, dad," Brennan tells him.

"Remember, Parker's underage, so no gambling. Got it?"

"Remember, Tempe's my daughter, so no inappropriate behaviour. Got it?" The older man echoes amid Booth's frustration.

"We're married, Max. We have two kids, for goodness sake. We have sex, get over it."

"La la la la la la la," he sings down the phone, pretending he didn't hear the s-e-x word.

"Whatever." Booth hangs up the phone. "Your dad is unbelievable."

"Why are you putting yourself on a tall horse, Booth? I believe you will be the same when Christine comes of age."

"It's high-horse and don't even mention that, don't even put in the atmosphere."

"See!" She rolls her eyes at him. "You and Max are two sides of the same coin. I've always thought this."

"No, absolutely not. He is a criminal and I am a federal agent. I support the Flyers and he," Booth pulls a disgusted face, "supports the Blue Jackets."

"Are you going to keep sulking over my father or are we going to return to the party?"

"The second option," he replies quickly. "You have to admit though, Max is being extremely unreasonable. It's not like he can expect us to be celibate, we're married!"

"Booth."

"Right. Yeah. Party."

He forces all thoughts of Max Keenan out of his mind as his wife takes his hand and they walk back into the throng of the crowd. A few moments later, the opening beats to their song ring out and Brennan's eyes dart to his, silently asking if he's responsible for this. He simply smirks and starts jumping up and down, his wife joining in.

Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see, I got a fever of a hundred and three. Come on baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, hot blooded.

He whips out his air guitar, playing it as his wife tips her head back and forth, feeling like a rockstar as they sing the words loudly, passionately.

You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind, honey, you oughta know. Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line.

"I wanna know what you're doin' after the show," she sings to him, her eyes darkening. He steadfastly focuses on the important task of the air guitar, trying to ignore how good his wife looks right now. "Now it's up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous, just me and you, I'll show you lovin' like you never knew." Damn right she will. His wife his amazing and he finds himself desperate for this party to end so he can tug her back to their hotel room, like, right now. As they sing along and dance crazily to the chorus and following verse, a crowd gathers around them, laughing with the happy couple. He's pretty sure he spies Wendell filming them and if he finds this video on the internet, he will kill his friend, cancer survivor or not.

Hot blooded, I'm a little bit high. Hot blooded, you're a little bit shy. Hot blooded, you're making me sing. Hot blooded, for your sweet sweet thing.

Everybody applauds them as the music fades out and Brennan bows for her audience. He grins, pulling his wife closer, both panting for breath.

"That was amazing," she whispers in his ear.

"Probably my favourite rendition so far," he replies.

"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe we can better it in our hotel room later. Naked."

Has he mentioned he really loves his wife?

Booth's finding it difficult to concentrate with all the hints Brennan keeps dropping him throughout the evening about what she wants to do in his hotel room later on. It gets to half eleven and he's considering calling it a night, dragging her to that hotel as fast as he can.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Booth," she teases, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes.

The last half hour before midnight feels like the longest of his life as he watches the countdown religiously, just wanting to hightail it out of the Jeffersonian and to the hotel room as fast as he can. His friends' drama keeps him distracted; Hodgins looking sad and lonely as he watches Angela dance from the edge of the floor, Cam's constant Sebastian-Arastoo dilemma and Daisy and Wendell's drunken dance moves that would make even Angela blush. He's glad that, for once, it's not him and Brennan providing the group with a source of soap opera-like drama.

They have had an interesting year full of ups and downs though. His gambling relapse, her kicking him out, him returning home, the birth of their perfect son Hank, his near-death and the tragic loss of his brother that he was forced to witness, as well as the many ups of family life, contrasting with the devastating sadness of the explosion and Hodgins' diagnosis. Throughout everything, they've stayed together and he thinks their relationship is now stronger than it's ever been.

"One minute until midnight, Booth," he hears Brennan say in his ear. He must have lost track of time with his thoughts. He pulls Brennan closer, playing with the ends of her hair.

"You are so beautiful."

"You're not too shabby yourself. You look so good in this, but it would look better on my floor."

His eyes widen in shock. Did his wife just use the cheesy pick-up line he used to get girls back in the day? He shakes his head. She still finds ways to amaze him constantly, one of the many things that he loves about her. "I can't believe you just said that," he murmurs, kissing her cheek.

"I'm full of surprises, Booth."

He kisses her forehead. "Yes, you are."

"Ten seconds."

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to her level. He happily obliges.

Nine...

His lips twitch into a smile, his eyes twinkling.

Eight...

She plays with the hair at the back of his neck while she waits for the chime of midnight, desperately wanting to smash her lips against his and get lost in the feeling of him.

Seven...

He quickly recalls all the kisses they've shared this year. The kiss when she told him she had faith in him, the comforting kisses he'd placed to her forehead when she was having contractions and immensely uncomfortable, the repeated kisses after their son was born (thankfully not in a barn this time) and the way she'd kissed away his tears after Jared's funeral.

Six...

They usually try to avoid public displays of affection at work (to be professional) and in general (the paparazzi are everywhere when you're a best selling author). However, right now, she is itching to kiss him, the seconds slowly ticking away.

Five...

"I love you, Bones," he says.

Four...

"I love you, Booth," she says.

Three...

They smile, their eyes fixed on one another, their faces millimetres apart.

Two...

So close. Come on, come on, come on, Brennan thinks.

One...

The countdown hits zero and Booth's lips are against Brennan's, his fingers already tangled in her hair. She deepens the kiss, melting into him. She doesn't want to let go. She wants to keep kissing him forever. With the intensity of his kiss, she knows he feels the same.

(For the record, Brennan totally sees Cam and Arastoo kissing and she smiles smugly. Told you so.)

And that's the end! I can't believe this story (and 2015) have come to an end, it's gone so quick! I will be writing the London fic (among other new B&B ones) so look out for that! I've had a great time writing these and I hope you've enjoyed reading them just as much.

Your reviews have made me very, very happy and I appreciate every single one of you who's read, favourited or reviewed this story. I hope you have a safe New Year's Eve and a wonderful 2016.

Here's to another year of crime solving, their adorable kids, meals in the Royal Diner, post-crime-solving celebrations in the Founding Fathers and lots and lots of love.