"Daddy, Daddy!"

"Whoa!" Seeley Booth scoops his daughter up into his arms, settling her on in the strong safety of one arm while he uses the other to straighten the couch cushions. She's fresh from the tub and after a story, she'll be off to bed, ready to dream of reindeer and elves and snowmen and Santa. "Shouldn't you be in bed, little bug?"

"Will you read me a story?" Christine's little voice is accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. "Please?"

"Of course, bug."

She's all flowers and talc powder and red pajamas made of soft flannel; a gift, courtesy of auntie Angela, who insisted on including Christine in the Hodgins tradition of giving all of the kids a brand new pair of pajamas to sleep in Christmas eve night.

Christine is also all her mother, from the hair, to the jarring blue eyes, and the brilliant little brain.

And, Booth wouldn't change a single thing.

So, with Christine in his arms, he makes his way to her room to let her pick out the story she would like him to lend his voice to, tonight. It's no surprise when she comes leaping back to him with the classic tale of the night before Christmas.

"This one, Daddy." she holds up the book for him to see.

"Okay, sweetheart. Let's go get in Mommy and Daddy's bed." and, she's off before he can even finish. Bounding away, book clutched to her chest, and giggling all the way down the hall.

"Be careful, honey." Brennan warns her daughter. "Why don't I hold the book and you can climb up, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

"Is Daddy coming?" Brennan waits while her daughter climbs up on the bed and snuggles under the covers, closest to Booth's pillow. Once her daughter's settled, she hands her the book and goes about the rest of her nightly routine.

"Daddy's right here."

"Yay!" Christine bounces excitedly, "C'mon, Daddy!"

"I'm coming."

He slides into the bed beside her, legs stretched out in front of him, and his back against the headboard. Without need of instruction, Christine climbs into his lap and happily hands him the book, eager to hear her father's voice bring it to life. Once, she's settled, he opens the book and begins.

"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring..." His voice is a soft, low timbre in her ear and she snuggles deeper into him, head resting against his shoulder, little arms slung around his chest. "Not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there..."

Christine giggles, when he puffs out his cheeks, and a rumble of "Ho!Ho!Ho!" vibrates his chest.

"The children were nestled all snug in their beds." Brennan emerges from the bathroom, all soft and clean after a shower, and ready for bed in a pair of sweatpants and an old FBI sweatshirt, she swiped in the beginning stages of their relationship. She climbs into bed, and moves closer to him, settling into his side, while their daughter occupies his front.

"While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads..." Despite her ability to logic and reason her way out of just about everything, she's never been able to deny the soothing quality of Booth's voice, and her eyelids begin to droop after just one line.

The story goes on and Christine's little body relaxes, small hands relinquishing their grip on his t-shirt as sleep claims her. He continues reading and by the end of the story, she's sleeping soundly and Brennan is leaning into him heavily, his voice wrapping around her like a soft, warm blanket.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"What the hell are sugar-plums?"