(And yes, the name Abigail is from the Taylor Swift song about being Fifteen.)
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As Brennan entered her bedroom, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Her husband was standing next to the bed, taking off his watch. He dropped it on the nightstand and walked over to Brennan, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as she pulled her nightclothes from the drawers.
He kissed her neck, inhaling her scent. They had been married almost two decades now and he still couldn't hide his love for her. Angela said it was adorable and every little girl's dream, but Brennan still wouldn't let him kiss her in public. She called it unprofessional, said they couldn't show their affection lest their work relationship be tainted. Booth just thought she was a tease.
She'd been driving him crazy, but the squints hadn't given them a moment alone all day. He longed to kiss away the wrinkle in her forehead as she poured over the remains, but he had just sat and watched. All he wanted to do was ravish her that instant, but she didn't react as he kissed her.
"What's the matter, Bones?"
"Our daughter." She turned to face him, her hands splayed on his chest. He shivered under the touch. "It seems I was right that you would be a perfect breeder."
"Well, you know," Booth puffed out his chest proudly. "The boys and I do good work." He bumped his pelvis against her gently, as if to show her that his "boys" were willing to get to work again that night. She shot him a look, and he became serious. "What's wrong with Abby?"
"She's fifteen, that's what's wrong." Brennan laughed. "Seems to be the unlucky number for the Brennan girls."
"Bones, don't even joke about that. We're not going to die. And if- God forbid - that were to happen, Parker would take care of Abbs. He loves her."
"Are you implying Russ didn't love me?" Brennan pulled away slightly, but Booth's strong arms held her in place.
"Of course not, Bones. He just couldn't handle it and he panicked. He was eighteen. Parks is twenty-three. He'd be able to manage the responsibility." Booth kissed her forehead tenderly, and she relaxed in his arms, murmuring an apology. "You never said what was wrong with Abbs."
Brennan took her husband's hand and pulled him to the bed. "It's nothing, really. She's just a little hurt. A boy she's had an interest in doesn't like her, and she's worried it's because of her height. She shouldn't be ashamed of it. Historically, homo sapians with a taller stature lived longer lives because they were able to outrun enemies and obtain food from higher trees than their shorter counterparts."
"Bones, she's just had her heartbroken. I hope you didn't give her a lecture on how her height was good because it would let her beat up the other cavemen."
"Anthropologically, she has nothing to-"
"Bones. Let me go talk to her, okay? I'll be back." He kissed her nose this time. "And maybe when I get back we can do a little experiment. We should really see if our genes were that suited that our daughter is a perfect specimen, or if it was just a one time occurrence."
"What? " Brennan asked, distracted. "Booth, the only way to judge that would be to- oh." She dropped the flannel pajamas back into the draw and dug around, searching for something smaller, silkier. "Of course. I'll just set up the lab for the experiment."
Booth nodded and turned, padding down the hallway. He knocked on the doorframe and peeked inside. His daughter was stretched diagonally across her bed, laptop in front of her.
"Hey Abba. You okay?" He watched her carefully as she shut the computer and turned to face him with red eyes. "Oh, Princess. Come here." He held out his arms for her, and Abigail eagerly accepted the hug, burying her face into her father's chest.
"Shh, Princess. He doesn't know what he's missing." Booth whispered into her hair. "He doesn't know what he's missing."
A few minutes later, Abigail's tears had stopped and she sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at her father.
"I'm just too tall. Boys never like me. They don't want to date somebody who is six feet tall." She said, more to herself than to Booth. His heart broke for his little girl as he watched her.
"No, Princess. That's not it. It's not your height." She turned to face him, clearly frustrated.
"Oh, so now it's because I'm ugly?"
Booth ran a hand through his hair, much as his wife had done earlier. "Princess, have I ever told you why it took me so long to make a move on your mother?"
Abigail froze. It was common knowledge that her dad and her mom had taken years to get together. It was one of Aunt Angela's favorite stories to tell. But Booth rarely talked about it, simply saying that they had finally acted on their feelings and that was all that mattered.
Booth sensed her curiosity and sat next to her on the bed. "You can never tell another soul this. You promise?"
"Course, Dad. I promise." She tore her eyes from her toes as she said this, making eye contact with her father. Booth marveled at her beautiful brown eyes that promised him loyalty.
"She scared the hell out of me." He whispered to his daughter. She looked confused, and so he elaborated. "She was perfect in every way. She was smart, beautiful, funny, sweet " He trailed off, not wanting to go into too much detail in front of his teenage daughter. "She had everything. She was rich and had plenty of men in her life. What did she need me for?"
Abigail smiled a little, but didn't really understand. "What's that got to do with me being too tall?"
"Absolutely nothing. Your mother was perfect, so I was too scared to give her my heart. I didn't care how tall she was. I just fell head over heels in love with her and was too scared to act on it." He smiled at his daughter. "And that's what's happened to you, Princess. You're too perfect for all the guys. And that's okay with me. Someday, one will realize what a catch you are and come a'knocking. That's when I'll scare him off with my big FBI gun."
She rolled her eyes at him and groaned. "I'm gonna go to bed now, Dad." She moved her computer to her desk and turned towards the dresser. Booth watched her for a moment before turning to leave the room.
"You're still my Princess, you know. Even when you knock some guy off his feet and he realizes what all the others have been missing. I don't care if they're scared of my gun, your brains, your beauty, or your brothers. Eventually one of them will come to his senses. You're my Princess and you always will be, even after you find your prince."
She crossed the room in a few short strides and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly. "I love you, Daddy."
"Love you too, Squirt. But according to your mother, your height does mean you'll live long enough to give me some grandchildren." Abigail reached for her pillow, but by the time she had launched it across the room, he had returned to his bedroom where his wife lay waiting.
"Now, about that experiment "