AN: Many thanks to dangeli for her SUPER quick beta and awesome support. This is just a quick one-shot I wrote last night. I would love to hear from you all about this.

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself plainly when you have need of him."

Her voice was soft and even, and while one hand held the book open in front of them both, the other stroked his blonde hair away from his clammy forehead.

Parker was about as relaxed as he could get, nestled into her chest, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He felt his eyes flutter again, as they had for the past few moments and he finally sighed and gave in. He could nap until his dad got home. Bones would wake him.

Brennan smiled softly, feeling the body on her lap gently relax as sleep overtook it. He had been such a good boy, despite bouts of vomiting and chills. She remembered being sick when she was his age and she certainly didn't remember being as polite – she had certainly been whiny and demanding. Parker, on the other hand, had merely wanted to cuddle in front of a book or movie. He truly was a good kid.

She ducked her head and placed a tender kiss to his head, closing her eyes and enjoying the closeness.

The sound of the key turning in the lock brought a small smile to her face and she turned her head towards the door, but kept her cheek resting on Parker's head. It was comfortable to snuggle with the child and, for the first time in a while, Temperance found herself momentarily reevaluating her desire to have children.

"Hey," Booth's voice broke the silence and her eyes fluttered open, meeting his worried gaze.

"He's fine," she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm so sorry," Booth replied. He put his keys in the basket on the entry-table and then moved towards them, kneeling next to the sofa and running his hands ever-so-gently across Parker's forehead.

"It's perfectly fine," she replied, shifting slightly and allowing him easier access to his son. "He was no trouble."

"You shouldn't have had to get him from school."

"Its fine, Booth," she said, her voice as reassuring as possible. "It was a slow day at the lab. Really – he wasn't a bother. I rather enjoyed spending the day with him. I just wish he was feeling better to enjoy it, too."

"The trial ran longer than I thought," Booth offered, by way of explanation for not being able to leave work earlier.

"I know," she nodded. "Rebecca called. She couldn't get away, either. She's the one who asked that I go get him."

Booth felt the corner of his mouth curl into a small smile. "I told you she liked you."

"I believe she tolerates me, not that she likes me," Brennan corrected before clearing her throat. "He's had a mild fever most of the day. I gave him some ibuprofen as Cam suggested and his fever broke about thirty minutes ago. He's had lots of gingerale and some chicken soup."

"Poor guy," Booth said, shaking his head while his hand tenderly stroked his son's forehead. "I see he convinced you to read that to him?"

"There was little convincing to do. I've been interested in the series and was glad for the opportunity to read some of it. I enjoyed reading with him, Booth; he's very bright," she paused and looked up at him. "I believe he gets that from his father."

Booth met her gaze and allowed a silent beat to pass between them before he cleared his throat.

"I should get him home and into bed," he said, tugging the blanket closer around Parker.

"He just fell asleep before you walked in. It may be wise to let him rest for a while longer."

Booth nodded and stood. He sighed, taking in the sight before him. His best friend -the woman he cared about much more than he was supposed to- half-lay stretched along her couch, his son curled against her as much as his growing frame would allow.

He smiled at her. "Next time I'm sick with the flu, I'm letting you take care of me if this is the kind of treatment we Booth-men get. Soup, gingerale, crackers, good books, and snuggled under a blanket with a beautiful woman," he winked quickly and watched the gentle blush settle over her cheeks.

"Booth-" she sighed a half-hearted castigation. Brennan watched as he stooped, quickly making work of the trash that had gathered on the coffee table after a long day of tending to a sick child. Tissues, cups of gingerale, a bowl of soup, and a sleeve of saltine crackers had littered the surface, but she had paid it little mind. Knowing the boy in her lap was content and feeling moderately better was much more important than her desire to have a tidy home.

He retreated into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher, starting the appliance with quick fingers. He moved through her house as if he lived there and the notion that it should be odd to be this comfortable with your 'work-partner' was quickly shoved from his mind.

He liked their friendship as it was.

He liked how close they were with each other.

He liked that he trusted her to take care of his sick child as if she were Parker's own mother. His momentary doubt when hearing that Rebecca was unable to get Parker from school had little to do with her ability to care for Parker, and more to do with the imposition- he wasn't her son.

He wasn't her responsibility.

Yet Brennan had dropped everything, and rushed to Parker's school, stopping only to buy the 'sick child staples' as she remembered them from her childhood: crackers, gingerale and chicken soup.

According to Angela's hurried phone call that afternoon, Brennan was less nervous about caring for Parker and more nervous about Booth being upset that she was on Rebecca's 'in case of emergency' form.

Booth looked up across the apartment and watched the two most important people in his life snuggled on the sofa.

He chuckled to himself. As if he'd care that Parker and Rebecca considered Brennan family enough to be included on a medical form. God knew she was on every one of his medical forms, his 401K, his life insurance. It wasn't as if she needed the money from his policy, but he trusted her to invest it correctly for Parker's future.

The light knock on the door startled him from his reflective musings and he headed to the door with only a quick backwards glance at the duo on the couch. He caught sight of Brennan pulling the blanket back up around Parker and rubbing a soothing hand through his hair as he shifted in his sleep.

"Hey, Seeley," Rebecca said, looking a bit chagrinned when he opened the door. "Is Parker feeling any better?"

Booth nodded. "His fever broke a little bit ago and now he's resting," he pulled the door open the rest of the way and allowed Rebecca to enter. He watched his ex's face as she took in the sight before her – her son curled up in the arms of another woman.

A lesser mother would have shown instant jealousy. A lesser woman would have done all she could to wake her child and hurry him home, staking claim to the child's love.

But Rebecca merely smiled at the peaceful look on Parker's face, content to know that the boy had enough love for them all, and peaceful in the knowledge that he had been in great hands all day. "Tempe, I can't thank you enough. If there's every anything I can do-"

"Don't be silly," Brennan replied quickly, her voice hushed in deference to the child asleep on her chest. "We had a lovely time, despite his illness. I was happy to help."

Rebecca shook her head and ran a motherly hand across Parker's forehead, the boy stirring under his mother's touch.

"Mom?" he said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hey sweetie. You ready to go home?"

"No," Parker groaned, nesting deeper into the warmth of his cocoon on the couch.

Brennan grinned. "He just fell asleep a bit ago," she supplied. When Rebecca nodded in understanding, Brennan continued. "We've gone through quite a bit of gingerale and crackers and, when his stomach is cooperative, chicken-soup. I believe he may like to have more for dinner tonight."

The blonde woman nodded in agreement. "Sounds like the perfect thing for the flu. Are you sure you don't have children, Tempe? You're a natural, I think."

Brennan felt her cheeks heat with a faint blush and she met Booth's gaze as she looked over Rebecca and Parkers' heads. She saw his knowing smile and found solace in the quiet understanding.

Rebecca continued when no reply came. "We'll stop for groceries on the way home."

Brennan frowned. "You know there's a market up the street," she supplied. "If you'd like to leave Parker here for a few more minutes while you go get what you need, that would be just fine. It seems much more logical than making him get in and out of the car several times when he's not feeling well."

Rebecca looked up, surprised by Brennan's generosity. "Are you sure? You've been stuck with him all day."

"I don't mind, really. I enjoy my time with Parker, even if he isn't feeling his best. Please, go and do what you need to. By the time you get back, he'll be awake and dressed and ready to head home."

"Wow. Well, thank you. I'll just run down and grab the sick-kid essentials." She tucked blonde locks behind her ear and turned, finding a smiling Seeley standing near the door.

He followed her into the hall and watched as she pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck before heading back out to brave the winter-weather.

"She picks our son up from school and cares for him as if he's her own and now, instead of taking the opportunity to pawn a sick kid off on his mother and call it a day, she's offering to keep him a while longer and give me extra time to go grocery shopping?" Rebecca snorted. "I think she's up for sainthood."

"Except she's not Catholic."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Don't mess this up, Seeley. That woman is the best you could hope for."

"There's nothing to mess up, Rebecca," he replied.

She merely stared at him, the glare relenting only when he finally caved with a knowing and abashed look on his face.

"I wish there was something to mess up, Becca," His voice was hushed. "But there's not. And, I'd rather have nothing to mess up than not have her at all."

Rebecca grinned and reached out, covering his upper arm with her small hand. She squeezed. "There is something there to mess up. Believe me."

Booth just raised a doubtful eyebrow her way and watched as she headed out of the building to get the sick-kid-essentials from the market.

He headed back into the apartment, smiling as he saw her continuing to comb her fingers through Parker's hair, her eyes closed, obviously in contemplation.

"She's right," he said softly. "You do look like a natural."

"Perhaps that's just because I have so many years of experience caring for Booth-men," was her soft reply.

Excerpt from Harry Potter - written/owned by JK Rowling.