Characters: Brennan, Booth
Word count: 667
Notes: Booth gets Bones to take a break...in the snow. (B/B friendship vignette)
"The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things." ~ Henry Ward Beecher
Temperance glanced up from the World War I remains she was examining to find Booth jogging up the steps toward her. The long, black, wool coat he wore flapped open. "Is there a new case?"
"Nah, it's my day off."
"So why are you here?"
"Snow, Bones. Five inches of fresh powder." He grinned and clapped his hands with glee.
"Aww, come on."
"Whining will get you nowhere, Booth," she scolded. "Take Parker."
"Can't; he's out of town with Rebecca. Besides, you need a break. A couple snowballs should do the trick." He angled his head toward the table. "Unless John Doe's planning to get up and walk away while you're out."
She shot him a quelling look but relented after taking in his cold-reddened cheeks and dancing eyes. "Ten minutes."
Sunlight reflected off the snow-covered lawn, temporarily blinding her. Thwack. She gasped as the snowball smacked into her neck. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and spotted Booth approximately 15 feet to her right. From the looks of it, he was rapidly rearming. Time was of the essence. She scooped some snow and packed it into a ball, shaping it with her gloved hands. Booth launched his next weapon. Temperance twisted to the left, centered herself, and fired off her own shot -- hitting Booth squarely in the face.
Her partner groaned, tottered a few steps and then fell to the ground. Elated by the direct hit, she jogged toward Booth, intent on rubbing it in.
"Please tell me that isn't the best a former Ranger sniper can do."
Booth remained silent and still, sprawled on his back in the snow.
"You can compliment my perfect aim now," she said with a smirk, hands braced on her hips.
Still no response.
She huffed and nudged him with her boot. When that didn't elicit a response, she frowned. Surely she hadn't hit him that hard. Temperance started to lean down to check his pulse, when Booth's hand flashed upward to the loose ends of her scarf and yanked downward. She went down hard, landing on top of Booth with a yelp.
Ignoring Booth's chortle, Temperance slowly levered herself up into sitting position, wondering why she had never before noticed what a big man her partner was. She brushed off the snow that coated her face from the fall and made as if to stand. "Ouch." Once up, she took several mincing steps, favoring her right ankle.
Booth was at her side immediately, his forehead creased with concern and remorse. "Hey, sorry, Bones."
"I think it's my ankle," she replied with a grimace.
"It hurts, huh?"
She bit her lip and nodded.
"Let me take a look," Booth said, voice soft.
As he knelt, clearly intending to examine her foot, Temperance raised that same foot and planted it against his chest. One shove and Booth was once again on his back in the snow. Only this time Temperance followed him down of her own volition, grabbing handfuls of snow that she took great pleasure in shoving down his neck and shirt. Laughter interspersed with howls of outrage filled the air.
She knew the element of surprise was the only advantage she had at the moment, and it wouldn't last long. So she made the most of what little time she had, shoving more snow down his shirt before smushing a handful in his face.
Eventually Booth recovered enough to catch both her wrists. Summoning up as much dignity as she could, given that she was straddling her partner and trying very hard to ignore that fact, Temperance gave a haughty sniff. "Revenge is a dish best served cold."
She caught her breath as she watched Booth smile in response. It was a smile that dawned at his lips and set at his eyes.
"Duly noted. How about some snow angels?"
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