Work Text:
“Okay, okay, everyone, I understand that we’re all excited but we really should stay on schedule!” Brennan demands, Christine being the one to imitate her father by stinging her mother’s wine glass with her fork, presumably to help quiet the party. Christine, of all kids, definitely thought things through enough to be doing that on purpose.
Angela clears her throat, rising slowly and dramatically - though, probably not on purpose - from the other offshoot of the table, holding her wine glass which is very clearly filled with ginger ale (but sporting an umbrella, because Angela was Angela) and pretends to bow to the absent audience.
“Cam. Oh, Cam. What to say about Cam…”
Cam chuckles, leaning her head into the hand of hers next to Arastoo’s shoulder.
“It’s a rehearsal dinner, Angela, not my funeral.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to wax poetic about how much we all love you.”
“Those are definitely not the words that I used.”
“Well, those are the words that I heard.”
Cam groans lightly. Probably should’ve seen something like this coming. It is Angela, after all. Full of love.
“Well, Auntie Angela, you could talk about how intelligent and thoughtful and funny she is,” Christine chimes - and oh, there goes Cam’s heart. Should’ve brought tissues, too.
Angela had.
“Oh, and like Hodgins says, she takes no shit.”
“Christine!” Booth reprimands.
“What? I’m just quoting.”
“Hodgins, did you curse around my kid?”
“No, I -"
“It was essentially an accident, Daddy. Michael and Henry and I were in the kitchen getting a snack. I don’t think Auntie Angela or Uncle Hodgins knew we were there - they were working on something in the living room.”
Booth looks back at Hodgins, pointing a finger: “you still cursed in front of my kid.”
“Seeley,” Cam interrupts. “Your kid is still a genius who by now may well know more words than most of us do.”
The room pauses, a collective nod following in turn.
“She has a good point,” Brennan agrees, and Booth pretend to roll his eyes, but sits back in his chair with a smile.
“Hey, and Camille, what did I say about calling me Seeley?”
“My wedding, my rules. And if you call me Camille one more time tonight, I will only call you Seeley for the entire three weeks before we leave for our honeymoon.”
“Dammit.”
“Daddy!”
Booth laughs at himself and ruffles Christine’s hair, and everyone laughs in good humor.
“Hey, Christine, do you want to do a toast?” Arastoo poses, leaning over to the table to see her clearly.
She takes a moment to consider it, and everyone knows that a gentle retort is on its way.
“Can I have wine?”
“No,” Brennan and Booth declare in unison.
“I figured as much, but yes, I’d love to.”