A/N: So this is my last minute entry for the CBPC. Poetry is definitely not my forte, since I like to ramble too much, but, hey, who am I to refuse a challenge? Rated K.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or the original poem.

'Twas early one morning, when Booth's vehicle did park

Outside Brennan's building, in the cold winter dark.

The doctor herself was upstairs, fast asleep,

Snoring away after counting requisite sheep;

Safe in her covers, she did not have a clue

About Booth's presence there, or what he would do;

In her bed, she dreamt not of cabbages and kings,

But of femurs and ribs and other such things.

While even in her sleep, Brennan earned the name 'Bones',

Booth opened the car door to a chorus of groans;

The icy cold wind swept straight through the back seat,

And the squints promptly lost feeling in their feet.

With a primal growl and a murderous glare,

Angela climbed from the car, still with bed hair.

Roused by her movement, Hodgins woke with surprise,

Wiping drool from his mouth and the sleep from his eyes.

Seeing they had arrived at their destination,

He looked over at Zach in contemplation;

He gave him a poke and Zach gave him a yawn,

(Understandably, since it was still not yet dawn.)

With some reluctance, he emerged from the warm car,

And scurried to the building, which seemed strangely far.

Booth joined them in moments, with four bags in his hand,

Which he distributed to the sleepy band.

Gesturing for silence, he led them to her door,

And upstairs they crept, a stealthy party of four.

Once there, Booth turned to Angela for the key,

Which she'd left back at home so she mouthed a "Sorry".

Rolling his eyes and muttering a quick curse,

He rummaged through the contents of her full purse.

After finding a hair grip, he knelt on the floor,

And four black ops moves later, he opened the door.

Like large, sneaky mice, they slowly tiptoed inside,

Instantly scanning the room for places to hide.

Firstly, though, they had decorating to do;

Zach hung up some streamers, colored pink, white and blue;

Angela draped a sign reading, "Happy Birthday!",

Noting that Booth's driving had squished it on the way;

So that he could inform them, should she awake,

Hodgins listened at the door, for everyone's sake;

Booth's task was to fill the bright balloons with air,

And he sat and inflated each slowly with care.

So focused was he on the task he'd been assigned,

He was taken aback when Zach called from behind;

In his surprise, the balloon broke free from his grip,

And proceeded to fly round the room with a zip...

Helplessly, the squints only watched it with dread,

While Booth gave Zach an annoyed cuff round the head.

After a painful wait, it dropped to the floor,

But before they could speak, Brennan opened her door.

"Happy thirtieth?" Booth ventured, flushed with shame,

And as Brennan stared at them, the rest said the same.

Blinking sleepily, she looked, intrigued, round her place,

And the decorations brought a small smile to her face.

But she shook her head slightly, seeing what they'd done.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm thirty-one."