Author's Note: Even though Bones is finished and Vincent is long long gone, my love for Bones has totally re-surfaced as I've been home from college. Nearly a dEcAdE ago on Tumblr, I was one of the "founding fathers" of vimille (Vincent/Camille) in the Bones community along with a few other amazing and sweet fangirls. I often thought about an AU kinda thing where Cam and Vincent are madly in love and have a baby; I just thought that Cam would be adorable pregnant and that Vincent would be such a doting dad-to-be. Yes, weird, but my friends were totally into it and it was such a fun time in my life and the ship still holds a place in my heart. /3 This fic is half AU, half in the canon taking place in Season 6 during The Hole in the Heart, though some of the details of that episode probably aren't included since I can't bear to re-watch that episode yet. Enjoy.~~
"You know, Vincent, you really didn't have to go out of your way and actually cook something." Cam said over the small wooden table in Vincent's cramped kitchen. He had invited her over for a "romantic tryst of culinary refinement" and was pressed on concocting a legitimate meal.
Vincent was sitting on his haunches in front of the stove, waiting on his casserole. "Well, I was surely not going to invite you to come eat unromantic, sad Chinese food. This casserole will positively dazzle you, I promise."
Cam playfully rolled her eyes. She had quickly understood how hard he tried to impress her, in and out of the lab. He wasn't totally inept, she knew that, even though it had taken her and Brennan awhile to realize it. It was endearing, really, how hard he tried compared to the other men she had dated and one also couldn't deny how adorable he managed to look with his furrowed brow, eyes locked with the casserole as if it were a daunting puzzle to be reckoned with.
While he waited breathlessly on the food, Cam took the opportunity to fully survey his apartment. Whenever she would come over, she'd often avoid doing so fearing that she'd be fraught with guilt over how little the Jeffersonian allotted to their grad students. He shared it with an archeology grad student named Rick who from what Cam could gather, left a very light tread in the apartment. She had seen him a grand total of once when she had come over to "review Vincent's dissertation" and he had walked in on them kissing, leaving Cam mortified. That was one of the hurdles that she thought she would never have to deal with again once she got older—roommates. There was also the cheap, mostly plastic kitchen, hearing about schoolwork and studying, and of course the ever-famous dependence on ramen noodles. Yes, this relationship had made Cam confront a few uncomfortable things. She was never one to be ashamed of her age-outside of the "normal" societal shame of a woman's age-but spending time with Vincent definitely made her a bit more considerate of it. Naturally, he reassured her that he never considered her age as well as citing anthropological evidence about respective societies and their naturalized definitions of the "acceptable age gap."
Such an issue would be a great thing to discuss with Brennan and Angela, her fellow over-thirty-in-arms, but of course she couldn't. Right off the bat, Cam refused to allow Vincent to tell anyone about their relationship, even when it hadn't gone past getting drinks. Being a woman of color in her position of authority was already difficult, but being a woman of color who was also shtuping an intern would be a completely different calamity. Admittedly, she did worry if he took that as resistance of the relationship, but she had been too nervous to even think about how to start that conversation.
"Ah, viola!" Vincent swiftly took the food out of the oven and divided some of it up on two plates. He proudly placed one in front of Cam as he took a seat beside her. She poured him and herself a glass of wine, wine that she had ultimately bought herself to relieve some of her guilt. "So how is the dissertation actually going?" She asked.
He took a generous sip of the wine. "Did you know that Harvard has the largest academic library in the world with 15.8 million volumes?"
"I take it you're stuck?" She prodded.
"Technically, Cam, since Dr. Brennan is my advisor she is the only one who must contend with my dissertation." He quickly finished the glass, making a face as it went down. "When it's eventually finished and polished to perfection then you may be able to hear about it."
"Ah, key word: eventually. I don't have to be your advisor to tell you that the sooner you start working on it the better." She took a fork-full of the casserole. "And you'd be appreciative of any attention or comments a peer would be willing offer."
"Oh, I am quiteeeee appreciative of your attention." He drew out the "e" sound and leaned in for a kiss, clearly becoming slightly intoxicated. She returned a soft peck, but pulled the wine away from him so as not to completely push him off the edge of sobriety.
Vincent made a willful face at her denial, though he eventually became equally fixated on his casserole. "How is Michelle doing?" He asked.
Cam sighed, her dishevelment showing. "Actually, this week she had been driving me to allow her to go on a ski trip with some friends from school. Obviously, I don't particularly want her to go since I don't know any of the kids she's going with, but I felt obligated to considering she's been at home alone a lot with the Broadsky case going on." She dug into the casserole too; when she let herself actually taste it, she realized it wasn't all that bad.
"Oh yes, the classic parental dichotomy between restraint and allowance."
On second thought, maybe the casserole was much worse than she gave him credit for as she had a strong urge to vomit. She abruptly stood up from the table and fled to the restroom, covering her mouth. Kneeling over the toilet she gracelessly upchucked the casserole and even parts of her lunch. After giving herself a chance to rest, she peeled herself off of the floor and rinsed her face in the sink.
Well, explaining her body's immediate rejection of her doe-eyed boyfriend's cooking would certainly be fun. But on one hand, how much could Vincent truly mess up a simple casserole? He was well on his way to obtaining a doctorate, after all. Furthermore, Cam truly prided herself on her iron stomach since her occupation practically demanded it.
A certain thought was trying to finagle its way into her head, a thought she had disregarded years ago. No, it was stupid. Yes, completely ridiculous. She was nearly 40 now, and as her gynecologist so eloquently described: her fertility "was as far gone as Jimmy Hoffa." Embarrassingly, she also had not exactly been practicing what she preached to Michelle about the importance of protection. She did remember asking her gynecologist about the pill or implant, but she simply scoffed at the request. Cam made a mental note to change doctors.
"Are you alright?" Vincent asked when she eventually immerged from the bathroom.
"Oh, yes, I'll be okay. My stomach is just a bit-urm- sensitive today that's all." She sat down at the table, attempting to throw that nagging thought out of her head before she said anything incriminating. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, "I know what's wrong," he said. Cam's eyes went wide.
"It was too dry! And I think I added too much salt, I should be more careful next time."
"Oh," She made a worried face and grabbed his hand. "No, that's not it at all. I admire that you were so jung-ho to make me dinner, and it's just that none of us are feeling like ourselves with this stressful case." Leaning in, she gave him a reserved yet reassuring kiss. "I loved dinner."
Vincent held her face close to his as he rubbed her hand. "I…" He swallowed. "The Trobrianders of Papua New Guinea use yams to assert not only wealth, but proximity to chiefdom and sexual dominance."
The sudden mood shift triggered an embarrassing, partial snort laugh to come from Cam. "Yes, Vincent, I took introductory anthropology as well."
They both laughed, still sitting close. He continued to hold her eyes, taking in their pearlescent, chestnut color. She kissed the warming smile on his face and allowed the kiss to deepen.
Vincent shoved the plates aside, fully taking her into his lanky arms. He pulled her towards his room, away from the kitchen. "What about your casserole?" She laughed at his refreshing enthusiasm even though she had quite recently vomited in his bathroom.
"Oh, I'm sure Rick would be more than happy to take care of it." Winning her over with his boyish smile, framed by his dazzling eyes, he whisked her into his arms.
Author's Note: Dissertations, gynecology, oh my! I haven't written creatively, let alone a fanfic, in so long pls be nice.