A/N: -Waves- This is just a cute one shot that came to me when I was in the car the other day and the song Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield came on. Now, being the obsessed freak that I am, I quickly came upon the realization that if one were to replace all the "Jessie's," with "Sully's," and then pictured Booth singing it, you had one heck of a mental image going for ya...-Wink, wink- Anywho, I thought it would be cute to compose a story from Booth's point-of-view while he listens to the song. Sully didn't bother me that much, but I think we all kinda wanted him gone. Booth included.
Summary: Ever hear the song Jessie's Girl? Booth lets his mind wander a bit when he hears that same song on the radio. (Let's assume that this is before Sully goes away on that god forsaken boat of his...)
Rating: T for suggestive themes and mild language
Genre: Humor/Romance
Disclaimer: Bones, Ovaltine, and the song Jessie's Girl are not mine.
-Sully's Girl-
I speed down the highway, flipping through the radio stations. My thumb's flexed in an awkward position: curved like a moon, pressed firmly to the buttons lining my car radio. My relentless efforts to avoid the aggravation of advertisements fall flat when the shrieking sound of overenthusiastic kids fills my SUV: "More Ovaltine, Please!"
I grunt inwardly. Can't they at least afford to hire some real actors? You know, the kind that don't suck? Their acting is less than second-rate. No kid gets that excited over mass-produced, brownish-grayish, powdery stuff that bears a striking resemblance to fish food.
After a brief weather report, a monotone voice comes on the air, babbling about something unimportant. Maybe it's traffic, maybe it's something about Lindsay Lohan again…I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't want to know. I'm too distracted to care. And then it comes on. A few chords of guitar flood from the speakers, and my heart nearly skips a beat. Poor little thing.
Jessie is a friend, yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine
But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define
Jessie's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine
I begin to feel a little hot under the collar. Those words…God, those words! Sheer coincidence, I'm sure. If I simply try to ignore the fact that I have a good friend (Sully) who has lately been having a rather exclusive—fling—going on with a woman that I want to make mine (Bones), I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine. But it sure as hell doesn't help that Sully and Jessie both have two syllables. Come on! There's only so much coincidence that a man can take!
And she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it
And 'n' he's holding her in his arms late, late at night
A shiver runs up my spine. Damn Bones's blue eyes, always on that lousy, good for nothing scoundrel! And the good Lord knows that they sleep together…Lots of times…On many occasions. She would say they were merely fulfilling biological urges. Biological urges my ass. However you want to put it, it's no secret. But does this stupid song have to remind me that Bones—my Bones—is in the arms of another man practically every night of the week?
My thoughts are interrupted with obnoxious blares of a nearby car horn. I swerve and curse under my breath.
"What is this woman doing to me?" I mutter under my breath. I can't even listen to a damn song without letting my mind wander!
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman like that
No matter how much I deny it, I know that I have it bad. I know that I want Sully's girl. Heck, I've wanted her for longer than I'd like to admit. If I had the time, I'd wish on every damned star that I had Sully's girl. You want to know where you can find a woman like that? Well, I'll tell ya, Rick, there's only one of her kind. You can't find another like her: silky auburn locks, alluring blue eyes, a brain the size of Alaska. She's taken. The perfect girl is taken.
I play along with the charade, there doesn't seem to be a reason to change
You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute
I wanna to tell her that I love her but the point is prob'ly moot
Yeah, the whole cutesy, boy-friend-y-girl-friend-y thing is so not Bones. It makes me sick to my stomach. And confess my love to her? Moot is the understatement of the year. She'd take the nearest sharp object and throw it straight at me. Well, okay, maybe that's a bit drastic, but whatever would go down would not be pretty. I want to tell her I'm in love with her, but there's a thin line between wanting and doing. Damn me and my stupid lines…
'Cos she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it
And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night
Okay, buddy, is it really necessary to remind me that she's sleeping with another man for the second time? We all know it. I don't need to be constantly reminded with this redundant song of yours.
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's Girl
I wish that I had Jessie's Girl
Where can I find a woman like that
Like Jessie's girl, I wish that I had Jessie's Girl
Where can I find a woman
Where can I find a woman like that
I'll come right out and say it: there's no woman like her. She's uniquely Bones. I melt at the sight of her pouting when she doesn't get her way. I grow weak in the knees when we exchange our casual banter. I feel my eyes well up when she suffers the effects of her broken family. I want nothing to more than to make her—just her—happy. Genuinely happy. Of course, that's easier said than done; the woman's as stubborn as a mule.
And I'm lookin' in the mirror all the time, wondering what she don't see in me
I've been funny, I've been cool with the lines
Ain't that the way love's supposed to be
Tell me, where can I find a woman like that
Okay, who's the genius that wrote this ditty? Love is supposed to be that way, but that doesn't mean it'll work out like that. I mean, I consider myself to be funny. I'm smooth when it comes to sarcasm. I check my hair in the mirror before heading off to the lab to see her. I'm damn handsome. And apparently arrogant, too. So what's not to like? What doesn't she see in me? What don't you see in me, Bones?
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I want Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman like that
Like Jessie's girl
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I want, want Jessie's girl
The lyrics begin to fade as I veer left. I wish that I had Sully's girl. I want Sully's girl. But wants and wishes don't necessarily amount to much. Where can you find a woman like that, you ask? At the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab in Washington D.C. She'll be the one wearing a blue lab coat, hunched over a pile of dead bones, barking orders left and right. She'll be the one with that sly smile and bemused expression. She'll be the one I can't have.
That's all folks...now, it would make my day if you were to click on that little blueish button down there and drop a review...:o)
-Susan