Title: And the Center will Hold
Spoilers: Up to early Season 3
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, there would be a shirtless David Boreanaz in every ep. Seriously. Every one.
A/N: There is a plot to this, but not really a case. There is a case, but only because it's their job to have cases, and the best part of these characters is watching them do their jobs. And in course of doing their jobs, there are moments between these characters that make me love them. So this is more a collection of those moments, in the context of doing their jobs. Leading to where we all want to see them go, of course.
"So she was pissed that you didn't stop Zack from going to Iraq? Not the whole 'you put her dad in the federal pen' thing?" Cam looked at him incredulously over the beer bottle as she took a quick swig.
"Seriously. I couldn't believe it either. She said I should have stopped him, that I was encouraging some sort of 'alpha-male rite of passage'". Booth just shook his head as he took back his beer from Cam.
"You know, I really thought that was the reason. The fact that she wouldn't pick a replacement and was doing all the lab work herself seemed like pretty good evidence to me that she was mad about her dad. Not to mention the fact that it got like ten below in there every time you walked in," she finished with a grin.
"Gee thanks. So nice of you to notice". His laugh was a short sarcastic bark.
Tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, Cam pursed her lips and considered him for a moment. "Well… I can sort of see where she's coming from. I mean, you could have stopped him you know".
"What? Cam – c'mon, get real here. You can't seriously agree with her," he sputtered, setting his bottle down harder than he intended. "Zack… he's not a kid. I'm not in charge of him too".
"Like you're in charge of her?" she snorted. "Booth, I'm her boss and I'm not in charge of her". When he started to interrupt, she held up a hand and said, "No, let me finish. I said I can see where she's coming from because she has a protective streak when it comes to Zack. She expects you to share that protectiveness, that's all. I'm not saying I think you should have tried to stop him – I'm just saying that he really looks up to you and would have listened to you if you insisted he stay".
At his still skeptical look, she just smiled widely and continued.
"But you two are cool now right? I don't need to insist she go out in the field again with you?"
"Yeah, we're cool. She just needed to punish me for a few months about the Zack-thing I guess," he shook his head and dug into his fries.
Tapping her cheek with her index finger, Cam surveyed him for a moment, opening and closing her mouth twice, debating on whether she should say what she was thinking. Her natural candor finally won out.
"You were scared".
"Whu?" he asked through a mouthful of fries.
"You were scared," she repeated, pointing the index finger at him this time. "You thought she was mad enough to end your relationship, make this 'partnership' strictly professional," her eyes widening as she agreed with the truth of her own words.
"Bullshit Cam," he gestured back with a fry. "I was not scared, just, you know, concerned. I was concerned that we wouldn't be able to be an effective team anymore, if she was carrying some sort of grudge against me for putting her old man in jail. And what the hell do you mean our partnership isn't 'strictly professional'?" Now Booth jabbed a finger in her direction.
"Don't get all worked up, I just meant that you could easily do your job and she could do hers independently of each other, without all the 'symbiosis' as you put it. Being partners in the field is your choice.She doesn't have to leave the lab to help you catch the bad guys, and you certainly don't have to come by the Jeffersonian several times a week to get her expertise. You could easily get what you need over the phone or by email, and-"
Booth held a hand up to interrupt her as he pulled his ringing phone from his pocket.
"Booth. Yes sir, I'm in town. No, not a bar, I'm at the diner. Two beers. On my way sir," he flipped the phone closed and stood.
"Duty calls?"
"Yeah, that was Cullen. He just got back from vacation and found out he has a press conference at nine in the morning about the silver skeleton killer. Let's just say he's not thrilled. I'm going to go catch him up on everything so he can put together a statement,"
"Do you need me?"
"Nah… he said he's keeping the presser as short as possible. If he needs more details on the 'secret society', I'll give Hodgins a call. Anyway, Cam… thanks. You know, for everything," he said, throwing bills on the table and pulling on his jacket.
"You're a good friend too Seeley," she smiled as he hurried out the door, the bell clanging in his wake.
A conscientious lover, a loyal friend, a brilliant investigator – Seeley Booth was many things to many people. To Cam Saroyan he had been all three and more, and thankful she was for all of them. Having been down the romantic road with him, she was glad they had made a u-turn and put that behind them, getting their friendship back on track. Neither of their hearts had been in it, despite the fantastic sex, and that can turn a friendship bitter quickly, she mused, finishing the last of his beer. Whether he knew it or not, and she suspected he didn't, his heart was somewhere else entirely.
Sliding off her stool, she paid quickly and traced his footsteps out the door, smiling as the cool fall air ruffled her hair.
Frowning as he surveyed the lab platform, Booth shook his head as he looked at his watch. It was only a little after seven, two hours before most of his colleagues at the Hoover building would be at work, and there were the members of the "squint squad" hard at work. It bugged him for some reason, that Bones and her team were more dedicated than most men and women of the FBI.
"Bones", he called out as he swiped his card through the card reader, "We've got to get on the road, we've got a new case."
"Booth?" she looked up from where her head was bent next to Zack's, "What are you doing here so early?"
"For your information, I got a call from the Baltimore field office at four-thirty this morning, to see if I could get you up there ASAP to i.d. a body. Just because I normally don't show up at the Jeffersonian at the ass-crack of dawn like you people doesn't mean I'm not working before nine."
"Someone's grumpy from getting woken up by the phone this morning," Jack observed in a stage whisper, never taking his eyes away from his monitor.
"I was already awake, thank you very much," Booth answered testily.
"Ah…awake at four-thirty were you? Sounds promising," Angela mused from her perch on a stool next to Jack.
"In that case, I hope your reason for being awake at four-thirty this morning was a good as mine," Jack suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Booth then sending a wink in Angela's direction.
"Real funny guys. Who knew I was working with two Jerry Seinfelds. Bones, let's go." He swept his arm in the direction of her office, but her only response was to quirk an eyebrow at him.
Sliding down from the stool Angela stood a few feet from him and stroked her chin thoughtfully. "You know, I would have pictured Booth as more of an after- midnight roll in the sheets kind of guy, not the morning nooky type, don't you think Bren?"
Booth was thankful Bones didn't reply before he said, "Could you be a little more inappropriate Angela?" When she started to speak he held up a hand. "Don't answer that."
As though he hadn't spoken, Angela continued, "Although, he couldhave met someone new…someone that opened him up to new adventures…"
"That's enough Angela, I mean it." His hand on his hip, his no- nonsense poses. It was one he used mostly with suspects during interrogations, to subtly expose his weapon and badge and convince them he meant business. It had also come in handy several times at the lab.
Angela however, was unfazed. "I supposed I'll have to smell him and see."
"What?" Booth was joined by Hodgins and Zach both in his look of incredulity, as they all swiveled their heads in her direction.
"It's simple, really," she continued with a wave of her hand. "When Booth was with Tessa, I could smell her perfume on him every morning, gardenias with a hint of citrus. It was feminine with a clean, refreshing note".
"You could smell that?" Booth wasn't sure if he should be horrified or impressed.
"Sure. And any time you were with Rebecca I could always catch a hint of her perfume as well – something spicy, with a strong undernote of vanilla".
He was leaning towards horrified.
"Now Cam, that was a no-brainer, really". She glanced surreptitiously around the lab to make sure her boss wasn't in the vicinity. Not seeing the pathologist, her face split into a wide smile.
"Angela…" he growled. Both hands on his hips this time.
"Dr. Saroyan doesn't wear perfume. She told me the other day that certain scents give her migraines so she avoids it altogether," Zach added, pleased to contribute to the conversation. At Booth's glare, he quickly bent back over the table to resume his examination of the bones.
"Aveda rosemary mint shampoo, silly."
"A-what?" Booth couldn't stop himself from asking. It was like being unable to look away from a train wreck.
"Aveda. It's a line of salon products Cam uses. She mostly sticks with the Rosemary Mint. And it, my dear Agent Booth, stuck with you. So…" Angela closed the gap between them on the platform.
Booth felt a cold trickle of fear crawl down his spine. He wanted to take a step back but his legs didn't cooperate quick enough.
Before he could react, her nose was buried in the collar of his dress shirt, and he felt her quickly indrawn breath. Eyes closed, she backed away a few steps then looked up at him with a frown.
"American Crew aftershave, with a smidgen of Aqua di Gio by Armani. All Booth. Only Booth." Her pronounced disappointment at his apparent lack of morning companionship would have made him laugh under different circumstances.
"Hah! I was awake at four-thirty because Parker spent the night and had a nightmare around four, not that this is any of your business." He jabbed a finger at her pointedly, then rubbed a hand over his face with an exaggerated sigh. This was not the way he wanted to begin his work day.
"Explains the hint of pancake syrup …" he heard Angela say as she climbed back up on her stool.
"Bones! Let's go. The sooner we get done in Baltimore, the sooner we get back." Striding quickly to her place by the table, he grabbed her elbow and propelled her down the steps of the platform towards her office.
As they crossed the floor to her office, he hissed in her ear, "Thanks a lot back there. You could have chimed in any time."
"I don't know why you're so upset. I find Angela's ability fascinating."
"You knew?" He turned a mortified face to her as they walked through her door. She ignored the look as she shrugged out of her lab coat and into a light jacket. Grabbing her bag from its place by the door, she walked past him, pausing to say over her shoulder, "Of course I knew, Booth. Not about the details of your morning activities, but I was aware of Angela's precise sense of smell."
Booth took a small measure of comfort from the fact Angela hadn't shared her creepily accurate assessment of his morning intimacies with Bones until today. It was stomach-turning enough to hear Angela reveal his pre-dawn companions for all the squints to hear this morning but it would have been another level of sheer wretchedness to know she had clued Bones in on this before today.
"So all this time you knew she was some sort of olfactory savant, and didn't feel inclined to share that with me?"
"It didn't come up."
Booth decided to drop it at that. Not making a big deal out of this would keep her from knowing how much it freaked him out. What Angela had not said, but he had inferred with terrifying accuracy, was that if he and Bones ever acted on the omnipresent attraction between them, Angela would know immediately. Not that he had any plans to go there with Bones, mind you. Their friendship alone was a minefield he could barely navigate on a good day – a romantic relationship would be a gauntlet he knew he wouldn't get through safely. At least not with his heart intact. Nor his sanity.
"You've slept with her."
Driving the interstate south towards D.C. had thus far been quiet in the black suv. The sun was setting to his right, over Bones' shoulder, and Booth was actually enjoying the drive. Their trip to Baltimore had taken all day, but it didn't look as though they would have to return. The FBI crime scene unit would drop everything they had collected at the abandoned warehouse by the Jeffersonian, and then Brennan and the rest of the team would start on it in the morning. The lead investigator on the case was an old friend, and Booth accurately guessed this was the "her" he had supposedly slept with.
"Contrary to popular belief, Bones, I'm not some sort of man-whore. Agent Fletcher and I went through the academy together. We are old friends, that's all. Where do you come up with these ideas?"
"I can tell be the way you interacted, Booth. I'm not judging you, just making an observation. The number of previous sexual encounters you've experienced have no bearing on your value as a decent human being, in fact, frequent sexual contact with members of the opposite sex serve to increase your skills as an effective lover, therefore-"
"Enough, Bones! I don't need the anthropological explanation of why it's okay to sleep around. And what "interactions" did you see between Sam and I that led you to this conclusion?"
He wasn't sure why he was humoring her with this conversation. In general, he avoided the topic of sex if at all possible when she was around. She thought he was embarrassed, but in truth he just found it better to avoid dangerous territory. Talking about sex, with her, might lead to thoughts of sex, with her. Their last discussion about sex had been at the diner after the bizarre pony-play case, and he had hoped desperately for that to be their last conversation about anything sexual. It was unstable ground, the crumbling edge of a bottomless ravine, where they stood tentatively whenever the talk between them turned to intimacy. More often lately, he felt himself needing to pull them back from the precipice.
She seemed to be unaware of the danger, and even now was talking as though going over evidence.
"First, she called you 'Seeley', which only women you sleep with seem to call you."
"My mother calls me 'Seeley' Bones, so don't go there."
"Doesn't count. And secondly, she wrapped her left hand around yours when you shook her right hand. A handshake would have signified respect and a relationship of a professional nature, whereas using both hands means that had you not been meeting in a professional capacity – i.e. a crime scene – she would have hugged you, probably with both arms, with full frontal body contact," her smirk was unmistakable as she ticked this item off on her hand.
Booth was actually beginning to get nervous. At first he thought this was going to be another one of Bones' lame attempts to use psychology, prompted by Angela no doubt, and she was generally terrible at it. This time… her description of the handshake and how she interpreted the interaction was spot on. Before he could take control of the conversation, she continued.
"And thirdly, she touched you repeatedly during the conversation. Your forearm three times and your bicep twice. The touching was what gave it away." She sounded extremely satisfied with her interpretation of the touching. Booth just stared at the road, hoping if he ignored her she would go back to whatever book she had been reading. Book she had been reading …His head swiveled in her direction.
"Bones, let's say you're right about Sam. Let's say she and I "saw" each other once in a while way back in the day. Where exactly are you getting all this about body language?"
"From this book I bought the other day, when I was at that Barnes and Nobles doing the book signing. It's called, 'The Clues We Miss – Non-Verbal Revelations in a Verbal World'. I picked it up thinking I could do better at reading the body language of our suspects when we interrogate them – well, when you interrogate them. I haven't had a chance to use what I've learned on any suspects yet, so I'm trying it on people around me." She answered as though this was not something totally off the wall for her to be doing.
"You do realize that this is psychology, right? And that you hate psychology?"
"Actually the author is using a very scientific approach. Thousands of scientific studies have been done on body language, Booth, and it's laid out here much like any meta-analysis, with statistical confidence intervals and probabilities."
She had lost him after 'scientific approach'. The subtext however was glaringly obvious to Booth, unfortunately. If she gained the ability to accurately read body language – and Booth had no doubt that her genius was unlimited and could extend to this if she applied herself – then she would begin interpreting every movement he made. Every touch at the base of her spine as he ushered her through doors, every hand on her arm in support when the news mentioned her father's case, every 'guy hug' he needed more than she did.
Belatedly, he realized she had asked him a question. "What?"
"I saidwas I right about Agent Fletcher? Did you sleep with her "back in the day" whatever that means?
"Absolutely not, Bones. You're way off on that one. I helped Sam with her 'Weapons' class, and she's just thankful I did, or she wouldn't have made it through the Academy, that's all."
"Oh," she answered, the disappointment obvious. Booth watched as she tossed the book back in her bag with a sigh, and leaned back in her seat, her face turned to the countryside whizzing by.
He felt a twinge of guilt for causing her disappointment, but only for a second. He went back to watching the road, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. He had helped Samantha with her 'Weapons' class, and therefore hadn't lied. Technically. He had simply failed to mention the creative ways she showed her appreciation for his help, those long nights in his bed.
A/N: I'm not one to beg for reviews. But I am trying a new thing, writing without having the whole story wrapped up in my head. So helpful hints and constructive criticism would be great.