A/U: this is my second songfic. ONE CHAPTER ONLY! This one's about Brennan and Booth. I don't own this song or Bones. Done to Taylor Swift's Picture to Burn
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Stupid men. Always screwing you over. These words and others were running through her mind. She was looking for a box, where was it? Her latest boyfriend, now ex, had dumped her for some girl he met while skiing. She knew that what she was doing wasn't rational, but she was doing it anyway.
State the obvious,
I didn't get my perfect fantasy
I realized that you love yourself
More that you could ever love me
So go and tell your friends
That I'm obsessive and crazy
That's fine
I'll tell mine
You're gay,
And by the way,
She found the box she was looking for, in it pictures of the two of them. She looked at the car behind it, she always hated it, and it was a metal death trap. She pulled the box toward the fire, took the first picture, and dropped it in there.
I hate that stupid old pickup truck,
You never let me drive
You're a redneck, heartbreak
Who's really bad at lying,
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
As far as I'm concerned,
You're just another picture to burn
She was thinking about all the bad things she could do to him. It ranging from toilet papering his house, which she knew would do nothing but annoy him, to telling Booth. She smiled at what Booth might do to him if he knew. She took a look at the next picture, which was her, him, and some of his buddies. They were all attractive, she wondered- no that wouldn't be fair to them. She sighed and tossed it into the fireplace.
There's no time for tears,
I'm just sitting here planning my revenge
There's nothing stopping me
From going out with all of your best friends
And if you come around sayin'
Sorry to me
My daddy's going to show you
How sorry you'll be
She took her third picture out; this was going to be awhile, of him sitting on the hood of his car. He loved that thing more than her. It must be a male thing she decided; all men love their cars more than their women. Well, except for Booth, but he was different.
'Cause I hate that stupid
Old pickup truck
You never let me drive
You're a redneck, heartbreak
Who's really bad at lying,
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
As far as I'm concerned,
You're just another picture to burn
She picked up another picture; she had been burning two at a time. She wondered what Booth was doing right now. She needed the way he always seemed to be in a good mood. She figured he was doing something stupid and male, like watching a basketball game.
And if you're missing me
You better keep it to
Yourself
'Cause coming back around here
Would be bad for your health
There was knock on the door. Brennan looked at her watch, it was a quarter to ten and Angela was away. Nobody else would come around at this time of night. She looked at another picture of him and that stupid car noting how many pictures she had of him with it. She tossed it into the flames.
'Cause I hate that stupid
Old pickup truck
You never let me drive
You're a redneck, heartbreak
Who's really bad at lying,
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
In case you haven't heard
She figured if she ignored it, they'd go away. She needed to be alone right now. The knocking continued, she tossed two more pictures in and went to answer the door.
I really, really hate that stupid
Old pickup truck
You never let me drive
You're a redneck, heartbreak
Who's really bad at lying,
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
As far as I'm concerned,
You're just another picture to burn
Burn, burn, burn,
Baby burn
It was Booth at the door. Armed with takeout, all her favorite things. He'd heard what happened and wanted to see if she was okay and did she want him to shoot this guy. She laughed and shook her head.
Just another picture to burn
Baby burn
After Booth left, she went and found another box, this time filled with pictures of her and Booth. She promised herself, that no matter how mad she was at him, he wouldn't be just another picture to burn.
