The ride back to the Jeffersonian was teeming with tension. Booth could not drive his SUV – it would mean taking the risk of his car seats contaminating evidence, and that would be unacceptable. There is no 'could-be-crucial' evidence. Evidence is evidence, therefore it is all crucial. Some may not be used in a court case, but it is still crucial.
Temperance Brennan had never denied that Seeley Booth was a fascinating man. Pleasing to look at and converse with, she very much enjoyed spending time with Booth, and she found that very few of the silences between them were awkward (if they were, they did not last long). Booth was a loving father, a fierce agent, and a protective partner and friend. Having spent the last four and a half years as partners, Brennan could appreciate that there were many hidden facets to this man.
Currently, the man in question could be found sitting on top of an examination table usually reserved for those no longer living. Rarely did the lab see evidence on clothing worn by a sentient creature. Brennan found it odd, yet she didn't mind that this particular piece of evidence was on her table. For as tall as he is, Brennan noticed absently that his feet dangled toward the floor, his pant legs lifted, revealing a pair of black, striped socks. When she moved to the front of the table to more easily shift his outer clothing, his legs were still. She observed, however, that when she moved back around to the opposite side, Booth's feet would start swaying gently. Such a boyish trait was endearing to her, and yet she knew it was a subconscious movement on his part.
"Did you hear anything back on that cab driver?" Booth asked as she removed several chunks of tissue from his charcoal suit jacket.
"No. But Cam is in touch with the hospital." Focused on her work, she methodically put the last easily removable piece of tissue into the container as she continued, "Okay. I have to remove your clothing now."
Immediately, Brennan could notice Booth's posture straightening, and his voice became only slightly suspicious. "Why?"
"Well, there may be particulates," she replied.
As she removed his jacket from his shoulders, she heard Booth ask, "Particulates?" His head turned as he spoke, and she could assume only that Booth's sudden discomfort was caused by her removing his clothes for him.
"Evidence for Hodgins," she looked up as she spoke, aware that Booth knew this, "and flesh for Cam."
Moving around to face Booth, he said, "You know, the bomber said something about answering the call. What do you think that means?" Brennan began loosening the tie around Booth's neck as she spoke.
"Well, many terrorists feel they're acting upon divine instruction." Brennan could feel Booth's rather direct gaze as she continued working, but ignored it, continuing in her motions as though she did not notice.
"I don't think he was a terrorist. I just think he was a bank robber." Booth's voice was quiet. Brennan didn't know how she could tell, but he seemed hyperaware of her proximity.
Brennan looked upon where the tie lay on Booth's shoulders, being careful not to dislodge whatever might be on the different fabrics. "There's spatter on the back of your collar."
"Spatter?"
Brennan said nothing as she completed the removal of the tie and laid it on the table, only speaking when her hands were free. "Okay."
Brennan began unbuttoning the white buttons of Booth's shirt, and Booth quickly said, "I can take my own shirt off," his hands reaching to where hers currently were.
Quick to respond, Brennan pushed his hands away. "No, don't. You'll compromise the evidence." Such a statement was the truth, but she could not help but admit to herself that she purposefully neglected to give Booth a pair of gloves so that he may indeed remove his own clothing. She very rarely got to enjoy the sight of Booth with little apparel and, she was honest enough to admit to herself, was not going to waste the opportunity to be the one who caused his semi-nudity. Truth though it was, even if only admitted to herself, Brennan could not quite bring herself to look Booth in the eye as she worked.
"Right," was Booth's reply. Being as intelligent as she was, she could tell that Booth was beginning to fidget.
"I'm having Christmas dinner at my place this year with my dad." Brief eye contact. "Considering you've been shunted aside by your own family, I'd like to invite you." Brennan thought that moment seemed as good a time as any to bring up the topic, and it worked to her advantage. Most of the buttons on Booth's shirt were undone, and her words (blunt though they were) seemed to distract him. However, she could not continue with eye contact as she finished.
"That's a sweet invitation." Brennan smiled internally, realizing that Booth saw past her word choice and took the statement for what it was intended to be: an extension of friendship from one to another.
As she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, the last buttons having been undone, she asked, "So, will you come?" She walked around the table to resume her evidence gathering.
"I don't know. I was thinking about going up to Quebec to see Parker." Brennan could only imagine the emotional pain Booth must endure, not only on Christmas but throughout the year, at not being able to see his son. "I really don't care what Rebecca thinks."
As Booth spoke, Brennan was faced with his rather well-muscled bare back. She could tell that he kept himself in good shape.
"Well, if you do that, won't she retaliate by insisting upon coming to all your special times with Parker?" With so few times Booth was able to see his son, Brennan knew he cherished the time spent with just the two of them.
"Yeah." A simple, one-word reply was all she received.
Finally, she could no longer hold in her appreciation. "You have a perfect acromion," she said as she walked around the table once more. "Stand up." As she spoke, she could see Booth's appreciation of the compliment. "Off the table."
"Okay. Oh! What is – is there stuff on my pants?" Booth was obviously stunned at her movements toward the pants fastenings.
"Yeah. Vascular tissue on your 'Cocky' belt buckle," she said as she pointed out the piece in question. Undoing the belt, she gathered the buckle in one hand and slid the leather through the belt loops around Booth's waist.
"Oh, right. It slides right off, and, uh, we're done." Booth was clearly uncomfortable, though Brennan didn't know exactly because of what, whether it was because she was undressing him or because he was being undressed at all. She did know that he was having difficulty looking her in the eye.
"No. I'll have to remove your pants." All in the name of gathering evidence, of course. She began unfastening the button, then moved to the zipper as Booth started speaking.
"All right, you know, I'm just gonna start reciting some saints. Saint Joseph, Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint John…" Booth trailed off as she was sliding the material down Booth's legs.
As Brennan moved to collect the fabric, she simultaneously heard Booth's muttered, "Mary, Mother –" as well as the door leading to the outside of the room opening. Brennan turned to face the doorway, a gasp leaving her lips as she moved. She saw a stunned Cam looking at her, and watched as Cam looked at Booth. Brennan could not bring herself to look at Booth, afraid of what her face might give away as she struggled to maintain a straight face, especially after Cam's comment.
"Anyone for mistletoe?"
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A/N: So…I've been MIA for a while on the Bones front. I do apologize, though I wouldn't say it won't happen again… Thanks go to cmol8806 for being an amazing Beta and friend. She's only looked at this once, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any, feel free to let me know.
Thank you to all who have stuck with me, and please let me know what you think.