The Emasculation in the Spin Cycle
Disclaimer: I do not own BONES.
A/N: So I watched 5x19, slept on it, put in a hard day at work, and then came up with this little number. Check out my LJ entry (via Profile Homepage) for my actual opinion on this episode.
Special Agent Seeley Booth had never been a fan of anything to do with laundry. His father had firmly ensconced the line between the work of women and men in the Booth household, so much so, that Booth was ten years old before he realised that his magically clean clothes in his wardrobe were part of a very mundane reality. His Mom slaved for hours each week rising each morning as the sun dawned on their run-down Philly terrace, to starch and iron their clothes before starting on breakfast. When he had asked his Mom why she did this so early in the morning, she had told him that she thought up her best jingles during ironing time.
Joining the Army Rangers had quickly taught Booth the essentials of domesticity; particularly as the penalty for not meeting uniform and barracks standards involved having your bed, bedding and locker contents tossed out of your second floor window onto the muddy borders of the parade ground. This didn't mean that Booth liked doing laundry, quite the opposite; the majority of his clothes were cleaned by his local drycleaners, a practice that Rebecca had scoffed at when they first met, then hypocritically adopted herself.
Standing in front of the giant industrial laundry machine, Seeley Booth suppressed a shudder. It was littered with repulsive lumps of flesh, a grotesque parody of what happens when a tissue is left in the pocket of your pants and goes through the wash. He tried to take his mind off the situation by finding something else to look at. 'How about the jumpsuit covered derrieres of Drs Saroyan and Brennan?' suggested his libido. Uh huh, that would do nicely and would take his mind off the gore, and that awful tie that Catherine had bought for him. Bones hated it too – marine animal ties were so not rebel.
Coming to the end of his musings, Booth started to pay attention to the conversation between Bones and Cam. Trading Gynaecology gossip? Seriously, lady bits? They were at a crime scene, not a slumber party! He tried in vain to get them to stop talking about lady business and completely reneged on his previous desire to check out anything below their waistlines.
Just as Booth started considering excuses to get the hell out of the area, there was an echoing 'thunk' followed by a 'splat' onto the concrete floor in front of him, as a piece of the victim dislodged itself from the machine. Yuck. 'It was maybe an eye, or a kidney, or a pancreas...' he pondered, quickly reaching the limitations of his anatomical knowledge as Cam approached to pounce on the runaway evidence.
'Oh no, Cam! Don't pick it up with your fingers...!'
'It's a testicle' pronounced Cam brightly, as every woman in the vicinity gave an 'Ooh!' of surprise, and every man in earshot flinched, reflexively clenching his thighs together in mass hysterical sympathy. Booth puked in his mouth a little, fighting not to cup his manhood protectively.
A short time later, Bones started to give Booth an anthropological introduction to social contracts, using his lame gifted tie as a teaching point. Right now he was so frustrated, he wanted to rip the stupid tie off, and use it to gag Bones as he cuffed her to his bed.
'So what kind of social contract does this represent, Bones?' he heard his fantasy-self say, as she smiled expectantly around the marine animal fabric gag. Man, when fantasy-Bones started rationalising his fantasies, he knew he had it bad.
Sat at the diner next to Sweets that lunchtime, they drank coffee while waiting for Bones to arrive, Booth blew off some steam, relating the 'man-horror' that he had witnessed. He figured that even a guy with barely descended testicles, like Sweets, would respond to the need for 'guy comfort'.
Booth was wrong.
Sweets listened attentively, nodding and giving empathetic winces in all the right places, suckering Booth into a false sense of manly security. Then Sweets threw a psychological grenade into their fledgling male bonding session.
Booth was converted. Bones was right about everything – he should hate psychology.
"Booth, I believe that your extreme reaction to this situation is being fuelled by the ongoing tension between you and Dr. Brennan", said Sweets earnestly.
Booth was incredulous. "How does a guys' nut landing at my feet have anything to do with Bones?"
"The circumstances leading to this event at the crime scene are an uncomfortable reminder of your recent confrontation with Dr. Brennan." Replied Sweets reasonably.
"Oh yeah?" snorted Booth derisively. "Bring it on kid. This one, I have to hear."
Sweets sipped his coffee and launched into his analysis. "You feel a heightened empathy toward the victim because he was thrown into a giant washing machine, a metaphor for your own episode of 'coming clean' with Dr. Brennan on your feelings of love for her. The victim literally had his testicles ripped from his body in the process, you feel similarly emasculated by your experience."
"Bones metaphorically ripped my nuts off???" spluttered Booth, and lowered his voice to a hoarse growl. "Sweets you are way off the mark. I felt empathy toward the victim, because I'm a guy. A man. A dude. Get it?"
Bones arrived just in time, taking the seat next to Booth. Little did Sweets realise that Dr. Brennan had probably just saved him from having his own testicles ripped off and served on rye.
As they all tucked in to their lunch, Booth initially thought about what Sweets had said and dismissed it as mumbo jumbo. But as Bones began to deliver her Testicular Trauma 101 lecture, in nauseating, ball shrinking detail, Booth began to wonder if there was a grain of truth in what Sweets said. It was just wrong that any woman should know that much about permanently damaging a guy. As he saw his own sick to the stomach expression reflected on Sweets' face, Booth realised that he was not the only one feeling like he was being metaphorically kicked in the jewels right now.
Once the case was closed, Booth had recovered his equilibrium enough to go out for a post-case beer with Bones. It was still awkward for him and he realised that she was having a hard time too. The serious dating scene was a feral experience without the safety net of someone that you could fully rely on to be there, no matter what.
Bones had then floored him with her 'out loud' revelation of how their partnership was important to her. His open heart automatically responded before Booth could get a word in. He would die for her, no matter where things eventuated.
So they bantered for a while, companionably, about the last Led Zeppelin tickets in history, and rock 'n roll. Then Booth thought that he would entertain Bones with a rendition of Sweets' 'Emasculation of Seeley Booth' theory. She listened with a half-smile in place and he could almost hear the processors humming in her super-brain as she attempted to tackle the concepts of an alien soft science. At the end of the rendition, she had that serious look back on her face again, instead of the smug one she usually had when she debunked psychology. Booth braced himself, wondering whether he'd made a mistake in telling her.
"The last thing that I would ever want to do to you would be to rip off your testicles Booth. You need to know that," she said soberly.
"Duly noted Bones. Thanks...I think," said Booth trying to backpedal out of his self-created hell. "Another beer?"
She smiled and nodded as he waved over the bartender.
A/N: I don't know about you guys, but part of me wanted a little more substance from 5x19. I had to work hard to pick up the subtle signals. Anyhow, it was begging for a bit of a parody. Drop me a line & let me know if you liked or hated this!