AN: I felt fluffy, and I felt the Hodgela bug. So it may not be good, and it may not be important, but here it is all the same.
Night at the Jeffersonian
The Jeffersonian lab was completely dark. It was shut down for the night – every scientist, every agent, every janitor done and gone. Nothing was left but corpses and evidence. And a couple of squints working oh-so-diligently in a corner office. Sort of.
"Worst case?"
Angela furrowed her brow and picked at her cold Chinese with her chopsticks. "Epps, easy. Still gives me shivers, thinking about him. You?"
Hodgins collapsed on the couch next to her. "Terry. Obviously. Resignation letters were involved. Weirdest case?"
"The one where those that trucker killed his friend over the last bottle of beer. Like Billy Joe or Bobby Joe or something with Joe." Her hand flapped in a dismissive gesture as she rooted around the takeout bag.
"I think it was Robby Joe." His brow furrowing, Hodgins tossed a fortune cookie into Angela's lap. "Nowhere as weird as Brennan's dad, though. Or the time that guy somehow got a leech stuck on the inside of his brain."
Angela snorted. "Ok, hardest case?"
"Oh, God." Hodgins laughed briefly. "You remember that double homicide a few weeks after last Christmas? The Channing case?" Angela nodded, stuffing some noodles in her mouth. "And how I made that brilliant discovery about the species of lice in the younger kid's hair and the location of the murder?" Angela tilted her head questioningly. Hodgins grinned. "I had no idea what I was doing. I worked on the case for three days without going home. I ran all the tests from the books, did all the correct procedures, and I had squat. So ... I asked Zack."
Angela, whose head was dipped over the noodle carton, snapped her gaze up to him, eyes wide. "Zack. You asked Zack for help? With bugs?" She burst out laughing.
Hodgins nodded his head in a resigned sort of way. "Yeah, yeah. Come on. Tell me you have something worse. You drew a face for a rat or something."
The laughter ended abruptly. "Nothing. Nothing," Angela muttered, turning pink. She stood up and strode to her desk, riffling through her papers.
Hodgins chuckled, staring her down without moving an inch. "It can't be any worse than mine."
"Um ... we should get these papers done. Booth said the FBI needed this ... and those sketches for that victim, that should take a while, so if this is done tonight ... I could ..." Angela's head was ducked low, her face shielded by her hair.
It took Hodgins a second to cross the room to stand by her. "Angela, it can't possibly be that bad." Seeing that she still didn't want to look at him, Hodgins took another approach. "Look, you don't have to –"
Angela slammed some papers down. Breathing heavily, she turned to him slowly. "It was you, all right?" She finally met his gaze. "When you and Brennan were down in the ground. I couldn't do anything, you know? I wasn't any help at all, and there was the enormous clock counting down hours of air, and I couldn't ..." She glanced back down, then back to his face. "I was totally useless, and you were dying. That's my hardest case."
Hodgins stared at her for a second with his patented blue-eyed stare. The next moment, they were kissing, without any idea who had made the first move.
The Jeffersonian was still quiet, and still dark. But those last squints? They were definitely not doing anything scientific anymore.
AN: Told ya it was fluffy. Hope you like it and all that. I've "One Girl Revolution (Battle Mix)" by Superchick stuck in my head, and damn it if it won't come out. And I am so very, very tired. Love? Hate? Review!