Title: Beer and Conversation

Title: Beer and Conversation
Rating: T (for now)
Pairing: Brennan/Cam
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 3
Summary: "I was going to suggest that you put down the bones and come have a drink."
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters contained within. I am in no way responsible for their creation. No copyright infringement is intended with this fic.

"Dr. Brennan? Is that you?" I heard her voice call from up on the second floor walkway.

"Yeah, it's me," I called back up to Cam, glancing around, trying to locate her in the dim light. Everyone else has gone home, and I had thought that she had too, but clearly I had been mistaken.

"Dr. Brennan," she scolded from her hidden position, "Why are you still here? I left my wallet on my desk and I assumed everyone was gone, but then I saw the light on down here."

She appeared then, carefully stepping down the stairs in a cream colored lacy shirt that defined the strong lines of her biceps. I was surprised to see that she was wearing a skirt, a short snug tan one that barely came to mid-thigh. I watched her curiously as she approached, explaining, "I had work to do. With all that's happened, I haven't been able to find the time to get back to the identification of those remains that we received before--" I stopped, seeing that she clearly understood which remains I was speaking of, and that she was disapproving of my decision to stay late to work on them.

I watched her cross her arms across her chest, just below her breasts as she crossed the rest of the distance between us with a slight frown on her face. Her eyes were on the bones I had laid out on the table as she said, "The remains that I specifically said could wait until Monday?"

"Yes, but I felt that I could get a head start on them tonight. I wanted work and this body does need to be identified." I turned back to my work, carefully lifting the C-4 vertebra from the table with a gloved hand to examine the hairline fractures I had found on the posterior side of the bone just prior to Cam's appearance. "I believe may have found evidence of a crush injury on the C-4 vertebra. It's very focused and doesn't seem to have affected the surrounding bone at all--"

"Dr. Brennan." she said sternly as I felt her hand come to rest on my shoulder. "Can I offer you some advice?"

"Do you have an idea as to what could have caused these fractures?" I asked curiously. "Because if you do--"

"No. I was going to suggest that you put down the bones..." Her hand took hold of my wrist then and slowly lowered it down until I sat the bone down gently on the table. "And come have a drink."

I turned to look at her and suddenly realized just how close she was standing to me. When she'd first approached, I had assumed that she was going to take a look at what I was working on. But this close, I was reminded that she was not wearing a lab coat, or gloves or goggles. But when I turned, I felt my hand collide briefly with the rough lace that was wrapped snugly over her breasts. To her credit, Cam didn't budge, just kept her eyes trained on me and her brought her hands firmly to her hips.

As I tried to think of what to say, I was surprised to notice that she was dressed for something. Her eyes were rimmed with eyeliner and her lips had been smoothed with pearly lipstick and she was radiating the scent of something distinctly spicy, perhaps cloves or cardamom. Her hair was pulled up in a dramatic style, with ribbons of locks intentionally pulled down from the style to frame her face. My eyes couldn't help but to wander down her body, noting the careful fit of the top that dipped deep between her breasts, and the surprise of finding bare legs beneath that short skirt.

"Don't you already have plans? I certainly wouldn't want to interfere..." I asked, letting my eyes roam downward once more, this time making no attempt to hide my obvious appraisal of her body.

She still hadn't wavered. "I was just going to get a drink. I wasn't really looking forward to going alone. I was hoping one of you workaholics would still be here, slaving away over something. But it seems everyone else hurried home tonight. It's just you and me."

"So you think that I should accompany you to the bar?" I asked her, seeing her eyebrows lift slightly.

"I'm not asking you on a date, Dr. Brennan. We're colleagues. We both had an incredibly difficult week so I'm saying, lets go get a drink. That's what people do, Dr. Brennan." The tone in her voice was the first challenge, but her words only doubled the stakes.

Once again, I took her in, this time finding my eyes drawn to her feet, which were clad in ridiculously high-heeled gold sandals that were probably doing damage to her back as we spoke. I should have noticed them sooner, as their height made her slightly taller than myself. I also recalled just how carefully she had ascended the stairs, each bare leg extending while the other bent to gracefully lower her to the next step. Normally, Cam would have come down those stairs like a woman on a mission. She rarely stepped lightly and I expected her in casual flats or athletic shoes, taking those stairs two at a time.

Before I could think, the words escaped my lips. "You look exceptionally nice this evening." The words sounded casual, but for me they felt entirely foreign and I wasn't quite sure why I had voiced that to her.

I was surprised to see her hands drop from her hips and come towards me, taking one hand and then the other and peeling off the gloves that encased them. Tossing them on the table, she then unbuttoned my lab coat and peeled it away, tossing it over the stool I had been using. Next, she pulled the protective cover over the table before putting a hand on my arm. "We're going, Dr. Brennan."

Once outside, she flagged down a cab and held the door to let me get in first. She directed the cab to a place she referred to as the Corner Bar at G and 15th Streets. I eyed the place warily as we pulled up, realizing that we were steps away from the Treasury Department and the White House. As we entered, we turned away from the main restaurant entering a side area labeled as the Corner Bar. Despite the early hour, the place was fairly crowded, all clearly professionals by trade, many still dressed in their power suits and business attire. I felt her hand take mine, pulling me past the bar and around the corner where there were a series of booths and guided me into one before sliding in next to me.

We had barely taken our seats when a young woman appeared and quietly asked us for our drink order before quickly disappearing around the corner.

Glancing around, I took in the full effect of the heavy wood design of the place and realized just how quiet it was considering the number of people. Most of them were crowded around tall tables, all leaning in to speak quietly. I had the distinct impression that this place was probably known for discretion and power. I felt quite out of place in my rather un-fashionable blazer and slacks.

She must have noticed my gaze because she finally spoke, it felt like an answer, or perhaps an apology. "I like the quiet here sometimes. Men don't come here to pick up women, they come to make deals. The women too. Mostly, my presence is of little consequence to them and I get to drink my beer in peace."

I nodded, pursing my lips in thought as I saw the waitress reappear, stepping up to our table only long enough to put our open beer bottles in front of us before retreating. Reaching for mine, I turned to Cam and asked, "Should we be drinking to something?"

She frowned at that, then declared softly, "To Zach."

"To Zach," I replied, echoing her words as I nodded. I raised my beer and took a quick swig as I watched her lift her own to take a long slow drink that drained nearly a third of the bottle.

She set the beer back down roughly, slapping a palm firmly down on the table next to my hand. For a moment, she pursed her lips in thought before asking, "Do you think we could have done something? Is there something we missed that might have prevented this?"

I took another drink and shook my head. "There was no way to anticipate this. At least not that I can think of."

She nodded, turning her eyes to stare at the other side of the booth. Her upper arm was brushing mine each time she took a breath, and after she lifted her arm to take another drink, her hand came back down next to my thigh.

It was strange and entirely awkward.

I knew nearly nothing about this woman who was sitting so close to me that I could have calculated her respiration rate if I was so inclined. Only that she had been a medical examiner in New York City and that she had been involved with Booth. I'd come to respect her work professionally, but I had no idea what to think of her sudden interest in me, or what kind of an interest it was.

The silence stretched onward, both of us sipping our beers until both bottles were empty, watching the people around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her, noting how her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened when she paused to examine something. There was a slight fuzziness arising by the time I finished my beer and I was pleasantly warm between my buzz and her closeness.

When the waitress brought us each another beer, I felt the need to bridge the silence, so I asked her the only question I knew to ask, "How did you and Agent Booth first meet?"

The question hit her hard and she stiffened next to me, her head swinging around to pin me with her gaze. "What?"

I repeated my question, trying to keep my tone even and I saw her blush and duck her head, mumbling something under her breath. When she lifted her eyes again, she replied, a bit breathy as though trying to hold back a laugh, "I knew you'd ask me that someday." She shook her head and brought her hand up to her hair to push it back from her face, then dropped her cheek onto her hand to lean, fully facing me.

"Why do you say that?"

A slight grin spread across her slightly sideways face as she chuckled to herself slightly. "Because, Dr. Brennan, you have a penchant for asking the most awkward questions without realizing just how awkward they are... and I'm not a fool. I've seen the way Seeley looks at you. He'd be all yours if you wanted him."

"All mine?" I asked, knowing my face was twisting slightly at the sound of those words coming from her lips.

She laughed again, slightly louder this time, her head tilting back as she took another long drink of her beer. "Never mind, Brennan. Do you really want to know how Seeley and I met?"

"I do. I've always wondered. He has a great deal of respect and loyalty to you and I've always wondered how that developed because it took him years to stop referring to only as squints," I replied, pushing her comments to the back of my mind as I took another drink of my beer.

"it's not a terribly exciting story. He was working on a case with multiple victims and I was the chief medical examiner on the case. I think he was still pretty new to the FBI at that point and he needed serious help understanding what I gave him in the autopsy reports. That man had no idea what to do with that case," I saw her focus go soft, as if she were remembering some long ago moment in time.

"So how did you the two of you..." I prompted, taking another quick drink.

Again she shook her head, dropping her eyes to the table. "You are quite the nosy Nellie aren't you?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind," she said, sighing slightly. "It was pretty simple really. After the case, he took me out for dinner. Said he wanted to thank me for helping him out. We went out to dinner and he charmed my socks off."

I wanted to ask her what that meant as well, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing she would only laugh it off. Biting down on my lower lip, I turned to look out the window at the crowd of smokers standing outside. There were two young women and an older man who lit their cigarettes with an odd grin on his face, then barely spoke as they puffed down their cigarettes quickly, fanning themselves in the late spring heat. After only a few minutes, they disappeared down the street and turned back towards Cam, unsure how to continue the conversation.

"Dr. Brennan?" She said, brushing her hand against to draw my attention. I brought my eyes to hers and waited.

"Hmmm?" I murmured when she didn't speak right away.

"I've wanted to apologize to you... for a long time now. When I first came on at the Jeffersonian, I... I think I may have miss judged you early on, and part of that may have been tainted by my involvement with Agent Booth. At times, I was rather harsh... I just want you to know that you've definitely earned my respect."

I was shocked to see that the words had brought her to the brink of tears. My breath caught in my throat, knowing that I needed to say something appropriate, but having no idea what to say to her. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what Angela would have done if it were me who had been brought to tears by my own honesty. She would know how who was now sitting so close that I could feel her hip pressing into mine.

With a deep breath, I reached out and brushed the hair back from Cam's face, feeling the heat rolling off her skin. My other hand reached out to take hold of hers, squeezing it gently. "Thank you. I hope you know that while I did have questions regarding the decision to name you as our director, you have more than proven yourself deserving of the position."

I heard her sniffle slightly, but then her lips turned up slightly as she murmured a quiet "Thanks," before bringing her free hand up to wipe away her tears. "I'm sorry... I don't usually get all emotional like this... This just feels like shock. It hasn't really hit me yet, I don't think."

I nodded, surprised that she was still clinging to my hand as two new beers appeared in front of us. I felt her take a deep breath before pulling our clasped hands down off the table to rest on her thigh. With her other hand she lifted her beer and said, "This one's to you, Dr. Brennan. Because you may just knock my socks off yet."

My eyes swung over to her and this time I knew my face was screwed up in an awkward version of confused when she laughed heartily and took her drink. I took a drink myself, warily watching her from the corner of my eye. The alcohol was in full effect at this point and I felt myself swaying slightly as I tried to adjust my position. Her face was still a light with an almost silly smile as she gazed at me. I was surprised when I felt her gaze traveling over my skin, lingering most pointedly at my lips. Her fingers kept fidgeting against mine and I realized I had no idea what was going on.

Once again, she lifted her beer and chugged down the rest of the bottle with enthusiasm before slapping the bottle back down on the table triumphantly. Licking her lips, she turned towards me, sweeping a hand up the arm that wasn't touching her until it was resting on my shoulder. Squeezing gently, she turned me until I was fully facing her and narrowed her eyes to more carefully examine my face. She was certainly seemed to be expressing an interest in me that I had never seen before and because of that, I wasn't sure whether my conclusion was valid or based solely on the alcohol.

"Damn," she said suddenly with a heavy sigh of frustration. She released my shoulder and my hand and turned away. "You have no idea what's going on."

"Then explain."

The words came from my mouth without thought, accompanied by the motion of my hand, coming up between us to rest on her shoulder, trying to guide her back to where we had been just a moment ago. She only turned back half way, but our eyes met and I felt her arousal nearly leaping out at me. It caught in my throat and even when I tried to clear my throat with a cough, it refused to be dislodged. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and I felt the heat between my legs begin to spread upward. And when she finally turned to fully face me once more, my body seemed to hum with excitement and intoxication.

The heat suffused my face as I realized she was leaning in, and her lips were beginning to brush mine before I realized that she had brought a hand up to rest at the base of my neck and pull me in close. The kiss began as a mere touch, but rapidly evolved into a slow exploration of one another's taste and texture. My fingers found her lacy shirt, feeling the rough pattern molded along her athletic body. Hers came to slide beneath my blazer, finding my fitted tank top and sought to tease the angle of my rib cage.

It wasn't until the waitress appeared and rather loudly snatched up our bottles that we parted slowly, fingers still clinging to one another's torsos for support.