Authors Note: Hey guys. Ola! My first go at a Bones fic. Yay! I've tried to keep in character as much as possible. Not too sure how I've gone capturing Brennan on this first one. I would really appreciate a quick note to let me know what you thought. Also, if anyone has any ideas on where and how I could take this later on - that'd be a big help too. I have a fair idea - but I always like to hear other poeples opinions. What can I say? I aim to please.
Disclaimer: Grr, matey! I do not own such a treasure! Gah! Just the basic idea behind
CHAPTER ONE – A LOST MUSE & CHRISTMAS CHEESE
Blank. For the past hour, all she had come up with was one work – blank.
She'd tried everything, anything imaginable to get those words flowing. Nothing was working.
Her publisher wanted her next five chapters by 10am the next morning.
She'd long since developed immunity against caffeine – somewhere just beyond her fourth cup, maybe?
Music wasn't helping much either. She found herself more interested in the melody then her writing.
Angela wasn't help either. Every conversation seemed to track back to whether or not she was dedicating this book to Booth as well.
Like she needed another reminder of her "Knight in Standard issue FBI Body Armour", or something like that. Sometimes she just did not understand Angela.
She wanted a drink. Wine to be exact.
It had been a long week – and Temperance Brennan felt herself deserving of a nice, relaxing, comforting glass of wine.
Maybe later – after the writing was finished – she'd even treat herself to a nice bubble bath. One with one of those vanilla bath things Angela had brought her for Christmas.
Wine and cheese – that deliciously creamy, soft cheese with the small melon squares scattered throughout she always seemed to get in her Christmas hamper from the Jeffersonian each year.
Getting up from her chair, Brennan made her way into the kitchen. Turning on the light – she closed her eyes and sighed. If there was one solitary thing she absolutely loved about Christmas it was the assortment of flavored cheeses she could only seem to commandeer over the festive season.
After pulling out the cheese and cutting herself a decent slice she went about pouring herself a glass of wine.
Sliding up onto the counter she slipped a smaller slice of the cheese past her lips.
God, she really loved this cheese. It was quite silly really – to be so endeared by cheese – of all things.
She'd have to ask the purchasing department where they managed to acquire such delicate find.
Swallowing, she finally took a sip of the wine, savoring the cool taste of the bubbling liquid as it washed over the tastebuds on her tongue.
Resting her head against the cupboards behind her she sighed again. This was exactly what she needed – to relax.
She found it very … complex … to write those sorts of things.
Whilst writing her previous novel her publisher asked her to add in some 'smut' as he called it.
Now, most things were not all that hard for Temperance Brennan, but she had found it very challenging to write something unbiased - something that didn't reflect on her personally.
Angela had certainly been impressed when she'd read it. Even Hodgins had complimented it as being 'hot'. And Booth, well Booth had just blushed and tried to divert the subject to a completely different matter when she confronted him in regards to it. Just like he did with anything pertaining to something of a sexual nature.
She'd felt quite pleased at these reactions – minus Booths. His wasn't exactly what one would call a 'constructive' response – creatively speaking.
Regardless, she'd managed to put herself in a position where she had to; 1) write some more 'smut', or 2) re-write the entire last chapter. The latter of which was not all that favorable.
An hour, half a circle of 'melony-cheese' and three glasses of wine later, Brennan was back at her desk – staring absently at the screen.
She'd managed to write a paragraph.
Two hours and she'd finally come up with one, singular, solitary, shitty paragraph.
This was really bad. Her publisher wanted this on his desk in less than eleven hours.
Somewhere along the line, the bottle of wine had ended up resting on her desk next to her cell – the glass long forgotten.
Reaching over, she took the rim of the bottle to her lips – she took another swig and swallowed.
Scrolling back up to the top of the page, Brennan re-read what she had written.
Concentrating was beginning to seem a little to demanding – with the corners of a few select words doing small flip-flops every now and then.
She eventually settled on the small bit of foreplay she'd managed to write. Quite satisfied on the fact she'd been able to detach herself from her character, once again.
Relaxing back into the high leather chair, she took another sip of the offending liquid. Yup, she was beginning to feel the alcohol effect.
Brennan focused her attention back onto the screen.
She needed to plan her next attack – slowly – on the keyboard.
Would she continue on with procrastinating with foreplay?
Or would she get away with jumping to the main event?
She needed help.
Angela! Angela was very good for sex things. Sliding open her cell, she scrolled for the name and hit dial.
Humming along to the music on her media player, she waited for her Best Friend to pick up.
Finally, she heard Angela on the other end. "Hi! You're reached Angela Monten…."
Great. Voicemail. Brennan hung up. Voicemail wasn't helpful right now.
Cam? Surely Cam would be able to help. Scrolling for the number, she dialed again. Voicemail again.
She wouldn't even bother with Hodgins or Zach. Hodgins would be wherever Angela was, also ignoring his cell. And Zach, well she doubted Zach would be much help.
Booth! She could call Booth. Just as before, she scrolled and dialed.
No Voicemail this time.
Ha. Ha! Cliffie!
So, how'd I go???