Title: The Turn of Events in the SUV
Rating: T
Words: 1,200
Pairing: B/B
Spoilers: Um, Booth has a kid, and there's a line. But I sure hope you knew that already.
Summary: Booth and Brennan and biological inevitabilities. / He was NOT in the mood for a sex lecture so early in the morning, particularly when he'd already gotten such a tantalizing view of her ass in that jumpsuit.
"Booth, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
"What isn't?"
"You, I believe, were ticking off that field agent."
Booth stared at her. Brennan was obviously feeling a little British this morning. "I… huh?"
He thought back. What had he done?
Nothing, that's what. Okay, he might have been trying really, really hard to not look at Bones' ass as she bent over to pick up her dropped glove, but come on! He was only human. And frankly, if that annoyed the field agent in question… it's not his fault he's good-looking, that's all he's saying.
"I wasn't trying to piss her off, Bones," he shook his head.
Her brow furrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"No, Bones, I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"That's hardly a fault on my part," she sniffed.
Booth sighed, batting her hands away from the siren. "Don't even," he warned her sternly. "Look, let's just start over, okay?"
She acquiesced. "Okay."
"So. You believe I was pissing off another agent, on purpose?"
Brennan paused. "I believe that phrase means 'to anger', correct?"
"Yeah, Bones."
"Then… no."
"What?"
"I was replying in the negative."
"I got that, Bones." He smirked. "You feeling extra-nerdy today or something?"
Brennan shook her head. "I have no implement with which to measure the intelligence either felt or expressed through my verbal intercourse."
Good grief, she said intercourse. Just what I need.
"Not the point, Bones. Look, what makes you think I made her mad?"
Brennan's eyes clouded with confusion. "I said nothing about angering her."
"You said I was ticking her off!" Booth protested.
"Exactly."
"Huh?" It was too early for this. He hadn't had enough coffee yet. The sun was too bright. He was wearing his lucky socks, for crying out loud. This shouldn't be happening today.
"You were eyeing her in a particularly suggestive manner," Brennan shrugged.
"Oh," Booth shook his head. "Checking out, Bones; you mean I was checking her out. Not ticking her off."
"See? There's nothing to be ashamed about." She glanced out the window as they passed a park, turning back to face Booth.
He was spluttering. "I was not—"
"It's okay, Booth. You've merely been conditioned in accordance with current societal structure."
Oh, crap. It's time for anthropology. It allllways comes back to good old anthropology, he thought, stifling a smile.
"… values narrower waistlines, emphasizing the 'bust' and iliac crest, which are of course appealing to the male seeking to reproduce. However, narrower ilia became considered attractive of late, and this change in visual appreciation, though arguably detrimental to the survival of the species, is unfortunately one of the biological inevitabilities of—"
"Biological inevitabilities? Aw, Bones, not that again."
"Booth," she said, admonishingly, like he was being purposefully difficult. "It's been observed that sexual intercourse is becoming increasingly separated from reproduction in the minds of recent generations," she argued. "Logically, that implies that the act itself is sought merely for the biological release, and not objectively as a way to continue the species."
She nearly lost him at 'intercourse'.
"Ergo," she continued, and he was trying really, really hard not to look at her mouth while she spoke. They were at a stoplight, and he was not in the mood for a sex lecture so early in the morning, particularly when he'd already gotten such a tantalizing view of her ass in that jumpsuit.
Focus, Seeley.
"—when the continuation of the species is not featured into the equation, one is free to copulate without predetermining the success of the union."
"You mean," he suggested, " 'union' like marriage?"
"No," she frowned. "Like the female's… what could be referred to in the vernacular as 'hip width'."
"Oh," he nodded, like that had been exactly what he'd been thinking of all along. "Sure."
"It's only logical," she defended. "Any potential offspring resulting from the partnership would require suitable means of birth. I suspect that you subconsciously recognized the value of Rebecca's ilia when you sought to mate with her," she added helpfully.
"Whoa, Bones, hold it right there. Rebecca and I did not mate—" he wrinkled his nose "—and there was no subconscious ilia measuring, okay?"
"Booth," Brennan sighed patiently. "Subconscious means you were not aware of it occurring. Nonetheless, as Parker did eventuate from the copulation, the match proved to be successful."
"Aw, don't go getting all gushy on me there, Bones."
Her gaze was blank.
"You don't know what that means," he filled in. "Got it."
"On the other metacarpus"—she sounded pleased—"I have a particularly valuable physical structure when it comes to reproduction," she commented. "For example, my pelvis is slightly wider than some, which, while not guaranteeing an anthropologically-successful delivery, would significantly increase my chances for capably birthing my young as nature intended."
"Can you not refer to kids as young, Bones?" he asked with a grimace. "It's just kinda… weird."
Not to mention the direction his thoughts were taking, now that she'd gone and talked about her hips. Bones bending, tight clothing—that black dress in Vegas, smacking her ass…
Oh, merciful mother of God.
"Booth?" she called, jerking him out of his reverie. "The next light is red. You should begin to decelerate now, in order to cease movement at an appropriate location."
"Yes ma'am," Booth nodded, tossing a charm smile in her direction.
"Anthropologically speaking," she continued, picking up seamlessly from his previous protest, "children—or as they are so colloquially referred to, 'kids', which is in fact the term for the offspring of goat, antelope or similar—are human young. Therefore, my reference to 'young' of my own is, in fact, accurate."
They pulled up at the light, and Booth looked over at Brennan, all ready to make a point. He leaned a little into her personal space, like he'd done so many times before.
But.
Just then, she was kind of leaning too, and then they were closer than he'd ever intended. He was looking straight into her eyes, and she was looking back at him, and for a moment—just one moment—it seemed like time stood still.
He'd never mention that to her, though. She'd have some sort of scientific explanation that he really wouldn't care for. (Yes, he decided. There is such a thing as too much knowledge.)
"Is this," she started softly, her voice tentative in the small space between them, "what is known as a 'moment'?"
"Yeah, Bones," he murmured back. "This is our moment."
"Oh," she said thoughtfully. Her pupils were doing that sparkling thing she'd assured him was a result of sexual arousal, and her face was slightly flushed.
They both have their skills. Bones sciences away her demons, and Booth… Booth reads people.
And right now, he was reading her.
"But," she breathed, "the line—"
"Bones, would you just shut up a minute?" he finally asked her. "Just… forget the goddamn line, okay?"
"Booth," she whispered, leaning in impossibly further, "are you sure you should be making such blasphemous references in relation to an obscure hypothetical constrmmph."
And she tasted better than he remembered, warm and sweet and Bones as her tongue touched his softly.
He'd always known his lucky socks would come through for him.
Everything happens eventually.
