I stood as she walked out of her office, dressed up for another date with another loser on another Friday night when I'd be going home to watch hockey and grit my teeth about the fact that she might be 'relieving biological urges' with someone else, and pasted a smile on my face, wishing her a good evening. She smiled back, looking what? why did she look sad? and then headed out the door, her hips swaying under the silk of her close-cut dress, as she walked off on heels almost as high as the ones she'd worn in Vegas, though thank God she wasn't wearing now what she'd worn then, because if I saw her dressed up like that for another guy besides me... Uggh. I flopped back into her couch and put my head in my hands. I might as well wallow in misery in her office as my house, and her office had the added benefit? torture? of smelling like her. I'm an idiot. Can't she see I'm in love with her? Doesn't she know she drives me insane? How can she not possibly feel the jolt of electricity that passes between us each time we come into contact, a thousand times worse since Christmas and that damned mistletoe? How can she do this to me, go out on dates with other guys and smile at me as she walks away? I mean, she's a genius, she should know this stuff. She can't possibly be so oblivious, can she?
"Aaaagghhhhh!!" Well, that was sort of satisfying-- groans of sexual frustration and unrequited love bounce much better off an enormous, metal-lined cave of a lab than my coffee table. At least it's eight on a Friday night and I'm the only loser here.
"She thinks you don't want her, you know." Shit. Wasn't as alone as I thought. What? Angela followed her bombshell into the room and sat down beside me.
"What?! How could she possibly think that!!" Nice, Seeley, there, just tell her best friend, the world's biggest gossip, what you've so far managed to keep to yourself, except clearly not if she's saying something like that.
She looked amused. Of course, Angela always looks amused. I suppose having sex three times a day with the bug man in every nook and cranny in the lab would make anyone pretty relaxed and amused. Agh. This was not helping. Sex equals thoughts of sex with Bones, which equals thoughts of what's under Bones' dress that she's wearing tonight, which equals thoughts about the fact that she seemed to be wearing stockings, and oh, God, stop it, don't give yourself a boner right in front of Angela, please? Maintain some shred of dignity, there, Seeley, boy.
"I was nagging at her about her date tonight, one she wasn't particularly interested in going on, by the way, and teasing her about you, because, well, I enjoy seeing her blush," what? blush? she blushes when Angela teases her about me? "and I kept at her, telling her what a dork this guy was, and she got mad and yelled at me."
"She always gets mad when you criticize her taste in men. So what?" I mean, she always gets mad when I criticize her taste in men, and I do that, a lot, more than I should, really, but I just can't seem to get the filter between my brain and my mouth to work on that point.
"Well, see, this was interesting, though, because I got her really wound up, and she told me about some lady investigator you two were working with over in England, and how you and this investigator had some clear chemistry, and yet she didn't think you'd slept with her, but that you'd basically invited her to come visit, so you probably would, and that this woman was stunningly gorgeous, and then, Booth, then, she ... sighed."
"She what?" I mean, yeah, Pritch is hot, and she's a great cop, and she got me a James Bond gun, which was cool, and now all the guys at work are jealous, but still, as sweet and as nice as she is, she's no Bones. And I'm not about to hop in the sack with someone whose partner just got murdered, anyway.
Angela smiled, and repeated herself. "She sighed, Booth, and she looked... sad. So, I asked her why the hell you two haven't hooked up yet, and you know what she told me?"
I shook my head. "No clue. Really. I mean, I normally know what she's thinking, but..."
She looked at me, gauging to see if I was telling the truth, which I was. I ... just ... I mean, normally, I have a great read on Bones, but sometimes? There are things it's just impossible to tell what she's thinking about, or maybe I just get a complete mental block when it comes to the non-work two of us stuff. She apparently decided I was, because she poked me, hard, in the chest, looking me right in the eye.
"She told me, and I quote, 'Booth isn't interested in me that way, Angela. He's merely a chivalrous friend. He made it clear that's all we would ever be, after Cam was poisoned. He told me work colleagues can never be involved when we do what we do, although that was just a formality, a way of politely acknowledging that he knew how I felt, but that it wasn't going to happen, since I'm clearly not his type.'" Oh, God, that stupid line. What does she mean she's not my type? And what does she mean, I knew how she felt? I don't have a type any more, there's just Bones, I mean, I haven't been on a date in, well, pretty much since I drew that stupid line. Angela was still watching me, as I shook my head, then poked me again. "I also asked her why she thought you hadn't been on a date since forever, and she said she was sure that you had, because, and again I quote, 'Booth's a private person, and he was upset when I teased him about Cam and Rebecca, so he's just protecting his privacy. I don't have a right to know what goes on in his life outside work.'"
"Aaaaggghhh! I haven't had sex in a year and a half!" Oh, shit. Way to make sure Angela blackmails you forever, there. But she didn't laugh, and she just shook her head. "Neither has she," she replied.
"What? But... she... she goes on dates all the time!! And... I mean, Wexler was hounding her, and I mean, what man wouldn't, but ... she didn't, but I think she was being polite because she knew I didn't want her to, and, I mean, her and her biological urges!"
She shook her head again. "That's what I said. She said Wexler was a 'charming cad, but not sufficiently symmetrical and well-structured,' and then, Booth, then, she said," and again, she poked me, ow, enough with the poking, Angela, I've got it, I'm listening, "'I find myself concluding they're all beta males, which renders any latent biological urges null.'" Renders any latent biological urges null... oh, she doesn't want beta males, but that means... I mean, she calls me an alpha-male all the time ... and wait, she's called me symmetrical and well-structured, but ... wait, she wants me?
"What!! Why didn't she say something? I mean, how can she be so blind? And what does she mean she's not my type? How can she possibly think I was talking about anything except trying to protect her? Doesn't she know it would kill me if she got hurt? And how can she possibly think I don't want her? Aaaaagggghhh!" Yeah, way to keep your cool, there, Seeley. "Aaaaghhhh!!"
Angela snorted, before saying "You said that already. So the question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"I can't, the Bureau will break us up if we get involved."
Angela slapped me on the chest. "Ow! Jesus, Angela, knock it off! I could arrest you for assaulting a federal officer!" She slapped me again.
"You deserve it, you're an idiot. Did you ever actually look up the rule you've been using as a feeble excuse? Especially since you both can get shot as easily if you're not involved as if you are? Like it wouldn't already kill you if she got hurt?" She's right, it would, but ... still... I mean/
"No, I don't need to look it up! It's strict policy that Bureau employees who are involved romantically can't work on cases together. They can date, or be married, there are plenty of people who are, but they can't work cases together."
She was staring at me, like I was clearly missing something. "Bureau employees, Booth. She doesn't work for the Bureau. She works for the Jeffersonian. The rule doesn't apply to contractors, I checked."
"What?! You checked? What? Who? When?" Nice. Way to be coherent, there, tough guy investigator, there.
"I asked Sweets. Six months ago."
"You asked our twelve year old THERAPIST if Bones and I could get involved? SIX MONTHS AGO?" And you're just telling me now?? "AAAAGHHHH!"
She nodded, looking increasingly amused. "I did. And he said yes."
"WHAT??" Wow, sound really does echo well in here.
She laughed at me, then. "He said yes, there was no official policy barrier, and that so long as your working relationship with Brennan remains unimpaired, the Bureau wouldn't have any reason to object, especially because you two have the highest solve rate in the country. The country, Booth, by at least ten percent. He also said, and I quote, 'I can honestly say I have never worked with two such intelligent, talented, totally clueless people in my life. I mean, totally clueless, totally.'"
Oh, my God. Don't hyperventilate. You drew a line based on a policy you didn't even go back to read, you moron, and you knew it applied only to Bureau employees, and you knew she's not a Bureau employee, as if the fact that she stays in luxo-hotels every time you travel while you stay in Bob's Local Roach Motel wasn't proof enough, and now you've wasted a year and a half of time you could have spent kissing her, and ogling her openly, and closing the blinds in her office and shutting the door when she's arguing with you and backing her up against the wall so you can shut up her squint logic the way you've been dreaming about for four years now, and..
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHH! Where was her date taking her?" Good. Coherent sentences are good. Okay, stand up, Seeley boy, time to take inventory before you go stop that date, have you got your... wallet, check, keys, check, cell phone, check, weapon, check, fully clothed, check, raging hard on, definite check. Okay, Angela, stop laughing at me and tell me where the hell her date was taking her.
"Antoinetta's on K Street. Their reservations are for eight-thirty." Oh, bless you Angela. I could kiss you. In fact, I think I will. A purely platonic, thank God you're so goddamned nosy and meddlesome kiss. There, hah, that shut you up. Yep, even a platonic, no tongue, close-mouthed 'you just saved my life' kiss from old Seeley Booth still sets 'em reeling.
"Thanks, Ange."
"You're welcome," she murmured, looking slightly dazed. Hah. Can't wait to see how Bones reacts when I give her the 'screw the line and let's go home and go right to bed because I have four years of fantasies to get working on, now' kiss.
"Good luck!" she yelled, right before I burst through the lab doors on the way to the truck. Please, please, luck don't fail me now.
