Chapter 2: Casablanca
Once they were on the ground it took some time to offload the passengers and it was even longer before Brennan made her way to the front of the line at the Customer Service desk.
"I'm sorry," the man's head wagged wearily. "This storm has half the country shut down and there's another wave coming our way tomorrow."
"Surely you have accommodations for first-class passengers available?" she insisted, setting her platinum membership card for that airline down on the counter between them.
"It's not safe for the shuttle buses to make their hotel runs," he repeated his practiced speech, "and all of the airport's rooms are currently booked. There are food vouchers available and you'll have access to the first-class lounge, of course."
It was clear she wasn't going to get anything else, so she grudgingly accepted the vouchers, along with a map to the lounge. Weary and hungry from the long day, she turned around and made her way down the concourse as quickly as she could.
"Oof!" she collided with something solid as she came around a corner, sending her to the cool tile floor with a thud.
"I'm so sorry-" she began, accepting the hand that reached down to assist her, then looked startled as a face came into view. "Booth?"
"Bones?" his hands were under her armpits, hauling her to her feet, then wrapping her in a quick, tight hug.
"Was your flight waylaid here as well?" she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at the chance meeting.
"Nah," he waved a hand. "I had a layover here originally and my next flight is canceled until who knows when. Wait, why are you here? I thought you had a direct flight?"
"I did," she nodded, "but there were concerns about visibility so we made an emergency landing."
For a long moment, neither one of them knew quite what to say. Around them, the airport buzzed with the stagnant cacophony of people who should've been in transition but were going nowhere. Mothers paced back and forth with their squalling infants, trying to settle them, while younger children raced in and out of baggage that had been abandoned to the floor. Business men with loosened ties huddled over their laptops and PDAs, trying to act as if their plans hadn't been fully disrupted; teenagers stared with glazed eyes as their heads moved to music no one else could hear. Highly generic Christmas music blared through scratchy airport speakers as a father wearing a military uniform consoled whoever he was on the phone with that he would be home as soon as he could.
Someone slammed into Brennan, knocking her into Booth for a second time that night and jarring her from her reverie.
"Hey!" Booth called after the man whose back was already fading into the crowd.
She put a hand on his to stay any overreaction, "I'm fine."
He met hers eyes, his own still dark with annoyance as he tried to smile. They flashed with concern as they flicked down to her hand, noticing the thin line of blood that was forming.
"You're hurt."
She shivered at his gentle touch and shook her head, "It's fine. Just a scratch."
But Booth was already shouldering her bag along with his own and steering her away from the main throughway. Every chair in sight was occupied, but he managed to spot an empty corner where he quickly stowed their carry-on bags and refocused on her.
"Here," he lowered himself to the floor to join her, laying her hand in his lap as he unscrewed his water bottle and tipped a small amount into his handkerchief. She sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed it against the open flesh. "Just be glad this isn't alcohol," he spoke, trying to distract her as he gently wound the handkerchief around her hand and secured it.
"In Maluku I got used to having superficial abrasions," she shrugged. Gesturing with her free hand toward her bag she added, "I do have a small first aid kit with me."
"Of course you do," he chuckled, leaning back against the wall momentarily. "Want me to get you a band-aid, Bones?"
"This should suffice for now," she shook her head, inspecting his handiwork. "The design of these suggests it's old," she observed.
"Yep," he now chugged water from the same bottle he'd just opened. "Gram made 'em for Pops before he went off to war and when I joined up, Pops gave them to me."
A smile played on her lips as she envisioned a young Seeley Booth full of zeal and eager to serve his country. She wondered if his shoulders and chest had had the breadth they did now. If he had looked as good then in fatigues.
"Earth to Bones," a hand waved in her face, drawing her back to the present. Booth looked slightly concerned, but smiled when she finally looked up, "You zoned out on me."
"I did not!" the response was immediate.
"Uh huh," he sounded unconvinced. "So you heard everything I just said?"
"Maybe not everything," she admitted, but was quick to point out, "it is rather noisy in here, however." Her eyes avoided his and she looked down at her hands once more. "They suit you," she told him.
"Come again?"
"The handkerchiefs," she said as if he should know what she was talking about. "They fit well with your persona."
"My persona?" an eyebrow climbed up his forehead.
"Yes," she nodded, "along with the three piece suits, tailored shirts, your well-coiffed hair-"
"I don't like looking like a slob," he cut her off and she had to stifle a giggle as he ran a hand unconsciously through his hair.
"That's quite evident, though you really should consider wearing some sort of cologne," she told him. "Perhaps one that utilizes your body's natural pheromones?"
Trying to tell me that I stink, Bones?" he teased.
A teasing response was on her lips when they were interrupted by a group of restless children who had apparently decided to start a game of tag up and down the concourse. The oldest was no more than Parker's age and the youngest no more than two, and the pair watched, bemused, as the game progressed. The older ones, of course, had the advantage of greater reasoning ability, but the younger ones were able to slip in and out of small spaces and their unpredictable behavior often worked in their favor.
"Maybe we should find a safer place," Booth suggested when one of the boys came perilously close to crashing into them.
"Oh, yes!" Brennan perked up, suddenly remembering her original destination. "We can go to the first class lounge – Booth," she protested as he took her bags along with his own, "I'm more than capable of doing that."
"Humor me," he flashed her a charm smile.
"You should be hysterical by now," she muttered, following him nonetheless.
"What's that, Bones?" he asked over he shoulder.
"I was to humor you by informing you that I'd arrived safely, now I'm to humor you by allowing you to carry my bags," she half-grumbled. "You should be hysterical for all the humoring I'm doing."
"Ah, but you never did call me, did you, Bones?" He smirked at her non verbal reply, "Yeah, that's what I thought. So really, you owe me."
"I do?" she glared lightly at the triumph on his face. "What do I owe you?"
Before he could answer, his stomach did for him, emitting a low, long rumble.
"Hmm, Bones," his brown eyes filled with mirth, "how about lunch?"
