Brennan shook her head. What even started her thinking about this?
"Yeah, I don't want that." Booth said as he held the door to the Tahoe open for her. She cocked an eyebrow at his gesture. "What, Bones? Your dress seems kinda, um, tight. . ." He cleared his throat and a little color rose to his cheeks. "I wouldn't want you to mess anything up trying to climb into this big car without help, that's all." She shook her head again, but with a pressed-lip smile. Then she thought about what he had said. "What do you mean you 'don't want that'?" she asked, as he took his familiar place behind the wheel. "You wouldn't want to go on a date with me?" She kept her tone playful and light, but she felt like maybe she should be wary of starting this line of questioning. Was this dangerous territory?
"Well, as I recall, the last time we went on a date, you shot me."
Brennan paused, momentarily dumbstruck. They had never been on a date. What was he talking about? Oh! "That wasn't a real date, Booth! I was just saying we could pretend we had been on a date. And not even us, Clark Kent and Wonder Woman. And just to explain why we were so disheveled! And you dropped me on my head!"
Booth chuckled at her defensive response. What even started him talking about this? "I'm just saying, you know Cullen. He is going to be watching us all night. So now I am going to be pretending to listen to a lecture that I don't want to hear, given by a man I don't want to be in the same room with, sitting at a table with a man I don't want to be watched by during my personal time." He realized that he sounded annoyed, which made sense since he was complaining, but at the same time, he wasn't exactly unhappy about the situation. Hell, if the only good point all night was watching the smooth muscles of Bones' back flex as she shrugged on her coat earlier, the evening wasn't a total loss.
Neither had anything specific to say at this point, and they passed a few minutes in their usual pleasant-but-slightly-tense silence. "Well, if you really don't want to go, this is the time to back out. We're here, and. . ." She looked down to reach for her ringing cell phone. Booth's went off at the same time. "Brennan," "Booth," they said into their respective receivers. Their eyes met, both serious to receive news, but maybe just a little relieved. As they each clicked their phones shut, Brennan smiled and Booth practically beamed, "saved by the. . . body."
"Cullen told Cam at the table, so they called us at the same time, not realizing we were together." Brennan said, thinking that the last three words sounded odd. Was that the wrong way to say it? Booth turned to her, and she felt (more than saw) him look her up and down. "Like I said earlier, Bones, you look amazing, but I think that's more of an evening look, and we're going to more of a. . . well, an unpleasant occasion."
"What about you? I mean, I love your 'flashy' ties, but bowties generally aren't your style." He chuckled. She was right. Bowties weren't his thing. He got the purpose of the tie, and the bowtie was thoroughly unsuccessful at it. "Well, I'll stay clear of any mess; it's more that dress that I would be worried about." Why did that make his temperature rise? He was just talking about not wanting her to get her clothes dirty. Why did he care?
She interrupted his jumbled thoughts. "I've got a duffle bag in the back with some jeans and tops – after the last case when my jeans got ripped when I climbed over that fence, I thought it would be a good idea to keep some spare clothes in here."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. You've got some spare, uh, undergarments in there too, not that I was snooping. You shouldn't just put stuff in my vehicle without telling me. I almost called the bomb squad, until I saw the little dolphin on the zipper pull." He remembered finding it, and yes, he snooped gleefully. She laughed and said, "well, you weren't exactly supportive when I ripped my jeans. Something about 'deserving it, working a crime scene in pants that tight,' wasn't it?"
Booth groaned his response. The woman had a memory like an elephant with a grudge. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, Bones, but you did look kind funny with a big rip right at the crease between your leg and your. . . did I mention I really liked the butterfly print? It was classy." What he really remembered was how she refused to stop working in the damn things. She just kept on processing the scene, bending over, squatting down, leaning into the truck to grab a clipboard. All things she really shouldn't do when a few inches of porcelain skin was exposed through a crack right at a very revealing area. He had a hard time swallowing just remembering, and he now put together why he choked on that coffee last week when a butterfly landed on the ledge outside his window.
"Shut up," she said, pushing his arm. "It was laundry day, so it was either those or nothing." Booth tried to hide his gasp with a cough - or one led to the other, whatever. Brennan wondered what she was supposed to have done. She knew that some of the cops at the scene had been unsuccessfully hiding laughter and appreciative remarks, but a hard stare from Booth had quieted even the most blatant of them. Not that his looks hadn't been just as flustering. She hadn't really needed that clipboard, but he was right there, standing against passenger side of the truck, and she hadn't been sure before that if he had even really noticed. When he bumped his shin and cursed as he made a gawky attempt to straighten up and turn around, she knew he had.
When they reached the park, the young agent already there greeted Booth and began to explain the current findings. When Brennan walked over to them, the agent stopped and whistled appreciatively. Booth slapped him on the back of the head. "Be polite!" he gruffed. "Sorry, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, you look beautiful, but this is a messy one. . ." he said in a concerned and confused tone, rubbing the back of his head. "I have a change of clothes in the car – is there somewhere I could go?" The agent pointed to the public restrooms and Brennan walked back toward the car to grab the bag. The agent looked over at his own female partner as Dr. Brennan walked away. "Why don't you ever dress like that for me?" he asked with what he seemed to think was an appropriately lascivious grin on his face. She slapped him on the back of the head and stormed away. He looked at Booth, who just shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at Bones disappearing into the bathroom. He grinned and took the case file from the agent.
Alright, what do you think? Where do you want the story to go? Is there any good character development here? I'm trying to keep things loose, but I was contemplating jumping into some crime-drama here. If you'd like to see that (or something else), let me know and I'd be happy to try some different things out!