A/N: Here it is, the new chapter. There is just one more, it should be up by the weekend. Again, this fic was inspired by the song "Wait for you" by Nelly Furtado (I love the indian beat!!!).
Disclaimer: Don't own Bones or the song.
Chapter Two: Strange Reasoning
Not in a lifetime, that's more likely, she thought again as she dropped the pen on her table. Sighing, she rested her face on her open palm, grateful for having cold hands.
Brennan got in her lab at the exact time she planned to. She always took pride in the way she kept her life neatly organized, maintaining her balance over the FBI cases, the Limbo remains and her writing. That balance was disturbed when she started working with Booth and it was gone the minute she realized she had feeling for him.
With the harmony broken she found herself lacking sleep because of hours spent writing until the sun came up. She would work on the Limbo remains at the weekends while most of her time was still occupied by the cases Booth brought.
No use trying to write, she thought as she closed the blank document, the cursor still mocking her with every blink it took. Her editor was not pleased, but she was even less. Her mind had no trouble working before. Now, everything was a reason for her to be distracted. Sighing again, only this time in frustration, she threw her pen across the room, landing on the couch.
In this particular Friday morning Angela was feeling good. The sun was bright, the wind was blowing softly, and the next day was Saturday, and she had every intention on spending her entire weekend in bed with Hodgins.
When she stepped through the glass door of the Jeffersonian the sterilized air swept over her, cooling her skin. It was a very good thing that the lab had air conditioning, because otherwise Angela would do her work sitting in the shadows at the garden behind the buildings. Gladly, her office was almost chilly every morning when she got there.
Dragging her flip-flops through the lab she almost tripped over a young man carrying a pile of files as she twisted her neck to make sure she wasn't seeing things.
Temperance Brennan was not someone who daydreamed. She was always alert, always focused on the task at hand. So it was very surprising for Angela to find her friend with her chin resting on her hands, her eyes dull and unfocused, staring at space.
"Scary," she murmured before stepping into the office, "Hey sweetie," she said from the doorway. Brennan didn't even move a muscle, didn't even blink. "Bren?" she called out, taking a step closer to the desk, "Bren?" she said louder, and the anthropologist jumped in her chair, her eyes wide, her hand flying to her chest, calming her still beating heart.
"Jeez Ange, ever heard of knocking?" said Brennan as she adjusted herself in her chair, looking for something to occupy her mind.
"Since when do you care if I knock? You never cared about that," said Angela, sitting herself in front of Brennan.
"Well, you scared me. I was distracted," said the anthropologist, still trying to look busy. Rolling the cursor in the screen of her computer she opened the same document she spent her morning staring at.
"That's just it. You don't do that. I have never seen someone getting the jump on you. You're always alert," said Angela. Brennan seemed uncomfortable in her chair, so Angela knew she was on the right track.
"I'm just tired, is that a crime?" said Brennan, trying to sound offended. If she had any hopes that a trick would work on Angela, the artist killed all of them.
"Don't give me the offended tone, I know you better than that. Now spill," said Angela, crossing her arms under her breasts.
"Spill what? I'm not holding anything," said Brennan, a look so innocent on her face that Angela had to fight the urge to slap her own forehead.
"It's an expression, honey. It means talk," she said, her smile genuine, "Something is obviously bothering you, you're not like yourself," Angela said, noticing the way Brennan was biting her bottom lip. Good, she thought, she's considering telling me.
The anthropologist looked up, studying her escapes routes. There were none. Angela was looking at her intently, her eyes piercing Brennan's. Blowing a long sigh, something she did a lot in the morning, her resolve melted away. It was now or never.
"Okay, but you have to promise me you won't scream or do anything like that," before Angela could get anything out of her already open mouth, Brennan lifted her hand, signaling her to stay silent while glaring at the artist, "I mean it Angela. One shriek and I'll kick you out of my office."
"Fine," said Angela, pouting like a five year old, "I'll be quiet. Cross my heart," she said, making a cross over her heart with her fingers.
"I don't know what that means," said Brennan, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Give me strength God, Angela thought as she rolled her eyes at Brennan, "Just spill, honey."
"Fine," Brennan said, getting up from her chair to sit beside Angela on the other chair in front of the desk, "A few months ago I realized something," she said, her eyes focusing on the glass table as if it was so interesting.
"Okay, what did you realize?" asked Angela. Brennan seemed to be backing away from her so she put a hand over her arm, a look of understanding on her face, "It's okay sweetie, you know you can tell me anything," her voice was as soft as cotton, and Brennan felt secure, protected.
"I…" somehow the words just wouldn't leave her mouth. It was best if she did this like ripping off a band-aid, "I'm in love with Booth. There, I said it," saying this was hard, but after it was out there, Brennan felt lighter than a feather. Looking at Angela she fought the urge to laugh at how hard the artist was pressing her lips together, "Fine Ange, one squeal."
And at that Angela squealed, jumping up and down, "Finally! It's not news for anyone, but to hear you admitted, that's just… Finally!" she said, while doing what Brennan assumed was her victory dance. When the artist stopped jumping and sat on the chair again, her cheeks were flushed and her face was glistening with sweat.
"Are you done?" asked Brennan, the corners of her lips arched up in a discreet smile.
"Yes," Angela said, putting her hands on her lap to show herself as a good girl, "Go on."
"Thank you. So where was I?"
"You were saying that you love Booth, and that you want to marry him and have his babies," said Angela, earning a slap in the arm, "Right, shutting up."
"As I was saying, it happened a few weeks ago. I realized that I had these feelings for him," Brennan said, avoiding Angela's eyes.
"But you haven't done anything about it?" asked Angela. Brennan wasn't usually shy when it came to men. If anything, her friend was always too blunt.
"Well… it was something Booth told me once. He said that everything happens eventually. He said that I had to give it time, that I had to be ready. So… here I am, waiting," she said as she sat back on her chair.
"Waiting for what?" asked Angela confused. Wait for what? They took two years to get to this point, how could they need more time?
"He's not ready Angela. I know Booth. Every time I bring something like this up, he gets uncomfortable and defensive. He's not ready, but I'll wait," Brennan said, her voice so soft that Angela felt a pang of sadness in her heart. For how long would she wait?
"Okay sweetie, just answer one thing. For how long do you plan on waiting? Because I don't want to see you trapped in this platonic affair for too long. You have to live your own life."
"I know Ange, but for now I can wait a bit longer. I'm a patience woman, and he's worth it, isn't he?" there was a glint in her eyes that Angela never saw before, and that glint made her smile.
"He is sweetie, but don't wait too long, okay?" upon receiving her nod, she continued, "So, how do you know he's not ready? I mean, not to offend or anything, but you're not good at reading people."
"But I am good at reading Booth. Besides, he said something that makes that fact crystal clear even for someone bad with people," said Brennan, letting out a small chuckle.
"What did he say?" asked Angela, her curiosity peaking.
"He said he never had a relationship like this," Brennan said.
"But that's cute, and very sweet," said Angela, not really understanding why that would prove anything.
"He said that's because he thinks we're like two guys, except I'm not a guy," Brennan said, fully registering Angela's shocked expression.
"He said you're like a guy to him?" a little bit more and her jaw would touch the ground. At Brennan's affirmative nod, Angela started laughing, "Is he insane or just not so bright? How can you tell an attractive woman like you that you consider her to be like a guy? That's just stupid."
"I told him that, if I followed his reasoning, then he was essentially a woman to me," said Brennan, a malicious smile on her face. Angela started laughing again.
"Nice one, Bren. Besides, if he thinks of you as a guy, than I hate to be the one to say this, but he's gay," and at that they burst out laughing.
"What are you two talking about?" a voice came from the doorway and both turned to be greeted with the image of a casual looking Seeley Booth. Wearing a black T-shirt that said "Give me my space" and a pair of faded jeans, he looked better than ever with his boyish smile.
"Just guy's stuff," said Angela. Brennan laughed harder while Booth just looked completely confused.
"Okay," he figured it was best to just let it go; Angela had a tendency to say the most strange things, "So how are you two lovely ladies doing today?" he threw in the charm smile that he knew made hearts melt.
"We're just talking," said Angela, her voice casual as she turned on the chair, "So what are you up to this Friday? Big date?" she asked, and Brennan almost chocked on her own saliva.
Smooth, Brennan thought, very smooth.
"No date. Just me and my television," Angela smiled even wider; he looked like a lost puppy, begging for shelter.
"Why don't you go out with us? We were planning on going to this new club," said Angela, excited.
"We were?" asked Brennan innocently.
"Yes, we were, remember?" said Angela, her eyes wide and bright, trying her best to get her message through.
"Right, I forgot. The club," even thought she had no idea of what Angela was talking about, Brennan just decided to trust her friend. She knew what she was doing, or at least she hoped she did.
"Are you sure? 'Cause I don't want to intrude on a girl's night out," said Booth, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands shoved inside his pockets.
"I'm sure; it's not a girl's night out. Jack and Zach are coming too, and so is Cam. Come on, it'll be fun," she was pouting now. Booth looked from her to Brennan as if getting permission.
"You really should come with us, Booth. Have a night out with us squints," Brennan said. At her words the smile on Booth's face got impossibly wide.
"Okay then. Where do we meet?" he asked, rubbing his hands together, "And where are we going?"
"It's a new Indian club that opened up downtown. It's pretty exclusive, but Jack and Brennan can always get us in," Angela didn't even tried to hide her excitement.
"That's true," Booth smiled. Brennan could always get into VIP places with her famous status, and Jack was just richer than God.
"Okay, so you can meet us at 8 by the club. It's at 1350, Okie Street. You'll find it easily," said Angela.
"Then I'll be on my way. Just came by to drop these," and saying that he placed the files he was holding on Brennan's desk, "I'll see you latter," sending Brennan a very warm smile Booth turned his back and walked out of the office.
"I gotta say Bren, I don't know what is better; to watch him come or go, 'cause they both provide such great views," Angela was almost falling off her chair to admire Booth's retrieving back. Brennan laughed as she threw a piece of crumbled paper at the artist.
"Have I ever told you that you're not a very subtle person?" asked Brennan.
"What? I did that for you. You need to get your man, I just gave a little nudge," for the look of innocence in Angela's face you could actually believe that she was being serious, but Brennan knew better.
"And what club is this? You know what happened last time we went to one," said Brennan, her tone serious now.
"Don't remind me. I can still fell the headache. It's a club I found. I was actually going to ask you to go with me," said Angela.
"Why? You know I'm not very good in these places," self-consciously she started to play with the hem of her top.
"The name of the club is Garbha." Bingo, she thought as she saw Brennan's head snap up.
"That is very interesting," Brennan said, her smile never betraying her new found excitement.
"I thought so too. I knew you would like it. They have clothes there for us, so you only have to worry about the hair and make-up."
"They have clothes there?" That's odd, she thought.
"That's why it's so exclusive. You can dress up in a silk sari and learn the real Indian moves," Angela smiled at Brennan mischievously, "Not that you need to learn anything."
"That is really interesting. The boys won't like the whole costume idea though," Brennan said. At that Angela got up from her chair so quickly she got dizzy, "Are you okay Ange?" asked Brennan.
"Yeah, I just remembered that I have something to do," said the artist as she straiten herself up, prepared to leave the office.
"What?"
"Well, now I have to convince Jack, Zach and Cam to go with us, then I have to pester Jack to get us in" and out the door she went, "Love your guts sweetie, doing this for you" and she was gone.
What would Brennan do without Angela?
Sitting herself back at her chair in front of her computer Brennan couldn't fight the smile on her face. That night promised to be very interesting.
Looking at the screen she clicked on the open document and was pleased to see her fingers typing away, her mind finally unblocked.
Maybe today, she thought as she typed, maybe.
Just one more chapter, people, so hang in there. As I always say, reviews makes me write faster, so leave me your opinion, your ideas, tell me what you want to see next!!! Any thoughts on the Indian club?
Kisses...