Snapshots from DC

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: The anthropological definition of phenomenology is how an individual reactions to the experience of being in a physical landscape. A series of short random one-shots with B&B on the move in the District.

A/N: For those of my regular readers to whom this bit of info might be useful, you'll be happy to know that the first chapter of the sequel to "Costly Signals" - entitled "Cognitive Dissonance" - has been posted. It is available under the wonderful dharmamonkey's profile. So, yeah, go forth, read and enjoy. :)~

Ch 2: Because of the Traffic Cameras

A blare of several car horns echoed through the air behind Booth's black Toyota Sequoia SUV. Brennan looked over at him from the passenger seat, a slightly condescending look on her face as she said, "Well?"

Booth, completely unaffected by her look, responded, "'Well', what?"

Folding her arms, Brennan said, "Why didn't you go?"

"Oh," Booth said, instantly knowing what she was talking about. "Wasn't going to risk it, Bones."

"Why?" Brennan asked.

"Because," Booth said. "You know what a pain in the ass it's been since they installed traffic cameras a few years ago. And, it's October, Bones. That means every protestor and his buddy are in the prime mood to go and picket something, whether it's protesting at the Supreme Court or camping out in MacPherson Square at that little encampment they've got as a part of that Occupy DC crap. Bottom line is that there's a lot of people here that aren't normally here, and a lot of them are either on foot, in those annoying tour buses, or —God help us —in a rental car, and, they don't know how in the hell they're supposed to drive in the District. So, I'm not taking any chances going through a light—"

"That had just turned yellow, Booth," Brennan finished the sentence for him. She eyed his critically as she said, "You could've made that one. Easy."

"Nope," Booth said. "Not taking any chances."

"Why?" Brennan repeated. "What's the real reason?"

The pair currently sat at the intersection of Pennsylvania Avenue as they were getting ready to turn onto Constitution Avenue. Brennan watched Booth for a minute as he remained silent. She could tell he was holding something back, hiding something from her, and it made Brennan even more curious and insistent to know what it was that Booth didn't want to tell her.

"Come on, Booth," Brennan said. "I know you're holding up on me, so swell!"

Booth looked at Brennan, uncertain if she realized the mistake she had made. Her expectant look telling him that she hadn't, Booth shook his head and gently corrected her. "That's 'out', Bones."

"Out where?"

"You know I'm holding out on you, not up," Booth said. "And, it's spill — not swell." Booth shook his head again. Only Bones would confuse *that* particular metaphor, Booth thought wryly, thinking about the fact that his partner had just ordered him to swell. Umm, yeah, Bones. That's one of you're better ones. Geez—

"Whatever," Brennan said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Stop evading the question, Booth."

Looking over at her, Booth sighed. Brennan knew he was close to caving, and so she pushed just a bit more.

"Come on, Booth," Brennan said. "I'm going to find out eventually, anyway, so you might as well just confess. We both know that having first-time visitors drive in DC is nothing new. It happens all the time. So, what's the real reason you stopped at the yellow light?"

Booth again shot her a glance and said, "Fine, Bones. You win—"

"Excellent," Brennan responded, as she sat back in her seat, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. "So, continue then—"

As they waited for the light to turn green, Booth quickly mumbled, "A couple of weeks ago, I was late to pick up Parker, and I might've —purely on accident, ya know, uh… I might've run a red light."

The smile on Brennan's face when from triumphant mirth to excited glee. "You ran a red light?"

"And, got my ass chewed out for it when the traffic stoolies reported it to the Hoover when they ran my license plate, and it came back that it was a federal vehicle, okay? Instead of sending me the damn ticket in the mail, it got flagged to the office when they asked who happened to be assigned to drive the black Toyota Sequoia, and I got reamed," Booth grumbled. "So, for the next few weeks, I'm not taking any chances." He stopped, and glanced at Brennan again. "Happy now?"

Brennan, stopping herself from sniggering, said, "Yes." She then paused for only a few seconds before she said, "Hey, Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"You know, perhaps until it's okay for you to operate the SUV in your normal way, perhaps I should drive from now on?" Brennan asked, her eyes twinkling at him.

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Not gonna happen, Bones."

"But—"

"Nope," Booth insistent vehemently. "That's just not gonna happen, Bones. So, yeah—"

-TBC-