Chapter 3: Catch 22
To Booth the airport seemed to go on forever as they made their way to the first class lounge that Brennan insisted was the best. Nothing but fiercely blowing snow was visible through the miles of windows looking out onto the tarmac and Booth shivered at the thought. Occasionally, the wind would die down and he'd peer through the falling snow looking for the planes, but thus far he'd only seen white. Years of experience left him bracing himself for a long wait and uncomfortable sleep for at least one night, maybe even two depending on when the storm calmed down.
While the storm raged outside, inside it felt like all of Chicago had descended on the airport and then some. Gate areas like the one they'd met in were stuffed to the gills and the people who hadn't staked out a spot there were strewn along the long corridors. Not for the first time Booth was glad Parker had flown with Becca a few days before, not envying the throng of parents attempting in vain to rein in their restless kids.
"Here," Brennan gestured at an opening off to the side.
She led the way in and as soon as the sliding doors closed behind them it was as if they'd stepped into another world. Outside of the quiet strains of the "Nutcracker Suite" playing in the background, there was no noise to speak of. A cheerful woman at the front desk greeted them and took the various cards Brennan retrieved from her pocket.
"And you, Sir?" the woman asked, her smile wide, eyes just slightly flirtatious as her blond hair swayed from side to side.
Suddenly Brennan was at his side. "He's with me," she spoke before he could answer. "My partner, Seeley Booth."
The girl was no slouch and immediately was all business. She took Booth's ID, issued him a visitor's pass, and instructed him not to wander off without Brennan. That, Booth mused quietly to himself, was not going to be a problem as his partner had effectively attached herself to his side and was currently dragging him into an elevator. It took everything in him not to laugh or react when the doors opened to the elevator car and revealed several very attractive, sharply dressed, business women, all of whom took stock of him and smiled their approval; some more overtly than others.
Beside him Brennan went stiff at first, then looped her arm inside of his possessively. As much as he wanted to tease her, he could see a few of the women trying to tell just what his connection to Brennan was, and took pity on her.
He turned his body so that his full attention was focused on her and asked just loudly enough to be overheard in the tight quarters, "How's your hand doing, Baby?"
If she noted the different endearment she said nothing, but nodded, a small smile on her lips as she quietly thanked him. Just in case any of the other women still harbored any doubts, he slung his arm around Brennan's shoulder as he had a thousand times before in the past and almost instinctively she leaned into him, not separating until the doors opened to the floor she wanted.
His mouth nearly fell open at the opulence of the room. Rich, deep leather chairs were scattered throughout a wide open sitting room and rounded couches were tucked into the corners beside low coffee tables and warm lamps, creating an intimate feel. Off to the one side there was a circular bar, and according to the marquee there were office spaces, conference rooms, and a kid's area available as well.
"It's not too full," he commented, noting that there were enough people, but not nearly as many as they'd seen in other parts of the terminal.
"Maximum capacity is 700," she shrugged one shoulder, "though you'd barely notice it given there's over 3,000 square feet in this facility."
Booth let out a low whistle, "Wow."
"I've been stranded here once before," she told him. "Once official business hours are over, cots will be made available as well as blankets and pillows. We should be able to wait out the storm in relative comfort."
"Is there food?" he looked around, assuming there had to be something somewhere.
Her nose crinkled slightly, "It's not what it should be, but the lounge that offers the more superior food through this airline is much smaller."
"Figures," he smirked, then turned to her. "So, um, what do we do now?"
B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B
An hour later they'd had their fill of small snack foods that were provided, along with sandwiches that were slightly stale.
"Want anything else to drink?" he asked, gathering up the trash to throw away.
She handed him her trash and nodded, "Coffee's fine. We can go to the bar later if you'd like."
"You get free drinks too?" he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.
"A few," she nodded, "but they have a wide selection of drinks for sale as well and I'm paying."
He shook his head as he stood up, "You paid for lunch, Bones, and you really didn't have to do that."
"I want to," she told him, a note of finality in her voice.
As he walked across the room to dispose of the trash she leaned back in her chair and sighed quietly, wondering how to address the money issue without offending Booth's sensibilities. He'd gone to claim one of the corner couches for them while she'd purchased the food and she doubted he knew how much she'd had to pay for what little they'd eaten. It was of no concern to her but it would be for him and she didn't want that.
"Thinking deep thoughts, Bones?" his voice pulled her away from her internal debate and she looked up, shaking her head.
She opened her mouth to give a witty reply but froze, noting yet another attractive blond woman who was ogling her partner. Not that Brennan could blame her too much. While certainly not the most well-dressed man in the room, Booth was easily the most attractive. He'd shed his leather coat along with the sweater he'd been wearing almost as soon as they'd sat down to lunch and as he joined her once more, Brennan couldn't help but notice the way his biceps rippled underneath his black, Philadelphia Flyers' t-shirt.
"Bones," his voice was softer now and she jumped at his light touch.
"I think that woman wants to have sex with you," she blurted out.
"Bones," he hissed as heads turned throughout the room and the woman made a sudden bee-line for the bar.
"It's true," she insisted.
"Bones," he was pleading with her.
"More than likely it's a good match," she babbled on, try desperately to divorce herself from the jealousy she'd felt since they'd entered the lounge. "She's well put-together and her clothes suggest she's a successful, professional woman-"
"Bones," now his voice was more stern as he tried to cut her off.
"No, Booth," she shook her head. "You should go get that woman's contact information. I don't mind."
"Well maybe I do."
"You shouldn't. You're single. She's single."
"I'm not interested in her, Bones."
It would've been easier for her if his voice hadn't been tender, his eyes not full of compassion with a pointed look that told her exactly who he was interested in. But that just made her more flustered because for as much as she'd changed since that cold October night in the rain, she was still unsure about some things. Still angry about others.
"Well perhaps you should find some way to save her life, Booth," the anger won out and she stood up, utterly composed despite her ire. "Isn't that the way you fall in love now?"