A/N : Hey everybody! Thanks so much to those who reviewed the former chapters. I'm happy to present you chapter 2! Hoping you'll have a good time reading.
Chapter 2 – It's about time
Saturday, January 5th
"Daddy, the meat is burnt!"
Booth couldn't help letting out an annoyed sigh at the pout his son gave him while he lifted the bread which crowned his home-made hamburger.
"Told ya, we should have gone to Mac Donald's."
Despite the exaggerated, disgusted grimace which didn't leave his face, Parker had to be really hungry for he took a bite of his hamburger and started to chew slowly.
"Hey Bud, you could at least pretend that your father's cooking is edible when I spent so much time preparing these hamburgers," Booth complained.
On purpose, he composed a hurt look, which immediately had the expected effect on Parker.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," the little boy said with his head slightly tilted to the side, before he took a bigger bit of his hamburger, without making a face this time. "Uhm… Yummy!" he lied, his mouth full, with an obvious forced smile.
Staring at his son, Booth immediately forgot his annoyance. His pink cheeks and the cute look he was giving him made him so funny and irresistible that he burst out of laughing in spite of himself.
"Don't exaggerate, Buddy, uh? I know my cooking has nothing to do with your Mom's. I just thought it'd be nice to spend the evening here, you know."
Parker shrugged. "Well… It's not that bad," he admitted with a smile.
Booth felt himself filled with bliss, pride and tenderness all at the same time. His little boy was growing up so fast. He never stopped amazing him. He wished he could be with him every day, watch his very progress, share his joys and his slightest sorrow; see him every morning, kiss him goodnight every evening. The phone was never intimate enough, and the weekends were never long enough. He just wished his son wasn't raised by strangers, but that was life, and he liked to think selfishly that he was Parker's only masculine role model.
"Can I ask you a question, Daddy?"
Startled out from his thoughts, the FBI agent realised that he had stopped eating although the hamburger was still in his hands. He took a bite before answering, thinking the steak wasn't as burnt as his son claimed, after all.
"Whatever you want, Bud," he answered with his mouth full.
"Are you in love with Bones?"
All right, wise guy. Anything exceptthat. "What?" he almost choked.
"Do you love Bones?" Parker repeated louder, emphasising each word.
Booth stared a moment at his son's wide, innocent eyes, forced to the conclusion that unfortunately, he had heard him well the first time.
"Now where does that come from?" he asked with a half-amused, half-nervous laugh.
His obvious awkwardness and the crimson colour that might have flushed his cheeks weren't unnoticed by his son who giggled teasingly.
"C'mon Dad, you can tell me. I'm grown up now! I'm six and a half!" he said, sticking out his chest, acting important.
"All right then, the answer is simple: No I'm not, and why would you even think that?"
"Because of how you looked at her the other night," Parker retorted seriously, screwing up his eyes in a funny way.
"The other night?"
"When we brought the Christmas tree for her," the little boy explained as if it was obvious. "You were looking at her exactly like Brent when he looks at Mom. And he says he loves her, so I figured out that you—"
"Well, I don't," he cut him off.
"—are in love with Bones," Parker finished his sentence, like he thought it was really cool to say these words.
"No," Booth replied firmly and he ate some more of his hamburger, hoping this would help hiding his embarrassment.
"And when you wished her a merry Christmas, it sounded like Brent when he's wishing Mom goodnight," the child went on, apparently not ready to drop it yet.
Booth rolled his eyes. "No, I—Wait, what?"
"You said it like that 'Merry Christmas, Bones'," the little boy tried to imitate his father, pantomiming him on the phone and looking in the distance.
Booth let out an indignant chuckle. "What are you talking about, I didn't—"
"I don't mind, you know. I like her, she's nice. And she has to be smart since she's a doctor, right?"
"Right, she's smart," Booth admitted.
"And beautiful."
"Righ— Parker… Your meal is going to be cold."
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm okay with that."
Once more, the priceless, serious look his son gave him made him laugh in spite of himself. "So now I need your approval for this kind of thing, uh?"
"Yes, you do."
"All right. Well, Bones, you know, she's my partner, and we work together," he explained. "I like her, as a friend, but I don't love her. Understood?"
"I guess so," he said sheepishly. Booth wondered whether he was disappointed about his theory being wrong, or because he secretly hoped that Bones would soon become his stepmother.
"Good. Now finish what's on your plate."
"Okay," the little boy sighed sadly as if the hope of his life had just been dashed, and he stuck his fork in his salad. But instead of bringing the food to his mouth, he raised his head and looked at his father shyly. "It's just that when you're with her, you seem happier."
Booth held his son's gaze, stunned. Parker had grown even faster than he had thought. But could a six-years-old actually understand this sort of thing? Or was he merely proving that out of the mouths of babes and sucklings comes the truth?
"No, Buddy. It's with you that Daddy's happiest, okay?"
The child beamed.
"You wanna go get an ice cream?"
Parker's smile grew wider, if it was even possible, and he put his knife and fork back on the table. "Oh yeah!"
"All right then, but on one condition."
"Okay," Parker agreed as if an ice cream was worth anything to him.
"When you see Bones again, don't mention anything of this conversation to her, okay?"
"Why?"
"Because it's… embarrassing."
"Why?"
"It's a grown-up's thing."
"Okay," the little boy finally gave in.
"Not a word to anyone?"
"Not a word to anyone," he confirmed with a mischievous smile and a finger on his mouth.
"Great," Booth grinned and rose. "You get to choose the place."
Camille Saroyan finished applying mascara on her long eyelashes. A cloud of perfume, and she was ready. Her reflection in the mirror left her satisfied. She had a date, tonight. It was about time. Her good resolution for 2008? A stable relationship. Of course, she was aware that it would take longer than one single date, but it was worth trying. The man she was about to have dinner with was a surgeon; someone she had met at a convention. A handsome African-American in his early forties. Smart, of course. Wealthy, probably. And funny. Funny was quite important. Sounded like the perfect man, but at nearly 38, she had lost her illusions—though not hope.
One thing was for sure: It was about time she decided whether she wanted to have children or not, it was about time she started to think about her future, and most of all, it was about time she stopped messing around. Most of her past relationships had been mere fun, and she had done her best never to lose her independency; now, she wasn't sure it was what she still wanted. Maybe she was ready to jump off the edge with someone now, after all. Anyway, she was ready to give it a try. If she found the right guy, good; if she didn't, then it would mean that it wasn't the right time. She had always been a realistic person, but she had always been an optimistic person, too.
Anyway, she was determined to follow through with this resolution; she had even settled some rules for herself. One; never to date younger men anymore. Just because. Two; to avoid carefully possible relationships at work. It was a big mistake. Three; fall in love. Definitely. The last time was such a long time ago that she was afraid she forgot how it felt. However, she knew someone who definitely knew how it felt. Her co-worker, ex-lover and good friend: Seeley Booth.
She let out a quiet laugh, picturing in her mind the way he looked at this woman. And the way he acted, as if nothing was going on— priceless. It was sometimes hard to keep herself from smiling, or more. She wondered whether it was possible that anyone had failed to notice it yet. It was so obvious—except for the persons most closely concerned, apparently. She wondered how long it would take for those two to realise what was going on between them. Not that she was exactly thrilled at the idea of yet another couple in her working environment—how many times had she threatened Angela and Hodgins with a bucket of cold water—but she couldn't help wishing the best for her good friend. And obviously, the best for him was a beautiful forensic anthropologist named Temperance Brennan. Of course, a relationship at work is never easy. It makes or it breaks. But it was possible. And whoever said that a relationship between such different people couldn't work was an idiot.
She adjusted the edge of her classy black dress and wrapped herself in her long, warm coat. After a last glance at the mirror and replacing a lock of hair behind her ear, she left, hoping that at the very best she'd find the man of her life, or that at least, she'd have a good evening.
He remembered this day as if it was yesterday. Just a random school day for most of his schoolmates, but for him, the day when he had asked Sasha Miller to go to the prom with him. Not some random girl, but the coolest, cutest girl of his class. Well, gorgeous was more appropriate.
"Hey Sasha, look, I think that Weirdo is coming in our direction."
"He's staring at you."
They thought that he couldn't hear their murmurs, that he couldn't see their grimaces. He always did. He was aware of everything. He was also aware that he'd get a no, but a bet was a bet, and the twenty bucks which he was about to win would complete the amount of money he was saving to go to university.
The girls held their breaths—and their laughs—as he came closer and stood right in front of Sasha. He ignored them; he just looked at her. She didn't laugh at him right away. She waited, her hands on her hips, with this haughty attitude that rarely left her. She waited, curious to hear whatever the freak needed to tell her. He asked it very fast, all in one breath, as if it was something he had learnt by heart. "Sasha, will you go to the prom with me?" And only then, she burst out laughing, and the others joined her.
Suddenly, she stopped laughing, and asked, "It's a joke, right?"
"No."
"Is it some kind of game, then?"
"No."
She had been staring at him, as if she didn't believe her ears. Then, she had shaken her head, and she was about to answer something when he had arrived. Brad, her boyfriend, the captain of the football team. That was so cliché. She had turned around, beaming at him, and he had wrapped an arm around her thin waist.
He had been able to hear them talking as they were walking away, followed by the bunch of giggling girls.
"What's with Weirdo? What did he want?"
"You'll never believe it. He asked me—" A laugh. "He asked me to go to the prom with him!"
Yes, Sasha Miller had been a gorgeous girl, and fifteen years later, she was still stunning. But beauty, such as life, is ephemeral. He liked to think that he had been the last one to touch her, and he liked to know that he had been the last one to look at her. It was about time he set things right.
As his eyes lingered on the huge black plastic bag in which she was now lying, her beauty, such as her life, now gone, he realised that he felt better. Liberated and satisfied. Though a little angry at himself. He had been too kind with this one. He had let himself give in to pity. He regretted it, now. It wouldn't happen again.
A/N : Thanks for reading! Please leave me a review, it'll make my day ;) In next chapter, coming next Friday, there will be a nice and funny Brennan/Angela moment. Have a nice week-end and hooray for the return of Bones!
