Hart: Well, Willie, we're at it again.
willgirl4: YEA!
Hart: Well, I'm glad to see your enthusiasm on the subject. I too, am so freakin stoked!
willgirl4: The word stoked makes me laugh!
willgirl4: But yea I'm excited too
Hart: what's wrong with the word stoked? I am stoked.
willgirl4: Can we tell them what happens with the big explosion?
Hart: Willie!! Shhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! makes zipped lip motion
willgirl4: Ummm...I mean...there's no explosion... and definately no angst...Willi looks wide-eyed and innocent
Hart: hart rolls eyes and turns to address readers Pay no attention to the girl behind the login...just read the chap! Enjoy!
For some reason, as was often the case with the pair, the talking had not lasted long. It had begun well enough in a controlled, well thought out, very un-Booth and Brennan-like volley back and forth of complaints and rationalizations. They didn't interrupt, didn't raise their voices, didn't even roll their eyes at one another for the better part of ten minutes. But the tension, not finding a relief with these usual outlets, began to build, and with it, came hostility. Then all it took was one well-timed sarcastic comment and an annoyed sigh for everything to go to hell.
"You are the most infuriating, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass, condescending, irrational woman I've ever met!" Booth thrust his finger toward her, one hand on his hip as they paced opposite sides of the coffee table.
Brennan's jaw dropped. "And you're the most pompous, pig-headed, overbearing, inconsiderate, un-evolved man I've ever met!"
"Well I'm sorry life with me has been such hell for you."
"And I'm sorry I speak in sentences with more than two syllable words since that makes it hard for you to understand. Of course, except when it involves strange mythical teachings about an all-powerful super being or the existence of an imaginary fat man who brings children presents. What are you going to tell Parker when he discovers you've been lying to him for his entire life?"
"Hey, at least I care enough to lie to him, we all know it would kill you to show a little compassion once in a while so why don't you just bite me, huh?" Booth shook his head, gritting his teeth hard as his temper flared and burned his blood.
"I'd rather hit you." Brennan retorted quickly, fully swept away by a rather hot temper of her own.
"Yeah, well, that makes two of us!"
"Then why don't you do it? Hit me Booth." Brennan challenged, jutting out her chin.
"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you? Then you'd have proof that I'm just one more brainless male looking to assert my dominance just like you always said I was."
"What the hell are you talking about? I could incapacitate you in three seconds flat, just take a shot at me and I'll show you." She raised her voice, more irritated at his sudden silence than his counterarguments. "You would do it if I was a man."
"If you were a man we wouldn't be having this conversation." Booth muttered.
"That's because two men can't hold a conversation for more than two minutes without it turning into a grunting match and an alcohol-induced brawl over whose penis is longer." Brennan crossed her arms defiantly.
"Why don't you go just menstruate?" Booth snapped, momentarily stunned that he'd managed to come up with the word on the fly like that. Brennan, however, didn't miss a beat.
"Why don't you go masturbate to a Playboy, because that the only "action" your going to see for quite some time."
"Oh, oh sure. How'd I know that was coming?" He threw his hands into the air and turned, stalking off to the bedroom.
Brennan was right behind. "What? How'd you know what was coming?"
"Nothing, Temperance. I just always knew you were more fond of dead people bones than a real live boner. Nothing a man can do for you that you can't do for yourself, right?"
"No, nothing you can't do for me that I can't do for myself. And no one said anything about you being the man."
He pursed his lips as they twisted into a bitter smile, shaking his head and moving to his own side of the bed. "Wouldn't want to make that assumption would we?"
"What are you doing?"
"Going to bed Bones, contrary to popular opinion, we cavemen do prefer soft mattresses to hard rocks every once in a while." He huffed, pulling off his pants and shirt.
"No, you're taking the couch." Brennan responded vehemently.
"Like hell I am. This bed is just as much mine as it is yours." He flopped down onto it to illustrate his point, turning to his side and facing the wall. "Either deal with it or feel free to make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'm sure you and Mr. Lay-Z-Boy will be very happy together since he doesn't have a mouth or a penis."
Brennan pursed her lips, about to respond when she realized it was probably pointless and, while she still felt she could take him in a fight, she didn't really want to try it right then.
"Fine." She yanked off her clothes, glaring a hole into his back the whole time. She dropped down onto the bed, clicked off the lamp and jerked the covers up to her chin, turning to face the window, trying to pull as much covers away from his side of the bed as she could. It was a long time before either slept, determined not to touch the whole night through.
---
Booth woke earlier than normal the next morning; fights with Bones usually did that to him. She was still in the shower, but wouldn't be there for long. He knew part of her precious routine was to be out of the shower and getting dressed by 6:35. He rolled out of the bed and rubbed his eyes before deciding to get ready himself, using the spare bathroom down the hall.
He was knotting his tie when she emerged from the bathroom, a little startled to see he was already up and dressed, but didn't comment.
They didn't speak at all at first and studiously avoided one another's eyes, refusing even to touch if their routines required that they cross paths in the bedroom they shared. After he put on his socks and shoes she saw him slip quietly from the room and noticedthat it was barely seven. Quirking an eyebrow, she followed him to the kitchen, half dressed in only a pink lace bra and black dress pants.
"Do you have an early meeting or something?" She asked, knowing her tone was more demanding than it really needed to be.
"Nope." Was his simple answer as he fixed his coffee, apparently not caring to divulge his reason for his hasty pace. He could tell by her tone that she had her hands on her hips and turned around to see if he was right. When he looked at her for the first time that morning, he was hardly surprised to see not only her hands on her hips, but that she'd chosen to wear his favorite bra the day after she swore he wasn't going to be allowed to touch her for quite some time.
His apathetic expression put her more on the defensive than a snappy retort most likely would have and she crossed her arms stiffly, her frown deepening.
Booth saw her breasts being pushed up and together until they were nearly overflowing from that damn bra and he was convinced she was doing it just to torture him. Finding the mix of boiling anger and intense arousal flowing freely through both his heads a bit disturbing, he broke eye contact to pick up his coffee cup. He pushed his gun into his holster, shoved his badge into his waistband and picked up his suit jacket, all while being fully aware of her watchful blue eyes following his every move.
"Coffee's ready if you want some." His voice fell flat and hard against her ears as the front door shut behind him. She held her defensive stance for a moment longer and then sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. She was aware of the anger thinly veiling the hurt she felt as she realized this was the first time he'd left for work in the morning without a 'goodbye' kiss. Even as she did she felt silly for feeling that way, but couldn't seem to quell it.
With a deep breath, she threw back her shoulders and marched back to the bedroom to finish getting ready. If nothing else, she would use this pent up anger to fuel her in what would undoubtedly be a productive but very long day.
Booth stood outside the apartment door for five minutes, arguing with himself about whether or not to go back in. The rational part of him told him he didn't want to go to work for the first time without a 'goodbye' kiss, and he didn't want to leave home angry. But the emotional part of him said he was still upset, and wasn't quite ready to forgive her or himself for the things said the night before.
In the end, the emotional side won out, and he left the building, heart heavy, head hung low.
Remember, Willie and I love you guys, so if you love us too, drop us a line! (even a very short, one word, emoticon line...) :-)
