Note: I woke up to 10 reviews yesterday. That was awesome (and a big part of why I spent last night on the first draft of this).
Thanks to 7, HarrissBoBarriss, sleeplessinatlanta, felixlee14, Chestnutlass , angrockman13, and River for suggestions for D.
The (awesome) suggestions were:
dog, dagger, death, disease, decay, decompose, drums, dodge ball, dubious, divorce, deception, domesticity, domestic dispute about dishes, diapers, dalliances, daffodils, dead body, definitive, darkness, dolphins, drawing/doodle, deleting, dirt, dancing
Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians, and I hope everyone's having a good weekend.
Disclaimer: I don't own them … which is good, 'cause I don't have to actually write any case-related stuff.
Relationship status: Partners. Probably late season 4 (before the brain tumor).
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Unlike some people, I've never dreaded Mondays, but this day was trying to change my mind.
Parker had stayed with me that weekend. We had a great time - we went to the zoo, went out for pancakes after church, went to the park and played football, and had fun hanging out.
This morning, though, wasn't so much fun. Parker was sluggish and didn't want to get out of bed. Once I got him moving, I rushed to get his cereal ready and ended up spilling the milk all over the floor. Without milk, cereal was out of the question, so I put some bread in the toaster and started mopping the floor.
Of course, I forgot about the toaster's recent disinclination to actually pop the toast up when it was done toasting, and the toast burnt.
On to plan C. I bundled Parker up in his jacket, made sure he had his backpack with his homework, and stopped on the way to school to pick up breakfast.
As I was sitting outsider Parker's school waiting for him to finish his breakfast, Angela called. She had finished the sketch of our most recent victim.
No problem, the Jeffersonian was between Parker's school and my office. I said I'd stop by on the way to work.
I got Parker into the school, then headed back to the truck. That's when I discovered the flat tire.
I changed the tire, getting grease on my shirt as I did so. I'd have to go home to change after I stopped by the Jeffersonian. With the way my day was going, I'd be lucky to be at work by noon.
I dropped the punctured tire off to be fixed, then headed to the Jeffersonian.
The parking structure was mostly full, so I had to park on the roof. The security guard was new, so I had to go through the whole process of explaining who I am, showing my badge, and letting him verify that I was allowed to carry my weapon into the Jeffersonian. Eventually, he finished the sign in process and I headed to the Medico-Legal lab.
When I got there, the platform was deserted. The lights in Bones's office were off, so I headed to Angela's office.
Of course, it wasn't my day – she was nowhere to be found either. Luckily, there was a sketch pad sitting on her desk. I flipped through it, assuming that the sketch I was looking for would be the last one in the book.
For a minute, I thought I was seeing things. I slowed down, turning the pages more slowly.
I had been right the first time. That was definitely a drawing of my partner.
That wouldn't be that remarkable – Angela picks up a pencil and starts sketching when she's bored.
No, the remarkable part was that this was a naked drawing of Bones.
I'm not sure how long I gaped at the picture. I finally managed to drag my gaze away from it when I heard voices in the hallway.
Of course, given the way this day was going, I should have known who was going to walk through the door. Naturally, it was Bones, talking with Angela about her latest date.
I wanted to give up, go home, and go back to bed until tomorrow. Tomorrow had to be better, right?
Of course, the thought of going to bed brought my mind right back to the picture.
I must have looked stunned, because Bones broke off the story of where her date had taken her for dinner to say, "Booth? Are you OK?"
It was hard for me to look her in the eye, so I glanced over to Angela. That was a mistake, because Angela was looking at the sketch pad on the desk and grinning.
I knew I should say something, but I couldn't think of the right words.
Bones looked concerned, and said, "You look flushed. Do you have a fever?"
I jumped back three feet when she reached to put her hand on my forehead.
Somehow, Angela managed to keep herself from giggling as she said, "Sweetie? I think Booth looked through my sketch pad."
That didn't seem to clear things up, because Bones asked, "So? Why would that be a problem?"
Angela opened her mouth to speak, but I spoke up before she had a chance. I hadn't realized how strongly I felt about what I'd seen until my hand hit Angela's desk and I was shouting, "Why would that be a problem, Bones? Are you aware of what is in this sketch pad? I was looking for a sketch of the victim, and what did I find? A picture of you! And you were…." I waved my hand in the general direction of her body.
That didn't seem to help her. She still looked puzzled, so Angela stepped in. "Bren, the picture I drew of you – the one you posed nude for a couple of weeks ago? That is in this sketch pad."
Bones still looked confused. "So? Why is that a problem?"
Angela grinned. "It's a problem because now Booth is thinking about you naked, Bren."
For some reason, that seemed to cause Bones pain. I couldn't understand why, until she said, "Oh! Booth … is thinking about me naked. And that's a problem, because he finds me unattractive."
Apparently, even geniuses have their off days.
Without even thinking about it, I spoke up, "No, Bones, you're beautiful. You know I think you're beautiful."
She shook her head. "No, Booth, I know you don't think about me that way. You think I'm an awkward, socially mal-adjusted geek. You've been very clear. It's OK. We're partners, you don't have to be attracted to me."
What? How could she think that? Apparently I'm better at hiding my attraction to her than I thought.
I glanced over at Angela, who was glaring at me by now. I nodded towards the door, hoping she'd leave us alone. She rolled her eyes, but she left.
After we were alone, I walked over to Bones and grabbed her hands in mine. She determinedly stared at our joined hands, but when I said, "Bones? Look at me.", she looked up.
If I wanted to wipe that look of hurt off of her face, I had to be honest. I just had to hope that our friendship would survive.
I pulled her over to Angela's couch. When we were both seated, I angled my body towards hers and said, "Bones, seeing the picture wasn't a problem for me because I find you unattractive. It was a problem for me because I find you very attractive. Yes, you don't always say the right thing, but you always care. You're the one I spend most of my time with, because you're the one I want to spend most of my time with. I'm in love with you. It feels like I've been in love with you forever. And when I saw that picture, I … I've dreamed of seeing you naked, Bones. And to see that picture, and then have you walk through the door? It was a bit much, that's all.
"I don't know if you feel the same way I do. It's OK if you don't. We're partners, and friends, and it's OK with me if that's all we ever are. I want you to be happy. But, if you ever think that you want more, please tell me, OK?"
Almost before I finished talking, her lips were on mine.
I don't like to admit how often I've thought about our first kiss. (Yes, we kissed when Caroline blackmailed her. That was awesome, but it didn't really count. I wanted her to kiss me because she wanted to, not because she was being blackmailed by a puckish prosecutor.) I've wondered if any kiss could live up to my imagination. This kiss? It was better. Eventually, she pulled away and smiling, said "Do you want to go for dinner tonight?"
A date? With Bones? Did she even need to ask?
I smiled at her. "Yes. Yes, I do. I'll pick you up at 7, OK?"
She nodded, then stood, saying "Go to work, Booth. I'll see you tonight."
With that, she left the office. Looking through the glass door, I saw Angela intercept her half way across the platform.
I was at my desk before I realized that I never did get the sketch of the victim from Angela – and my shirt still had a grease stain on it – but somehow it didn't seem like such a bad day after all.
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Any thoughts for E? Evasion, elephants, eggplant, error, eyeball … ?