Chapter 4: Dinner and a Dunce

From the way she was handling herself, no one would've been able to tell just how nervous she had been coming in and Booth felt special for being privy to that side of her. When they'd entered, a waiter who looked like a human penguin in his tux showed Booth and Brennan to their seats at the head table and invited them to mill around the room until the festivities officially began.

Hungry from the light lunch they'd eaten earlier, Booth helped himself to the hors d'oeuvres as the servers came around, though he turned down the alcohol for the time being. He downed the food as fast as he could and went in search of his date.

Fortunately for Brennan, the first group of people to solicit her attention was the core team of scientists she would be working with for the next year. The group was composed of two women and four men besides herself; all of whom held at least two doctorates and whose disciplines ranged from anthropology to odontology.

By the time Booth found her she was deep in conversation with a guy who was maybe a little younger than her and obviously hanging on every word she said, and a bookish woman with a really bad overbite. Brennan laughed at something the guy said, making the jokester's face light up like a Christmas tree and Booth decided it was time to introduce himself.

"Hey, Bones, how's it going?" he asked, slipping an arm around her waist while trying not to seem too possessive.

"Booth," her smile was radiant and went all the way to her eyes.

"'Bones?'" Mr. Brown-Noser looked at Booth like he'd just called her something vulgar or crass.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, meet Drs. Victor Arnold and Judy Riker," Brennan started making introductions, hoping to smooth things over. "Dr. Arnold is our cultural anthropologist and Dr. Riker's specialty is entomology."

"Like Hodgins?" he asked.

"Jack and I went to grad school together," the other woman smiled in answer to him, offering a firm handshake. "And it sounds to me like you and my husband would hit it off well: he calls me 'Bug.'"

By this time the rest of the elite squint squad had taken an interest in him and more introductions were made. Neither Caleb Rush nor Drew Leaver- the team's historian and odontologist, respectively, were the kind of guys Booth would want to grab a beer with, but Brandon Cole, the archaeologist, seemed pretty normal, and so did the soft-spoken biologist, Sue Grey.

"And what is it you do, sir?" the British Rush asked Booth.

"I'm FBI," Booth answered simply, fingers itching to flash his badge but stopping short.

"Ah," the man nodded, looking down his nose. "You'll be handling our security operations, then?"

"Booth is the Special Agent in charge of the Major Crimes division in DC," Brennan all but leapt to his defense, making him feel a little bit better about the squint interrogation that he was stuck in, "and is currently serving as an instructor at Quantico. He and I have been partners for the last five years and our solve rate is thus far unparalleled in Bureau history."

"I see," Rush pursed his lips, clearly still unimpressed.

The other men were equally unmoved, though the women both nodded their approval.

"He holds a master's degree in literature from Georgetown as well," Bones went on, "and is a published author in that field, as well as a co-author in several of the leading forensic journals."

She probably would've kept going, but a bell-like chime sounded, announcing it was time to return to their seats for the meal.

"What was all that about, Bones?" he half-whispered as they made their way back across the room.

"It was clear some of the men didn't wish to respect you so I gave them grounds to," she shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Since when am I a published author?" he prodded.

"You published your master's thesis, didn't you?" she asked and he nodded mutely. "And the work we've done together has been published as well."

"Awful loose interpretation of the truth, there, Bones."

"It served its purpose."

"It was kinda hot too," he whispered in her ear as he tucked her chair into the table.

"Behave," she hissed back, though her eyes were shining with a hint of mischief.

Booth smirked, but kept quiet, setting in for the inevitably long pre-dinner speeches, almost all of which were directed at Brennan; thanking her for her willingness to lead such an important endeavor and so on and so forth. He could read in the minute shifts of her eyes and straightening of her posture that she was uncomfortable with so much attention being focused on her and was once again reminded that while she was extremely sure of who she was and her abilities as a scientist, she preferred to work in the background rather than have everyone staring at her.

After what seemed like an endless half hour it was her turn to give a speech. Her confident voice carried over the crowd easily and even though her speech was mercifully short, it was the most well-structured one of the night and he felt proud to be her guy. There was a round of applause as she sat down, then a moment of respectful silence, and the food was served.

The salad, Booth had to admit, was decent and the rolls were hot and fresh, but Booth's pot roast was dry and tasteless, and the chicken Bones gave him from her plate wasn't much better. He was glad he had filled up for the most part earlier, and thankful for the loaded baked potato that helped take any remaining edge off. In the past he and Bones would always end up at the diner after the fancy dinners were over and he was praying that here they could find a place that was open all night once they left.

The head table, unlike all of the others in the hall, wasn't round so there was not as much conversation taking place there; nor was Booth exactly sure what he would've said anyway since he was surrounded by scientists. That was just as well because it gave the pair time to debate exactly how Booth should be introduced for the rest of the night.

She nearly killed him when she suggested- quite earnestly- that she could call him her lover and once he'd gotten everything he'd been eating back down the correct pipes he'd quickly nixed the term, saying that it made it sound like he was paying her for something. On the other hand, she shot down calling him her boyfriend, claiming that was a term more suited to someone in their twenties, not pushing forty.

By the time dessert was served, they'd settled on "partner," not only because it was a term they were familiar with, but because that's what they were whether they were working together professionally or not.

"What about 'domestic partner?'" she wanted to know just as he put in his last bite of pie. "We are living together after all."

"That would only work if you were a guy too, and you aren't and I'm not gay, so no," he waved her off with his fork.

"So just partners?" she clarified.

"Well," he grinned slyly, "there's nothing 'just' about it, but yeah. Besides, people back home never bought that we were just partners anyway. Though if Vicky over there asks we're planning a wedding for June and discussing whether we want three kids or four."

"Vicky?" she looked at him, confused, then followed his gaze down the table. "Oh, you mean Victor Arnold?"

"Yup," he faked a smile at the blonde man who had waved when Bones turned in his direction.

"You feel threatened by him?" her brows knit together.

"Nope," he shook his head. "But I don't trust him, either. He was way too friendly with you even after I came over. You saw how upset he was that I called you Bones, didn't you? And he knows I'm not anywhere near in your league, but he is."

"Why would you say something like that?" she was taken aback.

"Bones, in the time it took me to get my master's you already had three doctorates and my guess is Vicky's IQ is closer to yours than mine," he laid out the facts for her. "Trust me, he doesn't see me as anything more than your boy toy who he can easily replace."

"He was just being polite," she insisted.

"He's Daisy without the impulse-control issues."

"Booth!"

"It's true, Bones," a smirk curled up his cheek, "His nose is that brown he'd probably beat her hands down."

"Now you're just being petty and crude," she scolded, then relented when he intensified his gaze. "Fine. If Dr. Arnold attempts to put a hit on me-"

"Hit on you."

"Whatever," her glare told him he was skating on thin ice. "I will inform him that I am perfectly content and satisfied in my relationship with you- the man I live with. The man I love."

"Aw, I love you too, Bones," he flashed her a charm smile and pressed a kiss to her hand.

Before they could say any more, she was called on to meet some donor or another and off they went. He trailed her around the room, pressing the flesh and making small talk with people who made more money than he would ever see in his lifetime.

Beside him, Bones was in top form. She'd done her homework, apparently, because she called each and every person they met by name and had at least a cursory knowledge of what they did for a living and the rhetoric she needed to give them on the Foundation's behalf was amended accordingly. Sure, she wasn't perfect, but it was clear that she was a lot better at this sort of thing than she gave herself credit for and he knew she didn't really need him there no matter what she claimed.

Just when we was sure he couldn't fake one more smile or shake one more hand, they met up with a group of agents from Quantico who had been invited as a courtesy. It turned out that Booth and Brennan's partnership was something of a legend at the FBI academy and they'd come with an invitation for the pair to guest lecture together at an upcoming seminar.

Bones politely promised to check their schedule, but when it was time to move on, she insisted that Booth should stay and enjoy himself. No matter how bored he was he didn't want to abandon her, but there was a stubborn edge to her eyes and voice so in the end he pecked her on the cheek and told her to knock 'em dead.

His eyes never strayed far from her for the first several minutes, but soon the guys offered to get him a drink and it wasn't long before he was relaxed and swapping stories with them. He didn't look up again until the live band came on and the dance floor started to get busy. Scanning the crowd for the only woman he wanted to dance with, however, he found that she was surrounded by a large group of important-looking people and he knew she wouldn't be free anytime soon.

One by one all but the two married agents he was with made their way to the dance floor. He contented himself for a while, nursing his beer and admiring her from across the room, but eventually that wasn't good enough and he excused himself and went to her.

"You holding up okay?" he asked quietly when she'd finished with yet another cluster of patrons, offering her the glass of wine he'd gotten on his way over.

Her, "I'm fine, Booth," wasn't very convincing and he didn't know how she was managing to stay on her feet in those heels for so long.

They'd barely said hello when Marcie, the girl assigned as Brennan's personal aide on the project, came up to let her know there were a few reporters on hand who wanted a group photo of the seven main scientists, as well as a brief interview with her.

This time it was Booth's turn to step in on Brennan's behalf and he assured Marcie they would be over in a few minutes. When the partners were on their own again he suggested she take a couple of minutes to finish her drink and maybe head to the restroom to freshen up before they joined the others. To his surprise she agreed without a fight and when they in the hallway to the bathroom she leaned into him for a long moment.

"You're doing great out there," he encouraged, spanning her shoulders with his hands and kneading the tight muscles he found. "How much longer do you have to stay?"

Her shoulders shrugged halfheartedly as she rolled her neck to work out the kinks. "I'm not certain. I know after these journalists we're supposed to meet with at least three other groups and I believe something was said about doing a live interview for the local news."

"Need me to duck out and sneak in some real food?" he asked, knowing she'd eaten even less than he had during dinner.

She shook her head, "We can go somewhere afterward presuming we can find a place that's open. I'll be alright, Booth, honestly."

They exchanged a weary smile and stepped apart, then headed into the separate bathrooms. Somehow she beat him out, but she looked a lot more relaxed than she had before and was ready to take on the rest of the night.

There were more than just a couple of reporters waiting for her when they joined the main crowd again and the "few" snapshots turned into a full-blown photo shoot, plus the live news interview. Marcie was good at her job, though, and made sure that the reporters didn't monopolize any more time one-on-one with Brennan than she had allotted them.

"One of those yours?" a burly man with a full beard and a broad smile asked Booth.

"That one, Temperance Brennan," Booth nodded in Bones' direction and smiled. "You?"

"The one on the end, Judy Riker," he answered, throwing a wave at the bug lady Booth had met earlier, then offering Booth his hand. "I'm her husband, Will."

"Seeley Booth," he introduced himself. "You from around here?"

"New York," Will shrugged, "so it's not so bad. You?"

"DC."

They talked back and forth about the sports they watched, and the teams they rooted for, and how bad the food at dinner had been. Booth figured it couldn't hurt to get to know the guy since they'd be doing this kind of stuff together all year. Will was a freelance writer, which was why the move south hadn't been hard on him, and before that he'd be a sports columnist so the list of athletes he'd met and stories he had to share was vast. Still, after an hour and a half of making small talk, they both started wondering if they would ever be allowed to leave.

Judy was released first, since she didn't have to give as many interviews as Brennan and the couple bid him goodnight and made a bee-line for the door before anyone could tell her she had to stay. Bones wasn't that lucky for as soon as the reporters were done with her, she was whisked away to some big-wig who apparently had his checkbook out and was waiting specifically to talk to her.

This time instead of hanging back, Booth stepped up right beside her and rested his hand on her back in such a way that she could subtly lean on him for support. Patiently and politely, Brennan answered all of the man's questions, though more than once she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and the fire that had been in her eyes earlier in the night had cooled. Finally, the guy made a big show of writing his fairly decent sized check and then released them.

"Dr. Brennan, if you don't mind-" Marcie started to say.

"Actually I do," Brennan spoke up, surprising them all. "I will be more than happy to meet with anyone else who wishes to talk with me during my office hours." Having said her piece, she then turned from her aide to Booth, "Are you ready to go home?"

He nodded, unable to hide the smile when she all but grabbed his arm and hauled them away from the small cluster of people who still remained. They collected their things from the table and their coats from where they'd checked them and headed out to the car.

The early June night was crisp and clear and the stars twinkled brightly against the velvety sky. Brennan inhaled the fresh air deeply and leaned up against him as they paused to take in the view. He looked down when she seemed to slip several inches, then chuckled when he realized she'd taken off her heels.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, leaning her head back against his shoulder, "You have no clue."

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding them that they hadn't had anything decent to eat in a long time. With him walking on the sidewalk and her in the soft, cool grass they made their way back to the valet pickup and collapsed into the SUV when it was pulled around.

"I miss the diner," Booth said, pulling out onto the vacant street. "Look, it's almost midnight and I really don't feel like driving around until we find someplace that's open. Unless you want to."

"I want to go home," she told him plainly.

Just her use of that word in reference to them sent a thrill through him and he smiled warmly at her and nodded. She wasn't quite asleep when they pulled up to the house, but in no time at all she'd gone in, stripped off her fancy clothes, and was back downstairs rooting through the fridge. Too tired to bother with the stairs, Booth slipped off his shoes, jacket, and tie, loosening several of the buttons on his shirt too. Two or three buttons turned into four or five and at that point he decided that he was done with the thing for the night and took it completely off, leaving only his undershirt. He shucked the stiff pants too and scrounged through one of his boxes until he found a pair of sweatpants.

By the time he'd finished, Bones was coming out of the kitchen carrying two plates full of food and he intercepted her as they made their way over to the couch. In tandem they set the plates down on the coffee table and sank into the soft leather, just sitting there for a long moment before starting in on the food.

It was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich Booth thought he'd ever had in his life and he told her so. She laughed. There wasn't a lot of chatter as they ate, though at one point he did get a drink order from her and they toasted the glasses of cold, frothy milk before drinking them down. The coo-coo clock chimed one as they dragged themselves up the stairs and into bed.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to dance," she said, tucking her body into his as the darkness enveloped them.

"You were a busy lady," he wrapped his arms around her snugly and kissed the top of her head.

"Still," she yawned, "I wanted to as well, you know. You're a very good dancer."

They both quieted, each one thinking about the last dance they had shared- at her high school reunion- and how awkward it had been despite the fact that they had ended up nearly fused together by the end of the slow dance.

"When you don't leave room for the Holy Spirit, that is..." she baited him.

"Mmm, no room for Him now, is there," he growled softly in her ear.

She giggled as he flipped her over, pinning her to the mattress underneath him. He planted a trail of kisses from her shoulder, up her neck, across her jawline, and finally ending at her mouth. Their lips teased and tugged at one another, deepening for a bit, then pulling back slowly until they were simply spooning together again. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he would get his dance with her one way or another.