A/N: Huge thanks to jemb for the idea for this chapter. Okay, it was the only idea any of you gave me, but it's still great. Hope I can do it justice...
A/N 2: Just a note - B&B are no longer going to the coast in West Virginia because, as Bec helpfully pointed out, there is no coast in West Virginia. You'd think the name would give it away (what with West Virginia not being on the East Coast), but I'm clearly deficient when it comes to maps of any kind. I have altered Chapter 5 and they are now going to Maryland instead (which hopefully is on the coast.) Sorry about that.
Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, not mine, yadda, yadda.
Chapter 7 - Lessons
"Just a minute!"
Brennan's voice carried through the wooden door and Booth smirked from his position in the hallway. Why do women always take so long to get ready? he wondered in amusement. Doctor, anthropologist, best-selling author, and it still takes her hours. He glanced down at the black jeans, jacket and dark red shirt that'd he thrown on before arriving at her apartment at 7.30pm precisely. How can it take so long to get dressed? He sighed. She probably won't be wearing the right thing anyway. I'll probably end up going back in there with her and...
As the door swung open, Booth's mouth dropped open in surprise and he quickly changed his opinion on exactly what he'd like to go back in there and do with her.
Seeing his shock at what she was wearing, Brennan asked, uncertainly, "Is this okay?"
Booth nodded mutely, still astounded by her outfit. The deep blue dress clung perfectly to every curve, shimmering slightly as she moved. His eyes travelled down from the dark straps over her delicate shoulders to the teasingly low neckline, and then down to her hips where the dress hung loosely, allowing the light tassels on the hem to brush gently against her thighs. Lifting his eyes back up to her face, he spoke softly. "Bones, you look..." he shook his head and gave a slight smile, "Amazing."
The worry disappeared from her face and she returned the smile, relieved at his approval.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, slowly regaining his senses.
"I bought it today." He raised his eyebrows and she elaborated, "Well, I saw what people were wearing at the club last night and so it seemed reasonable that I would be expected to wear similar attire tonight. Nothing I owned filled the criteria so I bought this during my lunch-break."
"You didn't need to buy a new dress," he protested on principle. "We could've used what you have."
"Booth, you have enough on your mind without worrying about what I'm wearing," she said firmly.
Not wanting to admit that what she was wearing was the only thing on his mind at the moment, he quickly changed the subject, becoming more business-like, "I spoke to Mendez today and told him I was bringing you along tonight. He didn't seem to mind, but..."
"But what?" she asked, insistently.
Unwilling to discuss a confidential undercover operation in the hallway, Booth placed a hand on her hip and guided her into the apartment, closing the door behind them. He met her eyes and spoke earnestly, "Listen, Bones, I'm really not so sure about you coming with me on this."
"But we agreed!" she said in annoyance. "We decided that this was best. You said-"
"I know what I said, Bones," he interrupted, trying to regain control of the situation. "But that was before I spoke to Mendez."
"You just told me he didn't mind!"
"No, I said he didn't seem to mind."
She threw her hands up in frustration. "It's hardly much of a difference, Booth!"
"That's what I thought until I talked to Anderson this afternoon," he said, seriously. Getting no response from Brennan, he continued, "He told me that Mendez doesn't like bringing strange women out with the group. He doesn't mind us picking up girls when we're out, or taking ones that he trusts, but he's very suspicious of newcomers. Apparently he needs some kind of proof to make sure they're the "right type", whatever that means."
She nodded, understanding why he was so worried. "What sort of proof?" she asked, slightly afraid to hear the answer. "Couldn't you just vouch for me?"
"It doesn't work like that," he answered, grimly. "Especially since I'm still the new guy. I did try to find out what he wanted but no-one would tell me anything; Mendez just said I should meet them at the Silver Fox at 8 and bring my girl with me." Seeing her reaction, he added, "His words, not mine."
"The Silver Fox?" Brennan asked, studiously ignoring the "my girl" comment.
Booth looked down, uncomfortably. "It's off K Street somewhere. I've been once before with Anderson and Young." He met her eyes, almost wincing as he spoke, "It's a strip club."
Her eyes widened, but she replied calmly, "Do you think that's what he means by a test? See how I react to being in a strip club with you and the rest of them?"
Surprised by her reaction, he spoke uncertainly, "Uh, yeah, maybe. Knowing Mendez, I'd have thought it'd be something more, but you could be right."
"Well, we should get going then," she said, reaching for her coat.
She didn't get far before Booth moved in front of her, blocking her way. "Whoa, slow down there, Bones." When he'd got her attention, he said, gently, "You don't need to do this, you know. I know what you said last night, but I'm worried about you."
"I know you are," she replied softly, her eyes fixed on his, "But I'm worried about you too. At least this way we've both got someone looking out for us."
Slightly reassured, he nodded and said, somewhat reluctantly, "Let's go." Giving him a grateful yet anxious smile, she started to pull on her usual brown jacket but stopped when she saw a large grin spread across Booth's face. "I knew it!" he said, triumphantly. "You had me going for a minute there, what with that dress and the lipstick and those shoes, but I knew there'd be something!"
She looked down at herself, perplexed by his outburst. "What are you talking about?"
"You!" he said, still sounding smug. "You manage to go against every practical and sensible impulse in your body to get dressed up like this, with the high and the short and the low..." He gestured to her shoes, hemline and neckline respectively. "And you almost make it through the door in this risqué little outfit, but then you fall at the last hurdle." He gave her a cocky smile. "I knew there was a reason I was here."
He tugged the heavy coat firmly off her arms, while she tried to follow everything he'd just said. "Hurdle?" she eventually asked, confused.
Giving her a patient smile, he waved the coat in front of her. "Just couldn't fight those instincts, huh? We're going to a club, Bones, not the Arctic."
"I didn't want to be cold," she said, pouting slightly at his teasing.
"Well, that would be lesson one in how to blend in tonight," he said, slipping his own jacket off. "If you want something, you get it from your man." Flashing his most disarming smile, he slid the dark jacket around her shoulders with practised ease, before stepping back and looking at her. "Perfect."
"This is ridiculous, Booth," she protested. "It's not like I can't look after myself without a man to help me. Plus," she added, pointing accusingly at him, "You're going to get cold now."
The patient smile returned. "I am fully aware you can look after yourself, Bones, which is why I am giving you these handy hints on how to act like you can't. Plus," he echoed, mockingly, "Men don't get cold. It's a scientifically proven fact."
If it had been anyone else Temperance would have refuted the claim, but she instead settled for the sarcastic response, "What, does all that testosterone keep you warm?"
"Yep." He smiled broadly as he put his arm round her shoulders and led her out of the apartment, but couldn't resist adding, "It's great for getting ready on time too." She elbowed him playfully in the stomach as she moved to lock the door and he groaned in mock pain, "Lesson two, don't beat up your boyfriend in public."
She turned round to face him, her back to the door, and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so I can beat you up in private then?"
Booth gave her a wicked smile and said with a wink, "Not on the first date, Bones." Her mouth fell open at his comment, but before she could reply, he'd already started walking back down the corridor. She ran as quickly as she could to catch up with him, wondering why people who weren't undercover would ever choose to buy six-inch stilettos.
Sorry for the delay and the not-particularly-exciting chapter, but I've not written much for a few days so I'm getting back into the story. Next stop: strip club (suggestions welcome.)
Reviews are also welcomed...
