Her interviewer was far too perky for her tastes.
"World renowned Forensic Anthropologist, one half of the best crime solving team in America, best selling author, wife, mother." She was still getting used to those last two being tacked on to her list of accomplishments, as they were lately. "How do you do it all?" the woman asked, eyes wide, hair bouncing as she moved.
Brennan cleared her throat. "With very little sleep."
The woman laughed, pleased that she seemed to be getting some sort of joke out of world famous Dr. Brennan, who, every one knew, was extremely serious and literal in interviews.
What she didn't know was that she was, again, being literal.
Brennan went on. "I write late at night, after my daughter is asleep. It's the only time I have to write. So when I want to write, I simply give up sleep."
Her interviewer laughed again. "Isn't that the plight of mothers everywhere! What about the rest of your jobs? How do you balance your career at the museum, your work with the FBI, being a wife-"
"Being a wife is not a job," Brennan interrupted. "It should not be considered a job. The notion that women have to take care of men is highly outdated from an anthropological standpoint, at least in a culture such as our own."
"Well you have to make time for your husband in your life, don't you?"
"I spent most of the day with him."
"Oookay," the woman said, losing some of her perkiness. "Moving on."
It looked like her interviewer had enough of her already.
Afterwards, Booth approached her with a kiss to the forehead and a "Hey."
"Do not lie to me and tell me that went well," she stated immediately.
"See, this right here is why she said marriage is work." He pulled her into his arms.
"No, she meant work like I have to cook you dinner and wash your socks."
"She meant work like compromise."
"Compromises are not work…"
"Work like when you agreed to have a Baptism for Mads? That was a compromise that took a lot of work."
"No, that was a logical decision."
He lowered his voice to a whisper. "What about the mind-blowing sex, huh? That's work."
She rolled her eyes and laughed despite herself. "Hardly. I mean, yes – physically. But that's not what she was talking about."
"Time consuming," he countered. "It takes time from your other jobs. And whew, last night? Took up a lot of time."
"You seemed to be enjoying it."
"I was," he clarified quickly. "But that's time that you could've been writing…."
"I need some inspiration before I write," she teased him, loosening from his grasp and heading towards the exit.
"Ah ha! I knew it! You do write about me!"
"I do not."
"You just said…"
"That does not mean I write about you."
"It's me. I've always known it's me."
"You know what? Maybe it is work after all."
