A/N: Well, the support for this story has been amazing and so . . . it continues. This "reveal" is in response to suggestions from JAG'ed Bones in the Casket, Sillygyrl8, SBX MomX, and that oh so prolific reviewer, Guest. Hope it continues to entertain.
A/N 2: There are a number of really GREAT micro-fics being written right now thanks to the Bonesology Hiatus challenge. This isn't one of them - I felt loquacious and got a little carried away, the end result not looking anything like what I set out to write. Every time I sat down at the computer, the words that appeared on the screen bore little resemblance to what I intended starting out. Go figure. Thought I'd share anyway. So, grab your popcorn and beverage of choice . . .
. . . And, as a gentle reminder, this story (including this chapter) is rated M.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Bones related except my imagination.
THURSDAY, NOONISH
Daisy Wick entered the cafeteria in the Student Center at American University and spotted two of her fellow classmates and colleagues from the Jeffersonian Institute, Wendell Bray and Colin Fisher, already seated together at a table which looked over the courtyard below. Heading their way, pony tail bouncing behind her, she approached their table and plopped her heavy books down on top with an exaggerated thump next to an empty seat before collapsing into it.
Most of the interns that helped out in the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian were graduate students at the university and somewhere along the way, they had also become friends of sorts. Unlike many of their other classmates, the interns felt united by their common cause – the pursuit of justice for those who fall victim to life's unexpected cruelty. Because of the intern shift rotation system at the lab, they rarely actually worked together at the same time but they'd all had first-hand exposure to the ugly consequences resulting from people hurting other people. That common ground made them feel bonded together in a way not everyone else could appreciate.
On top of that, the interns extended interaction with the esteemed Dr. Temperance Brennan left many of their classmates envious. Dr. Brennan was irrefutably a favorite teacher for all the students. Her lectures were exciting, often incorporating personal stories of her own travels and adventures into the oration, and she was well reputed as a patient yet thorough mentor to those who managed to capture her attention. The biggest complaint from most of the university's students was that they wished she was a full time Professor and not just a part-time visiting consultant. However, the college was willing to take what it could get, recognizing how sought after she was, her precious time already divided amongst several careers.
Dr. Brennan's interns were viewed as the crème de la crème by their classmates and their unsolicited elite status was yet another reason they tended to gravitate together in the academic environment.
"Uuugh," Daisy moaned loudly and with enthusiasm towards her two companions. "I have so much homework to do this week for my ANTH-635 class on Race, Gender, and Social Justice and the Professor assigned Billy Mitchem as my partner for a report we have to do by the end of the month. Can you believe that? Billy-worthless-Mitchem."
Looking at her with sympathy in his eyes, Wendell tried to offer her a little comfort. "C'mon, Daisy. Billy's not all bad. Once you get past the fact that he only showers about once a week and he lacks much in the way of personal motivation, he usually does okay. You just need to prod him and guide his efforts a little more than most other folks. That's all."
Daisy just rolled her eyes and snorted while pulling her lunch bag out of her back pack. "Really, Wendell? You are welcome to work with him instead of me then."
"In his own unique way, Billy's actually quite impressive," Fisher chimed in. "Everyone knows he's only in graduate school so he can continue to party on his father's dime without having to earn his own way. You almost have to admire the way he always seems to be perfectly balanced on the cusp between academic achievement and abysmal failure."
"He's not even cute," Daisy whined. "At least if he was hot, I could entertain myself with some good fantasies while we're working together, but Billy just gives me the heebie-jeebies." Sighing at her misfortune, she found herself musing out loud. "I wonder what it would have been like to be partnered with Dr. Brennan back when she was a student in school."
Wendell looked at Daisy over the top of his roast beef sandwich as though she were completely insane for sounding like the idea appealed to her. "Uh, terrifying and humiliating is what it would have been like. There's no way I would've wanted to partner with Dr. B. No sirree. I bet she was an absolute perfectionist with no tolerance for slip-ups."
"But she's sooo smart and she's always encouraging us to contribute our own thoughts and opinions, regardless of whether they're accurate."
"Yeah." Wendell nodded his head in acknowledgement. "But that's because she sees herself as our superior with respect to osteology and she doesn't expect us to be able to perform at the same level she does. In school though? As a peer? I dunno. I think she would've been pretty hard to work with. Kinda like how she eviscerated that Canadian dude that was in to feet not that long ago."
Fisher, who'd been quiet up to this point, jumped in with his own two cents. "If I had been assigned a project partner that was as brilliant and accomplished as Dr. Brennan was even as a student, I imagine I would've felt like even more of an abject failure than I often already do. I probably would've ended up slitting my wrists since being held in contrast to such prodigiousness would only highlight my own lack of accomplishments."
"Hmm. Maybe," Daisy conceded, "but I still think it would've been fun. She was so amazing to be around when we were in the Maluku's. Certainly a lot better than Billy Mitchem. Oh, and speaking of Dr. Brennan, have either of you two noticed anything different about her lately?"
Fisher cocked his head at her questioningly while Wendell asked "What do you mean?"
Daisy leaned forward excitedly. "I'm fairly convinced she's sexually involved with someone." She saw the eyebrows on both faces opposite her shoot up. "I'm serious. One afternoon last week, when we were working together at the lab, I was standing right next to her in one of the bone examination rooms and I had to lean pretty close to her to look at a mark she pointed out to me on the tibia we were examining. I swear, she smelled like sex."
"She probably slept on her couch after working all night like she does sometimes and just smelled a little stale," Wendell offered as a more probable explanation.
"No. Uh uh. I'm not buying it. I spent seven months in the jungle with that woman and believe me, I know what she smells like when she's sweaty or a little stale. Nope. My olfactory senses are quite proficient. I know what sex smells like and she smelled like sex. If she were anyone else, I would've assumed they'd just come back from a quickie somewhere illicit at lunchtime but . . . c'mon, we're talking about Dr. Brennan here. Besides, she's always with Agent Booth for lunch these days."
"Huh."
"What's that supposed to mean, Fisher?"
"Well, I went in to her office to talk to her earlier this week and you know how she keeps a little tablet of 3x3 paper on her desk for jotting down quick notes or phone messages or the like?"
Both Daisy and Wendell nodded their heads, knowing exactly what Fisher was referring to. "Yeah. So? What about it?" Wendell asked.
"The top piece had been doodled on and was covered in a bunch hearts, all different sizes and each decorated a little differently. However, each one had a capital 'B' in the middle.
Fisher thought back to that afternoon. He had sought out Dr. Brennan in her office with a question he had about an anomaly he had noticed on one of the x-rays he was examining when he had glanced down and seen the frivolously decorated little piece of paper. It seemed so out of place in the immaculate, professional environment that Fisher was momentarily distracted and lost track of his train of thought, leaving his question to Dr. Brennan hanging, incomplete.
Dr. Brennan caught him staring at the doodles slack jawed and she'd smiled sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders unapologetically as a rosy hue covered her cheeks and simply said "I know. It's incredibly silly isn't it?" But her eyes had sparkled with happiness and she'd looked down at that same scrap of paper like it was a precious treasure, reaching out and touching it gently with just the tip of her finger . . . chewing on her bottom lip while her gaze drifted off unfocused for a moment. Just for a moment though. Then she'd snapped back and been all business asking him about what had brought him to her office.
Fisher continued. "I just assumed the 'B' was for Brennan, but maybe there's a Bob or a Bart. Could be a Bradley or a Bruce . . . even a Betty? How hot would that be?" The thought of a little girl-on-girl action always somewhere in the top five on his mental list of things which could bring a smile to his face.
"Oh . . . My . . . God." Daisy's eyes just about popped out of her head and she bounced up and down in her seat, bubbling over with excitement. "I bet the 'B' is for Agent Booth! That has to be it, don't you think? They seem like they're together again all the time now so I can't imagine when either one of them would have the opportunity to engage in physical relations with anyone else. What do you think? Oh, this is so amazing. Do you think they really finally did it?" She couldn't contain the small squeal of delight that escaped at the thought of her idol finally finding true love.
"Well, that would explain a few things about Agent Booth," Wendell chimed in, nodding his head. "He's definitely sleeping with someone based on the marks I saw on his body in the locker room after hockey practice on Monday night."
* FLASHBACK *
After almost two hours of a brutal practice where the team captain had driven the players to their limits, he finally called it quits and told everyone to hit the showers. Wendell and another teammate stayed behind on the ice to put away the hockey goal nets, make a quick pass over the ice in the Zamboni, and then shut down the rink's overhead lights before catching up to the others.
By the time Wendell entered the locker room, most of the guys were finishing up their showers and heading back towards the main locker areas to change into their street clothes. He could hear several of his teammates hollering back and forth, taunting some poor bastard on the team in good natured fun, accompanied by lots of laughter.
PAUL: "Do you call her kitten too? Does she purrrrr for you? Mmreooww."
DAVE: "You're kidding right? With scratches like that, he'd have to call her Tiger. I bet she roars instead of purrs."
PAUL: "Ha. Tiger. You're probably right about that Dave. Just look at those bite marks too. Impressive, Booth. Veeery impressive."
BOOTH: "Fuck-off, asshole. You're just jealous."
MIKE: "Hell yeah we're jealous. Tell me - does she have a sister you can hook me up with? If not, I want her phone number when you're done with her."
BOOTH: "Not gonna happen Mikey-boy. Not gonna happen. Not in this lifetime anyway."
PAUL: "Is she marked up as good as you there, stud?"
BOOTH: "Bite me, man. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."
DAVE: "Maybe not, but I'd put my money on the odds that she's got a few marks of her own too. Our boy Booth here seems like the kind of guy who marks his territory."
MIKE: "As long as he resists the urge to pee on her furniture . . . "
Wendell rounded the corner just in time to see Booth cuff Mike playfully on the back of his head and immediately understood what all the harassment was about. Booth stood in front of his open locker wearing nothing but a towel knotted low around his hips. On each side of his spine were a couple of almost perfectly symmetrical scratches ending with little crescent shaped divots towards the small of his back. Fingernail marks. No doubt about it. One, maybe two days old from the looks of them. It didn't take a whole lot of creative imagination to figure out how Booth got those – just a dirty mind. Who he got them from was the only mystery.
Booth was smiling as he organized his gear in his locker, letting his skin cool a little more from the work-out and the hot shower before bothering to put his clothes on. This kind of ribbing was just standard guy locker-room trash talk. Wendell figured Booth had to have known the guys would poke fun at him even before he started to take off his clothes and it didn't seem to be bothering him in the least. At least, not until Wendell showed up.
DAVE: "Hey Bray. There you are. You're part of Booth's crime solving menagerie. Any idea who the new sweetheart with claws and fangs is? Booth's being closed mouthed."
MIKE: "He's the only one though. She obviously wasn't."
The guys had all sniggered and whooped at that. All but Agent Booth, whose good humor seemed to disappear at the mention of Wendell's name. Booth spun around and gave Wendell a direct, no-nonsense, hard look, pinning him in place with the intensity of his focus.
BOOTH: "Not a word, Wendell. Not a single fucking word if you know what's good for you."
Caught off-guard by Booth's sudden aggression, Wendell held his hands up in surrender, trying to act cool and not stare at the smattering of love bites visible on Booth's chest now that he'd turned to face Wendell. Wendell made an effort to keep his eyes focused on Booth's face until he was close enough to his own locker that he could turn and face that instead, but he couldn't help noticing at least three distinct hickeys on Booth's torso. Could've been more. He really, really attempted not to notice.
WENDELL: "Hey man. I don't know anything about anything."
BOOTH: "Good answer, Wendell. Good answer."
Wendell was a little hurt and confused as to why Agent Booth had snapped at him when he'd been laughing along with the razzing from his teammates just seconds before. He stripped out of his practice gear and gathered his shower supplies trying to make a hasty escape, but he wasn't quick enough to miss Booth dropping his towel and exposing yet another hickey just above his left ass cheek.
* END FLASHBACK *
"Booth had marks? You mean like hickeys?" Daisy practically squealed, "And you didn't tell us about it?"
"Hey. Not my place, okay? Booth's a big boy and entitled to his privacy." Wendell's lips twisted up in a little smirk. "Besides, he's an ex-Army Ranger, decorated sniper, and agent for the FBI. I sure as hell don't want to get on his bad side by spreading gossip about him."
"I dunno. It's kind of like when you first learned that your parents have sex," Fisher concluded, shaking his head gently from side to side. "I can't decide whether to be really happy for them or just freaked out about the whole thing."
Daisy looked at the two guys she was sharing her lunch with. "Well, we'll all have to pay closer attention now and try to find out if we're right. Tomorrow's pay day. Do either of you want to ride with me to the Jeffersonian after our ANTH-542 class in the afternoon to pick up our paychecks and see if we can gather any evidence to verify our suspicions? I bet if Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth are finally twisting the sheets, Angela will know something about it."
The two guys looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "Sure. Why not?"
FRIDAY, EARLY MORNING
It was the smell of coffee that finally penetrated through the veil of slumber and brought Seeley Booth to consciousness. Not just any coffee either, but Bones coffee. Freshly ground from good quality imported beans. None of that freeze-dried instant crap he has to drink at work every day. Bones coffee was in a class all on its own and Booth was getting as addicted to it as he was to the lady who supplied it.
Booth stretched out his arm and felt nothing but cool sheets beneath his hands where his partner's warm, curvy body should've been. Preferably still naked.
Ah, well. He'd always known Bones didn't sleep as many hours as the rest of the mere mortals in the world, but he'd never fully appreciated what that meant until they started spending their nights together. Since they usually fell into bed together at the end of the day, Bones woke before him most mornings. Sometimes, like this morning, she'd get up and putter in another room but more often than not, she'd stay in the bed beside him and read or work on her laptop. Sometimes she'd simply lay beside him and study him while he slept. His personal favorites, however, were the mornings she woke him early, her dexterous hands or her luscious mouth calling him forth from his sleep in the most delightful ways.
He cracked one eye enough to check the time on the bedside clock and saw it was not yet 6:30.
Good. No need to rush.
Booth rolled over on to his back and folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the feel of Brennan's luxury bed sheets against his skin. 100% pure Egyptian cotton in a sateen weave she'd told him. Egyptian cotton even though the sheets themselves were imported from Italy. Whatever. He hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to that particular lecture, but he still loved the decadent feel of the expensive material sliding over their bodies.
Tomorrow was the weekend and it was Booth's goal to continue teaching Bones the merits of starting each day on the weekend with lazy mornings in bed. He smiled in wicked anticipation as he thought about his plan to get her to sleep in tomorrow, feeling his body start to hum with arousal. See, Booth had a theory. Maybe hypothesis would be a better word for it as in his own way, he was running experiments and gathering data to confirm it. He wouldn't tell Bones about it though. It was his secret, at least for now.
His hypothesis went like this: When they first got together, Bones had told him she usually only needs about five hours of sleep each night. After that, her brain starts churning again and invariably wakes her up. But, since they'd become lovers, Booth had noticed there seemed to be a correlation between how long she slept in the morning and the number of orgasms he'd given her the night before. He needed more data to get the formula just right. But, based on the last few weeks together, he'd formulated a theory that the intense, body-clenching, nail-scratching, name-hollering, spots-dancing-before-your-eyes type orgasms were good for about one extra hour of sleep while the softer, muscles-fluttering, brain-stalling, moan or gasp type orgasms were only good for about another half-hour of sleep.
So far, Bones had slept at least six hours every night since they'd been together. Often longer.
Feeling cocky, Booth proudly recalled that last weekend, she'd slept a record nine hours in one night. She'd been astounded the next morning, commenting on the novelty of it several times. Nine. Hours. Oh yeah. He'd been really good. Either that or really good at being really bad. One of the two.
He let one of his hands slip beneath the sheets so he could stroke himself while he recalled that night, absentmindedly alternating between massaging his balls and rubbing or tugging along the shaft of his cock. She'd shared with him some of her favorite fantasies. Fantasies of them. Together.
She'd surprised him too. The variety. The detail. How far back in time they spanned. But mostly, the softly spoken words she'd woven around him had kept him hard as steel long enough to deliver her to bliss over and over again. Yowza! They'd been pretty wild that night, he thought with satisfaction, touching one of the marks she'd left on his pectorals which was barely visible any longer.
Bones didn't know it, but this weekend, he was going to share some of his favorite fantasies with her. He couldn't wait to see her eyes turn molten or to hear that little hitch in her breath that usually followed any comments he made about how sexy he thought she was, how much she turned him on. He rolled his thumb over his glans and felt the moisture pearled there at the tip as he thought about where to start his story-telling. He had so many fantasies to pull from and a host of images flashed through his mind like a silent slideshow in a porno peeping booth.
He laid there enjoying his own touch combined with what his imagination conjured up for several minutes before his sixth sense suddenly kicked in and Booth realized he was no longer alone. Opening his eyes, he saw Bones lounging in the doorway, watching him touching himself, and he startled like a guilty adolescent, immediately pulling his hand away from his privates. Putting both hands on the mattress by his hips, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Bones. I was . . . ah, just . . . ah"
"I know exactly what you were just . . . ah" she said, giving him a knowing, teasing smile. "Feeling neglected were we?" She could see the deep red flush that burned across his cheeks and the stiffness that overcame his muscles and realized that he was incredibly embarrassed. That wasn't the effect she was after and, in her own way, she tried to let him know that she didn't mind what he'd been doing. "You don't need to stop because of me," she encouraged, her voice falling into that low sultry tone that drove him wild.
Booth's eyes snapped to her in astonishment. "What? No way . . . I can't . . . not with you . . . in the same room?" He shook his head vigorously. "Just . . . no."
"Why not? I'd like to watch."
"Booones." The look of horror on Booth's face was priceless and Brennan found herself unable to hold back her smile or a chuckle.
"Really, Booth. It's perfectly natural to masturbate and incredibly sexy to watch. Haven't you ever masturbated in front of a lover before?"
"No! God no."
Brennan studied him for a moment while Booth averted his eyes and tried not to squirm. Looking at her standing in the doorway in that short little silky wrap-around thing she used as an excuse for a robe which did nothing to hide her long, slender legs or her hard, pebbled nipples was not helping his erection settle down.
"I told you last week about some of the fantasies I've had about us before. Do you recall that?"
Was she freaking kidding him? He'd thought of little else? "Yeah, of course."
"What do you think I was doing when I was having those fantasies, Booth?"
Booth swallowed. His eyes flicked to her hands, then to the knot on her robe, and lower, to the V of her thighs.
"That's right," she stated softly. Seductively. "I masturbated. I'd touch myself and bring myself to orgasm while I thought about you, Booth. Your hands, your mouth, or your cock." She watched his eyes follow her right hand as she slid it down over her abdomen then a little lower, teasing the hem with her fingers and measuring his arousal by the rise and fall of his chest with his breaths. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Surely it's what you assumed when I told you that I'd had sexual fantasies, isn't it?"
Booth slowly nodded his head in confirmation, the ability for speech seeming to have vanished momentarily as he watched her leave her post in the doorway and start to approach him in the bed, captivated by the graceful sway and roll of her hips as she walked.
"And since last weekend? Since you learned about my fantasies? Have you thought at all about me pleasuring myself while I'm thinking of you? Pictured it in your mind?"
His whispered "well, yeah" was barely audible, but that didn't matter. Standing right beside the bed now, she could read the truth just as easily in the way his eyes were dilated and by how he licked his lips hungrily as he gazed at her.
Brennan lifted one knee onto the bed, causing the bottom portion of her robe to fall open enough to expose the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs, confirming for Booth that she didn't have anything on underneath her robe. She rested one hand high on her inner thigh, right beside her mons. Not touching her pubic area, but alluding to how easily she could.
"Do you find it arousing to think of me touching myself while I'm thinking about you Booth?"
"God yes, Bones," he answered truthfully. "It makes me hard as nails. Right now, I think I could cum without even touching myself."
"Seeing you touching yourself and knowing your thinking about me is just as much of a turn on for me." She shifted slightly, spreading her legs a bit more. "Touch me now, Booth. See how wet I am just from watching you fondling yourself."
Mesmerized by her voice, Booth lifted a hand and slowly slid one finger deep into her folds, measuring her response. Slick moisture coated his finger as she moaned and shuddered beneath his touch.
"Understand now?"
Again, Booth nodded while adding a second finger to his explorations. Her soft mewl and the cream on his fingers eliminating any remaining doubts he may have had about just how watching him had affected her.
Brennan untied the knot in her robe and let it fall to the floor behind her as she lifted the sheets and crawled fully onto the bed, straddling Booth's lap and sliding him into her heated channel without hesitation.
"Someday soon . . ." she whispered in that low husky voice, ". . . when you're ready, I want to watch you masturbate for me and, if you want, I'll return the favor for you."
Booth moaned at the mental image she created as she started to move over him. "Not today though?"
"No. Not today. At the moment I want to feel you inside me, not me."
When they were done and Brennan lay sprawled across Booth's chest, their skin glued together by their cooling perspiration, she placed a gentle kiss to his sternum. "By the way, I came in here to wish you happy anniversary." Booth looked down at her and she smiled up at him. "It was one month ago today that I woke up in your bed for the first time."
"It's the first month of many, many more to come Bones."
"I certainly hope so."
"You'll see. You and me, we're perfect together. This is just the beginning for us."
FRIDAY, AFTERNOON
Daisy, Wendell, and Fisher all came in to the lab together and went to collect their paychecks from Dr. Saroyan. Afterwards, they had planned to stick around a bit, talk to some other folks, and see if they could gather any more gossip or news that would confirm whether Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth truly had finally become more than just partners. They split up – Daisy going one way and the boys going another.
Wendell and Fisher decided to start with Dr. Jack Hodgins, poking their heads into his ookie-room under the guise of just saying a friendly hello. They found Hodgins peering into his microscope, his usual grin stretched across his face making him look like a kid at Christmas time. Fisher was always a little baffled by how someone could so consistently seem to find such joy in the mundane routine of everyday life.
"Hey, Jack. How's it going?" Wendell called out in greeting.
Looking up from his workbench, Jack was surprised to see the two interns standing in his doorway. Since they were still dressed in their street clothes, they didn't appear to be there for work. "Hey Wendell. Fisher. What brings you two to the lab today?"
"Payday," came Fisher's straightforward and matter-of-fact response.
"Right." Jack just nodded his head, knowing intellectually that several of the interns lived paycheck to paycheck, but never having been in a position himself where he had to worry or wonder about money. He's always had way more of that particular commodity than he knew what to do with.
Wendell, ever mindful of their mission, tried to nonchalantly see if he could lead Hodgins into sharing any gossip. "So, man. We haven't been out for a beer together in a while. Not since well before the little guy was born at least. How've things been going? How's Angela doing?"
At the thought of his newborn son, Michael-Vincent, and his wife, Hodgins just seemed to glow from the inside-out with happiness. "They're amazing," he answered, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and flipping to the latest picture he'd taken just that morning of a tiny naked-except-for-his-diaper Michael-Vincent and Angela asleep on the couch together. "Here. Take a look. He eats, he sleeps, he cries, and he poops. To be honest, Angela's not doing a whole lot different right now herself, but we're starting to get into a rhythm. Sorta."
Looking at the photo of mother and child snuggled together, Wendell couldn't help but remember the pregnancy scare he and Angela had when they'd been dating. The thought briefly crossed his mind that if things had turned out a little differently back then, he might have been the one passing around his phone with a picture of Angela cuddled with an infant, calling them his. He wasn't jealous of Jack and he didn't begrudge them their happiness, but Wendell came from a background where family pulled together for one another and looking at the picture made him realize that it was something he wanted to find for himself too, some day. "That's awesome, Hodgins. They look great."
Handing the phone back to Jack, Wendell asked "So, anything else interesting going on? Anything new or exciting happening here at the lab?"
"Oh, yeah." Jack's eye's started to sparkle and he almost vibrated with excitement. "C'mere and I'll share something with you that's kinda my little secret . . ." he spoke softly, conspiratorially, as he glanced out the door as though checking to make sure the coast was clear. As soon as Wendell and Fisher were close enough, a giddy Hodgins pointed down to what he'd been studying when they walked in. ". . . Mycena chlorophos. Just got the spores to cultivate these this morning and I'm trying to keep them low profile around Cam. These little guys actually glow in the dark quite vibrantly when their cap first forms and opens. While rare, they're still found in a handful of countries, just not domestically. These particular babies came from Sri Lanka."
For the next fifteen-minutes or so, Wendell and Fisher were lectured on everything they ever wanted to know and then some about little bright green glowing mushrooms. But, they didn't learn anything new about the two leaders of their crime fighting unit and their possible romantic status.
Meanwhile . . . elsewhere in the lab . . .
Daisy had had brief conversations with a couple of the different lab technicians that she was on a friendly basis with and had also come away no more enlightened than the boys. Now, she was trying to figure out the best way to approach Dr. Brennan herself. Watching her idol standing up on the examination platform in the center of the main room from the shadows, Daisy likened herself to a female lion, hiding in the tall grasses of the Serengeti and stalking her prey. I'm just going to go talk to her and see what happens. A subtle inquisition masquerading as civil dialogue between two mature and rational adult women. With a fortifying deep breath, she stepped forward, swiping her access badge, and casually wandering up on to the platform.
Brennan noticed Daisy stepping up onto the platform from the corner of her eye, but paid no attention to the intern. She was focused on the remains laid out on the table in front of her. The body had just been delivered a couple hours earlier and the bones had not yet been cleaned of clothing or flesh. Brennan was studying the apparent areas of damage to the flesh in combination with the victim's x-rays to get a sense as to which wounds were likely man-made versus those more likely attributable to animal predation or the general process of decomposition.
Daisy slowly walked around the platform, hands linked together loosely behind her back as though she hadn't a care in the world. "Good afternoon, Dr. Brennan," she offered in a calm and formal manner with a regal bow of her head.
Brennan lifted just her eyes, shifting them from the remains before her to the intern coming to a stop across the table from her, then back to the remains. "Good afternoon, Ms. Wick," she responded, thinking Daisy's behavior was rather odd, even for Daisy.
"It appears you have a new case you are working on."
"Yes. That is correct."
Daisy leaned slightly over the table and looked at the victim while she tried to think of something witty to say to engage Dr. Brennan in small talk. "Hm. Female. Caucasian."
Brennan stopped what she was doing and stood up straight to look at Daisy, wondering why the girl would be stating something that everyone who had ever worked with her would've known she would have figured out for herself within the first minute of an examination. Brennan's first inclination was to order Daisy to simply go away, but she was making a conscious effort to be nicer to the interns when they initiate small talk ever since she snapped at Mr. Nigel-Murray for not focusing a month earlier only to have him die beneath her hands shortly thereafter. "Is there something I can do for you Ms. Wick?"
"No. No." Daisy shook her head, coolly stepping back from the table. However, forcing herself to remain calm and mature when she was internally bursting with curiosity was simply too much for Daisy and in the blink of an eye, she broke, her body language switching from remote and disinterested to something more like the excited antics of an 8-week old puppy while words suddenly spewed forth from her mouth in an animated torrent. "Yes. Yes. I can't help it. I know it's none of my business, but it's making me crazy. Dr. Brennan, I have to know. Are you and Agent Booth finally having sexual relations? Not individually, of course, because I know you've both had sex before with other people, but I mean with each other? Together. In the same bed. Or couch. Or . . . wherever."
Before Brennan could formulate a reply, she heard her name being hollered by her partner, distracting her.
"Bones? You up there?"
Booth swiped his card and bounded up the steps, stopping right in front of her with one arm behind his back.
"Booth. What are you doing here? I just started my examination and don't have anything substantive to tell you yet . . ."
"That's not why I'm here," he interrupted with a sweet, intimate smile, looking at her like she was the only thing in the room. Bringing his hand out from behind his back, he offered her a bouquet of a dozen hand-made origami flowers. Peach and cherry blossoms in a variety of sizes and colors all attached to long green straws and tied together at the base with a colorful ribbon. "You reminded me this morning that it's our first anniversary. First anniversaries are traditionally celebrated with an exchange of paper gifts so, I made you some paper flowers." Booth reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ears. "I didn't want you to think today wasn't important to me too. Besides, you deserve to get flowers sometimes, Bones."
Brennan automatically stripped the latex gloves off her hands and tossed them in a nearby waste receptacle before tentatively reaching out a hand to accept the flowers, admiring the intricately folded designs and feeling a little overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his gesture. "These must've taken a lot of effort. Did you make all of these yourself?"
"Yeah. I know they're not that fancy. It's been a while, but fiddling around with origami was something I used to do when I was training as a sniper. Requires patience and calm control of your hands. And, it was a peaceful, relaxing way to pass the time." She didn't need to know about the other dozen or so attempts that had ended up in his trash can back at FBI headquarters as he'd struggled to recall the complicated paper folding techniques.
Brennan could see the uncertainty in Booth's eyes as he watched her closely to see if she really liked his simple gift. She knew he felt extremely insecure about giving her gifts due to their financial disparity. Always had. He didn't seem to realize though that the gifts he'd given her over the years – a plastic pig, a toy smurf, a Christmas tree outside a jailhouse, and now, these flowers – meant so much more to her than anything expensive or elaborate that he could purchase. These simple gifts were all tokens of love, which is all Brennan really wanted or needed from him.
With her free hand she grabbed the knot in his tie and pulled him towards her as she leaned forward up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft. And sweet. It expressed love and appreciation more than carnal desire. Pulling back only after enough time passed to be certain he got her message, Brennan let her hand slip from the top of his tie down to where she could pat him open handed over his heart. "They're perfect, Booth. Absolutely perfect. Thank you. I have an antique Scandinavian artifact in my office that I believe I can use as a vase. Let me go put these there and I'll be right back."
As she turned to leave the platform, she saw Wendell and Fisher standing at the bottom, mouths hanging ajar and she recalled Daisy's question from right before Booth showed up. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Daisy standing there, vibrating and literally biting her knuckles to keep herself from squealing with excitement over witnessing Brennan's moment with Booth.
"Oh, and to answer your question Ms. Wick . . . Yes. Agent Booth and I are having sexual relations. Together. In the same bed. Or couch. Or . . . wherever."
A/N: Well, I think that's one of the longer single chapters I've ever written. Enjoy it?
