Title: Just Friends?

Summery"You don't have to explain anything… we're friends."

DisclaimerDon't own them, dammit! What a season finale!

Author's Notes: Okay, I totally deserve any rotten vegetables angrily flung my way. I can't pardon myself for such an absence. In my defense, between major projects, tests, speeches, exam assignments, computer problems, Internet issues, a fruitless job search, and the great plot bunny escape of '06, I haven't gotten in much time for writing. And for that I apologize! Sorry, sorry, sorry! You guys have been great! Keep reading and reviewing, and I'll try to whip my butt into writing gear. :D

----------------------------------------------

Hodgins plopped down on a vacant stool and surveyed the crowd. His eyes fell on the woman from the hall. He almost didn't recognize her because she had changed into skinny boots, well fitting jeans, and a black Pink Floyd The Wall t-shirt. He glanced over himself, brown boots, loose dark jeans, a white button-down shirt with blue stripes running through it, and a blue muscle shirt underneath. He thought he looked good. He knew she looked damn good. Running a hand through his curly mop of hair, he shifted a stool closer.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Vivian felt like banging her head off a wall. Preferably a thick one. After she had walked in on Zack and the freaky purple haired chick, she had gotten hit on not once, not twice, but three times. The creep in the hallway, Nelson the security guard, who had found her wandering the halls, trying to escape, and a dirty old man outside of the community center as she went in to her interview. Her interview had gone off-kilter. The actual social worker that was supposed to be meeting her hadn't shown up, and her interview had consisted of two old biddies staring at her through their enlarged glasses lenses. They hadn't a clue what they were asking her about, getting her to recite her credentials multiple times. One of them had had to adjust her hearing aid, causing a shrill squeal to emit from the device. The other, swathed in a pilly sweater that sported an appliquéd cat design which was peeling away, reminded Vivian of the crazy cat lady that used to live in the apartment down the hall from her in New York. A one-bedroom apartment, eight cats, one litter box.

Sighing heavily, she looked up to see that the very creep from the corridor was stool hopping his way over. Vivian groaned inwardly, as the creep (he was kind of cute) landed with two stools separating them.

"Let's hear it," She instructed, thinking to get it over with.

"Hear what?" He seemed confused. Well, that wasn't new, she thought.

"I know you've got another one of your hokey lines just burning to get out, so go ahead," Vivian cupped her hand around her chin, elbow resting on the counter. She twirled her glass, watching the liquid inside it swirl and froth.

"Oh, no," He chuckled warmly, "No hokey lines," He held up two fingers in a peace sign, "Scout's honor."

Lifting the eyebrows skyward, she asked, "Why do I get the feeling you were never a scout?"

"I dunno," He shrugged comically, "Maybe you're physic or somethin'."

Vivian couldn't help herself, she laughed, "What's your name Curly?"

"Jack," He paused, and then added as if an after thought, "Hodgins."

"Vivian," She mimicked, "Booth."

Hodgins looked liked a hooked fish, with mouth agape, "You're the sister."

------------------------------------------------------

Nervously, Zack drummed his fingers on the counter top. What should he do? What should he do? Making sure to keep his fingers away from the fragile pelvic bone, he pondered.

The evening before seemed almost like something he had conjured up. Girls like Vivian weren't that nice to guys like him. Back when he had been in school, the so-called popular crowd only spoke to him when they needed help with their homework, or assistance washing out a toilet. It was some kind of rule. And in the world Zack lived in, all he knew were rules. It was how a society was run, how people interacted each other. Anthropologically speaking, no society, no culture could survive and evolve without some kind of order, some kind of rules.

Diana. In all truth, the kiss ambush didn't follow the rules either. Diana was cute, sure, in a rebellious sort of way. He liked that she wasn't afraid to express herself. In a room full of her peers and colleagues, the intellectual types from the museum, she would always stand out. And it didn't bother her. Which was more than he could say for himself. He was constantly trying to fit, trying to be accepted, to be part of something outside the lab. It was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

555-2679. From his carefully catalogued photographic memory it came. Should he use it? Or just forget about it, and what significance a female exchanging her phone number with a male had? He couldn't just sit around and wait for something to come to him, could he? No, he had to go get it. That was another rule; things aren't just handed to you. You have to work, try, for them.

Turning the returned cell phone over in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the cool plastic, he decided. Taking a deep breath, and completely (or so he'd like to think) for anything that came, he began to dial.

-------------------------------------------

"I'm guessing you know Seeley," She deadpanned.

Hodgins took a minute to gather himself. He had seen the sister for sure now, and she was smokin', "Yeah, I know Booth."

Vivian glossed over her brother's substitution of his last name for his first. He had been doing that since junior high, "What do you do at the lab?" A sly grin budded, "Besides proposition lost and vulnerable patrons in the corridor?"

Hodgins had the grace to laugh at himself, "I'm an entomologist. Bugs, slime, and plants, that's my stuff."

"And dog poop," The bud had blossomed into a full-blown smile.

"You've heard of me," He chuckled.

She chuckled along with him, "Yeah, I've heard stories about all of you. Although, that still didn't prepare me for meeting any of you," She quickly swallowed her mouthful of her drink, "Like take Angela," She began to relate to him her first encounter with Angela Montenegro.

------------------------------------

Angela tapped another set of keys. She had been putting off these pictures long enough. If she didn't finish them soon, the new exhibit's opening would have to be postponed. And Goodman would not be happy about that. Glancing at the clock that hung over the door, she saw it was getting late. She raked her hair back and began typing again. She had been working at them for the past hour, but she hadn't seemed to be putting a dent in them.

She couldn't believe she was at the lab this late. She couldn't believe she was at the lab this late, alone. She was doing the exact thing she had always chastised Bren about. Spending hours of after hours' time on something that could be finished the next day, during business hours. Why was it that Bren was at home, doing unmentionable things with her gorgeous FBI agent husband, and Angela, the lab's resident 'party girl' was holed up in her office, working until all hours of the night? Maybe she should get downright drunk and marry a hot agent of her own.

"Ms. Montenegro, burning the midnight oil I see," Dr. Goodman stepped into the shadowed room, his face illuminated by a low burning floor lamp in the corner, while hers had taken a blue-white tinge from her computer screen.

"Yes," Angela tried to cover a yawn, "Just finishing up some images for the Ice Age exhibit."

Dr. Goodman took in her tired eyes and barely suppressed yawns, "Go home Ms. Montenegro, get some sleep. We nearly have to pry Dr. Brennan out of here with a crowbar, must you do the same?"

Angela smiled, clicking the mouse a few times to save her work, "What about you? How come you're not at home?"

Sighing, Dr. Goodman lowered himself to the sofa, the fabric crinkling beneath him, "My wife's parents are visiting from Arkansas," He grumbled, arranging the lapels of his suit coat.

Angela held up a hand, palm forward, "No need to explain. I understand," Gathering up her things, she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

Dr. Goodman pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression showed him imagining all sorts of in-law horrors.

Finally grasping metal, Angela pulled her keys from her purse, "See you tomorrow," She called on her way out, a grin on her face and in her voice.

"Tomorrow," He replied in a gravelly voice.

---------------------------------

"She asked you if you thought Booth was hot?" Hodgins hooted, imagining Angela's embarrassment on discovering to whom her question was directed.

"Well, I think he's handsome, sure. But hot? It's not in me to say," Vivian laughed along with him. Interrupting her next sentence, her cell rang, "Sorry," Rummaging quickly through her purse, she grabbed the phone and thumbed the 'talk' button, without bothering to check the caller id, "Hello?"

"Hi, um, yeah, Viv?" The voice on the line was familiar, in a nervous sort of way. But she couldn't quite put her finger on who, "It's me, well, me, I mean, I am. It's Zack."

"Zack?" She hadn't expected to hear from him. Shouldn't he still be tongue wrestling with the purple haired woman? Uneasily, she began to twirl the ends of her hair around her fingers, "How did you get my number?"

Hodgins watched Vivian carefully. Zack? Was it his little nerd buddy Zack? Why would Zack be calling Viv? And why was Vivian nervous? How exactly had their little date gone anyway?

"I have a photographic memory," Zack said as if it explained everything.

"Uh-huh," Vivian replied in a tone that said it didn't. She skillfully avoided Hodgins' look, dipping her head, inspecting her knees.

"I saw the sticky note when you returned my phone," Zack explained, and then began babbling about how quickly something could be inserted into his long-term memory.

She had to interrupt his babbling, "Zack? Zack, you're rambling!"

Zack breathed deep, trying to build up his courage, though it was sorely lacking. He wanted to tell Viv that there was nothing to the kiss in his room; in fact, it had been more of an attack. But rejection was never something that he took well, what if she didn't care? What if she brushed him off, or yelled and told him not to call again? He never got the girls, "I wanted to tell you, about back at the museum, it wasn't-"

She cut him off, "Zack, you don't have to explain anything."

"I don't?" That was something he hadn't expected. He had expected a very uncomfortable clarification, then maybe (if he was very lucky) a conversation. He didn't care what about; he just wanted to talk to her.

"No, you don't," Vivian couldn't believe she was saying this. A few hours ago, hadn't she wanted to turn the purple haired girl into a human cannonball? What had changed now? She glanced at Hodgins, who smiled at her. He made her laugh, had made her totally forget the drama of her flopped interview and the Zack/Purple sighting, "We're friends Zack, there's nothing for you to explain. Although, I would've liked a sign or something on the door, so I didn't have to see her check your tonsils with her tongue."

There, she thought. That should let him off the hook, should relieve any misguided guilt he was harboring. The joke should even lighten the seriousness hanging over the situation. Even if it didn't make her feel any better.

He was more confused now, if that were even possible. This was not what he had expected, not at all. This wasn't what he wanted to hear either. But what could he say? "Oh, okay. Friends, yeah."

"Friends," She could swear she heard some kind of disappointment in his voice, or was she hearing only what she wanted to?

"Well, okay then," Zack felt like he had been stomped on, like a tiny cockroach on the sidewalk, "I've gotta go. Bye."

"Bye," Why did she feel like she had just kicked a puppy? Why did she feel like someone had kicked her?

He hung up abruptly, leaving her to listen to the dial tone. She jabbed the 'end' button, and deposited the phone in her purse.

"Bad call?" Hodgins asked curiously, his index finger circling the rim of his glass.

---------------------------------

"What did you say to Jack?" Tempe asked inquisitively. The two were sprawled together on the sofa, Tempe's head in Booth's lap, his fingers brushing absentmindedly through her hair.

"Told him to get his head out of his ass," Booth replied bluntly, "That he hits on everything in a skirt."

"How receptive was he?" She turned over so she was looking up at him. He grinned; clearly the conversation had gone well.

"Hodgins and Angela must have had the same English teacher. He wanted to know if Viv was hot," He couldn't help himself; he snickered, remembering her actions the night before.

She rolled her eyes, swatted playfully at the hand stroking over the bare skin of her hip, "It was a natural assumption that people would use the authentic meaning of a word."

"I thought Angela and I would've taught you something by now," He teased, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. Her tongue flicked against it.

"There's a few things you could teach me," She curled her fingers over his belt, smiling impishly.

-----------------------------------------

"Zack and Diane!" Hodgins had discerned the identity of the freaky purple haired chick with an eyebrow ring and her tongue down Zack's throat, "Shit," He grinned mischievously.

"Glad you're enjoying it," Vivian mumbled, clearly not enjoying having to describe the sighting to him. She couldn't believe how incredibly stupid of her it was to just let so much slip on a first meeting. She had never done that before, and promised herself she wouldn't do it again. Though it seemed the promise came too late, as she seemed to be slipping again. Seeley would rue the day he introduced her to his co-workers.

"No, it's just gonna give me something to hold over Zack's head. It should be all over the lab by tomorrow, but a first hand account," He laughed manically, and rubbed his hands together in a mockery of classic villainy, "Tomorrow's gonna be fun."

Vivian almost felt bad for given Jack fodder to taunt Zack with. Almost.

-------------------------------------

"Seeley? Are you awake?" Tempe propped herself up on her elbow, an ear against the palm of her hand.

"No," He mumbled, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

"You don't talk in your sleep," She pointed out, her logical manner shining through even in his sleepy state.

"What is it Bones?" He flopped around onto his back, peering up at her with hooded eyes.

No hedging, she'd decided. She had thought long and hard about this, had mapped out a logical and rational way to broach the subject. But, as she tried, her entire speech flew from her, forcing her to wing it.

"Where do you see us going?" She blurted out. So much for logical and rational, Tempe thought.

"What?" His eyes popped open, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, where do you see us going from here?" She thought for a moment, "I know that you don't want a divorce, and I don't want a divorce, but still, how do we proceed?"

The use of 'proceed' in a highly emotional discussion almost made him laugh. Only her blatant need for reassurance held it back. Shaking his head to clear it, he asked, "Where did this come from?"

Tempe raked her tongue with her teeth, "I need procedures, I need a set goal and definitions. Otherwise, I get lost," She shook off the creeping feeling of aloneness, she wasn't alone, not anymore, "When things fall apart, I get lost."

Booth shifted himself over so he too was propped up on his elbow, hand against his cheek. The other he reached over to touch Tempe, rubbing soothing circles on her side, "You think we're gonna fall apart?" He could tell she was thinking about the discovery of her parents' secrets, that they had lived after they'd left her. That her father was still alive. It had shaken her to her visceral core. It jarred him somewhat that she was begging for him to soothe her worries. Bones was always very independent, sometimes irritatingly so. She had always been. So when the time came that she let that guard down, showed him her insecurities, he wasn't entirely prepared. He was ready though, to be the person she showed those insecurities to.

"I don't," She was having trouble forming the words, "It's just out of my element when nothing is definite, nothing is for sure," Covering up her emotional outpour, she teased with an awkward smile, "And it's all your fault."

He knew she didn't mean it, and glossed over her jab. He wished that he could pull the words out of the sky to promise her that nothing would ever happen, but he couldn't. Nothing was ever certain, in life or in love, "I can't promise that nothing will ever happen Bones. I want to. But, I can't. What I can promise you is I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."

Their faces were so close now, the tips of their noses touched. She knew he couldn't promise that nothing would ever change, that was inevitable, but it did pacify something inside her to hear that he wasn't going anywhere. People she cared about had the bad habit of disappearing, "I'm not going anywhere either," She vowed, leaning in the last inch to nuzzle her nose against his.

"Where do I see us going from here?" Booth repeated, "I see us working together, chasing the scum of the earth. I see us coming home and being together. I see us fighting just as much, if not more than we do now. I see us playing with our kids, and watching them grow. I see me," He paused, moving his hand up to stroke her cheek, "Loving you with all that I have, until there's nothing of me left."

Tempe had never been one to sigh at the romantic parts of the odd movie she saw or at the snippets of conversations she'd heard, but at his words, she all but melted, "Oh Seeley," The English language failed her right then. She couldn't think of words good enough to match his. Instead came a sigh of, "Oh Seeley, me too."

"Even the kids part?" He teased lightly. If he had read her correctly, over past months, she had had a change of heart about kids. This change of heart and inclination towards it had to do with the attachment she had forged with Parker. Something maternal had come out in Bones, even going so far as to nearly accost a woman whose son accidentally stepped on Parker's hand. She made a point of asking about him, and had been present the last few times he'd Parker for the weekend. She'd even baby-sat when he had been called back to the office. His boy had wrecked havoc, getting in a fight with Zack about which dinosaurs were better, stomping on Hodgins' prized beetle, a terrified look on his face, sweet talking Angela with preschooler babble, and even charming his way around Dr. Goodman.

"I always thought that I didn't want kids because I wouldn't chance putting a child through what I was," Tempe could tell he was reading her like a book. While with others, she'd quickly slam the cover closed, it didn't irk her in the least with him, "But that wasn't it. Or, at least, it wasn't all of it."

"What was it?"

She gazed into his eyes, finding there only care and interest, "It was that I couldn't imagine myself with someone that I would want to take that chance with."

"And you will with me?" Booth practically bit his tongue in anticipation of her response. He wouldn't let himself think that he should have kept his mouth shut, but he did seem to have a unique talent for talking himself into (and out of, as need be) a hole.

"I will with you," Tempe murmured softly. Children hadn't been part of her master plan once upon a time, but after spending time with Parker, and seeing the genuine love and care between father and son, slowly, her mind began to change. Children might not be such an inconvenience; they might be worth the risk. She could see that they were for Booth, and they had begun to be for her.

Booth made a contented sound as he moved his face closer to hers, kissing her soundly. He manipulated her lips with his, before breaking his lips from hers, kissing her closed eyelids, before beginning to work his way down her neck, "How'bout starting on that now?" He muttered, rolling them both so she was on her back and he leaned over her. His lips never left her skin. Her breath sharply sucked through her lungs as his mouth settled at the V of her collarbone, his tongue and lips working their magic.

"Mmmm," Her head lolled back against the pillows, her hands bunched in his hair as his lips continued their downward journey. There was something about his touch, about the mere pass of his hands or lips over her skin that ignited such a thrill through her body. She had never felt like this with anyone else.

He loved the way she responded to him. Loved the way she clutched him. Loved the way she molded her body to his. It had started so discretely, almost without his notice, until it was blaring him in the face, kicking him in the ass and squeezing his heart. He loved her.

---------------------------------------------

Hodgins scrubbed a hand over his face. On departing from the bar, he had looked down at Vivian, the moon and stars mingling with the streetlights had given her a kind of magical appearance. A tiny smile sprouted in her eyes, spreading out over her whole face. On an impulse, he reached out and tucked a wayward lock of hazelnut hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed across her cheek, her skin so smooth and soft. Almost as if in slow motion, he bent, bringing his lips to hers. And she responded, pushing herself up on her tiptoes, keeping her balance by holding tightly to the lapels of his coat. A hand cupping the back of her head, he angled her head, molding his mouth to hers, savoring it the way one would the bouquet of an exquisite wine. She sighed, pushing upward, touching his tongue with hers, moving in and pulling away as she liked. He moaned in the back of his throat, moving his front against hers, her back against the pole of a street lamp. Damn, but she was good at this.

The kiss had ended with him out of breath, and her smiling sultrily. Now, he was standing in his boxers in his kitchen, wondering what the hell had possessed him. He had kissed a woman he had just met. He had kissed Vivian. He had kissed Booth's sister. A wave of alarm washed over him at his last realization. He had kissed Booth's sister.

What the hell was he going to do? What if Booth found out? What if Vivian hadn't been as receptive as he thought? He had only known her for a few hours! She had definitely been receptive to him, had been more than receptive, and had returned the kiss with the same fervor he had given it. But the first couple of what ifs were met with a panicked realization; Booth was going to kill him if he found out.

Funny, he thought, he didn't regret it for a second. He flipped a folded piece of paper between his index and middle fingers, grinning foolishly to himself.

-----------------------------------------

Vivian folded her hands behind her head, tucking them under her pillow. Right now, her bed was at a hotel, soon she'd have to find a place of her own. She couldn't afford to stay much longer.

She sighed, running her tongue over her lips. That hadn't been at all unexpected. In fact, it had been anticipated. Jack was a good kisser. Very good. It wasn't something she normally did, kissing someone she had just met. She seemed to be going against what she normally did and didn't do lately. Talking way too much to one guy, going so far as to give him her phone number. Then, kissing another guy, again giving away her phone number. Both guys worked with Seeley. He was so going to regret introducing her to his colleagues. She only hopped her extremely over-protective older brother didn't decide to use Jack for target practice.

Funny, she didn't regret it for a second.

------------------------------------------

Author's Notes: Okay, I know this took nearly a millennium to post, but the plot bunnies have escaped again. I have to go chase after those crazy rabbits, but any help would be appreciated!

The plot has thickened! Do Hodgins and Viv get together? Or does Zack get the girl? Will the big brother use Hodgins for target practice? What's in store B'n'B? Does Goodman ever go home? Will Angela take over Brennan's place as the overtime queen? What happens to Diana? And Toad?